AN: Cover picture is an image edited by marshmallowcookiwolf
art/Jane-The-Killer-361929210
Anyways, to my readers, thanks for reading so far! these few chapters have kinda been "the quiet before the storm". Stuff will get a little crazy and hectic, but I promise you, these "build-up" chapters are going to be useful for later on. Have a nice day :}
Over the course of a month, I let them experiment. They released me from the table in the small room after a wave of violent, homicidal thoughts crossed my mind. I almost broke free from the room. I kind of resented the Liquid Hate at first; the pumping of weird chemicals into my body was something that did not sit well with me at first. But over time, I realized that the scientists were right: this Liquid Hate made me stronger.
They wanted me to show off my new abilities. They called it "training" but we all knew they wanted me to perform for them. I knew that in order to be set free, I had to please these people, who thought I was under their control simply because they revived me and were guarding me with guns and buff guys and cameras. Honestly, I had better things to do than "train" over and over just so I can be evaluated by people hiding behind a bullet proof glass holding clipboards. Like maybe getting my revenge. I dunno.
"Training" took place in a really big room with stained white walls and concrete floors. It's a low-maintenance kind of makeshift gym with tires and blocks and punching bags scattered throughout the room. There are no windows, of course. The lights overhead flickered whenever I punched something too hard, and whenever I used... my newfound powers.
Along with speed, strength, and an alarmingly fast healing rate, I somehow gained special powers and abilities regarding "mind fucking".
I can create any illusion to trick people into believing something, and I can shape-shift into anyone. This entertained the scientists, most notably Paul.
They put me through all kinds of tests you can imagine. They were seriously counting on me to ride into fame. Poor souls.
One test taught me that the forms of people I take don't affect my strength and abilities. Under close scrutinization with robotic cameras and machines hooked onto my body, I shape shifted into a little 7 year old girl and was instructed to break a 500 lb. cinder block in half by a man through a speaker. I did this flawlessly.
I took many psychological tests. The results were fine, other than the fact that I regarded the lives and wellbeing of others less. With what I've been through, wouldn't anyone?
But I suppose all of these silly tests and training sessions aren't really all going to waste. I'm discovering what I can do, and I can do a lot, it seems.
Recently, I've been planning for a goal: to escape. With the amazing powers I have now, it shouldn't be too hard. I just need to escape this facility with the least amount of ruckus as possible.
Every time I am put to a test, I try my damn hardest to do it perfectly... not to please this stupid facility and their work, but to learn faster and grow stronger so I can find a way to assure my escape.
I've planned escape routes using a map I stole from the front desk after bribing a couple of researchers and a nurse. I study this vigorously and make potential paths with my blood. Black blood that, when dried up, turns purple. How great.
Anyways, as I spend more time in this facility, communicating with scientists, and walking around with guards all around me, I notice that I wasn't the only "experiment" walking around here. There were a few weirdos around like me, some shuffling along in shackles while heavily guarded, others rattling their barred doors and moaning for freedom.
They were trapped, mentally and physically. I felt much more privileged and free just listening to their eerie cries for help floating down the hospital-scented hallways. I should have felt pity or remorse, but... hahaha... I didn't. Why should I? My problems are bigger, if not equal to theirs. I'm working to obtain the very thing they plead for.
Maybe this Liquid Hate is changing my mentality, but I don't care. I knew throughout all my life that the less compassion and attachment I have for someone or something, the better off I will be.
But then again, part of that could have also been that I had witnessed my entire family and some of my friends killed by a certain Grinning Psycho.
As each day passes, I can taste my freedom more and more. It's so close. I pass by exits while being escorted from room to room and sometimes I catch myself staring at them longingly. I've already fully formulated my plan.
I just need to make sure I have just one more special trick up my sleeve.