Third person
A single light lit the almost never ending hallway or at that was what it seemed, never ending. He was pissed but then again he was always pissed. Now he was pissed more than usual. It apparently had to do with Sector Seven, or that cursed place as it was called when spoken about. He had made a break through and now they were allowed to roam freely as they pleased, to be normal.
Bradford knew the moment he stopped at the last door in the hallway he was screwed. People were only sent here when their usefulness had expired, so had his? Fetch her they had told him but what if she didn't want to be fetched? What then? Bradford swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. Maybe she wasn't all that bad; after all he had heard stories of her predecessor. One who was supposed to be as cold as ice and as uncaring as the world, so how bad could she be? Well he would have to knock on the door and find out for himself.
The door had swung open almost immediately giving him no time to run. That however was not the best idea as he remembered his colleague's advice. They can smell your fear and if you run you are inviting them to chase. They are like dogs, because if you are cornered by a dog and you run they will chase and hunt you down and so will they. So he stood erect and tall his fear showing pouring off of him in waves and dripping down his face in beads of perspiration.
"The boss w-w-wants t-t-to t-t-talk to y-y-you," Bradford stuttered. "I-I-I am h-h-here t-t-to e-e-escort you."
"Your fear, it smells," she whispered leaning in and licking the horrified Bradford's neck. "Delicious."
Her dark blood red hair hung loosely around her gaunt face. Stepping out of the room she stood in front of Bradford her right arm metallic and red just like her hair. She lifted her hand to her mouth and in it she held a cigarette, taking two long puffs she tossed her head to a side, before strolling down the corridor at an aimless pace. The cloth that hung on her skeletal body dragged after her like a gown, her feet hardly making any noise on the glass floor.
"You know, maybe I should ask Creator if I can keep you," she mused. "As a pet."
The hall turned a midnight black, only for half a second before the noise of the alarm went off bouncing of the very surface and vibrating through the floor. She sighed and dropped the cigarette and standing on it. The first waved of intruders came and they stopped pointing the guns at her.
"Do you fuckers know who I am?" she asked. "I am the judge, the jury and the executioner. I am the perfected Experiment Designation: Bloody Scarlet."
Bradford stared at the woman in horror, as he watched as she giggled madly and almost as if she were drunk. He complemented fleeing but Scarlet grabbed him before he could flee. She positioned him as though they were doing the waltz and leaned in and whispered into his ear, "Watch me pet. Don't you dare close your eyes if not I'll save one back and force you to watch me torture him."
Scarlet turned to the men and her metallic arm turned into a chainsaw which she held above her head.
"Let's paint the walls a bloody red and drink from the fountain of your blood." She cackled as she swung her blade carelessly and giggled as someone was injured.
It would seem that the more blood was spilt the more Scarlet seemed to come alive. At some point she abandoned her chainsaw and simply ripped the men apart, then she would lick the blood on her hands and the murderous gleam in her eyes seemed to grow. They were dead and it was finally over the walls were stained in the red blood and reeked of it. Scarlet stood in the middle of the carnage and scooped up blood in her hands before bathing her naked self in it.
Through the monitor screens a man sat on a chair and observed the proceedings a scowl etched onto his face at the behaviour that had been displayed. She was nothing like that. However, no matter what he did he could never create the perfect duplicate of her. Scarlet was the closest, being physically she had the same coding but the personality was not, but this was all he could get, this was the closet he could get. What he wanted was the original, all of the original and he would make them pay, pay for taking what belonged to him away.