It was amazing that one could feel so free after such a small, insignificant action. A weight that I never knew I had had been lifted and I felt better than I ever had before. Relief, I thought. Yes, that was the word. Relief flooded by body like a wash of pattering rain after a long, painful drought. My body welcomed the release gratefully, and I almost sank to the floor in exhaustion. It had been a while since I had actually physically rested and somewhat restored myself. Too busy thinking about Adam and my revenge, I had pushed myself to my limits and beyond. It was time to rest.
I soon found a safe corner in Adam's hideout where it was safe and I could see any guards heading towards me easily. The corner was dark, and my only source of light was from a flickering, unsure light-bulb in the middle of the hallway to my left. Though my limbs were relaxing, my brain was at full speed, and my eyes were wary of any movement. All of a sudden, organizing my thoughts seemed like a very difficult task. Instead, I let words fill my brain, dissolving out of sight to put a new idea in the spotlight. Time and time again, the same thought would claim the stage. I tried to think different thoughts, but it was impossible in my exhausted state. Finally, I gave up and let the burning question take over my brain. I could put it in many different forms, but it was the same question, in the end.
Had he survived?
Had I killed him?
What had I done?
An unfamiliar sensation took over. Was that... doubt? I shook myself and scoffed inwardly. Eve? Doubt? In the beginning, I didn't even possess emotions such as fear or shyness or being unsure. This was the first time I had felt an uncertain twist in my stomach, my throat freezing up and completely dry. At last, it was all too much, my exhaustion, confusion, lostness. My body and my mind couldn't take it anymore. Black started taking over the corners of my field of vision as I fought to stay conscious with everything I had left.
I sank to the ground.
o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o
He was clutching his stomach when I found him. A puddle of what looked like blood (but couldn't be, obviously) lay in several small puddles across the room. There were visible signs of a struggle, but whoever had attacked my master had obviously won. As I rushed to my master's aid, he pushed me away and hoarsely whispered, "Find the girl." I protested, because I knew some of his wounds would become fatal fast. Many were already festering, and I flinched at the ugly cuts. Standing up, I looked around the room, searching for a First Aid kit. Since my proud master had bluffed that with the security we had, no one would be able to get close to him, of course the room did not have the kit that we now so sorely needed. Inwardly, I reminded myself to put one here after all of this mess was over.
I left him laying somewhat oddly on the floor, and ran as fast as I could to my own office. It wasn't much of an office, I could tell you that much. Adam did not treat his employees well, but the pay was good, and I needed the money, as did everyone else that worked here. Work was tiring, and we would arrive home late, and leave in the morning when all the rest of the family was still asleep. Sometimes even before daybreak. Back to the office.
To call it a cubicle was putting it nicely. Most of the offices were in what some would call boiler rooms. It sure was boiling, I could tell you that. Everyone was sweating heartily by the time lunch came around. The other offices, the better ones, were large and spacious. They were warehouses compared to our tiny offices, with nice furniture and sometimes even windows! No one saw who came in or out of there, and some of my comrades even suspected no one worked there at all.
I spotted the First Aid kit, grabbed it and dashed out before perspiration would start on my brow. Everyone working there looked at me oddly, but went back to work soon enough. Whatever they did on those computers took up all of their attention, and they were too concentrated to really wonder and care about my strange behaviour. Then again, I didn't have time to explain.
The "bleeding" had somewhat stopped, and with the help of a few bandages, Adam looked as well as one could be in that state. As I helped him into his chair, I heard him muttering to himself about the army. I opened my mouth to ask him what he had meant to say, but thought better of it. If the master wasn't in the mood to talk when he was in perfectly good health, I honestly doubted that he would be now.
Taking the glass of water I offered him from the cooler by the door, I stepped back and awaited further instructions. To my surprise, the master sighed and gestured for me to leave. I did, of course. Closing the door behind me, I took a deep breath. Master wasn't usually so... meek. Shrugging my shoulders, I decided not to complain and took off down the hallway.
o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o
Thankfully, the brute was gone. Adam was alone, at last, and finally, mercifully, able to plot. Swiveling in his chair and ignoring the pain in his shoulder and stomach, Adam typed in the password and drummed his long fingers against the desk. He was out of patience and wanted to access only one file, if that demon of a girl hadn't disposed of the document already.
Cursing under his breath, Adam decided that he didn't have to tolerate this. Later, he would call one of his many workers to fix the damn computer, but right now, he had way too much on his mind. Surely, we would think, an evil genius like Adam would have everything smoothly under control , but even some people surprise us. He wasn't organized at all, and ideas littered the room. On every available surface there was paper or at least one of the six computers the blonde owned. Cracking his knuckles and wincing at the sudden pain in his chest, he took a deep breath while running his spider-like fingers through his hair. For the first time in a very long while, Adam remembered why he was on this killing spree in the first place. Surely, this story would not end with a "happily ever after..."
He despised remembering. It hurt him to think how he had hurt Eve. She was everything to him, and down deep inside, he wished that she cared about him as she cared about Train. Sometimes he even considered not killing the sweeper, but decided against it. Disposing of him would make Eve forget about the boy and love him instead. This was the one part in his seemingly flawless plan that Adam was not so sure about. He fidgeted, averting his gaze to the floor below. Adam did not like being unsure. It was one of the few feelings that made him despise putting in that damned program.
The program that Adam so deeply despised had actually been sitting in his computer drive for quite a while. It had been a scientific breakthrough in its time, but that had been a long time ago, so far back that he had to concentrate to even remember the faintest smidgen of a memory. It was called "Emote Software 3.0," though most of the scientist that had worked hard for its success nicknamed it "the Emoticon Program" for obvious purposes. Well, not so obvious for us. As we gaze deep into the mind of one of the world's greatest (and quite unknown) villains, we venture back to when they did not have what most people would like to call a soul. Then again, did they ever? This particular bad guy does, though it might not seem like it. With a soul comes many other useful things like senses, awareness and what we like to call emotions.
"Emote Software 3.0" was created a few years ago, but since Adam had so much on his mind at the moment, it seemed like a lifetime had passed before he could remember the slightest bit about it. Now that he focused on the fateful occasion, memories flooded back and drowned his mind with their suddenness. He was being pulled down by a whirlpool of his own thoughts and couldn't get out, no matter how hard he tried.
A man, he recalled. In the beginning, it had been a man. Declared by all Japan a genius, he absorbed that praise heartily and began working, putting his whole heart into the design of this revolutionary software not yet named. Long hours had been spent in front of a computer screen, and many before that planning the design. Eve had already been created, and so had himself. Both of them had been standing side by side. Adam recalled this memory as the only one that Eve had not been hostile towards him. A miracle, really. Never mind those two - they are not important at this time.
The name of the man was on the edge of Adam's memory, though he couldn't quite grasp it. After various trials of trying experiments on Eve and Adam both, the software was perfected, and Eve was the first one to try it. This program really was a miracle, you see. Before its creation, Adam and Eve were simply beings without emotions, spirits or a real life. This program made them... human, so to speak.
Eve was tested on first.
"Come, Eve," her master drawled from the doorway of the laboratory. Eve blinked and directed her gaze at the man, cocking her head almost amusingly. She, of course, had been trained not to question anything her master said or ordered her, and so assumed the role of an obedient puppy and trailed after her master, not shooting a glance anywhere else but forward. That was when I heard the murmurs from inside, and cocked my head to hear better.
"... Yes, I've got it. When will she wake up, do you think?" An uncertain voice faltered.
"Soon, sir. Very soon, I'm sure of it. She can probably hear us right now."
"Yes, yes... Of course, I'm sure..."
Not soon after this odd discussion, Eve came out, beaming. Adam didn't understand at the time, he thought her face had deformed, but Eve had smiled for the first time in that laboratory. It was a beautiful smile, full of happiness and the delight of being alive and human, with real feelings and possibly, something he never got. Something he would never get, no matter how hard he tried.
In that smile, Adam saw a soul.
Finally, mercifully, he was able to escape and lay on the sand of the Real World - hard, solid earth between his fingers and under him, holding him steady by that wonderful force we call gravity. Well, concrete and wooden desk in this case, but Adam the villain was back nonetheless. Ready he was, proven by his eyes that turned darker as he concentrated on things other than memories of his dark past. This was a good sign, for when Adam's magenta eyes turned darker, the color of Train's blood, he was ready for battle. This battle would be hard fought, sorely won, but by whom? That, dear reader, we will soon find out...