"Who's a good boy! Who's a good boy," she cooed, tenderly stroking his hair as he nuzzled against her in delight.
"Me!" He jubilantly exclaimed. His voice was subdued, muffled as he pressed himself against her abdomen with his arms tightly wrapped around her waist.
Despite the searing pain from his scalded hand from the furnace and the throbbing ache that pulsed across his skin, he found solace in her loving embrace. His lung felt weak, having been submerged under boiling water. Each breath came in as shallow gasps, yet the soothing warmth of her affection washed over him, melting away the discomfort and allowing him to forget the ills of his world.
The day's experiments had been exceptionally grueling, more so than any he could recall. He had forgotten how many times he had screamed and cried, but his throat ached, and his eyes felt like lead. But as he closed his eyes and shut out the noise, this moment became his world. The past was forgotten, and the future was of no concern. All that mattered was the gentle warmth and comforting scent that enveloped him like the warmth of the Spring sun he never knew.
"Oh, John," she spoke softly, her voice filled with motherly tenderness. Though he couldn't see her face, he was certain that she was beaming with pride. Throughout the day, he had never spoken a word of complaint and underwent every procedure no matter how tedious or painful.
"You've done so well," she praised. "And good children deserve a reward."
Excitement coursed through his veins at as he felt his spirits soar higher than he had thought possible. At her words, he couldn't help but giggle from the sheer joy.
But came the dilemma. What should he ask for?
Toys? Nah, they broke too easily
Games? They were no fun by himself.
Movies? Well… There was the new Solider Boy film that he had yet to watch, but he hadn't wanted to watch it alone…
His eyes lit up as an idea blinked into existence. But the only problem was whether she would agree.
"Can… Can we watch a movie?"
"Of course, you can," she said with a smile. "What movie do you want to watch? I bet it's the new Solider Boy one!"
"No… I mean yes! But… Can we watch… Together?" He stuttered hesitantly, unsure if he was asking for too much. She was the nicest person in the world, and anyone who said otherwise was a liar liar pants on fire, but she was always super busy with a super important job and had little time for him. So, he braced himself for the inevitable rejection.
"Hmm…."
He sighed, unsurprised.
"Alright," she agreed.
"I… Huh?" He asked in surprise, doubting his own ears.
"Alright," she said once more, smiling down reassuringly.
YES! YES! YES! YES!
The sheer excitement nearly lifted him into the air. For a moment, he felt tempted to throw caution to the wind and ignore the rules, but he couldn't bear the thought of disappointing her. So he settled for a hug, converting all his excitement to physical strength.
This was going to be the best day of his life!
The only problem now was deciding what to eat. He had been told that popcorn and soda were the best pair for Movies, but he honestly thought that ice cream was slightly better.
Hmm…
Ice cream or popcorn…
"We can get all the treats you want," she consoled. "Popcorn, chocolate, ice cream… Name it and you'll have it."
John smiled. She knew him so well that sometimes, it felt like she could read his mind.
But should he have the popcorn or the ice cream first? Maybe who could eat them together, dip one in the other and take a huge bite. Agh… There was so much to think about. He didn't particularly care what kind of popcorn or soda he got, but the ice cream had to be cherry. Red like the color of her hair. That was non-negotiable.
Look out world, he was going to devour an entire bucket of-.
John froze, his smile faltering as a sense of anxiety overtook him.
He had finished the cherry last week.
His smile drooped further at the realization.
There were other flavors left, but cherry was his favorite. He liked strawberry and vanilla too, but this was supposed to be the best day of his life. He was supposed to watch his favorite movie with his favorite treats with his favorite person. Everything had to be perfect. He had been waiting for this… Endured so much for this moment to allow even the slightest bit of deviation.
Mr. Hostaffer was supposed to stock the ice cream every week but he occasionally forgot. If the man screwed up again during this crucial time….
A bit of pain never killed any-.
John yelped in surprise as he was suddenly swept off the ground by a pair of arms underneath his knees and back, and lifted him up into the air. The same pair swung him around in a circle as he laughed in delight before once more pulling him close to the same warm embrace he had loved so much.
"What's wrong John?" She asked with a concerned smile, amber-ringed eyes gazing down upon his pale blue ones.
"I-." He began before stopping. What would she think of him if he complained about the ice cream? He didn't want to disappoint her into thinking he was still a little boy, whining about not getting his way.
"If it's about the treats, I made sure that everything is in stock. I know how much you love cherries."
His frustration melted away like the snow in April's heat as a bright, eager smile replaced his frown. This was why she was the best.
"But unfortunately, it seems like he's being delayed," she muttered, glancing through the tempered glass.
Oh… He was going to make that man suffer. Maybe a laser through his foot would teach him to be prudent. Or maybe he should just do it through his head? That way, his successor would learn from his predecessor's mistakes.
A pair of fingers pinched his cheeks, eliciting a yelp of not pain but surprise.
"It'll be alright," she reassured him with the same gentle smile that he had grown to love. "How about I read you a book. While we wait."
He preferred movies, but honestly… Anything he did with her would have made him happy.
John nodded vigorously.
She laughed, ruffling his hair as she carried him to his bed to which she took a seat at the edge. He wasted no time making himself comfortable, lying down and placing his head on her lap as she stroked his cheek.
"Is there anything you want me to read?" She asked.
"The Mouse one!"
"The Town Mouse and the Country Mouse? Well, you certainly love that story, don't you?"
He didn't. He listened to it enough that he could now recite it word for word from memory. He was honestly sick of it. But it was the first story she had ever read to him on the day they had met. It would have a special place for that alone, whether he liked the story or not.
After a brief pause and the sound of shuffling of pages, the story began as like it had done a hundred times before.
"Once upon a time, a town mouse took a trip to the countryside, where she met a country mouse."
John closed his eyes as he listened to her voice. The words were like a lullaby, calming his fears and soothing his pain.
"The Town Mouse ate sparingly, and by her manner making it plain that she ate only to be polite."
It was only moments like these that he could truly relax, free from the knives and rods that followed his daily routine. Away from the faceless men in surgical masks that were his most constant companion throughout his life.
"After the meal, the Town Mouse talked about her bountiful life in the city, full of luxuries and delights. In her sleep, the Country Mouse dreamed she was a Town Mouse with all the pleasures her friend had described."
John could feel himself falling asleep, his eyes growing heavier by the second. He resisted, thinking of the movie… The popcorn… The ice cream that he would miss if he lost. It had happened before and he still regretted it to this day. A simple solution would have been to rise, but the comfort of her lap was too relaxing for him to do anything but remain as is.
"The next day, the Country Mouse followed her friend to the City. The Town Mouse showed her the banquet of sweetmeats, jellies, and cheese that piled the dining table. But before the mice could take a single bite, the mewling of a cat sent them scampering in fear."
Cherry ice cream… movie… popcorn… He spoke to himself, his mouth salivating at the thought of the crunchiness of the snack and the cold sweetness of the icy treat. But the mantra only hastened his path to the dream world.
"You may have luxuries, but I prefer my plain food and simple life in the country with the peace that goes with it, said the Country Mouse as she left, stopping only to pick up her bag and umbrella before hurrying home."
His eyes closed, and his breathing slowed to an even pace. The sounds and lights faded away, as-.
The noise of the unlatching bolt was deafening to his ears. Normally, he would have been upset, annoyed at the interruption. But this time, he flew up with a smile, literally shaking in the air with excitement. Mr. Hostaffer must have come! And that meant the ice cream was-.
"Miss Makima?" Mr. Vogelbaum said. "The next trial is ready."
John's smile slipped from his face as his form stilled in the air.
"I see," said Makima, closing the story book as she rose from the bed. "I'm sorry John, but it looks like the movie will have to wait another day."
"…no."
"John?"
"I said no!" He shouted. "You promised me a movie! You said we were going to have ice cream and popcorn!"
"Come now my boy," Vogelbaum said. "Miss Makima is a busy person. She has no time for tantrums. You know she'll be back. You can watch the movie later."
"Shut up!" He screamed, his eyes glowing red as he glared angrily at the man he had once considered a father.
Vogelbaum stepped back, hastily retreating. "What is wrong with you boy? This is no time for-."
The doctor had no chance to finish, interrupted by a small fist that broke past the sound barrier in a sonic boom that now aimed to shatter his face.
With an ear-splitting crash, a palm met his fist. His strike had the force of a tsunami, but the palm had the stability of a mountain. Vogelbaum remained alive, but the shockwave generated from the impact was enough to knock him off his feet, sending him crashing into the walls.
He groaned in pain, struggling and failing to gain his bearings.
"Leave," she ordered, as she held the child-sized fist within her grip.
While Vogelabum remained incoherent, the guards took her orders without hesitation and hastily dragged the injured man out of the room, placing a foot-thick reinforced tempered glass in between John and themselves.
The red glow in his eyes faltered at the sight of the yellow staring down in disappointment. He flinched, trembling as tears threatened to wallow as he waited for the inevitable scolding.
But the words did not come. Instead, she took him once more in her embrace, her arms wrapping around his torso as her hands firmly gripped his head against her chest. "Oh John, I'm so sorry," she apologized, bringing him in tighter. If he were a normal human, he would have been severed in half by the force applied. But all John felt was a firm, comforting pressure.
"You promised…" John whined softly.
"I did…" Makima said sadly, shaking her head. "And I'm sorry I couldn't keep it. But this is beyond my control. I wish I could take you out of here, show you the world where we can watch a ball game in the New York Stadium like you had always wanted. I am powerless here… If I start interfering with your education… I won't be allowed to see you again."
John's heart fell in. His head fell down as his eyes fell to his shoes. It was not his intention to cause trouble for her.
"Will you be there? Watching?" He asked. He had always felt a sense of reassurance whenever she was there close by even through the most difficult of procedures.
"Yes. Always."
"Can we watch the movie after?" He asked, hesitantly.
"Yes," Makima smiled, warming his heart. "I promise."
"Subject V5 #15920 possesses increased durability paired with superhuman strength and enhanced senses standard in mean subjects. The limits of the strength of the said subject are upwards of 112 tons with a durability that can withstand up to 54.6 Meganewtons of force with a standard deviation 2.3 Meganewtons depending on the anatomical location of the area. In this simulated combat, he will face Subject V5 SB01, also known as John. Data collected will be contrasted with previous data, i.e. obtained 2 months and 16 days from present to calculate the subject's propensity for combat."
He quickly tuned himself out of the jargon from the speaker. As procedures went, this was among his favorite. It was no less painful, sometimes even more so. But here, he was allowed to fight back.
And he had every intention to do so.
He looked up and saw the sea of men in white, watching and studying him beside the railings on the upper floors as if he was a mouse on a lab table. His eyes sped through each individual until he found her.
She was here as promised. When their eyes met, he smiled and received a small wave of assurance in return.
He inhaled slowly, letting the air fill his lungs to the max before slowly exhaling over a 20-second period before repeating the procedure. It was a small trick he had learned from Makima, one he found helpful in calming his nerves.
From his experience, having the right state of mind in a fight made the world's difference. There was no way he was going to screw up, not with her watching.
His opponent this time was once again faceless, wearing a black mask over a black eyepiece. Although he was at least five times his size, he seemed slim, almost scrawny compared to his usual opponents. His opponent's figure was more similar to that of the researchers rather than the well-built frames of the guards.
As the time countdown drew closer to zero by the second, both combatants entered a form of stance. The man raised his arms to his head with one foot ahead of the other in a classic boxing stance designed to maximize defense.
John on the other hand lowered himself to the ground, his legs bent in a way that he could propel himself in any direction. In a battle between superhumans that could rend the Earth with even a missed blow, mortal skill and techniques served little use. There was no blocking a blow that could shatter mountains. Even if he did, he would still be sent flying into the wall. Physics still worked, and his flight wasn't strong enough to dampen that much inertia.
Thus, rather than having a solid physical defense, maintaining excellent maneuverability, positioning, and battlefield awareness was of more import. These were among the lessons he took swimmingly from Makima.
Both sides took their measure, studying… Analyzing.
Not one word was exchanged as usual.
"Begin!"
Both sides leaped into action as the tell-tale noise of simultaneous sonic booms vibrated the air as two figures moved at speeds invisible to the naked eye.
The man charged, every step shattering the reinforced ground as he aimed at the boy's chin, hoping for an easy knock-out blow. But while the man charged, John leaped, not at the man but into the air where he remained.
The first thing that Makima had taught him in terms of combat was to exploit every weakness his opponent possessed, whether it was mental or physical. As far as he knew, the man could not fly, giving John a mobility advantage that he planned to exploit relentlessly.
His eyes glowed red as he felt the heat concentrating within his pupils. He fired, a bright beam of red laser moving at the speed of light, far beyond the reaction speed of any human, normal or super.
The laser struck, and the man screamed as his flesh melted. He leaped to the side, then to the right, then down, jerking in all directions. While he was slower than light, he could still move faster than John's eyes could track.
John smirked. It was pointless, this fight was already in the bag. As long as he remained in the air, there was nothing-
His sight blackened as he felt something solid crack on his skull. His sight remained present long enough to see a piece of rock, identical to the kind used for the floor of the stadium, fall off his temple. By the time his sight returned, he was on the ground, staring up at his opponent. He couldn't see his eyes, but he didn't need to. The hate was obvious.
A boot slammed down on his chest, knocking the air from his lungs. His eyes burned again, but another boot clipped him across the temple, sending his laser cutting to the side. A hand gripped his head, keeping his eyes pointing to the right and away from the man's body as the other hand plummeted blows down on his face.
He tried to scream, but he had no air to do so. All forms of discipline forgotten in panic, he flailed, hoping that a lucky strike would land.
It didn't.
With the far greater reach availed to an adult man compared to a pre-teen child, his opponent easily kept himself away from his fists while continuing to pummel blows on the same spot.
It hurt. A lot. Each individual hit was painful, and pain was becoming cumulative.
But he was used to it. The hurt wasn't anything he hadn't experienced before. While it wasn't something he believed he would ever get used to, the hits weren't even in the top 5 from what he had experienced in the past.
With surprise and shock fading, calmness once again took his mind as Makima's lessons sang in his head. Grappling as a technique required an anchor, something to hold the opponent down. That anchor was typically the person's body weight. 70kg of mass holding down another was enough to keep most people down on the ground long enough to perform maneuvers.
But to a superhuman that could lift multiple tons with a pinky? It was worse than useless.
It was a mistake.
His fists slammed into the ground, propelling him and by extension, his opponent into the air where he let his flight do the work. Carried on by the extra momentum, he slammed his opponent into the ceiling, his head buried in the man's abdomen with reinforced steel plates holding him up above, knocking the air out of his lungs as he had done to him.
Stunned, the man slacked, falling limp for a second before bringing his arms to the sides of his head and curling his body in an attempt to raise his defense.
But it was to no avail.
Such methods of defense were worthless in a fight among Superhumans.
Rather than punching, John grabbed the man's right arm with both hands and flew, carrying himself and dragging his opponent with him.
The moment he neared a wall, he swung, slamming the man into it with a deafening bang.
Without pause, he flew in the opposite direction, moving at speeds that must have surpassed his previous limit as he swung the man in a way a person would swing a baseball bat.
He turned, flying to another wall. He swung again.
Again and again.
Five times. Ten. More.
In moments, the entire arena was filled with man-sized craters.
When he felt the resistance slack, he flew under, head first. Raising his arms above his head, he swung down, whipping the man into the ground with an overhead wing.
Among the bang, he heard a crack.
Then the screams began.
The faceless man in black clutched his bent arm as he wailed.
But the fight was not yet over. Makima had always told him to finish the fight. Even if victory seemed assured.
So he knelt and struck. Over and over again, covering the man in a flurry of blows that rendered flesh and broke bone.
Soon the man was barely cognizant, too hurt to even scream. All he could let out were pitiful moans.
John was tired, and his wounds ached.
But he had won.
Popcorn… Soda… Movies… Ice cream…
He smiled in happiness as he searched for Makima in the crowd until he found her. He looked at her, searching for looks of approval but faltered when he did not find any.
In place of a smile, she looked down, coldly at John. The same expression she used when he had severely disappointed her.
His heart dropped like a rock.
"Subject V5 #15920 has been disabled, ending recording at 2 minutes 32.04 seconds. Remove all personnel from-."
"Finish him," interrupted a voice that he recognized all too well. It was spoken without the speakers, but his ears picked up the voice through the walls.
"Miss Makima what are you doing?" Hurriedly asked one of the researchers.
"Kill him John," Makima ordered.
"What?!" The researcher exclaimed in shock. "The fight is over, there-."
No other words would leave his mouth again. He fell, collapsing onto the ground, blood pouring from his eyes, nose, and ears.
No other protest was made.
"No… Please…" Moaned the broken man, pleading through broken teeth. "I have a family… A daughter."
"He's lying John," Makima refuted. "He's a bad man, a murderer. He hurt many people."
The man shook his head in denial. "She's lying… That bitch is crazy! I fucking work here!"
"Kill him John," she ordered again.
"Come on kid," he begged. "I have girl at your-."
He gurgled, interrupted by a pair of hands at his throat. Killing a super through blunt force was always tough. But most supes had to breathe. Even if they could lift mountains and take dips in the sun.
The man struggled, trying to resist, but his body was broken.
"Don't call her a bitch you big jerk," he scolded.
John had always found strangulation to be far more efficient than other forms of killing. There were no screams that hurt his ears, there was no smell that clogged his nose, and it was overall… Clean.
In a few minutes, the man lay still. No longer moving.
John sighed as he relaxed his arms. Gripping was still tiring to the arms, especially when he did it for a long period of time.
A sudden pair of arms enveloped him.
"Well Done!" Makima praised.
All was good.
Today really was the best day of his life.
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