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Features sexual themes or language, but does not depict sexual acts.
Explicit depiction of sexual acts.
Features non-consensual sexual acts.
Depiction of severe mistreatment of children
Depiction of self-harm
Depiction of suicide
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Blue Blooded Blues
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Info
This article contains depictions of severe depression and psychological trauma, thoughts of self-harm and suicide, and medical abuse.
This article was made for tiredsn0w as part of SCP Art Exchange 2024!
I hope you enjoy it! :)
5a82 let out a frightened scream as he jolted up in a panic, the dream images continuing to flash through his mind. As he began to regain awareness, he investigated his surroundings. Instead of being connected to tubes and being slowly consumed by flames, he found himself surrounded by four white foam walls. At one end of the room was a large two way window, and at another a securely locked door. He was lying in a bed dressed in a white shirt and pants and covered with a sheet.
“…another one of those damn nightmares.“ He whispered to himself in his native alien language. He began to calm down and felt less anxious. These nightmares were a constant reminder. A reminder of all he‘d ever known and experienced for most of his miserable life. His true nature. What he was born to be, likely all he’d ever be, regardless of what the doctors within this place thought or said.
Thinking of the people here had gotten him diving deep into his thoughts again. Just how long had he been here now anyways, in this bleak complex facility owned by the people on this planet? It was hard to keep track of the number of days, especially due to differing planetary hours. From what he was able to determine, he believed it had been at least a year since the crash that resulted in him ending up here.
“Why am I even thinking about this? So what if I’ve been in this place for a year? It’s not like it matters…Nothing’s changed.” He said to himself as he curled into a fetal position and leaned his head against his knees. No matter what planet he’s on, it doesn’t change the fact he’s going to be in the same position as he’s always been. Surrounded by scientists and doctors, the occasional experiments, interviews, and checkups. It was all the same. Sure he hasn’t been stuffed into a pod, connected to countless tubes and wires, or strapped to a table being poked and prodded like a lab animal like he was back home after he reached the necessary age. Sure, maybe a few people in this place had been a bit more “empathetic” or “compassionate”, stating that they just wanted to understand and help. But he knew better now. He could see through the facade and knew the truth.
The truth was no matter what the people here said or did, it was all the same. They were no different than those back home, and he was going through the same cycle of pain and torment that he had gone through since the very moment of his birth. Why couldn’t he just be free? To finally end the pain and misery? Why couldn’t he just be allowed to die already? It was as if the universe was keeping him alive just to suffer. Even when he had found one opportunity to put a bullet in his head, it was taken from him, and he found himself in a new cell in another one of their countless prisons. He couldn’t even harm himself without being caught. Even when he wasn’t being watched, he couldn’t harm himself thanks to cushioned walls and protective hand guards and socks so he couldn’t claw at himself. He couldn't even write down his own thoughts anymore since they restricted his access to paper and pencils.
One day the universe decided to tease him with a false sense of hope. He found himself feeling incredibly weak and unable to breathe without a machine. For the first time in his life, he felt genuinely ill. For weeks he felt as if he was withering away and he didn’t know why. But he didn’t really care, because he thought that the universe had decided to show him mercy. He was finally going to die. Cruelly, this hope was taken away from him again, as he suddenly recovered and the cycle continued without end, showing just how cruel the universe truly is.
Strangely though, shortly after his near death experience, things around him had begun to change. It all started during one of his annual checkups. He noticed that the symbol on their tags was different now. The circle with arrows was replaced with a “V” surrounded by a green star. One of them also called him a VNP instead of the usual SCP which he’d gotten used to. His curiosity peaked him and he began to eavesdrop on the conversations surrounding him outside his cell. He heard mentions of “vanguard” and something about them figuring out a “normalization protocol” regarding him, and thus not yet officially being a VNP. They said his mental state and paranoia could be a problem and were concerned any protocol could negatively affect him and make his mental health worse than it already was.
He snarled and clenched his hands just thinking about it, remembering what they accused him of.
“They accuse me of being paranoid?! I’m not paranoid, I’m self aware! I’m more than that…I’m a victim.“ His anger then quickly turned to sadness as tears began to pour down his face. He buried his head back into his lap.
“…I’m an abomination.”
Vanguard Watchtower-19
9 February, 2022
The double doors to the administrative meeting room of Watchtower-19 opened as numerous directors and researchers exited. They’d just finished a meeting between the site directors to discuss which Foundation sites had yet to be converted into either a watchtower or lighthouse, and how to adapt their standard procedures to better reflect Vanguard’s mission of normalization.
One of these researchers was Dr. Mitchell, who volunteered to fill in for Site-66’s director Louis Martin who was attending another meeting formulating a normalization protocol for 1929, after reported sightings of small identical phenomena occurring within New Mexico.
She had taken extensive notes in the meeting regarding lighthouse facility configuration plans, public opening scheduling suggestions, currently selected anomalies for normalization, and new standard protocol ideas.
She pulled out her phone and began dialing the director of Site-66, while she continued to walk down the corridor.
“Hello, Director Martin? This is Dr. Mitchell, the meeting at Watchtower-19 just concluded.”
…
“Everything went well sir, We’ve come to some agreements and developed several proposals we believe will be necessary to convert 66 to a lighthouse.”
…
“Yes, I’ll be sure to go over all the details with you and the rest of 66’s personnel upon your return. We can also discuss any recommendations regarding the proposals.”
…
“Understood. I’ll return to the site as soon as I’m finished with my work here, there are just a few things I need to take care of before I leave.”
…
“Yes, I will, thank you sir.” She finished speaking as she hung up and placed her phone back in her pocket. She sighed as she rubbed the back of head In agitation. It had been several months since the Veil of Secrecy was brought down and the Foundation dissolved to become Vanguard, but she was still getting used to all the changes that had been occurring. While a small part of her was glad the Veil ended, another part of her was annoyed by it, because now they had to go through the same amount of effort in containing anomalies to explain these things to the public.
But her colleagues working at Site-66 could worry about all of that when she forwarded them the documents. For now she had another meeting she had to attend before she left.
An annual meeting with a subject that she’d had the most interactions with… an old “acquaintance”.
It took her about eight minutes to reach SCP-6118’s chamber. She’d been there often to check in on them, and attempt the occasional failed interview to get some clear answers about their past. The current on-duty surveilling researcher noticed Dr. Mitchell’s arrival.
“How’s 6118’s status? Any updates I need to be informed of?” She asked as she glanced through the two way glass.
“Nope, just the usual. The daily pattern of them mostly preferring to keep to themselves, curling up in bed, getting up to consume their nutritional solutions, or read the books we’ve provided.” The researcher said as they got up from their desk.
“You’re positive? There hasn’t been any noticeable improvements or changes in their behavior as of late?” She questioned as she continued to look through the window.
“Well actually, if you look at the night surveillance footage, the subject often trembles and shifts in their sleep. Facial expressions and lip movement also suggest aggravated or disturbed muttering. This commonly leads to them waking up in a panicked and agitated state. Obviously, 6118 is suffering from constant nightmares.“
“I’m already aware of the nightmares. It seems to be a common experience, even during their time in Site-66.”
“Well, unfortunately it seems their frequency has increased. This is having a massively negative impact on the subject. Take a look, this is the footage from last night.”
Dr. Mitchell watched as 6118 thrashed around for a time in their sleep before jolting up screaming in a cold sweat. It took some time before they calmed down and returned to a fetal position.
“You are right, they seem deeply disturbed. But I’ve seen similar behavior before.” Dr. Mitchell stated as she looked to the researcher.
“That’s not the concerning part though. Keep watching.”
She looked back at the footage, and after a few seconds noticed that 6118 uncurled and appeared to be showing signs of deep emotional distress. They began to breathe heavily as they looked down at their hands. Suddenly, Dr. Mitchell was then taken aback as she witnessed them beginning to aggressively use their teeth to bite and pull at the mittens and socks strapped to their hands and feet. This went on for several minutes before they suddenly stopped, only to suddenly grab their pillow and press it firmly against their face in what appeared to be an attempt at self suffocation. This doesn’t work however, due to their bed and clothing being made with breathable materials. Eventually, 6118 appeared to give up as they threw their pillow to the other side of the room and then lay sprawled on the floor, crying hysterically for a time before settling into quiet sobs and whimpers. The footage stopped playing as the researcher looked back to Mitchell, deeply disturbed by what she witnessed.
“In the morning it attempted to assault the personnel entering the room for its morning nutrition. They also stole one of their keycards and attempted to escape…but not before trying to use it to slit its own throat. We had to physically restrain it before we administered sedatives. We decided it has become necessary to keep it mildly sedated to keep it calm. But here’s the most concerning part, even after sedating it…it begged for us to let it die, claiming that it is a monster. The higher ups are starting to doubt if we’ll be able to develop a suitable normalization protocol to grant 6118 VNP status.”
Hearing this made Dr. Mitchell feel a deep sense of pity for 6118 as she looked at them through the window. Her compassion for the alien had increased greatly after the incident on 16/6/2020 when they attempted to kill themself after gaining their hand on Sergeant Brinley’s gun. Though she felt anger towards them at first for killing the sergeant over a book, the anger quickly changed to worry when they turned the gun on themself. It was at that moment that Mitchell came to realize that 6118 was a deeply disturbed and traumatized individual. She truly wanted to help them after that incident, but she couldn’t really do much without knowing about their past. The info they’d gathered so far led her to believe that 6118 was the victim of experimentation as a possible weapon, although she couldn’t get any confirmation since they refused to speak.
“I presume you wish to try another attempt at communication?” The researcher asked Mitchell.
“…No, I don’t think that would work at this point. Make sure to inform me if anything comes up that I should know about.”
She turned around and left the chamber, feeling more depressed than she had when she first arrived. Distracted, she did not notice the ecstatic individual traveling down the hall, causing her to crash into Dr. Mitchell as they both tumbled and scattered papers around.
“Oh no! Oh jeez, I am so sorry! I didn’t mean to do that. I was just in such a good mood that I guess I wasn’t paying attention to what was in front of me and-“ the woman says in a slight panic as she proceeded to gather up her documents, only to be cut off by Dr. Mitchell.
“No, it's fine. It’s my fault, I’m the one who wasn’t paying attention.” She said as she got up and dusted off her lab coat. The woman she’d bump into was a fellow researcher. A young woman with a ginger colored curly bob cut and brown eyes. She looked to be in her late twenties and wore unusually colorful clothing for a researcher. Her short sleeved lab coat was lime green and she wore a choker, bracelets, and anklets made of colored beads. She also wore moss green sandals and a big smile.
“Here let me help you with that.” Mitchell said as she started helping to pick up the scattered documents.
“Oh thank you. I really appreciate the help, it would be a pain to pick this up all by myself. I’m Christina by the way, junior researcher Christina Phillips. Again I’m sorry I ran into you, I’m just in such a good mood today. I’m a little scatter brained.”
“It’s fine, like I said it was my fault for not paying attention, I have a few things on my mind. Dr. Jane Mitchell of Site-19, or Watchtower-19 as were are calling it now.”
Dr. Mitchell’s attention shifted to the document she had just picked up, noticing it was a proposal request. But it was its contents that really caught her eye.
(Sapient entity/humanoid rehabilitation and psychiatric program.)
“…Excuse me, if you don’t mind me asking, can you explain this rehabilitation program?” Dr. Mitchell asked as she handed the last bits of documentation to Christina.
“Oh, I’m glad you asked! You see, I actually came here from Site-oh I mean Watchtower-17, to present my proposal for a new program that I think will be hugely useful to Vanguard’s mission of introducing anomalies to the rest of the world. Now, it’s common knowledge that aside from creatures, inanimate objects, locations, and other forms of anomalous phenomena, we also have a number of sapient entities and anomalous humans. A number of these individuals would probably be easy to rehabilitate and set free to live a normal life, but there are sadly those who aren’t accustomed to living in the outside world, or are suffering from psychological problems that present a huge problem when it comes to setting them free. So that’s why I came up with this!”
Christina then showed the reorganized proposal sheet to Dr. Mitchell.
“To put it simply, I proposed a rehab program that helps teach sapient entities the norms and customs of living within the outside world of society, as well as providing therapeutic care to those who are suffering from mental illness or psychological trauma. This offers a chance at recovery for them and a chance to be out in public. I showed this to Director Moose and she granted permission for myself and my colleagues at 17 to create the program. Oh man, I can't wait to tell them she said yes!” she said as she hugged the documents and lightly chuckled with excitement.
Despite being a little weirded out by the young researchers' giddiness, Dr. Mitchell couldn’t help but admit that such a proposal was a good idea. After all, a number of sapient humanoid anomalies had been in containment for years, decades even. So it was only logical that a number of them would need tutoring or even therapy before being granted VNP status.
It was at that moment the metaphorical light bulb went off in her head, and she remembered.
6118.
She turned back to look at the door she just exited, remembering the disturbed alien within. Perhaps this could be the chance to finally get the answers that she and Vanguard were seeking about 6118’s past, and getting them the help they clearly needed.
She turned back to Christina as a plan was forming in her head.
“By chance, do you have a pamphlet for this program?”
Hearing this made Christina smile.
“Oh definitely, I actually already made some that I brought over on the off chance someone here might be interested. Are you thinking about joining as a volunteer for the program?” she asked as she handed one of the pamphlets to Dr. Mitchell.
“Well, I would say I definitely find it interesting and I may consider joining.” she paused briefly as she turned back to the door leading to 6118’s chamber.
“…But I might also know someone who desperately needs the help.”
Vanguard Watchtower-19, Director’s Office
9 February, 2022
Dr. Mitchell nervously shifted her shoulders as she took a seat in front of Director Tilda Moose’s desk. Normally she wouldn’t feel so uncomfortable when speaking with a site director, but she’s aware that Tilda is one of the few people in Vanguard who has a lot on their plate when it comes to the changes that are happening. Mitchell also doubted that she’ll convince her to allow what she has on her mind.
“Again, I wanted to apologize for the sudden request to speak with you. I know you’re likely very busy right now, and considering the site conversion meeting was less than half an hour ago…”
Tilda Moose raised her hand to assure Mitchell that it was nothing to worry about.
“There’s no reason to be concerned about it Dr. Mitchell, I’m willing to make some time to provide assistance to fellow personnel. You actually chose a good time to talk with me as I just got off a video meeting. So, what is it that you wished to speak with me about?”
“Right. I learned you recently authorized the program stated in this pamphlet, right?” Mitchell said as she showed Tilda the pamphlet for the rehabilitation program.
“Ah, I presume you had a run in with Junior researcher Phillips then?” Tilda asked, as she looked over the pamphlet.
“Run in is one way to put it, yes.” Mitchell responded while looking the other way, thinking back to when they tumbled over each other.
“I thought as much. I’m quite familiar with young Ms. Phillips. A bright young lady. Perhaps a little bit too peppy for someone in her field though.”
Dr. Mitchell couldn’t help but chuckle a bit at that comment, thinking it fit so well.
“But to answer your question, yes. I authorized the establishment of a rehabilitation and therapy program for the express purpose of providing tutoring and counseling for sapient anomalous individuals and entities. This could help teach or remind them how to live life in the outside world, as well as to help them overcome any psychological issues and trauma they may have experienced…especially if we were the ones responsible for their traumas.” Tilda answered Mitchell, feeling a bit uncomfortable mentioning some of those mentally disturbed cases were the result of their own actions.
“Well the reason I came to speak with you is because I have a request I’d like to make regarding the program.”
“Oh? I’m presuming you wish to apply to join the program?” Tilda asked.
Before Mitchell answered, she scratched the back of her head nervously while looking away.
“Well that’s one of my considerations. But that’s not the main reason. The thing is…I came here to request that 6118 be entered into the program.”
For what felt like an eternity, they sat and silently stared at each other. Mitchell had an expression of anticipation and concern, while Tilda looked at her with an expression that shows she was still processing what she had just heard.
Finally after a few more seconds, Tilda finally responded.
“…Dr. Mitchell, in case you aren’t aware, there has been a concerning development with 6118.”
“I know, I already saw the footage from last night, and I’ve been informed they are now being mildly sedated.” Mitchell answered, knowing where this discussion was going.
“Then I’m sure you know very well that such a decision is not only risky, but could lead to serious consequences should things go wrong. As such, I can’t approve of 6118 being admitted to the program.“
Mitchell suspected that she was going to disagree with the idea, knowing very well how dangerous 6118 can be if they become too unstable. But she knew unless something was done to help them, they would become even more unstable.
“Director Moose, please! You have to let 6118 join, it might be the best means to develop a normalization protocol to grant them VNP status!”
“I just can’t allow it because it’s too much of a risk to others, both personnel and those enrolled in the program. We both know that 6118 is psychologically unstable and is unwilling to cooperate.”
Mitchell then stood up from her chair with a determined and annoyed facial expression.
“Based on trauma! I’ve looked over what little we managed to gather from both the notes it made and what little we managed to get out of the interviews before they started refusing to speak. Add in the fact that they were in a containment tube when we recovered them, I believe that 6118 is a victim suffering from psychological trauma, possibly a victim of abuse via unethical experimentations. Not only that, but I have suspicions that they probably were even forced to be used as a weapon, made to do horrible things against their will. Why else would they claim themselves to be a monster, or how they knew how to effectively use a firearm?”
Hearing this information gave Tilda pause. Taking into account what she knows regarding 6118, she can’t help but admit that Mitchell had a point. Some of the information stated in the official documents for 6118 did match with what she was implying, the idea of them being a test subject of some sort of experiment was very likely. Also Tilda wasn’t stupid, she was clearly aware that 6118 was a psychologically disturbed individual, showing clear signs of PTSD and self harm. It was one of the reasons why they reinforced their containment chamber with foam padding and strapped sturdy mittens and socks to their limbs, to prevent them from hurting themselves.
“But what’s really concerning, is that whatever trauma they went through has clearly affected not only their mental and physical well-being, but also their emotional state! After an obviously disturbing nightmare last night, which they’ve been suffering from on a daily basis lately, 6118 went ballistic trying to destroy their own garments before collapsing to the floor in an emotional breakdown. But I don’t think it’s because they’re haunted by whatever torture they’ve experienced…I think 6118 is afraid of themself.”
This statement really got Tilda’s attention, wondering what Mitchell was implying.
“What exactly do you mean by ‘afraid of themself’?” She asked.
“Think about it. Say the theory of them being a weapon is true. Wouldn’t you be afraid of yourself if you knew you only existed to hurt others? Also, remember what I mentioned earlier, they claimed that they were a monster. Someone wouldn’t just call themself that unless they had done something terrible. But the part that has me the most concerned…is that I think their self fear is beginning to overwhelm them and is causing suicidal ideations. During the incident that got them transferred to this site, they tried to kill themself with a gun they stole, and this morning they tried to slit their throat with a keycard they stole! Hell, they even begged the doctors holding them down to kill them!”
Mitchell then placed both her hands on the desk as she looked straight into Tilda’s eyes.
“I get that you don’t want to risk putting others in possible danger, but if anyone is at greater risk of being harmed by 6118…it’s 6118 themself! They’re sick, and clearly getting worse! That’s why I am begging you to let them attend Christina’s rehabilitation program. Because they clearly need the kind of help she and those applying as personnel can provide! They need this, and if we don’t get them the help they need soon…it might be too late.”
Tilda was still for a moment, pondering over everything Mitchell said. Eventually, Tilda came to the conclusion that Mitchell was right, that 6118 was clearly sick and in desperate need of professional help. If they just keep them in their chamber in bed constantly pumped full of sedatives, and considering 6118’s incredible immune system, it was likely they’d somehow develop an immunity to the sedatives and attempt to use the IV syringe to stab themself to death. Not to mention Vanguard’s mission was to not just normalize the anomalous, but to also help the people of the anomalous world. Varis’ ongoing campaign was a major example of that.
“So please Tilda, I’m begging you…Let them join the program. If you’re still worried about the possibility of someone getting hurt, I’ll watch over them, and come up with precautionary measures to be extra safe. I promise to take full responsibility.” Mitchell asked as she looked at Tilda with a pleading and worried expression.
Eventually Tilda let out a tired sigh and turned back to Mitchell.
“Dr. Mitchell, after careful consideration and taking what you have stated into account…I’ll allow 6118 to be admitted into the program, but only under strict supervision and surveillance. I’ll also need to be informed of any progress or lack thereof.”
A soft smile grew on Mitchell’s face as she stood and clasped her hands together.
“Thank you Director Moose! I’ll be sure to keep you updated.”
Mitchell got up from the chair and proceeded to walk out of the office, but was then stopped by Tilda as she spoke up.
“Promise me one thing though.”
Mitchell turned to look at Tilda.
“Just…don’t make me regret this.”
If 5a82 wasn’t already suspicious of the changes that had been occurring lately with his “caretakers”, then he certainly was now with the situation he currently found himself in.
‘First they began pumping me with drugs to keep me under control, now I find myself strapped to some form of mobile chair riding in one of their aerial vehicles to who knows where?!’ He thought to himself, feeling more mentally sober than he did an hour ago. He couldn’t help but wonder if they intentionally lowered the amount of sedatives being pumped into him, or if he was starting to develop an immunity.
Seeing as he physically couldn’t do anything about the situation he was in, he mentally began going over the events leading to his current state. He may be restrained physically, but at least he’s free in his mind.
He recalled that he was just lying in his bed, feeling the effects of the sedatives doing their job. One of the doctors had left one of his provided books on his lap in case he felt like reading, not that he wanted to.
‘It’s not like it was going to help in any way. It wouldn't end my suffering. Besides, I remember I already finished that one.’
Then suddenly without warning, a team of guards came into his room, one of them pushing a mobile chair. Then just forced him out of bed and sat him down in the chair, strapping his wrists and ankles into the restraints.
‘No doubt to keep me from doing anything they don’t like. Not surprising considering what happened the last time guards with guns came into my room.’
As they were rolling him out of his room, he was greeted by one of the scientists, a woman who for some strange reason, seemed vaguely familiar to him. It wasn’t until she greeted him with a “hello” that he realized who she was, recognizing her voice. It was the same woman who occasionally spoke to him through the intercom, always attempting to get him to reveal the secrets of his past. This was the first time he actually saw her in person. Out of all the people in this organization, she’s the one he’s had the most interactions with.
‘I mean voru, she’s the reason I even know how to speak their language.’
What she told him filled him with both curiosity and suspicion. Something he couldn’t stop thinking about after hearing it.
“I understand that you don’t exactly trust us, and I know that it very likely has to do with whatever occurred to you in your past. But I want you to understand we really are trying to help you, and we just want to know what you are and what happened to you so we can do just that. We’re taking you somewhere that has a new program to provide special help to those currently in our custody, especially those going through traumatic stress. I think it’ll greatly help you in dealing with your inner turmoil.”
‘Program…my inner turmoil…help me? Do they really think I’m so gullible?! After what they’ve done to me so far, the tests, the interrogations, the incident with my book, the fabric cages on my extremities, the sedatives?! This is all just a ploy like always! The same kind of ploys I’ve experienced for most of my miserable existence…”
Those horrible memories began to flood his mind again.
Floating in liquid…feeling tubes and wires everywhere.
…
Sitting at a desk alongside his fellow Gen-5s.
…
Men in uniforms, soldiers and generals.
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Knowledge flooding his mind…calculating the most lethal shots…silent kills with a blade.
…
…Father…
He shook his head, trying to get the flashes playing through his mind to stop. He didn’t want to deal with them right now.
‘Besides, even if they were telling the truth, if this has anything to do with this normalization he overheard them mention, there’s nothing they can do to help me that doesn’t involve putting me out of my misery! No one can help me, there’s no saving me! I can’t change what I am. I’m a monster…I have no free will.’
Vanguard Watchtower-17, Rehab Center
11 February, 2022
Dr. Mitchell and the security team had just arrived at Watchtower-17. After a quick clearance from security and receiving directions, they found themselves at the double doors to the rehab program entrance.
6118 couldn’t help but glance at the sign. He was expecting the program to be some form a therapy center based on what the doctor said, but he still had his doubts. He wasn’t going to let his guard down, knowing that this was very likely a facade for something darker.
Dr. Mitchell was immediately greeted by Researcher Phillips at the front door waving to her with a bright smile.
“Dr. Mitchell, how nice to see you again so soon! I heard you applied to join the program's personnel, so I thought I’d wait by the entrance to greet you.”
“Nice to see you again too Christina. I’ll admit I was interested in viewing the program, but I’m mostly here to help keep a careful eye on your new patient.”
Phillips turned her attention to 6118, who was looking off to the side with an anxious expression.
“Oh, this must be the patient you were referring to back at 19.” She said as she walked up to 6118 and crouched slightly to be face to face with them.
“Hi, my name is Christina Phillips, I’m going to be one of the doctors you will be spending time with today. I can promise you that you are going to like it here!”
6118 didn’t respond with anything but a quick glance her way before looking away again.
Phillips was a bit disappointed by the lack of response, but she could also tell that the humanoid in front of her was clearly uncomfortable and distrusting of their surroundings, especially once she noticed the restraints.
Mitchell then walked up to her and whispered into her ear.
“6118 is not very trusting of personnel, A result of suspected PTSD due to a traumatic past.”
“What kind of PTSD?” Phillips questioned back, now eager to know what this individual had experienced.
“Not entirely sure, they refuse to speak about it. But personal notes and reactions lean towards experimental abuse. They’ve actually attempted self harm and suicide on a few occasions, the restraints and security are a precaution because of it. A necessity for their safety and ours. Director Moose wouldn’t allow them to be admitted without said precautions.”
Phillips' expression shifted to one of pity and sadness as she looked back at 6118. She knew that she would likely deal with victims of PTSD, especially those that were suicidal. But she wasn’t expecting to be dealing with one on the program's first day. Nevertheless, she was determined to help this poor soul in any way she could. She then knelt down to 6118 and put her hand on their shoulder, causing them to jolt back out of reflex.
“Hey, you don’t have to be afraid. I promise I’ll make you feel better. I’ll show you that there is nothing to be afraid of anymore.”
6118 barely reacted. Phillips frowned slightly at the reaction, feeling that this might take a lot more than compassion and genuine understanding to help them heal.
Then she had an idea. What better way to help someone recover from their pain than to be surrounded by those who had suffered the same kind of pain?! She then looked back to 6118 with a smile.
“In fact, I think I know how we will begin your treatment. Let’s try some good old fashioned group therapy!”
5a82, along with his escorts and the colorful doctor Phillips found themselves in one of the many counseling rooms within the center. He couldn’t help but notice some of the occupied rooms as they passed by them. He had no idea there were so many strange beings held by this organization.
The most notable so far had to be the ones sitting in the chairs beside him. Three of them were female adults and one was male.
The first had large portions of their body replaced with machinery, some of it crude in appearance, the rest being more sophisticated mechanically.
‘Did she do that to herself, or did someone do this to her?! I wouldn’t be surprised if it was the latter.’
The second was green and appeared somewhat amphibious, slick with some sort of oily substance that made him think of mucus. She was the only one not in a chair. Instead she was placed in a mobile glass cube with a pool filled with water and a circular grid for speaking through. There were also two individuals in hazmat suits standing besides her.
‘Is she toxic or can she not be outside of water? Considering the suits, I’m guessing it’s the former.
The third appeared to be elderly and had no hands, they also appeared to be blind, judging from the eyes. They were accompanied by some bizarre amalgamation of hundreds of arms.
‘…What in the name of the belt of Kepler is that thing?!’
The male had darker skin and black hair, and they were wearing a hooded jacket. He was also the only other person accompanied by a doctor, a woman. 5a82 wondered what was so unusual about him, as he looked pretty normal. He got his answer when the man noticed the doctor trying to clean her glasses, witnessing him opening a small wormhole out of thin air and pulling a wet rag from it which he gave to her to use.
‘Guess I’m not that special to these people after all, just another freak of nature. As if I already didn’t feel like a monster.’
His attention was then directed to a knock at the door. Dr. Phillips opened the door and let in a male doctor with blonde hair and glasses.
“Everyone, this is Doctor Glass. He will be joining us today to help you all to share your stories and also help us all to get to know each other better.” Phillips said with a smile, as she led Doctor Glass to the center of their circle of chairs.
“Good day everyone. Now, I’m sure all of you are still a little confused on how this will work, and what we’re hoping to accomplish. The point of this gathering is to help you get over any personal troubles you may have, and to familiarize you with some exercises to help you be more prepared for when you get what is known as VNP status. When this happens, you’ll be set free to live in the outside world in a way that benefits both yourselves and others.” Glass said, as he and Phillips took their seats.
This revelation surprised the attendees. Some seemed excited and others nervous. 5a82 however was feeling a sense of fear and confusion.
Set me free, Are they serious?! A dangerous abomination like me doesnt deserve to be free!’
He was so focused on his thoughts that he didn’t notice Phillips observing the look on his face before focusing back on the whole group and speaking up.
“Now before we begin sharing our stories, let's start by introducing each other. Who would like to go first?”
She looked around the group before she landed on the cyborg.
“How about you dear? Can you tell us your name?”
The cyborg was quiet for a second before they spoke up in a heavily mechanical voice.
“HELLO. MY BIRTH NAME IS VICTORIA, BUT SOME FRIENDS I MADE DURING MY STAY HERE CALL ME CYBIE. I ALSO GO BY 191.”
Phillips then turned to the amphibian woman. They didn’t say anything at first, until one of the hazard men spoke to her.
“It’s alright, you can answer her.”
She then looked back to Phillips and responded in a broken manner.
“Name is Aé.”
‘She must not know how to talk properly.
Then the elderly woman had her turn.
“I don’t remember my birth name, but I went by the name of Madame Rezarta in the circus. The big ball of hands next to me is Luana. You can consider her my seeing eye dog, but that doesn’t mean she’s a pet. We’re connected.”
5a82 couldn’t help but feel a sense of interest in the woman and her many armed companion.
‘So she uses that thing to help guide her due to her lack of sight? Also what is a circus? The name she gave sounded like a stage name. Was she some kind of performer?’
Next, the portal man was up.
“My name is Rainer Miller, and I’m happy to be here, I will do anything I can to help out around here.”
The woman next to him suddenly spoke to him in a worrying tone.
“You’re helping just by being here, remember?”
Rainer looked embarrassed as he rubbed his thumbs together.
“Oh, right. Thanks for reminding me.”
‘He’s like a nervous child who wants to make his mother proud…not that I would know what that feels like.’
Finally…it was his turn.
5a82 didn’t speak up and remained quiet for what felt like an eternity. He was still skeptical of this whole thing. He still couldn’t help wondering what they were up to and if they were only trying to lull him into a false sense of security.
“I’m sorry for my acquaintance's behavior, he has some trust issues and is not much for talking.”
The familiar female doctor that he now came to know as Dr. Mitchell stated, as she placed a hand on his shoulder while looking towards Phillips and Glass.
Phillips then got up from her seat and came closer to 5a82 before kneeling to look him in the eyes.
“You don’t have to be scared. Like I said, I’m here to help and want to help you feel better. We’re all friends here. Go on, you can tell us your name.”
He remained silent for a bit, as he thought it over.
‘I guess I don’t really have much of a choice in the matter…Oh who am I kidding I never have a choice!”
…
“…5a82.”
Phillips at first just smiled and giggled a little before she spoke up again.
“No sweetie, I mean your name. The name you were born with.”
“…I…I just did.”
Phillips' smile then slowly shifted to a frown and she took on a worried expression.
“Are you sure you don’t remember having any other names?”
“NO!”
Phillips was startled by the hostile reaction, not expecting them to lash out like that. If she wasn’t already feeling pity for the alien, now she was definitely concerned for them.
5a82 suddenly regretted snapping at the doctor, especially when he noticed the concerned and frightened look in her eyes. This caused him to think maybe he was a bit too harsh on her.
‘Maybe she doesn’t know about me, or is just a new employee? Perhaps this is the first time she’s seen or heard about me. I mean it isn’t so unlikely that not everyone that works for these people knows about me. It’s likely they have so many others here that I’m just a random face in the crowd. I guess if I’m going to be attending more time at this center, I should at least try to be more cooperative with her, especially if she’s really telling the truth.’
5a82 then showed a regretful facial expression while looking down at the floor.
“S-sorry.”
Phillips' mood shifted after hearing them say those words, making her feel more confident in their possible progress.
Mitchell was also comforted by this response, feeling that maybe this idea might work after all.
“Don’t worry about it sweetie, I was a little concerned that's all.”
She then walked back to her seat and sat down next to Glass. Glass got out a clipboard and a pen as he began writing something down before looking back to the group.
“Okay, now that we’ve all gotten around to introducing one another, how about we tell a little something about ourselves? After that, I would also like you to tell us your story and how the Foundation found you.”
Hearing this made 5a82 concerned, thinking that maybe he was right after all as he started to develop a distrustful expression once again.
‘Was this all just a ploy to get me to finally tell them my past?! Why can’t they just understand already that knowing what I really am won’t make much of a difference?!’
Glass then looked over to the cyborg calling herself Cybie.
“Ms. Victoria, since you were the first to introduce yourself, why don’t you go first.”
Cybie shuffled for a bit before she straightened up and began to speak.
“WELL, AS YOU CAN SEE, MOST OF MY BODY WAS REPLACED BY MACHINERY. I CAN INTERACT WITH CERTAIN DEVICES AND I HAVE TO CONSTANTLY RECHARGE MYSELF IN ORDER TO FUNCTION OR I SHUT DOWN. I HAVE HAD THESE MECHANICAL AUGMENTATIONS AND HAVE BEEN WITH THE PEOPLE HERE SINCE I WAS A YOUNG CHILD. ONE DAY I FOUND MYSELF TAKEN IN BY A DOCTOR WHO WORKED FOR…I THINK IT WAS SOME SORT OF MILITARY COMPANY? EVENTUALLY THE FOUNDATION FOUND ME AFTER RAIDING HIS LAB AND TOOK ME IN. I DON’T REALLY REMEMBER MY FAMILY OR MY PARENTS, BUT THE PEOPLE WHO WORK HERE ARE THE CLOSEST THING TO A FAMILY I HAVE. THEY TOOK CARE OF ME, HELPED REPAIR MY MODIFICATIONS WHENEVER THEY HAVE PROBLEMS, AND THEY EVEN GAVE ME UPGRADES AND BETTER REPLACEMENTS AS I GOT OLDER. IN FACT ORIGINALLY I COULDN’T TALK UNTIL THEY GAVE ME A SPEECH UNIT A FEW YEARS AGO.”
5a82 was absolutely shocked by what he had heard from the cyborg, making his mind swirl with thoughts and questions.
‘By the stars! I knew someone had to have been responsible for her being part machine, but a military company? And she’s been that way since she was a child?! What kind of sick psycho would turn a child into a half machine abomination?! Were they planning to use her as a weapon?!…Wait, is she just like me? Could she have been made to do horrible things against her will?!’
Then he realized something else that she had said.
‘They took care of her? Even giving her upgrades to make it easier for her to live? Is she really so grateful that she considers the people keeping her here family? Have I…have I been wrong about these scientists?’
After hearing more from Cybie about her experiences living in the Foundation, Dr. Glass moved on to the amphibian woman named Aé. The hazmat men explained what she could do. Apparently the mucus she was covered in is corrosive, she can also regurgitate bodily waste as a means of defense or hunting prey.
‘So she’s a predator.’
Then one of the hazard men said they’d like her to tell them the same thing she told the two men, mentioning something about “before a box”. She seemed to understand as she then turned to the group and talked, accompanied with swift and demonstrative arm and hand movements.
“Aé not always like Aé. Aé once have skin like man, like people. Then big tall man, bigger than Aé. Stick needle here, needle cold, needle bring pain. Red, lot of red from mouth. Skin now like this. Was scared, was hungry. Aé ate man, than ran ran ran. Aé get lost, hide in big water, water with trees and many bugs. Docktys find Aé, bring here. Help clean Aé when dirty. Help teach Aé be better at talking. Gave Aé food, water, brush, home.”
Despite the broken english and poor speaking skills, 5a82 understood what Aé was saying, and once again his thoughts began racing.
‘She means she was once a normal person, then someone turned her into this?! The needle she mentioned, there’s no doubt she’s talking about a syringe. It must have been filled with some sort of mutation serum. Also did I hear that one part right? She ate whoever did this to her?! Maybe they deserved it, but that is just an unpleasant thought! Hold up, I just realized she too is a victim of cruel experiments! She also said the people here helped her too! Perhaps I really have been wrong about my predicament. Maybe these people aren’t so bad after all.’
Dr. Mitchell noticed how 5a82 seemed to be deep in thought. She hoped they might be starting to let go of their distrust.
“Okay Madame Rezarta, how about you tell us what you and Luana can do?” Phillips said to Rezarta.
“Well as I stated, I’m blind and Luana serves as my eyes, as well as my hands. Whatever she feels, so do I. This lets me develop a mental image of my surroundings. This unfortunately also means that whatever pain Luana feels, I feel it too.”
“I see, very interesting. How did you meet your companion, and how did you both come into the Foundation’s care?” Doctor Glass asked as he continued taking notes.
“Luana’s actually been with me since birth. We’ve always been together. As for where Luana came from, no idea. Not even she knows.”
Luana followed this by shrugging all her arms.
“As for how it all started, when I was a child, Luana and I were kidnapped, taken from our home in the middle of the night by the Herman Fuller Circus. They took us and forced us into their freakshow, before making me a ‘palm reader’ when I got older. Luana would feel peoples faces and I would make deductions based on their facial features. If ever made an error in any way, I would either be denied dinner or whipped, and Luana would feel the pain too. I have visible scars on my body to prove it. One night Luana had enough and killed the guard keeping us in our tent, without my knowledge of course, and in a panic we fled for our lives. The Foundation found us after I tried to get a room at a hotel and Luana acted out of impatience. Honestly, living with the Foundation was much better than being with those assholes in the circus.”
Luana again followed up with her comment, this time replying by holding the middle finger in every hand. This drew giggles from a few of those listening.
The more 5a82 heard, the more cracks formed in the wall that was his doubt and distrust.
‘They were kidnapped as a child, abused, and forced to be performers?! How can someone just rip an innocent child away from their family and treat them as a tool for profit in show business?! A disabled individual no less! Nobody should be used for a person’s own personal gain!…Like I was. These individuals suffered similar torments as me, and these people helped them…maybe they really do want to help me. But…what could they do to help me? A monster like me?’
“You see it now right? This place can provide the help you need to get over your trauma. If you just share with us, we can help you let go of the past.” Dr. Mitchell whispered to him, as she noticed him coming more to a realization about his caretakers and the program.
“Now then, I believe it’s your turn Mr. Miller. Care to tell us what you can do?” Dr. Glass asked as his and Phillips’ attention turned to him.
“Well, I can create portals at will, and then I can reach into them and pull out anything that I desire. I’ve used it on numerous occasions in the past for the Foundation whenever they needed me to assist in something important.”
“So you’ve helped them out a lot?”
“Oh yes, a lot. I once was even allowed to accompany a MTF on a mission. It was then I learned I could stop dangerous things by pulling out their opposite, which cancels them out. In fact it’s thanks to the Foundation that I’ve perfecting my abilities.”
“Really? That’s great to hear!” Philips said in genuine delight.
“Yeah, I didn’t really fully understand my abilities and how they worked, but thanks to the Foundations and their tests, I now understand them better than I did before. I’m grateful to the Foundation and I wish to continue helping them, even if you Vanguard guys are replacing them in a sense.”
The female scientist next to him suddenly developed a saddened expression as she looked at Rainer with concern. She then spoke to him.
“Rainer, could you please cover your ears for a moment? There’s something I’d like to say to them that I’d rather you not hear.”
“Oh, uh okay.”
He proceeds to cover his ears and the scientist turned her attention back to the group with a more stoic expression.
“I’d just like to bring up something important. I’m Dr. Jules Yesenia, and I’ve been a scheduled regular therapist for Rainer. I’d also like to note that while these tests did help him learn more about his abilities, some of them were not done ethically or mainly for the purpose of studying his abilities. The doctor in charge of these tests, Dr. Edwards, personally used these tests as a means of causing cruel punishment to Rainer. This was all out of a desire for vengeance for an incident 4051 intentionally caused that resulted in his brother Dr. Roswell being crippled. Luckily after re-evaluations and some digging, Edwards was punished for his actions, and once Vanguard was formed, he was fired. Unfortunately Edwards’ actions and cruelty, as well as unplanned carelessness on our part led to Rainer developing what is essentially Stockholm syndrome, and I hoped this program would help break him of this condition.”
She stopped to take a deep breath before continuing.
“Another thing I want to state. Rainer also used his abilities to save lives, and was unfairly punished for it because of the old ways of the Foundation. He had even been using his abilities to help and save others before the Foundation became aware of him. If you truly wish to help him in a way that’ll get him VNP status, I want it to be so that his powers can be used to save lives, and to prove those who thought him too dangerous were wrong! Also please, please let him be with his family again. It’s the least I can do to make up for not doing anything to save him from what happened to him in the past.
She then tapped Rainer’s shoulder to let him know it was okay to stop covering his ears now.
At that moment, the last remnants of doubt and distrust which 5a82 had held for so long finally crumbled as he thought over everything he just heard, all the while coming to a final realization.
‘…They punished his tormentor, and they feel guilty over their mistake? They even helped him become stronger, even letting him help them whenever they needed him?! She even wants him to be free as a way of saying sorry for not helping him when he truly needed it before?!’
…
…
…
‘…I was wrong…they really do want to help me…and I practically spat in their faces, thinking they were no different than those back home.’
Then a specific memory popped into his head.
A memory about a book, a guard…and a gun.
…a gunshot.
His eyes began to burn, as he felt them building up with tears.
‘…what have I done?’
5a82 let his head drop, feeling as tears began to drip from his eyes down his face. He then closed his fingers tightly into a fist, and clenched his teeth tightly into a snarl, feeling his bones and teeth groan under the pressure.
‘…I really am a monster…I don’t deserve their kindness…I don’t deserve their help!’
“Alrighty then, that just leaves us with…” Phillips began to say but quickly developed a look of worry when she noticed 5a82’s body language and expression.
Doctors Glass and Mitchell, along with everyone else soon focused their attention on him as well.
“5a82?” Dr. Mitchell said in a concerned tone.
He didn’t respond.
“Honey, are you alright?” Phillips asked with genuine worry.
He still didn’t respond.
“5a82, if something has you worried or frightened, don’t be afraid to-“ Dr. Glass began to speak, before he was suddenly cut off.
“Let me out…”
5a82 suddenly spoke up.
“What?” Dr. Glass responded with confusion.
5a82 was silent for a moment before responding.
“Let me out…let me out! LET ME OUT!!”
5a82 then began to aggressively push and thrash about in the wheelchair, causing the guard behind him to fall over.
The whole room reacted to his unexpected violent outburst. Dr. Mitchell and her team of guards backed away, the guards grasping their weapons in caution. Phillips was frightened and filled with absolute concern over his health. The other attendants backed up in shock, with Aé and Luana bracing to defend themselves, seeing the outburst as an act of aggression.
“LET ME OUT, LET ME OUT OF THIS CHAIR NOW!”
He continued to scream as he thrashed and bucked, all the while pulling at his restraints with aggressive force.
“Stop, calm down! 5a82 stop this!” Mitchell called out, now fearing that their mental state might be beyond repair.
“I SAID LET ME OUT OF HERE! LET ME OUT OF THIS THING NOW!!”
One of the guards began to reach for a tranquillizing sedative.
“That’s it, I’m pulling the plug on this. This plan is a failure!”
As he began to approach 5a82 with the sedative, Phillips noticed two things. The look of pain and regret in their eyes, and the tears on their face.
“NO WAIT!” She shouted. This guard stopped and Phillips continued to watch 5a82 struggle for a few more seconds.
Then he shouted again.
“PLEASE!!”
But not with anger, but with pleading sadness.
His struggling slowly lessened, before finally stopping. He then proceeded to sniffle and take ragged breaths. He then looked up to Phillips, his expression now broken and soaked in tears as he continued to quietly cry.
“Please…let me go. Let me go please!”
Seeing this made Phillips realize he wasn’t being aggressive, he was overloading with emotions. She could see their face was full of sadness, pain, guilt, regret, and sorrow.
At that moment, she knew what had to be done.
“Unlock his restraints.”
This shocked the other attendees. They did not like the idea.
“Doctor, you can’t be-“ One of the guards began to protest.
“DO IT!”
Only to be cut off as Phillips angrily demanded.
The guard then looked at Dr. Mitchell for assistance.
Mitchell noticed the pleading look in Phillips eyes, and how she nodded at her. She realized Phillips knew what she was doing before looking back at the guard.
“Do what she says. Now.”
After a moment, the guard approached 5a82 and released them from their restraints.
The moment he was freed, he bolted out of the chair and collapsed onto his hands and knees, shaking as he continued to sob softly. After a few moments he began speaking.
“…I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”
Phillips slowly walked up to 5a82. She exuded a caring and motherly demeanor.
“Hey, it’s okay. You were just overwhelmed, that's all. I know hearing about how people went through rough times can be quite emotional but—“
“No…not that.”
Dr. Glass then stood up and walked over to stand next to Phillips.
“Why are you apologizing then? It’s okay to tell us.”
“…For doubting you.”
He then lifted his head and turned towards Mitchell and the guards.
“For doubting all of you!”
He then diverted his eyes down the ground once again.
“All the time I’ve spent here, being housed in that room as you came around for the occasional tests, checkups and interviews…I thought you were just a bunch of liars and manipulators. Thinking that you were pretending to care about me and having what’s best for me as your intentions. Me believing those were just facades to cover your true selfish intentions that only benefited yourselves. Seeing me as nothing more than a tool…a lab rat…or even a means to an end. No different than the kind of people I had to deal with most of my life back home.”
Hearing his words drew concern, pity, and morbid curiosity from everyone in the room.
“All those times you’ve intervened in my attempts at ending my life, safety proofing my room and even my own limbs, I thought you were only keeping me alive so you could continue to exploit me. But then you brought me here, and I now see that I was wrong. You were trying to protect me, genuinely trying to help me. But my paranoia and trauma clouded my judgement, and it not only made things difficult for you, but it also got others hurt…or worse.”
This comment caused Mitchell to remember the incident at site-66 and Sgt. Brinley.
5a82 then tightened his fist as he began to visibly shake.
“But you don’t understand…You can’t help me, I don’t deserve your help. I’m nothing more than a monster that deserves to be put down.”
Hearing that hit Phillips hard, horrified to hear him say that.
“That’s not true-“
“YES IT IS! I’M A KILLING MACHINE LITERALLY BRED FOR WAR!”
Everyone in the room, especially Mitchell and Phillips, were taken aback and shocked by what 5a82 just stated.
“…I wasn’t lying when I said 5a82 was my name. Because it’s my designation, my instance code! I wasn’t born, I was made! I’m a categorized fifth generation synthetic being, one clone out of hundreds! Created for the purpose of being used by the government powers of the empire that rules my home planet, Kepler.”
Both Mitchell and Phillips were absolutely shocked by this revelation. Their horror grew as he continued to reveal his story.
“I grew up being examined by doctors and scientists, taking classes with other synthetics on what we all were supposed to know and what our ‘benefactors’ would have planned for us if we scored highly positive results. I was a special case, a special variant of an older generation. Raised by the very man I was cloned from. Eventually I gained the interest of some of the military higher ups of our government. That’s when the hell that is my life truly began.”
“…I was right wasn’t I?” Asked Mitchell, garnering everyone’s attention and making 5a82 look up towards her.
“Your highly developed immune system, your ability to use a firearm…They tried to use you as a weapon, didn’t they?”
Everyone then looked back to 5a82 waiting for him to answer. His response was hesitant
“…It started with combat training, something I had to practice daily as I grew up. Then it was weapons training. How to shoot a gun, the mechanisms, how to wield a knife. At first I thought it was mainly for self defense. But then once I reached maturity, they started pumping my mind with knowledge and techniques on how to be as lethal and effective at killing as possible. After that they started assigning me classified missions. Denying a mission was never an option. I had no free will, I had no choice. Something I didn’t realize until years later. Destroying rebel forces, stealing data or supplies from opposing foreign offworld powers, sabotage, and disposing of incriminating evidence. But if there was one type of mission I was assigned the most…it was assassinations.”
5a82 tightened his fists even more, blood beginning to drip from his fingers.
“Politicians, counter revolutionaries, government officials both rivals and our own, wealthy businessmen, popular election runner ups, military leaders, cultural heroes, the occasional traitors…even women and children. I was forced to slaughter entire families and to help commit genocide of other worlds. The blood of literally thousands is on my hands. I can’t even begin to count the number of sleepless nights I’ve had. Overwhelmed with the thoughts, wishing to undo all I’ve done. And the nightmares…the damned awful nightmares!”
Phillips put her hands over her mouth as tears began to pour down her face. Horrified by what she was hearing. Many of the others in the room shared similar expressions.
“Then the next thing I knew, they started using me for experiments! Turning me into some kind of super soldier. They altered my immune system, making me able to adapt and neutralize practically any pathogen and virus from my body. They did this to both make me an even more effective killer, and to test their biological weapons. Then they would use those same weapons to massacre thousands of innocent people on other planets. The guilt, the stress, the horrors I’ve experienced. It had an effect on my mind, my mental state. They knew I was becoming unstable and rebellious, so one day they took me by surprise and knocked me out. The next thing I knew, I was in a glass tube floating in fluid, connected to hundreds of tubes and wires. Forcefully made a prisoner of their continuous experiments. I was a lab rat in a cage!”
Phillips couldn’t take much more as she collapsed to her knees and she continued to silently weep. Mitchell wasn’t doing so well either, absolutely horrified not only by the revelation that her theory was correct, but that it was much worse than she expected.
Then suddenly to their surprise and dread, 5a82 emitted a chilling chuckle, one that sounded as if he was holding on to sanity by a thread.
“So do you understand now? There’s nothing you can do to help me that doesn’t involve spilling my blood. My very existence has only led to death and destruction. I only exist to be a tool of war, to be violently used by others for their own personal gain. Don’t you see? I was born to be a weapon! I WAS BORN TO KILL!”
He finished his rant by punching the floor with brute strength, enough to cause cracks and causing blood to flow from his knuckles. He then stood up on his knees as he continued to laugh insanely while tears continued to flow.
“DON’T YOU GET IT?! I’M A MONSTER AND I’LL ALWAYS BE A MONSTER! I CAN’T CHANGE WHAT I AM, I CAN’T BE ANYTHING ELSE! I HAVE NO CHOICE, I HAVE NO FREE WILL! I’M A KILLER, I’M A WEAPON, I’M A GUN!…I’M DEATH ITSELF!!!”
He proceeded to cackle maniacally as he stared into the ceiling with a mad look on his face, and hopelessness in his eyes.
…warm…
Only to suddenly stop as he began to feel warmth around his upper torso. Looking down he found Phillips with her arms around his chest and her head on his shoulder. She was embracing him.
Though he couldn’t see her face, he could feel the tears dripping onto his shoulder.
“You’re wrong…YOU'RE WRONG! YOU’RE NOT A MONSTER, YOU’RE NOT A KILLER, AND YOU’RE CERTAINLY NOT A WEAPON!”
She embraced him tighter.
“You don’t exist only to kill! If you did then you wouldn’t feel regret and remorse for all the horrible things that you were made to do against your will! You deeply regret all the crimes that the horrible government of your homeworld made you do. That shows you have a heart and that you truly don't want to hurt people! Also, so what if you’re a synthetic being?! Just because you weren’t born a natural way doesn’t mean you’re not an individual capable of making their own choices. That doesn’t mean you have no free will!”
Mitchell couldn’t help but feel a sense of gratitude to Phillips for being so bold and honest. Hearing her say such caring and thoughtful words was incredibly moving.
“You may have been given these skills and abilities for evil, but that doesn't mean they can’t be used for good! You can use your powers to save people, to help those who can’t defend themselves, to protect those from suffering the same kind of pain that you have been through for so long! You can become something better than what you were. You can be someone who saves lives and helps make a better future for everyone! You can be a hero!”
Hearing this, 5a82 couldn’t help but look towards Rainer, who looked back with a comforting smile and nodded his head.
“You do have a choice. You can change what you are, and you can be anything you want to be! There’s a quote from one of my favorite childhood movies, ‘you don’t have to be a gun! You are what you choose to be!’ It’s your decision!”
Dr. Glass was genuinely impressed at Phillips‘ handling of the situation. She had shown bravery, empathy and compassion. He even considered offering her a position in Vanguard’s psychology department.
”So I don’t care what you think, I don’t care if you were born in a lab, I don’t care if you were trained to be a remorseless killer, I don’t care if you spilled innocent blood, I don’t care if you think you’re irredeemable, I don’t even care if you believe you have no soul! YOU DO DESERVE TO LIVE!”
For what felt like an eternity, the room was quiet. No one moved and no one made a sound.
Eventually, something began to become audible.
5a82, slowly and softly began to chuckle.
This reaction was not what everyone was expecting, and it made them more than a little uncomfortable.
5a82’s chuckling slowly build up in volume and intensity, eventually evolving into full blown chaotic laughter.
Phillips was wondering if she had failed and only made things worse.
Eventually however, they noticed his laughter starting to change, sounding more empty. Then slowly, his laughter shifted into loud weeping. He then embraced Phillips as he proceeded to experience an immense emotional release, tears overflowing and staining both Phillips shoulder and his shirt.
“Shh, it’s okay, let it all out. I’m here for you.” Phillips said, once again in that comforting motherly tone as she closed her eyes and patted 5a82’s back.
They both then noticed another pair of arms wrap around them. Phillips opened her eyes to see Mitchell had joined her in comforting him.
“We all are. Everything’s going to be okay.”
5a82’s loud crying eventually settles into softer whimpers and sniffles. Hey let his pain and emotions flow until he was exhausted and could no longer cry. The room was silent again…until a whisper was uttered.
“Please…help me.”
Both doctors embraced him tighter as they both responded to him.
“We will.”
April, 21, 2022 (Earth time)
I’m a monster, I can never be anything else…I have no choice…No free will..
The man that I was two months ago believed that with all of his being.
Now though, I see now that I was a fool for believing it.
I won’t lie. My past still haunts me. I can never forget all the horrible things I did when I was locked in the chains of the corrupt tyrants of my homeworld’s government.
All the people I’ve hurt, even killed. I can never forget their faces and can never truly forgive myself for spilling their blood.
But now I know I don’t have to let it hold me down. I don’t have to end my own life as penance. Also while I still do have the occasional nightmares, they don’t bother me as much as they used to. I now see my past doesn’t define who I am, I can be who I choose to be, and nobody can tell me otherwise.
Everyone deserves a second chance, even me.
I owe it all to the people of this planet, the humans of Earth. I owe it to Vanguard and the people who kept me alive since I crashed here.
Ever since Dr. Mitchell got permission to admit me to Ms. Phillips new rehab center, I have been getting the help and care needed to recover from the scars of my past. It definitely has helped me a lot, and I know now that I can trust these people with my safety. I now have so many supportive people around me, so I know I am in good hands.
Dr. Phillips has been mentoring me and helping me deal with my trauma by developing treatments and activities that help me get my mind off of them. She’s also been working hard to help me understand everything I need to know about the outside world of this planet, providing me the knowledge and social skills needed for when they finally believe I’m ready to be granted status as a VNP.
Dr. Mitchell also stops every once in a while to check up on me and my progress, as well as to occasionally join in discussing more about my past now that I no longer feel the need to keep it to myself. She once told me that her superior was proud to see the program was working, and that I’m making excellent progress. She even told me they were considering stopping by to see for themselves and to meet me in person.
Mitchell and Phillips have done so much for me, I am truly lucky to have them around. If it weren’t for the both of them, I probably would’ve spilled my own blood by now. They saved my life, and I’m grateful.
With how well I’ve been doing in my progress, I’ve been allowed more freedom to explore the center. I’m interacting with and getting to know some of the other residents. It amazes me how there are so many colorful characters on this planet. I even made a friend, another stranded offworlder just like me.
I also regularly interact with Cybie, Aé, Rezarta and Rainer since we have group sessions together. Our traumatic backgrounds are so similar that we work well together in our therapy. They’re all making good progress too.
Cybie recently gained the interest of a group of cyborgs, who are willing to take her under their wing and improve her in ways that would allow her to live a normal life.
Aé’s language skills are really improving, and she’s starting to remember small bits of her old life.
Recently, Vanguard tracked down and contacted Rezarta’s brothers. I can’t even tell you how touching it was to see her hug them with tears in her eyes. Though it was humorous seeing Luana nearly suffocate them in her many arms.
Rainer has started to become more independent, and has been using his abilities to help out everyone at the center. He was also able to see his mother again. Their emotional reunion lasted for what seemed like hours.
As for me, aside from being allowed to free roam the center, they decided I was stable enough to remove the gloves and socks strapped to me. It felt nice to feel the air flow between my fingers and toes again.
Recently I was allowed to begin journaling again, hence these entries. Mitchell had even suggested I write a book about my story. It seemed like an interesting idea, so I might consider it.
We also have been talking recently about the idea of giving me a new name. 5a82 would just serve as a reminder of the life I’ve now chosen to leave behind.
Giving myself a new name isn’t going to be easy, as I’m not that creative.
But maybe one day…perhaps I’ll find the perfect name for the new me.
5a82 closed the journal and placed it by his side.
He let out a sigh as he laid back on the grassy lawn, taking a moment to relax and enjoy the warm spring breeze.
“I almost forgot what fresh air felt like.’
He felt spending time in the rehab center’s new garden was a perfect place to start working on his new journal. Aside from him, many of the other patients are spending time in the garden, enjoying interacting with one another.
He watched as a young woman with eyes made of stars was having a conversation with another wearing a blindfold. He also noticed a pink haired woman riding atop a pink and blue furred four legged creature as it playfully chases around a pair of what he can only describe as eyeballs on wheels. Then he saw as a suited man with a fish head was having a heated discussion with some sort of humanoid with cephalopod characteristics and tentacles, vaguely hearing the latter state something about “crazy people stop bothering him” and the former stating that they “just want to feel special like their siblings”.
“So many strange faces, all so different. Yet at the same time so similar.”
Seeing so many of these abnormal souls interacting, and being out in the open for the first time in who knows how long gave him comfort, knowing they were all getting the help they needed just like him.
This made him recollect much of what he’d gone through to get to this point. How he’d come so far and was now on the road to a better life.
“To think, I was brought into this world as a tool of oppression for corrupt political powers. Now I’m not far from starting a new life on a planet I really don’t belong on.”
He then started to drift into thoughts about his homeworld.
“But there are still those back home. Those still suffering at the hands of those who abuse their power for their gain. The citizens of Kepler, and my fellow synthetics…The man I once considered my father, that is if he is even still alive.”
He had no doubt that with everything that had happened to him, he could never go back there. Not that he would want to. It no longer felt like home anymore after all the horror he went through there. Besides, he’s now aware that this planet doesn’t yet possess the technology for interstellar travel.
“But maybe, maybe with the help of the people of this world…perhaps one day when such technology is possible for them, I can return there and liberate it from the corruption keeping it enslaved. To ensure no one else born on that world can suffer the same as me!”
He then remembered what Phillips had once said.
“You may have been given these skills and abilities for evil, but that doesn't mean they can’t be used for good! You can use your powers to save people, to help those who can’t defend themselves, to protect those from suffering the same kind of pain that you have been through for so long! You can become something better than what you were. You can be someone who saves lives and helps make a better future for everyone! You can be a hero!”
Perhaps when he’s ready, he’ll go back and do just that. Be the hero that his homeworld needs.
But until then…
He still has some recovering to do, while creating a new life in this new home, on a new world.
