"Another miserable day," Sander muttered to himself, walking down the street to a KFC nearby to get some food.
"My powers, so potent. My desire, so sublime. How dirty is my coat end, I want some respect, big-time," he continued musing to himself. The streets of New York was not the place best-suited for whining about the lack of respect, food or money, but this was exactly what Sander did. He knew nothing of his previous life before being injected, neither a week or so after it, but he knew this was not the way he used to live.
What effectively set him in a poetic mood, was a homeless man playing a song, using the accordion as his choice of trade. The song's lyrics had very clear rhymes, with an ABAB pattern. Sander had had the thoughts of destruction and killing in his minds ever since he left that place where that scientist did those tests on him. At some point during being there, something in his brain clicked. He wasn't exactly the nicest person before, but he was, at times, a twisted psychopath now. His thoughts were filled to the brim with greed, lust and wrath.
Walking down the grey city-block, he noticed a woman with a red jacket. There was nothing really that different about her, but for some reason he noticed her immediately, and his attention was only able to concentrate on her.
"Hmm, what could this little pumpkin peach be doing here?" he asked quietly, snickering.
As the snicker still remained on his face, he walked fast forward. He was about to cross the road, when he saw something that he was joyous about.
"That bastard scientist!" Sander put forward his hand, pointing at the man, but he didn't yell. He talked in an angry, but quiet voice, some of the words coming out through his teeth.
"What should I do? Should I stick a trash can up his boozy-woozy?" Sander asked himself, dancing on the street in jubilation.
"I'll chase him!"
This was the decision he finally settled on, which he did in a matter of seconds. It was obvious to chase him, as he wasn't about to attack him here. He wasn't yet prepared for combat, especially against cops who could use a gun. Bullets. That was what he was afraid of, and what was one of the only things now.
"Well, here we go, Mr. Scientist," Sander said, starting to follow him. "Wait," he said. "That guy never told me his name."
Sander had never gotten any information about the scientist's name, his real home, or his loved ones.
"That was certainly a smart move on his part. I wouldn't have given out any of my information if I would try to create Gods too, like he liked to call us."
Gods? Are we really Gods, or just super-powered soldiers? Sander had never believed in God, and was leaning towards the belief that there isn't a higher being. Still, he knew that many religions had Gods who weren't omnipotent. Was Sander really omnipotent? Not really. The caliber of some other Gods, for example the Greek ones, was something he did reach, though.
The thought amused him, as he ran into an alleyway. He immediately lifted himself onto the roof of the building closest to him. Upon arrival, he pressured air so tightly together, that a thick cloud appeared near the edge of the building. As he ran towards it, he made a fateful jump right at the edge, only to hear the sounds of his feet falling onto the platform a second later. He lay down, and smiled widely down upon the little people. They are like insects, little worms, who I could crush, Sander thought. He pulled up his hand, and pushed his two fingers together, leaving a human behind. He laughed uproariously when he opened his hands, and there were small spots of red over him. The figure himself looked thinner, pressed together from where Sander had pushed him.
"Man, this thing exhausts me quickly," he said, laying down on his back, wiping his forehead. Upon a quick recovery, he turned back, his eyes darting around to search for the scientist. The scientist was heading for Ellis Island.
"What there, the museum?" Sander thought, following the man surely. When the man reached Ellis Island, Sander's suspicions started realizing themselves. The man walked around the museum, disappearing behind the corner. Sander found a lonely place, and quickly lowered himself just on top of the glimmering water. He grabbed the edge, and pulled himself up, satisfied that no one had appeared.
He ran to where the scientist had gone, and saw a back door. A small one, it was, Sander barely being able to enter without hitting his head on it. Upon entering, the interior of the building was unexpected. The walls seemed old, and there was a stuffy smell. The whole place looked decrepit, though there was not much to be seen. An ablated, gray staircase was the only thing in the extremely short corridor, except for the white and cracked daub walls.
As Sander walked slowly, trying to soften his steps, he heard someone talking.
"Time to wake up, time to get up. No, no. Wake up sounds better. Get up sounds forced. Hurtful. Never hurt my children, never."
Never hurt? His children? Sander recognized the voice all too well.
If I showed up, hands tied between my back, would he not hurt me, too? Am I really his child anymore? Probably not. Either way, I wonder who are these children he speaks of.
After a low hiss, Sander heard steps.
Oh, right, right. He surely has tried to make more of those...freaks since I got away. I wonder how many of them are there? 5? 10? No, many of them died, Sander thought. They couldn't have all survived. 5 is probable, 10 is impossible.
"Why am I calling them freaks? I'm in the same league as them. I wonder if they're friendly, and what powers they have, oh yes I am. Oh-so curious!"
As he levitated closer, to avoid any noise, he peeked in from behind the corner. He saw the scientist talking with three people, one of them wearing a soldier uniform of some sort, and a mask with tinted goggles, which he found very odd and mildly disturbing. And then there were the blue jumpsuits, which were hanged on hangers in a corner, and on one of the so-called 'test subjects' that were there.
Hmm, three of them. Only three. And they look dazed. And those pods...I wonder if they just woke up. Either way, it's not much of a risk to do it. They all seem like they'd need a cup of coffee.
As soon as Sander peeked in, he raised the man. He knew he didn't raise his body, but rather manipulated the air around him to lift him. The man screamed "What is this?!" in a loud voice, and tried to move, as could be seen from his head, but his body was locked in place. Sander walked in the room, meeting the surprised faces of the dazed subjects, one of them on the floor, on his knees and hands. He quickly took a brief glance at them, and looked back at the scientist. He grinned as the scientist's body seemed to get thinner and thinner. He saw his blood and organs popping out from where his skin had been torn open, and from his eyes, mouth, nose and ears. Now he was extremely disgusted by the scene, and he looked away. He knew he had to concentrate on it to be able to continue doing it, but he didn't want to. Immediately, he let go of the scientist, and tried to get the mental image out of his head.
Peeking back, he noticed that the man was dead. Now there was a bloody mess on the floor, almost indistinguishable from a normal person.
"Eh, gross" Sander said, looking back at the subjects. "Uhh, hey?"
"My powers, so potent. My desire, so sublime. How dirty is my coat end, I want some respect, big-time," he continued musing to himself. The streets of New York was not the place best-suited for whining about the lack of respect, food or money, but this was exactly what Sander did. He knew nothing of his previous life before being injected, neither a week or so after it, but he knew this was not the way he used to live.
What effectively set him in a poetic mood, was a homeless man playing a song, using the accordion as his choice of trade. The song's lyrics had very clear rhymes, with an ABAB pattern. Sander had had the thoughts of destruction and killing in his minds ever since he left that place where that scientist did those tests on him. At some point during being there, something in his brain clicked. He wasn't exactly the nicest person before, but he was, at times, a twisted psychopath now. His thoughts were filled to the brim with greed, lust and wrath.
Walking down the grey city-block, he noticed a woman with a red jacket. There was nothing really that different about her, but for some reason he noticed her immediately, and his attention was only able to concentrate on her.
"Hmm, what could this little pumpkin peach be doing here?" he asked quietly, snickering.
As the snicker still remained on his face, he walked fast forward. He was about to cross the road, when he saw something that he was joyous about.
"That bastard scientist!" Sander put forward his hand, pointing at the man, but he didn't yell. He talked in an angry, but quiet voice, some of the words coming out through his teeth.
"What should I do? Should I stick a trash can up his boozy-woozy?" Sander asked himself, dancing on the street in jubilation.
"I'll chase him!"
This was the decision he finally settled on, which he did in a matter of seconds. It was obvious to chase him, as he wasn't about to attack him here. He wasn't yet prepared for combat, especially against cops who could use a gun. Bullets. That was what he was afraid of, and what was one of the only things now.
"Well, here we go, Mr. Scientist," Sander said, starting to follow him. "Wait," he said. "That guy never told me his name."
Sander had never gotten any information about the scientist's name, his real home, or his loved ones.
"That was certainly a smart move on his part. I wouldn't have given out any of my information if I would try to create Gods too, like he liked to call us."
Gods? Are we really Gods, or just super-powered soldiers? Sander had never believed in God, and was leaning towards the belief that there isn't a higher being. Still, he knew that many religions had Gods who weren't omnipotent. Was Sander really omnipotent? Not really. The caliber of some other Gods, for example the Greek ones, was something he did reach, though.
The thought amused him, as he ran into an alleyway. He immediately lifted himself onto the roof of the building closest to him. Upon arrival, he pressured air so tightly together, that a thick cloud appeared near the edge of the building. As he ran towards it, he made a fateful jump right at the edge, only to hear the sounds of his feet falling onto the platform a second later. He lay down, and smiled widely down upon the little people. They are like insects, little worms, who I could crush, Sander thought. He pulled up his hand, and pushed his two fingers together, leaving a human behind. He laughed uproariously when he opened his hands, and there were small spots of red over him. The figure himself looked thinner, pressed together from where Sander had pushed him.
"Man, this thing exhausts me quickly," he said, laying down on his back, wiping his forehead. Upon a quick recovery, he turned back, his eyes darting around to search for the scientist. The scientist was heading for Ellis Island.
"What there, the museum?" Sander thought, following the man surely. When the man reached Ellis Island, Sander's suspicions started realizing themselves. The man walked around the museum, disappearing behind the corner. Sander found a lonely place, and quickly lowered himself just on top of the glimmering water. He grabbed the edge, and pulled himself up, satisfied that no one had appeared.
He ran to where the scientist had gone, and saw a back door. A small one, it was, Sander barely being able to enter without hitting his head on it. Upon entering, the interior of the building was unexpected. The walls seemed old, and there was a stuffy smell. The whole place looked decrepit, though there was not much to be seen. An ablated, gray staircase was the only thing in the extremely short corridor, except for the white and cracked daub walls.
As Sander walked slowly, trying to soften his steps, he heard someone talking.
"Time to wake up, time to get up. No, no. Wake up sounds better. Get up sounds forced. Hurtful. Never hurt my children, never."
Never hurt? His children? Sander recognized the voice all too well.
If I showed up, hands tied between my back, would he not hurt me, too? Am I really his child anymore? Probably not. Either way, I wonder who are these children he speaks of.
After a low hiss, Sander heard steps.
Oh, right, right. He surely has tried to make more of those...freaks since I got away. I wonder how many of them are there? 5? 10? No, many of them died, Sander thought. They couldn't have all survived. 5 is probable, 10 is impossible.
"Why am I calling them freaks? I'm in the same league as them. I wonder if they're friendly, and what powers they have, oh yes I am. Oh-so curious!"
As he levitated closer, to avoid any noise, he peeked in from behind the corner. He saw the scientist talking with three people, one of them wearing a soldier uniform of some sort, and a mask with tinted goggles, which he found very odd and mildly disturbing. And then there were the blue jumpsuits, which were hanged on hangers in a corner, and on one of the so-called 'test subjects' that were there.
Hmm, three of them. Only three. And they look dazed. And those pods...I wonder if they just woke up. Either way, it's not much of a risk to do it. They all seem like they'd need a cup of coffee.
As soon as Sander peeked in, he raised the man. He knew he didn't raise his body, but rather manipulated the air around him to lift him. The man screamed "What is this?!" in a loud voice, and tried to move, as could be seen from his head, but his body was locked in place. Sander walked in the room, meeting the surprised faces of the dazed subjects, one of them on the floor, on his knees and hands. He quickly took a brief glance at them, and looked back at the scientist. He grinned as the scientist's body seemed to get thinner and thinner. He saw his blood and organs popping out from where his skin had been torn open, and from his eyes, mouth, nose and ears. Now he was extremely disgusted by the scene, and he looked away. He knew he had to concentrate on it to be able to continue doing it, but he didn't want to. Immediately, he let go of the scientist, and tried to get the mental image out of his head.
Peeking back, he noticed that the man was dead. Now there was a bloody mess on the floor, almost indistinguishable from a normal person.
"Eh, gross" Sander said, looking back at the subjects. "Uhh, hey?"
