Chapter 1
There is a philosophy that says that we all have a purpose in life. No matter how insignificant it is, it’s important that you do it. But what if what you are destined for is darkness? To bring death, despair, and all the another horrible stuff humanity would be better without. What do you then? Do you follow through or do you just, not complete it? Huh, those are the questions those psychos never think about.
We are in an underground, experimental, secret military base, better known as Area 51. Some people say that they create weapons here, others say that they experiment on aliens, in truth it’s a little bit of both.
The military is working on a special weapon, special humanoid weapons, obviously being created for war, only a lot worse. We weren’t just created for the battle part of war, but of practically every aspect of war. They say we are there greatest creation yet. But they don’t get it.
We are humanoid weapons. That means we have emotions, feelings, likes, dislikes, we feel everything a regular person feels only we are a billion times more dangerous. But they only seem to have focused on the ‘weapon, destroy all’ part.
There are many different groups in this base, but the group we are is basically the worst one, the most dangerous. Deadly. We are so dangerous that some of the other humanoid weapons fear us. Sometimes, we even scare ourselves…
***
The buzzing of the alarm rang in my ear as I lay in bed, my hard concrete bed. Four o’ clock in the morning already? I thought. I was tempted to put the pillow over my head and ignore it, or just shut it off and keep sleeping, but being the good little weapon that I am, I got out of bed and attempted to wake up my sisters.
I walked over to the bed just a couple of feet from mine and shook my sister trying to wake her. “Torch, Torch, wake up.”
“Ugh,” she moaned refusing to get up.
I took the pillow from my bed and hit her on her head with it. “Torture, wake up! If you don’t wake up they’ll melt you down until your just, but a puddle of molecules!”
Torture moaned, but slowly started to get up. I walked over to all my other sisters waking them up. It was a lot simpler with them. A simple nudge or a ‘wake up’ and they’d actually get up. Once we were all up we started to make our beds. Part of protocol.
Our room -if you really look at it- it’s kind of depressing. Dark navy blue walls, black floor, white sheets and blue blankets on all five beds with one white pillow placed on each one. No windows, not pretty decorations, just a one way mirror that they use to observe us sometimes.
I finished making my bed and looked at it for a couple of seconds, admiring my work. I looked up to see that Misery was having a hard time with her sheets. She’d tuck in one edge and the other would pop out. I smiled to myself. “Misery, do you need help with that?”
She looked up at me with a shy smile and hopeful eyes, “Could you?”
I chuckled and walked over to help her. I helped with the evil sheets of doom, but once I was finished the intercom turned on. “Death,” called the voice from the intercom.
“Yes, Dr. McKinley?” I said, the room going silent.
“Tell me, Death, is it your job to help insignificant people when they cry for help?”
“No.”
“Then, what is your job?”
“I am a weapon for the United States Military.”
“That is correct. Then tell me why were you helping Misery?”
“Because she requested assistance,” I said, not really getting the point of the ridiculous conversation.
“We didn’t create you to socialize with the other weapons. Focus on what you need to do and stop wasting your time!”
Your wasting my time. “You are correct ma’am. I shall try not to make the same mistake again, please forgive my ignorance,” I said almost mockingly. They didn’t seem to notice.
“Apology excepted, now carry on with your duty’s.” And with that the intercom shut off. I rolled my eyes.
“Can you believe them?” I said
“No,” said Torture, and walked over to the intercom. She pressed the button. “I hope you guys are happy you just wasted thirty-two seconds of our lives we will never get back.” She took her figure off the button and walked over to me. “These people are obsessed with protocol, and here they are wasting our time yelling at you for the most ridiculous things!”
“It’s no big deal, let’s just try not to get in trouble, okay?”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want them to get rid of us!”
Torture sighed. “Fine, I promise that I shall not do nice things to help my sisters.”
I chuckled, “If that’s what it takes then you wont.”
“You are too nice.”
“Eh, I try,” I said, she laughed.
“Um, should we try getting ready? We are going to be late,” said Despair.
“You are right. Illness, I washed your uniform last night, here,” I said, tossing it to her.
“Oh no, Death, you have done good, now you must suffer the ultimate price!” said Torture jokingly.
I laughed, “Very funny now go take a shower, you,” I said pushing her toward our bathroom with five individual stalls, metal floor, metal walls, stainless steal shower heads. Shiny.
Once we all got out of the shower we put on our uniforms and started to get ready. Our uniform consists of a short sleeve ASU white shirt, black neck tab, belt, buckle & Tip, black pants, combat boots, and a black beret with the United States seal.
I past a comb through my wavy black hair, with my light colored skin and dark, dark, brown eyes (that look almost black) I look a little intimidating, or scary, or sick. But in reality I’m really none of those things. Well, I am a little dangerous. You see, I was created fifteen years ago as a weapon for the military, we all were, which means we weren’t necessarily made for good reasons, we were designed for war. They call me Death, because that is what I was created for. I have an ability to slowly suck the life out of any life form.
I walked over to my bed to find Torture putting on her boots. She has straight read hair and brown eyes. She originally had black hair, but she broke into the chemistry lab and created her own hair dye. Don’t ask how, because I don’t know. Torture, was created fourteen years ago, she is shorter than me and has dimples, but don’t let it fool you! She has an attitude, to much of it actually. She has to assist anger management classes every other day. Torture has some pretty dangerous abilities too. She can inflict any element of torture o any living thing with just a simple touch. She can make them feel like the are being burned alive, or beat up, or any other ways to torture someone, hence her name Torture.
The people hear aren’t very creative with names.
I looked over at, Misery, she was tucking in her shirt. Her short, wavy, sandy brown hair hanging lose slightly under her jaw line and with her green eyes, she just doesn’t look dangerous at all. Misery, was created fourteen years ago and is incredibly perky person, always trying too look at the Brightside of things, though sometimes she can be pretty… narcissistic sometimes, she is still a good girl. She has an ability to make you feel miserable. Like completely horrible. She was created mostly as an element of torture.
Despair, was already dressed she started combing her straight, pitch black hair that hung slightly above her jaw line. She was as tall at me, 5’5, she has fair skin and chocolate brown eyes. Despair, was also created fourteen years ago, and she is really nice. She is really caring, she can be shy sometimes, but that is do to the fact that we have ever been outside. She is also a little boy crazy and she can always make you laugh. Despair, has a very… sad power. She can drain all hope from anyone. I think her ability is one of the scariest, I mean what kind a world would we have without hope?
Illness, was sitting on her bed writing in her journal. She writes in it every night and most mornings. She has wavy light brown hair half way down her neck and light brown eyes. She was created fifteen years ago, just like me, she is really shy and tends to keep to herself sometimes, but she is really nice and really creative. Her name really says it all, she can make you sick. Not make you feel sick, but literally ill. And not just a simple illness like the flu, I’m talking cancer, creutzfeldt, AIDS, etc.
“Death,” said, Misery, “come on we are going to be late for our classes.”
I smiled, “Okay, let’s go.”
We got up, Torture passed a comb through her self done bangs, put on her hat and we walked out. We are known as the Deadly Ones. We are the military's most dangerous and best weapons. Our whole life revolves around war, and we have nothing to say about it.
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