Jim the Projector - Bloody Exit






The masked man awoke to the raspy voice of his captor. Such a horrid sound it was. Truly this is what the darker side of the Forlorn sounded like, wasn't it? Well, that was what he imagined it to be. The room he was confined in was blank. Nothing defined it in any way. There were no lights, so the man could observe no color. There were no furnishings, so could it even be called a room? Well... maybe it was just a cell?

"Jim, get over here," the raspy voice commanded once more. Such a pain. Maybe the man should just rip the owner of that horrid voice to shreds? No, then there would be no food. Food was good.

The man - called Jim by all he had ever encountered - crawled over to where the voice was. He heard a click and a grinding sound, then light engulfed his vision. There went his clear head. The headache was already starting to form, but at least his vision cleared. It took only a moment before Jim could see the man in the grey suit through the eye holes of the plain mask that covered his pale face.

"Subject 13 is blinded by light still, but his eyes adapt three times the speed of a normal Defined." He paused and lowered the little device he held to observe Jim crawling forward once more. "Movement is slow after 15 days of isolation. Survival rate has improved, but not performance. Consider raising the amount of synchronization with Forlorn."

Jim ignored the man and took the plate from his other hand. On it was the usual slop he was fed. Though it tasted bad, it was surprisingly filling and even made him feel better. Such a convenient meal, since Jim cared nothing for fine dining. The man was still going on as two others came into the room. One was a woman and the other another man. Why did they look annoyed? 

The two of them started placing strange devices on Jim, then recording some things. What were they finding? It didn't really matter, but he was curious. Peeking a glance at the chart. He couldn't read well, but he did know his numbers. Heart Rate: 3987.5. What did that mean exactly? A quick check of his chest and Jim felt the usual vibrating. Oh well. He quickly finished his meal and waiting for the two of them to finish.

Then, without thought or remorse, Jim shoved his hand through the nearest of the people - the woman. Warm blood soaked his arm as his hand escaped her back. Why did it have to be a woman tending him today? A man he could kill without a second thought, but a woman had caused him to wait and see if she would leave. Pity.

The man closest to the door begin to call for help. "We need assistance! Subject-" 

His voice was cut off when his head was smashed against the wall. Jim still had no idea how he did it. Some curse of the Forlorn? In any case, he might as well hurry on. Before leaving, he glanced at the other man. He looked to be in shock. Following his eyes, Jim realized that the man looked at the corpse of the woman. Were they a couple? Odd, in this place. But Jim had no remorse anymore. Didn't he?

Without a second thought, Jim shoved his fist toward the man and his power went to work. It was quick and bloody. The head was smashed against the wall, sending a spray of blood and clumps of flesh all across the room and even on Jim. Disgusting.

With that, he left. 

"Such a good day this will be," Jim said to himself, ripping off the mask that covered his face. Freedom would be his. 

The End

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