The first thing he was exposed to were sounds. Before he could see, before he could speak, there were the sounds. They never left him, and he had always found a sort of comfort in them.

At first, they were muffled. Pulses and beats, but he never truly knew what they were. Floating in the darkness, they were the only things he knew.

And he wanted more.

Slowly but surely, they became clearer. The beats became more pronounced. They were still muffled, but in a way they had more feeling. More meaning. And they were all around him.

Eventually he noticed that there was a similar beat coming from him as well. Before, he thought that the sounds came only from out of the darkness. Now, he realized he was making a beat of his own.

He had no idea what to call this sound. But it was a wonderful noise, and it came from him and those around him, and he cherished it.

Then, the thoughts came. And with those thoughts, knowledge. That brought on the light. The darkness began to fade, shapes started to emerge from the dimness in which he lived in.

That's when he heard a new sound. An odd sound. A sound which he could not describe, but it invoked a sort of feeling in him, a feeling of purposefulness. The knowledge he was granted with coiled around in his mind, feeding his intellect with an oddly beautiful vibration.

And then he knew what the unusual sounds were.

Voices.

It only went up from there. At last, the dark was completely dispelled, and the shapes became figures. The figures were blurry and submerged in shadow for a while, until his senses sharpened. The blurry blobs became people. He could see.

The knowledge coursed through his being. He loved the rush of it, the zing of it in his mind. And the words. How he adored words! But he would always admire the sounds the most.

He began to decipher the voices around him. He began to learn them. And he wanted to make a voice of his own. But he couldn't.

He became quite forlorn at this. And to cure this, he continued to listen to the voices around him. They spoke of things such as 'tests' and 'progress'. One time, one of the voices was suddenly infused with an emotion. The knowledge informed him that it was called 'excitement'. It was around the time when he found out he could stop looking at the figures above, which he called "people".

His vision shifted, and he was looking behind the people. There was also a light there, but it was so blinding that he could not gaze at it for more than a few seconds. The light also brought out a new feeling in him. A negative one.

If he looked behind the people for too long, his eyes would begin to sting. He recoiled from it, shutting out the painful brightness with a simple movement of his face.

Pain, his thoughts informed him. You are feeling pain.

He did not like this pain. He vowed to never feel it again.

So he turned away from the light.

Time passed. He could feel himself growing stronger, growing more knowledgeable about the world beyond the odd jelly-like liquid he was currently submerged in. But he wanted more. He's always wanted more, wanted to fully understand everything that was going on around him. But something told him that he would never know. So he decided that he was going to learn as much as possible.

He began to gain control of the limbs attached to him. There were small, barely noticeable twitches at first, but he learned fast. Along with wanting to be the most knowledgeable, he was a fast learner, catching up to things the people outside had not yet told him about.

Soon, he discovered that it was going too slow. The process. He had countless information stored in his thoughts, countless ideas that could not be put to use because the people outside had to "take their time". That bothered him. Why should he wait for the instructions of beings who already have all of their knowledge? Shouldn't they know what he was going through, because they've already experienced it themselves? Couldn't they have some compassion for someone who was clearly developing faster than they thought he would?

That's where he was wrong. Horribly wrong.

Instead of speeding up the process, they slowed it down even further. He became infuriated at this. They had the nerve to restrain him like this, and it felt awful. He could feel it growing, the knowledge, but there was nowhere for it to go. It was all bottled up.

But he than began to think. They were monitoring his growth. Surely they were doing what they thought was best, right?

He relaxed at this revelation. The people outside were doing it for his own good. So he could mature, at when he was finally released, show all of them how much he'd grown.

This kept him at bay for a while, but not for long. But instead of feeling anger at this, he felt something else. It had been a long time since another emotion had shown up, so he was also slightly curious at what this might be.

It was a feeling that began in the very pit of his stomach. It snaked upwards, beginning to smother the knowledge with its own poisonous tendrils. Eventually, it filled his entire body, his entire soul, and somehow it was far worse than the pain he had experienced when looking into the light.

This terrible new emotion was called fear.

It took over his mind. It began to control his thoughts. He started to think of the worst. What if the people outside had realized that he wasn't worth it anymore? That they would just abandon him and move onto their next "experiment"?

No. He couldn't let that happen. He had to prove to them that he could be the strongest one. The one that won't let them down. The one with the most knowledge.

So he started to gather all of his intellect, all of the things he knew as of now. He knew this would take time, for he had many things going on in his mind. During this time, he became aware of another presence next to him. Growing unhurriedly, but with all the same power he was collecting. He decided on something. When he finally finished growing and came out into the world, he would take the presence next to him, and teach them the vast knowledge that he had of the world.

Slowly but surely, they both developed. He wanted for it to go faster, but he held back. He had to be patient, and this was something that could not be rushed.

Just like before, time passed. The same old song and dance routine, waiting for the people outside to notice his true intellect, having them speed the process up a bit more, and then waiting some more.

He'd never one with much patience. Now, as he thinks back on it, maybe being so impatient was what finally unlocked that part nestled deep within his brain. That part that didn't want to do anymore waiting.

That some things just had to be rushed in order to achieve their full potential.

He may have been one with a low tolerance for waiting, but he could certainly plan. He wasn't stupid. He continued to act just as he did before, going through the whole monotonous routine again and again to lure the people outside into thinking that everything was fine, that everything was going alright.

It was the complete opposite of that. He gathered all of the knowledge, all of the intellect into one single, pure ball of energy. He was surprised they didn't notice this was happening. He marveled at their denseness, and was slowly beginning to lose all respect for them that he once had.

It took a while. Everything seemed to take too much time at this stage. He was almost tempted to release the energy right then and there, but he stopped himself. If there wasn't enough for the first time, they would begin to suspect, and he would have to start all the way from square one.

And he waited and waited for the right time. He didn't fully comprehend how he knew when the time was right, but he suspected it was something set there by coincidence. Or was it fate?

By now, he didn't really care. All he wanted was out, and that's what he was going to do.

And so, without checking to see if anyone was around him, knowing fully that he could die because of this, he does it.

After that, he couldn't bring up the whole of the event, no matter how hard he tried. This had been the most defining moment, the moment when his life truly began, and he remembered almost nothing. Sometimes he hated himself for it. Sometimes he thought it was for the best.

But what he did recall would forever be burned into his mind. The sudden coldness, the freezing artificial air burning into his skin. The lights, now infinitely brighter than they were before, stung his sensitive eyes. The equally cold floor beneath him. He remembers taking a shaky step backwards and feeling an acute pain run up his leg. With a sharp intake of breath, he stumbled forwards and turns around to see what had hurt him. A trail of crimson ran from the bottom of his foot, a shard of glass lying on the ground a few steps away from him.

And that's when the sounds began. A fusillade of blaring assaulted his ears, accompanied with the panicked yells of the scientists around him.

The scientists…

He remembers his head snapping towards a movement he detected near his left. A man lay cowering in a corner, the entire front of his chest soaked with blood. He later learned that his escape caused the container he was being held in to explode, impaling many of the people around him with glass.

He walked up to the man, quickly gaining control of his limbs. He towered over the scientist, and he seemed to shrink back even more.

"Please," the man on the ground rasped. He suddenly dissolves into a barrage of coughs, more of the thick, dark red liquid spilling out onto his chest. "Don't do it."

He tilted his head to the side curiously. Don't do what? He deserved everything he was getting. He looks at the blood, which was pooling out onto the floor. It wasn't as if the scientist was going to live any longer.

He suddenly stooped down, his hands wrapping around the other man's neck. The scientist's eyes go wide, and a horrible gagging noise comes from his throat. Blood trickled onto his hands, and he was slightly shocked by its warmth.

A burst of adrenaline suddenly overtakes him, and his breathing sped up as rage clouded his vision. What was he doing here, wasting his time with someone who was about to die? There were many more people that needed to face the consequences of their actions.

He lifted the man up effortlessly, still grabbing him by his neck. Ignoring the fresh wave of blood and the scientist's weak kicks, one of his hands absent-mindedly moves onto the man's head, the other one tightly gripping the chin. With a strength he didn't know he possessed, he forcibly twisted the man's head to the right.

An audible snap echoed through the lab, somehow sounding even louder than the wailing of the alarms. The man's body goes limp, and he dropped the corpse on the floor in a mix of fascination and disgust. He looked at his hands with a sort of wonder, watching the blood drip off of them slowly.

Speaking of blood, he looked down at his chest. He had just noticed he was wearing a nightgown of some sort, and it was soaked with the red liquid. But there were more pressing matters at hand. How did he know how to kill a person like that?

He supposed that his creators put that in his mind at one point. So they had wanted him to kill.

He turned his attention back on the dead man. After a few moments of thinking, he grabbed the body and pulled the lab coat off. After all, he needed something to wear before the nightgown fell apart.

As he was putting the article of clothing on, he noticed a tag on the left side of the coat. He pinched it between his fingers, narrowing his eyes as he read the words.

A name. Did he have a name? No one had ever told him. He had to pick one. And what name would be more fitting than the one of his first kill?

Mouthing the newfound words, he looked up as he heard footsteps thunder down a hallway. A grin began to form on his face as a horde of people entered the room, many armed with weapons.

It was good judgement that they came in as soon as he was experiencing the world for the first time.

It almost made the fight fair.

That had been around 20 years ago. Now he mused over those memories like someone would muse over a scrapbook. A trip down memory lane, if you would call it that.

Funny, he never knew what had happened to the other experiment next to him. He didn't have time to check when he first ventured out of the room, and when he came back, it was gone. Probably destroyed in the initial impact of his container exploding.

He could see the fight from here. The lights of the grand hotel burned brightly in the pouring rain, enhanced by the fact that there was a large hole in its side. Smoke billowed up from the machine that had crashed into it, and he wondered if it would catch on fire. It would add to the excitement.

The corner of his mouth twitched as he noticed a few figures that had made it outside of the building. They fought near the edge of the machine, taking no mind of the streak of lightning that suddenly sliced across the sky.

What were their names again? Ah, yes. The Hackers and the Justifiers. A soft laugh emerged from him as he shook his head. It was so entertaining to watch them quarrel over trivial things, only to have them fighting once more in the next week. It seemed to never end.

One part of him wanted it to not finish. He wanted to see how they would end up after, oh, let's say, a decade? He wanted to know if they would still be going after their little troubles, to see if they would ever learn. But the more rational part of him knew that it would be too long. He had to get rid of them as soon as possible if he wanted to do what he had to do. Although, they were doing a pretty good job themselves. If there were any casualties after this particular spat, that would make his job a lot easier.

He continued to spectate over the fight, eyes dancing over the battle. They never failed to amaze him.

His thoughts were interrupted by the creaking of his office door. Not turning around, he spoke.

"Yes?"

There was the shuffling of papers. "Sir, we've seemed to have another one of our subjects reach Phase Two."

He turns his head slightly, interest piqued. "Are they in stable condition?"

The woman straightens her glasses, shuffling the papers once more. "Yes."

Taking his gaze off of the feud, he looks at the woman straight in the eye. He sees her pale, but pays no attention. "And the doctor?"

"He says he's ready to perform another operation, but he needs another patient."

He strides towards her and she moves out of the way, holding her papers to her chest. As he walks down the pristine hallway, she catches up next to him.

"Ask for a volunteer. If there aren't any, inform me."

She nods rapidly, muttering an affirmation. She takes off, almost running. He watches her go down the rest of the hallway.

"Oh, and one more thing."

The woman spins around, breathing heavily. "Yes, Mr. Shrike?"

He offers her an easygoing smile, raising an eyebrow. "Call me Paul."

Her face returns to its normal color. She coughs and brushes a stray hair away from her face. "Yes, sir." With a final look at him, she continues to walk, this time more relaxed.

He turns back around, heading towards his office. As he steps into it once more, he thinks.

With some luck, the patient will make it past Phase Two and survive. And the doctor will perform another operation. It will take some convincing if he doesn't want to, but in the end, he has no choice.

He returns to his place beside the window. It looked like most of the fight had moved outside. The rain had also lifted slightly, and the sun had gone down some more, darkening the city expect for the area near the hotel.

The hole in the building caught his attention. The machine blocking it was now gone, and the hole had gotten significantly larger. He could see a few people lying on the ground around it, not moving.

He had missed the explosion.

Pity.

OCs Used:

You all know who.

o0o

A/N:

Wow, look. I actually got another chapter done in a decent amount of time. And I'm pretty okay with how it turned out :)

Now, it's time to continue Chapter 5. Which will take 3 years.

jkjk

Have a great day/night,

PlatinumFire~