The Prince could hear the annoying click sound of metal against metal from where he sat. He was reclined in a soft, puffy chair to rest his aching back. He was in his early twenties, and already having back problems. His head pounded against his skull in intervals of two seconds and it drilled anger deep from within his core. He crossed his leg over the other in irritation, tapping his fingers on the edge of the arm rest. It was the same anger from before when he’d slaughtered the people from one of the most recent villages. The nervous twitch in his eyebrow and blood curdling scream in the very back of his head. When he looked up, he saw his mother’s rotten corpse laying on the floor just beside the cryopod holding the Kukouk man. He felt the other man creeping around in his head, the one he didn’t recognize.
“John,” his mother purred before an eyeball oozed out from the socket and rolled across the floor. Seemingly, the doctors and the scientists who were flocked over the cryopod managed to miss its gross trail. The spherical object rolled around until the pupil met the Prince’s eyes. Brown met blue. Goo dripped from it slowly, and the smell invaded the Prince’s nostrils.
“Johnny boy. I see you.”
The Prince turned his head away, hands shaking. He took his attention off of the corpse and turned his attention towards an empty, cleared room. The door was propped open and the class windows that stretched from the ceiling to the floor had all been cleaned recently with the bleach disinfectant. Inside, the lights were bright, running off one of the only solar powered generators in the United States. RT and Tian fought with metal sticks. A barrage of hits and blocks. A long time ago, Tian kept getting hit by RT, unable to match his speed and his duration. Now, though, the metal sticks flew in the air as they kept up with each other. A grey blur as their arms moved just as fast. Clink, clink, clink. The sound was torture on his headache.
Finally one of the sticks was knocked out of Tian’s hands and sent careening to the wall. He watched RT disarm the boy seconds later and throw him to the ground like he was a defenseless bag of flour. Tian coughed before rolling over and getting to his feet. He picked up the fallen sticks in a swift, angry swipe before facing RT.
RT swiped the sweat from his forehead and judging from the blossoming bruise on the side of RT’s jaw, Tian had gotten a good hit in. His snowy skin always looked nice with bruises and blood coating it. He remembered how much the long scar had bled the day it was carved out of his face.
Clink Clink Clink. Beyond those two’s continuous sparring, the scientists chattered all around him. They clicked their pens over and over again and the Prince rubbed his head.
“Johnny,” The corpse whispered once more, letting her skeletal fingers wrap around his throat. She tightened her grip on his flesh but not a single person in the room noticed. Blood started to drip from the ceiling onto the pale, porcelain floors. It dripped onto his jaundiced skin, streaming down his cheek. Everything felt like it was under water and filtered. The Prince felt rage in his bones as he got up from his chair and stepped towards the one bastard man who wouldn’t stop clicking his pen. Over and over and over again he clicked it until the Prince couldn’t stand it anymore.
The scientist looked up at him with a nervous smile right before the Prince wrapped his hands around the man’s throat. The Prince’s mother sneered behind him, pressing her rotten chin onto his shoulders, muddying up his pristine white clothes with her skin and goo. The Prince tightened his grip on the scientist’s neck as sweat poured down his forehead. People screamed. The man he had a hold of screamed until he couldn’t and he just shook in the Prince’s hands. The Prince sneered as solid hands wrapped around his chest and yanked him back. Bronzed hands grabbed his own paler hands and the Prince had a second to stare at the black lines curling up the boy’s arms before he was yanked away into a familiar, solid chest. Sharp nails dug into his skin, and they were only getting sharper by the second. He turned his head and the bastard Kukouk boy that fixated RT stared right back at him. His eyes were flared up in gold.
His body started to jolt and shake in the man’s arms. Violently and without abandon he thrashed as his consciousness ebbed away.
When he awoke again he was strapped to a gurney, inside a loud whirring vehicle. He thrashed in his confines and screamed profanities as blood dripped in through the cracks of the doors.
“Please,” the Prince cried. “I don’t want to…”
The vehicle was full of bodies. Hundreds of them. He recognized their faces. He was there the day they were killed. On that boat, peering down at them as they floundered helplessly like fish on a deck. They were, in a way, fish on a deck. They crawled up the stretcher and grabbed onto his legs and held tight.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered as they stood up, blood oozing from their gills and their eyes. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t… I couldn’t have…”
But he had killed them. Not directly, but he’d ordered for their execution despite being such a peaceful group. He killed them in cold blood. “Forgive me.”
The Prince didn’t know who he was anymore. His head hurt. It hurt so fucking much and it made him so angry. He watched the massacre like it was on television, like he was reading it out of a paper. He didn’t want to kill those people, but he wanted to kill them at the same time. The Prince’s hands shook as he twisted and turned in the gurney. The paramedics were long gone.
“I don’t like who I’m becoming,” he whispered in horror. “Why… why am I hurting people?”