V – 00002.3 – The Fuckening.

You fucking disappoint me, man... So much potential, so many lines, so much devious shit you’ve said in your life, and a quote from your father is all you got.

"Hey, cut me some fucking slack, alright. Besides, that fucking animal was eight times the killer I ever was... at least for now, but I think I’m going to start evening up the scoreboard between me and my dear old dad soon.

I turned and faced the door leading up to the rooftop and began walking towards it, preparing to receive my guests with open fangs.

“You are fucking intent on ruining this for me, aren’t you?” I said to the voices in my head as they began singing a mixture of different horribly conflicting songs in my head, everything from humming cry of the Valkyries to screaming, Let’s get it started.

Is that somehow a metal cover of we are number one?

Your god damn fucking right, now let’s teach these assholes a little lesson in trickery.

I had no more time to reply as the thin metal door that separated the open roof top from the building burst open with a man holding a machete in front of me who paled as soon as he saw my hulking, blood-smeared form.

I launched myself forward with a deep and rageful growl as I tried to pretend I didn’t have an entire funny farm for a peanut gallery in my head. My claws shredded the man before me with ruthless efficiency, digging into his forearms and chewing through his muscle and tendons instantly.

My hands continued diving into his chest cavity and punching through his skin and muscle. I grabbed hold of his sternum and yanked hard, lifting him up by his insides and twisting my arm as I threw him, smashing his skull into the ground with a crunch. Another man with a shotgun entered my peripheral vision as I squeezed my adrenal vault like a child trying to get everything and more out of his milk box.

Reality seemed to stop completely as my vision narrowed into slits; everything that wasn’t directly in front of me became blurry and dull as murderous impulses and rage colored my vision red, and my heart beat furiously in my chest as I broke into an inhumanly fast sprint without even thinking.

My body screamed under the pressure I was putting it under. My massively dense muscles contracted and stretched, making my bones shift uncomfortably. Every fiber of muscle in my body went into overdrive at once, my limbs firing like a V8’s pistons with nitrous being poured into it by the gallon.

I crossed the distance between me and the shotgun-wielding fuckup before he even leveled his gun at me, and I twisted my entire body; my knees and ankles screamed as I backhanded him with the force of my entire body.

My knuckles collided with his temples and slammed his head into a wall, cracking his skull underneath my brutal spinning backhand. My eyes spun in my head, shifting left and right, looking for the next person to unleash my hatred on.

Down the stairwell, I could see a group of people running up, and just barely underneath the sound of my blood rushing past my ears and the chorus of screaming in my head, I could hear them too.

Hopping over the railing, I entered a frighteningly slow free fall, which brought a momentary worry about what kind of stress I must be putting my organs through with this much adrenaline in me. However, my worries fell away as my feet smashed into another fresh victim, and I was suddenly standing on a stairwell with a person crushed under me and surrounded by very surprised and heavily armed gangsters.

I threw my hands out, slashing in more of a flail than any real attack strategy, but with my strength, speed, and the super cocaine surging through my body, what I considered a flail was outright lethal. Blood flew through the air as I cut the jugular of one man and ripped an eye out of another.

Then a distant sensation entered my abdomen; a burning pain that I was aware of yet couldn’t feel made me twist, and through a hasty punch in the direction it came from, my hand flashed out like a bullet and connected to a jaw with a loud snap, and as I twisted back, I backhanded my latest victim before I felt a boot slam under my armpit and sent me sprawling down the stairs.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

The knife in my gut was ripped out of me during the fall, and I could feel myself slowing down; my perception of time remained the same, but the inhuman monstrous strength and speed I was enjoying up until a fraction of a second away was starting to fail me, and I knew what it was.

My body… It can’t handle this; it’s starting to break down.

As soon as I became consciously aware of it, a hundred little sensations flared to life over my body, distant but all deeply painful. My body was screaming for help; muscles were tearing, tendons were stretching, and being rebounded so hard they were pulled out of place.

I pulled myself to my feet as another man ran towards me and triggered an old reflex I’d long since buried. My father’s training came back to me in spades as I jumped slightly into a spinning kick that shattered my would-be attacker's arm. My feet shifted beneath me unconsciously, putting me in an old-school militant taekwondo stance.

My vision started blurring softly as a sound began playing in my head—a hollow, repetitive banging. The sound of my head on metal as it was smashed against it over and over again brought a whole new feeling of rage to me, and I twisted, swinging out at the vision. And quickly pulled back, feeling my hand connect with a soft throat that I had just crushed.

The vision cleared as I started making a run towards the buildings exit, my hand down at my side trying and failing to hold my blood in me, and slowly, piece by piece, my senses were returning to me as the bloody adrenaline rush fled as quickly as I did.

I ran into the glass doors with my shoulder, which naturally were pull doors, and I smashed straight through the center, getting lacerations on every inch of exposed skin, and partially winded from the metal bar of a handle that I just barreled into and ripped off to get through the doors.

As I exited the dark building, light stabbed at my eyes, making them ache as the blacks of my eyes shrank to needle points. Then everything went blurry as I bent over hard and barely managed to stay on my feet and stumbled forward.

I threw my body back up, straightening my posture as I reached backwards and grabbed the head of a man just barely in my peripheral vision who had bent and smashed a bat over my skull.

Yanking hard, I lifted him into the air, twisting into the motion and throwing all my weight behind my attack. Which was clearly a mistake, as I felt a snapping sensation in my shoulder as I slammed him into the concrete and kept running. However, my arm would no longer move or respond to me in any way, shape, or form.

I crouched down mid stride and leapt up high vaulting over a wall, which gave me a suspicious amount of dejavu as I landed and regained my stride without missing a beat, although I could feel that I was slow. Not just slow for my new form, but really slow.

Squeezing softly on my adrenal vault, I felt... nothing; I was completely dry and drained as I kept up my death march to get away and to get home.

I ran... and ran, somehow managing to always stay ahead of the voices that chased me, evading and ducking away from them until I made it back to the road that would lead me to safety. I leapt over the metal divider and was half way over the fields when I turned my attention to my interface that told me my mutations had come back online.

In that moment of inattention, I was tackled hard as someone massive slammed into me from the side, sending me flipping and rolling through the dirt. Raising my one good arm, I dug my claws into the dirt to get control of my slide and stop myself just in time to see a massive boot kick my hard in the jaw, sending my steel mask flying off my head and landing with a loud thud away from me.

Staring down at me was a blurry mountain of a man with black skin and a clean shave raising his hands in preparation to smash me like the fucking hulk. I scrambled backwards, and the man paused.

"Viktor.” He spat, "Oh, how the mighty fall, Terminator... Killer, look at you scrambling away and barely alive. You remember me, don’t you? Actually, I bet you don't; you were always an arrogant asshole, and it’s nothing but a pleasure to kill you.”

The man stepped forward again to get closer to me, easily closing the minute distance I’d managed to create as he prepared to snuff out my life. He raised his leg high and began to stomp down.

Twisting my body, I threw my legs out and wrapped them around his and kept twisting, pulling him down to the ground as I curled my toes and dug my claws deep into his calf and thigh and lacerated his leg with the motion.

I untangled myself from him and rolled away and sprung up back to my feet, leveraging my superior agility and momentum to stand up with my hands.

My vision began to clear as I stared down at... Clark and I reared my foot back and kicked him hard in the ribs, my toes slicing into him as I sent him twisting away from me, but without the crunch I’d come to expect when I hit a human.

I pressed my hand against my stab wound and put pressure on my abs as Clark began righting himself.

He groaned as he stood and put himself into a defensive boxing posture. “What the fuck.” He snapped as he examined me, looking over my battered form and my viscera-drenched claws and sharp bloody teeth. “I always knew you were a fucking monster.”

I corrected my stance, shifting my legs, ready to use them as the weapons my father made sure they were.

No more handicapping myself; I need to kill this fucker and fast.

Baring my teeth and snarling, I exploded forward into a massive kick, bringing my left foot up in a high arc that made Clark step backwards to avoid me, and I followed it, leaping with my off foot before my left foot returned and kicking out and slicing my claws across his abdominals.

His clothes ripped open, and blood flew away from his stomach as he jumped back from me.

Too shallow; we can’t let this become a game of attrition; we need something decisive.

We have an idea... if you’re sure you can survive long enough to heal and you do it right.

Hundreds of images and illusions flitted through my eyes as the voice in my head filled me with

Every detail of what it planned in milliseconds, and I understood what to do as Clark began

Closing in on me.

You are certifiably fucked in the head... Let’s do this shit.

I began to sprint forward, intent to take my previous aggression and make it look like a child’s

Rage as I snarled and the last dregs of my adrenaline flooded my body.