Private Nataniel Smith, The First Fiend

The smell of disinfectants and sanitizers fills my nose as my mind is slowly drawn into consciousness. Even without opening my eyes, I know instantly that I am in a hospital. Anyone who has ever had to spend an extended period of time in one would never be able to forget the smell.

Soon enough I can hear the sound of a heart monitor softly beeping and the white noise of an air vent pumping fresh air into the room. My mind is slow and groggy to wake, like being drawn out of a deep and restful sleep.

Before my mind can wake any further, a presence makes itself known to me. A part of me locking onto to another person that I just know is in this room, refusing to turn away. It burns through my mind like a hot knife, shining like the sun and demanding my immediate and full attention.

My mind gets forcefully dragged into awareness by the connection. Like a dog on a leash, I get yanked violently awake, my eyes shooting open and leaving me gasping for breath. To my side, I can hear as the heart monitor begins to beep faster, in constant rhythm with the pounding in my chest.

I stare up at the ceiling and its bland dull white tiles and ask myself, “Where… Where am I? Am in a hospital…?”

A small voice answers me, her voice cutting through me, almost as if it is impossible to not be heard. “Your back at base. Currently three levels underground in the research facility at the center of base. But yes… You are basically in a hospital…”

“Why am in a hospital?” I try to ask, slowly sitting up on the bed and looking around. My mind freezes as my eyes fall on the small figure sitting in a chair by the wall, opposite the foot of my bed.

Small and grey of skin with black hair. Eyes like golden halos adoring black sclera and horns of pure white ivory. Claws like blades of void and a tail that appears to be sadly hanging off her chair. She watches me with a look of regret and shame, as is she is gazing upon a crime she had committed and is repenting with all her soul.

My mind lights itself on fire, a connection between us hitting me with whiplash like a rope pulled taunt.

Demon Queen. Devil. Blessed One. Dangerous. Powerful. Obey! Kneel!!!

My body moves of its own accord, throwing itself off the table faster that I have ever moved in my life. Electrodes, cords, IV’s, and all sort of other medical nonsense gets ripped from my body as I alight from the table and land with unnatural grace. My body instantly falls into a kneeling position, with one knee and one fist to the ground, with my arm resting on my other knee at an exact right angle. My head is bowed, aligned evenly with the floor, my eyes unable to look up from the ground. Before I can stop myself, my lips move on their own and my voice flows, sounding much deeper than I remember it. “My Queen!”

Why did I do that?! It only natural that I would kneel to her. She is my Queen. My Progenitor.

Where are these thoughts coming from? These feelings? I don’t understand any of this. Why am I here? The last thing I remember was… There was a monster… I…

For a long while, she does not speak. The only noise in the room is the sound of the heart monitor droning on with a continues high noise. It is soon turned off and the room is drawn into silence.

I continue to stare down at the linoleum tiled flooring and it failed attempt at bringing some color into this bland room with its little patterns. My thoughts spinning around in confusion and fighting to understand what is going on.

She finally speaks. Nothing more than a single request, but my mind is instantly pulled into focus. I answer without hesitation or need for thought.

“Identify yourself, please?”

“Private Nathanial Smith, service number #### ### ####*, Born May 17th, 2006. Your Fiend!”

*[Author’s note: Just a string of numbers. I don’t want to accidentally put down a real soldier’s service number.]

She remains quiet and my mind shakes as I realize what had just happened. The horror flooding through me like a wave. I want to get up and run away, but my body won’t listen to me. Every time I fight to stand, my mind reels back against a single command ingrained into my soul. Kneel.

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She finally talks again after some time, her voice shaking. “You’re scared… I can feel it…”

I want to answer her, tell her that I am and scream for help. But her words were a statement, not a question, not an order. I haven’t been given permission to speak.

A sense of calm tries to come over me, to quell my fear. There is no reason to be afraid. I should be happy to serve my Queen. Don’t be afraid, this is how I am supposed to be. I should be happy.

I rage against these feeling and thoughts and try to fight back, scared that my mind will be lost.

No! This isn’t right. This isn’t me. Why am I doing this!? I don’t want this!

Her word cut through my struggle, and I am forced to listen as she speaks. “Nathaniel, tell me what is happening in your head. Tell me the truth.”

The chains around me loosen slightly and I am finally able to talk. Though I am still unable to look up or move, I speak my words and beg, “My mind, it isn’t mine! I’m scared but some part of my is trying to make me feel happy! I want to be ordered by you. Please order me my Queen, I will be anything you want me to be. Please make it stop! I’m not in control of myself!”

I keep alternating between talking normally and composed, happy even, and then suddenly yelling and begging for help. I can feel as she panics. She suddenly stands and her chair clatters to the floor.

She quickly runs over, and I can see her feet from where I am staring at the floor, still talking and begging without stop. Her hands grab my head, and she quickly stutters out a command.

“Stop, stop! Uh… Uhm, the instincts trying to change your mind against your will. I Order it to stop! Think for self! Be yourself! I don’t want you to be a mindless drone that just happily does whatever I say. I want you to be you!”

Following her command, I immediately stop talking. In my mind I can feel as the other thoughts slowly recede and crawl away into some dark corner of my mind. Gone and waiting, but not dead. A part of me reassures me, almost happily, that it could all come back in a flood with a single word from our Queen. My existence is only tolerated because she allows it. My body does not move, but my mind shivers.

Back in reality, her hands are going over my head and feeling me. “Ok… Ok yeah, I think I got it under control. Uhm… Nathanial, answer me. Are you, you in there, the real Nathaniel Smith, or are you… not?”

The chains are loosened further, but I am still compelled to answer. “I’m me. Yes, I haven’t changed. The thing that was trying to change my thinking has been forced back.”

I want to tell her that I am scared, but that is outside the bounds of the question. So, I am unable to tell her.

She finally releases me and backs away, her feet disappearing from view. I can hear as she paces back and force, fighting to control her breathing, a shake in her voice. “Ok, ok, ok…. That was too much! Too much! I can’t handle this, what should I do…?”

I partially feel compelled to answer here even though the question wasn’t aimed at me. But I remain silent as a man’s voice answers her from a speaker. “Lain, how about you start by giving him some freedom. He’s still kneeling on the floor. He also appears to only talk when give him permission.”

She stops pacing and I get the impression that she just snapped her head to me. Actually, yes, she did. I can feel her looking at me.

What the hell is going on? Please tell me that this is all just a nightmare!

“Yes! Right, good idea! Alright, uhm… Nathaniel, you are free to stop kneeling and you are free to speak.”

The chains loosen much more, and I can finally move. Letting out a shaking breath, I stand up on the spot and start looking around. My first thoughts are, 'Why does everything look so small?'

I look around the room and immediately spot her again. I finally remember that her name is Lain, the Imp girl. She was at the new Forward Operation in the airport. She was… She was there when that monster attacked. When…

My eyes lock onto her and I recoil as a vestige of the thoughts resurfaces, taking a step back from her. Demon Queen. Devil. Obey.

She looks wounded and sad as she sees me take a step away from her. Going to take a step towards me, she quickly reconsiders and moves back. Turning away from me, she heads over to the wall and rights her chair before sitting down. I watch her as she nervously grabs at her jeans and watches me in return.

Realizing that she isn’t going to move nor talk, I finally manage to rip my eyes away from her and examine the rest of the room. My eyes stop as they come across a large mirror that fills one wall to our side. In it, two demonic figures are reflected. Lain remains sitting in her chair, looking like a kicked dog while the second figure stands like a monument to power and might, dressed in nothing but his underwear. He is a figure of perfectly sculpted muscle and a body that would inspire artists to chisel the finest marble so as to forever record what they have witnessed. His face is beautiful, a work of nature, shaped to be found attractive by anyone and everyone. His chest, shoulders, and face are spotted with the scars from healed over burns, but they serve to accentuate his appearance and add a sense of danger and curiosity.

From his crown, a pair of curved horns grow up and back, thick and sturdy at the base just before a sea of flowing locks of black hair that cascades down his back like a waterfall. From behind, a tail grows from his base and moves around of its own accord, ending with a spear headed tip.

For a long while, I simple stare at the figure…

Slowly, I take a step forward and the figure in the mirror matches me. I raise a hand to my face and feel at the base of a horn. The reflection follows suit.

I stare into the mirror and two ice blue eyes stare right back. My own eyes, lighter now and practically glowing, but unmistakably mine.

…

I swallow, “Is… is this me?”

A tiny voice speaks up from the side. “I was surprised too when I first saw myself… Suddenly, looking so different…”

“Why am I beautiful? I look like Satan if he was a Greek God… I, I look like I should be a comic book hero…” I ask, feeling at my face and touching at my muscles. Turning around, I look at my butt in the mirror. Flexing it a couple of times, I exclaim. “Why is my ass perfectly chiseled!?”

In the mirror I can see Lain reel back in shock, utterly flabbergasted. “Thats the first thing you ask!? Seriously!?”