Screaming out in excruciating pain, Junbei's body began to convulse due to the large volume of electricity that was being pumped through his body. "Interesting..." the marine Captain announced, checking Junbei's vital's and heart rate. "No matter how much volts I go up by or how many times I electrocute you... You haven't been able to scream in agony once. Is it a physiological problem or maybe a brain defect..." the man said pondering to himself. "Have you ever read the story about the Goddess of Sound called Echo?" the man inquired smiling eerily. "She was alluring... Everything about her personality was truly riveting. However, she'd often distract the other gods with her promiscuous nature... Is this really a story I should be tell kids..." the man stopped puzzling his moral ethics. "Oh well. Echo's beauty captivated Jupiter and his wife Juno became jealous of their lengthy interactions. Juno cursed the nymph. She was forced to echo the last sounds she heard for all eternity... Tragic isn't it?" the marine inquired checking Junbei's pupils. "In many ways your a lot like Echo... You're body is so intriguing... It's reaction to stimuli is so delayed and it's healing properties so privy, with a few modifications, I can turn you into the perfect super solider." the man said, resting his cheek against Junbei's. "However, alas. No one's ever survived project Echo... It's the project were we send all the duds like yourself." the man said, gently kissing Junbei on his cheek. "Now then!" the man exclaimed clapping his hands. "Experiment number two!" the man shouted, picking up a gigantic butcher knife, about thirteen inches in length off the operation room's table. It was dimly lit, at least from Junbei's perspective but the room's were sound proof and padded with a variety of noise cancelling materials. It was a small 10 x 10 room, equipped with a variety of sterile operating materials, desks, chest and drawers. Passing out from the sight of the knife, Junbei woke up hours later, which his chest patched back together with precise stitching.
Groggy from the series of drugs and the large volumes of blood he had lost, Junbei couldn't actually move for the first few days. Several days later, Junbei was ushered into a recreational room, filled with various books, games and memory puzzle tools. However, his eyes were glued onto a machine, no a fixture much more alluring to him, even before he could name the monster that bellowed so loudly as a piano. Sitting on the chair behind the grand piano, a woman's hands elegantly danced against it's piano's keys. She was slightly older than Junbei, about fifteen years of age from the looks of her skin, free of ageing or unnecessary looseness in the skin. Her rosary plump lips almost glossed in the sunlight that peered through the glass ceiling room, as her body jotted around from side to side like a madman, moving to the rhythm of the composition she played. It got loud at times, at other times it was soft, sometimes the notes sounded angry but almost in a passive aggressive manner, she couldn't seem to mask in the scuttling notes. He'd never seen something more beautiful in his life, it was as if God had sent him an angel, as her wings fluttered outwards, flapping at every tangent of a changing progression. Her smile was as smooth as honey trickling from a worker bee's stinger into the queen's hive. Her crimson red eyes seemingly glowed from the angle he was watching from as she played. Suddenly, the notes were about to fade, not abruptly but gradually. It hurt almost a little more, or so Junbei figured, for the music to smoothly fade than to have an abrasive ending.
Almost everything in his life ended abruptly. He found comfort in that reality. Never getting attached to humanly things such as joy, passion or pain. To be passionate about food for example brought about hunger, a mechanism he had abandoned, as an orphan couldn't fund it being a pauper. However, this poverty was a perverse joke passed down through his family's bloodline, so much so, the prude universe punished all of his lineage for it. Obviously, Junbei's to was no different, simple things such as attachment, to reiterate never resonated very long in his mind or soul. On this day, at this moment, he'd forsaken the creed that kept him sane. Even at the tender age of seven, the butterflies he felt in his stomach, the tears that welled in his eyes and the steady prickling in his heart from the ending piece, revealed a truth neither his mind nor heart was able to recognise in his purity. Standing up from the piano, the woman smiled, closing it's lid. Walking over to the handlers, who had escorted him into the room, who were also stunned by the woman, no the teenager's beauty and poise. "Wormwood! It's time for your treatment." the guard shouted. The woman looked towards the guards with a great sorrow in her eyes, they looked drained, as if she stayed up all night dreading this moment. It was the slowest, he'd come to recognise in retrospect, she'd ever walked in all of his existence knowing her.
Much like everything in his life, their first encounter too, was very abrupt. The woman shot the child a smile, retracting her wings as she went with the guards. The children murmured among themselves, some even began to cry at the woman's absence but he had no idea what was going on. He was an outsider who had only had a subtle taste of the cruelty this organisation was attached to. What hurt Junbei even more was his inability to speak. He'd always been a good listener, so he tried to zero into the conversations, picking up bits and pieces of words which were gibberish to him at first but soon he came to recognise the jargon and syntax. Like clockwork, his muscle memory connected the mumbling sounds, to words, from words, he constructed sentences, from sentences, he formed reasoning. The speck of reasoning finally released the welled tears from his eyes like a geyser shooting up towards the heavens. "I can't believe it's time already... Today's the day they cut off Worm's wings." one of the children said, muffled in tears and uncontrollable crying.
Running towards the guarded door, Junbei began to throw a tantrum. He tried screaming but no words would come out. Of course, he was a mute, why would they now? Now of all times? Over a complete stranger? Shouting, another foreign concept in his arsenal, didn't exist. As the cold iron fixture of the guard's gun broke against the child's face and the scent of the guards freshly polished shoes, mixed in with aroma of smelly socks and ageing leather, thumped against his head. His resistance was short lived and denied. Dragging his trampled body from the guard's position, the inmates laid him on the bed to sleep. The tremendous pang from his wounds, soothed his anger and brought about slumber. Before tomorrow, which was in a few hours, a repeat of his first several days would become like a routine. This time, a cold water bath awaited him.
Tomorrow brought, electro-therapy again, the day after, combat training, the day after hypnotherapy and similar treatments of these variety. However, neither his brain nor body was responsive to these treatments, making the intensity increase. Bringing nothing but a broader smile on the face of his buyer and master. Chattel can only cry if his master spills water on it's person. Either way, how could objects cry. Therefore, Junbei's tears were nothing but his masters will, a will that was law and therefore, within the walls of Base #45, king. "I began to learn that this was hell. The afterlife was just a concept fed to kids to make them behave appropriately. Earth was hell. This existence was our punishment. I never thought I'd find a reality I'd rather not live in aside from my days on that island, walking all alone. It seemed like that was heaven and I was casted out to this hell for my sins. It lead me to one conclusion, I could only be the devil." Junbei thoughts trailed and narrated.
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