Page 15

Then, slowly, he reached down and took the scalpel from the floor. He didn’t scream. He didn’t speak.

He shoved the blade into the woman’s mouth and up, with a single violent thrust. The sound—wet, sharp, final—reverberated through the chamber as her legs kicked once, then went still. Her body sagged and collapsed, eyes still wide and unseeing. He didn’t hesitate. He didn’t flinch.

There was no humanity in his expression—only cold, surgical rage. Ivy felt herself trembling, bile rising in her throat as he dismembered another man, tearing limbs from sockets like he was undoing a machine, not a person. Guts slipped from torn stomachs. Blood sprayed in arcs across the monitors and floors. The walls that had once echoed with clinical commands now pulsed with a symphony of death.

And still—Vice kept going. This wasn’t blind violence. It was retribution. Calculated. Inevitable. They had succeeded, it wasn’t the perfect soldier though but a creature from the darkest part of their nightmares. And then… the images began to slow.

The screams faded. The blood seemed to hang midair like dust in the light. Ivy’s breath caught in her throat as the vision of Vice—covered in gore, still breathing hard—turned his head. His eyes locked onto hers. He saw her. And he started to walk toward her.

Her legs buckled. She tried to move, to run, but her body refused. She could only watch, frozen in place, as he crossed the blood-soaked floor with silent, heavy steps. Closer. Closer.

She flinched. Covered her face. Braced for the worst. But the figure passed right through her. And when she opened her eyes, he was gone. The room was still. Only her breath remained, ragged and trembling in the silence.

The scene shifted again, and she was no longer in the sterile lab but in a crumbling building, the air thick with dust and the scent of decay. The young man, who had once been a terrified child, stood tall and proud, a figure of darkness in a world of despair. He had grown into a creature of vengeance; each line of his body etched with the pain of his past. The scientists were gone, their screams replaced by the cries of those that were unfortunate to cross his path.

"Do you still think it was an accident?" he yelled, his voice echoing off the broken walls, the rage in his eyes burning brighter than any fire she had ever seen. "They made me this way! They took everything from me and turned me into this monster!"

Ivy stared at the man before her, her heart breaking for the little boy she had just watched suffer. "I'm sorry," she whispered, the words seemingly inadequate against the tide of his anger. "I had no idea."

Vice's eyes narrowed, the rage within them dimming slightly. "Sorry won't change what they did to me," he said, his voice a mix of pain and fury. "But perhaps it will make you understand why I am what I am."

The room shifted again, the images of the past fading away like a nightmare dissipating in the light of dawn. Ivy was left standing in the cold, empty chamber, her heart racing, and her mind reeling. She looked up at the creature before her, her eyes filled with a newfound empathy. "You didn't deserve that," she murmured, the words a mere whisper in the vast space between them. "You should have been protected, not used."

Vice's eyes searched hers, the anger in them slowly giving way to something else. Something softer, almost vulnerable. For a moment, she saw the little boy he had once been, the one who had begged for mercy that was never granted. "But I am what they made me," he said, his voice low and filled with a resignation that made her feel a sudden jolt of fear. "And now, you are a part of this world."

Ivy could feel a rage growing inside of her at his words. "Do you think you're special because someone hurt you? In this unforgiving world, pain is commonplace. People exploit others without hesitation, draining them dry and reveling in their destruction. This harsh reality persists, yet some wallow in self-pity instead of rising above it. To succumb to despair is a choice, not a destiny." Ivy challenged him, her sadness for him temporarily vanishing.

Ivy's eyes blazed with fury as she glared at Vice, her voice low and menacing. "You think you're some kind of god, don't you?" she spat, her words dripping with venom. "You think you can just use people, exploit them because you know no one will challenge you?

She took a step closer to him; her face twisted in a snarl. “You’ve hurt so many people, destroyed so many lives. And you know what? It's not enough. You want more people to hurt. Youwant to hurt me, what did I do to you? Nothing, all I wanted to do was to save someone's life. Now I'll suffer for it because of you're entitlement.”

Her voice was rising, her words tumbling out in a furious torrent. "You've taken everything from me, Vice. You've taken my family, my sense of security, my life! Tears streamed down her face.

Ivy's eyes searched his, looking for some hint of the boy she had seen in her vision. But all she found was the cold, calculating gaze of a monster. "What you're doing," she said, her voice trembling, "isn't okay. Isn't justice, it's murder."

Vice stepped closer to her. "What's right and wrong in this world?" he countered, his voice a low murmur that seemed to resonate through her very bones. "They took my childhood, my innocence. They turned me into a weapon, a tool to be used and discarded."

Ivy swallowed hard, the weight of his words heavy on her chest. "So how many innocent lives need to pay for their sins?" she asked, her voice a mix of anger and despair. "How many people must you destroy before you're satisfied?"

Vice leaned down, his breath hot against her ear. "As many as it takes to balance the scales," he murmured, his voice a seductive whisper that sent a shiver down her spine. "But that's not you're concern, is it?" He stepped away, leaving her trembling with a mix of fear and anticipation.

Her eyes searched the room, looking for any sign of escape. "You're no better than they were," she spat out, her voice filled with anger and conviction. "You hurt people just like they did."

Vice's face twisted with anger even colder at her accusation, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "You dare to compare me to them?" he hissed, his hand shooting out to grab her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. "I am not like them. I was forced into this, so now I choose who suffers, who lives and who dies." His grip tightened, his thumb pressing into her skin, a silent reminder of the power he held over her.

Ivy's eyes flashed with defiance, her body straining against his hold. "You're all the same," she screamed, trying to free herself from his iron grip. But it was as if she was fighting against a statue. "You're all monsters who hurt people because you can!" Her voice echoed through the chamber, a mix of rage and despair.

Vice's eyes narrowing as he studied her. "Is that what you think?" he asked, his voice a dangerous whisper. "That I'm just like them?" His hand tightened on her chin so tight she thought he'd crush her face at any moment.

Ivy's eyes filled with tears, but she didn't flinch away from his gaze. "You hurt people," she choked out, her voice trembling. "You take what isn't yours, you cause pain." She paused, her chest heaving with the effort to breathe. "But maybe, just maybe, there's still some good in you," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "Some part of that little boy that didn't deserve what they did."

Vice's grip on her chin tightened, his eyes searching hers. "You think you can save me?" he asked, his voice a mix of skepticism and something else.

"I don't need you to save me." "There's nothing to save." He spat. "You don't have to do this." She pleaded.

"Why not?" "I don't like to disappoint." In fact, I think that's a challenge."

Ivy's breath hitched. "What are you going to do?"