"Asher! It’s so good to see you after all these years!”
The doctor stretched his hand out over the table to greet the man, only to retract it when met with a cold, piercing gaze.
“Why don’t we just move this along? I thought I was going to be talking to a psychiatrist.”
“In due time. I just thought that since it’s been so long…”
“What did you think this was going to be? A homecoming or some happy reunion? Let’s welcome Asher back to the facility where he experienced some of the worst…”
“Now Asher, please play nice,” A voice spoke over the intercom. “Dr. Ostrand means no ill will towards you. He was there to take care of you, just like we always were.”
It was a voice Asher hadn’t heard in years, but he immediately recognized it as the Director Robert Krane. More than any other voice he’d heard so far his was the most vivid, but also made him the most uncomfortable. Something about the timber in his voice made him want to recoil.
Asher scoffed at being told what to do, then took a deep breath as he ran his hands through his spiked blue hair. His chiseled jaw and facial scars contrasted to his young, elfin appearance. Sitting up straight, he folded his hands in a mockingly cordial fashion.
“Well then. So nice to see you doctor,” the biting sarcasm dripped from his lips. “Let me just tell you eeeeverything about me in this joyous reunion. Do you want to know if I still have nightmares? Because yes, I sure as hell do. Or maybe you want to know if I still get headaches and have trouble remembering things? Yes and yes, I do! Anything else you want to know?”
“Well, I was going to ask those questions, but I wanted to get a gist of your overall health. Just a brief snapshot for reference.”
“You mean outside of the obvious reason I’m here?”
“Yes, I wanted to do a basic physical first and then go into some of the more particular reasons.”
“Fine, let’s get this over with.”
After a series of pupil response tests, balance and posture, jotting down heart rates among other things, Asher was gestured back into his seat.
“Well, doc. Am I fit as a fiddle?”
“Yes, you are. It was to be expected though, considering your profession and your prowess.”
“Oh, don’t get coy on me now. Just say what you’re thinking. I’m the best assassin in Terralīs for a reason. For all I know, possibly in the world. That is, unless everyones been blowing smoke up my skirt all these years. So please..out with it. A girl that doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
Ostrand held back a slight chuckle.
“There is no doubt that your speeds cannot be matched by any human or elf known. Your readings are off the charts. NOSRAD (The Northern Organization for Scientific Research and Development) didn’t send you to military school for nothing.”
“You mean when they sold me to Minerva?”
“I’m sure it felt that way, Asher, but please understand that everything was done for your good. And the greater good.”
“Greater good?” He let out a guffaw. “Is that what you call trading vulnerable people’s freedoms for food and shelter? Then you experiment on them? My mother and brother would disagree.”
Dr. Ostrand almost pointed out that Asher’s mother willingly agreed to the program, but decided best against it.
“I’m sorry for your loss, Asher. I truly am.”
Asher’s scrutinization of the doctor waned and he nodded in agreeance. His eyes softened as he looked into the corner for a moment of reflection. It was the first time since he could remember that someone in the science or military division had shown any hint of compassion for him.
Well, except for Sade. He was a good one…
“So…what else do you want to know?”
“Let’s talk about the actual reason you’re here. When was the first time you had what you referred to as the…urges?”
“To be honest, I'm not sure. When you kill for a living they seem to just sort of…meld together. Time feels irrelevant.”
“Do you remember those you’ve killed? On your missions?”
“I remember every face. I couldn’t tell you their names. And I already know you're going to ask me why so I’ll go ahead and say it—I honestly don't know why. I've never really thought about it because it’s not the sort of thing you like to think about. I push it into the back of my mind for as long as I can. Something tells me that if I just ignore it then maybe it will go away, but that’s never true. Maybe it’s just ingrained in me.”
At this, there was a strange glaze in Asher’s eyes that shifted the atmosphere in the room. Dr Ostrand lifted an eyebrow and scribbled furiously. Armed guards watched them through a viewing window, ready at a moment’s notice.
"So…what you’re saying is that you normally don't feel anything? The killings aren’t exciting?"
"No, but I feel better afterwards. I suppose I feel more…complete somehow. Although ‘complete’ doesn’t quite explain it. It’s more like…feeling less empty. In the moment when someone dies there’s a sort of a light that leaves their eyes. It’s actually quite beautiful in a morose sort of way.”
Asher’s ice blue eyes bore into the doctor’s and yet seemed far away, as if reminiscing. Dr. Ostrand shifted in his chair, unable to meet the half-elf’s gaze.
“I think it’s the pressure.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Maybe I was too poetic a moment ago. You see there’s this sort of um…pressure inside me. It’s only relieved once I’ve killed someone. When that light leaves their eyes it’s as if their death heals me and all that pressure is gone. After that, it’s just a matter of time before the urge haunts me again. And when I’m ready to kill—and I mean reeeaaally ready—it’s like a powderkeg inside waiting to blow at the slightest spark.”
“So you are able to keep it under control.”
“…barely.”
“Well then, this has been very insightful already. It’s very fair to say what you've described is abnormal."
Asher grinned, somewhat amused at the doctor’s uncomfortable posture. The doctor jotted more notes down, pushing his glasses further onto his nose.
"I suppose you think me a monster. Isn't that what your reports will say?”
"Not as such. I’m here simply to help and I want to understand you and your nature just as much as your appointed psychologist will. You are searching for answers, yes? Wanting to learn who you are? What makes you tick?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Can I also ask…what made you come here? Why now of all the times?”
“I, I don’t know. Maybe it’s just gotten to be too much. But why does it really matter to Minerva or NOSRAD that I have this affliction? Or does it only matter because I quit my last assignment from it?”
“I can’t speak on behalf of either. But you’ve shown that you have no qualms with combat considering what you’ve been doing these years. It was obvious from your days in military school that utilizing your talents made the most sense. Yet, we were never aware that you had this…inclination for death. Luckily, we found the perfect job for you to keep it under control."
“Well you can just just pat yourself on the back, then.”
“You will be asked these some type of questions when your psychologist and psychiatrist speaks with you. I will assist in any way that I can and it is of the utmost importance that I know your progress. It will take the effort of all us here at NOSRAD to help you.”
“Ah yes. It takes a village, isn’t that what they say? Does it take a village to keep me on track so I can kill for Minerva again? Isn’t that what you’re all really concerned about? Worried that my urges might get in the way of my mission? Or that I lose control and made you all look bad?”
“As I see it, we are responsible for your actions even though you haven’t been with us in years. You were raised here for some time and we need to be sure that we do it better next time. And Minerva is of course wanting all the information from us as well.”
Asher thought back to his childhood, and through the hazy mists of it all, there most definitely was pain. It was nebulous and he couldn’t say exactly what transpired here, but he could feel in his core that none of it was good.
“What about the other patients here. What of their stories? How many of them have you helped? How many make it out into the real world? I was institutionalized and had to learn about how things worked out there as I went. It was hard, but I made it work. What about the others?”
“You know I can’t dicuss other patients’ files with you. The most important question for us right now is this: do you think you can keep it under control long enough for us to help you?”
“You know that I can’t answer that.”
“Should we take cautionary measures then?”
Asher scrutinized the doctor for a moment and noticed Ostrand’s eyes flitting over to the straight jacket that hung nearby.
“I swear if you try to put that thing on me you’re going to have a very bad day.”
“No, not at all! I was only thinking only if you were comfortable with it and if you felt that you needed it we could...”
“No. Continue.”
“So, uhm…my next question…is there any civilian people that you’ve killed? Do we need to worry about anyone being found?”
After contemplating his answer, Asher said “no.”
It was a lie.
“That’s good. If there were, we just wanted to alert any authorities that they can rest comfortably knowing their Bogeyman has been caught.”
“Oh, so I’m a Bogeyman now?”
“I don’t know. Are you?”
He simply stayed silent, not truly knowing the answer and decided to pivot instead.
“That’s cute. I bet you were hoping I’d killed someone just so that you culd take the credit for my apprehension. They do so love to play the hero.”
“If you rolled your eyes any harder they may get stuck there.”
“And what condition is that, doctor? Look, we both know what our government is capable of, no sense in pretending. They are funny, though. The idea of me being under their control right now has got me in stitches. I’m here on my own recognizance, and that is the truth. But they…they live for propaganda and lies.”
“Why are you so distrustful of NOSRAD and Minerva? I mean, do you even hear yourself? You want to kill people…that’s hardly a thing to cast judgement on others for.”
"The nerve of you to defend them. You know as well as I do that no one would be interested in me if I wasn’t so good at what I do. You all see my worth in something terrible and that’s not something I trust well. And to answer your other question…yes, I’ve killed but I’ve killed at request of our government and they were happy for me to do it. The difference between me and all of you…at least I’m honest about what I am now.”
“Well, I’m glad to see that you’ve been enlightened along the way.”
“You know…if I was so inclined, I could reach across this table and end you before you even perceived me as a threat. But that wouldn’t be enough fun. Just for you, I’d have to take a moment to delight in your increased heart rate, listen to your ragged breathing as I held your pathetic form within my grasp. Then…and only then…I’d snap that pencil neck of yours. The only regret would be that I didn’t do it sooner.”
Dr. Ostrand smiled nervously, but Asher maintained his cold stare. He loved playing with the doctor, as he had no idea that Asher loathed killing inofitself.
"Would you truly do this for such a simple thing?”
Asher leaned forward and fought the urge to get up. Despite the lack of noise, the sincerity in Asher’s eyes seemed to make the room quieter. The doctor’s blood ran cold, and he feared for a moment that Asher may actually kill him.
"You want to try your luck.”
“Easy, Asher.”
“How about this, doctor? Before I decide to end your life, tell me why NOSRAD is so interested in my blood. I keep hearing whispers about it. Why is it so special?”
"We're testing it in case there’s something special. As in something biological that could tell us more about your condition. I’m glad you brought this up because I also wanted to ask you about your memory. I know that you’ve said you can’t remembering many things. There are some past notes that say your memory is the worst right before and after your Injection procedure. How much do you remember about it now?”
“Injection procedure? That doesn’t sound familiar at all to me.”
The word “Injection” itself set Asher on edge, yet he couldn’t explain why.
“It was the catalyst for the skills you possess today, you know. It was quite remarkable. You would have been around 14 years old.”
“I, uh—”
Asher pushed his mind back to earlier memories but it fell upon a thick fog. The more he thought about it, the more it made his head swim and his palms began to sweat.
“I…I don’t know.”
“That’s okay, no need to worry. Do you know anything about the Nephilim?”
“Please continue on to another subject, it is irrelevant,” The Diretor’s voice returned on the intercom.
Dr. Ostrand nodded and gave a forced smile.
“Never mind that then. Asher, can you tell us your earliest memory? Think back as far as you can go.”
Asher furrowed his brow in suspicion, but decided against pressing the point.
"If you insist. My earliest memory…is about my mother."
"Really?"
"I was around twelve years old, and I was standing beside her bed. There was that sound. That terrible incessant beeping of the heart monitor. It never stopped reminding me how slow her heart rate was. I remember the bright lights of the room, reflecting the white walls and almost blinding me. I wondered if where she was going would be such a bright place too. She had contracted a disease, only a year before my older brother died from the same. I had to be quarantined from him to be sure I didn’t get it so I couldn’t even see him. It was like he just…disappeared.”
“Asher…”
“It’s alright, it was a while ago. Mother’s health had faded quickly in the last months. For some reason, I seemed to be immune to whatever it was. Perhaps that’s why my blood is so important…huh. I’d never thought about that til now. Anyway, NOSRAD did all they could, but it still wasn’t enough.
"I remember feeling so helpless and only able to watch as she withered away. It was devastating...my brother and I were the only family I had. As you already know, she was pregnant when she first came here to seek refuge from my abusive father. She made that accursed deal to provide for us because she had been so dependont on my father. It was the only way she could think for us to survive. Now I understand that surviving and living are not the same.”
"What made her decide to come all the way to Nostromus? She had friends and family in Latheria, did she not?”
“Not that she could go to. She was estranged her from her family, which is odd considering they were elvish. But you know how people in Latheria are, especially elves.”
“What exactly?”
“Annoyingly traditional. She was shunned because her lifestyle was deemed ‘adulterous’ or ‘ungodly’ so they told her to sleep in the bed she made. They didn’t even account that she was young and naive, allowing herself to fall in love with a Sapian who was nothing less than a brute. She tried desperately to make it work and marry him to make it better, but our father refused to marry her. I suppose he planned to throw her away when he felt done wit her. He least supported her…somewhat. When he became more violent she knew it was time to leave. So she ended up in here in Nostromus after she learned of the program that NOSRAD offered. It seemed the best decision to ensure a life for us.”
“That must have been hard.”
“It was. But mother always had the ability to keep everything positive for us, fun even. For me, it was easier because I didn’t know any better. I was only a year old when I came here. The lack of freedom was burdensome for two young boys who needed to explore. She made the best out of a strange upbringing. Before she went, she had enough strength to hold one last conversation with me."
"What did she say?"
"She said that of all the mistakes in her life, Ian and I were the few things that she did right. Being a mother gave her so much more joy than the false promises of romantic love. She said that we were growing up so fast, and because I was smart that NOSRAD could help me get to any school I wanted and that I had a great life ahead of me. That was a lie…but there was no way she could know. She truly hoped it would be true. She asked me to do one last thing for her.”
“What was that?”
“ To sing her a song. You wouldn’t think it by looking at me but I’m not too shabby. The song was this old Gaelic tune her mother sang to her and she’d sung to us as infants. It was simple...sweet and pure...as if it poured out from the soul. And just as I got to the end of the last verse...her monitor flat-lined.....and…"
Asher paused for a moment, and the doctor was floored to see the assassin was on the verge of breaking down. His face was set in stone, but his lip quivered ever so slightly. Against everything he assumed, the doctor realized that Asher was not the emotionless archetype of a serial killer. He was something different.
"It was a long time before I let go of her hand. Even as the doctors rushed in to try and revive her, I wouldn’t—no, I couldn’t let her go. I think a part of me died along with her that day.”
Asher trailed off, and an entire minute went by in silence before the doctor spoke again.
"I think that'll be enough for now. We can pick this up another time."
Ostrand’s soft tone made Asher grateful that someone seemed to care. And even if the doctor was pretending, he was grateful for the courtesy.
"Thank you. That’s probably best."
The doctor stood up and pressed a button on the intercom.
"We’re done for now.”
A guard came in and led Asher away to his cell while a man in a lab coat escorted Dr. Ostrand out.
“Dr. Pennington,” Ostrand nodded formally.
The doctors walked through a series of corridors in silence, their footfalls and the swipe of a security card the only sound.
"So, Dr. Pennington...does Krane never plan on telling Asher the truth about his heritage? I mean, don't you think telling him now rather than later would be easier? If he knows we’re lying to him, wouldn't that potentially set him off?"
"Perhaps it would, but he won't find out. If he knew anything close to what we know, we’d be in pieces by now. We took great lengths to see that he can be ‘managed’ if need be. We need his trust right now and must do all we can to keep it that way. That's why we've destroyed all the files related to him.”
“That’s probably for the best then. Is it true that he can get out if he wants?”
“Of course he can. There’s no way we could have gotten him here by force. We'll keep him here on the pretense of him getting better. If the therapy works and he’s willing to work again, we can release him back into the field with Minerva doing what he does best. If he’s unwilling to go, we'll simply tell him that he's sick and needs our help until we figure out what to do with him."
"If he's that dangerous, why don't we just kill him?"
"Kill him? Sure you jest! Do you know how many subjects we had to dispose of to just find someone compatible with the Injection? We stumbled onto one of the greatest discoveries of the century, a serum to create a super soldier, and you suggest we just throw it away? Hardly! Asher is not expendable until we can find other candidates. We just have to replicate the success with others.”
“What about The Rainmaker—”
“Do not speak of him! What good is an assassin when he can only work in the shadows so he won’t scare everyone within a mile’s radius!?? That is not what we consider a success. But he will pick up on Asher’s missed assignments. We could try and brainwash Asher again if needed but we'd prefer not to. Having Asher as a willing participant is the best case scenario right now."
"I see…"
“Now, don’t look so cross about it. You know this is all for the greater good. For science he will prove as the greatest subject for advancement. Those he's put in the grave for Minerva has done our country a great service."
"I suppose you're right."
"So glad to see that you're on board! By the way, I do want to say that your session with him went much better than expected. Keep up the good work, Dr. Ostrand."
"Thank you. You know, Asher was genuinely hurt by his mother's death more than I thought. I imagined with his memory issues that he would have forgotten, but something that deep never goes away.”
"As much as I would like to say that he still maintains his humanity, I retain the notion that he could still be a lost cause. He has a sordid history of aggression and murder. Do you not remember the fights he got into at military school?”
“I hadn’t read that deep into his time with Minerva.”
“That was the other side of him creeping out and he learned to suppress it. Never forget that sociopaths can hide in plain sight. I think whatever emotional being Asher was died with him after his Injection procedure. Just because his memory is spotty doesn’t mean he’s stupid. Part of his training was learning to deceive others...never forget that."
"Quite true. I take I’ll see you tomorrow?"
"Yes, and before you go, Director Krane wants to have a word with you."
11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡA2FJxJLV2I
11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhPh9zVMjx6
11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEeiCBWUK6X
Later that night, Asher sat stoic in his cell, staring at the padded walls and the large iron door. He smiled, imagining how he would unleash a fury on all the workers, scientists, and burn everything to the ground.
But...it would have to wait.
It did seem an excessive thing to do when he couldn’t fully remember everything. All he knew was that certain stimuli would trigger something within him. This place felt more like a prison than a laboratory…or something worse.
He needed time to find out more, and for now his bloodlust was in check. The desire was a very dull ache in the back of his mind, lying dormant. The sleeping dog would lie...for now.
As a shadow passed over his cell, his keen eyes caught a small, white rectangle being scooted under the doorframe. He walked over and picked up the slip of paper. To his delight, it was just as he’d guessed. The note read:
11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡffBor1Cair
"I am looking further into your inquiry. They will never tell you everything. Just be patient and cooperate. You will be a welcome distraction while I do my own work.
Once I find out what you want to know, feel free to do as you wish. For now, keep doing as you are now.
Sincerely,
A Friend"
11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡf7oBow682t
"Excellent," he thought.
Balling up the piece of paper, he held it in his hand and focused his thoughts while speaking an arcane language under his breath. A red light appeared through the crevices of his fingers and the paper incinerated to ash.
Things were going exactly as they should...for now.
For a moment, he pondered over the story of his mother's death. Rage and anger were the only emotions he could muster for the past twelve years, but he was surprised at how fresh the hurt from his mother's passing was. Even the doctor was surprised at Asher’s reaction, as if he thought Asher was some mindless killing machine.
What the doctor didn’t know was that the memory he had at his mother’s deathbed was the only complete one he could conjure. The rest was all bits and pieces, and he could only remember general facts about his family’s situation. So he told them just enough to satiate them.
He sat for a moment in silence while intently trying to remember anything from his childhood. But much like before, it all slipped away like a fleeting, distant dream. The dull throbbing in his cranium turned into a sharp pain, and he stopped.
What the help did they do to me?
“Mother, I’m sorry. I wish I could remember you better. Forgive me…”
Thirty minutes later, his mind finally shut off and he fell into a deep sleep. Unknown to him, a small tear pushed itself from under his eyelid and trickled down his face, quietly dripping to the floor…
and then Add to home screen.