Not This Day
I laugh in their faces as they flip the switch once more, their faces becoming even more desperate and confused. Thousands of volts course through my body, yet though my clothing begins to char and smoke, the pain never comes. This is not their first attempt, and I’m sure it won’t be their last.
I am guilty of far worse than they know, and while I deserve death, even welcome it after a fashion, their feeble efforts to exact that ultimate punishment will never succeed. I become stronger with every bullet, every blade, rope, and injection. The time when such crude methods might have prevailed has long past, eons ago.
Soon, I will tire of this game as I always do. This silly charade will end, and I will finally reveal to them the truth. I’m eager for the resulting panic, the denial and disbelief, the urgent terror in their eyes when they truly understand the nature of what I have become.
Some day, somehow, I will die, but today is not that day, and there is far too much work to be done for the fun to end now.
No prequels yet. Why not write one?
No sequels yet. Why not write one?
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