"Waaaakeeee Wakkkeee, Egggs and Baccccceeeeee..." Those were the words that rang for a moment as a loud slapping noise hit through the dungeon's dark and echoing acoustics. A Small light shined over the man of the hour for a moment, Revealing a young man, Black hair with a small white streak running through it for just a moment, A Pair of stunning blue eyes. You could see easily the blood stains that were just hiding under the surface of his eyes for a moment. He was covered over in a white tank top, Partially stripped down with a pair of jeans on, An Iron Cross Necklace and a long wound that slashed across his chest and his clothing for a moment. He regained consciousness to find himself enshrouded in darkness, His hands tied to the arm rests of a chair and a bit of blood seeping from his hit. Out of the darkness came a sickly man covered in a strange dark black uniform, Heavy Callused fists were balled up as he stared at the Amnesiac for a moment. "Well look who finally woke up, Sleeping M!cksh*t..." For a moment the man finally turned up, Rolling his eyes as he said in a familiar yet quite foreign Irish accent, With the most elegant choice of words possible... "F*ck you." Before letting out a stream of blood spit onto the face of the man. "Ohhhhh, Buddy you just made the wors-" He was interrupted by the sound of a voice, Loud with a incredibly low tone. It was apparent whomever was speaking was using a voice modifier "Ramirez! Calm down! We have to have him in good condition." The Strapped man's paranoia was growing ever so strongly, For some reason he felt his emotions rage. For a brief yell he said "WHO. THE. F*CK ARE YOU!?" A Yell was repeated for a moment as the man ran out of control. He noticed finally as a pair of lights turned on above him, Allowing him to see not only he was hooked up in a small, Almost torture room like area to an multiple machines measuring him, Each of their almost unreadable numbers spinning to him as he began struggling his hands more to get out. He turned his head up to see a floor above, Through a glass window a dark silhouette of a man appeared speaking into a microphone "CONTROL YOURSELF!...Listen Sir. We have to do some questioning for you, Examine your memories for today" For a moment he began yelling again before finally giving in, Restraining himself just as another similarly dressed man to Ramirez walked in.
"Okay Sir, Allow me to explain. You are Cain O'Panell of Dublin Ireland, Or as we refer to you formally, Project X or Project Ten...Recently we had trouble with you, You escaped from our program for a full day..Cain! Try to think of what you did..." For a moment, Three Lone scenes were painted in the Schizophrenic's mind. He had began to remember his place here, He was being trained for something but he couldn't remember what. He had been known for severe mental conditions. Continuing on, He noticed the two men hook up some strange devices to the sides of his head while he thought for a moment...
First he sat in a room, Covered by smoke with a tall glass of beer..Guinness in one hand and a cigarette in the other. He held his head firmly against his hand as then the moment caught up to him, He felt depression and out of body experiences as constantly he shifted from in his mind wallowing in pain, And guzzling it down as fast as he could. He soon revealed to be in a hotel bar of some kind, As shown by the man behind it walking up to him and giving him a refill, Solely as he began yelling for it. He was in a violent mood right now and his sins
For his Second Memory, He was leaned against the balcony of a hotel room. His sleep deprived eyes blended in with the darkness as the faint glow of his cigarette lit up the late night insomniac move. He was wearing only a pair of plaid red boxer shorts and a less then happy grin on his face. He continued wandering, Being far too tired to fall asleep as he kept thinking about his future. Finally he gave in for just a moment as he turned back to his hotel bed where a blonde haired woman he had convinced into joining him for a night was sleeping with a content smile on her face.
Finally he was fully dressed, Rushing into the hotel bathroom for a moment, His black jacket covering his usual T-Shirt for a moment as he locked the door. He stared at the mirror for a moment, His mental health shot itself right there as he ran in, Noticing the three stalls and one urinal filled. He pulled out one of his few trademark weapons, A Customized Desert Eagle (But with only half the magazine left) silencer attached as he raised it upwards. His fingers wrapped around the handle and the trigger for a moment. His breaths were heavy and his gloved palms let out long strokes of sweat as he swayed the gun just lightly towards the head of the first man. He was remorseless and cold, His programming was malfunctioning. He was intended to be a killer of those selected, Well this time he would be a killer of those he selected, And sadly he was insane. The first shot rang off as it smashed the man's brains out, The fifty caliber bullet turning his head into a meat stew as with an almost robotic movement he placed the barrel of the gun near the side of a stall, Taking a fire again as the bullet smashed through the thin metal with a loud clang and pierced through the metal covering, Just he moved onto kick down the next stall, Unleashing a series of bullets resulting in the man's torso being torn to shreds. Finally the last one began running out, Just desperately escaping the bathroom turned killing field, Only to be met by a fifty caliber bullet slamming into his neck, Just being a bit away from decapitating him.
A Smirk appeared on the now crimson masked Assassin as he put the gun down. The feeling of joy from the murder passed and now the depression and regret kicked in. His hands shaked and vibrated with intensity as he placed the gun in the sink, Running his hands through his hair just lightly, Turning on the sink and splashing water over his crimson covered face. He panicked for just a moment, Giving himself a light slap for a moment as he turned back up to see the man in the mirror. This wasn't him...This was some kind of machine, Someone trained to no longer be the human being he was. He was controlled by numbers and drugs, not emotions and morals. He had to get rid of it...
He grabbed the gun for just a second, moving it upwards just as he placed the barrel inside his mouth, His lips wrapping around it for just a second as he took one last look at himself.
Click! He was shocked for a moment as he squeezed desperately, Only to find this same, Empty sound repeating over and over and over again. He became angered easily, Slapping himself again as he placed his hands in his shaggy hair, Pacing back and forth. His panicking was becoming immense and quickly as he walked through the puddles of blood, His legs were swarmed in it as his psyche finally got to express itself. In this past twenty four hours back in life he had slept with a woman for the first time in years, he had gotten drunk finally after a year or so of waiting and now...Now he was finally happy. Something wasn't right in his mind, Something was broken and he wanted to fix it, Problem is...He didn't know what to fix.
He decided to lash out one last time, Grabbing his left hands fingers and covering them with the sea of blood he walked upon, Graffiti all over the walls what appeared to be gibberish, Useless nonsense, Babble and occasional random words. These were what he could express his non stop train wreck of a psyche. After an hour in there he finally finished, Grabbing a razor from one of the men's pockets, He slowly danced the blade over his right hand, Allowing blood to fall out at a fast past before finally slapping the mirror, Leaving a blood covered imprint of his own self. Cain could finally leave.
The men began to examine his thoughts for a moment on a machine, They noticed his recollections included...Sexual Encounters, Substance Abuse and Homicide. These were signs he was failing as a project, Or so the Silhouetted man thought. He gave one finally order as the two men that were restraining to him drew closer to Cain "Demetri! Ramirez! He's went haywire according to this reading...Execute him!" One of the henchmen gave a nod for a moment as he said back in a Russian accent "Da. My Pleasure..." Cain began panicking more and more, His arms were flying upwards, Just slowly making his bindings loosen a bit as he panicked "NO! F*CKING NO! YOU CAN'T KILL ME!" Ramirez quickly grabbed his arms, Trying to restrain him whilst Demetri removed a .44 Magnum from a shoulder holster removing it and just lightly placing the barrel towards Cain's head. But that was when something happened again...It all came together. All of his training, Every last ounce of his adrenaline and strength came up as he gave one final push, The nails and leather falling off. His arms and legs were free just in time to pull Ramirez towards him in front of the gun, Causing a bullet to shoot into Ramirez's knee cap. Quickly Cain grabbed the revolver running up to find three armed guards busting down the door. Immediately he fired off a shot, Smashing through the helmet of one, And barrel rolled behind a machine, Firing a bullet which somehow he was able to curve directly through the second man's head and smash through third man's helmet. He began running immediately, The sounds of alarms going off just as he picked up the shotgun of one of the guards. He bursted down the halls towards the armory with expertise, He showed more skill in fighting then rarely any men or women have ever spent their entire lives on, Gunning down soldiers relentlessly. Finally The Serotonin Soldier reached his desired locker, Shooting off the door to find his most important possessions. His Dark Leather jacket, A Bullet Proof vest, His two custom Desert Eagles (Typhoid and Mary), His Adamantium Bowie knife, Various gadgets, His AK-47 and keys to a Harley Davidson Motorcycle. He rushed to the parking lot outdoors where it was kept, Expertly blasting apart the guards still being chased, And finally came through to find his sleek black beauty. He hoped on it for just a moment, Putting on his clothes as he seemingly lost his followers. He finally removed Marlboro and a zippo from his jacket, Carefully lighting up the cigarette and taking off on the motorcycle, Speeding out of the strange facility. He smiled as he breathed in the fresh air. He took in a quick puff of his cigarette and noticed the troops that were chasing him finally lost track. He noticed a dog tag attached under his shirt it read his Name, Cain O'Panell and his code name...Serotonin.
"I Like that."
(Alright thanks guys! What do you all think? If the very last part feels rushed well it is XD)