Conscience of a Dove

She stepped in after Alice, doing a quick turn to look about the room. It was indeed dark, but she figured any room will be with the lights off, anyways, and she was just in there to sleep, so there was no need to be taken off-balance by it. Her friend liked the dark colors, anyways, and there was no need to rudely suggest such a thing to be changed when this was her own home. She had no problem with it though, of course. It was like Yin and Yang, but in a completing sort of way. Can't be light without dark, peace without war, these kinds of things. She climbed up into the bed, the springs creaking faintly as any normal bed would do as she crawled under the covers, settling into the sleep-embracing furniture and blankets.

(I have acquired words.)
 
( I am happy for your finding of words.)

Alice pulled the bedspread over Wren, giving a small laugh. She was a blotch of white lost in a sea of black. "Sleep well, Wren," She said, with a serious face, "May your dreams be sweet and filled with light." Alice moved towards the door. She went to flick off the lights and paused. "Is there anything else you need?" She asked, a bit reluctant to leave Wren in the dark.

(Up for some memory nightmares?)
 
"Ah..." She shuffled under her comforting spot in the bed, thinking for a moment. She came up empty on actually needing anything with a solid form, she had been given all that she needed tonight. A nice bed, an abode to live in, companions, sustenance, she couldn't think of much more. Either way, she was tired, felt no need to stay awake all that much longer to bug Alice. So she just smiled, chiming a good-hearted request. "Just for you to have yourself some good dreams, too. Sleep well, okay?"

(Sounds like a fantastic idea, actually.)
 
Laying quietly on the bed, flat on his back, Lance stared hard at the ceiling through the darkness. The muffled sounds of his companions could be heard drifting through the wall, containing a few clear words. From what he could discern, Alice was being a gracious host, attending to the needs of her tenant. And Wren, ever the sweetheart, was giving her usual kind and considerate replies. Lance smiled to himself, shaking his head lightly. If that girl had a speech bubble, it would be made of cotton candy flavored bubble gum. The smile faded quickly. Going through the list of residents brought him to the one he hadn't mentioned: himself.

As soon as his thoughts wandered to his whole wretched situation, a question wormed its way in as well. What was he doing here? He was neither gracious, nor sweet. He was just a stale waste of flesh. A drain on resources. An emotional wreck. A beggar, who thought he could be a chooser of his own fate. Rolling over on his side, he exhaled heavily. How could he sleep like this? Sleep requires people to be at peace with themselves. Groping in the darkness, Lance clutched a corner of his sheet tightly. He was most certainly not. He began squeezing. As hard as he could. As if the harder he squeezed, the better things would become.

Clenching his teeth, letting out a muffled growl, Lance squeezed as tightly as he ever had. Suddenly, a zing of pain erupted in his hand. Releasing the sheet gently, he felt it stick to his palm. His hand was slightly wet and warm. Blood, obviously. Sitting up, Lance scooted over and sat on the very edge of the mattress, ignoring his self-inflicted wound. If Alice saw him now, she'd tell him to stop being so dramatic. A depressed laugh escaped his lips. That's what he needed to hear, frankly. A pity party never solves anything. And yet here he was, choreographing his own soap opera. Pathetic.

Standing up, Lance crept over to the door, opening it slowly. It creaked a little, but nothing that would wake anyone. Covering his hand carefully, Lance wandered into the bathroom. Leaving the door slightly ajar, he leaned against the sink, turning the faucet on with his good hand. Placing a little soap on his palm, Lance began to rinse the blood off. As he did, a soft sob rocked his whole form. Shaking, he let the tears flow. He didn't know why he was sad all of a sudden. It must have been building up for a while now. All he knew is that he had to do something. He had to redeem himself. Not only in the minds of others, but also in his own mind. He had to do something that would make up for all of his failures. Something that would make him feel normal again. Sitting down on the toilet, Lance placed his head in his hands.

He needed to get over it. All of this sobbing and sadness. It was time to move on. Looking up, cries subsiding a little, Lance reached for some toilet paper. When he was a kid, Lances father would always pull him aside when he would cry. Holding his arms tightly, his father would say: "Hey there little man......what's with all the fuss? Ain't no need to be upset like this. Things get hard sometimes, son. Your daddy knows that. Your daddy has been through some hard times too. But your daddy also knows how tough you are. How brave you are. Can you show your daddy how tough and brave you are?" Wiping his eyes, he tossed the wet wad into the trash. Though the memory was addressed to him as a child, he still thought of it during his hard knocks as an adult.

Sniffing, Lance shook himself. Perhaps tomorrow would be the day when it would all change. Heart warming at the thought, Lance stood up. Perhaps tomorrow would be the day when the old man died and the new man took his place. Eyes brightening, though red and puffy, he crept out of the bathroom. Comfort building with every step he took, Lance made his way over to Alices room. Cracking the door, he peeked his head through. Whispering into the dark, Lance said, "Wren? Alice?"
 
"Finished feeling sorry for yourself?" Alice asked coldly, she was on the couch, her hands hovering over the keys on her laptop, "I'd appreciate it if you didn't wake her. She needs her sleep and it's the middle of the bloody night." Alice had been working when she heard his commotion, not to mention seeing him shuffle to the bathroom like a handicapped old man. Frankly, she didn't like being disturbed in the darkness of the night.
 
She lie in darkness for a while, listening of the sounds of the house. She heard a faint sobbing from the bathroom, the cry of Lance, the voice that belonged to Alice. She quietly thought she could be a little nicer to him. Of course he acted as though he hadn't a problem with the insults. She felt a little bad for the disdain she had shown him at first, too; she had been in the same situation as he was, basically. It wasn't really of good thought to be to judging of him. She yawned slightly, tugging the covers over her a little more. She was tired, and decided that she'd had enough with thinking over the day. Exhaustion was no state to stay in, she figured, rolling over. Wren had fallen asleep nearly on command, then, the comfort of the bed had seen to that.
 
Looking up with a flash of anger, Lance narrowed his eyes. Ever since he had met Alice, she had been like this. Though kind in action, her words were as piercing as knives. Only when she was talking with him, that was. Wren was a much different story. Alice treated her like her own child, cooing over her like a mother dove would over its chick. And that was fine and dandy. But Lance, on the other hand, was the ugly duckling of the family. The one was tolerated. Who would do the world a favor if he would just shut up and sit in the corner, because everything he had been given at this point was out of the kindness of others hearts. Clenching his fists, Lance exhaled, controlling the outrage that boiled up within him. "Well, I'm terribly sorry." he said as kindly as he could, despite his emotions. "I was simply going to inform everyone that I'm leaving tonight. I've stayed long enough, and I have something I need to do. You have a young and innocent girl to look after, and you don't need a grown man mucking things up. Please don't tell me to stay. And please don't throw any snide remarks my way, because I've had as much of them as I can take."

His voice had gotten slighly louder towards the end of his sentence, without him taking notice. Walking back towards the room and entering, he began throwing his donated clothes off in haste, slipping back into his old rags. Folding the new clothes neatly, he placed them on the bed. Talking as he strode briskly towards the door, Lance said, "The clothes you gave me are on the bed, which is made. You won't even remember I was here." Without even a glance back to Alice, slipping on his old and smely boots a little more slowly, Lance inhaled deeply. He knew he was making a terrible decision. Leaving the one place of security he had had in 4 years, all because he was having an emotional breakdown. It was madness, and it was immature. But he couldn't bear to think of staying in this house a second longer. To think of plaguing this place with his drama and insecurity. No. Maybe one day he would be ready. But he had so much to figure out in his head still. And these girls were not exactly psychologists.

Opening the door, Lance looked back briefly, looking directly into Alices cold expression. Smiling half-heartedly, he put his hands into his pockets and spoke. "Well, here's goodbye. If you two ever need me for anything, you'll know where to find me. I'll always be there to help. But until I've sorted out the skeletons in my closet, I don't think I'll be ready for what you guys have offered me here. That being the case.......I'd like to say thanks a million to you. For your kind actions, and your honest and blunt words. It was nice to have met someone who isn't afraid to be real with you, even if it hurts. Never change that about yourself." Stammering a bit, Lance looked down, and added, "So....uhh....stay safe, and take care of yourselves." With that, he stepped out and shut the door.
 
"Just be sure to be back before breakfast," Alice called with more than a hint of contempt in her voice, "Or you won't get a bite to eat until lunch!" Fool, She thought, turning back to her laptop, I wouldn't have brought you here in the first place if I didn't need you. How do you expect me to look after her on my own? The only thing I can do that is remotely useful is destroying everything and everybody around me. Heh, you're probably the only military veteran I'll ever meet that couldn't take a few harsh words. Most of you guys even prefer it that way. Alice shut her laptop a few minutes later, done with work for the night. Instead of sleeping, though, she thought of the story she had told Wren and what happened after the Princess found the demon.
 
(I beg your forgivness once again comrades, I just got done celebrating my cousins birthday and went to church shortly after that. But now, I'm back. WITH A VENGEANCE. And a sad lack of bacon, seeing as Shadowheart is hogging it all. *nibbles muffin and sips some coffee* Ah well. I suppose I'll just suffer in silence.)

Lance turned back to the door, Alice's final reply cutting through the wood as if it wasn't even there. A smirk played across his face. She really was stubborn. But she was an anchor of sorts. She may not have had any personal experience with fixing other people, seeing as she had her own darkness. But it was that darkness that made her such a healer. She understood what it meant to suffer. And therefore, she also understood how to cut past the crap and just suffer out loud. No need to bottle it all inside. Brushing his newly-groomed hair out of his face and turning towards the gloomy hallway, Lance wiped his forehead. A cold sweat had sprung out of his pores, causing him to itch. The task he was about to perform was nerve racking. Yet, it was liberating at the same time. Lance began walking, heading towards the buildings front entrance. Vengeance was not usually his cup of tea. But it had to be done. He had to lay his grief to rest. And this was the only way he knew how.

After the goons who had robbed his house had finished their pilfering, they had stopped and taken the time to play a sadistic game. They were foreigners, of an ethnicity Lance had been too enraged at the time to recognize. They had Russian drawls though, and carried a Ukrainian dialect. That much he knew. Military experience. They also smelled heavily of liquor and motor oil. Probably worked in a scrap shop, illegally stripping vehicles for cash. They most certainly were the type. These men had incapacitated Lance when they arrived, resorting to a sneak attack. Lance had been in the kitchen, preparing a light snack for the family. He only remembered that he had been humming softly, chopping celery and filling some small dishes with peanut butter, when a large thud filled his ears. Then blackness.

When he awoke, his home was stripped. A skeleton. The robbers were seated in front of him. One looked to the other as Lance blearily opened his eyes. "Он бодрствующ." He said in a deep voice, nudging his companion with the barrel of his colt 45. Lance knew a small amount of Russian, and percieved he was informing the other that he had awoken. The other was of smaller build. Obviously the cunning one of the group. Cocking his weapon loudly, he proceeded to speak. "Vyelcom back toze party. Joost in time for our lettle game we prepyared for you." Pointing his weapon towards the door, the Russian drew his attention to what was there. With horror, he saw his wife and child, kneeling on the floor. Sacks were over their heads and thier hands were bound tightly. His wife was holding Isabellas hand, whispering consolations to her. Lance struggled at his binds. A look of pure hatred filled his eyes as he looked back to the Russian piece of trash.

As he looked into those cold and heartless eyes, he had vowed one thing. One day he would find them both. And one day he would make them pay. And when Lance had entered the Ebony District, walking beside Alice and Wren, he had seen two men. Strangely familiar, he had thought. They were smoking cigarretes at a nearby home. Speaking to each other in Russian. It hadn't crossed his mind at the time. But after going through his periodic grief period, he had recalled those voices. And he recognized them to belong to those two. And when he realized who they were. Where they were. He knew what he would do. Lance began to make for the building in the night. Let's see how a surprise attack would feel when coming from the other end.
 
(Sorry, I wanted to reply this morning, but didn't have enough time before school)

The girl found a large clearing where the biggest tree she'd ever seen sprouted from the ground. And looking up she realized she had also found--the demon.

The beautiful nobleman's daughter looked up and saw the great and popwerful demon; taking a nap. Sheknew without a doubt that it had to be the demon, but at the same time, it seemed impossible. The demon was but a girl, like her. One that liked to sleep on the lower branches of trees, but a girl all the same. (Gah, this will take a few mintues) The demon didn't stir as the she approached the tree nervously. She was scared, really scared, but when she thought of the villagers who had been hurt and killed because of the demon, she felt anger. "Demon!" She shouted, her voice echoing in the clearing, "I will not allow you to harm the innocent any longer!"
 
As dreams took her consciousness, Wren found herself crouched in a darkened room. Her body ached somehow, her back having an intensifying burning sensation. She attempted to move a little, but found she was being prevented from getting up or leaving her spot, due to what felt like cuffs, chaining her in place. Confused by this, she looked around the area. There was a small patch of light entering the room from a tiny window just to her left, so she could just make out some of the features of the room. It seemed pretty big, but there was no way this was a proper living area. It almost appeared to be a basement, with the white-painted brick walls and marble floors. In the patch of light on the ground, she could just make out a strange substance spattered about; dark red in color. Her head swam as she realized how desperate her situation must be. She struggled against the chains which held her back for a moment, before noticing movement in the far corner. The shape of another person rose it's head.

"Wren?" It spoke in a hushed tone. He sounded like a young boy, and he struggled to his feet, his hands also apparently bound in the same uncomfortable position. He seemed eager to walk to her, but of course that was impossible. The shadow wasn't very tall, maybe the size of a boy in his mid-to-late teens. "Are you alright?" The light of the window caught to his face. He was ragged, a scrape upon his cheek, and dirt in his blonde hair.
She tried to answer, but it seemed she hadn't a voice at all. All she could do was nod a little. In doing this, she felt something wet drip from her forehead, down her cheek, and drip to the floor. The spot it left was red. She looked back up to the boy questionably.

"You just about killed them that time. Well, one of the guards are dead, but that's about as far as you got. He deserved it, with the way he was provoking you. I'm sorry. I tried to help you, but they just locked me up." His face held a look that just echoed the pain he felt. She really wanted to comfort him in some way, but she still couldn't speak, and she hadn't any idea what he was talking about. She killed someone? None of this was even remotely possible
.
Suddenly there was a sound at the door on the opposite side of the room, and she noticed a look of fear on the boy's face as he looked to it.
 
( Somehow, I'm completely uninspired to finish this story)

The demon hardly stirred, only lifting her head a bit as she called back to the person behind her. "Oh yes, and how will you be stopping me?" She replied in a cold voice, "Begone from here, or I will kill you, too." The girl was tired from her journey and scared to, but only of accomplishing nothing. "Please!" She cried out to the demon, tears in her eyes, "Isn't there something I could do!?" This time te demon sat up, slowly, and turned to face the intruder. The demon's eyes widened, for only a second, taking in the girl's beauty--and tears. "What do you want, girl!?" She growled, "You cannot fight me, you are weak. You have no jewels or land to give away at a whim. I know who you are. You are a nobleman's daughter who lives off of the work of others. What could you offer me!?" The daughter tried to swallow her tears, to no avail. "I know who you are too," She asked quietly, "You have hurt many people other than those villagers. You've killed many people and families. Please, I have only myself to sacrifice, but I will do my best to get whatever it is you ask if you would leave these villagers alone." The demon didn't reply at first, and the girl's tears spilt over as she thought the demon would reject her offer. "If you have not but yourself to give," The demon began, eyes cold, "Then take you, I shall." The demon jumped down from her place on the branches, brushing away the girl's tears with a flip of her hand. "You will be mine until the day the world ends in fire," She said, her words as heavy as stone, "And you shall be the jewel that only I shall hold, no matter the size of the jealous crowd."
-----------------------------------------------------
Alice knew it was only a vague idea of what happened, they had been inseparable after all, but it was all she really remembered about that time so long ago. She knew the demon had blessed her jewel with many protections and safeguards, but humans didn't live forever. Forever young, the girl did become, but invicible, not so much. After the tragedy of the girl's death, something that Alice still did not recall, the demon hid away from the world and slept, smothering the rage with sorrow to spare the world the girl had so loved. Her memory was still foggy and she didn't know much about what happened after that except for one thing. The demon gave a piece of herself to the girl to keep her safe. It wasn't too strong, for that would hurt her soul, but it was enough for the demon to take over if the girl was attacked while she was alone. Through that one piece, silent for so long, the demon woke. It throbbed and ached like a bruise, and was the first thing the demon felt as she re-entered the world. As you call, I will come, the demon had thought, And this time, I will not let you go, child of the light.
 
A warm air danced around Lance as he walked resolutely down the street, accompanied only by his shadow. The soft clacking of boots on pavement and Lance's own breath were the only things that could be heard in the calm stillness of the night. Despite this, sounds filled Lance's ears with sickening clarity. Voices. Laughter. Ghosts of the past, played over and over through his mind like some melancholy performance. Visions haunted him like they would a prophet, though no comfort came from these. A shudder ran through his body, accompanied by a slight hint of madness. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. With every step he took, reason receeded farther away and was replaced by an animalistic rage. An inhuman desire to kill. Maime. Destroy these filthy vermin who took everything away from him. Lance's shadow stretched across the ground, silhouetted across the front steps of the home as he approached, eyes glinting hungrily.

Through the window, Lance could see them. He stood rigidly in the darkness like the spectre of Death, scythe in hand, amusedly observing the last minutes of his victims. The older brother was holding a child. Perhaps a daughter, or a niece. Lance smiled. There was very little compassion in his heart as he did. So these two knew what the wonders of a child felt like. A derisive snort issued forth as this thought crossed his mind. Lance knew the horror of having one taken away. Looking to the older brothers left, Lance saw that the younger was seated on the couch, turning up the volume on the teleision. A cartoon filled the screen, full of happiness and merriment. A scene like this would have touched the heart of anyone who did not know these people. What they had done. It would have been a kodak moment for any family. Sad that these men would never live to take part in that picture.

Reaching into his pocket, Lance withdrew the heart-shaped locket slowly, clenching the metal with a quivering fist. Looking down, the night casting blackness across his face, he popped the little hinge. Tears threatened to issue forth from his eyes as Lance's madness continued to grow stronger, fueling the monster he was about to become. Through gritted teeth, a tortured moan wailed softly through the neighborhood. This moan did not come from a man. It came from a creature of misery. Click!! Lance shut the locket hurriedly, bared his teeth, and charged straight into the window. Glass shattered as the creature entered, regaining its balance with inhuman speed. A childs scream pierced the air.

Everything began to play in slow motion. As if viewing himself from a third-person point of view, Lance observed his actions. He could hear no sound. Someone that looked like him was strangling a man, while another was desperately trying to pull him off. A child was against the wall, eyes wide and mouth agape in a silent scream. Lance blinked slowly as he witnessed this. It was all so strange. So violent and chaotic. The man who looked like him then snapped the neck of the man he had been strangling, turning to the man who had been trying to pull him off, pouncing on him like a wild beast. Why couldn't there be peace? A single crimson tear of blood slid from the ethereal Lances eye. Silently the second man was subdued by the creature, who proceeded to gouge his eyes out. The little girl against the wall collapsed onto the floor from fear. A contented look came over the etheral Lances face. After all.....music was playing in the distance. A ballad of death was playing, melodic and clear, as the blood-stained creature looked up from its fallen prey......howling at the night sky.
 
The door flung open, showering them both in a bright white light, and her attention was immediately received by the small group of three entering the room. The one up front was a suited man, looking exceptionally pleased with himself. His followers were two, a man and a woman, both in a white lab coat ensemble. The man held a clip board, which as they stood stationary, he announced words which had been written upon it, importance of the matter flowing through his voice.
"As a result of certain issues which have occurred in the facility, and to prevent any further incidents, the Chief Executor has issued an immediate removal of all subjects in the premises. Officials are allowed to use whatever force is necessary to complete this order."
The boy in the chains looked surprised as he spoke up. "Y-you mean we're getting out of here?"
"Yes." She woman smiled cheerfully. "You'll be gone before you know it."
The man in the front walked to the boy, taking the chain of his cuffs and holding them like a leash, speaking in his gruff voice. "You'll never see us again." The boy gave him an odd, hating look, not even replying to him. Obviously he didn't like the guy; he didn't look like the good-hearted type either. Odd that he would be so happy about freeing them, seeing as the three appeared to be a part of the 'facility' that had locked the kids up. As soon as he was free, the man made over to Wren, repeating the leashing with her. He murmured something under his breath then.

"You won't be seeing anyone again"

She looked to the man's face, puzzled. Had she heard right? That boy, he was so overjoyed, he rushed over to Wren, spouting in a sing-song tone about how they'd "be able to go home, and never be poked or prodded with those needles, ever again." The group led them out of the door like prisoners, and even if she wanted to say something, she couldn't. They would hear her, without a doubt. She'd gotten him into enough trouble, anyways. At least as far as she'd heard; she was just trying to find out what was going on in this lucid dream.
The hallway they walked into was all white, with multiple doors on each side, resembling the interior of a hospital or some other kind of temporary housing facilities. Every once in a while there'd be a painting between the doors, though they probably had no purpose for being there anyways. It's doubtful many people would see them, or really care about them existing there. After a moment, she saw a sign hanging from the ceiling in the right wing, a clear indicator, which said in red letters, "EXIT" above two large doors.
 
( Dude.....Lance...........Sorry Bro, gonna have to kill you. Nothing personal or anything....)

Alice prepared to take a quick nap when her laptop beeped madly, a red light flashing from the edge of the screen. Inwardly cursing the timing, Alice opening the computer and clicked on a small alert sign at the bottom of the screen. A series of tabs opened up, all telling of reports on what was happening in the Ebony District. Most of it was minor incidents like gang victims, robberies, or another resident silently leaving this world, but there was one Level Crimson report that showed live action feed of a certain someone losing their sanity.
 
The boy at her side's face lit up with excitement, but as the group kept walking, not even acknowledging the existence of the way out they had passed, his smile faded. Where were they going? This couldn't be good, this was a bad situation, and they needed to just run. Pull away from the chains, break loose. No, that wretched man has a grip of stronger iron than the chains themselves. He slowed his pace drastically, which caused the chains held by the people in front of him to grow taut. They looked over their shoulders, the gruff-speaking man ordering for him to hurry up.
"But the exit's that way." He said, faintly motioning with restriction to the door they had passed.
“Shut up and follow.” He ordered, tugging hard on the chains, making the boy stumble slightly and then continue walking at the faster pace. He shook it off, putting on a strong front, probably in an attempt to keep Wren from worrying. Who was he anyways? He was overwhelmingly familiar, that was for sure. The situation at hand was more important though, she decided, looking forward. She couldn't even see past these people. They were being ultimately vague, but asking any questions more than likely wouldn't be beneficial in the least. The boy stepped a little closer to Wren, probably noticing the frightened and weary look she bore, murmuring some strangely cheerful words of comfort. "They must know another way out. That Exit probably doesn't go right out, or maybe it's blocked off."
She guessed that would make sense. His enthusiasm was strange in such a place, but maybe it was a good approach to it. Maybe they were going to get out. Maybe she and her new friend would live, go home, and find some nice dinner just waiting for them. Maybe a nice roast, or a party that just so happened to be going on, which would be transformed into a welcome home celebration. Home.. where was that? Well, anywhere but here, surely. Oh, stop the questions already, child.
"Here we are." The man with the clipboard chimed, he and the woman with him turning to face the kids, their backs to a door which must have been at the end of the never-ending hallway.
The woman spoke mockingly, as a lot of adults do to children who don't know any better than to go jumping off of coffee tables and such. "Now, you two have to be on your best behavior for these folk, okay? They're very important." She looked annoyed, abruptly taking a handkerchief from her pocket and wiping blood from Wren's face. Wren shrunk away slightly, but of course she was prevented from escaping her by the chains. "Oh, they really should have taken you for a wash."
"Hey, stop fussing over them. It's not necessary." The other lab coated individual spoke in annoyance.
"Come on, don't you think they should be a little tidy? I mean, the superiors are watching, right?"
"Just come on. Jesus, can't you idiots just take this a little more seriously?" The large man with the chains droned, pushing them out of the way, and opening the door.
The room they found themselves in was no where near what she had expected. It was a large space with exceptionally tall ceilings. There were shelves and cabinets all over, full of various medications and medical tools. All of the walls and floor tiles, just like the rest of the facility, were excessively painted in white. So much of that one color was enough to give a person some mental instability. In the center of it all sat an empty table, which had been risen on one side so that it had a sharp tilt and anyone lying on it would feel as if they were about to fall off. The reason for this was apparent by looking up the wall which it faced. There, was a long window, which inhabited a small group of people, each sitting in their chair, judging, observing the room below, as if they were students at a university, studying a brain surgeon at work. One of them tapped a microphone he held in front of him, before speaking.
"Welcome back, you three. I'm guessing these are the only ones left?"
"Yes sir."
"Alright," The superiors voice was systematic, and without hesitation. "Please proceed termination of Subject 47B, anti-alias 'Jay.'"
 
( No, no you may not. But continue telling us of your actions. It's the last thing you'll ever do, anyway.)

Alice swore in several different languages, recognising the house he was in and to whom the bodies belonged to. She tapped her keyboard a few times until she was rewarded with a different view of the situation. She noticed the little girl trembling in the corner and her anger only intensified. The thick-headed buffoon has no idea what he just did! Now they were all in danger because of his inability to control himself. She had dark feeling that they wouldn't be having a nice breakfast after all.
 
Suddenly, the music stopped. Petering out with a final high note. As it did, the ethereal Lance's smile faded, body drifting back towards its murderous host. Pausing just before contact, the third-person self looked at his hunched and incoherent vessel, a wave of disgust passing over it. What a terrible person this was. What a poor and pitiable thing. With a flash of light, Lance came to, gasping for air as if he had suddenly emerged from the depths of a pool. His vision wavering, Lance groped around him in an attempt to find his footing, tottering as he did. In his blind attempt to push himself up from his crouched position, his wandering hands came into contact with something soft. And alive.

"Ooooooh..." moaned the thing, causing Lance to pull back in alarm. Vision clearing, Lance began to see what he had touched. Lying on his back, the younger Russian brother was writhing in pain. His leg was bent awkwardly, his eyes bleeding and scratched. Lance gasped as the animal he had become retreated back to the void from which it came, leaving a very sane Lance behind. Shock passed over his features. He realized now the full weight of what he had done. Looking at his shaking hands, adrenaline still pumping, Lance fell back weakly onto his rear end. His fingernails were dripping with fresh blood, scratch marks covering the length of his arms, the feeble protests of his victim. "Dear Lord......what have I done...." Lance whispered aloud, eyes wide and disbelieving.

"W-w-who....who the heck are you??!!!" shouted the Russian blindly, backpedaling towards the wall behind him, head searching for his invisible attacker. "You just wait!! I-I'll have you killed for this!!!!" Standing up slowly, brushing himself off as he did, Lance replied. "I'm just here to finish the little game we started 4 years ago." Lances words immediately impacted the injured robbers face. At first, his mouth was open in intense surprise. This quickly faded into an evil smile."So....." he muttered softly, chuckling painfully, "......it's you then." The mans chuckle turned quickly into heaving laughter. "You here to find your daughter? Well bad news my friend. She's already gone. Sold her to some buddies in the child trade. Good money, you understand." His wicked smile broadened. "But don't worry. They'll be taking good care of her. She is merchandise after all."

Lance felt as if the air was knocked out of him. His daughter? Alive?
 
Jay, that was his name, looked utterly shocked as the doors behind them were locked, and he was grabbed by the arm and lead in the direction of the table by the larger man. Fear laced his voice as he protested, squirming under their grasp. "T-termin-- You said we'd be leaving! You said we could go home!"
"Stop, leave h..him.. alone..!" Wren started, lunging towards Jay, but her shrill and broken voice caught in her throat and she was still held back by the man with the chains, though he had to take her by both arms instead in order to keep her back. Her voice was dry as it came out, as if worn away; no wonder she couldn't speak beforehand. Through gritted teeth, the man struggled to get him to where he was ordered, rasping in annoyance at his naivety. "We said you were being 'Removed', not let go. We're removing you, just from the face of the planet." Jay had begun fighting the corporate scum which was trying to drag him to his death, kicking and punching enough that he lost his grip and had to let him go. He was overcome by anger. Why couldn't they have been left alone, why did these people have to come and destroy the little threads of life they had? After being called to help wrangle the boy, the man holding her in place handed her off to the woman of the group, storming off to give assistance.
Jay had resorted to fighting now, swinging fists and dodging them. One of these swings impacted with the smaller of the two with enough force to knock him back, and hive him a bloody lip. This enraged him, and the doctor threw himself into the boy, who frantically ran a hand along the medical table behind him, grabbing the closest thing there; a syringe. He swung his arm back, and jabbed the instrument into the man's stomach. He took a step back, surprised and holding the punctured area where the needle was still inserted. After a second, he swayed, and began twitching and convulsing, falling to the floor. He started screaming, writhing in pain as if he was being slowly eaten alive from the inside.
The woman holding Wren let go then, calling out to him. She seemed on the verge of tears, obviously concerned for the man.
"No, nonono! What's going on here!? Why's he--" she began frantically, taking the man into her arms before looking up and seeing the uninjured man with the most sickening look, as though he was holding back an overflowing joy. Then, he let loose the hearty fit of laughter.
"Ahahaha!! That idiot! He got himself stabbed with the needle I prepared for these guys!"
"What!? But he.. he's convulsing, this isn't supposed to happen.. This.. that serum's supposed to be humane! Who--"
"Oh come on, it's not like I wanted HIM to die." He laughed some more, the hilarity of the situation obviously not apparent to anyone but himself. "Well, not like this. A bullet to the skull, maybe, but I didn't plan this; it was just for the brats here. But this is a plus!!"
In the midst of the chaos, Wren had made it to Jay once more. They caught each other in an embrace, then, Wren sobbing into him. It didn't even occur to her that he was just some stranger in a dream a moment ago; she'd been suddenly encouraged to forget all of that by now. But the doctors continued their spat, Jay intent on keeping his protection with the little Wren. Suddenly the dying man fell silent in the woman's lap, leaving her in shock at the loss of her beloved partner. The loudspeaker, which had been silent even through all of this, finally spoke up, the superiors making their final judgement.
"Throw all bodies into the incinerator with the rest. Carry out your orders."
Then, she was thrown into a rage, aimed at the one at fault.
"You.. you BASTARDS!" She shouted up at the blank-faced characters in the observatory. How dare they feign such ignorance to the crimes committed here? Helpless, she remembered how the glass was impenetrable by any weapons she could have at hand. So she turned to the man who had infected the serum, freezing as her wide eyes met with the barrel of a handgun, the face behind it, the killer, the madman behind it, smiling with such repulsive joy.
"Removal in progress!"
 
Alice quietly shut her laptop, suddenly very tired. She would wait for him to come home first, then she would have to deal with him. She sighed and stood up from the couch. She walked over to her bedroom door and opened it a crack. Wren was sleeping silently and the darkness of the room seemed to make her pale face and hair glow. Alice watched her for a few seconds, reluctant to leave the comforting darkness of her room for the harsh, real world. She loved the shadows of this world. They always welcomed her, pulling her into a protective circle that mirrored a mother's embrace. It was cold and dark, yes, but it calmed and reassured her as well. It couldn't blind her like the overwelming power of the light.