The room was stifling, suffocating me with the stench of decay and despair. The remnants of shattered dreams lay scattered across the cluttered desk, mingling with abandoned research papers and failed experiments. Dr. Ethan Sinclair, once a renowned quantum teleportation researcher, now found himself imprisoned within the confines of his own shattered existence.
A day like any other, or so I thought, until chaos shattered the serenity of our lab. A blinding flash, an eruption of electric fury, and a deafening explosion tore through the air, leaving carnage in its wake. The agony that engulfed my body was indescribable, a torment that seared through my very being. And when my consciousness reluctantly returned, a grotesque scene awaited me.
Thanks for reading Bad, Bad, Bad, Good! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.
I stumbled to my feet, disoriented and bewildered, ears ringing. The Quantum Tunneling Apparatus was destroyed completely, along with most of the room that contained it and the control room where I stood. A fellow scientist, her eyes wide with terror, stood mere metres away. She had run into the control room to help. Without any conscious intent, my gaze locked onto her, and in that fateful moment, reality itself warped and twisted before my eyes. With an abrupt shift, I found myself standing where she had been, and she... she was no more.
In a violent eruption of gore and blood, the target before me exploded into a horrifying spectacle of carnage. Her body disintegrated, crimson droplets splattering the walls and drenching the room in a grotesque display. I recoiled in shock, horror gripping my soul as I realised the true nature of my newfound ability. I was a conduit of destruction, a vessel of unspeakable terror.
After that, things moved quickly. The research continued. The incident was covered up. The government, ever vigilant for unconventional weapons, seized upon my horrifying power. They saw me not as a human burdened with guilt, but as a weapon to be unleashed upon their enemies. I became their unwilling puppet, a tool of bloody annihilation, forced to telefrag my designated targets and witness their gruesome demise. Each explosion, each life obliterated, chipped away at the remnants of my sanity.
In the murky recesses of my memory, countless missions blur together, an unsettling collage of shattered lives and haunting regrets. Yet, amidst that maelstrom of blood-soaked recollections, one mission stands out, etched with a harrowing clarity—a twisted emblem of the horrors I had unleashed. Let me take you back to a moonlit night in an ancient city, where I found myself perched in the shadows, the weight of impending doom heavy upon my shoulders.
The city's heartbeat pulsed through the bustling streets below, its rhythm tainted by my presence. From the apartment's dusty window, I peered through a pair of binoculars, my gaze fixed on the rooftop garden a mile away. The target, oblivious to the darkness that loomed, lounged there, bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun. A moment of tranquillity amidst the chaos.
Regret gnawed at my conscience, a relentless torment that consumed me with every breath. The mission brief provided explicit details—observe, wait for the opportune moment, and then telefrag the target, yet another "bad guy". Escape was to be made down a discreet stairwell, leaving no trace of my macabre presence. But as I watched the target, their solitude and vulnerability became all too apparent, etching bitter remorse into my soul.
Time ticked away, each second an agonising reminder of the impending horror I was meant to unleash. The setting sun painted the sky with hues of orange and crimson, a cruel juxtaposition to the impending darkness that would shroud this rooftop garden forever. The minutes felt like an eternity, and in that eternity, my resolve wavered, and my purpose corroded.
Finally, an opportune moment presented itself, and a wave of nausea washed over me. A surge of bloodlust mingled with profound regret as I focused my gaze on the unsuspecting target. The power within me surged, and reality contorted once more. With a sickening, ear-splitting explosion, the target was no more, their body torn asunder, fragments of flesh and bone scattered across the rooftop garden.
My escape down the dimly lit stairwell was shrouded in a haze of guilt and a mist of revulsion. Each step amplified the weight of what I had become—an instrument of destruction, a harbinger of death. The distant wails of sirens filled the air, a symphony of consequence as the city responded to the aftermath I had left behind. I was a monster, a puppet dancing to a sinister tune composed by a government's insatiable appetite for power.
As the mission's retelling fades, a foreboding shroud descends upon my weary soul, whispering of a terror that lurks within the void between teleports. It is not the government's retribution that plagues my thoughts now, but the unseen entities that dwell in the desolate expanse. With every teleportation, the duration spent in that ethereal abyss lengthens, stretching the boundaries of my sanity. Dread clutches at my heart, intensifying with each glimpse of the formless horrors that materialise.
And so, as the final pages of my story unfurl, a suffocating darkness envelops my existence, an ominous precursor to an irrevocable decision. With each passing revelation, the gnawing dread intensifies, clawing at the edges of my consciousness. The awareness of those abhorrent entities lurking within the void, their spectral gaze fixated upon my beleaguered soul, tugs at the threads of my sanity. The boundaries between their realm and mine grow disturbingly thin, a fragile membrane threatening to rupture. Amidst their insidious whispers that permeate the recesses of my mind, a chilling realisation dawns—I am ensnared in an unending dance, forever caught between the government's twisted schemes and the vengeful malice of the void's inhabitants. With no escape from this eternal torment, the notion of liberation becomes entwined with a haunting thought, its tendrils reaching towards an unthinkable conclusion, where only death offers respite from the unyielding horrors that plague me.
Thanks for reading Bad, Bad, Bad, Good! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.
