The Story of a Weapon: Part Two
The young faerie Draik gasped. She would have never guessed
these things about her ancestor. She had grown up listening to stories of her
foremother--the great Weapon23. Everyone in her family spoke of how Weapon had
simply appeared randomly, grown to love her adoptive mother, and grew to be a
great Neopian asset. Yet no one had ever known of the story of her origin, and
she felt like she was learning forbidden secrets. No one was meant to know much
of the mystery involving Weapon...
Despite the taboo surrounding these entries,
she couldn't keep herself from reading on...
"It seems, so little happens in this place around
me compared to what goes on in my mind. The scientists (that's what they seem
to call themselves) do a lot of work, true, but you can tell it's all automatic
for them; no one in this place ever really thinks anymore. Except, perhaps,
for me. I think about the harsh laboratory lighting glinting off the deep purple
of my scales, or how easy it would be to hook the horns on my head into one
of those non-thinking people. Thoughts like the latter do scare me somewhat;
they come more and more frequently, especially when I hear them talking. They
mutter in hushed tones, and I can only catch flashes of their conversations.
They're saying I'm the success. That I'm still alive is their miracle. I guess
there won't have to be a 24."
She had finally seen herself. Skin of a deep
purple intended to be easily hidden in dark areas as she would wait for the
time to strike, black claws and horns, eyes so vividly purple you'd think that
they had been painted. Her hide was already tough enough to resist most of the
weapons they attempted to use on her to both test how well she was growing,
and to try and make her behave "properly". Her claws could cut these pretty
stones they called diamonds, though she wished she could just keep them... They
were shiny... and pretty. I suppose the natural instinct of the dragon to collect
pretty things cannot be overridden by the ingrained ideas of being a weapon.
They had given her a mirror in this cell. The
only indulgence that they had given her. It was intricately designed--small
ancient symbols etched into the metal in a farfetched manner. It seemed powerful
and demanding. It seemed to call to her... bidding her to do something... but
she couldn't understand the orders... She had picked up small pieces of conversation
from down the hall that she knew she wasn't supposed to hear. They were trying
to use subliminal messages to make her more aggressive. Probably what the symbols
on the mirror were for. But, with the way the lighting glistened of the metal
of the mirror, she couldn't help continuing to stare at the mirror...
She now tended to ignore those who came into
her cell to study her. They were too slow-witted for her. They never seemed
to think about anything other than what was right in front of them. They never
wanted to answer her questions. They wanted to stare at her, study her.
Every now and then, she would catch snippets
of their conversations outside of her cell. Apparently they were thrilled that
she was still alive. The 22 previous tries had all failed. They either didn't
survive, or they didn't have enough survival instinct to defend themselves at
all, so they had to be destroyed. She was their miracle: their only hope. If
she failed as well, they would never be able to prove to anyone that they were
One day she was listening to bits and pieces
of a conversation between him and the woman who had begged her not to speak
her name. He was threatening her. He was making Sarah uncomfortable.
A low, threatening growl was heard from the cell.
They realized that she wasn't a failure, she simply had to be provoked... She
wanted to tear him to shreds. How could he treat another of his species the
same way he treated her. Like someone to be ruled over, to be dominated, to
be forced into servitude. He irked her... She imagined herself tearing him...
destroying him... The thoughts of it all scared her... and a small whimper emerged
from her cell...
Usually, she contemplated anything and everything.
Why had she been so intricately designed? Why did the lighting reflect off of
her hide as it did? And most of all... Why did they keep her locked up; was
she that dangerous? Day after day went on, she contemplated, they stared at
her while she thought. They still thought it amazing that she had still survived;
she still thought them to be moronic beyond belief.
Finally, something interesting happened. Six
of the usual scientists actually came into her cell again. She was writing into
the little notebook, and she glanced up at them.
One of the scientists aimed something metallic
at her and a loud sound was heard in the cell. She noticed the small dart stuck
between two of her scales. Then her vision began to blur. It faded out from
vividly colorful to dull and grey, to just black.
They thought she was now unconscious, and deemed
it safe to walk over to her and seize the one thing she'd had since she could
see--the notebook and the pen. She knew what they were doing... She also knew
there was nothing she could do to stop it. The dart had made her muscles heavy
and reluctant to move; she couldn't see a thing; and she just wanted to sleep.
She fought off this new feeling... Yearning to be free of this and to get her
precious book back... She heard the door slam shut. They had fled with the one
thing that mattered to her...
Safe outside of her room, the scientists heard
a new kind of growl... A terrifying roar that showed how honestly angry this
weapon had finally become. Their ploy was working, she would give them the results
She inhaled deeply before opening her eyes. Paper.
It was a scent she hadn't smelled in years. Opening her eyes, she noticed the
little black book and pen sitting next to her.
The compulsion to write was too strong. She opened
up the little black book and started forming words.
"My... I had forgotten about this small thing.
Little scribbles on small pages. I remember writing here though... I remember
how it helped me. Perhaps it will help me again. It's been years, not much has
changed... well, I suppose that's a lie. Many things are different. My body
has grown, to perhaps... twice its original size. My scales retain their deep
purple, but there are streaks which appear to have a light red tinge. But mostly...
it is my mind which has changed. Soon after that last entry, they took my little
book, and the little pen. So I decided to try not to think, or feel... or...
anything. I had to shut off; there wasn't anywhere I could put it all. I guess
during all this time, they must have put it here for me. I can't remember it
happening, though. But the scent of paper woke me. It was almost like the first
time waking in this awful place. But now, all the bars are much closer. I don't
like it. I have to leave; I can tell they know that too, but they're planning
on a different type of leave, I think."
She could sense the change in everything. They
were frantic. They never spent too long in her cell. They spent all their time
taking "inventory" and the likes. It seemed like they were going to relocate...
only... that they wouldn't have a new location.
Then she noticed new people. The smells were
different. They smelled... fresh. Like they hadn't been trapped in here for
years. They gave her ideas of there being something other than laboratories
and bars. Then... She came to notice that there were less things in the building.
Fewer scientific things. More and more boxes. The fresh smelling people left;
she never even got to see them. They regarded her the same as they regarded
everything else in this laboratory. A loose end left to be tied.
He came in. He told her about the sudden lack
of funding. His higher officials said that "the results weren't interesting
enough to continue." They were closing everything down.
"This includes you."
She glared at him. Primal thoughts began to fill
her head. She could easily tear him... destroy him... end his sorry existence.
"They're coming to destroy you and all evidence
of you tomorrow."
He turned and left the side of her cell. She
growled after him, anger building up and becoming rage. Breaking through the
bars, her memory and mind faded, leaving on the red hate and anger...
Regaining focus and conscience, she looked around...
Everything that could possibly be broken, was broken. She began to wonder why
she hadn't broken the bars and left sooner. She had tried once before... but
she hadn't been as strong as she was now, and had been for a long while. The
sharp metal objects, and their other weapons had been useless against her hide
for a long time. She had become impenetrable. Practically immortal. She had
only one weakness; these people were unlikely to create such a power and not
leave some way to destroy it, in case it ever... rebelled. However, they hadn't
been able to find it; it wasn't where they had thought it would be, and she
certainly wasn't telling.
Fear consumed her. Why had she done this? Because
you were programmed to do anything to survive, she told herself. You
were made to be cruel, vicious, and murderous.
Guilt began to overwhelm her when she saw Sarah.
She would never forget that woman... That is why they didn't want their names
to be said to her. She would never forget them, what they did to her, and they
would always be in her memory, no matter what happened, or how many years passed.
She would never forget; they had programmed her to be this... this Monster.
Flee! The word sounded in her head. You
must leave! They'll be here in a few short hours to rid themselves of the laboratory...
and everything in it. Anger flashed red before her eyes, but passed as the
fear overwhelmed her, why would they kill what they had given life?
Grabbing the few possessions she had, her pen
and her small book, she left the compound and ran...
To be continued...