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Description

Space consumed the view, extending in every direction as far as the eye could see; stars and planets glowed faintly in the distance and the occasional asteroid drifted by. Nik looked down from the window and back to his journal.

Dear Journal: I've been sitting in my quarters for around two hours and I have finally gotten bored enough that I'm writing this stupid journal. I don't know exactly what the hell I need a journal for, calling it a journal is just a way to dignify a man with a diary, but my therapist says it'll help 'Calm my nerves and channel my feelings'. Anyhow I've been onboard a week or so and this place is tense: the air is practically sweating the crewmen are so nervous. They know we're pursuing Para, and they know we're doing it alone…. I got to admit though; the other members of Ollivander's "Gallows Project" are definitely not your average boy scouts. I was on my back from the mess and a goddamn mummy straight out of an old horror flick slunk by me in the hall, as if I didn't have enough to worry about going after that witch, now there are fucking mummies on the ship. The weirdest part was that 'he' radiated self-loathing; his self-hatred was so strong, I felt it from down the hall. I guess if I was wrapped up in toilet paper I would hate myself too.

Nik threw the journal onto his desk and rose from his reclining position in bed. There weren't any lights on, but it didn't matter, Nik could see perfectly in the dark, Nik could see perfectly anywhere. Nik was a man of average height dressed all in black with fatigues and a light jacket. Despite his being almost thirty Nik was still very much in his physical prime. The S.S. Gallia was a decent sized cruiser built for one purpose, capturing Para. The engines hummed ever presently, low enough that to most people it would have been background noise quickly tuned out, but Nik could feel the floor buzzing and rumbling beneath him: the engines were an amp that blasted 24/7.

Nik approached the door and hit the button on the wall console. The door slid to the side and light flooded the room, Nik was blinded for a second, but quickly dilated his pupils to compensate. He walked absently down the hall, going nowhere in particular. He wandered through the hallways, feeling the stares the crewmen gave him and listening to their whispers "Which one is he?" "Always skulking around" "Creeps me out"……I wonder how many would say anything to my face, he thought to himself.

Nik's earpiece emitted a tiny noise, a fraction of the volume of the normal transmitters altered to prevent hurting Nik's sensitive ears. Ollivander's techies had finally issued him with a comm device so low no one else could even hear it. Nik reached up and tapped the answer button.

"The fuck is it?"

"Mr. Beketov, its Dr. Jones I was hoping you could come by and we could finish our session."

Fuck. Dr. Jones was Nik's therapist and Ollivander had demanded Nik see him if he was going to take part in the hunt for Para. Nik had gotten fed up describing the various ways that Para's scientists had opened him up and crisscrossed his wires, so he stormed out during their last session. Nik's memories tended to get livelier than he cared for as of late. The doctor was being irritatingly patient. Nik didn't want to go, but he put his feelings aside as he imagined Ollivander denying him his revenge. "Fine, I'll be up in a bit" Nik sighed "Splendid, I'll make some tea." The doctor was also annoyingly pleasant.

Nik hated the Gallia with its recycled air and claustrophobic hallways, everything vibrated and echoed around in frequencies no one else could hear, giving him migraines that felt like someone was digging for his brain with a cake mixer. Even so it was a nice change stepping out of the bleak grey halls into the glass lift that would take him to the level the doctor's office was on. While he rose, Nik swept his gaze over the engineering area of the ship. The engineering bay was a hive of activity; engineers and techs in jumpsuits bustled to and fro welding this, replacing that, turning dials. Conveyer belts and miniature lifts carried mechs and expensive looking equipment off to various depots and battle stations around the ship. The entire bay sparked, whirred, and shone silver under bright work lights positioned over everything. Wouldn't want the vending machines blowing up in our faces, Nik thought dryly.

The lift stopped and Nik proceeded down to Dr. Jones's office. He knocked once on the door and entered without waiting for an answer. The Doctor was already sitting in his chair. Dr. Jones was an elderly man who had long ago embraced his age, proud of his greying hair, he always wore a blue turtleneck and khaki pants. He smiled his trademark 'pleasant' smile at Nik from behind his dark spectacles. "Ah, Nicholas, perfect timing- "my name is Nikolai you pompous dandy shrink fuck" Nik spat "well anyway take a seat; the tea will be ready any minute now." Nik begrudgingly lay down on the couch across from the Doctor. Despite Nik's outburst Dr. Jones was eager to continue, though his face was calm and urgh pleasant Nik could feel the curiosity bubbling up in the Doctor's mind ready to come bursting out.

"Now Mr. Beketov why don't we start things off with you telling me about the staff that, ahh, "treated" you." Treated?! Nik shot Dr. Jones an acidic look. "Treated me? Those fucking sadists played cats-fucking-cradle with my nervous system!" Nik snapped, he took a deep breath, he was already sick of this session. "The team Para hired was commissioned to create the perfect assassin that could find any target, anywhere, at anytime. Most of the team was pretty anonymous, regular scientists who got sick of ethics blocking their discoveries. The guy in charge though he was a sick bastard." Nik glared furiously at the ceiling. The man's cruel face leered down at him "no, no anesthesia. We need to see if he can feel everything after all." Nik began to scream as the surgery machines slowly carefully removed his eyes.

…..…….."He had an obsession with this stupid book called "The Hunger Games" he labeled us "Mutts" mostly because we were mixed creations from all kinds of experiments, but also in reference to mutant creatures in the book. He particularly loved to blend work and pleasure by recreating the book setting us up in a couple acres of land and forcing us to kill each other to prove who was fit to survive." Nik kept staring intensely at the ceiling. The boy had an enormous tumor above his right eye an attempt to improve his higher brain functions no doubt. Nik watched him intently from beneath the surface of the river, when the boy knelt at the bank to take a drink Nik grabbed his wrists and pulled him under. The boy thrashed and fought but he couldn't get free, and eventually the boy went still.

Mr. Beketov, MR. BEKETOV! Nik snapped back to the present, he realized he had ceased talking and had been making strangling gestures with his hands. "I take it these "provings" are the source of your post traumatic stress disorder." "Mostly the experiments but yeah, Ollivander's offer to join this witch hunt was the sweetest sound I have ever heard, and the sooner I can flay that witch in her own living room the better." Suddenly the Intercom announced. "All Gallows Operatives report to the briefing room!" Nik smiled to himself It's about time.

Description

Space consumed the view, extending in every direction as far as the eye could see; stars and planets glowed faintly in the distance and the occasional asteroid drifted by. Nik looked down from the window and back to his journal.

Dear Journal: I've been sitting in my quarters for around two hours and I have finally gotten bored enough that I'm writing this stupid journal. I don't know exactly what the hell I need a journal for, calling it a journal is just a way to dignify a man with a diary, but my therapist says it'll help 'Calm my nerves and channel my feelings'. Anyhow I've been onboard a week or so and this place is tense: the air is practically sweating the crewmen are so nervous. They know we're pursuing Para, and they know we're doing it alone…. I got to admit though; the other members of Ollivander's "Gallows Project" are definitely not your average boy scouts. I was on my back from the mess and a goddamn mummy straight out of an old horror flick slunk by me in the hall, as if I didn't have enough to worry about going after that witch, now there are fucking mummies on the ship. The weirdest part was that 'he' radiated self-loathing; his self-hatred was so strong, I felt it from down the hall. I guess if I was wrapped up in toilet paper I would hate myself too.

Nik threw the journal onto his desk and rose from his reclining position in bed. There weren't any lights on, but it didn't matter, Nik could see perfectly in the dark, Nik could see perfectly anywhere. Nik was a man of average height dressed all in black with fatigues and a light jacket. Despite his being almost thirty Nik was still very much in his physical prime. The S.S. Gallia was a decent sized cruiser built for one purpose, capturing Para. The engines hummed ever presently, low enough that to most people it would have been background noise quickly tuned out, but Nik could feel the floor buzzing and rumbling beneath him: the engines were an amp that blasted 24/7.

Nik approached the door and hit the button on the wall console. The door slid to the side and light flooded the room, Nik was blinded for a second, but quickly dilated his pupils to compensate. He walked absently down the hall, going nowhere in particular. He wandered through the hallways, feeling the stares the crewmen gave him and listening to their whispers "Which one is he?" "Always skulking around" "Creeps me out"……I wonder how many would say anything to my face, he thought to himself.

Nik's earpiece emitted a tiny noise, a fraction of the volume of the normal transmitters altered to prevent hurting Nik's sensitive ears. Ollivander's techies had finally issued him with a comm device so low no one else could even hear it. Nik reached up and tapped the answer button.

"The fuck is it?"

"Mr. Beketov, its Dr. Jones I was hoping you could come by and we could finish our session."

Fuck. Dr. Jones was Nik's therapist and Ollivander had demanded Nik see him if he was going to take part in the hunt for Para. Nik had gotten fed up describing the various ways that Para's scientists had opened him up and crisscrossed his wires, so he stormed out during their last session. Nik's memories tended to get livelier than he cared for as of late. The doctor was being irritatingly patient. Nik didn't want to go, but he put his feelings aside as he imagined Ollivander denying him his revenge. "Fine, I'll be up in a bit" Nik sighed "Splendid, I'll make some tea." The doctor was also annoyingly pleasant.

Nik hated the Gallia with its recycled air and claustrophobic hallways, everything vibrated and echoed around in frequencies no one else could hear, giving him migraines that felt like someone was digging for his brain with a cake mixer. Even so it was a nice change stepping out of the bleak grey halls into the glass lift that would take him to the level the doctor's office was on. While he rose, Nik swept his gaze over the engineering area of the ship. The engineering bay was a hive of activity; engineers and techs in jumpsuits bustled to and fro welding this, replacing that, turning dials. Conveyer belts and miniature lifts carried mechs and expensive looking equipment off to various depots and battle stations around the ship. The entire bay sparked, whirred, and shone silver under bright work lights positioned over everything. Wouldn't want the vending machines blowing up in our faces, Nik thought dryly.

The lift stopped and Nik proceeded down to Dr. Jones's office. He knocked once on the door and entered without waiting for an answer. The Doctor was already sitting in his chair. Dr. Jones was an elderly man who had long ago embraced his age, proud of his greying hair, he always wore a blue turtleneck and khaki pants. He smiled his trademark 'pleasant' smile at Nik from behind his dark spectacles. "Ah, Nicholas, perfect timing- "my name is Nikolai you pompous dandy shrink fuck" Nik spat "well anyway take a seat; the tea will be ready any minute now." Nik begrudgingly lay down on the couch across from the Doctor. Despite Nik's outburst Dr. Jones was eager to continue, though his face was calm and urgh pleasant Nik could feel the curiosity bubbling up in the Doctor's mind ready to come bursting out.

"Now Mr. Beketov why don't we start things off with you telling me about the staff that, ahh, "treated" you." Treated?! Nik shot Dr. Jones an acidic look. "Treated me? Those fucking sadists played cats-fucking-cradle with my nervous system!" Nik snapped, he took a deep breath, he was already sick of this session. "The team Para hired was commissioned to create the perfect assassin that could find any target, anywhere, at anytime. Most of the team was pretty anonymous, regular scientists who got sick of ethics blocking their discoveries. The guy in charge though he was a sick bastard." Nik glared furiously at the ceiling. The man's cruel face leered down at him "no, no anesthesia. We need to see if he can feel everything after all." Nik began to scream as the surgery machines slowly carefully removed his eyes.

…..…….."He had an obsession with this stupid book called "The Hunger Games" he labeled us "Mutts" mostly because we were mixed creations from all kinds of experiments, but also in reference to mutant creatures in the book. He particularly loved to blend work and pleasure by recreating the book setting us up in a couple acres of land and forcing us to kill each other to prove who was fit to survive." Nik kept staring intensely at the ceiling. The boy had an enormous tumor above his right eye an attempt to improve his higher brain functions no doubt. Nik watched him intently from beneath the surface of the river, when the boy knelt at the bank to take a drink Nik grabbed his wrists and pulled him under. The boy thrashed and fought but he couldn't get free, and eventually the boy went still.

Mr. Beketov, MR. BEKETOV! Nik snapped back to the present, he realized he had ceased talking and had been making strangling gestures with his hands. "I take it these "provings" are the source of your post traumatic stress disorder." "Mostly the experiments but yeah, Ollivander's offer to join this witch hunt was the sweetest sound I have ever heard, and the sooner I can flay that witch in her own living room the better." Suddenly the Intercom announced. "All Gallows Operatives report to the briefing room!" Nik smiled to himself It's about time.