Himself – Chapter Six

Here is the final chapter in our first story. Next Friday we will be posting some artwork based off this story and then the week after we will start the next one. Enjoy!

He sat back in a chair. They’d kill him for this, they’d take him out into the woods and shoot him. Blood was seeping through the cupboard door and was slowly filling the floor with a deep red. He’d cut the two clones lose and led them here to Vasilov’s office and slit their throats, why? Because he’s insane, that’s what their prognoses would be. He lit a cigarette and drew in a deep breath of smoke, he could hear footsteps rushing towards the room. The door burst open, Vasilov and two guards were standing in the door way, the guards swiftly grabbed him and held him in a lock while Vasilov traced the origin of the blood pool to the cupboard. He opened it and the clones, slumped against the door fell out, leaking blood like a broken tap. The Doctor turned to him and downheartedly looked into his eyes, without saying a word the guards carried him away. They threw him into a cell, it was an empty box not even a bed, he lay on the cold hard floor as they closed the door and he was left in complete darkness.

Days, maybe even weeks past. He had no idea how much time had come and gone, or what time of day it was for it was constantly dark and cold in this cell. The only contact he had was a flap in the door opening to past a tray of shit food, he wasn’t even sure if that occurred daily. He knew this would have happened, he anticipated it but he wanted it to be over, the silence of this box was torture. All of a sudden the door swung open, the light attacking his eyes. He was heaved up and out of the cell, a bag was put over his head and he was dragged away, his feet lugging across the floor behind him. They pulled him up to and through a door and he was stung by the cold fresh air of the outside world. He was forced into the back of what must have been a truck, the engine started and they drove off. For all of their intimidation techniques he was completely calm, happy almost to finally be out of that place. They’d been driving for a while, the feeling of driving had lulled him into a relaxed state to the point where he almost forgot where he was. He was jerked back to reality when the truck came to a sudden halt. He was thrown out the back and onto the freezing ground, the bag was whipped off his head and he saw he was in a clearing in the forest. The two guards, who now both carried guns and were stony silent. They hauled him up and marched him toward the tree line, as they walked away from the clearing and into the dense trees he thought how he’d been correct, they would kill him, they’d take him into the woods and shoot him. Good. This is what he’d planned. He feigned to trip and went over on his knees, the guard came up to his right hand side to push him up but the man was too quick, he spotted a knife in an ankle holster in the guards boot, he grabbed it and with one motion sliced the guard’s leg who yelled out in pain. He span to his feet and buried the knife into the guards heart. Without thinking he pushed away and lunged for the second man, who had been fumbling to get his rifle aimed at him, he’d finally done it and as the Man charged at him he shot, the bullet barely grazed his thigh. He clattered into him and they struggled on the ground until the Man used his stolen knife again to repeatedly stab the soldier in the side until he was dead. He fell to the side, this had been his plan for a long time and it was working. No time to rest, he’d hoped to steal the truck but they had heard the commotion and were charging towards the tree line. No time to waste, he ran as hard and as fast as he could.

He was exhausted, he could hear them closing in on him, he could hear the howl of the wolves in the distance. As he ran the ground shook, he barely paid it any notice, the men chasing him were almost on top of him. Ahead of him he saw a small ravine, he ran for it and slid into it landing onto a ledge, below him it was dark but it was his best shot, he jumped in. It was a tunnel, he made his way over the roots that covered this place, he tripped. A snap. His wrist was broken, he pushed on through the pain, the tunnel was closing in, the earth beneath him was shaking, a deafening noise was coming from below. The tunnel began to cave in on him as he pushed deeper. The floor started to slope as he careened forwards in an uncontrolled sprint, until there was no more floor and he was falling. Then the ground appeared.

He woke up, more than his wrist was broken. The tremors had stopped, the noise remained and after re-gaining his awareness he could see a dim light in front of him. He followed it down a kind of natural staircase. He trailed it down, the light getting brighter as he went, the pathway opened up into an immense chamber. Everything he’d felt up until this point faded into insignificance. He dropped to his knees, ignoring the pain, and whispered “Not again”.

He knew this place, a memory that hadn’t been deleted. The chamber was some kind of Soviet era missile silo and what was apparent was that it was still being used and was almost certainly the cause of all the earth tremors. That’s not what disturbed him, what distressed him was on a much smaller scale than this underground expanse. Ahead of him was a projecting screen in front of what looked like a dentists chair, it had full body restraints and a kind of head brace. He kneeled in a kind of paralysed stupor, he barely noticed being lifted up. His body hardly fighting against being dragged towards the chair, he whimpered “No, please no…”. They strapped him in, fastened the head brace around his skull, pulled down and secured eye clamps over his eyes ensuring he was not able to blink. Attached to the eye clamp was an ice pick that hovered in front of his right eye. Vasilov appeared around the side of the chair.

“I trust you remember what this is?”

“Yes.” replied the Man.

“Good.” said the Doctor satisfied.

“How?” asked the Man.

“You slit the throat of our most promising candidate yet, this is unacceptable.”

The doctor walked behind the chair to the projector and continued.

“We didn’t plan on you killing the men escorting you here, but you’ve made it never the less.”

“I thought they were going to kill me.” the Man half said to himself.

“No, we do not intend to kill you, that would not be economical. We will merely lobotomise your mind to what is admissible to us”.

Vasilov switched on the projector. It flickered to life, the old film reels whirring to action. The screen lit up with fluttering light.


“Don’t grovel!” snapped Vasilov. “After everything we’ve done for you, we cloned you to make the ultimate soldier in your image and you repay us by slitting their throats and running off like a scared child.”

“This is not what I wanted.”

“Be quiet.”

The film began, clips of death and destruction, pain and suffering. He barely paid it notice, his whole body was broken and sore. The ice pick was raised and without warning punctured his skull and his mind went black.


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