The tortures lasted for weeks, months, maybe years. Time had become an irrelevant abstraction. Pain, however, was constant. It shaped me, consumed me, turning every second into an endless cycle of suffering and unconsciousness. I was shattered, patched up, and shattered again. Never enough to die, just enough to stay broken.
Then, one day, he appeared. Nolan entered the cell without ceremony, the doors hissing open with a metallic screech. His gaze fell on me, filled with disappointment and anger. I laughed mentally. My teeth were still regenerating, my jaw was still a ruin, so the laughter remained inside me, an echo of contained mockery.
But then, something unexpected happened. My father's expression changed. Something I had never seen before crossed his face: sadness. I didn't understand that feeling. I never could. Sadness? To me, it was just weakness disguised as emotion. When I saw it, I mocked him again inside. But Nolan said nothing about it. He just stepped closer and spoke, his voice firm and emotionless.
"They released you, Mark. Your next mission is a planet called Vortalis-5."
He turned and left the cell. I tried to follow him, but my body stumbled against the door. I was naked. Of course, I was. It had been a long time since I had the right to clothes. Nolan didn't react, just kept walking, as if I were nothing more than an insignificant ghost in his shadow.
I went to one of the empty rooms in the base and found a white Imperial uniform. Simple, functional, without adornments—the attire of a soldier, a warhound. I dressed slowly, feeling the fabric slide over my still-healing skin. I went to the mirror. My red, artificial eyes stared back at me, cold, dead. I was still here. But who was "I" now?
I left the base flying. The air was cold against my skin. The other Viltrumites watched me from the ground, their gazes filled with rage and shame. To them, I was a walking mistake, a scar on the pride of their race. I didn't care. I had always been a mistake. And I had always been better for it.
Vortalis-5 was a prosperous planet. Advanced civilization, great cities, impressive technology. A place that could have been a valuable ally to the Empire. But that wasn't my mission. My mission was the massacre.
I descended from the skies like a living calamity. My first impact cracked the earth, collapsed buildings, exploded vehicles into flames. Defenses came quickly, but they were weak. Energy beams ricocheted off me. Plasma weapons barely scratched my skin. I tore them apart with my hands, crushed them against the ground like insects. Their screams were a familiar melody. Their expressions of terror, a macabre art painted on the battlefield.
I ripped entire towers from the ground and hurled them at crowds. I tore bodies in half. I reduced cities to smoldering ruins. It wasn't a war. It was a slaughter.
When the government fell and half the planet's inhabitants lay dead, I stopped. The silence after the destruction was almost disappointing. I had been holding back from killing everyone. But then… my vision darkened. A moment of pure blindness. My eyes wouldn't respond. Panic hit me like a punch.
What was happening?
I turned in the air, felt around, tried to sense something beyond the darkness. Then, a voice whispered in my ear.
"We are watching you, Mark. Did you think your eyes were the only means of surveillance? There are more things you don't know."
My rage boiled. Veins bulged on my forehead, throbbing with fury. I could feel it. I wasn't free. I never was. And now, more than ever, I wanted to destroy everything.
But I was blind. And they were always watching.
The darkness didn't last forever. When my vision returned, I was already back in my cell. The cold metal beneath me, the smell of blood and disinfectant, the heavy chains restraining my movements. Everything was familiar. Everything was a reminder that I had never been free.
I remembered what happened after the darkness. I tried to fight, to resist, but the Viltrumites grabbed me as if I were nothing. Their iron hands seized me without hesitation, ripping me from the battlefield without a single word. Space became my only horizon until the imperial ship swallowed my existence once more. They took me back to the Empire. Back to my cell.
The tortures began again. Time dissolved once more. Pain, unconsciousness, reconstruction, pain again. A cycle that repeated endlessly. No variation. No mercy.
And then, like before, Nolan appeared. The cell doors opened with a mechanical hiss. He was there, staring at me, and I knew what that meant.
Another mission. Another massacre. Another planet to destroy.
"Synthia-4," he said, expressionless. "Finish quickly."
My vision faded before I could respond. And so, history repeated itself. Each planet was a new execution. Each new conquest was another reason for my rage to grow. I massacred them, annihilated them, tore them apart. Every civilization became an echo of pain and ruins beneath my hands. But each time, my freedom was just a fleeting illusion. In the end, I always returned to the cell. I always saw Nolan staring at me with that empty look. I always heard a new name being given.
The cell doors opened once more. The metallic sound was a warning, an inevitable sentence. Nolan was there, as always, his expression cold and indifferent. I already knew what he would say before he even opened his mouth. Another planet. Another massacre. Another illusion of freedom before being dragged back into this hell.
But this time, I didn't wait. This time, I attacked.
I lunged at him with everything I had. My fists buried themselves in his flesh, my rage exploding with every blow. Nolan staggered back, surprised. For the first time, I saw something different in his eyes—not anger, not contempt, but genuine surprise. He hadn't expected me to have the strength to react.
But I had time. Time to study the prison. To map its structure. To hear the guards' footsteps. To count their voices, their shifts, their habits. This Viltrumite prison was guarded by four soldiers. My father was among them. I knew that even if I died, it would be worth it. Better than staying here. Better than being the Empire's dog forever.
The alarms began to blare as my fury spread through the corridor. Nolan recovered quickly, blocking my attacks and striking back. The blows were brutal. Bones cracked, walls shattered. But I didn't stop. I couldn't stop.
Then, everything went black.
My vision disappeared.
They shut down my artificial eyes.
But I didn't need them.
My mind was a battlefield. My body, a weapon forged in pain. I heard his breath, the shift of air, the subtle creak of metal under his feet. And then, I kept fighting. Blind, but still lethal.
My blows found their target. Nolan's warm blood splattered against me. I felt his bones break beneath my fists. But then, an impact crushed my chest. I was thrown against the wall, the metal denting with my body. Nolan advanced, his hand piercing my abdomen. The pain was unbearable, a fire burning through my insides. I spat blood, but grabbed his arm, crushing his bones with my remaining strength.
He roared in pain and, with a brutal move, tore off my left arm. The world spun in blinding agony. I screamed, but turned the scream into strength, using the bloody stump to slam his face with all my fury. The impact broke his nose, caved part of his skull. But Nolan was still standing.
He grabbed me by the throat, crushing my windpipe. My lungs begged for air, my vision darkened. But I didn't give up. With my remaining hand, I dug my fingers into his eyes. Nolan howled, releasing me. I staggered, clutching my fractured ribs. Pain was all that remained. Pain kept me alive.
And then, I lunged.
I sank my teeth into his throat.
The flesh gave way, warm and salty in my mouth. Nolan struggled, punching my broken ribs, trying to push me away. But I held on tight. I bit down harder. I tore through his trachea, feeling the blood flood my mouth, dripping hot down my chin. He gurgled, choking on his own fluids. His eyes widened, his strength faltered.
And then, he fell.
Nolan, the great Viltrumite, my father, was dead.
But I had no time to breathe.
The others came. The three guards. Strong, prepared, ready to kill me. A punch exploded against my face, my jaw cracking. Another struck my already shattered ribs, and I felt something pierce through my skin from the inside out. My body screamed in pain, but my mind was already beyond it.
I grabbed one's arm and twisted it until I ripped it from his shoulder. He screamed, but before he could react, I seized my severed arm lying on the ground and drove the exposed bone into his eye, pushing until it pierced through his skull. Blood splattered hot against my face.
The second landed a brutal blow, breaking my leg. I fell, but I took him with me, driving my fingers into his eyes. As he howled, I twisted my body and used the momentum to smash his head against the ground. It wasn't enough to kill him, so I kept going, hitting again and again until his skull gave way and the floor was covered in a red mass.
The third stabbed me with a blade, piercing through my abdomen. I felt the cold metal exit through my back. But before he could pull away, I grabbed his head and pulled him close. I opened my mouth and tore his nose off with my teeth, spitting out flesh and cartilage as he screamed. He tried to retreat, but I shoved my hand into his throat and twisted until I heard a dry snap. His body collapsed lifeless.
The three were dead. I was standing. Bloodied. Broken.
The deafening alarms echoed through the entire structure. The entire prison went into maximum alert. I tried to take a step, but my legs gave out. I fell to my knees, then onto my side, my face hitting the cold, blood-soaked floor—my blood.
My abdomen was torn open from one side to the other, skin and muscle split in a grotesque wound. Part of my intestines spilled out, sliding onto the floor amidst the warm liquid gushing from the injury. My liver was visible, pulsing faintly, as if still struggling to function. My arm, or what was left of it, ended in a jagged wound at the shoulder, exposing broken bones and shredded flesh.
My heart slowed.
My breathing weakened.
I was dying.
And then, a green light shone beside me.
A portal.
I didn't know what it was. I didn't know who had opened it. But it was there.
My body started to grow cold. And then, the darkness finally swallowed me.