Liox sat up on the metal table as the surgeon stepped back. He examined his body, all the stiff metals coated with fresh blood, but for once all was his own. His metal eyes shone bright as he tested the new augments. Data flooded into his brain in a pounding rush, and yet he felt great. He felt better than great. Liox slid off the table, a bubbling chuckle blooming into a black hearted laugh that echoed around the dinky back room. He was unstoppable now. No one can survive even three augments, and yet here he was with a full eight, and he felt wonderful. Where would he go now? Who would be his next victim? So many options; Liox mulled it over as he played music with the surgeon’s screams.
Detective Marcius pursed his lips tight as he bent over. The breakfast he shoveled down squirmed in his stomach as he looked the room over, the stench of fresh blood and flesh assaulting his nose. This was the third murder this week alone, and they were getting worse. He stepped into the room, latex gloved and masked up. Hours passed searching the room over and over, and not a single clue. Whatever grisly monster tore these bodies apart left no traces; they never did. The trail was always cold. Besides the blood and flesh everywhere, the room was always left exactly as it was. He tried to play the scene out in his head, and shivered. He couldn’t imagine it. Whoever had done this wasn’t human anymore. He was dealing with a genuine monster.
Liox smiled. He was perfect. There was a beauty to his metallic flesh, a certain artistry to the way the augments operated together. Every time he moved, he created art. Crude art, though; he needed subjects to truly create art. They should be grateful; their raw, untainted meat will be the paint on the brush that is his body, as the canvas he worked on will remain untouched. And yet, there were those who envied him, those who pushed their bodies to the limit as he had and mimicked his art. Unworthy copycats, all of them! How dare they try to approach perfection like him? How dare they attempt to transcend their own weakness, and thus taint their flesh? No, this would not stand. The smile wilted on his face. They will suffer, all of them. He would have to deal with it.
Marcius frowned. Another day, another murder. The city was falling apart, and worse yet, he had grown accustomed to it. New cases kept springing up faster than his department could handle them, and the media let everyone know about it. Fear was spreading fast. More and more illegal augments made their way onto the streets as people took extreme measures to protect themselves and their homes. At the same time, more and more good cops were leaving the city. Sometimes, it felt like Marcius was the only detective left trying to stop the madness. He remembered an old story from his childhood. Something about a knight being the last one to stand against an evil barbarian’s rampage, and giving his life to defeat him. Despite it all, Marcius couldn’t help but smile.
A very old short story of mine. Originally written in middle school, I believe, then redone later in high school. This is the second draft.
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