I’ll admit that there’s a little inspiration for the opening paragraph from HALO 3, and from some other books I’ve written, but this work is fairly close to being finished, although it could probably stand for heavy editing on my part, but I think you guys will like this. Enjoy.
I’ve gone through several years’ worth of training and studying for this moment. I’ve both seen and done things that you could never dream of. I have seen places you could not imagine. I have the best equipment available and I am the best at what I do. The actions make the man, not the tools he uses to accomplish them. The only thing that matters is that the action is accomplished. Who am I? I am the person that the young children idolize, the person that all adults fear. My blade strikes at the heart of the unjust. I deal out death and justice in equal portions. I am the Reaper, and I am here for both vengeance and justice. For the ones who are reading this who know that I am coming for you, I only have one thing to say.
Run. I am the monument to all your sins.
“What do you remember,” there’s an old man, hair white as the morning snow, sitting in front of me. He holds one of the new datapads developed by the Company. He’s lived a relatively easy life. His hands aren’t callous and scarred like mine. His eyes are kind, he hasn’t had to make the life or death decisions that come with my line of work. He says again, “Son, what do you remember?”
Truth be told, I remember everything before last Saturday. Actually, I remember everything until the explosion. I remember- I remember the faces of all the ones I killed. Even the children. That day was hell on Earth. Fitting, seeing as I am the Reaper. “I remember dropping from the ship. High altitude, low orbit. My pod landed, and some farmer raised the alarm and sent their local ‘militia’ to try and kill me. They knew exactly who I was, and they were terrified,” I say. I rehearsed this story over and over in my head since I woke up chained to the wall. I still don’t know where I am. But I’ll find out soon enough. Just have to wait. I continue, “I remember the faces of the lads who just became able to call themselves men. I remember how it felt to drive my blade into their bodies, to aim my wrist blaster at their hearts, to kill them with fear. After that, though, I remember blackness, and then waking up here.”
“Do you remember why you were there?”
“No. Just that I had to do it.” Right to the point.
“You lie! Do you know what I am, son? What I do for a living? I read people. You make a convincing liar, I admit, but I have done this longer than you have been alive. Your breathing didn’t give anything away. Nor did your heart rate or your pupils. It was your lack of hesitancy. You answered too quickly, as if you were eager to get the lie out and go back to your cell.” He stands up and paces the small concrete room. “Now tell me, why were you there?”
This man is good. But I am better. “If I don’t? You gonna torture me? Evidently you know who and what I am, so you should know that I have never broken under any form of torture you can think of.” Another lie. I can deal with agonizing pain, but the new method of torture that is derived from the old Chinese water torture drives me absolutely crazy. Luckily, this man isn’t much of a scholar or anything. He doesn’t seem to know about the ancient Earth methods of torture. That’s good, it means that I can more easily guess and protect myself from him.
“We shall see about that. Jacques, bring me the hydrogen drill!” A small man, with rounded glasses and a white lab coat brings him a small metal object with a tube on the end and separately hands him a small paring knife. This will be too easy. “Let us start with your hands,” he says excitedly. He hasn’t tortured any one of my kind before. He’s eager to see what it will take for me to break.