Status: Complete
The Files of Arma
The Files of Arma
She woke up hitting the ground hard, but miraculously not breaking anything. Her thoughts raced a mile a minute as she surveyed her surroundings. Where was she?... A table and chair in the corner. … What was she doing here? … A dirty mattress on the other end of the room. … More importantly, whowas she? … A great amount of blood in the corner diagonal from the table..
The girl screamed at the sight of it and threw herself against the wall behind her, screaming a continuous montage of "Oh God no!" and "I don't want to die!" as she backed into a corner. In her hysteria, she cut up her fingers trying to claw at the cement, which made her howl with pain and fear. But the pain grounded her and forced her to calm down, the pain was real and right there. Nursing her bleeding fingers against her chest, she curled up against the corner. Hemophobia. She knew she was afraid of blood. Maybe not her own, but of random blood in the corner of an unknown room? Yes, definitely.
Avoiding the bloody corner, her gaze traveled the room again. On the mattress was a small object. She realized she must have missed seeing it in the state of panic she was in. Carefully standing, she walked over to the stained mattress and shoved all thoughts of what the stains might be aside. She wiped her hands tenderly on her gray shirt and was amazed to find that they were only radiating a dull thud of pain, one easily ignored. She gasped at her hands when she found that they were nearly healed, and she could swear up and down that humans absolutely could not heal that fast. Or.. maybe she could? Maybe she was a fast healer? She couldn't remember.
Her newly healed hands picked up the object -now finding that it was a recorder- cautiously, as if it might bite her if handled incorrectly. She pressed the 'Play' button, and turned up the volume as high as it would go. There was a fit of static before a man's gruff voice came over the tiny speaker. The recording sounded faded and worn, as if it was recorded a long time ago.
"September 24th, 1943
The test subjects are in their final trimester of conception. In a mere three months time, more or less, the twins will be born and the results of the experiment shall be put to the test. If all goes well, we shall have super beings of our own."
1943? Did she hear that right? She had no sense of time, but she knew it just wasn't 1943... or anywhere close to that time frame for that matter. Call it intuition, but she had a strong pull at her gut that she just couldn't ignore. She dropped the recorder on the bed as she pondered this new information. And what was this about super beings and twins? Experimentation?
'World War II, dummy.'
She looked up and around, expecting to see someone standing in the room with her. She saw and heard no one. Experimentation on twins... World War II... super beings... Oh.
"I learned about that in school." she said aloud, but nearly choked when she found she couldn't remember when she had been to school. She shook her head harshly until the room seemed to spin around her. Settling on a plan to find her way out, she started scouring the room for an exit.
As she was feeling along the wall with the table, she felt a brick dip under her hand. The girl yelped in surprise and fell backwards as a section of the wall opened, becoming a doorway to a rather gloomy-looking hallway. Her legs were shaky as she stood, poking her head through the doorway. Nothing in either direction but endless hall. She nodded and was off, turning right and down the poorly lit corridor. The walls were a dull gray, metal in looks, but kind of mushy. She pulled her hand away from the wall quickly when she thought she had felt it move under her hand.
"Hello?" the girl called. She only heard the sound of her footsteps and voice echoing back to her in response. Eerie indeed. One of the dim lights above her flickered and she picked up her pace, a chill of fear running down her spine and making her shiver. She wrapped her arms tightly around herself.
----
She wasn't sure how much time had passed, but she felt like she had been walking for an eternity when she came upon the first file. It was labeled 'Necrosis T-1' and held a single piece of paper in it. Thankfully, it was printed in a bold lettering, making it easy for her to read it in the poor lighting.
To: Mr. H
All subjects have perished by the Necrosis T-1 virus. We are currently trying to find a way to make it airborne or at least make enough of it to turn it against our enemies.
The rest of the paper was damaged by a fluid of some kind, but she could clearly make out the big red faded stamp mark that read 'failure' in capital letters. So much for that experiment.
'The fools had no idea what they were doing.'
And then there was that voice again. Wherever it was, whoever it was, it sounded as if the person speaking was seething with rage, as if they knew what happened...
She ignored it and continued walking, hoping to find more information like this. If she were in her right mind, she'd be livid and hysteric and so many other things that describe insane right about now; what with voices in her head, seeing things, and what have you. But some weird instinct told her that she wasn't in her right mind.
----
She had come 236 steps and three body parts when she had found the next file – she had nothing better to do, mind you, other than count her footsteps and random body parts littered throughout the hall. It gave her a sense of stability, and a brief feeling of sickness. This file was marked 'ARMA-1'. Inside was what appeared to be be a mostly blank birth certificate with a black and white photo of a rather small baby girl. Only the name and date of birth were filled in; Arma and December 21st, 1943. The girl studied the photo before looking back at the certificate, and decided that one way or another, the baby in the photo was named Arma and she somehow knew this mysterious woman.
"Ridiculous," she said. This Arma person would either have to be dead or really, really old by now. How, she didn't know. She really needed to find a calendar or something.
'Is it?' the weird voice asked. She shrugged and continued walking, resetting her counting.
----
478 steps, a torso, a puddle of dried blood, and part of a head later, she came to an open door, which held an office beyond it. Knowing she might find answers in there, she started going through everything she possibly could. The file cabinet held lots of file folders, but nothing in them. The desk held pens and blank paper, rubber stamps, ink, and a strange looking flower. She sighed in exasperation, hunching her shoulders and she went to leave, but something stopped her. In the darkest corner was a lone box. She looked around cautiously before making her way over to the box, as careful as a scared cat. The box held more file folders – mostly empty, but there were a few with stuff in them. Quickly, she took them from the box and left the office, feeling like at anytime someone would catch her.
'What a stupid thought. You're the only one here.' she thought to herself.
The first file was marked 'ARMA-6' and held a journal entry and another black and white photograph, this time of a girl of maybe about five. She stopped under a particularly bright spot of light to read the entry, her nose stuck in the file.
May 8th, 1944
Arma is growing up nicely, and quickly. She is already starting to show signs of telekinetic powers and has fully developed the ability to do things beyond human capabilities. Amazing running speeds, strength, hearing; a super soldier in the making. Despite being different from other children, she still acts normal. She's always eager to learn, make new friends, and play games. Her favorite seems to be chess, fitting for such an exquisite young mind. So far, it seems as if she has forgotten the incident with Gene's information and the episode with the camp. Let's hope it stays that way.
She studied the photo for a minute, wondering briefly who Gene was, before moving on to the next file. It was marked 'ARMA-10', and the black and white photo now depicted the girl looking eight years old and quite forlorn. The girl was briefly troubled by the date, but brushed it off.
February 23rd, 1945
Everyone is trying to distract Arma from Gene. She seems distraugh tabout the whole ordeal, even though he has been dead since even before their birth. She stares at the photo of herself as a newborn and then off into space, as if trying to imagine him as a baby, a child, an adult, something. Her episodes are getting more frequent, a month or two apart. We're not sure how many more concentration camps can withstand her fits of outrage; forget the Jews, it's the camps themselves and the soldiers everyone is worried about. It sometimes seems to me that Arma takes on a different personality during these rages, going from a sweet but distraught girl to a bloodthirsty mass of pure hate in the blink of an eye. For our sake, and everyone else's, let's hope she forgets about Gene.
The next was labeled 'ARMA-13'. The girl in the photo was about 16, maybe 17 and looked like she was ready to attack the photographer.
June 19th, 1945
The girl momentarily stopped reading, thinking about how impossible it was for the year to still be 1945...
Arma has lost all sanity, and has been condemned to the strongest facility we have. It's not enough, though. We still have to keep her drugged heavily so she won't escape and destroy everything and everyone in sight. No one is sure how long we can keep this up. She feeds off of human beings, and we can hardly keep her hunger sated long enough to try and make any safe contact with her. The stupid fool, thinking he could just make super beings with the still highly unknown Plasma. I think it's in everyone's best interest if we ter
The rest of the paper had nothing but what appeared to be brownish ink blots on the paper. With a shrill cry of realization, the girl dropped the paper and the files. Photographs spilled out of one, and papers flew from others. That definitely wasn't ink. Seeing movement in front of her, she jumped back, only to find herself staring into the face of an equally scared girl. She looked ragged; her short brown hair was tangled and her gray clothes were dirty. She had what appeared to be blood stains all over her. The girl moved, and the one in front of her moved as well. With a sickening feeling, she came to the conclusion that the girl in front of her was her, and she was staring dead center into a mirror. The girl's, no, her impossibly bright green eyes stared back at her widely from the mirror, horror in them as well as all over her face. This couldn't be happening.
The girl felt a sudden impulse, and acted on it. She gathered the pile of scattered photos and went through them meticulously, studying the girl in the black and white pictures carefully at first. When she hit the fifth picture, she went through them rapidly, letting them flutter to the ground once she was done with them. All but one.
"Impossible." she whispered. She held the picture up next to the mirror, her eyes flitting back and forth between the two. A perfect match, wide eyes and all. The girl – no, Arma – let herself fall to the floor on her knees and let her forehead rest against the cool surface of the mirror. Spying a file next to her, Arma picked it up and began reading it. It was titled 'GEMINI PROJECT', and held a series of entries, data tables, and complicated formula sheets as well as several photos of a deathly looking woman. 'Mother. We never knew her.' She skipped to the last page, which held a summary of the information. One sentence caught her attention in particular;
With the recent threat of biological warfare and discovery of the Black Plasma, the Enema team has found itself able to create possible life of inhuman, and even godly, nature.
Most of the information was washed away in a flurry of confused thoughts in her mind. She figured out that she was one of a set of twins,
but due to complications, the female fetus inexplicably devoured the male fetus. Complications still undetermined.
"I was a lab rat…" she said sorrowfully, letting the file drop to the floor.
'We are gods.' the voice in the back of her mind spat, louder than ever. The file next to it was the last one, and titled 'PHONEIX'. Just one piece of paper lay in it's confines.
September 5th, 1945
Official status of GEMINI PROJECT is scrapped, and it is determined that we have created gods. Evil ones. As for Armageddon's twin that was supposedly devoured before birth, we found him. Genesis was there all along. The rage behind the machine. We have to put Armageddon to sleep. It's our only option. We can't kill her; all that will do is bring about Genesis – like a phoenix rising from the ashes. I see it now. He purposely created them this way, as a plan to bring about a new order, a new world. Through a new extreme. Armageddon, just like her name, would be the vessel to bring about the end. She would die… and then Genesis would rise to take over and begin everything anew. An extreme holocaust, one that would rid the world of ife and create a new world to his liking. Lord, I only hope that we can put her in hibernation in time, and I pray that no one finds her. And if they do… well, at least I'll already be gone.
The last sentence explained the blood splatter on the page, then. Arma hugged herself tightly as the words on the page started to blur, a result of the tears forming in her eyes. It wasn't fair. None of it was fair.
'That's right, get angry.' The voice whispered. And angry she got. She looked into the mirror and was unsurprised to find her eyes changing; it was as if her pupils were leaking into the rest of her eyes before swallowing the colors in a black mass. Her teeth became misshapen, like shark teeth.
The last thing Arma saw before she blacked out was a broken mirror, and her grinning face looking back at her from a thousand little broken slivers.
----
Arma blinked up at the sky groggily. Wait – sky? She sat up carefully, already feeling her injuries starting to heal. It felt as if her skin and bones were tingling warmly. She looked around and saw destruction all around her. The building she was in before was nothing but a pile of rubble, and the next few blocks as well. If she looked, she could see the remains of people caught in whatever onslaught she released, their blood splattered over everything. She stood and froze.
"Hands up, kid." a man in a metal suit said to her, a rather large looking laser blaster aimed at her. Not knowing what else to do, she put her hands above her head slowly. She hiccuped and it was only then that she realized she was crying.
"P-please," she begged, taking a step forward.
"Stop right there." a redheaded woman said in a clipped tone. She was also dressed in armor, and held a machine gun at the ready. Her scowl was fierce, and froze Arma to the rubble she was standing on.
"I don't trust her," she heard a man with a mere handgun – or was it? – murmur to the woman. It was obvious it wasn't meant for Arma to hear, because he shifted nervously when she barred her teeth. She didn't know what had happened, but she was suddenly pinning the man to the ground, hands around his throat. Insane indeed.
"Andy!" she heard the woman scream, hearing her boots as they hit the ground running toward them. Arma didn't even have a chance to look up before a wall of muscle and metal hit her squarely in the face, sending her flying into the air. She tumbled onto the ground and rolled into a standing position. Her jaw felt broken for a few moments before the warm tingling returned and the pain faded. Arma scowled and started towards the team, deflecting a few projectiles launched her way.
She hesitated, feeling a lurching in her chest. It was all the time the man with the laser needed to blow a hole right through her chest, obliterating her heart, most of her lungs, and a good portion of her vertebrae and spinal cord. She coughed and sputtered, gasping like a fish out of water. She felt the warm tingling again, but it was too late for the healing to take effect. Arma fell to her knees, and then onto her face, her head turning as she fell. She stared at the wreckage that was at ground level before her vision went blurry, and then black.
----
In the depths of an unknown housing facility, a lone guard stood in front of a room. He found it ironic that he was guarding a room that contained only a metal box. But he didn't question it. He'd seen stranger things in this one facility to last him a lifetime. He was quietly musing over the many strange goings-on that had happened there over the years when he heard it. It was the unmistakable sound of metal being ripped apart, and boy did he know what that sounded like.
"Redbird requesting backup on floor ten, sector seven, over." the man said into the radio strapped to his shoulder as he spun around and backed up away from the door, positioning his gun just so. Nothing but static feedback came through on his radio.
"Redbird requesting backup on floor ten, sector seven. This is not a drill, I repeat this is not a drill. There's some serious-" the man yelped and rolled away just as the thick steel door collided with the wall he was in front of moments ago.
"What the-!" he shot his gun at the thing bouncing off the walls and ceiling, somehow managing to miss it every time. It landed on the floor in a macabre parody of gracefulness, and the man nearly fainted.
The creature was a boy of somewhere between five and eight. It had hellish features; bloodshot eyes, pointed ears, rows upon rows of shark teeth, and even little wings poking out from it's back. It waved, it's hands and feet sharp, pointed claws. It grinned menacingly, the man screamed, and it pounced upon him, sinking it's teeth into his neck. The faint sound of someone's voice blanketed in thick static could be faintly heard over the fallen man's radio, which was now being consumed in a pool of blood;
"Ned! Ned! Get the hell out of there! Hurry!"
Fin.
The girl screamed at the sight of it and threw herself against the wall behind her, screaming a continuous montage of "Oh God no!" and "I don't want to die!" as she backed into a corner. In her hysteria, she cut up her fingers trying to claw at the cement, which made her howl with pain and fear. But the pain grounded her and forced her to calm down, the pain was real and right there. Nursing her bleeding fingers against her chest, she curled up against the corner. Hemophobia. She knew she was afraid of blood. Maybe not her own, but of random blood in the corner of an unknown room? Yes, definitely.
Avoiding the bloody corner, her gaze traveled the room again. On the mattress was a small object. She realized she must have missed seeing it in the state of panic she was in. Carefully standing, she walked over to the stained mattress and shoved all thoughts of what the stains might be aside. She wiped her hands tenderly on her gray shirt and was amazed to find that they were only radiating a dull thud of pain, one easily ignored. She gasped at her hands when she found that they were nearly healed, and she could swear up and down that humans absolutely could not heal that fast. Or.. maybe she could? Maybe she was a fast healer? She couldn't remember.
Her newly healed hands picked up the object -now finding that it was a recorder- cautiously, as if it might bite her if handled incorrectly. She pressed the 'Play' button, and turned up the volume as high as it would go. There was a fit of static before a man's gruff voice came over the tiny speaker. The recording sounded faded and worn, as if it was recorded a long time ago.
"September 24th, 1943
The test subjects are in their final trimester of conception. In a mere three months time, more or less, the twins will be born and the results of the experiment shall be put to the test. If all goes well, we shall have super beings of our own."
1943? Did she hear that right? She had no sense of time, but she knew it just wasn't 1943... or anywhere close to that time frame for that matter. Call it intuition, but she had a strong pull at her gut that she just couldn't ignore. She dropped the recorder on the bed as she pondered this new information. And what was this about super beings and twins? Experimentation?
'World War II, dummy.'
She looked up and around, expecting to see someone standing in the room with her. She saw and heard no one. Experimentation on twins... World War II... super beings... Oh.
"I learned about that in school." she said aloud, but nearly choked when she found she couldn't remember when she had been to school. She shook her head harshly until the room seemed to spin around her. Settling on a plan to find her way out, she started scouring the room for an exit.
As she was feeling along the wall with the table, she felt a brick dip under her hand. The girl yelped in surprise and fell backwards as a section of the wall opened, becoming a doorway to a rather gloomy-looking hallway. Her legs were shaky as she stood, poking her head through the doorway. Nothing in either direction but endless hall. She nodded and was off, turning right and down the poorly lit corridor. The walls were a dull gray, metal in looks, but kind of mushy. She pulled her hand away from the wall quickly when she thought she had felt it move under her hand.
"Hello?" the girl called. She only heard the sound of her footsteps and voice echoing back to her in response. Eerie indeed. One of the dim lights above her flickered and she picked up her pace, a chill of fear running down her spine and making her shiver. She wrapped her arms tightly around herself.
----
She wasn't sure how much time had passed, but she felt like she had been walking for an eternity when she came upon the first file. It was labeled 'Necrosis T-1' and held a single piece of paper in it. Thankfully, it was printed in a bold lettering, making it easy for her to read it in the poor lighting.
To: Mr. H
All subjects have perished by the Necrosis T-1 virus. We are currently trying to find a way to make it airborne or at least make enough of it to turn it against our enemies.
The rest of the paper was damaged by a fluid of some kind, but she could clearly make out the big red faded stamp mark that read 'failure' in capital letters. So much for that experiment.
'The fools had no idea what they were doing.'
And then there was that voice again. Wherever it was, whoever it was, it sounded as if the person speaking was seething with rage, as if they knew what happened...
She ignored it and continued walking, hoping to find more information like this. If she were in her right mind, she'd be livid and hysteric and so many other things that describe insane right about now; what with voices in her head, seeing things, and what have you. But some weird instinct told her that she wasn't in her right mind.
----
She had come 236 steps and three body parts when she had found the next file – she had nothing better to do, mind you, other than count her footsteps and random body parts littered throughout the hall. It gave her a sense of stability, and a brief feeling of sickness. This file was marked 'ARMA-1'. Inside was what appeared to be be a mostly blank birth certificate with a black and white photo of a rather small baby girl. Only the name and date of birth were filled in; Arma and December 21st, 1943. The girl studied the photo before looking back at the certificate, and decided that one way or another, the baby in the photo was named Arma and she somehow knew this mysterious woman.
"Ridiculous," she said. This Arma person would either have to be dead or really, really old by now. How, she didn't know. She really needed to find a calendar or something.
'Is it?' the weird voice asked. She shrugged and continued walking, resetting her counting.
----
478 steps, a torso, a puddle of dried blood, and part of a head later, she came to an open door, which held an office beyond it. Knowing she might find answers in there, she started going through everything she possibly could. The file cabinet held lots of file folders, but nothing in them. The desk held pens and blank paper, rubber stamps, ink, and a strange looking flower. She sighed in exasperation, hunching her shoulders and she went to leave, but something stopped her. In the darkest corner was a lone box. She looked around cautiously before making her way over to the box, as careful as a scared cat. The box held more file folders – mostly empty, but there were a few with stuff in them. Quickly, she took them from the box and left the office, feeling like at anytime someone would catch her.
'What a stupid thought. You're the only one here.' she thought to herself.
The first file was marked 'ARMA-6' and held a journal entry and another black and white photograph, this time of a girl of maybe about five. She stopped under a particularly bright spot of light to read the entry, her nose stuck in the file.
May 8th, 1944
Arma is growing up nicely, and quickly. She is already starting to show signs of telekinetic powers and has fully developed the ability to do things beyond human capabilities. Amazing running speeds, strength, hearing; a super soldier in the making. Despite being different from other children, she still acts normal. She's always eager to learn, make new friends, and play games. Her favorite seems to be chess, fitting for such an exquisite young mind. So far, it seems as if she has forgotten the incident with Gene's information and the episode with the camp. Let's hope it stays that way.
She studied the photo for a minute, wondering briefly who Gene was, before moving on to the next file. It was marked 'ARMA-10', and the black and white photo now depicted the girl looking eight years old and quite forlorn. The girl was briefly troubled by the date, but brushed it off.
February 23rd, 1945
Everyone is trying to distract Arma from Gene. She seems distraugh tabout the whole ordeal, even though he has been dead since even before their birth. She stares at the photo of herself as a newborn and then off into space, as if trying to imagine him as a baby, a child, an adult, something. Her episodes are getting more frequent, a month or two apart. We're not sure how many more concentration camps can withstand her fits of outrage; forget the Jews, it's the camps themselves and the soldiers everyone is worried about. It sometimes seems to me that Arma takes on a different personality during these rages, going from a sweet but distraught girl to a bloodthirsty mass of pure hate in the blink of an eye. For our sake, and everyone else's, let's hope she forgets about Gene.
The next was labeled 'ARMA-13'. The girl in the photo was about 16, maybe 17 and looked like she was ready to attack the photographer.
June 19th, 1945
The girl momentarily stopped reading, thinking about how impossible it was for the year to still be 1945...
Arma has lost all sanity, and has been condemned to the strongest facility we have. It's not enough, though. We still have to keep her drugged heavily so she won't escape and destroy everything and everyone in sight. No one is sure how long we can keep this up. She feeds off of human beings, and we can hardly keep her hunger sated long enough to try and make any safe contact with her. The stupid fool, thinking he could just make super beings with the still highly unknown Plasma. I think it's in everyone's best interest if we ter
The rest of the paper had nothing but what appeared to be brownish ink blots on the paper. With a shrill cry of realization, the girl dropped the paper and the files. Photographs spilled out of one, and papers flew from others. That definitely wasn't ink. Seeing movement in front of her, she jumped back, only to find herself staring into the face of an equally scared girl. She looked ragged; her short brown hair was tangled and her gray clothes were dirty. She had what appeared to be blood stains all over her. The girl moved, and the one in front of her moved as well. With a sickening feeling, she came to the conclusion that the girl in front of her was her, and she was staring dead center into a mirror. The girl's, no, her impossibly bright green eyes stared back at her widely from the mirror, horror in them as well as all over her face. This couldn't be happening.
The girl felt a sudden impulse, and acted on it. She gathered the pile of scattered photos and went through them meticulously, studying the girl in the black and white pictures carefully at first. When she hit the fifth picture, she went through them rapidly, letting them flutter to the ground once she was done with them. All but one.
"Impossible." she whispered. She held the picture up next to the mirror, her eyes flitting back and forth between the two. A perfect match, wide eyes and all. The girl – no, Arma – let herself fall to the floor on her knees and let her forehead rest against the cool surface of the mirror. Spying a file next to her, Arma picked it up and began reading it. It was titled 'GEMINI PROJECT', and held a series of entries, data tables, and complicated formula sheets as well as several photos of a deathly looking woman. 'Mother. We never knew her.' She skipped to the last page, which held a summary of the information. One sentence caught her attention in particular;
With the recent threat of biological warfare and discovery of the Black Plasma, the Enema team has found itself able to create possible life of inhuman, and even godly, nature.
Most of the information was washed away in a flurry of confused thoughts in her mind. She figured out that she was one of a set of twins,
but due to complications, the female fetus inexplicably devoured the male fetus. Complications still undetermined.
"I was a lab rat…" she said sorrowfully, letting the file drop to the floor.
'We are gods.' the voice in the back of her mind spat, louder than ever. The file next to it was the last one, and titled 'PHONEIX'. Just one piece of paper lay in it's confines.
September 5th, 1945
Official status of GEMINI PROJECT is scrapped, and it is determined that we have created gods. Evil ones. As for Armageddon's twin that was supposedly devoured before birth, we found him. Genesis was there all along. The rage behind the machine. We have to put Armageddon to sleep. It's our only option. We can't kill her; all that will do is bring about Genesis – like a phoenix rising from the ashes. I see it now. He purposely created them this way, as a plan to bring about a new order, a new world. Through a new extreme. Armageddon, just like her name, would be the vessel to bring about the end. She would die… and then Genesis would rise to take over and begin everything anew. An extreme holocaust, one that would rid the world of ife and create a new world to his liking. Lord, I only hope that we can put her in hibernation in time, and I pray that no one finds her. And if they do… well, at least I'll already be gone.
The last sentence explained the blood splatter on the page, then. Arma hugged herself tightly as the words on the page started to blur, a result of the tears forming in her eyes. It wasn't fair. None of it was fair.
'That's right, get angry.' The voice whispered. And angry she got. She looked into the mirror and was unsurprised to find her eyes changing; it was as if her pupils were leaking into the rest of her eyes before swallowing the colors in a black mass. Her teeth became misshapen, like shark teeth.
The last thing Arma saw before she blacked out was a broken mirror, and her grinning face looking back at her from a thousand little broken slivers.
----
Arma blinked up at the sky groggily. Wait – sky? She sat up carefully, already feeling her injuries starting to heal. It felt as if her skin and bones were tingling warmly. She looked around and saw destruction all around her. The building she was in before was nothing but a pile of rubble, and the next few blocks as well. If she looked, she could see the remains of people caught in whatever onslaught she released, their blood splattered over everything. She stood and froze.
"Hands up, kid." a man in a metal suit said to her, a rather large looking laser blaster aimed at her. Not knowing what else to do, she put her hands above her head slowly. She hiccuped and it was only then that she realized she was crying.
"P-please," she begged, taking a step forward.
"Stop right there." a redheaded woman said in a clipped tone. She was also dressed in armor, and held a machine gun at the ready. Her scowl was fierce, and froze Arma to the rubble she was standing on.
"I don't trust her," she heard a man with a mere handgun – or was it? – murmur to the woman. It was obvious it wasn't meant for Arma to hear, because he shifted nervously when she barred her teeth. She didn't know what had happened, but she was suddenly pinning the man to the ground, hands around his throat. Insane indeed.
"Andy!" she heard the woman scream, hearing her boots as they hit the ground running toward them. Arma didn't even have a chance to look up before a wall of muscle and metal hit her squarely in the face, sending her flying into the air. She tumbled onto the ground and rolled into a standing position. Her jaw felt broken for a few moments before the warm tingling returned and the pain faded. Arma scowled and started towards the team, deflecting a few projectiles launched her way.
She hesitated, feeling a lurching in her chest. It was all the time the man with the laser needed to blow a hole right through her chest, obliterating her heart, most of her lungs, and a good portion of her vertebrae and spinal cord. She coughed and sputtered, gasping like a fish out of water. She felt the warm tingling again, but it was too late for the healing to take effect. Arma fell to her knees, and then onto her face, her head turning as she fell. She stared at the wreckage that was at ground level before her vision went blurry, and then black.
----
In the depths of an unknown housing facility, a lone guard stood in front of a room. He found it ironic that he was guarding a room that contained only a metal box. But he didn't question it. He'd seen stranger things in this one facility to last him a lifetime. He was quietly musing over the many strange goings-on that had happened there over the years when he heard it. It was the unmistakable sound of metal being ripped apart, and boy did he know what that sounded like.
"Redbird requesting backup on floor ten, sector seven, over." the man said into the radio strapped to his shoulder as he spun around and backed up away from the door, positioning his gun just so. Nothing but static feedback came through on his radio.
"Redbird requesting backup on floor ten, sector seven. This is not a drill, I repeat this is not a drill. There's some serious-" the man yelped and rolled away just as the thick steel door collided with the wall he was in front of moments ago.
"What the-!" he shot his gun at the thing bouncing off the walls and ceiling, somehow managing to miss it every time. It landed on the floor in a macabre parody of gracefulness, and the man nearly fainted.
The creature was a boy of somewhere between five and eight. It had hellish features; bloodshot eyes, pointed ears, rows upon rows of shark teeth, and even little wings poking out from it's back. It waved, it's hands and feet sharp, pointed claws. It grinned menacingly, the man screamed, and it pounced upon him, sinking it's teeth into his neck. The faint sound of someone's voice blanketed in thick static could be faintly heard over the fallen man's radio, which was now being consumed in a pool of blood;
"Ned! Ned! Get the hell out of there! Hurry!"
Fin.
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Written as an english assignment, and was originially supposed to be a fanfic. Thought I'd share.