The Terrific Soldier:
The old man in the corner of the room was speaking again.
"This time it will be the fingers," he said, "much, much more painful, of course."
His wheezing voice always held a measure of excitement when he spoke of pain.
"But remember, my boy, keep that performance score above 98, eh? To the true soldier pain is not a hindrance but an ally, to sharpen your mind and strengthen your determination."
He turns towards me and smiles, a ghastly smile behind thick glass lenses that hide his eyes. I swear at times like these he's not human...
The Screaming Boy:
PAIN!!! Searing, burning pain! Pain that makes my stomach heave and clench; pain radiating through my entire body, a hot, white, vicious heat focused on my middle finger but felt everywhere...everywhere...
Ah gods! I can't take this!! I have to scream!! I have to scream!!...Have to tell him to stop! But it's... too late...he's bent my finger all the way back! It's hanging at an impossible angle...and now the next one - Gods HELP ME!!!! STOP!!! STOPSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOP!!!!!! I scream and scream but no one helps; why won't anyone help??? Someone...please...HELP ME...!!!!!!!
The Terrific Soldier:
I make note of the fact that he's quieter now. At least, his ability to gain my attention has been sharply diminished; whether the volume of his screams has change really doesn't concern me. I remember in the beginning. I was very small then and couldn't do anything but listen to the horrible sounds he would make. Even then, though, I was strong. Time after time, while he screamed and screamed, I told him he was a weakling, that he deserved to feel that pain, given the way he acted, given the person he was - a soft, pretty boy whose only thoughts were toys and playmates. But I had a soulmate in the room with me. I had Dr. J, who knew from the start that my strength could only emerge under the sharpest whetstone, the hottest fire. "Burn away the excess, boy, and what emerges is only the finest," he would tell me.
And that's what I am. The finest.
I let the voice of the screaming boy surround me, screening out all other distractions while I perform a training sequence at the cockpit controls with my good hand. I tell the screaming boy to help me, to speed the fingers for the remaining key sequences, and he does. He does. He obeys me now, and I have him well-trained. "Yes old man," I think as I complete the test, "you and I have got that screaming boy right where we want him."
I bettered my time by 250 milliseconds, but I made one mistake. I'll have to talk to the boy about this...
xoxox owari xoxox
(:./kumiko/2shot2)
