Duo Perspectivae

Skeletons. Curse. Murders. Follow Tike Henezingson on her twisted journey with the worst friend ever. From the electric fence of the compound where she meets her father, to the exotic, hidden jungle of her friends' hideout, Tike must find a way to rid herself of her age-old curse. Will she survive? Will she become a murderer, just like her friends? And will she ever find a way to live happily with her whole family?


6. A New Office, A New Daughter and A New Hatrid

Russell Henezingson, Day 30 of My Journal.


I clutched the sides of the faux leather seat as my daughter swiftly pushed open the soft, mahogany door and prowled around the room, delaying the meeting as best she could. "Hello, Mr President." She turned the chair around to face her and I tried not to look directly into her eyes, scared she'd blow my chance of seeing how great at her job she actually was, how much of a challenge she'd be if I ever survived our little... Reunion. "I believe we've met before." Yeah, every time you guys needed some more training you infiltrate the base. I know, I've read it in the system files when I accidentally hacked the database rather than the smaller files for a nightclub on my first assignment with Birch. She stared at me, as if trying to study me behind the American cage. "I need you to tell me some information, but I know you won't give it up easily." What if want to? What if I don't actually know about the information you need to complete the mission? What if I- No. I need to stop thinking like myself and start thinking like the President Obama.


"What do you need to know, Ms?" I dreaded to think back to all the useless information I had found in the American system files (Another contact, this particular one about Subject 16782).

"I need to know about Subject 16783. I believe you've heard of her?" Damn. The one thing in the American Database they didn't cover the Buffalo State Asylum, world-renowned for the ability to trap and keep the most dangerous mentally insane people away from the many wonders of he world. I quickly racked my brain for the information I had found in the mentally insane people survey I did in 2001, and this is what i came up with:


Subject 16783 was very good at what she did. Being annoying. She was never suspected by anyone as being different from the others in the Asylum. By being annoying. She always got in the way of the contracts and kills of others. By being annoying. She was always friendly with her comrades. By being annoy- Hey! That's not fair. Anyway, she as classified in the special database as being 'Very valuable and extreme caution should be taken when handling her'. The American police had obviously had a problem with her and her fantasy for large murder streaks in Lunenburg (She had something against fishing due to an unfortunate accident for her 15th Birthday). She was now very famous on the American news, and for at least a year was on the front page of the news paper and the television.


But there's one thing the American police always miss. The special properties about a murderer or just any criminal in particular. They never check the blood pressure. They never check the wounds and birthmarks on the body of a criminal. The never check the physical insanity of the poor person in question. She'd had her difference since.. Well since the first AI interference of 2015. She'd been 'Upgraded' by the cyborgs several times that year, and now had the chance to-

"So.. Mr President, tell me, how do you feel about Subject 16783, and what are you going to tell me about her? I'd love to know. Honestly." Well, I've always wanted to tell my daughter about mentally insane people from the American database of Criminals (Yes, it's that easy to hack. She could do it herself when she was 10. Trust me, I almost let her). "I am not comfortable with sharing this information with one of my own security guards who should still remember the talk she got when she was 20." That ought to work. Time to mess with her brain, like I always say, with age comes wisdom. And frailty. Mostly wisdom.


I didn't have much time. Really, because within 2 seconds I was on the floor looking up at the tiled polystyrene ceiling as she circled around me monologuing, almost as if we were in Sherlock. I thought of several kicks and punches that could knock her out in under a second, yet knowing her, she'd be able to think of several blocking methods within the time it took for me to even set up the kick or punch in question, she is my daughter after all. I looked around, trying not to look directly at her because I was scared she might realise it was me and kill me even more mercilessly than if I was the President of the U.S.A.  I realised that her new skin was somewhat... Cuter than I had expected, it suited her too. The clothing she was wearing seemed mildly inappropriate because it was way too small for her new body.


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