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?


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1. Lost

Tike Henezingson, Day 1 of my Diary.

 

"Hello... Father?" He stared at me through jagged fence, electrified and buzzing away. His eyes didn't want to let me go. We stayed in our... hug for quite some time, long enough, at least for the black shadow of Public Enemy #1 to creep up behind me. "Tik-" And that was the last thing he said to me, or at least before I turned over a new leaf. Began a new life. It was the fence that got him, if you were wondering, not me, or Miss Public Enemy, she of course was the one who stopped me falling onto him, to let the same 3002.5W of pure energy surge through my body. She who saved my life, only to ruin it a second time.

 

I had wanted to go paint-balling for my 15th birthday. A chance to meet up with the lads and show them that we girls have it in for them, of course, I couldn't do it on my own, how ever much 'Call of Duty' or 'Modern Warfare 2' I'd been playing. Oh, I could've whooped their asses if they only gave me a semi-automatic. This was all part of my training, she said. I remember it as if it was yesterday.  Did I mention that Public Enemy #1 is a woman? Russian, but nevertheless a woman. All the boys at the facility fall to her knees. Quite funny really, though not all for love.

 

We found ourselves a 22 carat gold bullet, engraved, you might say, stuck in the back of the head of her latest relationship.

"Never again! Never again Kyari-" The bullet cut him off. The sweet, sweet sound ricocheting, bouncing off the walls of the safe house. But it isn't really a safe house, for the boys or us that work for her. She's like a mum to me now.  We're all part of one massive family, a family of murder and lies and mysterious enemies. Handing me a trench -gun, she held on to it for one second too long. Almost unsure of her choice. The Bastard, she called it - the metallic barrel pointing towards where my rebel comrade, hopefully, was still waiting for the cue word. 

 

She handed me a pamphlet, with rainbows and ponies on the cover. Ugh. The... old... days. The pamphlet was my next contract, but something was wrong. The line on my comms unit had gone dead. I could just hear the frantic panicking of HQ in the background. Something had happened to Markov. I looked around, trying to make it look natural, but somewhat failing badly. 

 

I couldn't feel it. You know, when the 21 carat gold bullet met my insides, not for the first time either. I couldn't feel the Tranq Gun, when Borris put too much of the painkiller-anti-septic abomination inside, and when he drove it into my chest, I could see the skin give way. She called medic, but I didn't hear her. The doctors took precisely 5.2 seconds to come, but all I could see was the man. Only about 6" 10 staring at me when the mini procession passed by him. An impressive M24 lying on his across his knees.

"Well hello there," He said, over the static of the comms, cut off yet again by a connection failure.

 

I'd always wanted to know what a coma feels like. And now, I get front row seats. Sit down, have some popcorn, the show's only just begun,

 

So that was my holodeck experience of the day over and done with. The doctors were rushing around me, stabbing me with this, that and everything else in the emergency lab case. Apparently the Bullet Simulation 1841 is a bit outdated by... 260 years, and a tad too much realistic, but I wasn't worried. At least, not much. I felt a sudden pang to see my Dad, even though I knew what the fence did to him. Only by some small miracle he would have survived. Good. My future plans would be much easier to accomplish now he's gone. However, it was Ross this time who stabbed me with a very strong anti-toxin. I hate injections. He said I was great, almost made me feel sad. I haven't felt emotion since... Well, since troopers had a very close experience with Doctor Frangits' new lab mix up.

 

But that was then. This, is now. It's time to stop these silly daydreams into the very far away past, that wouldn't do the FBI any good, let alone myself. The alchemist, they called him. They being the monsters who took me in, injected themselves into my life, and the bacteria into my bloodstream. And that, my friend, is where my emotions, my feelings my very personality, all that gooey stuff went to for... Testing, I presume.

 

Yet even now, I still feel the very same alien arthropods inside the very same bacteria, squirming around screaming to escape my bloody cage of a body. My skeleton... Tingled and jolted again, and I sighed for the 666th time this year. Yes, I count my sighs for the FBI, and yes my skeleton has a mind of its' own and someday, maybe next week, it will break free. And I thought that animal testing was bad. 

 

Well, flashbacks are bad, aren't they? I'm currently stuck in a small, Danish hospital bed with... Male... Doctors and a few Nurses and a salted Danish pastry. Mmm, I haven't had one of those in... How long now? Oh, I'm bad now... What, like, 10 years? Sounds about right. She pulled out a small Nokia E61 and dialled for a taxi. I looked out of one of the poor, broken windows and saw a hobo man, with a shiny pink electric guitar shredding out beats from the 50's onwards. She walked out the hospital door and threw a fiver into the old man's farmer hat, she began her age-long wait for the taxi driver. She felt my eyes boring into her back, turned around and gave me a small wink before zooming off into her taxi.

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