| abstract
| - Klaus Meyer was physically pathetic, to the point where the very fact that he chose to join the Red Ribbon army was mystifying to most. He didn't have the lean, powerful body that one would expect from a Red Ribbon Army Volunteer. Instead, he resembled five strands of spaghetti glued to each other, with a flat layer of blond hair at the top. Naturally, he was mocked by nearly everyone around him, but one man in particular made it his life's purpose to cause Klaus as much pain as he could inflict. His went by the name General Orange, his actual name was all but irrelevant to himself and everyone else. He was a tall, wide man, who appeared less like a human, and more like a brick that had learned to talk, but only knew enough about human speech to say venomous insults directed at Klaus. Today, he was feeling particularly enraged. He was instructing a small squad of recruits, that Klaus had the misfortune to be on. "Now listen up, maggots," Orange screamed through his megaphone, his already booming voice now sounding like a some god screaming his commandments from the heavens. "Today, I'm going to put you through hell. Do you understand?" "Sir, yes sir!" the recruits shouted in unison, staring at the course in front of them. They would have to climb up a rock wall, before climbing through a pit of mud back on the ground. And to make it more unpleasant, they would have to listen to General Orange's voice, the sound of which could be compared to having someone jam their fist into your ear. Orange blew into his whistle, the shrill sound ravaging the eardrums of his recruits, as they almost instantly sprung into action, each one racing towards the rock wall with unimaginable and nearly inhuman swiftness. Everyone, except Klaus, at least. In his clumsy attempt to start as strong as the other recruits, he found his legs aflame, and his lungs feeling like someone was slowly dragging a dagger along them. He placed his hands upon his knees, panting like an animal. "Run faster, faggot!" Orange screamed. Orange's insult was like a shot of adrenaline. Klaus was propelled by his own rage. His hatred rejuvenated him, giving him the strength to propel himself to the rock wall. His small, weak fists clutched one rock after another, using his toothpick-thin arms and legs to pull himself to the top. He felt a need to vomit, but his stomach was completely empty, so he ended up releasing pathetic, dry gags, like the noise a man would make right after he was choked to death. He climbed the rope down from the rock wall. The other recruits had already finished the course. He looked at their mud-drenched bodies with envy. He wished he could be like them, the one waiting at the finish line for the pathetic, worthless wimp to finish, instead of being the pathetic worthless wimp that failed to finish. He looked at the pit of mud with repulsion. Nothing that General Orange could do to would possibly be worse than bathing himself in the filthy, bubbling mud below him. "Ugh, there's no way!" he said. General Orange growled and muttered several filthy things beneath his breath. Pieces of his megaphone scattered everywhere as it smashed against the ground, thrown from the hands of a red-faced General Orange. Klaus felt a set of impossibly strong fingers wrap around the back of his head. Before he could react, he felt the warm, filthy disgusting feeling of the mud surround his entire head. He opened his mouth to scream, but he only found it filled with more of the repulsive substance. He gagged, and closed his mouth. Finally, Orange loosened his grip. Klaus pulled himself out, gagging. From behind the cover of mud that caked his face, warm and vengeful tears descended from his blue eyes. His puny fists were clenched so tightly that Klaus could feel the throbbing within his hand. He wanted to smash his hands into Orange's face, to watch his head explode while his skull cracked into an infinite number of fragments. But alas, Orange was a monster, and he was but a man. Not even. He was a disgrace. He sighed, turning back towards Orange, waiting for him to give him his next instruction. "Go back to the barracks" he said. "You too!" he shouted at the other recruits. The recruits dispersed, with the exception of Klaus. He couldn't hold himself back. Klaus held his hand out in front of him, raising his middle finger into the air, directly at Orange's face. Orange was so absurdly infuriated that any attempt to describe it would be futile. Orange wrapped his inhumanly massive hand around Klaus's neck. Without a word, he squeezed tighter and tighter. Klaus tried to gasp, but Orange's hand allow him not a single breath of air. His face began to turn a sickening shade of purple. He gagged, and felt a tunnel close around him...black and endless... "Stop," a voice said. Orange turned around, and released Klaus. He fell to the ground pathetically. The voice was slightly dry and gravely, but wise. Not wise in the way that a martial arts master would be, but wise in the malevolent genius sense. And indeed, this man was a malevolent genius. His name was Doctor Gero, one of the top scientists for the Red Ribbon Army. His face was weathered, almost craggy, as if he had spent most of his life in direct sunlight. He had a large, white mustache between his upper lip and nose, and dirty white hair that reached down to his shoulders. "I need the boy for later," he said, glancing down at Klaus's body. "Why? He could barely lift 20 pounds. I don't see what good he'd be," Orange responded. "Are you questioning me?" Gero asked, his voice now authoritative. Orange sighed. "Now, please refrain from attempting to kill him in the future," Gero said before turning away from Orange and pacing back towards his lab. "He said I couldn't kill you" Orange said, both eyes now pointed at the partially lifeless body of Klaus. "He never said that I couldn't beat you within an inch of your life. Remember that. Now get your faggot ass back to the barracks." "Mph!" was all Klaus could say. Klaus returned to the barracks, and slipped into his bed. He wrapped his hands around the edge of the bed, squeezing with all of his strength. He felt so weak, so hopeless. Orange could do anything he wanted to him that Gero would let him get away with, all because he was lucky enough to be born a monster of a man. That's all it was, luck. Power is decided only by the flip of a coin, and Klaus's coin was stuck tails-up eternally. It was all so unfair. All of it and everything. He wanted to hurt Orange in any way possible. He didn't just want to hurt him, he wanted to burn him, to cause him astronomical amounts of pain. But he couldn't, because the universe decided to fuck him over. "Goddammit" he whispered to himself. He rose from his bed, put a jacket on himself, and stepped outside into the cold, crisp air. He took a deep breath. He saw a squirrel dart in front of him. His eyes were immediately fixed upon it, and they refused to move, no matter how the squirrel moved. He swiftly lunged at it, and through sheer luck, managed to catch the squirming creature in his hands. He stared at it, letting bizarre, almost girlish giggles out. First, he dug his thin fingers into the creature's eyes. It shrieked out in pain, which only caused Klaus's eyes to widen in a childlike state of wonder. Blood squirted from the creature's eyes and onto his hand. He imagined this thing was General Orange, small, vulnerable, nothing more than a toy to break and throw away. He was the powerful one now, he was the one in control, the one pushing his face into the mud. He squeezed just a bit tighter, accidentally crushing the creature's entire head. Various repulsive bodily fluids dripped onto Klaus's shirt, which he quickly removed. Without a single empathetic thought towards the creature, he made his way back to the barracks. Klaus's small stature and pitiful weight gave him an advantage, allowing him to slip back in without the floor creaking once. His hand wrapped around the doorknob to the bathroom, twisting it with immense caution. He took a silent leap, landing in the bathroom. He ran his hand under the perpetually frigid sink water, washing away the red that stained his hands. The blood seeped into the drain, no doubt being carried off somewhere, out of the sights and minds of everyone and anyone important. His sin was invisible, dissolved in an infinite sea of water, just like all the others. He departed towards his bed, his urge to kill and torture finally satisfied. He shut his eyes and enjoyed a peaceful sleep, his dreams filled with fantasies of Orange being killed in a variety of indescribably horrific ways. Elsewhere, Orange stumbled into Gero's lab, his fists clenched as always. Gero gave him a brief glare of contempt before once again burying his face in his work. Orange slammed his hand down on Gero's desk. Gero gave him another hateful look before asking "What do you want?" "I have orders directly from Commander Red," he said, the good doctor retreating back into his papers. "Yes, what does he want? Doesn't he know that I'm busy?" "He wants answers," he snarled. "Like what you're planning to do with that blond kid." "I told you, I have my reasons, and they're too complex for a simpleton like you to understand." "What did you just call me?" he screamed, drops of spittle flying into Gero's face, which he flicked off with a quiet rage. "I don't think you understand what I'm saying, old man," Orange said. "If the commander doesn't get answers, it's gonna be your ass on the line." Gero sighed. "If you must," he said. "I'm working on a scientific training method, to improve our weakest soldiers into some of our strongest. Klaus was simply an ideal candidate for this program. I did not want to tell Red until I finished perfecting the method, but now you've forced me to. Now, run along, tell the Commander what he wants to know, and leave me to my work." "Fine, but Red doesn't want you keeping any more secrets from him, understand?" Gero grunted, his mustache twitching. It was the closest thing he could offer to a "yes" as he was already fully absorbed into his notes. When he was in this state of focus, it would take nothing short of a gunshot to snap him out of it. Klaus laid on his bed, attempting to twirl what little hair he had in his tightly cut flat-top, whistling a tune to himself. In the few days since his encounter with the squirrel, Orange seemed to be kinder to him. Sure, he was still as abusive as ever, but his wrath seemed to be spread out, instead of Klaus being singled out as his least favorite. Klaus was still experiencing a kind of low, bubbling misery, but it was manageable, at least. Klaus lifted up his pillow to fluff it. At this point, he thought, he deserved a comfortable sleep. He spotted something underneath his pillow. He saw that it was a small piece of paper, with a note written on it. It read: "I saw what you did. Meet me in room R-12. -Gero" Klaus gulped. He dragged himself towards room R-12, his frail body twitching. He had to stop twice on the way, to vomit. Eventually, he managed to calm himself down. A soldier's duty was to kill, after all, and that is all he did. Or perhaps Gero was referring to something else entirely. He took a deep breath, and opened the door to R-12. R-12 was a small room, with only a pair of chairs on opposite ends of the room, facing each other, and some humble wooden furniture, only there to hold up pens, random pieces of paper, and lamps that cast a weak, yellow light across the entire room. Sitting on the leftmost chair was an impossibly handsome silver-haired man, who smiled at Klaus as he entered. "Shut the door, and sit down." he said. "Y-yes." Klaus said, closing the door behind him, and sitting on the edge of his soft leather chair. "Please, relax, sit back," the man said, smiling reassuringly. "You're not in any kind of trouble." Klaus relaxed, laid back, but still twitched slightly. "W-why am I here, then?" "I observed your incident with that rodent." he said. "I'm in charge of several security cameras throughout this place, designed by Doctor Gero to monitor the outsider for invaders, and whatnot. I told Doctor Gero that you may be troubled, and he decided to set you up for a psychological exam. It's as simple as that, really." The silver-haired man spoke in a soft, almost hypnotic tone, that made him want to fall asleep. "Now, I want you to be comfortable," he said. "Think of me as a friend, and not a doctor." He flashed another flawless smile at Klaus, who couldn't help but blush. "Right," Klaus said, nodding. "Now," the man said. "What exactly motivated you to do this? How were you feeling at the time?" "Well," Klaus said, trying to sound more articulate, in a subconscious attempt to impress the silver-haired man. "I, well, uh...I suppose I-." He gulped. "Please, take your time," the therapist said, crossing his legs. "Alright. Well, I"m under the command of a General," Klaus tried as hard as he could to avoid saying Orange's name directly. Somehow, he felt as though Orange would find out if he did. "And for a while, he seemed to single me out." "Ah, so you felt directly abused by him? Like you had your power and agency taken away from you?" his therapist said, writing something down on his clipboard. Klaus nodded. "And killing this creature was a way of asserting your dominance, which you felt as though you had lost by this overly controlling General?" Klaus nodded again. "Ah, well, would you mind if I asked you about your childhood?" Klaus nodded, hesitantly. "Would you consider your parents to be overly critical? Did they often punish you for small things?" "Yes," Klaus said, eyes widening. "My mother once caught me picking my nose. I got the belt for that." The therapist took another note. "I believe that's all I need for now, Mr. Meyer." His therapist stood up, and extended his hand to Klaus, who took it, and shook it. "Thank you," Klaus said, getting up to exit. "You're quite a handsome young man, you know," his therapist said. Klaus froze. "Yes, uh, you too." He walked back to his own quarters, tossed the note in the trash, and laid back. In his lab, Dr. Gero watched the footage of Klaus's therapy session on a monitor. "Well, I suppose that counts as a successful Turing test." he said with a craggy, ancient grin.
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