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3DSP Character Story Leonardo Awgulewitsch

James had been a curious boy, a quality that had defined him throughout his life. Growing up, his mother became frustrated with the fact that he was always rather difficult to find, always exploring some corner of the mansion that didn’t particularly intrigue either of his parents. This curiosity was useful to James throughout his childhood, as his parents were generally too busy to care what he was up to, and this gave him a brimming sea of potential to explore. Unfortunately for James, exploring a plot of land that was mainly used to develop a new method of quite cruelly eliminating people was not without its dangers. He would often come across forgotten lab equipment and even an odd syringe or two partially filled with a peculiar fluid of a sickly yellow color. When James was around ten years old, finally at an age that offered him some physical advancements allowing him a wider range of exploration, he came across another boy, a year or so younger, that was not quite as keen on reckless investigation as James was. However, this boy, referred to by James as Scurry (due to his yellow eyes that resembled a hue of curry, and his tendency to be easily frightened), was desperate for attention and approval by the oldest person he knew under the age of twenty. Eventually, this led to the injection of a very fresh syringe of the yellow fluid into Scurry’s arm. The boys had been out for some time, and their minds were beginning to cloud with the decision to end the adventure with a rather bland conclusion, when James saw the syringe discarded in a bush outside the Infirmary. He had always been curious to see what the liquid did, although he was smart enough not to test it on himself. However, now there was finally an opportunity to put his recently acquired friend to use. This happened at a very unfortunate time of day. James and Scurry were just about to head back to their respective homes when they found the syringe. James got excited, eager to test the discovery, but hesitant to try it on himself. He turned to his friend and the ignorant ten-year-old decided it was a worth a shot, especially since it might improve their friendship, which was closer to a collaboration at this point. The bulging vein in Scurry’s forearm greedily accepted the questionable liquid, which did not have any visible effect at first. However, a few minutes after the fact, James’ reluctant associate began to violently spasm and foam at the mouth. James grew very anxious, as this was not an event common for a ten year old to experience. He attempted to talk to his companion and grab his arm to guide him somewhere safe, but the ferocity that gripped Scurry was too much for his underdeveloped arms to manage. It was in this moment that James’ outlook on life changed dramatically. He was watching his friend die before his very eyes, and there was nothing he could do. James stood there for a moment, staring in horror at the boy who was now clawing at his own face, drawing blood. He blinked. Twice. The second time, his brain trained from years of prohibited exploration decided it would be a prime time to start working again, and he dove on top of Scurry, who was on the ground at this point. This was certainly not the brightest idea that James had ever had, as it had little effect other than producing quite a number of long scratches on his skin. He backed off and decided that his only choice was to go into the infirmary for help, perhaps there was a doctor of some sort. This was that odd point of the day in which the sun is close to the end of its evening rounds, though it hesitates for a moment to look upon Mother Earth, leaving it in a sort of twilight zone before finally plunging the world into darkness. This was about the time James ought to be heading home for the day, ready to tuck into one of the chef’s spectacular meals. Tender roast beef with golden potatoes, or maybe some duck with a dark, rich gravy. It did not help James to dwell on things that could be happening when the reality was so much more demanding. James ran towards the left wing of the infirmary, where he had noticed that the scientists left one of the doors slightly ajar for easy access. Hoping for the sake of his friend that he would find something useful, he stepped across the raised threshold that separated the rank, dark infirmary from the rest of the world. Not entirely sure what he was looking for, James carefully placed each foot in front of the other in a cautious manner so as not to produce any noise, looking around as he went.

He passed through the left wing without seeing much of interest. Hell, he didn’t see much of anything, as the lighting was dismal. The only source of light was a distasteful row of dirty, flickering light fixtures in the main hallway that flooded into the adjoining rooms, and the majority of those were not working anyway. He picked up his pace, as the smell was so awful as to cause his throat to begin constricting. He was also very aware of a pressing chill in the air, raising the hair on his skin, and causing him yet more distress. Shrugging it off, and setting his mind into that steely, determined state that all children seem to be capable of, he continued treading through the hall. After James had passed by maybe eight or nine doorways, and another dark hallway that stretched on either side of him, he came across a room that was lit from the inside. Hopeful, and also extremely curious, he paused and peered inside, twisting his neck around the frame of the door. What he saw was horrifying, and not just to his young eyes. There was what remained of a man there, restrained to a metal bench. Most obvious was the fact that bits of him were missing, carved out of his flesh, the work of a carving knife that lay next to his thigh, patiently awaiting its next task. The man’s cuticles on his hands had been peeled back to the wrist, revealing the stained bones and tender, sensitive flesh underneath. James could see the veins pulsing, carrying blood throughout the man’s body. He also could not help but notice that the man’s scalp was not attached to his head. It had been cut around to expose the gray brain matter inside, to which a number of wires were attached, and flopped down into a pile beside his head. There was a mirror above the man, showing him his own disfigured body, and his eyelids were peeled back, held in place by metal clamps. His eyes were bright red from the irritation and dryness. However, they were the only part of the man’s face that appeared intact. His lips had been cut off and sewn shut, flush with the rest of his face. His nostrils had been cut open to allow increased airflow, but this also tickled the exposed and sensitive skin of the nose anytime he took a gasping breath. James felt bile rise in his throat, suffocating him. He looked away, but his eyes passed over the man’s legs on the way. Again, the cuticles on the toes had been peeled back, but this time up to the man’s knee and stapled there. His toenails had all been shattered, but crushed into place, digging into the very flesh they had been protecting. This was too much for James, and he doubled over and began to vomit violently. As his fit was ending, he heard a familiar voice emanating from the corner of the room. There was a silhouette of a man there, whom he had not noticed before.

“My boy. What brings you here? You ought to be back at home, helping your mother with your little baby sister.” “Wh- what? Father? What is this, why are you here? Why is this man h- here, did you, did you do this to him? P- please father, Scur’s outside and I gave him some of the yellow stuff and he’s s- s- spasming and I don’t know what to do.” “Calm down James,” his father said, chuckling. “All you need to do is go outside and fetch your friend for me, I’ll fix him //right// up. Good as new. It won’t take but a minute. That yellow stuff is nasty nasty, but simple to reverse if you know the technique, which I //most// certainly do. After all, I did invent it!” The man giggled, amused by his own genius. “Are- are you sure? Scur’s gonna be fine? But what’s with that man, what have you done?” “Father is … working on a //bit// of an experiment my boy. Well, doing my best. Recently, ah, subjects have been hard to come by.” His eyes ran over his son, with a light in them that had not been there before. “I really shouldn’t be telling you this, it’s all very hush-hush. It’s for the government you see,” explained James’ father, who now stepped out into the light. His hair was dirty and wild, his eyes were bloodshot, and he began to wave his arms around emphatically. “I’m a special scientist, son. //Hand-picked// by the president himself. //Hand-picked//,” he said, chuckling once more to himself, and then gesturing to the man on the table. “But that is of no matter to you my boy, my young, tender son. Just go out and get your friend and I will fix him right up. Yes indeed, right up … //to the bone//!” This time, he began to laugh hysterically, his spittle flying towards the man on the bench, landing on the exposed brain and causing the wretch to moan in pain. “Just go and get him now … yes, that’s it.” James was rather worried, but as always he did as his father told him. He turned and stumbled away, concerned by his father’s behavior. He would have to tell mother when he got back. Yes, when he got back, the young child told himself. The last thing that James Raven heard was the rush of air behind him. He assumed it to be simply a slip of floating paper brushing past him, though it was something much more malicious, a carving knife in fact. It slipped easily through the boy’s ribs, breaking the tender skin that covered them.