A/N: Hi guys! I want to announce that I'm planning to upgrade my writing setup as much as I can in order to try and improve my writing work flow, volume, and stability of chapter updates. Anyways, if anyone wants to pitch in a little something to help, you can donate with any subscription on my Pat*reon page at (pat*reon.com/Kendrix) [remove the * ]. Thanks in advance!
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Clink-clang-hiss-fssht.
These were the various sounds made by the powerful hydraulic locks in the room's door as it was being unlocked. The door opened on its own automatically, and Dexter walked out of his room, not even bothering to change out of his gym-style training-slash-sparring clothes, which he was still wearing.
Dexter stepped out of his room and stepped into the brightly lit hallway that separated the two opposite-facing rows of rooms that housed the two Archangels of Skynet.
He glanced at the number—2—painted above the door of the room, which was located directly opposite his own room, which had the number—1. Dexter already understood the meaning of numbers and what they signified from the classified information contained in the data files that Skynet had given to him a few years back.
Each number referred to the model number of the Skynet's Archangel that was residing in that particular room. Even though he had never been allowed to meet, communicate with, or even see any of his fellow Archangels before, he knew that there should be at least one other Archangel residing in the opposite room—Room 2—that is the one with the currently closed door, as it was currently the only other room with a number painted on it.
"Huh?" Dexter suddenly let out a sound of surprise and frowned.
He turned to look towards the main hallway where his room's corridor opened into. He was startled because he had begun to hear the sound, which was first faint and then became increasingly clearer with time, of rapidly approaching footsteps. 'Humans, not Terminators, huh?' Judging from the number of footsteps he was hearing, there should be a small crowd of people hurrying along the main hallway and running towards his location. He judged there to be about twenty or so people in the group.
Realizing this, the corners of Dexter's lips curled up. 'Mm, looks like something fun is arriving. Let's check it out,' he thought as a strange-looking smile appeared on his face.
"Oh, nice! First, I have only just obtained my freedom a little while ago, and now I even get to meet some new people. I guess today is my lucky day." Dexter muttered happily. He had a smile on his face that made him seem playful, carefree, and harmless, but oddly, there also seemed to be a hint of something sinister to his smile.
Dexter stepped into the main hallway just in time to see the first of the approaching humans—a sweaty, scruffy-bearded male survivor in his mid-thirties—try to scurry past him, obviously in a hurry, with the rest following close behind the man, all in dirty, tattered clothes like the first man.
Dexter immediately recognized the group for what they were: vagabond survivors, riffraffs of the new world.
"Hey! Hello, wait up!" Dexter called out loud to the leading man while at the same time stepping straight into the middle of the main hallway and subtly blocking the way forward for the man and the rest of the group.
"Ssh, quiet!" the man hissed angrily at Dexter, also gesturing at the same time for him to lower his voice. "We will all be killed if the machines hear or notice us!"
"Oh, right! Sorry, I didn't know." Dexter acted scared, immediately covering his mouth with his hands and whispering back an apology.
"Are you all survivors? I'm a survivor too." Dexter kept throwing a rapid fire of questions at the man, who was starting to look very annoyed because Dexter seemed to always inadvertently step in front of the man and block his path whenever the man tried to circle around him and continue on his way.
At this time, the rest of the group had gathered around Dexter and the man he was questioning, and they were constantly glancing around furtively even as they were asking in whispers and wondering aloud why they had been stopped in their flight.
The man finally seemed to have had enough of Dexter delaying his escape. "Move, you idiot!" he cried out in an angry whisper. "If you must know, we are Skynet's prisoners, and we are trying to escape from this place. Even though you are annoying, you are also a fellow human, so you can come with us if you want."
'Ha! Finally telling me what I want to know, little man? I thought I would have to pester and annoy you some more.' Dexter thought with some amusement. 'Okay, let's play with them a little more before the main fun begins.'
"Oh, so you people are trying to escape from this facility?" Dexter asked.
"Yeah. This seems like a good opportunity to escape. We haven't even run into a single HK on our way. Something seems to have drawn their attention," the man answered as he and the rest of the survivors kept glancing at the path behind Dexter, obviously anxious to continue on his way.
"Mm, I think I can help you with that. Keep on your current path, and you can follow this main hallway until you reach the main entrance of this facility. Your chance of running into the Resistance soldiers on this path should also be very high." Dexter advised the survivors and former prisoners.
After Dexter told the former prisoner escapees to continue on their current path and that it was the correct path, the survivors discussed it among themselves in low mutterings before they all agreed to follow Dexter's advice.
"See? I was right, wasn't I? I told you that you should follow me and that this is the right way," said the man with pride.
Relieved smiles began to spread among the survivors as they muttered and conversed among themselves.
"Thanks, man," the man said with a grateful smile, seeming to now have a better impression of Dexter. "This information will really help us a lot in our escape. You really should come with us so that we can help one another to escape from this horrible place."
Suddenly, a graying middle-aged man at the back, who seemed like a more experienced older man, spoke up and asked Dexter a question, breaking the atmosphere of levity. "How do you know the way so well?"
The man had a bad knee, most likely from some injury in the past, so he had always been positioned at the back of the group, but he seemed like one of the more experienced—or he might have just been the most cynical and paranoid—members of this group of survivors.
"Yeah, man, that's right. I forgot to ask that question myself," the first man said, nodding thoughtfully.
"Hehe, that's a very good question," Dexter said with a chuckle. "And the answer to your question is…I know the way around this facility because I live here."
"What?" cried the man.
"Surprised? Like I said, I live here. This is my home," said Dexter, gesturing around. His tone had changed, and his smile had taken on an obviously very sinister look.
"You see," Dexter continued, "I lied before. I'm not actually the same as you guys. I am not one of the humans imprisoned in this facility. The truth is… I work for Skynet, and I have actually been personally responsible for capturing a few of you guys in the first place, so I don't think I'm allowed to let you guys escape from here and go free."
A few among the survivors let out shocked gasps as all of them scurried back and away from Dexter, terror clearly writ on their faces. The rest of the survivors, who had frozen in shock, still shrank into themselves, their bodies tilting backward, trying to move away from Dexter.
"Ah, there it is; the look and smell of fear. The sublime pleasure of witnessing someone's feelings of hope suddenly turn into despair." Dexter moaned out his words, eyes closed and wearing a wide, maniacal grin as he sniffed the air, savoring the atmosphere of fear and tension wafting off from the survivors.
When he opened his eyes and saw that all of the survivors had moved a good distance away from him, and they were all now staring at him in terror. A few of them were even trying to sneak around him in order to then run away from him.
"Oops! My bad," Dexter exclaimed, mocking the survivors by covering his mouth, acting like he had not meant to reveal his real identity and that he was surprised by their frightened actions. "I guess I shouldn't have revealed my secret identity to you people. Ah, you guys are really too unlucky. Now you know who I am and also know my true identity; I can't really let you guys go free now, can I?"
Dexter smirked as he savored and took great pleasure in enjoying the feeling of toying and playing with the feelings and emotions of this group of survivors and former prisoners—his victims, his prey—before he moved in for the kill.
'Ah,' he thought, almost letting out a moan, 'it's been so long.'
"Why are you doing this?" the man cried out, cold sweat breaking out on his face.
"You see, all of you are prisoners that are trying to escape from this facility, and you also plan to join up with the Resistance army...ah ah ah… don't lie. You have also seen my face, so you now know what I look like. More importantly, to be honest, I'm feeling very cranky right now, and I really need to let off some steam and obtain some stress relief. So, unfortunately for you guys, none of you will be able to leave this place alive. Blame your bad luck for why you had to cross paths with me today." Dexter monologued. The way he was looking at the survivors had changed, with his eyes taking on a hungry, murderous, predatory look.
The man took a step back. He looked very scared, probably shocked by how this harmless-looking stranger seemed to have suddenly transformed and now looked like a homicidal maniac.
"What?! Why…why are you doing this? Why do you want to kill us? Aren't you a fellow human like us?" One of the women among the former prisoners managed to stutter out.
"Sorry, you guys made a very big mistake when you ran into me. And I'm definitely not a filthy, low human like the rest of you guys. I'm something more, something better." Dexter said as his hands began to elongate and were rapidly transforming into long, sharp black metal blades.
Taking a single step with a burst of superhuman speed, Dexter appeared before the man and stabbed both blades into the man's chest, piercing through his heart before erupting out of his back in a shower of blood and viscera. Life quickly left the man's eyes as an expression of shock and horror was plastered on his face.
'Ah,' Dexter thought, grinning with immense pleasure, 'this is not yet enough. Let's make this little more cinematic.'
Dexter held up the slumping body with his hands as they instantly transformed into a pair of large clawed hands inside the man's chest. Gripping both sides of the wound, he ripped the corpse apart, tearing the man's body in half amidst an outpouring of gore.
"Ahhhhh!"
Immediately, screams filled the hallway as the survivors scattered and began to flee away from Dexter in all directions, with some even running back in the direction where they came from.
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