There I sat, chained down, in my chair, overlooking the faces of my executioners. Their faces contorted by my horrific deeds. They viewed me as evil, that’s their choice, but what I did was heroic and I would do it again if the chance arose. But it won’t. I will not get to do it again because these people are taking “An eye for an eye” a bit too seriously in my opinion. They’re going to kill me. I sit in this death-chair awaiting my obvious onslaught, it’s quite tedious. The people in white coats shuffle around me, keeping their distance and shooting me looks of disgust occasionally, I don’t care, I did what I had to, I did what I wanted to. I’ve decided that I don’t belong on this planet, this rock. My mind is too complex for these lesser mortals to fathom so I’ll gladly take my place next to the fiery throne that Satan sits upon down in the depths of hell. Perhaps there are people there who understand me.
All except from one of the white coated lab-rats leave, most of them stand in view behind a pane of glass. The single man puts a contraption on my head, a sort of helmet with colourful beads and metal prongs on the inside, they poke my temples, it’s irritating. The man attaches metal clamps to my arms and legs and stares into my soulless eyes, he gives a sympathetic look and mouths “I’m sorry”. Then he leaves. He’s a weakling.
They give me a few moments to gather my thoughts and memories. I’ve nothing to gather. There are no people that love me, I have no family, and I still regret nothing. I only have one wish. I wish that I was devoid of instinct, because I am about to be executed and my entire body is repelling against it. It wants me to stop letting this happen. But as I’ve already established, I let nothing get in my way, not even my own flesh. I get comfortable, close my eyes and give a mocking thumbs up to the men behind the glass as white hot electricity surges through my veins, through my heart and through my brain, allowing me entry to heaven within hell.
>G
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