Cain was erratic at the best of times, but the Apostle had been shackled with him long enough to recognize when he was in one of his moods. Occasionally he would order her to do something completely vindictive, or nonsensical for no other reason than to watch what happened as a result. This world was a perfect example.
“Give them what they want,” he’d told her, “and control them with it. Let them see what a world full of fools that do everything alike is really like. Then crush them with their own stupidity.”
Feeling little over the matter, one way or another, she’d carried out the bidding of her god. Using the conformist movement already spreading through the populace, she’d seized the government purely for Cain’s amusement. Despite its many technological advances, this world did not have the ability to travel through time, so it was useless to her vendetta. Coldly patient, she could wait for Cain to have his fun before continuing her search on other worlds.
Tapping a gloved fingertip against her mask thoughtfully, the Apostle was never quite sure if Cain could clearly read her thoughts or not. Sometimes he knew exactly what she was thinking, and others he was completely oblivious. Perhaps distance from the Eye of Perdition affected his hold on her. If he could only read her thoughts when she was close to the Eye, it would explain a lot.
Having been to a thousand different worlds in her quest to undo the sins she’d been forced to commit, the Apostle had encountered many things. What lay bolted to the metal examination table, however, was something she had not seen since murdering Subject 27.
Mostly unconscious, the prisoner’s half-open, glazed eyes moved slowly around
the room, not really seeing it. With raven black hair to his shoulders, and oddly purple eyes, he seemed to almost radiate mischief, even in his semi-conscious state. If he were just an ordinary non-conformist refusing to cut his hair or dress like everyone else, there would be no problem. However, he was not. He was a Subject like she had been before becoming the Apostle of Cain.
If she’d never encountered others like herself on dozens of different worlds, then she had to believe that they did no occur in nature. That could only logically mean that all Subjects were created, as she had been, in the laboratories of the World Closest to Perdition.
Least troubling of her explanations for this was that he was just an escaped
Subject who had somehow run from the Council. Though that could also be the most troubling, she couldn’t quite decide. Least because it meant he was no threat to her.
Most because it meant that escape had been possible, and she’d killed two dozen of her fellow Subjects in combat for nothing.
Perhaps he was a test, sent by the Council to make sure her skills were still sharp, and let her know that they could always find her, wherever she was. Or he could be a second Apostle chosen from another batch of Subjects she’d known nothing about. This would be especially troublesome, as he could greatly hinder her revenge. Perhaps the Council was displeased with her performance, and sent him to kill and replace her. He was making a rather pathetic show of it thus far if that were the case.
Lifting her fist, the Apostle examined the purple crystal dangling from it by a leather cord. It was the same as her own, and he’d been wearing it around his neck. Hers was the only one she’d ever seen, so logically, it had also come from the World Closest to Perdition.
Breathing slowly and evenly, the prisoner seemed content to spend the rest of his life in semi-consciousness, so the Apostle took the time to examine him. He was scrawny compared to male Subjects she’d known. Though well defined, his muscles did not bulge like those of other males. With his body stripped naked, she could see that he was lean, and soft, bearing no scars of battle, nor calluses of hard work and training.
Examining him, the Apostle had never understood the purpose of two genders.
Males looked so odd, lacking the aesthetically pleasing and sleek figures of the females.
Though this particular specimen did look slightly more appealing, lacking the hulking musculature of other male Subjects. And they had a very easy to hit weak spot dangling between their legs where any idiot could reach it. For the life of her, she could see no anatomical purpose for it at all, a strange addition to a body that she already saw as inferior.
Females were sensitive to blows in that area as well, but males were a whole
different story. A good kick could completely incapacitate most men, and those it didn’t flew into a blind rage over the pain. It was very useful in battle.
She had always wondered why the Council continued to produce males with their
blocky, bulging bodies, and that pointless thing between their legs, when the females were obviously a more refined and improved creation. Their greater speed and agility was more than a match for the raw strength that the males possessed, and they were better able to control their aggression.
Males and females amongst humans seemed to have very defined and different
roles in society, though the Apostle could not see why, or any point to it. It was all very strange to her, seeing people acting with affection rather than wariness towards one another. The female humans acted far weaker than they were to attract the attention of the males for some sort of coupling that the Apostle did not quite understand or care much about. Those that coupled for long enough bore offspring, but then, so did women who were not coupled at all. She had yet to see males bearing offspring, but that didn’t mean it didn’t happen. None of it made any sense to an outside observer like her.
Infants were a strange concept to the Apostle. Having become aware of herself in what humans would call pre-adolescence, the Apostle had never seen an infant or a toddler until going out amongst humanity. She’d been mildly uneasy about bearing an offspring of her own, thinking it might be contagious like some sort of disease, but there seemed to be some outside factor that affected which women bore offspring, and which did not, that she had yet to discover.
Eyeing the naked Subject on the table for a moment, the Apostle hoped that he
was as fiercely protective of his right to wear clothing as she was. It would make him vulnerable, and give her the advantage. The thought of anyone looking upon her bare flesh made her want to kill something, so hopefully it will cause him similar distress.
Pacing with impatience, the Apostle had developed the habit sometime after
leaving the World Closest to Perdition. Her temper had always been short, but she knew how to enforce patience upon herself. Centuries of waiting for her revenge had taught her to be patient, but small wastes of her time, like waiting for someone to wake up, still got to her.
Would the prisoner never wake up! Perhaps the stunguns had been a mistake.
With metal bones, her kind had a greater susceptibility to electric shocks. It was one of the few things that could kill a Subject outright. If she’d known what he was, she would have ordered the use of rubber bullets instead. In fact, it was a miracle he was still alive at all. If he was the Council’s pet, she might be in trouble for nearly killing him.
“Stop pacing, Kari,” the Subject on the table muttered. “You’re gonna wear a
tread in the floor.”
Stopping, the Apostle turned toward the prisoner, seeing that his eyes were fully open at last. He’d begun shivering in the deep cold.
“Sure is nippy,” the Subject muttered groggily. “And I got a breeze blowing right through my—“
“What is your number, Subject,” the Apostle demanded, stepping to his side and glaring down at him.
Blinking in confusion, the Subject tried to focus his eyes. “What are you—“