I Am Your God

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This creature was not one of the gods. It was unnatural, disfigured, ungainly. Sylvanan felt a twinge of sympathy as he gazed down upon the creature his predecessors had cooked up. By the time the Arkanian gained control of the labs, this monstrosity was already halfway done. It was already alive, breathing like any other sentient, and Sylvanan could not bring himself to end its life.

Instead, he'd retrofitted the creature. Stabilized the genome, taken what he could from it midichlorian rich body, and kept it alive. It would be a weapon, but Sylvanan hoped he could grant it some form of humanity. Its purpose would be to kill, but it would be for the right reasons, and it would choose to do so if it wished. Scientist or not, Sylvanan still had a conscience that believed in self choice. He would not create a slave.

The cloning vat slowly began to drain of the incubation liquid. The creature's soft tissue would quickly adapt to open air as oxygen was pumped into its small chamber. The bindings on its arms and legs that held it in place would loosen to allow it some form of movement, though the inhibitor chip embedded deep within its body would keep it from killing anyone.

Sylvanan awaited the beast's awakening eagerly. He motioned all others save for the security droids out of the lab. His arms folded behind his back, and he took a decisive step back once the chamber hissed open.

"Welcome to the world my friend. How was your sleep?"

 

[Darth Eversor]

And so, life began. This long, seemingly strange journey of breathing alone for the first time without machines. To feel air and not be suspended within a tube full of stagnant liquid. To be alive was... interesting. Project 1076's gaze was both full and blurry with the images of figures standing before him as he crouched in his chamber. The entity blinked slowly and breathed in sharply, he could feel the drugs beginning to course through his veins with a slight aching throb that lingered but for a moment.

Standing to his feet, 1076 took a couple of steps forward out of his chamber. He looked down at himself and then to the others in an eerie silence that permeated throughout the lab's atmosphere. Almost like a rising tension that was about to reach its climax. The creation's hearing was full of ringing at first, but a voice broke through and helped him tune into reality.

"Welcome to the world my friend. How was your sleep?"

1076 Tried to speak, but only a raspy exhale escaped his lips. There wasn't any real emotion on the creation's face, rather, there wasn't much to his face at all aside from a blank, soulless stare and a bald head. Snapping his gaze around the room, 1076 looked back to his chamber and walked next to it, peering at the side where a label read "Detritus".

The creation pointed to said label as if trying to confirm that this was indeed his name, or so he felt.

[member="Sylvanan Tal'verda"]

 

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Sylvanan would likely never have children. He had never been intimate with a woman - the process would likely kill him. His life was his work, a cold calculative existence with little room for love.

Yet in this great monstrous creature, he felt innocence. Despite its purpose, this thing - this man was not of ill intent. He would only do whatever his creator asked of him, and in that, Sylvanan felt his heart break a little. His father had told him to hold compassion for all things. To love openly and feel things with all of his being. That sentiment had carried on to the Arkanian. He would treat this creation well - this creature that had come from him, was born from him.

"That was the project name. If you want another name, you can have it. I know it might sound a bit degrading." He cooed, reaching into his back pocket. "Speaking will be difficult for some time. Your vocal cords have never been strained. It will be a bit of time before they develop fully, but that's alright."

From the sound of his voice, one could tell Sylvanan was smiling. He offered a small bar from his pocket. The plastic seal had been torn, and the corner of chocolate gleamed in the pale lab light. "This my friend, is chocolate. It's sweet, and too much is bad for you. Try not to indulge on it in the future."



[member="Detritus"]

 

[Darth Eversor]

1076 Simply stared at the man before him offering some sort of sentimental moment along with what he called chocolate. If there was one thing this man hasn't fully come to realize yet it was that the creation couldn't feel. It simply couldn't. It did however understand the reasoning and logic behind his motive, rationalizing it as some kind of kind gesture that might be common among normal folk. For now all 1076 could do was go along with everything the man was doing. It needed a guide - a parent, in this case.

The entity moved forward slowly but surely to claim the offering, its blackened eyes showing a deep emotionless void as they shifted from side to side scanning the room more closely. Extending his right hand, 1076 accepted the token of kindness and brought it close to his face for inspection. The scent was sweet, inviting. Even for a being with no emotions, this was a very humbling and comforting moment. 1076 Took a small piece of the treat and chewed it with what could only be defined as satisfaction.

That is when the creation's true nature began to surface. Its presence began to become increasingly sinister, like it was reaching out to discover the world just as 1076 was.

[member="Sylvanan Tal'verda"]

 

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Sylvanan was no optimistic ditzy woman. He knew he could not change @Detritus. Deep down, the creature would feel, all things did, but he was designed to have them so suppressed that they would never show, never be felt. That was fine, so long as the creation understood that it was not a tool. It was the first thing Sylvanan had ever created. He cared for it like he would any other valued sentient. He would not deny it its purpose - it was a killer. He would simply point it in the right direction.

"I am Sylvanan. I run Crynic. I created you." He explained, reaching up to clamp an iron grip on the warrior's shoulder. "I understand you are going to have a hard time comprehending morality - if you don't wish to, that is fine."

The arm fell. "But if you wish, I will be clear. Your purpose is to protect my interests, and destroy those who stand against them. I am one of the good men, we will kill the evil ones. You are a crusader for change - a hero." He continued. "You will not harm children, and you will do your best to avoid civilian casualties - though I know they can be unavoidable. Your targets will deserve no mercy, Detritus."

With that, he lowered his head. In a rare gesture, he popped off his helmet. He could only afford to for a few minutes. Even in a sterile environment such as this, the bacteria could kill him. Bright blue eyes stared up at his companion. Pale white lips pulled back in a warm, pleased smile.

"You will answer to me and those I indicate." Pride was clear in his voice. "You are the perfect soldier. The perfect warrior. That is your purpose. If you ever wish to become something else, I will help you. You need only ask it of me, but until that point, I will give you your purpose." He gave a moment's pause.

Detritus was designed for slaughter, but Sylvanan wanted his opinion. He wanted his creation to know that he seed what happened to it. That he would take care of the creature if care was needed.

"This is alright with you?"

 

[Darth Eversor]

To hold close the virtues and trust of men was something Detritus would question for a long, long time. If he were made to kill, then what use would it be to adhere to anyone's law but his own? If his design was that of death itself, then the livelihood of others was surely at stake. The creation processed this information and thought it over a couple of times before finalizing one conclusion - to save anything it all, there must be no exceptions or mercy.

Too many mistakes had been made throughout time and in diplomatic moments when violence could have been the end-all solution. Many betrayals and shortcomings could have been avoided if the willpower of men was not clouded by emotion.

Emotion. That was it.

This is why Detritus was designed, to be the one that could make such bold decisions without having a second thought afterward. What [member="Sylvanan Tal'verda"] was saying made perfect sense when applied to what Detritus believed to be a more valid way of thinking, even if it wasn't. But what if the man's interests were no longer his own? What if his very creation decided to uproot itself and make its own mark on the galaxy without the supervision of a guardian? If there was one reality the scientist should face, it was one of hardship. In his success, he had created a sentient being that knew not the consequence of society or its rules.

It would only prove detrimental to the development of a relationship the scientist hoped to forge.

Detritus simply nodded along with what Sylvanan had to say - what he needed to hear. The creation hadn't truly lived yet and thus had no real recognition of what things were or what they meant, but this is why it was designed to be superior intellectually and not only from a physical standpoint. The word hero had a peculiar ring to it, though. All of these things that were falling on the fresh ears of Detritus absorbed quite quickly into his blank canvas of a morality.

The creation gave a certain look into the eyes of his creator, staring through him almost as if he fully grasped both the words and the meaning they held in such a short amount of time. With a subtle nod, Detritus extended his right hand and set it upon the shoulder of the man in front of him. Returning a gesture he now understood as one of acceptance and bonding, but yet did not feel the connection of emotion.

 

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Sylvanan was infinitely pleased. His lips pulled back into a wide grin as Detritus set a massive hand on his shoulder. The creature could learn adequately and quickly.

"Smart lad." He mused, tapping the warrior's forearm with his hand. He shifted away from the creature, and marched over to a nearby console. His finger began to dance along the console's control pad, a myriad of lights flashing in various shades along the console dash.

"If you look to your left you'll find a door. It will lead you to a small room. This room will have a number of weapons, ranging from blaster pistols to lightsaber staffs. Pick two." He began. "Then proceed through the next door, and ready for battle. Your combat capabilities need to be tested."


The area just beyond the glass pane in front of the Arkanian was cast in a bright pale light. Below, one cold make out a large circular arena. Shattered durasteel and other junk provided the terrain.

"Make me proud."

[member="Detritus"]

 

[Darth Eversor]

Detritus' eyes followed the scientist as he walked away. In the mind of the creature, it had already labeled him as a non-valuable target. Registering him under a category that more or less made him a non-target. If he felt threatened, then this would be a different story. No need to bite that hand that feeds both literally and philosophically. Trying to teach the creation morals at this point was a good idea, but who could say they would make a lasting impression?

Facing left just as the man had spoken, Detritus already began making his way towards the aforementioned chamber of armaments. Once inside the monstrosity scanned the walls and various racks containing everything the scientist mentioned and more. A couple of the weapons that stood out were what appeared to be a blaster pistol and a pair of lightsabers. He walked up to them and attempted to reach out until something else caught his eye...

An elongated staff was centered among everything else - twisted and darkened, it called out and resonated with the power that lay within Detritus. A pulsating sensation spread throughout the creation's body as he lightly touched upon the chilled metallic exterior of the hilt, grabbing it. The creation then turned back and picked up a handgun of sorts. Compact yet useful, the weighted feel suggested a slug-thrower. It would do nicely for now.

Assured that the combination of weapons was logical and adequate, Detritus proceeded through to the next chamber. It was dimly lit and a tad more spacious than the previous room. The creation looked around, holding his lightsaber staff close with a heightened sense of caution. He knew that this was a situation for live skill.

[member="Sylvanan Tal'verda"]

 

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Now was the time for testing. This would decide whether Detritus recorded his intended assignments. Of the creature failed, then Sylvanan would find a lesser suitable purpose. He was not the kind to throw away sentient life, even if it did not meet the desired parameters.

The Arkanian leaned over the control console, and drew in a sharp breath. A good combination of weaponry for a warrior of his size. Sylvanan approved.

"The green combat droids are hostages. Unarmed. Helpless. The red droids will attempt to kill, violate, and extort their green counterparts. Your objective is to save these victims." Show me a capacity for restraint. "If any victim is killed, you fail the test."

All around the chamber, droids appeared from the floor below. They were the basic security models, armed with powered down, but still entirely painful E-11 rifles. The red droids elbowed the greens, shoved them to the ground, secured firing positions, and began to abuse their counterparts. The green droids screamed and pleaded, their voices taken from living sentients: humans, Selkath, and various other species.

"Begin."

[member="Detritus"]

 

[Darth Eversor]

Within a few seconds Detritus was able to scan the targets and identify the best possible outcome. Now was the time to engage the creation's combat protocol. It grabbed the hilt of the lightsaber staff and activated it with a double snap-hiss, bursting into a sudden dash towards the first objective.

In one graceful leap, Detritus deactivated one end of the staff and brought the crimson blade down into the head of a hostile droid and sliced down through its core, landing just behind the now destroyed mechanical threat. Spinning the hilt in his right palm, he caught it and reactivated the other end of the staff. The other assailants took aim and opened a barrage of blaster bolts to halt the creation in its place.

Maneuvering swiftly, Detritus managed to parry a few of the bolts before closing the relatively short distance between him and the droid at his front; the one behind him continued to fire indefinitely, but only succeeded in hitting Detritus a single time in the center of his back. The creation snarled and pushed through the pain, slicing into the second droid by first disarming it and then decapitating its head clean off the shoulders. The metallic husk began to crumple to the floor next to its green counterpart as the creation made his next move.

Now facing down the last hostile, Detritus learned quickly to move faster against the stream of bolts. His lightsaber swatting away round after round just before he performed a feat that might surprise his creator. During the storm of gunfire, Detritus demonstrated a lightning fast quick-draw and shot the remaining droid directly in its dome, effectively dispatching the threat.

From what could be seen during the remainder of the trial was nothing short of excellence. By the end of it virtually none of the hostages were ever harmed or came close to dying.

Detritus stood in the center of the chamber after the fighting was thoroughly finished, deactivating his lightsaber staff and awaiting his next order.

[member="Sylvanan Tal'verda"]

 

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"Perfection." Sylvanan mumbled in awe.

Intelligent, and highly efficient in combat. The Arkanian's breath was practically taken away when he took note of the fact that no hostages were harmed. [member="Detritus"] had not touched a single one in his onslaught.

Pride swelled in Sylvanan's chest as he gazed down at the creation. This came from him, borne from him. Detritus would likely never know, but the Arkanian had instilled some of his own genetic structure in the warrior. This would help Detritus deal with disease, and perhaps one day, if he wanted, feel like a normal sentient, and identify with. A particular race.

A single elevator slid down to the combat floor. Sylvanan stepped outward, and clapped his hands together.

"I couldn't ask for anything more, Detritus."