Lightning and thunder tore through the skies, awakening the sleeping form of a boy in darkness. He awoke to a familiar sight. His house. He turned the light switch on but the lights merely flickered and died. Looking around he noticed the peculiarity of his home. The windows were a pitch black, blocking all attempts to see the outside world. Even on the darkest nights, one would be able to see signs of trees and buildings outside. Such was city life so why was there nothing but an infinite darkness? He next noted the situation he had awoken to. He had no recollection of how or why he had been sleeping on his living room floor. His parents weren’t especially fond of him sleeping outside of his room. The house itself was darker than usual actually, as if someone had entered the house and thrown gray paint everywhere. This was not his house. He ignored the fact at first, choosing to study the room more and note the smaller differences it held in comparison to his home.

He remained standing in one spot examining his house until a feeling of malice caused him to instinctively turned around and jump back. It was too late though. A small black figure had emerged from a shadow in the room and latched onto his leg. A voice, saying something that he couldn’t understand, began whispering in the back of his mind. The figure moved up his body like a slime and numbed everything on its way up. He grabbed at the slime, attempting to pry from his leg to no avail. That was was when the whispers became clear words.

It's been a while. How long did you think I'd stay asleep?

He pretended as if the voice wasn't there and focused on separating from whatever had latched onto him. It now covered his entire leg and was moving up his abdomen. A dream, he told himself. This was all a dream. There was no way that something like this could happen in real life. There were too many things off. His mind relaxed for a sweet second before a shock ran up his body and he fell to the floor. The slime continued moving up, driving murderous thoughts into his head. Flames erupted inside the house, as if responding to the chaos in his mind.

A dream, you say? Then this dream shock shouldn’t mean a thing to you. When I wake up I swear to you that I’ll make you suffer more than you’ve ever suffered before.

Images raced through his head, images of those he had spent his entire life connecting with facing agonizing deaths with him helplessly watching. The pain rushed from them to the boy’s body. His heart raced and he tried to move, to show sign that he was still there to no avail. All that came from him was an air piercing scream as his entire body felt as if it were being pulled apart.

Beautiful the boy thought to himself as he flung the alarm that had been conveniently placed by his ear across the room. Cold sweat ran down his face. The nightmares had started half a year before and increased in frequency. None had been as vivid as this one though. The stories from the voice weren’t there either but they say an image is worth a thousand words anyway. Wiping the sweat off his face, he went to the bathroom to examine his face. Black eyes stared back at him. His hair stood up. A feature he hated but had to deal with since it refused to go down. He moved his hands toward the sink faucet and turned, letting cold water rush down. Calm down and get ready.

It was still long before his parents, or any sane person, would wake up. That was a solid two hours to use up all the hot water, have a well made breakfast and contemplate his existence. The events of his nightmare repeated itself throughout his morning. Ignoring it was impossible. The images flashed every time his eyes closed. He spent the two hours thinking whether it would have been worse to stay in bed and risk another nightmare instead of actually enjoying the peace that usually came with the silence if the morning. The images of his parents being killed only helped the situation. He finally gave up on having a peaceful morning, throwing what remained of his breakfast away and leaving his home.

Sunrise was always beautiful. Even when he was struggling, the view if sunlight climbing up from beyond the horizon and giving the normally blue sky a deep orange color was enough to cheer him up slightly. He closed eyes, immediately regretting the action, and sighed. Thursday had just begun, it would get better.

School proved that no matter how bad a day started, it could always get worse. His teachers must have coordinated to screw him over so immensely. A quiz at the start of each class and a lecture that made him contemplate suicide began his first 3 periods. A run in with the “popular” kids effectively ruined his free period. If only they knew how little he cared about the cost of his outfit. At least the weather was nice outside he told himself as he dodged a paper ball in his pre-calculus class. The world had plans for that too.

It began around noon. The clear blue skies were quickly replaced with dark storm clouds. Soon the downpour began. Only a few minutes passed before the students could hear a booming voice echo throughout the school.

Attention students and faculty: Due to the storm all classes are being canceled. You are to get home as safely and quickly as possible. The school will be closing in an hour.

If I ever meet a forecaster I'm breaking their legs. the boy thought to himself as he got up from the only subject he enjoyed.

His father was on a trip ages away and his mom would need hours before she could reach. Before he could reach any of his “friends”, all seats in their cars had been long claimed. The storm showed no signs of slowing down, its winds getting stronger by the second. He walked back to his seat and stared into the stormy skies, postulating ways to get home without throwing himself into the storm outside. None came up. Half an hour passed and he sat in his own corner of the lunchroom as the school. It was as if he were invisible to the others in the open space and though he didn't mind too much, it was his life that was being ignored.

"I guess I'm running", he said, breaking the awkward silence that had surrounded him. No one was listening but that was irrelevant to him. He let out a near silent curse as a tree caught fire outside. It wasn't everyday that he put himself into a predicament as immense as this one. Swinging his bag over his shoulder and putting it on, he walked towards the entrance of the school before anyone could comment. Waiting any longer wouldn’t be good. He mixed himself into a group that was leaving. Once outside, he put on his hood and began running.

The universe had a score to settle with the boy. The downpour had gotten even stronger and the lightning that followed only helped his cause. He was almost home though, a few more blocks and he would be safe. If he had learned anything in the past, it'd be that running in rain was a very dumb idea. Experience was great but wasn't very helpful seeing as he could be dead in second he thought as he slid around a corner using a pole to stop himself from flying into the street.What sane person runs in this weather? His hopes soared as he saw a familiar store. The universe made sure to take said hope, tear it apart, burn the pieces, and hand him back the ashes. It was like the lightning was trying to hit him. It hit the ground again and again at random spots, charging the ground it made contact with."Great. I'm going to turn around and find a nice corner to huddle in for the night." he advised himself, turning around. He cursed at himself as he dropped his bag and leapt forward.

The electricity slowly began to numb his legs. He forced his body to react, jumping to the left seconds before lightning struck the ground behind him. He jumped ahead again, dodging another bolt. His body was reacting before his mind, desperate to reach safety. He ran through the charged field, ignoring the pain that crawled up his legs. His lungs burned as he ran through the now battered city street. His legs felt like they were about to fall off and he could hear a voice deep in his head telling to give into the pain but he continued on, intent on making it to safety. His body jerked to the left, as if on instinct, evading a strike but stepping into another. Pain coursed from the crown of his head to his toes and the darkness began to settle in. His body fell to floor, immobilized. His eyes looked around to see grass where the concrete belonged.

What's going on?
 

He looked ahead. Ten figures stood staring into the sunrise.

Where am I?

A bright flash went through the scene.
The same setting, but the sun had almost reached it's peak, the sunlight making the ten figures harder to make out. The sun moved up and the searing white light spread in every direction covering the scene.

Trapped in another organism's body again. You're falling behind Prime.

Can't be helped, I'll just kill it and move on.
 

"Don't even dream of it". He felt the words coming from his mouth but he knew that they weren't his. His mouth moved as if it were being controlled by strings, the words flowing out but in such a way that seemed forced. He tried to close his mouth but found he could barely move even his eyes.

The voice's irritation was evident as he responded.

C***y, aren't we? Humans should know their place.

The boy's body shook as lightning struck him again. What little control he had left over himself vanished. So this was what death felt like. His mind screamed, trying to stay awake but his body had already given up. The world seemed to be singing him to sleep, telling him to let go of the pain and move on. Finally, his eyes gave into their own weight and closed.

The two voices were still talking but they were nothing but faint whispers now. Another bolt came down on him. This time the voice from his nightmare reacted. It delved deep into his subconscious, looking for something, anything. The pain continued and though he couldn't move he wanted it to stop. He wanted the hurting to stop. Within the darkness of his closed eyes a red light appeared. He no longer felt the fear of death upon him, he felt power. His body rose, the scream of the invading voice echoing as the world seemed to tremble.

-----
The scientists looked in horror as the test subject walked out of the tube. The material was sturdy enough to withstand an atomic blast yet it shattered like glass with just a blink. #257 was the strongest subject currently held at the facility. He didn't do much most of the time, in fact, none of the test subjects did much. There was the occasional breakout but even then, it was never a powerful subject because they were always under a drug induced coma. Now 257 was out. How this subject of all the others could've woken up was a mystery. It would also be the death of them all.

The alarm was already ringing, a few more minutes and security would be on it's way to detain the subject. But they weren't going to make it in time. The smile on #257's face confirmed the thought. One of the younger scientist moved forward and attempted to speak. In an instant, his head had been moved from his body to the subject's hand. Blood sprayed out of the corpse, spilling onto the dead scientist's colleagues. Darkness formed from the demon's hand and crushed the head. His face not changing at all, the demon walked forward, pulling a blade from the darkness.

A few minutes later the detainment squad arrived to the bloody scene. The lights in the complex had be tampered with, leaving the entire building in complete darkness. Stepping into the room with flashlights they saw all of the scientists dead. Some hung upside down from the ceiling, blood seeping from their lifeless forms onto the ground where other headless scientists were laid down to make a circle. This pattern was repeated throughout the room using the bodies of the hundred scientists. In the center of it all was a statue of one of the scientists. He was petrified but from his eyes alone one could tell that he watched all his companions get murdered before him.

"We’re heading out. He couldn't have escaped the building yet. Find him, and don't hesitate to kill if he resists."

The captain had already left the room. The subject wasn't there. A detainment teams duty was to make sure the 317 subjects in the building remained in their cells and if they were to escape, to get them back into said cells. Troops ran throughout the floors, wearing mech suits and holding guns designed to injure the demon.

257 stood at the exit of the building. A wall stood between him and the outside world. Thirty troops stood between him and any other escape route. He sighed as the captain, wearing the noticeable red streak on his armor, appeared from the group.

“A child. Five feet, nine inches. Black hair, bright red eyes. Human appearance. Dark black wings. What are you doing outside your cell 257?”

He signaled for the troops’ attention. “Aim.”

Guns pointed at the demon.

“What am I doing, you ask? Simple,” his mouth didn't move as he spoke, his voice instead echoing through the heads of the soldiers, “I've been tested for longer than I can remember. I've always heard the scientists saying that they wished they could test my power. I'm doing exactly that. Testing my power.” The already dimmed building went pitch black.

Shots flew blindly towards the demon, the sound of bones cracking from bullet impact filling the room. Then, just as the shots ceased, blood red eyes glowed from the demon’s position. The soldiers stepped back, some shaking uncontrollably as the eyes rose, towering above them all. A voice echoed through their minds.

You're afraid aren't you? Afraid of what you can’t deal with by killing. I want you to remember this.

A glow formed around the demon, showing a large, human like creature with no mouth. It towered above the soldiers, a dark red energy cloaking it’s body to show its form.

I am not a child.

A stomp from the creature made the building shake.

I am not an experiment.

Another stomp. Countless voices spoke in sync with the creature.

I'm a nightmare.

The red glow disappeared from the demon, being replaced by red lines that crawled up its entire body. Bullets of every kind harmlessly flew into the creature's body. It ignored them, instead letting out the abundance of energy it had in the form of an explosion.

The boy woke up in screams. His body ached, shaking as he crawled towards his home through the storm. He managed a few meters before he fell back to the floor. He turned his face away from the floor and reassured himself that he would survive. The memories that were forcing themselves into his brain only supported that. He outstretched his arm, as if reaching for someone to grab on to.

“I’m not an experiment.”

His voice was nothing but a hoarse whisper.

“I’m not a demon.”

The pain from his body crawled upwards and concentrated on his right eye. The pain grew, making him wish he had remained unconscious. He writhed in pain yet still kept his arm out. Still reaching, still searching for help. He knew help wasn’t there. His hand moved away from the outside world, instead going towards himself.

“I. am. X.”