A Better Fake (Short Story)

Ohaithere. I've been working on a short story about Kaiser and his "reincarnation", and I wanted to post what I've got so far and get some feedback. ^^

A Better Fake
By Noah B.

The body lied on a cold metal table, bound by indestructible withstraints at the ankles, calves, thighs, waist, abdomen, chest, wrists, elbows, shoulders, neck, and forehead. These precautions may have seemed overdone and unnecessary, but not to anyone who knew what the man held back by them was capable of. And even with these sturdy bonds, the attending doctors and nurses feared for their lives.

Dr. Gregory Strauss headed the team of human architects at L.A.W., a military testing group that specialized in metahuman experiments. His non-existent expression yet wicked eyes didn’t falter, although his heart writhed with fear. Strauss had been assigned the task of reviving a powerful metahuman called “Fake”, one whom L.A.W. saw as a key asset to performing their most infamous dirty work. It was rumored that he had been killed by a reaper called “Necati”, who came to take his soul to the deepest circle of Hell, but no one could confirm the notion.

This man had no jurisdiction, mercy, nor the humanistic qualities of reason. His heart pulsed with satanic blood lust, even in the purged state it was at now. He was a murderous, conniving monster that was ruled solely by his and L.A.W.’s muddied view of justice and perfection. This metahuman was to become the government’s dog.

A large aluminum cart played host to the tools that would assist Dr. Strauss and his team of surgeons, neurologists, psychologists, nurses, and the head of experimental alterations. The pretty knives were organized by sharpness, precision, and size. There were numerous pairs of surgical scissors next to an even larger assortment of needles. A specialized drill and saw complimented each other in their unnerving terror, and among these ordinary items were strange ones as well: a string of deep crimson rosary beads with a black cross pendant lay in their own enigmatic way, placed symmetrically by a steel tube of dark liquid gas that was undoubtedly the boldest of all its competition on the tray.

“Ready the heart monitor,” Strauss said coolly, selecting an IV needle and pushing it into the body’s wrist. The droning noise of an absent pulse sounded. “And the paddles, too.” A static hum joined in as two nurses scribbled down the data and a blonde-haired surgeon moved in, clenching a short, serrated knife with obvious terror.

“Steady, Leslie. We wouldn’t want to cause him even more a reason to kill us,” the doctor smiled sheepishly. Leslie nodded, put on a determined face, and proceeded. She stared at Fake’s smooth, milky belly that was marked at the points of expected incisions. The room grew silent and everyone held their breath; it was as if they expected the body to come back to life and attack them at any moment. The surgeon lowered the knife at the base of her patient’s abdomen and took in a breath.

It glided through his skin with ease. Shiny, glistening blood oozed from the new crevices and trickled down its owner’s canvas. The sound of flesh and muscle being sliced through ended the uneasy quiet, although not a comforting thing to experience with one’s senses. “Good,” Dr. Strauss commented. Leslie looked up with a relieved expression, but it didn’t last long. Her break in concentration caused her blade to swerve and make a foreign cut in the body.

“Incompetent twit!” Strauss roared. Suddenly, his hand hit Leslie’s face with a stinging blow, knowing her to the floor. “Do you realize what you’ve done? Our whole operation could be compromised because of you!” Leslie shrank back, too afraid to speak. Dr. Strauss breathed slowly. “Leave.” The blonde surgeon left.

The next two hours were spent cutting, sewing, cutting and sewing with scissors and knifes. Lastly, Strauss picked up the drill and saw.


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That's all I've got so far. Thanks for reading!