Virus: Insanity

~6~

When Stephen woke up, he knew he was himself. No murderous thoughts, no insane foresights, no uncontrollable rage. What happened back there? He tried to move, but his arms and legs were weighed down by clanking chains. He sighed. They didn't trust him. He didn't trust himself either. A door clicked open nearby and he looked over at it. In walked Naia, the girl who was in charge of all the captive mutants. She was a pretty girl, her thick black hair flowing down to her mid-back, her ebony eyes laughing. Sadly, she wasn't actually laughing. She disconnected him from the table he was chained to, hauling him to his feet.
"C'mon," she said. "I gotta show you to your new home."
"I didn't mean to," he said, the chains binding his wrists and feet rattling.
"I know." Stephen didn't want to say more. Naia's voice revealed her hatred for the duty she was performing. She led him into the prison hall, looking around at them. She stopped at one cell, where a teenage boy with messy brown hair, broken glasses, and an arm made of fruitcake sat in an electric chair.
"I won't!" the boy yelled, giggling crazily. "I'll never tell!"
"Then it's fruitcake weather," Naia snapped, pressing a button. The boy laughed maniacally as the electricity flew through him, turning his body into fruitcake. Stephen watched in horror as his head became consumed, his wild eyes the last thing to go. Then he exploded, splattering fruitcake all over the glass. Naia took her hand off the button, pulling Stephen away from the carnage and into the long hall of titanium-reinforced glass boxes. The only light came from inside the cells, the glow taking a break every time they passed a set. The walls only went three cells high, but the cells were each about as big as a classroom. All sorts of mutants were stored here. There was the fruitcake kid (Stephen saw that his cell tag said his name was Jeremy), a kid who looked about ten with giant crab claws instead of arms and hands, a woman with blue hair, a dorsal fin, a fish tail and gills in what looked like an oversized fish tank, a young adult curled up asleep in a corner, tiger tail swishing and striped ears twitching, sharp claws striking fear into Stephen's heart. To his relief, Naia kept walking, but she didn't walk far. She pulled him onto a platform and pressed a button with an up arrow on it, making the platform rise up off the ground and get chain-lifted up to the second level balcony. She pulled him across a walkway to a few cells over, to the nearest empty one. She opened a door on the side and shoved him in, seeming a bit regretful.
"I don't think that you should be blamed for this," she said, looking away. Her hair fell over her face. "I'm sorry." She didn't look back at him again, closing the door behind him. The shackles fell off of him and another door opened. He walked through, entering his cell. It was bland, with white walls and an enclosed bathroom in the corner and a bed. His eyes rested on the mirror--not the window--on the wall. He truly saw himself for what he was: a freak. The whole left side of his body was covered in grass-green shell-like plating, the plate on his shoulder with two burn marks on it from the tasers. His left leg was bent inwards, giving him a lopsided look. He now realized that he had a subconscious limp, for his left leg was slightly shorter than his right. His mouth was deformed on the left as well, slightly larger and with different, now jagged, teeth arrangement. His eyes on the left were yellow paint droplets, shiny and rounded. His right eye was normal, skewing his vision. The only thing that affected both sides of his body were his wings. They were a set, two on each side of his body. They were beautiful, like woven lace, yet as strong as an airplane's wing. His first thought was that they would be a good asset, then he went back on it. What would they be a good asset for, now that he had no affiliation? For yourself, his conscience said. He refused to listen. This was the same voice that had made him go insane. Why do you ignore me? it said in the hissing voice that had tortured him previously. I just want to help.
"NO!" he screamed. He gripped his head, trying to recover. Look in the mirror. Look and see yourself. He froze. He released his head and looked at the mirror, the pull of curiosity dragging him over. He saw himself as a whole human, the way he was before. He had perfectly straight chocolate hair, styled so the front stopped at his chin while the rest went down to his shoulders, his sharp green eyes almost as piercing as a mutant's, accenting his slightly olivine skin. His slender yet muscular form was clothed in an old Imagine Dragons t-shirt and jeans, his feet donned with black Nike shoes with red accents. He stared at himself for a long time, tears streaming down his face. He reached out and touched the mirror with his human hand, his smiling past self touching it as well. I am not you, the voice said. You are you.
"Then...who are you?" Stephen asked. I am your other half, the voice said, the image in the mirror changing. It now showed a mutant, his left half mirrored in his right. He gasped, backing up. This is me.
"What are you?" Stephen asked. "Who are you?" I am the mutant. My name is Insanity.
"Are...are you the virus?" What do you mean?
"Are you the one who's inside everyone? The mutant virus? The one that can't be entirely cured but left untreated turns you into a monster and makes you insane?" ...Yes.