[PROTOTYPE] - Lost and Found

I've found the truth. Redeemed myself, at least a little. But now I'm confronted with more questions than answers. Not about Blacklight—about me. Not about Blackwatch or GENTEK. No, I'm thinking about what's next. What do I do now?

Do I take down Blackwatch? GENTEK? I want to make life a living hell for those bastards for everything they did. At the same time...I just want to put it all behind me. I know I'll never able to forget everything I've learned. Everything I've seen and done. The voices, the memories...they'll always haunt me, even if Blackwatch and GENTEK do disappear. Best I can do is move forward.

Do I have a place to belong among humanity after saving some of it? I dunno. I can certainly blend in and act the part. But living among humans? Living life like them? I'm not human, but am I human enough to do something like that?

Hell, what place does someone—something—like me have in the world?

I do know one thing, though: I can't stay here. Sure as hell can't stay with Dana. If she still has me in her life...I'm afraid she'll get hurt. Or worse. Might as well be painting a big target on her back if I stick around.

Guess I'll go on a little cross-country trip, then. Maybe I'll find some sort of purpose along the way, a place to belong.

—-

I've been moving around from city to city for the past few months. Passing by in human society is a struggle on many fronts. Assuming the form of someone else—becoming them—is only a part of keeping myself off the map. I need to control my...urges too. I've lost track of how many times I almost consumed some poor innocent bastard because I was...well, hungry.

I never gave a second thought to consuming anyone during the outbreak, regardless of who they were. New York City was falling apart around me. I was being hunted. Consuming those
people was necessary for survival. For finding the truth.

But now? There was no outbreak, no military. I still need to consume others, though. Part of me still sees it as a necessity, and as a source of pure ecstasy. Biomass is my main food source, after all. And nothing compares to the pure pleasure of feeling someone's life essence melding with my own flesh.

Of course, that's before the memories start flooding in. Even though the memories of a random passerby don't cause the sensory overload a Blackwatch or GENTEK guy would, it still hurts. Feels kinda like a really bad headache, but three times worse. I regret consuming those people sometimes. Not just because of the memories. I'm erasing someone else, adding them to my own vault of identities. I try feeding on the homeless, the criminals, the bottom-feeders of human society...but the remorse still exists.

I can never stay in one place for very long, let alone using one identity. Friendly interaction with other people eases my mind a little, but it can never last. Long-term relationships are completely out of the question.

I still hope that there's someplace in the world for me to belong, but I just need do what I can to stay hidden.

—-

I can't live like this. Everywhere I go, I leave death in my wake, even if people don’t quite suspect it. I know it's in my nature to kill others, and I know my own survival comes before anyone else's. That’s why I can't exist among humans. I'm not like them. I can never be like them.

If I have no place among humans, do I have no place in this world either?

I need to isolate myself. From society, from the world. So I can think.

—

I've been observing humanity from a distance for some time now. I've also been thinking about many things: what does it mean to be human? Are humans worth leaving to their own devices, or even being protected?

The countless minds within me have made me knowledgeable to the numerous facets of human thought and behavior. The negative memories—the ones filled with pain, tragedy, shame—were the most powerful and the most frequent. It wasn't just the minds of soldiers and scientists that were filled with these negative emotions; regular people who never experienced the outbreak possessed these kinds of thoughts as well. Humans are corrupt and flawed by nature, I concluded after dwelling on those memories. However, I've also seen the occasional positive memory. Based on those particular memories, I learned that humans aren't completely evil; they are capable of empathy and compassion. The more I observe their behavior in real-time, however, the more I realize that I put a little too much faith in those positive traits.

Humans are a self-destructive species. It was an unavoidable fact, a recurring pattern in their behavior. They fight each other for a multitude of petty reasons, and their supposed kindness and decency was merely a charade. Suddenly, the realization dawned on me: this self-destructive nature was the reason Blacklight was created—the reason why I exist. It made sense: humans have been creating weapons of war for millennia. The virus was just another such weapon on that never-ending list.

Why had I not realized this simple fact? How did I forget the reason behind my existence? I was suddenly angry with myself: Trying to find a place in this world—among HUMANS—was a mistake. Humans created me, and then they reject me. They leave me to rot—alone—with the world as my prison.

I can understand why, though. The humans fear me. They fear me because of the power I wield, and because they are my prey. I am the superior predator. I almost pity them; they couldn't understand the taste of power like mine.

That's when I came to another realization: if the world has no place for me, then I should create a new world in its place. A world that has a place for me. A world without war or suffering, and a new breed of humanity that will transcend human nature—perhaps even life and death.

A world—and humanity—reborn from Blacklight. I had finally found my purpose.

And I knew the perfect place to start planting the seeds that will bring about this new world. The place where everything began.

New York City. Penn Station.