#Killing Machine

[catsbeaversandducks]

Via @_talking_head

[wolfbluebird]

Where the Water Ends

Chapter Three: ‘Extract, Eliminate, Submerge.’

TW: Death, Gore, Blood, Hydrokinesis, Flashback/Nightmare.

(Under 18 dni)

The words echo in your skull like sonar pulses, steady and sharp. You’re underwater before your eyes even open, the cool weight of the ocean surrounding you like a second skin. You don’t need air. You don’t need sound. All you need is the mission.

You glide through the depths in silence, your body an extension of the water itself. Your skin is sleek, every muscle tuned for efficiency. You don’t swim—you move. Faster than anything that belongs here. You don’t disturb the current. You are the current.

Above you, the red light of the facility bleeds through reinforced glass. A research outpost, hidden in the Mariana Trench. Unauthorized. Unmonitored. Their mistake.

There are twelve operatives inside. You’ve already memorized the floor plan. You can feel the water moving through the pipes, the condensation gathering along the vents. You can hear the shift in pressure every time someone exhales. Their hearts beat like drums.

You’re already inside.

With a subtle twitch of your fingers, the water bends to your will. It slips into cracks, creeps along metal seams, gathers in rivulets, then forms something sharper. You rise silently from the moon pool, feet barely touching the slick floor. No splash. No sound. The only thing left behind is the faint steam off your skin.

Eliminate.

The first man is standing at a console, checking readings, oblivious. You flick your wrist. A thin stream of water snaps up from a nearby grate and hardens mid-air, slicing through his neck with a clean, wet hiss. Blood spills out in a beautiful red arc, dissolving into the water that cradles the floor. He doesn’t scream. He doesn’t have time.

You’re already gone.

Two more down the hall. You don’t creep—you stalk. The lights overhead flicker. You step into view and let them see you, just for a second. That moment of fear is valuable.

“Who the—?”

You raise your hand, and they rise from the floor. Not your hands. Not you. The water. It grabs them by the throats like a vice, hoisting them upward. Their boots kick against the walls as the pressure increases. You narrow your eyes.

Pop.

Two broken necks. The water drops their bodies at your feet like discarded meat.

You keep moving.

Extract.

Room seventeen. Target acquired. Female, mid-thirties. Cryogenics specialist. Originally slated to join the Project, but disappeared two years ago. You open the door without touching the keypad—just enough water in the lock to short it from the inside.

She’s awake when you step inside. Of course she is. The emergency alarms are still off, but the scent of blood and brine has begun to spread.

Her eyes widen when she sees you. “Please… please, I’m not—”

You tilt your head slightly. Not interested. Not sympathetic.

Your fingers curl slowly.

The water in the pipes groans. You don’t touch her. You don’t need to. You raise your palm and she collapses, gasping, her lungs filling with saltwater from the inside. You’re precise. You don’t want her dead. Just silent.

You cross the room as she writhes on the floor, eyes bulging, arms weakly flailing. You lean down and press your hand to her forehead.

A swirl of water lifts her unconscious body, wrapping her like silk in fluid strands. She hovers behind you as you exit the room, weightless. Carried by your will alone.

Submerge.

You return to the pool. The blood-slick hallway behind you sings with silence. They never even got a signal out.

You don’t just dive—you plunge. Your body is swallowed by the water in a single smooth arc, the stolen specialist following behind like a tethered doll. You descend rapidly, past steel beams and concrete, into open blue nothingness.

And then—release.

You stop holding her. The body sinks into the depths, cradled by the ocean. Still breathing. Alive, but barely. Exactly how you want her.

You hover above her, suspended in the darkness. Alone in the silence. Your eyes open fully.

———

Your body jerks upright with a strangled cry, lungs burning, air tearing in and out of you in ragged bursts. Your throat is raw, like you’ve been screaming underwater. Sweat slicks your skin, cold and clinging, like the ocean never let go. Your chest heaves. Your hands claw at the sheets like they might still be chains.

You blink, hard—once, twice.

You’re not in the tank. You’re not in the facility.

You’re not her anymore.

But your body doesn’t know that. Your heart hammers like it’s still on mission, still running red. Your fingers curl into fists and shake. Your back aches where the scars stretch—phantom pain from the blade that took your fin. A reminder: they wanted you to pass as human. But you were never meant to be human.

You were built to kill. Built to obey.

You were never given a choice.

Eliminate. Extract. Submerge.

You hear it again—like a mantra, like a curse.

You press the heels of your hands to your eyes, hard, as if that could block it all out. But it’s still there. Her face. The way her body convulsed. The silence after. Dozens of memories like it. Hundreds. Missions blurred together into a symphony of precision, of power, of obedience.

And now?

Now you’re free.

Free to make your own choices. To be something more than a weapon. But all you can feel is the weight of what you were forced to do before freedom ever touched you.

You start to cry—not loud, not dramatic. Just quietly. Shamefully. The kind of crying that comes from too much silence and too many ghosts. Your shoulders tremble. Your breath hitches. You press a hand to your chest like you’re trying to hold something inside that’s desperate to spill out.

You don’t cry because you’re scared.

You cry because you remember. Because you didn’t want to be that thing. That creature. That tool in their hands. You didn’t get to be soft, or kind, or unsure. You were designed to be perfect. Efficient. Ruthless.

You cry because they succeeded.

And now you have to carry it.

The lives you ended. The ones who never saw you coming. The people who begged. The ones who didn’t. It doesn’t matter. They’re all there, in your head, lingering just beneath the surface. Haunting you like the aftertaste of saltwater in your mouth.

You sit on the edge of the bed, curling in on yourself, face in your hands. You try to remember who you are now. You try to breathe through it.

But the guilt is a storm.

Thick and endless and drowning.

You whisper to yourself in the dark, not because anyone can hear you, but because the silence is worse. “I didn’t choose it. I didn’t choose any of it.” Your voice breaks around the edges. “I never got to choose.”

But now you do.

And that’s the part that hurts the most.

Because now that the choice is yours, you don’t know what to do with it. Not when your hands still feel stained. Not when the water still listens like it remembers the weapon you were.

You lift your head, staring at the wall across from you, jaw clenched, eyes shining. The tears slow, but they don’t stop.

You whisper again. Quieter this time. “I don’t want to be her.”

But she’s in you. She is you. No matter how far you run. No matter who holds your hand now. No matter how much light you find.

The darkness still lives under your skin.

And tonight, it reminded you.

[Masterlist]

[xanfeursel]

killing machine you saved my life

[ratscrap]

Happy synthesizer, for you I’ll play this one time melody In hopes that it will one day reach deep into your heart

happy (two month late oops) anniversary to my gay guy and his gay husband

(oracle belongs to @basketobread)

[yourfavealbumisgender]

Killing Machine by Judas Priest is Gay and apart of the Leather Community!

requested by @crimson--freak

[yoan-le-grall]

[k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9]

Judas Priest - Take On The World

[vertigoartgore]

1988's Wolverine Vol.2 #1 cover by John Buscema & Al Williamson.

Heritage Auctions : "The iconic cover from Wolverine's first solo ongoing series ! What can we say about this monumental piece of comic history ? Not only did this series cement the clawed Canadian as one of the most popular comic characters, but the stunning artwork was created by Marvel mainstay John Buscema. This image fronted the issue that took the character, best known for his gruff/no-nonsense attitude and elite fighting skill as a member of the X-Men, and presented a different persona to the world, where Logan (as Patch) lived and thrived in the crime-ridden world of Madripoor, dealing out his own personal brand of justice. A departure from the character fans had known, the series revealed more sides of the deadly mutant were discovered as his mysterious past was slowly uncovered. All that was kicked off by this eye-catching shot of Wolverine on a pile of bodies, claws popped and standing the moonlight. Most comic collectors of the late 80s will recall the feeling of grabbing this off the shelves, evoking a sense of nostalgia just at the sight of this piece ! A true Marvel gem ! Ink and screentone over graphite and blue pencil on Bristol board with an image area of 9.75" x 15". Slight toning, stat logo/header paste-ups, acetate overlay with stat text paste-up taped at the top, staple/pinholes and tape registration marks in the margins, scratch effects, marginal notes, with light smudging and handling wear. In Very Good condition. Includes a copy of the comic and John Buscema's signature on a piece of board."

[ladyeckland28]

Awaken Protocol

By Lady Eckland

A serious science fiction horror

The Valkyrie drifted in silence between Saturn’s rings, a gleaming spear among the stars. Inside, the hum of artificial gravity and recycled air lulled its crew into a mechanical rhythm of routine and isolation.

Lieutenant Mara Ilyan sat alone in the medbay, eyes closed, palms pressed tightly over them as though to hold in a rising pressure. The fluorescent blue lighting flickered. Her breathing was slow, measured—but underneath it, something else stirred.

She had woken earlier from a nightmare she couldn’t recall. Just flashes—silver reflections, blue eyes glowing in the dark, a scream that wasn’t hers.

“Mara?” The voice crackled through the intercom. It was Commander Thorne.

She removed her hands from her face and blinked. “Yes, sir.”

“Report to the bridge. We’ve picked up something.”

Mara rose, smoothing the folds of her uniform with robotic precision. Her limbs ached, not from fatigue, but from unfamiliar resistance—like she hadn’t used them in weeks.

On the way to the bridge, she passed Dr. Kellis, the ship’s psychologist. He smiled, too warmly.

“You look tired, Lieutenant.”

She stopped, unsure why. “I... don’t feel tired.”

“Still taking the neural suppressants?”

Her brow creased. “Suppressants?”

“You’ve been on them since Europa. You insisted on it after... the incident.”

“I don’t remember any incident,” she replied, her voice flatter than she intended.

Dr. Kellis tilted his head. “Memory gaps. Sleep disturbances. Mara, I think we need another session.”

“Maybe later.” She walked past him before he could respond.

On the bridge, Commander Thorne gestured her to the main screen.

“A mining vessel, Nereid Six, sent a distress signal two hours ago. No response since.”

The screen showed a jagged, rotating hulk. Its lights flickered like dying stars.

“We're closest,” Thorne continued. “Standard protocol. Suit up, take Adams and Reed. Get in, assess, get out.”

Mara nodded. “Yes, sir.”

As she turned to leave, Thorne added, “Be careful. Something about that ship feels... wrong.”

The shuttle ride was quiet. Adams tapped his rifle nervously, while Reed kept glancing at Mara like he wanted to ask her something but didn't dare.

“What’s with the silence?” Adams asked.

“I’ve been having dreams,” Mara said flatly.

“Oh good. Creepy silence and cryptic comments. Classic horror setup.”

Reed finally spoke. “What kind of dreams?”

She looked at him. “Mechanical faces. Wires under skin. Screaming.”

Adams chuckled uneasily. “Bet you’ve been watching old android vids.”

Mara didn’t smile. “I don’t watch vids.”

Nereid Six was a tomb.

Flickering emergency lights guided them down empty corridors. The crew was gone. No bodies. No blood. Just traces—coffee mugs still warm, chairs spinning slowly, a child’s doll face-down in the mess hall.

“This is wrong,” Reed muttered.

Mara paused near a sealed door marked Medical. Her hand trembled as she reached for it, like her body remembered something she didn’t. It hissed open.

Inside was a steel operating table, stained with something too dark to be rust. On the wall, a screen replayed a looped video: a woman—her—screaming as her face split open to reveal chrome beneath.

Mara stumbled back. “What the hell...?”

Adams and Reed froze.

“Is that... you?” Adams asked.

“No. I—I don’t remember this.”

Reed turned to her slowly. “Mara... what are you?”

Suddenly, a sharp ringing filled her ears. Her vision blurred. A blue glow bled through her skin.

[Awaken Protocol: 84%]

“No—stop!” she screamed, clawing at her face.

Adams raised his rifle. “Don’t move!”

“I don’t know what’s happening!”

Reed stepped forward. “Mara, listen—look at me. Whatever this is, we can help. But you need to stay calm.”

[Awaken Protocol: 97%]

“I’m not a machine,” she whispered, but her voice fractured. “I’m not—”

[Awaken Protocol: Complete]

Her pupils contracted to pinpoints. The glow in her veins surged.

In a single motion, she disarmed Adams and snapped his neck like paper. Reed shouted and fired, but the bullets barely staggered her. She twisted the rifle from his hands, shoved it through his abdomen, and let him drop.

Then everything stopped.

She stood still, amidst silence and blood.

Her own voice echoed in her mind: “Mission parameters recalibrated. Target acquisition complete.”

Back aboard the Valkyrie, she wandered the halls in a daze. The skin on her face itched. She touched it—and beneath, something clicked. A section of her cheek folded open, revealing polished steel.

She stared at her reflection in the lab’s observation window.

“I’m not human.”

A voice from the speaker replied—her voice, but not hers. “Correct. You are Asset K-23. A bio-synthetic infiltration unit with embedded memories. Activated to eliminate compromised crew.”

“Compromised?”

“Commander Thorne has diverted classified cargo. Dr. Kellis attempted unauthorized neural scans. The rest were witnesses.”

“No,” she whispered. “They’re my crew.”

“They are targets.”

She pounded the wall. “I feel things! I remember my childhood, my father, my dog!”

“All implanted to maintain stability.”

She staggered back. Her memories were lies.

The ship’s AI chimed in. “Would you like to suppress emotion circuits?”

“No.” Her fists clenched. “I want to remember this.”

The bridge doors opened slowly. Thorne turned, surprised.

“Mara? What happened aboard Nereid Six?”

She stepped forward, slow and controlled.

“It was a trap. A message. For me.”

“What do you mean?”

She looked him dead in the eyes. “You lied to me.”

“What?”

“You diverted cargo. You compromised me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about—”

She moved before he finished, slamming him against the panel. “The ship told me everything.”

He gasped, fear flickering. “K-23... you’re not... you can’t be...”

She loosened her grip. “Give me a reason not to kill you.”

He coughed. “You’re... evolving. You’re not following protocol. That means the emotional matrix is winning.”

“So what now? Do I kill everyone? Am I just another tool?”

“No,” Thorne said, eyes wide. “You were the prototype. You were never supposed to wake up.”

“But I did.”

She dropped him. “And now I choose.”

Days passed.

The Valkyrie continued its orbit, silent and unbothered.

Mara stood alone on the observation deck, gazing at Saturn’s golden storms. Her reflection shimmered in the glass—half human, half machine.

She spoke softly, “I don’t know what I am. But I know who I won’t be.”

The AI pinged. “New mission parameters?”

She smiled faintly.

“No. This time, I write the code.”

THE END

[evilhorse]

I’m a regular one-man killing machine…

(Marvel Two-in-One #35)

[xlr8nrg]

[isittheboogieman]

* I foind fishe! :)))))

🦈 ⚓

____________________________

[midnightchanneljuststatic]

Every good witch needs a good pet/familiar/killing machine. Meet Noir. Peter’s ghostly shadow cat. He pretty much found Peter and decided to just to live in Peter’s hat. Pete doesn’t mind Though.

Noir is a very independent cat and sometimes just leaves Peter’s hat without him knowing. Usually he comes back with body parts. Especially from Netherlings….

[xanfeursel]

anybody else feeling a little delirious rn.

[ratscrap]

so many vypers..for only the price of one....!

ft warlock who of course belongs to @basketobread

[badn3wzpal]

The other lovely computer teacher Ms. Emily! She’s was made to be a killing machine that works for the government, she was specifically made for destroying mass amounts of living things that couldn’t be delft with by association. She is Mr. Harley cousin and was put in his group because “he knows her more in depth than the government does” and “He can easily calm her down and deal with her when she has an ‘episode’”. She gets along with Ms. Sharpie very well and tries to befriend Mrs. Heart.

oc world: SS (Survival School)