Sartiga F. Bhernt

"Where my passion formed!"

Raised by a single cop, he found himself home alone constantly since he was conscious enough to be taught how to care for himself. What was dull and monochrome at first slowly had color sparkled into it when he started to mess around with whatever he could find in every nook and cranny. What he found was a gold mine that kept the rest of his days filled with an excitement unlike any other, after he was finished with whatever it is he needed to do to maintain the house, there was a toolbox and many spare parts he found while scrounging around the house (and also cleaning). With it, and maybe some garbage he'd look for in the dumpsters right outside their apartment (despite his guardian's warning to NOT go outside) he made several knicknacks and little trinkets, "gadgets" he'd say as he shows it off enthusiastically to his guardian that would come home tired and strained by their duties. It brought both of them joy, and Sartiga even more excitement after he was left again, giving him more time to come up with even more ideas.

"What could I have done?"

"Thank the Gods he had his own thing going on." He heard his guardian say to whoever they had visiting, although he never really understood whether it was out of pride that they say it. He couldn't really know what other way they meant it, even if he wanted to. Now that he was older, he was allowed to go outside, althoug his guardian insisted he keep a gun with him at all times, as he could never know what he'd run into. Whether this was really illegal or not, he couldn't have known. He was far too sheltered in his own priorities to really even think about it, moreso because he never had to use it.

It had gotten particularly late that night, which for him felt like the perfect time to use his chemiluminescent lantern, extracting and making use of the properties and compounds in glowsticks, and amplifying the light they create. Of course, as always, his guardian's words and warnings always came true somehow. "Don't mess with that stuff, it can burn you pretty badly" "That's sharp, be careful" "You're going to fall over, you know that?" Somehow, they did indeed know that all of that was going to happen, and it did, and they patched Sartiga up every time. What could he do now in this situation? Could they patch him up from this?

He found a man, woman? He couldn't actually tell from where they stood, or kneeled, for that part. They were blooded. They were kneeling over something dead and that was all what was needed to terrify him. The person made some sound he couldn't bother to hear, but their eyes were just so- wide. It was so panicked, almost like that panic was transferred to him when he looked at them. He was running through the woods, from the abandoned building he'd usually look for scraps and old material in, where he had found the person. There had never been anyone there during any of his visits there. There was heaviness that weighed down on his stomach when he kept remembering the sight of that corpse the person was over. "Don't look back." He has never appreciated his guardian's words any more than he did now. That sight could have sent him stumbling, and dead.

He reached into his bag, his hands sifting through the many other things he had before he felt the gun's handle, and the trigger. He felt confused now, and the weight he felt reached his chest. Was it fear? Was it faitgue? He had to do something now. He couldn't let it catch up, could it? Otherwise he'd end up like that dead thing. He tried looking back to shoot it, but the person's loud, frantic yell set him off the ground and tumbling back into it, feeling his head bump against the many thick roots of the trees that extended all around them. The person was fast approaching with those bloodshot eyes, th-

BANG.

Like in any other situation, it happened too fast. He turned off the safety that fast? That quickly? How'd he do that? Too many things were going on perhaps, as he couldn't even remember pulling out his phone to make a call. Who was he calling? What did he say? He couldn't tell either. All he could remember from that night was the still terrifying eyes of the person he had just shot. Their eyes were still wide open. The same way they were when he encountered the person.

Suddenly, the police were there. His guardian was there. He was thankful to at least remember to not leave after he called for help. He was sure he'd end up wandering off, his mind was numb and hazy at that time for sure. There was another woman at the scene, and she knelt in front of the body he had shot. Some police came to restrain her from getting any closer to Sartiga and his guardian, another officer explaining the entirety of the situation.

"She's been missing, and says here on the case file that she was kidnapped along with 4 others. The other body we identified pretty much lined up with the suspect."

At that moment, he was somehow able to muster up another coherent thought. He killed someone.

And not just anyone, a victim too. Someone who, after some more words exchanged between his guardian and the officer he realized had fought for their life. They were asking him for help, probably. Maybe that's why they yelled and screamed. He was scared, and it ended up this way. Was he to blame? He did find them in front of a dead body, that looks like it was killed. How could he have known?

Through the rivers of snot and tears that muddied the face of who was assumed to be the person's mother who laid lifeless on the ground, she screamed, frantically that it felt like it'd be heard clearly from underwater.

YOU KILLED HER! YOU! YOU!!

As she continued, another thought formed in his mind:

That, looking a little closer, it did look like a girl.

If only he knew what she needed before he acted.

.

.

.

The days that came after that incident were at first, filled with a bleak nothingness. He could barely do anything. How could anyone at his age? After what he saw? After what he did? His guardian says he couldn't blame himself. Aide. That was their name. Shame mixed with guilt was much like the baking powder and vinegar volcano he showed them back then. Did he ever? He couldn't bother confirming. All he knew is that it had a sickening, sharp smell that bothered him with every breath he took, and it was acidic, and it felt like it was inside him.

Slowly, the days grew less like that, and more like...nothing he knew before. It definitely could not be the way it was, no way. He was sure. But it was something else other than that, and maybe that was enough. He continued making his 'gadgets' again, much more complex and practical. Slowly, adulthood approached.

"I will never forget."

"Hey, you're good at making things, right?. He was pretty certain that that's where it all started. And of course, he wasn't one to undermine his capabilities — He answered yes and he was put up to a task. It was a simple one, making something that automatedly looped a common motor task. Like sweeping. He would've thought that they were lazy if it weren't for every other equest that followed that prevented him from reaching that realization. The thrill of praise and thanks and all for something he loved to do? What could ever be wrong with that? The people around him knew what they wanted and he knew how to deliver that.

Even with the multitude of requests he was put up to, he managed to accomplish that all while earning himself a masters degree in engineering. He worked what jobs could keep him alive until he somehow landed himself into the foundation, directed to be working at Site 21.