Mother's Least Favorite: Chapter 2 – Use of the Useless

Chapter 2 – Use of the Useless

I’ve struggled to find a purpose in my life ever since I got my new abilities. At first, I pretended to be the man I killed by being a part of his family. It was easy because I have his memories and can imitate his voice. His appearance has also given me the cover I need to go back into the facility to further look into my abilities, but after a few days, I stopped pretending to be the man. It felt wrong to be someone I’m not and lie to the man’s family, and I didn’t find any useful information on the mud I’m comprised of.

Since that didn’t work, I went to confession at a church, of all places, because it randomly entered my mind for whatever reason. I haven’t been there since my family forced me to go in my teenage years, and it was an awkward experience. There, I admit the many things I’ve done, such as murder, lying at my first confession, lying to be someone else, and so much more. The priest tells me to make amends to the family of the man I murdered, so I do by leaving a note on the dinner table of the man’s family admitting that I was actually a stranger and the real man they love had died three days ago before leaving and never looking back. It's the only way I think of making amends because telling the truth to the family would only get me caught by the authorities and put back into that facility to be experimented on.

Well, that was pointless and, somehow, a relieving experience at the same time. It seems my life is at a real dead end now. Should I kill someone else who has a comfortable life and take their place? No, I felt too guilty after the first person I killed to do it again. It could be a simple task to fabricate a new identity, but I would be living a miserable life again, with the only benefit or curse being that I can’t get sick and die.

In the silence of the night, I think and think and think and don’t come up with any answers that I like. I wish I was someone else. Maybe I could be someone else and forget who I was, but no matter how much I tear at my mind and try, I can’t forget who I was. The man who I killed is easily set aside in my head and doesn’t take a prominent place in my memory, but my name, Ignazio, and the memories associated with me take priority, and the details of it are clearer and feel more real than that of the man’s. My true identity clings to me, and my most shameful memories torture me like a curse no matter how much of myself I tear off. There’s no real choice for me other than to accept the pathetic excuse of the man I am and move on.

A full day passes before I make up my mind and chose to look into more of the truck that was carrying the mud that mutated me. From the report I last read, the truck was actually stolen from inside the facility, so someone besides Coronamento wants to make use of the mud and is willing to go to dangerous lengths to get it. I follow the leads Coronamento and their private investigators have and then go from there. Unlike them, I can go days and nights without sleep, food, or water and somehow be fine without the need for any of it. Thanks to my tireless hours of following people around, I find out that an underground group of criminals stole the truck and are planning another theft at a meeting today.

Knowing where a few of the people are, I visit one of them in their homes, kill them, and take their place. They’re a criminal, and I planned on killing them all anyway. Upon looking through this man’s memories, I feel even better about having killed him. Going into the basement, I release a woman he held captive and yell at her to leave. She does while crying and without any clothes on, and I leave not too far behind her. The meeting location is here in the desolate part of the city and not too far from this house. It’s a rundown factory that was once a prominent employer and valuable producer back in my grandfather’s day.

The factory is heavily guarded by people of both gangs per their previous agreement. Inside, I see just as many, if not more guards and a few people already here with me, sitting down at the meeting table. The three look at me with suspicion as I slouch down on the chair. I light a cigar that’s filled with some foreign chemicals that I didn’t know about until I killed this man, blow smoke at them, and smile.

“Like it?” I say and then laugh. “It’s a new brand I’m testing.”

Despite my surprise at my own acting, I’m thankful that I’m able to act so confidently since I have the man’s memories. If I was myself, I probably would’ve pissed myself by now.

“Can’t you wait until your testers make sure that stuff doesn’t kill you quickly?” one of the bosses says. “We need a product that keeps customers coming back, not one that instantly kills them. Do you remember what happened with your homebrew alcohol?”

“I do. It was wild and worth the week I spent in the hospital. It’s a shame we didn’t make more. I wanted more.”

“A man like you, whose blood is all alcohol and drugs, can handle it to an extent. Other people, even the addicts who scratch their skin off every day, died before they finished the bottle,” another boss says.

“Oh, shut up. You know what? I’ll give you all a truckload of my finest products if you let me have a personal supply of that booze for myself and the most hardcore of addicts, sold at the most premium of premiums.” I then start pointing at each of the bosses. “I know how you like them young, virgin, and pure. I got whales of every skin color for you. I didn’t forget about you and have been keeping myself from my supply of chicks with dicks and boys with vags for you. These can be all yours and more if you accept my offer.”

“I’ll consider it and talk about it over dinner tonight. Let’s do this one meeting at a time. Okay, Vic?” one of the bosses says.

“Alright, okay…”

Vic, the man I’m pretending to be, really did kidnap so many people and have them ready for the criminal bosses today. He’s known to be extra and a ruthless human trafficker. Of all the times, I wish I could snap my neck now so I could kill Vic again for the things he’s done. If they don’t take the offer, Vic planned to have his way with his captives until he either sells them off, kills them in his sick games, or outright kills them and has their bodies sold to cannibals and people who are into having sex with dead bodies. This meeting can’t start soon enough. It would be so easy to just kill everyone here, take their memories, and continue my search for information from there, but I know some people are coming who know more, so I wait as patiently as I can with my foot constantly tapping on the floor.

More people come in, and after fifteen minutes, everyone arrives, takes their seats, and readies themselves for the meeting. Everyone seems to be here except one important person that I can’t seem to pinpoint in Vic’s memories. Come on, you sick bastard, who is it? This guy’s brain might as well be made of garbage and crap for how good it is at remembering things outside of people’s fetishes, tastes in drugs and alcohol, and his vendetta against his parents in the government.

“Ladies and gentlemen, while we wait for our man of science to arrive, I’d like to renew our promise for what we’ll do with do with our prize once we obtain it and our roles in obtaining it,” the big boss says.

This big boss is a manager for all the criminal bosses who are allied to him and is probably the biggest and most powerful person in the city besides those who have legitimate power in the government or Coronamento.

“Do we really have to?” I say before cutting off my act. “Fine. I’ll make the most durable products you can imagine. You can do whatever your heart desires to them, even tear out and eat their hearts, and they’ll still be kicking and screaming. I’ll make sure those people in Coronamento are seduced into giving us the information we want, or there’s also sending my slaves at them as human bombs. I have enough to bring down a building anyway.”

I want to throw up after hearing Vic’s plan coming from my own mouth. The other bosses tell of their plans to use the mud to make better soldiers, give themselves immortality, put it in their drugs, and sell everything I mentioned to both criminals and legitimate institutions alike. They talk about their plans, each either infiltrating the Coronamento facility I was in through insiders, making their own entrance, or a head-on assault.

“Very good,” a new person says as she enters the meeting area. “I expect our plan will go smoothly, assuming everyone does their role without getting ahead of themselves and only going for the objective.”

The woman who arrives is dressed like a bum, but she’s someone I remember seeing at the facility I woke up in.

“I’m used to waiting before I get the…release I want,” I say with a chuckle and then switch to being serious. “What about the poor bastard who crashed into the first truck we stole? Is he important?”

“Yes, very important, if not the most important. We’ll have to find him after obtaining the research since his body contains the perfect formula for melding a body with the mud, so we can see how exactly it works and is supposed to be put together.”

I start laughing while transforming my face into its original form and using my real voice.

“Well…here I am,” I say with a smile and then turn the rest of my body into blunt and sharp weapons.

Before anyone can say anything, I start slashing people’s throats and bodies in half and smashing them into pulp in the ground. They start loading their weapons with special rounds and uselessly shooting at me while others try to escape. I make my arms shoot out to reach whoever escapes, especially the leaders who I bring into myself, so I can have their memories, voices, and appearance. No one escapes, and I become more brutal with every leader I assume into my body, and their memories become mine. My fight with them ends painlessly and more easily than I expected.

All these memories in my head are overwhelming and offer me the chance to take the position of someone in great power and influence, and yet, they aren’t me. I know who I am and what I have to do with these memories. Each and every one of these people’s associates will be exposed for their crimes or killed for it. I think I prefer killing at this point. It’s so much quicker and goes over a flawed justice system that these people have been able to manipulate to their will. Yes, I think that’s what I’ll do. This will be my life’s work and penance for my evil deeds.