I watch the film footage from the news outlets about the Angel Falls attack and the three villains tearing up the city and killing the humans. Reviewing all information readily available about this group was a matter of preparation for our little band to handle this Twisted Savant character. Of course, it is not "murder" to kill essentially cattle, so there is no concern on my part for the damage, death, and destruction per se. Where the so called heroes were was anyone's guess, though truly helping lift the outmoded and woefully inadequate race from the ashes of their greatest, though pathetic, achievements apparently is illegal. Angel Falls demonstrates just how much the human species lacks, though solid experimentation and development of genetic advancements cannot be performed without the never ending administrivia dooming such efforts to failure. I wonder if these super heroes really have the agenda of keeping humanity from growing to ensure that humanity continues to acquiesce to mediocrity.
These villainous comrades of mine continue to work together and our collective agreement that this Twisted Savant character demands our attention and caution lest we become what he needs and we lose our autonomy. We can overcome and we must.
I am a HERO among a world of evil. Heroes that keep my former race in subjugated stagnation and villains who seek to simply take advantage of them. I feel more alone than ever in my quest to lift humanity into the next level of their evolution, but I must succeed. I will succeed. With a goal as lofty as mine, the means required to achieve that end demand sacrifice of many rules and biased ethics. What price could be placed upon such a monumental goal? The goal literally is worth more than any price, justifying any actions taken to achieve it.
I roll my eyes, tossing imaginary glasses, much like those I needed before my evolution. I even pinch the bridge of my,… um, snout?… to demonstrate my disdain for the circumstance of Angel Falls. Morty and the five subservient test subjects may watch what I might. I wonder what their tiny human brains are thinking at this moment. Morty, I hope, can see he is on the right path, leading his kind to a new level of growth. Perhaps he does not quite comprehend the goal, but he will.
Morty hangs in his restraints in Goodman's efforts to heal him. Nonsensical gibbering quietly escapes Morty's lips, though his thoughts surround only one thing. "Please God, don't let him torture me… just let me die,… please… I beg You… please…"
Jerry rocks back and forth, sitting on the floor, legs crossed and cradled by his arms. Long ago Jerry stopped caring about his hygiene, squishing the excrement and urine from earlier in the day within the cracks of his body and saturating the plain jumpsuit he wears. Goodman treated Jerry reasonably well, with no pain or torment. But Jerry saw more horror than most people see in their entire lifetime, though Morty's awful "procedure" remained etched down to Jerry's soul. Any psychologist could see Jerry's symptoms as Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. A result of an entirely different type of torture. One that does not involve his pain directly, but rather the torment of seeing Morty's treatment, leading to the obvious question: am I next?
Looks like my laboratory animals are healthy and well, I think. They learn each day that progress moves forward and I am certain they take pride in this important time.
I just wish Jerry would clean himself. Ew.