Stoneheart sat in the room with Felix, both of them were drinking champagne. They both were discussing ways to end the resistance. In the middle of their discussion, the soldier in charge of the raid of the ChFE base entered the room, holding something with one arm and clutching the wound on his side with the other.
“Did you get it?” asked Stoneheart.
“Yes sir,” said the soldier. “The schematics for the superweapon are right here in my hand.”
“At last, what was stolen from me has been returned to it’s rightful owner,” said Stoneheart, a dark smile stretching across his face. Felix raised an eyebrow.
“That’s an awfully painful wound there, soldier,” said Felix. “Who did that?”
“Your stupid excuse of a son, that’s who,” said the soldier. “He was relentless. He killed some of our best guys, including Franklin. I couldn’t believe that he managed to do that.”
“I see,” said Stoneheart. “Go down to the medical wing, and see if they can patch up your wound.”
The soldier nodded and left the room. Felix looked speechless. He never knew that Sean was capable of something so horrifying and violent. He always pictured Sean as the weak and cowardly one.
“It seems your son is capable of much more than we both have anticipated, Felix,” said Stoneheart. “Maybe we should probably plan the next attack more carefully.” There were small traces of fear in his voice.
“Agreed, Jackson,” said Felix. “Although I have a feeling that even careful planning won’t prepare us for what’s coming”
. . . .
The base was quiet. Many of the people were asleep, but some of the nurses and doctors were still awake, keeping an eye on the wounded. Ivan was a bit bruised from his fight with Franklin, but he was recovering well, and resting. Mark, as usual, was watching over Sean as he slept. And Sean was tossing and turning in his sleep. However, Sean was not having a nightmare. He was actually in his own mind, looking around frantically, for laughter could be heard all throughout his mind.
“Who’s there?” asked Sean, looking around, with fear in his voice and on his face. The laughter was replaced by a voice that was sinister, yet familiar.
“You know, for a child called Pureheart,” said the voice. “Even I am surprised that you killed all those soldiers.”
“Show yourself!!” yelled Sean. “I’m warning you, right now! You don’t know what I am capable of!”
“Oh, I know exactly what you are capable of, Sean Pureheart,” said the voice. “For I am the one responsible for your dark thoughts and aggressive behavior. I am the one who wields that sword and takes the life of your enemies. I am your darkness. I am you.”
And then, out of the shadows, walked a young boy who looked almost exactly like Sean. However, some features made him stand out from the original Sean, such as his red eyes, and his body being a dark mist.
“B-but that’s not possible. There is no way that you are me. I don’t have a split personality,” said Sean, desperately trying and failing, to wake up from this nightmare. The dark Sean laughed.
“My dear boy, everybody has a split personality,” he said. “It’s just that some have a harder time controlling it than others do. They are called having, as you people call it, a ‘split personality disorder.’ A stupid name for that, really. It’s more of a stress reliever than a disorder if you really think about it.”
