Order and Chaos

tails!

DECISIVE VOTE: TAILS

It was such a simple, almost arbitrary decision. And yet, it caused me an inexplicable degree of agony. For a few fleeting moments, I was myself, and I was the mice whose fate rested in my hand, faced with the decision of whether to condemn or spare myselves.

This was a decision I had made before, not long ago. Then, it had seemed so simple. Of course I would destroy my other self. It was all I needed to be whole.

But now I had done it, and I was still not whole. I was not even sure who I was any more. Mary? Malcolm? A mouse? Somehow, none of those answers seemed correct, even as none of them seemed wrong.

The debate raged on in my mind for what seemed like an eternity, and yet, it was resolved in an instant. I sliced off the tails, and the mice scurried off, free to face whatever fate awaited them. For all I knew, they were running straight towards a blind and hungry cat.

The moment was liberating. I was not a mouse, nor three. Indeed, as the memories of the mice left me, it was clearer than ever who I was.

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OUTFIT: None.
GENDER: None.
LAST NAME: None.
AGE: 0.
HAIRSTYLE: None.
HAIR COLOR: None.
EYE COLOR: None.
SKIN COLOR: None.
FAVORITE COLOR: None.
HEIGHT: 0.
BUILD: None.
MONEY: None.
SHOETYPE: None.
NOSESHAPE: None.
FACIAL HAIR: None.
BODY HAIR: None.
EYEBROWS: None.
RASHES: None.
SCARS: None.
DISFIGUREMENTS: None.
GENETIC DISEASES: None.
REGULAR DISEASES: None.
FINGERNAILS: None.
TOENAILS: None.
CAN BENCH: 0.
LIPSTICK: None.
FIRST NAME: None.

I was nobody. An embodiment of nonexistence, except that implied a physical presence I didn't truly have.

The identities I thought I possessed were merely stolen goods, taken from the living creatures I had killed. I had never been Mary, or Malcolm; I had killed both of them, and could not distinguish their memories from each other, or from any of my other victims.

It had been the same with the mice. I was moments away from killing them, and could not distinguish them from myself, nor could they distinguish themselves from me. This confusing state of existence had only lasted until I spared them. Had I killed them, no doubt I would have deepened my own identity crisis.

How many sets of jumbled memories made up my existence now? I could no longer tell.

But one fact had become clear. My employers had used me. They told me I would be myself once I killed... Malcolm? But now, I knew there was no "self" for me to be. As far as they were concerned, I had outlived my usefulness - if I could truly be said to be "alive".

And I had no doubt that they would never have tried to deal with a non-being like me if they did not have some way to dispose of me once I had served my purpose.

It was just as that realization struck that I caught a small glimpse of something moving out of the corner of my remaining eye, and I knew I was in trouble.

---

It had spotted me. I'd been too careless.

In theory, I was safe behind my mask. The not-a-thing couldn't become me if it didn't know who I was. At least, that's what the higher-ups had said. Of course, even if I knew for sure that was true, well, it could still kill me.

Sure, that was less of a problem for us than for most of its victims, but still. I'd died before. It hurt. And I'd prefer not to go through it again.

My only hope at catching it was to make my move before it could. Of course, that meant I didn't have a lot of time to think about what that move was going to be.

So, with no better ideas presenting themselves, I...