The Master ~ Wanderer [WIP]

To many, the boy appeared to be as any other child in the Capitol. Happy, content, and blind to the horrors presented to him. He went about his life, growing and learning like all the other children and never once calling much attention to himself. He was normal, he was liked and he was wanted. However joy can never last forever. Eventually the truth will be exposed and lives will be ruined. What was once an innocent soul has become something else. Something tragic. Something evil.

Change is usually a gradual succession in people's lives. They slowly grow taller or wider. They become nicer, or crueler- whatever the change it is over a long span of time so that when the person finally realizes they're different it is already far too late.

For The Master the switch to this new mindset happened all too fast. That's what made it take a turn for the worst- too much truth can be a horrid thing. A shy but talented boy, he was always overshadowed by bigger grander things like detectives and doctors. Still, he was an upstanding citizen. A truly valued member of society. He went through school, went through training and even joined a special ops group. Only he was it in it too. As much as The Master despised the shadow he lived under, he couldn't help but fall back into his perfect citizen position. Always doing his duty no matter what the conditions.

There's only so much a single man can handle before he boils over. A special military group is together at all hours and the truth they were exposed to... the tasks they were assigned. They were very different from the bubble gum Capitol he had grown up in. His superiors saw the boy's struggles and strengths and plucked him from the group and locked him into four white walls where men in white coats asked him questions and hit hammers against his knees. Only it didn't stop there. They hooked him up to machines, they forced him to run miles. They injected candy colored fluids into his veins. They hissed things into his ears. Orders. A mission. That's when it started. The noise was a mere tapping at first, but it grew into a light knocking then louder and louder like there were drums exploding in his temples. The white coats told him that it was a side effect of all the chemicals they were pumping his body with. They would cure him of it. They promised. They lied.

The women and men who prodded him and stabbed him with needles for months did not free him of the constant pounding in his head. Instead they suited him in strange, plain clothes, slid a pack with of supplies and various weapons inside of it onto his shoulders and gave him his purpose.

"Find the Detective and kill him."

While he was like every child when they are young, as the boy grew older he grew more and more distant. Prone to jealously and fits of rage, his temper was renown. Always feeling the need to prove himself, yet falling short in light of better contestants. His main competition was The Detective. No matter how good a kid acts and how closely he follows the rules, there will always be some smart ass who breaks all the guidelines and ends up being favored for it. That alone is enough to drive someone mad.

After all, the man had a lot to offer. He was clever, loyal to a cause once joining it and ambitious. The word most of his teachers and higher ups pinned to him was determined. So what the hell is wrong about wanting something? What's so bad about working to get what you desire? The line is suddenly smudged when what you want somebody already has, or worse- what you want is somebody.