It was the perfect fall night, complete with crisp, cold air and the soft rustle of fallen leaves in the breeze. Changjo put his hands inside the pockets of his jacket and walked a little bit faster. Sure, the weather was nice, but walking on the streets this late always made him a little on edge. He looked up as the streetlight above him flickered slightly, his hood falling back off of his head. A chill ran it's way down his spine, urging him to walk faster. He had the feeling that someone was watching him, and the back of his neck was wet with cold sweat. He couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right.

And then it hit him. Literally hit him, knocking him sideways into the alleyway on his right. He gasped, the wind knocked out of him, and tried to locate his attacker. As soon as he looked up, the streetlight died completely, leaving him in near total blackness. Blinking, Changjo tried to get his eyes to adjust to the dark as he pulled himself to his feet. He stood shakily and looked around. A fist collided with his stomach and he dropped to his knees, coughing. 

"What do you want? My wallet? Here, take it, there's nothing in it!" he yelled, grabbing a billfold out of his back pocket and tossing it on the ground in front of him. Before he could even try to stand, something hit him with rib-cracking force and knocked him onto his side, sending him sliding across the gritty pavement. Changjo blearily lifted a hand to his cheek and felt something damp. The pain in chest was excruciating, and he gritted his teeth, trying to breathe without making it worse. Then, rough hands lifted him up off the ground and slammed him against the brick wall of whatever building made up the right side of the alley.

"Ow," he groaned weakly, his vision blurring at the corners.

"You'll do just fine," said a low, gruff voice, "now just close your eyes and this won't hurt a bit." Changjo didn't need to be told to close his eyes; they had already slid shut as he tried to fight the aching in his side and breathe. Suddenly, his eyes burst open as a new pain took hold of him. A burning sensation that started in his neck was slowly beginning to spread throughout his body. Terror seized him and he tried to push his attacker off.

"What the hell are you doing?" he shouted, pushing on the man's chest with what little power he had left in his arms. The man snatched his wrists and snapped them back, and Changjo cried out. His neck felt like it was on fire, his vision was turning black, and his wrists felt like they were about to break. Out of options, he screamed one last time before losing consciousness. 

xxx

Changjo was only vaguely aware of what happened after that. Several times, he awoke to a room made entirely out of concrete, on his knees, something digging into his wrists and ankles, the smell of something sharp and metallic filling the air. Each time he regained consciousness, he noticed something new. A drain on the floor, ringed by a dark red stain. A bandage on his arm. Chains on his arms and legs attached to the walls and floor, holding him in place. He could only remain awake for a few minutes before he fell back into blackness. He had no idea how many days had passed, where he was, or what was going on. He didn't have much time to ponder it, anyway.

The day he finally regained consciousness he wished he hadn't.

His eyes opened slowly, adjusting quickly to the dim florescent light of the room he had almost grown used to. He adjusted his wrists uncomfortably, the metal digging into his skin. Then, he felt something drip from his mouth down do his chin. He looked down. As soon as he did, he regretted it. Laying before him was a little girl. Her body was limp, her arm twisted unnaturally underneath her. Changjo reared back, trying to get away, but he couldn't stand. There was blood on her neck, dribbling down and making a small pool beneath her head. He blinked, trying to clear the image out of his mind. It had to be a dream. But when he looked down at her, he knew it wasn't. She was too real, with her long black hair pulled into two braids, wearing a pale pink dress with white frills around the hem and sleeves that was stained here and there with blood. She couldn't have been older than six or seven years old. She was dead. Changjo didn't know how or why or what it meant, but all he wanted to do was get out of these chains, out of this room, and out of this nightmare. Then, he looked at his hands. A scream slowly bubbled up from his chest and burst out of his mouth as he saw at the blood dripping from his fingers. He his lips and tasted blood. He gagged and screamed again, and behind him there was the creak of a door opening. 

"So you've finally woken up," said a voice, smooth and low. Changjo whipped around, trying to see behind him, but the cuffs around his wrists dug in painfully. "It's no use, struggling like that. You'll just hurt yourself. There's no need for it, you'll be let go soon. But first, I suppose I should explain to you what's going on." The owner of the voice, a tall, thin man with dark eyes and long hair, stood in front of Changjo and observed him with mild amusement. "You're probably wondering what happened to this girl here. Well, the answer is simple. You killed her. all the blood right out of her, just like you did to every other human brought before you the past six days. Don't worry, it's necessary. It's your job. It's why you're here. It's why you've become what you are." His voice was completely calm, as if he were telling Changjo why the sky was blue or the grass was green, not why he had apparently drank the blood of this little girl like a vampire or some monster and killed her. The man leaned down to crouch before the girl's body, looking Changjo straight in the eye. 

"W-wh-what am I, then?" he asked, trying as hard as he could to stay calm and not to scream or retch or faint. He knew that he shouldn't take this man's word or trust him, but somehow he sensed he was telling the truth. He could feel it; he could almost remember the things that the man described. That feeling filled him with horror.

"You are a System now. You are something better than a human, better than any other creature to walk this Earth. You have been made for a very special purpose. You are a part of Project V, the enterprise that will save this clogged and crowded world from destroying itself. You have been injected with the blood of a fellow System, a System who drank your blood when you were still a human and therefore had the ability to pass the Virus on to you." The man smiled and gestured to the bandage on Changjo's arm.

"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about," Changjo said, his voice dry and cracked. He was remotely aware that his hands were shaking.

"Of course you don't! Project V is still a highly classified endeavour! Can you imagine if the whole world knew that we were creating super-human Systems to devour and control the population? Why, they'd panic! They'd fear for their meaningless little lives and demand that all of our kind be killed. Then they would continue on to destroy this planet and choke all the life out of it by multiplying until it couldn't support their numbers. That's what Project V is all about; we must stop overpopulation in it's tracks, decrease the number of humans on this planet, and save it for future generations."

"And you say we do that...by killing?" Changjo asked.

"Yes. For that is the only way. You'll see eventually. In the meantime," the man said, standing and reaching into his pocket, "you'll be staying here at headquarters. I know you must be confused now, but soon it will all make sense." He pulled out a large key and stepped towards Changjo, over the body of the dead girl, and unlocked the chains around his wrists. Changjo's arms went limp, dangling uselessly by his sides, and the world went black once again.