Deceitful

Introduction : Poison POV

That way, no one would need to find out. Yes. That was it… no one would ever find out… no one…

I am Mercy Poison, and don’t give me that look, or you’ll find poison in your veins faster than you can say Mercy. I mean it. Or maybe you’ll just find your eyeballs on the floor. Whichever I feel like doing, poisoning you or digging your eyes out. It mainly depends on your luck really.

I am the master of poison (or mistress, whatever), as you can actually guess from my name, but, unfortunately for you, I have no mercy whatsoever. That’s why, unless you want to die, never call me by my first name. I hate it, because it is a lie.

I look at the bunch of bodies lying on the floor innocently. I was just using them as guinea pigs really. Nothing much. I ran out of people to test on in the school. The headmaster forbade me testing my new poisons on my schoolmates (as though I really care), but didn’t care much if I did it out of school. Anyway, I’ve already poisoned all the gullible people in the school. There are only the ones that actually study antidotes (although they’ll have a hard job finding one for my newest poison) and the smart ones that are left now.

But I don’t mind. A new term is starting soon. That means I’ll have a hell load of other guinea pigs soon. The new students. But in the meantime, I have to resort to strangers by which killing them have no meaning to me. It makes me feel miserable, killing strangers. There’s no fun. I prefer killing people that I know well. Makes me feel happier, you see.

I check for the pulse of my last guinea pig. Nothing.

I check under the eyelids. Also nothing. No sign that he might have died from poisoning. It was the same result from the rest of them.

I took out a small vial as held it against the sunlight. Yes, I’m poisoning people in broad daylight. The headmaster will be proud.

Talking about my school, in case you retard is thinking why in the world the headmaster would know about my murdering people, I go to a certain school called Deceit High, and in there are loads of other people like me. So the chances of survival are about less than four percent there.

Which is why my parents sent me there, I’m sure. They wanted me killed. Sorry, did I say parents? I meant parent. Anyway, I’m sure she wasn’t happy when I came home for the school holidays three weeks ago without as much as a scratch on me.

Yeah, the people at Deceit High were dangerous, but none of them were really stupid enough to mess with me, because you see, I had made a new poison of mine just before attending the school, and I really didn’t want to test it on my mum, because I needed her alive or I would have to pay for the school fees myself. And so, I had no choice but to test it out on my dear schoolmates. To cut a long story short, I poisoned a total of seventeen people of varying ages within the first forty-eight hours I stepped into the school grounds.

That sort of warned people off, but I can’t really see why. I am just testing out my poisons, which I am fully entitled to! Or I should be.

The headmaster is used to this, I am sure. He didn’t bother at first for one thing. It was only after I killed off about quarter of the school’s population (which took surprisingly long; one term) that he told me not to kill so many just for one type of poison. But I told him I was already trying my best to cut down on the number of guinea pigs I use for each poison, but in this school, new materials and plants and such that cannot be found anywhere else in the world can be found, and I am mixing up more poisons than ever, and I told the headmaster that, but he told me, all the same, to try cut down some more. That barmy old bat.

But by the next term, I have really cut down a lot! Really, I swear. I only killed off a quarter of what was left from the first term! That’s only about sixty! But then the headmaster had to speak to me again, but he was nicer that time, and told me I could go out of the school for two hours every two weeks to test out my poisons, as he told me that he did not mind minor killings (five to ten per term, which was the average of the students) but sixty a term is still too much, and people like me, with special talents, were rare enough without me killing them.

Thus, now, I am fully entitled to kill as many normal people as I want in that four hours per month. With the growing population, Earth would run out of resources soon anyway, so I was actually caring for the environment, you see.

And just to explain a bit about ‘special talents’ I mentioned just now, it meant people who, for example, like me, who can mix poison as well as a brilliant chief can make the simplest of instant noodles, and as another example, vice versa; people who can mix antidotes with ease. They are so troublesome. It was because of them that sixteen of the guinea pigs that I tried to poison on my first and second days survived, or I’d have thirty-three bodies to study for the effects of my poison; a much more trustable number than seventeen. I have been forced since then to mix some fast acting poisons, and I am proud to say that those antidote mixing morons have not been able to save anyone else after my first batch of them were made.

Also, talents may also mean that they have 600/10 accuracy. For your information, that means that these people can throw anything and everything as long as they can lift them and throw them straight at the stark middle of the bull’s-eye. Me? I’m terrible. 10/10. Pathetic, I know. One of the other few people that I haven’t been targeting for guinea pigs are the 600/10 people. I need them to help me with my aim.

And for some barmy reason the headmaster also encourages people with talents such as they can sing or talk or play the piano or violin so that they can put people straight to sleep. I do not know what kind of s***ty talent is that, but I’ve wiped out the whole population of this type of people within my first week. Hark to them, they were the easiest targets.

Mainly, if something is a talent it’s based on the damn, barmy old headmaster, and to him, talents can range from being able to turn your hair into needles (they’re not bad. Haven’t been able to touch them yet, and there are only two) and to ridiculous ones like being able to see the future (future my foot. I wiped out all but one of them within my second day of targeting them and I only let one survive because she was nice, but I’m already pre-targeting her for the new term).

And one more thing, before I forget to tell you. You realize that I used the term parent instead of parents somewhere above, I am sure. I am also sure that you wonder why my mother would want me dead. The answer is very simple really. I made my first poison when I was six, but I didn’t test it until three years ago, when I was ten. I tested it on my dear dad when he pissed me off. It worked perfectly, but maybe my standard had just been raised or something, but now looking back the poison was too slow reacting. It took two minutes and twenty-four seconds for my father to start choking, but he died all the same. Not bad for a poison made when I was six truthfully speaking.

My mom would have sent me to Deceit High on the spot if not for the headmaster not letting anyone younger than twelve entering the school, so she got me in last year, the very minute I turned twelve.

I put the vial back into my pocket, feeling pleased. My newest poison had absolutely nil side effects, making the victims seem as though they died natural deaths. Those antidote idiots won’t be able to make an antidote to this one.

~~Asphodel_Winter~~
Battle between~
Rationality and Surreality~~~~