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The man stood before me, cowering behind a barrel.

I didn't care.

I tore him limb from limb, his screams echoing through the forest.

Nobody heard.

I consumed the mangled corpse, not letting any scrap find its way under a rock or log.

I then walk back to the steel cube they hold me in, knowing that many sleepless nights would be spent in it.

They call us by numbers.

Like 173.

Or 106.

I have heard what they call me.

I have heard that I will die soon.

I have heard that I am terrifying.

Finally, they speak my name in fear.

They call me 096.