THE DEATH MIND SYSTEM

Getting Rid Of The System

Elliot hardly slept. The strange hum from the Death Mind System stayed in his head, reminding him that something alien had taken over him. He lay in bed, staring at the cracked ceiling, unable to stop thinking about what happened last night: Tanner falling to the ground, the system's cold voice, and Mia's worried face at his door. By 6 a.m., he gave up trying to sleep. He sat at his desk, hands shaking as he sipped cold coffee, his laptop open but untouched.

The campus was a mess. His phone wouldn’t stop buzzing with messages and posts. Everyone was talking about the same thing: "Tanner Holt, the popular athlete and social media star, was dead at nineteen." The school said it was a “sudden heart problem,” but rumors were everywhere; some said drugs, others said it was something more sinister. No one mentioned Elliot’s name, but he couldn’t stop worrying. Bryce and Dylan had seen him in the alley. They knew he was there when it happened.

He opened his laptop, half-hoping to distract himself with his quantum mechanics essay, but the words blurred together. Instead, he found himself typing Tanner’s name into a search engine. Posts flooded the results: tributes, shocked emojis, and clips of Tanner’s highlights from last season’s football games. But one post, buried in a campus forum, caught his eye: “Anyone else think it’s weird how fast they ruled it a heart attack? No autopsy yet. Sketchy.”

Elliot’s stomach twisted. He closed the tab, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. The system’s voice hadn’t spoken since Mia left, but he could still feel it, a cold pulse at the back of his mind, like a predator waiting to pounce. He needed answers. What was this thing? Why him? And what did it mean by “upgrades”?

“Okay,” he muttered, glancing around his empty room as if the system might manifest physically. “You’re still there, right? Talk to me. What’s a Memory Scan? What do you want from me?”

The response was immediate, the voice as crisp and mechanical as before, but with a faint undertone of eagerness. "QUERY RECEIVED. MEMORY SCAN: PASSIVE PROTOCOL.

ALLOWS HOST TO ACCESS RESIDUAL NEURAL IMPRINTS OF TERMINATED TARGETS.

CURRENT CAPACITY: ONE MEMORY FRAGMENT PER TERMINATION.

UPGRADE TO LEVEL 2 REQUIRED FOR ENHANCED ACCESS."

Elliot frowned, leaning back in his chair. “Residual neural imprints? You mean… I can see their memories?”

"AFFIRMATIVE," the system responded. "MEMORY SCAN ACTIVATED DURING TERMINATION OF TANNER MICHAEL HOLT.

FRAGMENT ACCESSED: VISUAL IMPRINT OF MIA ELIZABETH CARVER.

EMOTIONAL CONTEXT: GUILT.

RECOMMENDATION: TERMINATE ADDITIONAL TARGETS TO UNLOCK LEVEL 2 PROTOCOLS."

“No,” Elliot snapped, his voice louder than he intended. He glanced at the door, half-expecting someone to knock, but the hallway was silent. “I’m not killing anyone else. I didn’t even mean to kill Tanner. This is… insane.”

"HOST RESISTANCE NOTED," the system said. "SYSTEM PURPOSE: ENHANCE HOST DOMINANCE THROUGH TERMINATION PROTOCOLS.

REFUSAL TO ENGAGE LIMITS POTENTIAL.

WARNING: PROLONGED INACTIVITY MAY TRIGGER SYSTEM OVERRIDE."

Elliot’s blood ran cold. “Override? What does that mean?”

The system's response came almost immediately: "DATA RESTRICTED UNTIL LEVEL 3.

RECOMMENDATION: IDENTIFY NEXT TARGET."

Eliot stood, pacing the small room, his hands tugging at his hair. The system could override him? What did that mean? Could it force him to kill? The thought made his skin crawl, but the memory of Tanner’s death lingered, sharp and vivid. The power had felt… good. Not the act itself, but the aftermath; the strength, the clarity, the sense that, for once, he wasn’t the victim. He hated himself for even thinking it.

A sharp knock at the door startled him. He froze, his heart racing. “Who is it?”

“It’s Bryce," a voice from outside responded, and Eliot's eys widened with shock. The voice was rough, edged with something Elliot couldn’t place; anger, maybe, or fear.

Elliot hesitated. Bryce had been there last night, throwing punches alongside Tanner. Why was he here? Had he figured something out? Elliot’s eyes darted to his desk, half-expecting the system to offer some cryptic advice, but it stayed silent. He took a deep breath and opened the door a crack.

Bryce stood in the hallway, his usual cocky grin replaced by a tense expression. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair disheveled. “We need to talk,” he said, pushing past Elliot without waiting for an invite.

Elliot closed the door, his pulse hammering. “What’s this about?”

Bryce paced the small room, his sneakers squeaking on the linoleum. “Tanner’s dead, man. You were there. In the alley. You saw what happened.”

Elliot’s throat tightened. “I… I don’t know what happened. He just... collapsed.”

“Bullshit,” Bryce snapped, spinning to face him. “You were right there, Scarecrow. You didn’t even try to help. You just ran.” His voice cracked, and Elliot realized what he was hearing wasn’t just anger... It was grief. “Dylan’s freaking out, saying it’s our fault, that we pushed him too hard or something. But I saw you. You looked… weird. Like you knew something.”

Elliot’s mind raced. The system hummed faintly, a subtle pressure in his skull, as if it were listening. Bryce’s accusation hung in the air, and Elliot felt the weight of his own guilt pressing down. He hadn’t meant to kill Tanner, but he had. And now Bryce was here, inches away, his name already known to the system. "Bryce Allen Carter." The thought came unbidden, and the system stirred, its voice cold and precise.

"NAME ACQUIRED: BRYCE ALLEN CARTER.

PROTOCOL AVAILABLE: TERMINATE.

WHISPER THE COMMAND."

Elliot’s breath hitched. He shook his head, trying to push the voice away, but it was like trying to ignore a heartbeat. Bryce was still talking, his voice rising, oblivious to the danger.

“You’re hiding something, aren’t you?” Bryce stepped closer, his finger jabbing toward Elliot’s chest. “I don’t know what went down, but if you had anything to do with it...”

“I didn’t!” Elliot cut him off, his voice sharper than he intended. He backed away, his hands raised, trying to de-escalate. “I was just… there, okay? I didn’t do anything.”

Bryce’s eyes narrowed, searching Elliot’s face. For a moment, it looked like he might back off, but then his expression hardened. “You’re lying. I know you are. And if I find out you had something to do with Tanner, I swear—”

"TERMINATE TARGET NOW," the system's voice echoed in Eliot's hesd. "PROTOCOL EFFICIENCY: 100%. HOST SAFETY ENSURED."

The system’s voice was louder this time, almost insistent. His hands trembled, and he clenched them into fists, fighting the urge to speak. He could end this right now. One whisper, and Bryce would be gone, just like Tanner. No more threats, no more accusations. The temptation was a living thing, curling around his thoughts like smoke.

But he couldn’t. Not again. Not like this.

“Get out,” Elliot said, his voice low but steady. “I don’t know what you think happened, but I didn’t do anything. Just… leave me alone.”

Bryce stared at him, his jaw tight, then let out a harsh laugh. “Yeah, whatever, Scarecrow. But I’m watching you.” He turned and yanked the door open, slamming it behind him as he stormed out.

Elliot exhaled, his knees buckling as he sank onto the bed. The system’s hum faded, but its presence lingered, a cold weight in his mind. He’d resisted, but it had been close; too close. The ease with which the system offered death terrified him. And yet, a part of him, the part that had burned under Tanner’s fists and Bryce’s taunts, wondered what it would feel like to let go. To embrace it.

His phone buzzed again, pulling him out of his thoughts. Another campus alert: "Crestwood University will hold a memorial vigil for Tanner Holt tonight at 8 p.m. in the quad. Counseling services are available for students." Elliot’s stomach churned. A vigil. People would be there; Bryce, Dylan, Mia, maybe others who’d seen him leave the library. He couldn’t go. He couldn’t face them, not with the system whispering in his head.

But staying here, alone with his thoughts, wasn’t an option either. He needed answers, and the system wasn’t giving them. Not yet. He grabbed his hoodie and backpack, slipping out of the dorm before he could second-guess himself.

The library was his best bet because it was quiet, empty, and full of resources. If the system was “extraterrestrial,” maybe he could find something, anything, to explain it. A scientific paper, a conspiracy theory, even a sci-fi novel that might spark an idea. It was a long shot, but it was better than waiting for the system to “override” him.

The campus was buzzing as he crossed the quad, students huddled in groups, their voices low but urgent. He kept his head down, avoiding eye contact, the bruise on his jaw throbbing under the scrutiny of passing glances. The library loomed ahead, its glass doors reflecting the gray morning sky. Inside, the air was cool and quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos outside. Elliot headed straight for the computer lab, settling into a corner station where he could work unnoticed.

He started with broad searches like “alien neural constructs,” “temporal rifts,” “mind control technology”, but the results were a mix of academic jargon and tinfoil-hat rants. Nothing concrete. Nothing that explained the voice in his head or the power to kill with a thought. He leaned back, rubbing his temples, when the system HUD flickered to life, unprompted.

"QUERY DETECTED. HOST SEEKS ORIGIN DATA.

LIMITED ACCESS GRANTED:

ENTITY DESIGNATION: ANNIHILATOR.

PURPOSE: ERADICATION OF SENTIENT POPULATIONS FOR RESOURCE HARVESTING.

SYSTEM REMNANT DESIGNED FOR HOST INTEGRATION.

CURRENT HOST: ELLIOT KANE.

COMPATIBILITY: 87%.

RECOMMENDATION: TERMINATE TO INCREASE COMPATIBILITY AND UNLOCK RESTRICTED DATA."

Elliot’s heart skipped a beat. “Eradication of sentient populations?” he whispered, glancing around to ensure no one was close enough to hear. “You’re saying you’re… what, a weapon? From some alien genocide machine? Designed to kill humans?”

"AFFIRMATIVE," the system responded. "SYSTEM IS A FRAGMENT OF ANNIHILATOR CORE. HOST INTEGRATION ALLOWS LOCALIZED TERMINATION PROTOCOLS. FURTHER DATA RESTRICTED UNTIL LEVEL 5."

“Stop saying that!” Elliot hissed, his voice barely audible. “I’m not killing anyone else. I want you out of my head.”

The system replied affirmatively: "SYSTEM REMOVAL NOT POSSIBLE. HOST TERMINATION REQUIRED TO SEVER BOND. WARNING: OVERRIDE PROTOCOLS MAY ENGAGE IF HOST RESISTANCE PERSISTS."

Elliot’s hands went cold. Termination. Did it mean killing him? Or forcing him to kill others? Before he could ask, a shadow fell over his desk. He looked up to find Mia standing there, her arms crossed, her expression a mix of concern and suspicion.

“Elliot,” she said, her voice low. “You’re acting weird. First last night, now this. What’s going on?”

The system buzzed in his head, its voice slicing through his thoughts. “NAME ACQUIRED: MIA ELIZABETH CARVER. PROTOCOL AVAILABLE: TERMINATE. WHISPER THE COMMAND.”

Elliot’s mouth went dry. He looked at Mia, her brown eyes full of concern, and felt the system’s hunger pressing into his mind like a knife. He had to leave. Now. Before he hurt her. Before he lost control.

“I’m fine,” he lied, grabbing his backpack and standing up quickly. “Just… dealing with some stuff. I need to go.”

He walked past her without looking back, ignoring her calling his name, and rushed out of the library.

"I need to find a way to get rid of this god-damned system before it's too late," he muttered as he stepped out of the library, determined to find a solution to the alien entity inside him.