[Election ‘016 068] If You Bern It, Does It Not Bleed?

[Election ‘016 068] If You Bern It, Does It Not Bleed?

Hillary Clinton sat an ornately carved wooden desk, resting her face in her palms. The trials had been going on for what seemed like a lifetime. Had it been 6 months? A year? The days were getting hard to count, probably because the only sleep she got was when she collapsed, too exhausted to hold her head up. He was persistent, but she wasn’t prepared to give up. He would not break her.

A yellow light on the wall clicked on. Hillary cleared her throat and pressed down the red button on the intercom in front of her.

“Commence to the next stage,” she said.

A slight pause before a static filled voice came through the speaker in reply. “Yes ma’am,” the voice said. “Switch to monitor three if you wish to observe.”

Hillary grabbed the remote from the desk in front of her and pressed the power button. The array of screens that lined the wall flickered to life with a quick whoosh of static before an image faded into focus. The monitors showed a sterile looking white room with unadorned tile wrapping around the room. It was empty and featureless except for some sort of pinkish mass, a wriggling puddle of flesh no larger than a couple of feet wide at the center of the room., surrounded by a ring of broken tile, the same that covered the rest of the room except scorched black. The thing in the middle of the room beat like an exposed heart.

“Trial number 762, blunt trauma, test 6,” the voice said through the intercom.

Three men in hazmat suits walked into the frame, each carrying a sledgehammer. They stopped 10 feet away from the thing before the man in the middle nodded at the others. Each took a side around the mass and swung their hammers down in tandem, but the hammers sunk into the thing with almost no reaction, just a dull thud and a grunt of disapproval. They swung their hammers for a minute, but every blow was absorbed no matter how hard they hit it. The mass kept beating at its same deliberate pace.

One of the men dropped his hammer to the floor and walked away.

“Nothing’s happening, ma’am,” the voice crackled over the intercom again. “What do you advise?”

“Commence to the next stage,” she said calmly.

“Right away, ma’am. Suspending blunt force trauma tests. Initiate trial number 763, acid burn, test 1.”

Hillary pressed a button on the remote and the monitors snapped to a different view, now showing a massive blast door about 20 feet tall and running the length of the wall. A red light began to flash above the door. With a hydraulic hiss, the door slowly opened. A large vehicle with a large cylindrical tank backed into the room, stopping a few feet from the thing in the middle of the room. Two of the men grabbed their equipment and left the room, the blast door closing behind them. The remaining man climbed on top of the vehicle and, after the door locked closed, looked directly at the camera.

“Go ahead,” Hillary said.

The man gave a thumbs up. He pulled a lever on the tank and a stream of acid gushed out, washing over the mass. The sound of searing flesh and muffled screams burst through the speaker, but Hillary didn’t turn it off. She listened, waiting for the screams to stop. This had to be the end. But when the tank emptied and the room drained, the acid scorched mass of flesh still moved.

The voice came through the intercom again. “There are some chemical burns on it, but they’re healing faster than the acid can eat through. We can send up some data to-”

“No, stop all testing immediately. I’m coming down.”

Hillary turned off the monitors, walked to the door, and exited the office. She stormed down the hallway, swatting away one of the hazmat clad workers who tried to hand her a report on the previous tests. She reached the massive blast door from the monitor and entered a smaller reinforced door next to it, slamming it behind her.

“You,” she said, approaching the blob. “Why won’t you die?!”

The mass drew in a breath and deflated, letting out a sickly wheeze.

“I haven’t slept in days because of you. I can’t have a single thought clear of you. No matter what I do, I just… I can’t go on knowing you’re still there,” she said. “All you do is… is just sit there, but you hang over my head like a…”

“Innnnnnnnnnnnn…” it croaked.

“You can’t win this and you know it! Leave me the hell alone!”

“Innnnn iiiiit… unnnnnnntil… the convennnnnnntion…”

“So be it, Sanders.”

Hillary exited the room. She snapped at her nearest underling, calling them over.

“Yes, ma’am?” the underling stammered, giving her a shaky salute.

“Commence testing. Increase the pace. We will not rest until we find a way to kill this thing.”

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