HiveComb

Link

Obsessed over a girlfriend who dumped him on prom night, a mad scientist discovers a way to recreate his love interest from the body parts of others. Through the use of nanotechnology, the scientist reanimates dead tissue and adheres it to a robotic skeletal structure which is controlled by an A.I. that matches the personality of his old flame. Now all he needs are the right body parts. After finding a woman with a feature that resembles his old crush, the scientist murders the woman, severs the body part from the victim, and places it in cold storage. After a few years, the scientist has gathered most of what he needs. All that is left are her eyes. Unfortunately for you, your eyes bear a striking resemblance.

Call it fate, call it what you will, but you find yourself stranded in the city of your birth, forced to attend a class reunion. As you rush to your rendezvous, the skies open up, showering the city with a thunderous downpour. You get to your destination drenched in rain. When you arrive, you are greeted by the media, all seeking a story to tell of your life since high school. Jovial as you are, you go along with it. Time flies when you're passing jokes and laughing. Before you know it, it's time to go. You bid the gossip hounds farewell and step out into the rain. As you step into the car of your assailant, everything seems normal until your eyes spring open and you realize that you have been tricked into a story written by your enraged girlfriend.

As a child, you had a strange fascination with trains. As you grew up, you never lost interest in trains. In fact, you downright excelled at it. Inspired by the stories of Ron Pain and Thomas the Tank Engine, you started your own train business with the first money you ever made. It began with a short line near your house, but over the past week, you managed to garner enough interest and buy enough track to create an inter-city railway. You have now become a millionaire by simply investing what others have deemed inanimate. But you couldn't care less. As you push your ticket through the turnstile, you can't help but smile. You must have made a deal with the gods back then. 'Cause really, it feels like magic.

It was a typical morning in the city. The sun was up, but the traffic in the street was unbearably bad. It was late morning and still no movement in the streets. When you looked outside, you had to blow your nose. The school hallways were empty. You sauntered down the corridor and spotted your best friend. "Hey there," the friend exclaimed, "what's the matter? Sick? You look worse than I feel." "I'm not sick," you responded, "I'm still hazy from last night. We celebrated graduation at the pub, remember?" Now your friend sounded as if he was sick. Not physically sick, but in the head. Instead of responding, he opened the door to the hallway, pushed you out and locked it behind him. As you walked toward the stairs, a chill filled you. It's as if someone was walking on your grave. A student opened the door to the staircase and walked out. You followed. It was a familiar scene. Students talking with teachers. Students talking with friends. Students talking with each other. They all stopped talking and stared at you. As you looked around the crowd, you couldn't find the source of the chill. It was as if someone had wiped out the student body. Among the faces you saw, there was no one that could account for what you were feeling. That is until you spotted the one face in the crowd you never wanted to see again. The face belonged to your old high school girlfriend. Your Aussie. The woman you dated for four years, the woman you lost on prom night.