Genetics - Book One : City of New Hope

Genetics - Chapter 2 (Sci-fi/Romance)

It's a little boring and no romance appears yet in these 1st few chapters, but it'll come soon. Next chapter is clearly going to be fighting, so stay tuned to that.

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"All right recruits! Follow me into the armory! Sir Malcolm will do all the explaining in there. Look lively now!"

Powell, the announcer, was the secretary to Sir Malcolm. Sir Malcolm was the one of the 4 leaders of the slums. The slums were divided into 4 sections, North, South, East and West. Each section had its respective leaders, and Sir Malcolm was leader of the south side of the slums. He was also regarded the war leader of the slums, because of his fighting experience as an ex-marine from the city. As Powell led the rag-tag team of youngsters through out of the locker room and into the large hallway leading to the armory of the coliseum.

The coliseum was constructed by the inhabitants of the slums, reminiscent of the once great coliseum of the Roman era. They build it as a place of fights and theater, much like how the original coliseum was used. After the constant threats of the Neire, the coliseum soon evolved into a training ground and soon after, a place of choosing.

Powell stopped in front of the door leading into the armory. "Now listen here. I don't want to say too much, but I wish all of you the best of luck. Sir Malcolm can be a bit strict, but know he wants all of you to succeed, even if he doesn't say or show it." With that he opened the doors and ushered the boys in.

Across the room sitting on a bench was Sir Malcolm. "Welcome, maggots."

He was well built, muscular and big, with all visible fat or flab gone from his body without a trace. People often saw his body and regarded him as a giant tank of meat, strong but immobile. He was the exact opposite. He was very fast and moved with unnatural speed in proportion to his body size. He wore a thick chain mail plate that looked like it could crush another mans body, his pants were leather and torn with holes and patches all over it. He had a sword sheathed in its scabbard and a giant shield, embedded with horns on its sides, hanging on his back.

The sight of him sent chills down the spines of anyone who dared to look. That included the new recruits.

"So...", Sir Malcolm said, as he took a dagger from the wall. "You all know the drill. Just in case you don't, I'm going to explain it to you. Any questions or back talk from anyone and you can expect a knife down your throat. Am I clear?"

Nobody said a word.

"Good. Now, the choosing of guilds will be evaluated from two points of views. Your previous actions and contributions by your own free will to any guild when you were younger, and your results in today's test. Every year we change what the test is, because it would be boring to watch the same thing every year." He slowly paused to scan the group of youngsters before him. "Look around the room, we have everything from guns to swords to shields to mechs to everything else you boys need.What we DON'T have are lasers, sabers, and all those energy weapons from the city. Not very cost effective you get what I mean. Each item is, however, infused with finite. Anyone know what that is?"

"It is an ore, when refined and used to make bullets or swords, will--", everyone looked to see Lawrence pinned against the wall, a dagger stuck to his shirt just above his shoulder.

"First, and last warning." Everyone stood in awe at the power of the throw. Nobody saw it coming.

"You, giant boy." Sir Malcolm addressed Axe. "Help him out. Now the rest of you, as the small boy so rudely interrupted me, finite is an ore. When refined, the ore will form a metal that is anti-sharp. It will not cut through anything, no matter how thin or flimsy. All of the weapons here, including the bullets, are made form that ore. Don't hold back though, it is a lot harder to knock someone out with this stuff then you think. You need enormous force when you swing your sword. As for guns, they've been outfitted with special explosive triggers that will make it hurt all the more when in contact with skin. Courtesy of the Gunner Guild of course."

He took the dagger Axe pulled form the wall when freeing Lawrence, "The rules are simple, it will be a royal rumble. Last man standing will obviously get noticed. Just because you're the last man standing DOES NOT effect your guild enrollment. It just makes you rank higher in the candidate chart." He stopped and pull a piece of parchment from his pants.

"This is the current ranking of all boys here. After the fight commences, rankings will change depending on you're performance. Weapon choice will also effect how guild masters choose you. There will be an audience to cheer you on, as should all fights in the coliseum be. You may be asking, how do we keep track of all 40 of you? We have 80 judges, not including me or the guild leaders and their secretaries, each asked to keep track of everyone on the field and jot down their actions and time of 'death'. Once you go unconscious, you will be considered out unless you can get back on your feet again. The results will be compared from all the judges and a rank list will be made, consisting of how high you rank and which boy goes to what guild."

He put the dagger back and started to walk out. "I'm tired of talking. By the time I finish getting a drink, all of you will have fitted yourself in armor and weapons." He walked out, slamming the door.

Everyone hurried to get their weapons and armor, quickly putting them on, clearly afraid of the earlier threat. "That guys a bitch." Lawrence decided to break the silence with Art and Axe.

"Nobody told you to be the smart ass and explain everything." Axe said, putting on a hard leather vest.

"Well he asked a question." Lawrence replied, checking his mechs controls. Axe similarly checked his armors thickness, "Still, you should've known better than to talk back at someone like that. I couldn't believe how fast and hard he threw that dagger. I mean I didn't even see him move!"

"I did." Both of them looked at Art in surprise. "Oh you did now?" Axe said, teasing him.

"I can't explain it either, but it's like I could see him do it, clearly. Not like just see a blur of movement, but the actual full movement."

"Art, you've been running too much man."

"Now, now, Axe. Only Art has experienced the realm of speed. Maybe his eyes have adjusted to the fast movement of things flying by." Lawrence concluded.

"Whatever it is, the main thing now is that we have to get to the top three." Axe said, smiling to himself. The trio nodded to each other. Art looked at his comrades, bottom to top. Axe was carrying a huge double handed axe, though he thought that Axe would be able to easily swing it one handed. Lawrence was comfortable in his mech, outfitted with a burst fire gun and retractable blade. Art looked at his friends, one confident and striding the room talking to everyone, the other quietly analyzing everyone's choices' in weaponry and armor.

Art looked at his revolver and short blade. He wore a light leather armor on his body and legs. He knew his only ally was his quick movements and agility. His weapon choices reflected that. His revolver, a six shooter. He had speed loader with 6 bullets lodged in it ready to use. Basically he only had 12 shots. He looked around and counted the people in the room. 39 boys, with him that made 40, he thought. He was an accurate shot, above average in fact. The short blade was just to help abuse his speed in close-quarters combat.

Everyone jumped when the doors burst open and Sir Malcolm stood with a mug of water, taking a long sip before saying;

"Alright boys. Time for you to become men."

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