The blood was running from his head. What have I done wrong, he thought. He put his hand to the gash on his forehead, his hand instantly covered in blood. He heard clicking behind him. Damn, he thought. They were onto him. He thought he had correctly used the nano mites to distract them. He tasted the blood in his mouth now. Apparently he was leaving blood behind him as he ran, rendering the mites useless. If the blood craving, Cytron bugs wanted him he was going to put up a fight. But he knew his back pack was lighter than when he started, and it was dark now. He knew that visual obstacles were useless. He always packed light. All his worldly possessions were kept in his backpack. He heard the clicking of the Cytrons right behind him. But he didn't turn around. He kept running, unzipping his backpack with one hand and pulling out an oblong metal disk. He re-zipped his backpack and knocked on the disk three times, which caused it to open into a hover board. Knowing that he had to do this fast he threw the board in front of him and jumped on it when was close enough.
Tilting it up at a severe angle he stomped on the back and flew above the trees. He was able to take it a bit easier now. The Cytrons were unable to fly and he knew they would report back to their central power. Safe again for this night he looked down onto the board. He sighed, there was blood all over it. It had cost him almost all his money to buy it. He knew it was overpriced but he had to buy it in the black market. He knew they were there to make a profit on the sale. He had reluctantly handed over the money and snuck back into the shadows. He never stayed in one place to long. He lived in constant fear of the Cytrons. He felt himself growing weary of the chase and the lack of blood didn't help. He kept flying until he found one of the back towns.
Back towns were places where outcasts, criminals, and wanted people went to escape the Cytrons. But he was more than wanted. He landed on the ground, knocked on his board three times and it re-collapsed into the small oblong disk. He threw that in his bag. and walked into an inn. He would only be there for one night. No one looked at him twice. He laid some money down on a table and went to an empty room. He took his backpack off and rummaged through it. Looking for something he'd bought a few weeks ago. He found what he was looking for, a vial with a clear lilac purple liquid in it. He rummaged some more looking for a syringe.
He took the syringe and put it into the liquid. Pulling back on the syringe he watching it fill up. Sealing up the vial he pulled his jacket off throwing it on the bed. He closed his eyes and jabbed the syringe into his arm. He pushed the liquid into his arm. He pulled the needle out and threw it into his bag. He'd clean it later. He felt the liquid immediately go throughout his body. He put his hand up to his forehead. Good, the bleeding stopped. The liquid had helped quell the bleeding. There was a bathroom connected to his bedroom. He opened the door to it. He needed to shower. Blood had covered his entire face, had dried in his hair, and was all over his hands and neck. He took his clothes off and threw them on the floor. He got into the shower and turned on the water. He let the hot water run over his face. He looked down and saw his blood running down the drain.
He pushed a button on the wall that administered soap to wash his hair. He needed to cut it, it was too long creating a hazard to his life. He pushed the button again getting more soap. He washed his body, doing his best to get the blood off him. He rinsed himself off and turned off the water. He grabbed a towel and dried himself off. Slipping back into his blood stained clothes he pulled his knife out of his pocket and proceeded to hack at his hair. He didn't care how he looked, his life wasn't based around picking up women. His life was survival. He took another vial of green acid from his pocket and put the hair he cut off in it. He shook the vial to activate it. The hair dissolved immediately. Unfortunately, he used up the last of the liquid too.
"Damn," he muttered. He need more supplies and the nearest black market was ten cities away. Cities were the most dangerous to travel in. Cytrons were everywhere in cities, he always traveled by back roads. Taking him three times longer to travel. He needed to get the supplies to cover his tracks. He'd spent years of his life running and he knew how to cover up his existence. He left the bathroom. Stepping into the room with the bed. He sat down on it, he had forgotten about his backpack. He searched the room for it. He sighed with relief, the bag was leaning on the wall. He walked over and picked it up. He felt a sudden wave of nausea and sleep. Good, he thought. He knew that these were the side effects of the purple liquid he injected earlier. Besides clotting the blood of a cut it had three things, the ability to induce nausea, sleep, and was laced with mites that helped repair tissue damage.