Stagnant

achilles/archer

"He fell like a star out of the sky,

a corpse into hell."

Once again, he was running through the barren field of burning flames and infernos. The smoke formed a cloud around his head that seemed to do two things—confuse his mind and suffocate his every breath, forcing him to breathe as deeply as he could, utilising every last of his might.

But he was unstoppable.

There were the child-like shrieks coming from adults around him. From every direction. North. South. East. West. One would think that he was going crazy, that he was slipping from his weak grasp of reality. But of course, he wasn't. They were merely mistaken.

"The war has begun. Pack up. Evacuate as soon as possible." He could hear the announcement on the City's evacuation speakers, in the distance amongst the once busy streets and roads. The more he crossed the field and neared his destination, the louder the announcement became.

"Evacuate. Pack up. Leave. Evacuate! The war has begun!" The speakers seemed to scream—blending in with the ominous shrieks. The towering skyscrapers that once stood glorious and majestic, lining the skyline of the city of Gytha, now were cowards, weak and retreating into the ground. As if waiting for death to come and swoop down and save them.

That wasn't going to happen to him, though. As much as the smoke caused his eyes to water, and forced him to choke repeatedly on his strained breaths, nothing could stop him. He was born—made by the very great scientists that carved him, bred him cell-by-cell from the infallible instructions in their laboratories. He stood a chance, unlike many others.

He was practically immortal. Unfazed by anything. He would suffer in this war, as his father—scientist Rector Hale once reminded him—but he would not die. If he managed to conceal his secret, that was. A secret birthed by a mistake.

Like they said, you are only as strong as your weakest link.

But what if people couldn't see your weakest link? Then that link would merely not exist, perhaps? And thus, he had to keep his secret safe for his own wellbeing. For his own safety.

Oh, because if they found out...

There was another explosion that rocked the ground like a mother rocking a baby's cradle. The power of anger and bitter hatred radiated from it like heat.

When he reached the annihilated, unrecognisable streets that he once called home, he felt a pang of sadness in his chest. He moved stealthily between overturned, flaming cars and bare bones of the once lively city.

What happens when your home is destroyed? Where do you truly belong? Where do your loyalties lie?

If the city were to drown in the flames, who was he answering to? His maker, his father, Rector, had already disintegrated into dust. Without a piece of information or instruction in his wake. Archer knew that this was the first time he felt truly lost and aimless, like a lost sheep.

Archer knew there was one way—the only way that could possibly save his life.

He reached the foot of the State Tower, which was one of the only buildings that remained standing like concrete ghosts in the city. He put his hands on one of the cracks on the side and hauled himself upwards, scaling the building. It was an edifice shooting up like hands reaching out into the sky from the dying Earth. It tried to touch the sun, which was shielded behind a large blanket of fog and cloud. Every year, the government would add an extra level to it. Every year he'd seen a new level added. And currently, he'd seen seventeen levels added.