The Experiments: Extraordinary

Chapter 4: Andrew

Chapter Four: Andrew

"Jet, come on. Colt is calling me. He wants more time." I tell him.

"No. You already gave him the weekend to bring her here. He didn't do it so it's our turn. We'll more like you're turn. And Drew, don't be so... so careless tonight. Just explain to her very slowly and bring her here." Jet says to me. I guess I'm carless in his eyes. He's has these dark brown eyes that practically pierce though your soul when he knows you're hiding something. It actually can be quite scary at times especially because he is enormous compared to most twenty year olds. His built up and tall body makes me look like a stick and I don't want to brag but I'm pretty proud of my biceps and abs.

Since I'm describing the muscle man, I'd like to add a bit about his personality. He's very logical which I don't understand because he can probably jump off a twenty story building and walk home with only a few scratches. You see, Jet is what we call a gifted. So am I but that's beyond the point. Here at the Sanctum, or hideaway, we have names for about every genetic mutation that we have discovered in one another. I'm sure the real scientists have some high vocabulary names for us but to me, we'll always be Extras. Being gifted means that the person carries more than one skill. Jet is a medic and a runner.

"Alright, okay."

"What's the girl's name again?"

"Maia Stone." I tell Jet. I just got finished telling him about the girl because it is Monday afternoon. Colton didn't come through in telling that Maia girl about her abilities, which I didn't think he would. I head towards my room to get ready for tonight. Finding new Extras is a job for the savvies because they're smart. Bringing them back here? Well that's a runner's job. I happen to fit in that category. Actually, I fit into all the categories.

I'm what Colton likes to call, an abomination. I don't understand the name because I feel that I'm just the opposite of an "abomination". When I told him that the first day I met him, the genius explained to me that I contain all abilities that he knows of but they're balanced out unevenly. I guess the best way to describe me is as a jacked-up gifted. I'm all three, a medic, a savvy and a runner but my runner skills are obviously my best. I don't get how I'm a savvy because I'm not Mr. Einstein but I've got the other skills of telepathy and telekinesis. And as for being a medic, well I didn't know that until I got jumped and stabbed nearly to death by some gang members and didn't die. I remember laying there with my head against the brick ally wall, biting on the fabric of my shirt so I wouldn't scream. I was thirteen then. At the time it was just Jet and I roaming the streets of New York day after day, always hoping to find a vacant building or subway station to sleep it. My blood was splattered everywhere, my mind turned into a rain cloud and I ended up passing out from so much blood loss. I woke up two days later on a old mattress with Jet's worried brown eyes staring down at me. The stab wound was just a big scar across my lower stomach. I obviously don't heal as fast as the medics that I know. If Sapphira would have gotten the same wound she would of healed within a few hours.

I exchange my sweats and white T-shirt for a pair of khaki styled skinny jeans and a salmon colored button up. Hey, if I'm going to get that girl in Manhattan I better look the part even if it means dressing like some wimp. I roll up the sleeves and unbutton the two top buttons, miserable failing to look a little less nerdy and annoying. I style my dark brown hair the way Colton's is. Jelled up and to the side.

This place that we've been staying in for the past four years used to be a residential hall for some college that was destroyed during The First Revolt. This whole poverty thing began about forty years ago when the government started going all anti-free country on us. They favored the wealthy and the lower classes go thrown to the curb. Health care for people who couldn't afford it began to reduce quickly and taxes was raised incredibly. The lower classes were pissed and they organized a national riot. Banks were smashed, building were set on fire, wealthier neighborhoods were trashed and more. At the time, anyone with a brain thought the rioters were going to win. But they were wrong. The US government fought back by destroying everything that the lower classes cared about. Entire cities were bombed, killing thousands of people. Schools were set on fire, like this college that I currently live in. People here in the streets call that three day battle, The First Revolt because they have hope that there will be a second one. I've heard the people in the big cities just call it The Revolt. They don't think we have what it takes to fight again. But they're wrong. I have a feeling we are going to fight, and when we do, I'll be their the pull the trigger on anyone that comes in my way. Dark, yes I know. But when one lives in the streets as an orphan for more than half of his life, a dark pit builds up inside of him, and it can never be filled.