War Games

War Games - 2

*Edited 10/22/2016*

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    So here we are, four years later, and we're endlessly on the run. Ever since we ran away, we've been tracked by secret agents that were sloppily created just for capturing us. And killing us. Both.

    They have muscles on top of muscles, like their steroids are on steroids. But, they can't have it all. The agents are extremely dumb. Beyond dumb. Honestly, I'm not sure there's a brain in there. They are programmed to eat, breathe, and kill.

   I suppose that's the price to pay when you hastily mutate a human without ironing out the very important details. These agents were former prisoners on death row, given the "choice"–if they declined, they were taken against their will–to serve the government to redeem themselves of their previous convictions. Of course, no viable information was actually given to them, except that they would waive their death penalty under specific conditions: do as they say and work for the lab, without any communication to the civilized world. In other words, they were basically still in a prison that was presented to them as a bit more free than their old one, with the prospect of staying alive.

   Zeke and I were carefully cultivated, with months and months of care and research put into us. These agents were the complete opposite. Injected with toxic chemicals and brutally mutated, they were very flawed, very dumb, and had a ticking clock on their lifetime. Within a month, their superhuman muscles would quickly deteriorate and render them useless, incapacitated, mouth-breathing masses. Without any other motivation but to kill us, they die, much more painfully and terribly than they would have on death row.

    Why are we being chased? Quite clearly, we're "failures". Since we "rebelled". Well, shit. If you ask me, you can't genetically enhance every aspect of us and expect our teenage rebellious hormones to be non-existent.

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    "Ava!" Zeke yelled, "Behind you, again!"

    Once again I spun around just in time to catch an agent's fist flying in my direction and I realized that I really need to stop turning my back on the enemy. I dropped to a crouch, just barely dodging his punch, then I sprung back up again and drove my knee where the sun don't shine. He moaned and doubled over, which I took to my advantage by spinning around him so I could kick the back of his knees. After he fell face first into the pavement, he rolled over and grabbed his crotch whilst groaning at the same time. He wasn't getting up anytime soon.

    Two down, three to go. I glanced at Zeke, pleased to see that he'd already knocked out two and was working on the last. After delivering a jaw-breaking punch that knocked his opponent to the ground, he locked eyes with me.

"Let's split," he muttered.

"Don't have to tell me twice," I responded as we got our asses out of there.