🏆 WATTPAD CREATORS PROGRAM 🏆
🏆 8CC November - December 2023 Completer 🏆
𝘛𝘏𝘙𝘌𝘌. 𝘛𝘞𝘖. 𝘖𝘕𝘌. 𝘉𝘦𝘨𝘪𝘯.
Thirteen remembers one thing from the moment he woke up: live on, through whatever means necessary. When he is thrown into a society...
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Heels clacked against the floor. It couldn't have been more absurd, knowing it was probably dubbed over. Faint blue light kissed his forearm as a stark figure of a woman walked by. Particles of light shining through an ancient projector supported her back. She was only brought to life when Thirteen discovered the disks in the supply rooms. Maybe these would be of use for whatever reason.
Now, he sat with the rest of the section on the tables, glaring at the smartly-dressed woman with red-rimmed spectacles and aerosolized hair. Her sharp nose turned down on them as she roamed around in search of someone who would answer her question.
"The Winter War is a conflict between the Soviets and the Finnish people over a portion of territory," the woman said. Her voice was more monotonic than the counter's alarm. Another telltale sign that this woman was no more than a program or some sort of interactive intelligence. "According to what we have discussed, which side do you think won?"
One scoffed, leaning back on her seat with her arms crossed over her chest. "I don't see why we have to talk about this," she said. "It's obviously the Soviets. They got what they wanted."
"Yeah, but the lady said they suffered great losses and at one point conceded against the Finnish," Eight answered. "I don't see that as a win. The way towards it matters as much as the end result."
"So, the Finnish won, then?" Five argued. "They conceded a portion of their territory and lost a lot of soldiers too."
Thirteen sighed and brought his feet down from the table. "What the Winter War tells us is that nobody wins at war," he said. "Aggression might get you what you want, but not without demanding something in return. Most of the time, the price is larger than the prize."
He whirled towards the programmed lady. "Isn't that right?"
The lady opened her mouth, but a series of explosions followed by the loud blare of the counter drowned her answer. Glass shattered, and a sharp streak of silver whizzed past Thirteen. He dove to the ground as the weapon sailed towards the lady, nailing her on the spot. Blue glitched into pixels of green and pink. Then, she shattered into a thousand shards.
The projector clicked shut.
Everyone dove to the ground, hands flying over their heads. Thirteen crawled towards the window, cursing the drag of his body and his hands slipping across the dusty floor. Rock groaned and debris peeled from the ceiling as more darts and strong forces pepper the building's facade. Intruder alerts joined the counter's monotone, signaling invasion from multiple entries. From his periphery, he watched Five ram into a door. She disappeared in a flash, followed by other comrades who could do well with fighting up front.
The explosions stopped. The only casualty was the window. It could be fixed. Thirteen lowered his hands. His breaths rattled as he edged out of his hunkered position and glanced past the webbing cracks of the glass. The mounds have long been flattened, but the plan worked. It was harder to step into the building's front yard without using an ability. Only a select few could pass over the circular trench—the teleporter, Eight, and those who have extra agility and power to take the leap.
