🏆 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...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Sweat dripped down Thirteen's face as he ran across the blazing heat. The counter's blare ripped through his senses. It was always louder outside than in the command center. That was part of the reason he opted to stay indoors and watch everything from behind the screens. It preserved his sanity better. How did everyone live through this torture?
Nine and Eighteen's traces were somewhere closer to the highway. Of course, with Nine's ability allowing her to control temperatures, even her body's, she could move that fast. Thirteen had nothing against that. He wasn't a runner. Or a mover, in general.
He hadn't even made it past the first chunk of forests from the central region, and his side already attacked him with punches of dull aches. Was he supposed to run all the way to the northern quadrant?
His comms crackled. Twelve's frantic voice bled through. Two hostiles in their location. They were ambushed. Who could it be? He powered his portable screen up, squinting at the barrage of bright blue light assaulting his eyes. Pressing two fingers on the flat, glassy surface, he moved south. The images of the grounds' map moved with them. Okay. Find Twelve and Four's tracker. There. By the forest to the highway's left.
What were they doing there? They were aiming to cross and help Five and the others deal with the overloaded melee by Section H's headquarters. He studied the two hostiles his comrades talked about. Karrel and Caden. A deadly pair. He ran a calculation in his head and arrived at an answer. If that was the case...
He pursed his lips and continued running. The grass scratched underneath his soles. His body overheated from wearing his jacket all day and engaging in a strenuous activity. Could he remove it? What would protect him from dust and the sun's rays though?
Tough choices.
The forest took shape. From the rim, crashes and defiant shrieks flew out from the spaces between the trunks. Somewhere there, Karrel was having the time of her life. She thought it would hurt Section M. His calculations yielded a decrease in their performance, but it wouldn't be a deep plunge. Numbers never lied, but he could be wrong this time. There might be factors and aspects he missed.
He wanted to believe, to give them the trust they craved from him. Hence, he dove into the undergrowth and used the messiest trail to stay hidden from Caden, or worse, Karrel. He weaved across the jagged maze of nature, tracking the evidence of chaos with his periphery. When the line of trees thinned to a fault, a blur of silver and blue rippled in the corner of his vision. His soles scratched to a halt. He threw himself behind the trunk nearest to the unfolding chaos.
Ice crunched and cracked as Four danced around Karrel's blade. Caden was beyond the wall of glaciers, craning his neck up to calculate the height. With the sun in his eyes, it was next to impossible. Four might have done an accidental good job, since the metal dart boy relied heavily on visual accuracy like Fourteen's did.
Perhaps, Thirteen could deal with him from here. His fingers crept at the band of his trousers. Damn it. He forgot the gun. The knife sat neglected on his desk too. Forget it. More chances would come. He would make sure of that.
