🏆 WATTPAD CREATORS PROGRAM 🏆
𝘛𝘏𝘙𝘌𝘌. 𝘛𝘞𝘖. 𝘖𝘕𝘌. 𝘙𝘶𝘯.
Thirteen must do one thing: escape. With the game taking a different course, he has to deal with his previous allies who are now out for a taste of his blood. As secrets, betrayals...
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Thirteen squirmed against Fourteen's weight digging on his spine. One click of the trigger, and his brains would stain the grass. Not a pleasing sight. Or thought. He glanced at his wrist. Inside the rigid bandage wrapped around his healing arm, underneath the black layer of his jacket sleeve, pulsed Four's chip. It was the best shot he had in dealing with ambushes like this one.
He flexed his fingers just as Fourteen pressed the trigger. A wall of ice churned from the ground, drawing from the hydrogen particles in the air, the ground, even the trees. It was an amazing ability, provided even he had no idea how that worked in theory. Perhaps, all of those chips were embedded with the ability to bend reality and laws of nature. Probably.
The bullet chipped through the thick glacier. Fourteen leaped back, the tapered ends of the wall catching her arm. A groan rumbled low in Thirteen's lips as he braced the cold surface on his way up. "That's my gun," he said like a petulant child in need of holiday sweets. "Give it back."
Fourteen blinked before scowling at him. Five meters. A good distance, but still inside her maximum range. "Come and take it." She dangled the gun in her hands with a smirk tingeing her lips. She was quick to recover. "I dare you."
Thirteen glanced at Eight who settled on one of the RCC slabs by the fourth, fifth floor. Her dark eyes trained down on him, watching his every move. The gears in his head turned. How much time should he buy to switch out Four's chip with Karrel's? Would these two even allow him? If he breathed the wrong way, it'd be over. Carefully. He had to tread this road carefully.
He'd start by making them talk.
"What makes you think I'm a threat?" Thirteen asked, tucking his hands behind him and fumbling to undo his bandages. His thumb snagged the hem of his sleeve. It took everything in him to school his face into a passive stare even as his insides burned with tension. "With the both of you rushing here, it almost looks like you're that eager to see me."
The gun chinked when Fourteen raised it to Thirteen's face. "Enough of your nonsense," she growled. "We came here because you're the most dangerous one."
Thirteen clicked his tongue. "Even that, you got from me," he said. "What makes you think you're not simply manipulated into learning that lesson?"
Fourteen's eyes narrowed, her grip on the gun wavering. A little. Good. Keep her talking. "That's what you are, isn't it?" she said. "A scheming snake. We ought to chop your head off. That way, we wouldn't have to worry when you'll slit our throats in our sleep."
Oh, he could do that. But he wasn't here to kill people. He had to get out, survive. Live. Getting blood on his hands was the last thing he wanted. Now that he's had some of them, he should at least escape with his conscience intact. At least, what was left of it after everything.
"Did it ever occur to you it might be what Eight was thinking about you?" he ventured. It was a throwaway question, something that should never be taken seriously. But it would worm its way into people's heads, eat their brain from the inside, and take control of their limbs in the most gruesome but predictable way. "We are tasked to kill each other. There can only be one winner. What makes you think Eight has your best interests at heart?"
