A girl with extraordinary abilities struggles to cope with the fact she's a clone, fleeing from her captors in the middle of the night coinciding with the Summer Solstice.
As always, the smear of thick blood around her ankles was nothing new. What changed, however, was the colour of her surroundings. Gone was the eerie white glow and the polished, immaculate tiles. The warmth of the winding corridors and the sting of injections were lost in the cold night air, as lost as she was. She was surprisingly calm for the situation, plucking shards of glass from her sole as if picking stones from a wellington boot, stumbling over branches and roots in a wild, almost lustful search for an escape route. Each cut, each slip and graze and every drop of blood spurred her on, a dark green glow enveloping her eyes as she leaped over the approaching ledge, down 30 or so feet into the gorge below.
On this such an occasion, such a jump wasn't lethal. It wasn't even a tumble or a broken bone, either. It was, for lack of a better word, a slow, descending glide. One that caught the girl by surprise too, who strained her lungs in a fearful, ear-splitting scream. The forest around her exploded into flocks of feathered beasts and low rumbles from the larger Dragons scrambling into the deeper reaches of the vegetable void. For now, the chorus of creatures great and small provided excellent cover, just as she heard the familiar 'dog whistle'. Oh, how she hated that sound. She clawed at her ears, shaking her head and going weak at the knees. Now was not the time. It was that single thought that saved her a moment, her eyes again an emerald glow as the path ahead burst into green flames. The heat melted back the trees to their earthy roots, but still the girl ran, as if oblivious to the chaotic, hellish landscape unfolding around her. And, as if she never existed, the faded into the thick smoke, leaving the clean up crew cursing and chasing shadows once more.
"Y'know why we keep her in the low levels, right?" the man crowed, the dawn sun 6 hours later shining down on his expensive business suit. He was a harsh, Iberian man, old and rugged with graying hair and a horrible, overshadowing anger.
"We keep her down there because security is good, right?" the young chaser replied, his out-of-breath voice grating on the Iberian's ear. With a groan and a crack, the younger man fell to the ground reeling in pain. He clutched at what once resembled a face, but... it was missing. A burning, smelted glob of flesh replaced his cheek and half his tongue. His agony, his tortured screams... attempted screams, more like... fell on deaf ears. The Iberian was already walking away, breathing heavily a moment.
"We keep her down there so she tired herself out on expendable trash..." he smirked, a slight hint of a laugh bubbling up from his throat. With a powerful stride, he walked another ten paces, before he turned on the spot. With a sharp intake of air and a loose murmur, the Iberian forcefully hooked forward, a stream... no, a bullet of fire ringing out from his knuckles. And the man without a face took it directly to the chest. Again, a cacophony of screams and wails enraged the forest into flight, eventually fading out into silence and the occasional crackle of flame as the sun burned down from the morning sky. The Iberian humming a classical song, pulled a personal recorder from his jacket pocket, bringing it to his mouth as he hit the record button.
"Ahem... this is Victorio Salazar, personal log for review, day seven," he announced, scratching his head as a clean-up team got to work around him, "The clone escaped again... five nights she's been on this silly little rampage... and trust me, after this? She'll be broken so much she won't flee again... I'll carry on alone, as the youngsters have... expired, shall we say?" he chuckled, hitting stop as he wandered around a moment, "Yeah, expired. That'll do... that'll do."