The Original

There's Harvey, the original, then Paul, the second, then Neil. When a mysterious organization tries to kill all three of them, but only succeeds in wiping out their memory, problems start to rise.

His name was Harvey. He was the original, the real McCoy, the first good batch of cookies out of a pile of bad ones.

He had brown hair, brown eyes, and a normal face. He wasn't exactly handsome, but he wasn't ugly, he was just normal. He didn't really seem like someone worthy of cloning. Especially twice. But he'd entered life as an only child, and at 30 years old had two twin brothers. You couldn't tell them apart, you wouldn't be able to tell who was the original, but Harvey took pride in knowing that he wasn't any copy, he was the original, the funny joke that people like to repeat to their friends, even if they don't tell them who came up with it.

At the moment, Harvey was in a cab. He fished a cigarette out of his pocket and lighted it. He'd forgotten when he'd gotten hooked on the things, but they were a common thing on Loki ever since the scientists found out how to clone Earth materials. That was after they'd started to clone humans. Harvey had been their test subject, the one they first tried to clone. They'd wanted a simple man, they figured it would cause too many problems, confuse too many people, if they cloned someone rich or famous. So they'd cloned Harvey. And now Harvey had a good sum of money, at least to pay the bills and maybe get himself a treat for a few years. The thing about clones, though, was that they weren't exactly like the person they were copied off of. When Harvey had signed up for cloning, he'd thought he'd end up with some exact doppelganger, alike in every way. Well, he'd gotten a doppelganger, but they didn't always talk at the same time and think the same thing. At least it made it easier to get along, since the scientists had said they'd have to be roommates, in order to not confuse people. So yeah, they were together a lot. And it wasn't just them, Harvey had two twins. Harvey smirked. Musta liked my good looks over there at the labs, he thought.

"Here ya are," the cabbie said.

"Thanks," Harvey said. and handed him his money, then got out. Loki. Back in Earth's region, they'd named their planets after Roman gods. According to one of the many religions on Loki, the Norse gods had killed the Roman gods and destroyed their planets, then creating their own. What the people who had no religion on Loki said was that the few survivors of Earth's apocalypse found this planet and settled down here, multiplying and creating life on Loki. Yet another religion on Loki said the Greek gods had not been defeated, the Earthlings had disrespected them and were severely punished. Harvey didn't like to get involved in that stuff. People freaked him out enough, thinking about the overall creator/creators would just melt his brain the rest of the way down.

"You there, come over here," he heard a voice say from an alleyway.

"I'd rather not," Harvey said, and started walking away.

"I said-" Harvey felt a hand clamp around his mouth "-come over here!"

The air was fresh, the clouds were in the sky, Thor was shining, and it was a beautiful day. Paul stood out on the balcony and looked out at the day. It was about 2:34 P.M. Harv would be back pretty soon with food. Harvey wasn't so bad to live with, he was a good brother, but it wasn't so easy living with Neil, Neil worshiping the Greek gods and Paul worshiping the Norse. The belief of having to fight or else you'd end up in Niflheim had been erased long ago, Paul having no knowledge of it. That had been an Earth belief.
But there was nothing wrong with some fighting, and Paul was sure he'd go down fighting. Paul deeply breathed in the air, looking down upon the beautiful city. He preferred the wilderness of Loki, but the city had it's own nature running through it's veins. Paul looked at his watch. Where was Harvey? Had he been mugged? Paul doubted that. Harvey was a tough guy, living in the city, you had to be. Could somebody have snuck up on him? Paul sighed. The city, sure it was beautiful, but that was thanks to the wilderness. The city was cold and mean at heart.

"Hey, clone boy!"

Paul felt a rope tighten around his neck. Instantly he felt rage fill him. Many believers of the Norse gods religion would get a shot sometime in life that gave them the ability to fill themselves with berserker rage. The berserker rage would activate whenever the subject is in danger. As the brain and the rising heart rate told the serum to activate, it would very quickly make the subjects skin stronger, make him madder, and make him overall more dangerous. So as the rope pulled back on Paul's neck, the people handling the rope were finding it more and more difficult to control the newly unleashed beast. Paul pulled the rope down, taking the people gripping it with it and off the roof, crashing into the balcony. Paul felt a sharp pain in his neck. He grabbed one of the thugs who had been controlling the rope. Another pain in the neck. Then another. Paul's vision started to blur. He reared his fist back in the air, the thug now a big mass of black, with a thin slit of skin color that was his neck against. Whatever it was that must have been on Paul's chest felt so heavy. And something else kept pulling him to the ground. Darkness closed around Paul as it pulled him all the way down.

The End

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