On the one hand, I’m really happy I managed to escape. On the other hand—
Did I?
Did I, though?
This place. Thiscreepyplace. These tricky assholes. I don’t believe they’re really this stupid, that they’d really let me walk out of a highly secured prison/laboratory with all their awesome guns.
I glance at the stock of weaponry camouflaged in a nearby thicket. If I can manage to get even one of these magnificent pieces of machinery into Winston’s hands, I might be able to beg forgiveness for being a moron. But the truth is, despite the fact that I’m technically a free man standing here freezing my ass off in the middle of—I squint upward, then around—some mossy, frosty mess of forest, I’m not sure I’m actually free. And I’m not sure I’ll ever make it home.
I begin to pace.
Fact one: There’s snow on the ground. There’s snow on the ground, and I killed, like, a bunch of people, and definitely left a trail of blood in my wake. I managed to suffer through the worst of my injuries as they healed, but I’m not exactly equipped with a medic kit. I had to pry two bullets out of my leg with my bare hands and then pack the open wounds with snow; a toddler could’ve pointed in the direction of me screaming obscenities at the sky. Fact two: I’m hiding in the forest like a cartoon princess. Even without a blood trail, The Reestablishment could easily scan this island with a heat-seeking drone. Fact three: A squirrel had the audacity to climb up my leg with its freaky claws and look at me with its stupid, adorable face, and I swear to God I thought I saw its little eyes glowing. I don’t know if I’m seeing things, but the fourth fact is: I don’t trust these people.
And fifth of all—
I groan as I drag my hands down my face.
Fifth of all, I should’ve killed the girl.
A bright red bird swoops overhead, landing on a nearby branch. It studies me with its beady eyes, and I glare back, practically daring it to be some kind of robot.
“What are you looking at?” I ask.
It ruffles its feathers, head twitching.
“Hey—don’t shake your wings at me. I know you’re probably some cyborg bird—”
It cuts me off with a soft trill, alighting with another shake of its head.
I sigh, backing up against the tree trunk. The Reestablishment took pretty much everything useful off my body, including my watch, but based on the position of the sun I think it’s safe to estimate that I’ve been out here for at least several hours.Several hoursI spent hiking through the forest and they still haven’t tracked me down.
I haven’t had to kill anyone at all.
This distinct lack of recent murdering is making me anxious. Every sound startles me. Every fairy-tale creature pisses me off. Unspent adrenaline is coursing through my veins, winding me up—making me paranoid.
I slide down the trunk into a seated position, accidentally bumping my heap of weapons in the process. They illuminate through the brush, awakening from their electric stupor. I’d bet all my clothes plus the very excellent hair on my head that these things have trackers in them.
I close my eyes, exhaling.
I spent the first couple hours keeping myself busy, setting up camp. I built a temporary, concealed shelter with local materials; collected snow for water; stole nuts from squirrels, berries from birds. Aside from the fact that I’m freezing through my bloodied sweater, this landscape is not a challenge. Seriously. In one of my early training sims I was stranded in a remote jungle for ten days with nothing but an empty canteen for water, and by the end of it Warner almost paid me a compliment.
He said—and I quote—
“That wasn’t altogether disappointing. But just because your body can heal itself at an extraordinary rate doesn’t make you invincible. Stop showing off. You spend too much time with Kishimoto. Next time, don’t bleed all over everything like an idiot. Don’t let your enemy know what you’re capable of. Unless, of course, it is your intention to be swiftly murdered in your youth.”
A glowing review.
The only problem is, I didn’t learn from my mistakes. I did bleed all over everything, and maybe I was showing off a little. But Warner is pretty much never wrong, and according to his calculations, I should be at that swiftly murdered stage in my life by now.
This is some kind of psychological manipulation, I know it is.
Theyletme escape.
I had a feeling this was a trap when they threw me on a gurney without strapping me down.I should’ve known for sure it was a trap a few beats earlier, when they sent a gorgeous murderer into my prison cell to distract me with her gorgeousness. I should’ve killed her the moment I realized she was human. Should’ve disarmed her immediately and drove the knife through one or both of her eyes instead of losing a full heartbeat of my life wondering how a person could walk around with a face like that without warning people first. Honestly, killing her at literally any point would’ve been a really excellent idea.
Instead, I left an enemy alive, and I did it on purpose.
I bang my head against the tree again.
