The seconds tick by. I smooth down my silky ponytail and guide it to tumble over my shoulder. My eyes focus around the deserted alleyway. The cobbles that lie beneath my feet are uneven and slippery. I’m enclosed by 2 walls on either side of my tensed body. A 30 ft wooden barrier prevents my escape from behind me. The adrenaline courses through my veins and my hands shake with apprehension. The wind whistles loudly, surging down the tapered street. I am the dead end.
I reach into the pocket of my black lycra jumpsuit; the newest technology of modern fighting. Apparently cleansing doesn’t rid the planet of every compulsive obsession. The suits control your body temperature, making sure you are neither over-heating nor unpleasantly cold. Right now, warm air fans through the jumpsuit despite my chilly surroundings. My muscles feel warm and I’m ready. They shan’t be long.
My fingers lock around the tiny compact disc. It the same perfect oval; its glossy silver coat is still fully intact however the hologram inside is not. The fuzzy image displayed is the result of my obsessive overuse. I sigh and press the black button.
Even though I’ve stared at this hologram every day for the past 5 days, I still haven’t got used to it. It’s the same photo as the day I found it; the black-haired man bound to a weaved chair in the middle of a dank room, his eyes oblivious to everything except fear. I gasp and bite my lip. The sudden crescendo of footsteps snaps me out of my trance. I disable the hologram and slip it back into the pocket of my jumpsuit.
My eyes snap up just in time. They appear from an adjoining path. 7 white burly figures march towards me; their impassive frowns refresh my memory and my motive. My trepidation flees from my body. I smirk.
My arms cross my waist as I draw my scaled baton from my left holster and my golden dagger from my right. The bodies continue to allure me closer, exciting me with the definite forthcoming attack. I squint up through my layered lashes. Their sparkling white couture stings at my eyes and I refocus my eyes on the dirty grey cobbles; they’re so human, so normal. I love it.
The plodding footsteps of the trespassers come to a halt. I follow their example for once and stop about 5 metres in front. I glower at each of them, assessing which will be the weaker or the stronger. They are all huge; all male.
I size up the closest foe. He looks exactly like me; he looks human. I waver and my weapon withdraws to brush my thigh. Perhaps I shouldn’t fight him? Maybe I shouldn’t kill him?
I shake my head and all my thoughts fly out the window. They’re not human and they never will be. The blank attackers that stand before me are the Leto and right now, they’re going to try and kill me. The haunted, dead eyes of the closest Leto imprint in my brain, clouding my vision.
Seven against 1 isn’t exactly a fair fight. I’m neither tall nor muscular but I am agile and smart. I am also mortal. The mechanical Leto may have the typical characteristics of strength and knowledge but when it comes to fighting, I have the upper hand. My lips curve into a smug smile as my eyes flash wickedly; I will win.
The nearest Leto steps up. There’s silence in the dank alleyway apart from my shallow breaths and the dripping of a leaky pipe somewhere. Dark is drawing in; I need to get started.
The Leto and I begin to circle each other. I need not worry about the other members of the Leto joining to fight with the Leto. Their methods are simple and traditional; one on one. However with my 83 point skill level, on their own, none of them have a chance even in a group.
YOU ARE READING
90 days to live
Romance'My mother used to tell me that life is just a series of battles; it is up to us whether we are brave enough to fight them' Arriving back to Earth, Lara Hall has just completed her conditions. She finds millions of people desiring her attent...
