#29,258,129

“The year is 5259, and I am a mutant.”

Dain headed down the crowded sidewalk towards the small apartment he called his home. The normally springy, pink grass on the side of the road was flattened out from the rush-hour walkers heading towards their own homes. The asphalt sidewalks were crowded with people, and the concrete roads were stuffed with cars. The maroon skies were clear of all clouds, so he could see the bright green sun shining down on everyone. The year was 5259 on planet Earth, and even in this far distant future, a man of Dain’s type would be shunned by society; possibly even worse than just that.

Recently, a Civil Rights Act had been passed by the government, which successfully integrated cyborgs. But mutant experiments, like Dain, were still forced to wear illusionary devices, disguised as media players or other electronics. This was not only for their safety, but also for the safety of those around them.

Humans often feared mutants, and would cause a panicked uproar if they saw one. Possible riots could occur, and then the government would have to get involved and people would get hurt. So, to avoid all this, the government issued serial numbers and illusionary devices, to all mutants. This was the accepted way of life, and no one had ever complained of it.

The only issue with this system was that the devices only worked on most people. 99 of people, to be exact, for the other 1, they could see the mutants for what they really were, and this caused serious problems.

Today had just not been my day. First, I calculated the wrong equation at work. Next, I spill my lunch all over my shirt. And then, I almost got my wing caught in a door and blew my cover! Seriously, what else could possibly go wrong today, short of a massive explosion resulting in my eminent death?

As I headed down the street, and spotted the small group of white capped men, I realized that, yes! It very well could get worse.

When I saw the tallest of the group point at me and shout, waving what looked like a gun in my general direction and causing the other men to point guns at me also, I suddenly knew exactly what they saw. So, I ran.

I ran for my life, since I knew they would kill me if they caught up. I’d only ran into a group like this one once before. Which was on my way from the lab I was created in, to the orientation that assigned my number and “wristwatch”, to me.

As absorbed in my fearful, frenzied thinking as I was, I didn’t notice the blonde boy with the iPod, until I ran straight into him. My arm caught on the cord to his headphones, yanking the small device away from him, and knocking him to the ground several feet away. I myself, skidded on my knees, scraping my claws on the hard asphalt, and nearly getting one of my horns stuck in the side of a trashcan.

Getting up as quickly as I could manage, I turned to check for the men in the white caps, and not seeing them, took a few deep breaths to calm my rapid heart rate. Then, hearing a small sound of irritation from the ground beside me, it hit me that I’d sent that poor boy sprawling across the blacktop. He’d probably hit me if I tried, but I thought I’d offer to help anyways.

So, I turned around to offer him my hand and give him his iPod back, but I was too stunned by his appearance to do anything but stare. He had massive wings folded to his back, that looked like solid stained glass. He had gorgeous spirals that seemed to be made of ivory, that spanned his arms. But, the most striking bit, was his eyes. Bright, ice blue, and piercing. Beautiful in colour and design, even as he glared at me from the ground.

“You’re a-” I started, but he interrupted me.

“Mutant experiment.” He got up, dusting himself off and glaring at me. “A freak. Not human. A monster. Seriously, gawk all you want, just gimme my iPod back.”

I shook my head, walking over to him and handing him his iPod, I chuckled quietly in amusement. “You forgot to add, “too”, at the end, there.”

He tilted his head in confusion as I rolled up my left sleeve, unclasping my watch and pulling it off. This exposed my rather large raven’s wings, ebony horns, black and white eyes, and onyx talons.

He stared at me, the confusion just beginning to disperse, and the tension in his eyebrows starting to slacken, also. He even looked a bit like he was going to speak, when suddenly, I felt this unbearable pain stab through the left side of my chest.

I swear I’d heard a bang, and possibly heard that boy shouting, but I couldn’t really tell. Though, I could feel my grasp on reality and consciousness slipping away, as my knees gave out. I hit the ground with a thump and a slight squelch, and coughed once before passing out.

… …“Oren! Ooooooren! I need help on the math daddy gave me! Can you help me big brotheeer?” Dain sniffled as he traipsed energetically over to Oren, whom he considered his older brother there at the lab.

Oren sighed irritably at the idiocy of the child, but couldn’t help but smile at the adorableness of it all. Chuckling, he took the sheet from Dain, smiling down at the raven-boy and flittering his own stained-glass wings. Looking down at the math problems on the sheet of paper, he laughed and shook his head. “You’re more of a blonde sometimes, than I am, Dain.”

Laughing as the boy pouted at him, Oren reached down and ruffled Dain’s hair, before taking the small mutant into his arms and flopping down onto the couch with the boy on his lap, starting to explain the math problems to him… …

Blinking my eyes open, I shook my head slightly and tried to clear out the remnants of some old memory that had probably been deleted from my hard drive at the orientation. That happened to me a lot: short blips of memories came up as dreams, and I’d swear I recognized someone. Though, it was odd that if would be a complete stranger like the boy.

I tried to open my eyes to look at him and reassure myself that it actually was him, but the sun was too bright and I closed them again immediately, groaning and wincing slightly.

Suddenly, I heard a gasp and I found myself being jostled around, and moved up into a sitting position so that I had to force my eyes open and stare up into the shocked face of the boy.

“You’re not dead!” he gaped.

I furrowed my eyebrows, gaze jumping from his puffy eyes, to the blood (my blood), smeared all over his hands, and then back up to his face. I repeated this cycle of fidgeting vision, until my sight finally rested on his vibrant blue eyes, a few moments later. I held his gaze steadily for another moment before speaking. “Should I be?”

Disbelief written all over his face, the boy just stared at me. “They shot you! Those bastards shot you! Straight through the heart! So yes, you should be dead!”

looking down at my chest in confusion, I saw a small hole in my shirt. There was blood seeping steadily out of said hole, and staining my shirt. I shook my head irritably as I sat there for several long, silent moments, just listening to the cars whiz by on the nearby road, and watching the stain spread steadily across the pale lavender fabric, before speaking flatly. “My heart,” I began, “is over here,” I flicked the right side of my chest, which was completely undamaged, and then looked up at him expectantly. Though, the reaction I got wasn’t quite the one I expected.

He blinked, staring at me blankly for a moment. Then suddenly, he slammed his fist on the ground, leaving a small smudge of red there, and making me jump. “Damn it,” he grumbled angrily. “So, I just basically snogged you for absolutely nothing!”