Kelle, 15
Somewhere in Michigan

I didn't know excactly what it was about running that humored me. Maybe it was the wind rushing thorough my short, choppy hair or the feeling of complete and utter exhaustion after running for so long. Or maybe it's how in control I felt when my legs hit the pavement, or dirt, or grass, and I just go. Well, whatever it is I love about running, it's what I was doing then.

I stopped, panting, before looking up to the setting sun, and I leant up against the tree. This forest I was in wasn't dense, but the trees towered above my head like skyscrapers. I'd heard about those, but never seen them. Wouldn't it be great to see some one day? Highly unlikely. My dark green eyes scanned the surrounding area as I caught my breath, and I slumped the heavy backpack back onto my slim shoulder and startd up, feeling the breath leave my lungs.

It slowly became dark, and I'd been running for hours. I thought that will be how it was from then on. Not good or bad. Just...running. It all started thatmorning before what used to be school for me, and was now somewhere I have to avoid. I'd avoid school anyway, but that's not the point. I lived with my aunt and uncle, because my parents died in a car crash somewhere, apparently. Well, Aunt Elise and Uncle Jim were great. And they were the ones who broke the news to me when I was six years old.

My name is Kelle Ratliff. I was fifteen years old, and every year, the government chooses two babies to experiment on, creating what they call 'abnormalities'. I happen to be one of those. When I was a fetus, I was chosen to experiement. They switched tww of my chromosomes with hummingbird chromosomes, to see if I was faster, thinner, smaller, lighter this way. I think it was a way to decrease the rise in obesity. Well, they were partially right. I'm little, I'm fast, but I have wings. Yes, two thin wings where my shoulder blades should be. All of the other stories about people with wings, or other genetic transfers or replacements? Yeah, not accurate. I've read some of them. Not the truth.

We didn't have to hide, or anything of that sort, because people knew about abnormalities. We just normally preferred to keep wings, extra limbs, etc hidden from the public. I can't think of how anful it would be to walk into school with my annoying wings showing. I'd get stared at and laughed at.

Well, didn't have to hide happens to be the key phrase. Didn't. Until our government mutually agreed that it was for the sake of our country, and our country's privacy, that all abnormalities be 'taken to an institution' to 'better afirm ourselves with our unique abilities'.

Baically, we were getting executed. So, that morning, little ol' Kelly Elizabeth Ratliff from down the street packed up a suitcase and ran. Yep, and that's where I was. In that forest, who knows where. I knew there had to be other abnormalities somewhere in this country, one other one had to be my age, I knew for a fact. And male, because a female and a male were always chosen together, and obviously I'm a female, so the other obviously was male.

As soon as the sun set, the tempature from freezing to beyond freezing. I pulled out a thick blanket I packed (it took up most of the room in my backpack, but I was thankful I had it in this weather) and wrapped up in it. It was unusally cold for springtime. I hoped it would warm up soon, because being alone in the snow was not something I was looking foward to. I tucked a strand of my short, choppy blonde hair behind my ear, and closed my eyes. But then I realized it probably wouldn't be a good idea to sleep in this weather. So I opened them back up again.

At that moment in time, I would give anything to be somewhere warm.

Chaz, 17
Los Angeles, California

"I still think, yeah I still think we're in love!" I sang out, belting out the notes with all my might whilst strumming my guitar easily. People on the streets began to notice me. Wouldn't be long before they ran away screaming. I grinned masochistically before contiuning to sing, "Shoes and jackets, purses and tennis rackets, make their way as they please in those SUVS to the country club..." More strumming.

My black hair was falling into my eyes as I belted out the next part, "I don't play much, but I do enjoy having the ball in my court and what's more, I like playing for love. Well, I've got arms and you've got legs, together we've made some mistakes but hey, we're doing well. And I've got reasons to believe in the power of you and me to break this spell..."

My lip piercing, tatoos, and dyed hair didn't seem to be bothering my 'audience', so I continued to play the song I'd written way back in the day. It felt like second nature, strumming those guitar strings, and I knew it was weird that I could. Being 1/36 shark didn't help that's for sure. I finished the song before rubbing a hand over my spiked black hair, dyed blue at the tips. Everyone clapped and placed random amounts of money in my guitar case, 'conviently' laying open beside me. I grinned as a teenage gril placed a ten in there. I winked and she put in another five.

Typical.

I looked out across the road, hardly a road at all, to the wide beach where people were sunbathing. The water was rushing onto the shore, and after putting the guitar in, I closed the case and picked it up, planning on going to the beach. But I was stopped by a man in all black, sunglasses covering his eyes, and a Bluetooth piece in his ear.

Damn.

I raised my eyebrows, feeling more and more defensive as I realized what was going on. They couldn't be here for me, could they? I wasn't hurting anybody...that often. Look, I was all prepared to run and stuff, but then the guy went and said,

"Charles Richard Anderson?"

I turned slowly, my black skinny jeans roasting my legs in the warm sun. "Yeah?"

"Do you go by Charlie?" The man asked, almost monotonely.

"Chaz," I glared, trying to walk away. "Look, I got places to be and people to see there. Let me go on about my way."

"Chaz," he started, my name sounding funny on his lips, "I know what you are."

"Damn right you do," I said gruffly, before kicking him where it hurts and throwing a few right hooks, and then pushing him to the ground. He laid there for a moment, which gave me time to step roughly on his nose, causing blood to spew out uncontrollably. He cursed loudly, causing the mothers to stand up, searching for whoever corrupted their baby's ears, and I grinned and kicked him swiftly in the head. He was still, which gave me long enough to grab my guitar and book the hell outta there.

Gwen, 16
New York, New York
Upper East Side

I lounged boredly across the chaise, picking my nails as my mother discussed the issue at hand. I knew that somehow, it would all be worked out. Hopefully. I picked up a strand of my curly brown hair and frowned as my mother began to sob uncontrollably and I sat up quickly. "Mother?"

"Oh, Gwendolyn!" She cried, her blonde hair falling over me as she hugged me tightly. "Oh, my baby!"

I rolled my eyes and looked at her, my blue eyes accusing. "You were the one who volunteered me to be different! Because of you I'm a stupid reptile!"

"You aren't a reptile!" My mom cried, pulling at her hair. "And your father volunteered you, not me!"

Gwen glared, her eyes turning to slits. "Mom, I was grafted with snake genes. I am a freaking reptile! I have pale skin, and I'm scaly and nasty when I get into water! My eyes are really narrow and I can unhinge my jaw! I'm a snake!"

"No, you aren't!" Mother sobbed, collapsing to the floor. I knew what I had to do. I pulled my thick, nearly frizzy hair into a ponytail and tossed on a jacket, and threw some clothes into my Coach duffel bag. Slipping on the most comfortable shoes I had, a pair of raty Converse my mother hated, I slipped out of the door, my mother still crying on the floor.

My unnaturally tall height brought attention, and I was unrealistically slender, but all I wanted was to be fat and short. I was a tal, plain Jane other than my height and size. I had an ugly flat nose, and thin, pale lips, and narrow, nearly colorless eyes. But I was tall. Yay.

I was also smart. My mother was never around to see my report card, but I had a knack for memorizing things. Basically, I was everything she wished I wasn't. She wanted a pretty daughter, and thanks to darling daddy (don't even know who he is) I'm a freak. That what I dubbed myself. The Freak.

Once boarding the elevator, I rode down to the bottom on the apartment complex and looked around. A teen girl on the streets of New York. But most teenage girls don't have venom in their teeth that can kill you with one strategically placed bite.


Yes, they all seem freakishly perfect right now. Ever heard of something called character development? :)

To keep it straight:

Kelle, 15- Hummingbird hybrid
Chaz, 17- Shark hybrid
Gwen, 16- Snake hybrid

Kelle seems quite tame compared to those two. Well, in the next chapter, you're going to meet Everett and Ren. Plus, two of our protaganists meet. Where excactly?

Review?