The Leftovers

38 2 0
                                    

"The leftovers, they call us. We're not the perfect clones. According to them, some mutation created deficiencies in us. Every year Zenson Corp prepares 500 clones and judging by the number of people here, probably twenty percent of them are not perfect. They said they're going to give us another chance instead of killing us. May be they're just trying to salvage whatever they can to avoid waste of all the time, sounds convenient. I am number 33D, D stands for defective. They said I've got psychopathy and I may not be able to distinguish between right or wrong. Bullshit."

He glanced around the room, identical faces and identical voices everywhere as if he was sitting inside a mirror maze with his own reflection everywhere. The room was rectangular with dull wall and ceiling colors, the fans whirring, the curtains slowly waving in.
The door slammed open, a man in his fifties stepped inside. He was wearing a white shirt, black denim jeans and black shoes. He had a muscular build, clear skin, bald head and a cold face.

"So.. y'all the leftovers?"- he scoffed as he at the center of the room. His voice was heavy but clear, unusual for someone his age.
"I am Sergeant Octopus, you can call me Octopus and I'll be your training supervisor. Let me tell you one thing, you are given a chance to redeem yourselves, you will have to train hard and put your deficiencies aside. Each one of you will have a personalized training course, and all of you will have one assassination target. You have three months to assassinate him. If you failed, you all die. Coordinate, get better and come up with a plan to assassinate him while you're here training."

There was a brief silence, then one of the clones raised his hand.
"Speak."- Octopus nodded towards to him.
"Who.. are we going to assassinate? We know we're not perfect but only one target for a hundred clones, how strong is he?"- the clone asked.
"You'll know how strong is he. Who is he?"- Octopus leaned in, his eyes turned red. "I am your assassination target."

The Slay Spree - Short StoriesWhere stories live. Discover now