That's What You Get {Playing With Fire}
I.
"Run! Run, damn it!"
My feet picked up speed the instant my brother's warning shouted. Tripping over the pavement, gasping already from our earlier mad flight, I headed towards our rendezvous point. It was just a hundred feet away.
Footsteps sounded behind me and, listening closely, I could make out that they were his. My brother's, that is, not his. But I knew that our pursuer was close by, for otherwise my brother's call would not have sounded so panicked.
A shriek hit the air and I skidded to a halt. Ten feet away. My head turned and I saw that my brother was sprawled on the concrete, trying desperately to get to his feet. And there, right behind him, was the man we had been running from, a silent shadow detaching from its surroundings.
"Gilbert!" I screamed, retracing my steps.
His head snapped up, red eyes wide in horror. "No! Roderich, keep going!"
I blocked out the words, now launching myself towards the man, hands outstretched. I called on every ounce of willpower I had in my body and pushed outwards, palms facing the figure.
The night exploded in music, booming around us. The force of the sound knocked the man to the ground. I listened to Gilbert scramble up and continue running.
The man stood in a flash, his arms reaching for me. I tried to backpedal, but before I knew it harsh hands were pinning my arms to my sides. I struggled, screamed.
But it wasn't a scream for help. No, that was what he wanted. I was the lesser prize, and I knew it.
I called out, "Keep running! Don't come back!"
I knew that Gilbert would understand. I was caught. There wasn't any hope for me now.
The man dragged me away.
II.
There are three types of people in this world. There are the norms – the humans, the good, hardworking majority. The oblivious, sheep in a world of wolves, fine to be the underdogs and know nothing but the bare minimum. Then there are the mutties – the one percent of the population that is mutant. The special, the ones with powers. Also the hunted, the impure, the hated.
The final group are the creepers – the hunters of the mutties. They follow the mutants, put them in cages, experiment. All in the name of science and the desire to return the earth to the norms, who fear the mutties.
My parents were norms of the worst sort – my mother a druggie, my father a drunkard. Through all three of her pregnancies my mother used smack. They say that it does something, changes the fetus. All that is known is that mothers who drink or drug will end up with mutties for kids. But they didn't know that back in '96, when I was born. And while they did know that in 2000, the year of my younger brother's bringing into life, she didn't care.
The drink made my father dangerous. Well, he wasn't my father biologically, but he was the only one I have ever known. My two brothers were unlucky enough to be related to him truly, but I wasn't so cursed. Not that my story was any better. But at least the man didn't have any claim to me.
He found out that Gilbert, my older brother by ten months, and I were mutties right before Ludwig, the youngest, was born. And that was when the beatings began. Every day there were new bruises on our skin. We retaliated. We had the means to. It just made things worse.
Every night we prayed that Ludwig would be normal. But on his sixth birthday he lifted up the table and we knew that it wasn't so. We left that night and took him with us. Otherwise he too would be the victim of father's beatings.
Gilbert was eleven, I was ten, and we had a first-grader in tow. We hadn't known about the creepers.
We started seeing moving shadows everywhere. I noticed how they seemed to be watching us. Gilbert laughed at me, called me a pussy, nothing he hadn't done before. But I worried. I saw how they leaned in, excited, whenever Ludwig picked up a car. When I coaxed the music out of the air in soft lullabies they almost jumped on us. But they were the worst when Gilbert snapped his fingers and brought up the flame. Then I could almost feel them wanting to take us. But somehow I knew they had to watch longer.
Eventually Gilbert realized that I was right and we started to run. We've been years on the run now. I am fourteen. Our powers have grown and progressed. The creepers have gotten more and more hostile. And that was where you came in. When one of the creepers decided he had waited enough. And you know what happened.
It is how I ended up in my current situation, hands bound tightly behind my back, sitting in the back of the truck with my mouth gagged. My power is focused in my hands, as it is in both of my brothers. The creepers left me back there, defenseless and scared, while they drove who knows where. I only hoped that Gilbert made it to the rendezvous with Ludwig.
There was hardly any light back there, but my eyes had adjusted. I could feel my glasses resting on my nose, thankfully unbroken. I could see the door of the truck, faint light filtering in through the crack, taunting me. But I could do nothing. It would almost have been better if I was blind in the darkness.
We'd been running for so long. We weren't sure why, but there was an air of horror around the men, and we heard the whispers in the towns when people saw us. The whispers that said, "Don't worry, the creepers will get 'em soon. They'll be away then." They knew what kids without parents around meant. In this day and age, orphans and homeless children were given homes immediately. The runaways were only mutties.
And so we ran from every shadow, every hint of darkness, never staying in one place. And now I wasn't sure what to do, what to expect. Experimentation, cages, sometimes even extermination… All of this I had heard. It was not comforting.
I buried my head into my knees and muffled a sob. I would give anything to be a norm.
III.
Ludwig watched the door, fingers fidgeting with his shirt nervously. They should have been back by now with food, out of breath and irritable, but unharmed, as always. They should be cooking something over a fire that Gilbert created, arguing and shoving at each other in half-hearted attempts to make things appear normal.
Just as Ludwig was about to get up and go out looking - though they had said for him to stay put, since when did he listen to them? He was the most mature anyway - the door flew open. His breath caught, relieved, as Gilbert stumbled inside. But then confusion hit as his oldest brother slammed the door shut and fell against it, shaking.
Getting to his feet, Ludwig walked towards his eldest brother, blue eyes full of questions. He didn't have to say anything. All it took was a quiet stare and Gilbert answered.
Ludwig flinched as Gilbert's fist banged against the door, causing it to shake. Not for the first time, he thanked the heavens that his brother had not been granted super-strength. He did not know how to hold himself back.
"They took him," Gilbert whispered, voice harsh and rasping. The voice, Ludwig knew, that he used when he was trying not to cry. Gilbert never cried. Never. "They took him! He's gone!"
And Ludwig could find no words in his ten-year-old vocabulary that could express how he felt. The room was silent.
End: Prologue
Author's Note: So, this is a little side project I'm working on! For all of my readers of "And the World Comes Crashing Down", that one takes precedence, but when this idea came into my head I just couldn't resist! What do you guys think? Please review!