C h a p t e r T w e n t y - O n e
The Director stared at the screen, the look on the subjects' faces. The boy had to be terminated, he was distracting the girl from her destiny.
She realized now that Delilah was nothing more than a mistake; too obvious. She must not have listened to her Voice when she began to morph in front of the girl and boy.
But there would be no mistakes this time.
A knock at her office door interrupted her thoughts.
"Enter," she called.
A small, pale woman came through the threshold, blonde hair pulled back in a sloppy bun.
With a sigh the Director rubbed her temples and relaxed in her seat.
"What do you need, Molly?"
"Well, ma'am, um, they are finished, ma'am," she stuttered, futzing with her clipboard and pen. She avoided making eye contact.
Despite herself, the Director smiled. The boy was just a pawn in this game, and any good chess player knows that the pawns go first.
She looked at Molly, who flushed and shifted on her feet.
"Send them in, girl! What are you standing around for?"
"Yes, ma'am, my apologies, ma'am, right away, ma'am."
She watched as the young woman bustled out of the room, looking relieved to be released. The Director loved how much power she had over people, and that power would increase now since the newest hybrids were finished at last.
It was only a matter of minutes before the second knock came to her ears, and she looked up in expectation, eager to see her newest creations.
They looked magnificent, she had to admit.
And they wouldn't fail.
She had supervised the project herself, to ensure success. The two figures stood before her, looking strong and beautiful, much like the boy and his kind. But these people were made to last. Even when the rest of the population perished in the apocalypse.
"Are you ready?" She asked the subjects, eyeing them as though sizing them up for a fight.
The kids-two of many-tensed their muscles and unfurled their wings. These wings hadn't just been welded into their shoulder-blades like the late Erasers. Those had been failures. No, these were natural wings. They belonged to them, just like the boy's wings belonged on him.
"Yes, Master, we are ready."
The Director leaned forward in her chair, pressing a small button on the intercom box sitting on her desk.
"Prepare the jet. We are paying a visit to Max and her friends."
The kids smiled in anticipation, probably an exact replica of the Director's expression.
At last, it was time to eliminate the pawns.
Check-mate.