Chapter 3 Back Then
Disclaimer: I don't own Young Justice
Jack POW
On a highway that wasn't particular interesting, spars trees and some fields, I managed to hitch a ride from this trucker. It's been ten minutes and forty more until I get to the place I want to go. This now makes the fourth driver that has let me hitch-hick, out of 79,456,235 that just drove by past me. I was occupied at staring at passing by cars and cows, yeah, in other words I am bored.
"Where you from?", the trucker said suddenly, he was actually skinny, a bit old, and has a long grey pony tail.
"Hmm?Oh! I'm from New York."
"So where you heading?"
"Planning go to Happy Harbor, I have family there."
I lied, I don't have any family, my mom is dead and the only biological member is someone I never want to meet. I sometimes think I'm paranoid because I always think he's out to get me. I just that's why I keep on traveling to random places, and why I'm always broke.
"Your a teen traveling by yourself?"
"I'm pretty independent."
"I'd hate to seem like a cop but where's your mom and dad?"
"My mom is dead and I don't know my father, I stay with my aunt."
"I'm sorry 'bout your parents, I didn't know my dad either."
Inside I was cringing that I would call him my father, but it was the truth, I never meet him. I don't want to meet him because I don't know what he would do. He's supposed to be a first class psychopath that thinks killing is all good and fun. If we did meet, then would I have to be forced to go with him or something else.
I also wonder if I would ever be like him. Would I just replace him? Would I go insane one day, or am I already crazy?Would I be worst than him? Am I going to keep asking question all the time? Another one is that one day I would look in the mirror as a adult and look exactly like him, not the lips or the smile, but a lot like him. I know why I was cloned, the entire project was called "Legacy". I not sure, but I think that they wanted to carry out their legacy. Their line of heirs and soldiers for the future.
We kind of ended the conversation there, I pulled a picture out of my pocket. It was a picture of my mom from five years ago. It was crumpled a bit from some of my first nights on the street squeezing it to sleep through the nights. It showed her smiling with her hair in a ponytail with many stands falling out. She wears a white shirt, highlighting her black hair. Her bright brown eyes looking at me. I decided on a last name last year, Zachurr, it was her last name.
I put my right arm on the windowsill and daydreamed from there, in a trance from looking at the gradually urban area. My left hand holding my picture of my mom.
A circular room in white with a padded floor showed two people sparring. To be exact a kid and a adult. They both wore loose cloths and white linen cloths wrapped around hands and feet. Everything about the place and cloths were sterile. The man was the boy's combat trainer, the best money could buy. He had a muscular and lean build, a shaven head, brown eyes, and a square jaw. He was very flexible and calm despite his appearance.
The kid was a boy the age of ten. Dark green eyes and a focused face. He had green hair that was cut short so that a ID tattoo was showed to say "Clone2Ex J Property of GenL" on the back of his neck. A lean and healthy build, the boy was very lethal in fighting.
The boy side-kicked the man, the man grabbed the boy's foot and threw him over. The boy used the momentum of the throw to jump off the ground and punch the man.
Before the man could act the boy pushed off the back and the man fell face down. The boy stood on the man's back and had one hand on the man's throat and the other pulled back for a punch.
"That is enough for today.", the man said. The boy got off him and the man stood up. They bowed and the man left the room, as he was walking out a scientist with dark glasses and a clean, dark, slick cut lead the boy out. This was a very rare occasion were the boy can leave his cell room. The boy knew what he had to do, a already set up off his uniform was on a bench. A synthetic black sleeved jacket and black pants to the boy was done suited up the man gave him a picture.
It was a distorted picture of a woman, but the boy can tell who to find. The address was at the bottom and the boy has memorized almost all streets in the county.
"Your mission is to eliminate this woman", he ordered.
"Yes sir."
The same boy found himself after that night in a alleyway stumbling against the wall. Sirens were wailing and people yelling and even the occasional gunshot. However, those were all oblivious to his mind. The boy in the same uniform holding in one hand his mask. Both of his hands were bloody. He was sobbing with big red eyes streaking with tears.
His mind was replaying his onslaught on the scientists, workers, guards. For his handler that treated him so bad, he reapeatly banged his head on a metal bar even when he died. In one wing he released a terrible toxin that suffocated the workers. Stabbing and shooting, he hit with deadly accuracy for parts of the face, but that wasn't the worse part of the murders.
He laughed, he couldn't stop, he was laughing like a madman while killing people. He remembered every single murder of all of the people with horrible laughing in the background. He threw up a bit near a dumpster, he spat out what was left of what he ate. He just wanted to die, the boy curled up in a card board box near the wall. He took out a picture from his pockets. It made him a better, but then caused even more tears.
His mom looking at him with a soft expression. He held on to it for the rest of the night and for many more.
"Were here," the guy spoke. That defiantly got me up, I stuff my picture of mom inside my pocket and open the door. I grabbed my duffel bag and slid out. "Thanks," I said as I slid out. I guessed I have a mile before I get there, I can see a harbor and a mountain, the information I got from Vincent showed a picture of what the place looks likes.
"No problem, take care now," He started his truck and even waved a bit, I waved a bit too. Now I have to walk for a mile, then I'm in Happy Harbor.
end POW
Author's Note: Am I writing to short? I can try to do 2500 or 3000 words, and also is this going too fast? Reply
Random: I wonder what will happen if you say you own something on fanfic, I bet you would get into lawsuits or something...
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