Deadly Daughters

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Summary

In a society not segregated by skin color or social class but by DNA and species; a scientist with a god complex, has created the most powerful weapons the world has ever seen known as "Daughters". Contracted out to the highest bidder regardless of consequences, what happens when these weapons have hearts and minds of their own?

Status:
Ongoing
Chapters:
3
Rating:
5.0 1 review
Age Rating:
18+

With A Bang

The dream always starts the same... with a bang.

She can never see faces but she can hear the screams, smell the blood, and smoke, taste the death in the air. Having felt the tremors of the unexpected breach continue under her feet. She knows that she is useless, from her side of the compound she would never get to the labs, research, and containment buildings in time. Too many delaying obstacles and unknowns in her way. She knows that she can't help anyone and be able to get out of the compound unnoticed. Thinking quickly and without hesitation, her mind already made up, she’s off moving, heart racing in her chest. Seizing what she knows is her only chance. Amidst the chaos that was once her home, no not home, she thinks bitterly to herself, what was instead her prison, no one will notice her slip away.
Grabbing the small tactical backpack off the peg from its resting spot behind her door. She hurriedly gathers and organizes the essentials that she had already preplanned and accounted for into the now open bag, while also checking all items off on her mental list; in case this day ever did come she always needed to be ready. Planning out and placing everything within her small room right where it needed to be when the time came to run. When the compound was too distracted putting out fires and making sure the experiments, more dangerous than her, don't get out.
Once satisfied that she had gathered and mentally logged everything she needed, she pauses and takes one last look over her room. All her green and vibrant plants, some species with so much power, medicinally and supernaturally, it was a wonder she was allowed to have them.
Thinking about Dmitri’s more synthetically critical mind; he probably thought that anything not made in his high-tech dark money labs wouldn’t be significant and therefore not viewed as a contraband. It’s also not in his practice to let his pets learn about anything other than combat/field strategy training, psychological manipulation and so on. They were all taught knowledge about infiltrating and eliminating targets, any skill that would help the daughters advance the mad doctors and who paid for his weapons do their job discreetly and efficiently.
We creations known as “daughters” were not warranted the privilege of learning subjects for our own interests. Not unless you had proven your loyalty with years of putting Dmitri’s vision first. No matter the mission you were given, you had to complete it or die trying. The mission’s specifically given to his daughters for their individualized skills and features, the skills and features that Dimitri himself biogenetically engineered for each daughter to possess. Making them each a deadly weapon wrapped up in pretty and pleasing to the sense’s packages.
Her plants were a sign that she had did her time and proved that she deserved the privileges she was granted; they were the one bit of color she was given against the cold sterile white walls, which were the entire make up the fortress.
At the sight of having to leave them behind she feels a tightness in her chest, turning her back to the few things that showed any individuality amongst the prison. In her wake of leaving her room she throws a few items in a disarray and disrupts the quiet order making it look as though she at least was perhaps ambushed. A struggle ensuing but is now otherwise gone.
Using the advantage of the down cameras purposely positioned around the entire compound, only knowing they were down because the slight hum her enhanced hearing could usually pick up was absent as she peaked around her quarter’s threshold. Once confident that the corridor was clear and knowing she had about 12 minutes before the techs would get the generators back up and running. Therefore, bringing the cameras back online, she needs to pick up her pace. She’s then running making light but swift footsteps to freedom. Heart pounding in her ears, lungs on fire, eyes watering from the wind meeting her bare face as she escapes the compound from an unsecured emergency access door away from where the compound seemed to have the most damage.
Eyes meeting the sky in what feels like forever she is off only sticking to the shadows and using the power outage to move like a hunting cat to the outer walls and over the reses wall with ease. Her pulse racing, she knows she probably only had seconds left before the generators where back up; she makes it to the cover of the woods. She's too afraid to look back. Further, further, the distance between her and her prison is getting larger. The smell of smoke and death are being replaced with the smell of earth and trees. She’s starts to slow her pace, taking in the world around her. Something's off. She should have woken up in a violent sweat and choking on her screams by now.
Same dream every night for the past 8 months since her mother’s death. She’s never made it this far. She’s always caught, just when she starts to slow, thinking she’s made it far enough from the compound the shadows start to move with a life of their own-they’ve found her. She stops completely; closes her eyes and listens, reaching out with all her senses. Still nothing, just complete quiet, complete peace. She focuses and the world comes alive. She can sense a deer fifty yards to her right. A mole below the earth making an addition to a network of tunnels. She smells the stream before she can hear it; flowing with life. She can't believe this is real; she’s free.
“Sofija" she says out loud, testing her voice.
She pinches her cheeks testing to make sure she’s not dreaming one last time.
“Sonavabitch.”
Smiling she takes off running, oh how she loves the feeling of freedom that comes with running, especially when you know you’re not being chased. A peaceful relief washes over her as she turns south, in the direction of the stream she can almost taste.
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