• From all angles, these lanky streets were pretty pathetic to look at. It was the perfect disguise for us experiments, really. I mean, despite our dangerous street hobbies and the area we choose to live, the Gamri’s were secretly one of the richest families to exist on the face of this planet.
    For any that knew about us and what we do, they often wondered why we choose to reside in the darkest of areas. Certainly we could afford to move up in status by will. I leaned my head back against one of the most abandoned alleyway walls as I thought of one of the many random responses Gamri G brought up whenever we were asked about it: “There’s a lady who’s sure all that glitters is gold,” his cheerful voice would chirp. Then only a few of us would actually understand what he said later on.
    “Only the fools think all the riches bring satisfaction,” came a familiar voice from beside me. I chuckled before even considering to look at the mirror image of myself; beside me stood Marcy Gamri Experiment II, or in Federal terms: Experiment B. Many made sure that I stuck it to my head that I looked like her and not the other away around. We were not twins; I was made in a lab. My creator was Emi Gamri Experiment I or Experiment B; and though she held the same idea as the rest, Emi was the nicest Gamri I’ve ever known.
    I spat a single stream of saliva down by the rubbish being swarmed by a family of rats. A single rat looked up at me with its golden eyes before returning to the trash in hopes of finding a good piece of wasted food. It was then that I decided to notice my mainframe with effort, “Quite curious to know if you can stay out of my thoughts for once, you know?”
    Marcy took a swat at my shoulder; I simply moved with the blow and acted as if it hadn’t hurt at all. Reacting to physical touch has never really been my strong point, a glitch perhaps in my formation. “Now you know that’s not possible,” she said, holding her hand out in a beckoning way, “Spot me one, will ya?”
    I decided to be nice and dug my hand down my pocket for the pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Handing her one, I even offered to light it, deciding not to enjoy one at this moment myself. “Isn’t it a little risky with that guy running after you?” I asked, perking my ears up to remind myself that the sounds of sirens were echoing amongst our streets again.
    Marcy merely shrugged, “Can’t fight efficiently without a smoke or two,” she smacked my shoulder again, this time to show a buddy-buddy tone to her melancholy voice, “You should know that, now.” I chuckled again, tilting my head away to watch the swarm of rats devour a discovered rotting pork rib.
    “When you were young,” choosing my words carefully, I decided to change the topic, “It seemed that life was so wonderful. Right?” Marcy gave a chuckle; I could tell she was observing me as I thought about how much of a pain it was to have to refer to her as a superior. She knew about these thoughts, of course, but never really made an effort to comment about them. It was as if she were fascinated about me, fascinated about me thinking about her this very moment.
    “It’s not worth thinking about,” she said. Unlike her, I could not hear nor see what she thought. It was in her eyes, that I could tell she was thinking about a memory however.
    “Shouldn’t say that,” I began snottily, “If you can’t manage to follow it yourself.” Marcy gave me a glare, and for a second I thought she’d hit me again, give me a bruise to think about later in the week. Instead, she decided to go for a more drastic measure and smothered the end of her cigarette into me.
    I watched it as it remained dug in my skin, already knowing fully well that in the few seconds it took for me to comprehend that it hurt like hell, that I still lacked the response to swat it away with just the thought of it touching me. Then came the searing pain of burning tobacco scalding my bare flesh; my whole body flared in reaction: it was if I were standing on my toes, the hairs on the back of my neck stood in horrid pain.
    By then I had mustered up the thought to hit it away and did so, holding onto my scarred arm the moment the cigarette went flying to the ground. I breathed out a huff of insult and looked at Marcy angrily; she was again observing me, and clearly enjoying my pain. “What the Hell’d you do that for?”
    “So great to know what I’d do in response,” she simply said.
    “That hurt, Marcy!” I growled. She turned away and snickered. I figured this’d be how she’d respond. I was about to bash her for it too; that was before the chopping blades of a helicopter were heard cutting at the air above. We both looked up, a spotlight extended onto the alleyway strip we weren’t located at.
    Marcy shuffled closer to me in response; as she did, the spotlight rotated so that it grew nearer, smoothly seeking its prey amongst the many alleyways. Again, she chuckled in amusement, “Way to go,” she said mockingly, “Great thing to call my name out when the cops are after me.”
    I huffed angrily in response. “Next time think your torture through,” I snapped, “I’ll be sure to call you lots of other names while you’re at it.” I knew I wouldn’t get a pleasant response from this. Marcy pierced a glare of pure fiery through me, a look that rarely anyone saw unless they were about to witness something unthinkable.
    The spotlight grew nearer; I could see the anger in her calculating a great way to inflict damage on me. My reaction time wouldn’t let me run; her hands grabbed at my forearm a second later, a viewable source of why I thought the hold was harsh.
    Where then she threw me into the rays of white light, the sounds of numerous high pitch explosions panged all around me in less than a second later. I found myself on the ground, looking out at the golden-eyed rat that looked up at me before. Being the only one of its family not to run, it chewed on a bullet, hoping that it contained a delicious nut.
    The stinging of the many of my wounds suddenly found its place amongst nature; my fading vision picked up on the red liquid that found its place along a disturbance on my smooth skin. A puddle soaked the ground where I lay, it tucking beneath me as I watched the rat put down its metallic nut. The golden-eyed rat neared the edge of the puddle before stopping to lap some of it up. Its whiskers twitched in aggravation, I could see that its mouth was drenched in more than the foul street water, “No…” I heard myself think, an echo of fading speech, “Don’t drink that water… there’s blood in the water.”
    The clatter of boots, chains and voices rang along with the uprising hiss I could not put out of my head. It drowned out the soft advice within my head. My eyes tilted upward to meet several pairs of strict eyes, their jerky handling told me they were police. Naturally I would’ve mistrusted the police; it was all due to the Gamri mind. Yet I realized I must be dying for I could not move; them firing upon me was a lethal blow to my life span. If they were to preserve my life, and I hoped they did at this point, I’d be able to reveal the Gamri’s for the murderous experimenters they are.