Specimen 54559

Chapter 1

   Red. It's such a common color nowadays. It always seems to be different every time I see it. Like now for instance, as I gaze upon the woman on the ground, the said color is present. But it is not like the color of the bricks that are surrounding the city. No. This not just red. It is black. It is so red that it takes the appearance of being black.

   I watch as the winged Paramedics carry the woman off on the mobile bed and onto the truck and take off down the debris littered street. I turn my attention back to the red that is now being cleaned by Specimen 62889, or Matty as I prefer to call him.

  "You did a good job, Specimen 54559," I hear the Whisper say into my ear.

  "That is not my name," I reply, still staring at the disappearing red-black spot on the cracked concrete.

   There's a slight sigh on the opposite end. "Yes, my apologizes, Lilly," the Whisper says with audible irritation. "You are done for the day. Come back at twenty-one one-hundred."

   "Yes, Whisper," I say and take the small green earpiece out of my right ear and place it in my back pocket.

   "Tough day today Lilly?" Matty asked as the last of the red is taken away by the handheld Blood Machine that he holds in his hands. I glance down at the weapon held in my own hand; the silver, double-edged sword, bearing the symbol of the West on its handle that was given to me when I had first became a Peacekeeper, sixty-three years ago. "I suppose so," I say looking back up to Matty. He is taller than I am, he being six feet and three inches and I only at a whopping five feet and four inches. His reddish-brown hair is matted down onto his forehead by sweat and the toothy grin he always wears shows off his Werewolf canines.

  "So where are you off to now that your day is done?" he asks. I pick up my shoulders and let them drop. "I don't know, Matty. I'll probably just fly around the city for a bit," I stretch out my wonderful brown hawk wings for emphasis.

  "Cool. Have fun with that Lilly," he says before turning towards Specimen 67466, Orion, another Werewolf. I assume that being the same species and both being a Fireman has really made them good friends.

  I turn, sheathing my beautiful sword, and push of the ground with a great leap from my legs and a great downward surge of my mighty wings. I feel myself become aloft in the wonderful air as my wings stretch to their full extent, allowing me to glide gracefully over the tall buildings of the city. I close my brown, bird-like eyes and let my natural routine take place, like it has every day of my life. In out in out. Up down up down. My breathing syncs with every mighty pump that my wings have to offer, taking me higher into the sky, faster and faster with each downward stroke. I can feel my brown, cat-like tail start to pull out behind me, being torn at by the glorious wind. A laugh escapes me as I think about how silly it must look and at how lucky I am to be alive and enjoying such things.

  The laugh comes to a sudden stop, caught in my throat as I recall that woman from not even more than five minutes ago, lying, bleeding on the cold hard ground of the street back in the crumbling part of the city. I had never wanted to hurt her. She was just an innocent woman, minding her own. It wasn't like she was disturbing the peace. She did nothing wrong! So why did the Whisper tell me to hurt that poor girl? I guess that that is just another question that will go unanswered. I know better than to question a direct order. The first, and the last time I had ever questioned anyone higher than me, I had received such a punishment that it had left behind a horrific scar on my left shoulder, keeping me from rising my arm more than parallel with my shoulder. It will never allow me to forget the rules.