I can hear them. They’re close now, too close. 

Right now I wish I was as far away from them as I could get. I wish that I knew my parents. Were these my last moments? I imangined the life I could have had: higher education, university, a job. I snapped from my reverie, I’m here on this roof and I must face them alone I must fight to be free of the Scientists that had probed me, tested me for all my known life. I must fight, or die, atop Number One Canada Square. Whilst the world watches the Roof on glistening screens. Whilst news reporters are gabbling a story, my story. It started alone and must end, alone.

The constant hum of chopper blades resonating around my head gave a gentle mesmerising tone to the world. The news team inside the helicopter swept their huge light, glancing it across the roof, like a knife in the darkened sky. My thoughts were interrupted by the doors of the roof bursting from their hinges; they lay shattered like the rest of my life. It was time to end this vividly real nightmare that was my life. Time to kill the thugs of the Laboratories: they wanted me back, I was their property, I had escaped.

The harsh winter wind tugged my hair and blew it into my face I silently wiped it from my eyes.  Its deep black was a contrast to the pallid skin of my cheeks, cold-streaked and bitter. My clothes stuck to my cold body saturated with freezing rain, they too the deepest black, the only thing that is constant in my life, darkness.

 I stepped down to the roof below.  It was time to end this.

Then they came. Hordes of Grunts , the thugs hired to bring me back. The red fist emblem emblazoned on their chests. No faces were visible through black hoods; they almost blended with the night except for the fist insignia. No emotions were there it was as if they no soul, but they wished to imprision mine, again. I was not going back to those laboratories, the fear, the loneliness. Because of them I was feral, wild as the raging wind.