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There are four of them at first. Four, and one more in a shirt that reads CELL like the others, but his hair is black all over and his eyes are grey and staring.
Then the tall cell with the sword bursts through the window and the ones dressed all in black kick down the door and there are screams and blood and his brother grabs his arm and hisses run! and there are two of them running, and one lying limp on the ground with his neck snapped, and one sliced in half. Two dead. Two left. Two running. It all happens so quickly.
Then his brother trips and falls and the one left standing, who does not know his own name yet, who does not understand what they mean by buggy bastard and copying error, all he can do is hide. He buries his head in his hands, in the strands and tendrils that branch out from them to cover him, and does his best not to cry out when he hears the screams.
And then…
“There’s one left!” one of the cells in black is shouting. “Find it no matter what, and kill it!”
“Yes, sir!” the other three in black reply. The one dressed all in white nods, adjusting the brim of his cap. The blond-haired cell grins, and draws his sword.
The six of them split off into pairs, each couple heading in a different direction. Two of them pass right by the dark corner where the small cell crouches motionless, not daring even to breathe. He knows they’ll find him if he stays here, he has to get out, but how? Where can he go?
The only place they won’t be looking is back the way he came. He doesn’t want to see the bodies of his twins again, but there’s no other option. He edges over to the turn in the corridor, back pressed against the wall, and peers round.
No one alive in sight. Only a small crumpled shape lying still in a sticky red pool. He looks away from it, whispering apologies as he passes.
I couldn’t stop them. I wanted to. I’m sorry I let you die like that. Alone like that.
He freezes in the doorway of the room where he was born, seeing movement. Are there more of them? But no, it’s the cell with the dark hair, the one who didn’t fight. The one who made the copying error. He’s sitting curled up on the bed with his head in his hands.
Is he hurt?
“A-are you okay?” The little cell takes a tentative step into the room. The one on the bed looks up, and his mouth drops open.
“Did they -” hurt you? the young cell means to ask, but he’s cut off when something flies past his face, grazing his cheek. A pair of scissors. The older cell picked them up from the table beside the bed and threw them, and now he stands up on the bed and grabs the table itself, sending everything on it cascading to the floor as he raises it like a shield.
“Stay away from me! ” he screams, and the smaller cell backs away, raising his hands.
“I – I’m sorry,” he stammers, not knowing what to be sorry for. There’s glass on the floor, and he steps on a piece of it and bends to pick it up, looking over at the broken machine that it came from. The sight of it makes something twist deep inside him, an urgent, insistent pulling. There’s something important about it. There’s something he needs to do.
“Don’t touch that!” The table flies over his head, smashing against the wall behind him. He turns back to the other cell, who’s now picked up a blanket and is trying to wield it like a whip, despite the fact that he’s still standing on one end of it.
“Stop yelling !” the younger cell hisses, eyes darting to the open doorway. “They’ll hear you! They’ll kill us!”
“What?” The older cell laughs, incredulous, even lowering the blanket a little in his surprise. “Why would they kill me? You’re the freaking cancer cell!”
The younger cell blinks. “...I’m what?”
“Hah!” Both cells spin round to see the tall blond one standing in the doorway, his sword raised. “Playing the innocent’s not going to work on us, you little brat!”
“NK Cell!” the older cell exclaims, face brightening with relief.
The blond – NK Cell brings his blade around in a sweeping arc that barely misses the younger cell’s neck as he throws himself backward, rolling as he falls to take shelter behind the broken table. (Cancer cell. He is a cancer cell, whatever that means. It is an ugly-sounding name and it makes people want to kill him, but he knows it now.) There’s a sound of running footsteps and the other five cells burst into the room. NK strides forward, kicking aside the table. “I’ve got this, boys!” he tells the others with a smirk, glancing back over his shoulder. “He’s – woah!”
He yells in surprise and falls forward as Cancer Cell darts between his legs, heading for the door. But of course the other five are right there waiting for him. One of the black-clad cells grabs the collar of his shirt and slams him against the wall, wrapping a hand around his throat. “Nice try,” he sneers, his grip tightening as Cancer Cell squirms and kicks. “You’re not getting away from us again!”
The world starts to spin, going darker at the edges. The word KILL on the other cell’s cap seems to glow, vivid white against the black. Cancer Cell’s fingers scrabble at the wall, his body instinctively trying to brace itself, push back against the hand crushing the life out of him.
The wall -
- the wall is weaker than it looks. He knows this, somehow, the same way he knows that the tube in the centre of the room is important, something he needs. He can reach into the wall, extend himself through it. Break it down. Throw his attacker off balance that way. It’s his only chance.
“Killer T!” the cell in white shouts. (White Blood Cell, the writing on his cap reads.) “He’s trying to infiltrate -”
“- shit! ” Killer T wrenches Cancer Cell away from the wall, flinging him across the room to land hard beside the bed. The cell who made him yelps in fright, still brandishing his makeshift weapon. Cancer Cell struggles to his feet, gasping. There’s no time to catch his breath. Another Killer T is already charging at him, fist raised.
Cancer Cell reaches behind himself and grabs the older cell’s blanket, ducks and sidesteps as the blow comes down and pulls, hard. His creator falls, tangled in the fabric, crashing into the Killer T, and the two of them stagger backward into the others. Cancer Cell doesn’t wait to see what happens next. He's already sprinting for the only other exit.
He leaps through the broken window and falls headlong into the street. Another painful landing. “After him! ” somebody yells from above, and he's up and running, turning corners at random, racing down narrow side streets with no idea where he can go except away. He can hear angry voices behind him, getting louder.
But then there are voices ahead of him, too. High, childish voices all chanting in unison.
“Heave-ho, heave-ho… ”
A group of small cells rounds the corner in front of him, carrying a huge bundle between them. The leader of their group waves a flag, directing them forward. Her cap reads Platelet.
She sees Cancer Cell standing there and waves to him, smiling. “Oh, hi! Who are you?”
“Hide me! ” Cancer Cell blurts out, rushing past her to duck beneath the enormous parcel that the others are holding (fibrin, according to a label on the side). He barely makes it. The moment he's under there, the gang of cells chasing him appears from a side street.
“Damn it, which way – ?” a Killer T snarls.
“Big brother!” the platelet leader calls, waving enthusiastically. The rest of them join in the greeting. Cancer Cell freezes in terror. Big brother? This is it, then. He's cornered. They'll tear him apart, just like the others.
“Can you pick me up again?” one of the platelets asks.
“Uh – not right now, kiddo,” the Killer T at the head of the group says. He's the one who had his hand around Cancer Cell’s throat not so long ago, but now he doesn't even sound like the same cell, his voice is so much softer. “We're hunting a really dangerous enemy. You didn’t see him come this way, did you?”
Cancer Cell doesn’t dare move.
The platelets glance at one another. Then, unbelievably, they all shake their heads.
“Oh shi- shoot,” Killer T mutters, turning to the others. “We lost him.”
“He might have doubled back again,” another Killer T suggests.
“He can't have gone far!” NK says, already heading for a nearby alley. “Bet you I catch him first~”
“Da- darn it, NK, this is serious,” the lead Killer T snaps, but then looks at the platelets and seems to catch himself before saying anything else. He runs after NK, the others following behind.
Once they’re gone, the platelet leader bends down to look under the bundle of fibrin. “Are you okay? You can come out now!”
Cancer Cell nods. He wants to tell her thank you, thank you so much, but he's shaking too hard to speak. Which is lucky, because the next thing she says, all innocently, makes his insides turn cold.
“Was the bad guy chasing you? You don't have to be scared! Those immune cells are going to catch him!”
“Yeah!” another platelet chimes in. “They're all really strong! They protect everybody from germs that wanna kill us and take all our nutrients and stuff. So you’re safe, as long as they're around.”
“I…” Cancer Cell crawls out from under the fibrin and stands, shakily. There's a weird rushing sound in his ears. “I h-have to go.”
“Okay!” the platelet leader calls after him as he runs, sounding confused (but not suspicious, he hopes. He hopes.) “Bye-bye! See you later!”
He finds an empty cell apartment. Your new life begins at telophase! the banner outside tells him.
The manual for the dividing machine is heavy. He turns to the chapter titled Abnormalities first, hands trembling.
He reads it again.
And again.
And then he is kneeling curled up on the floor with his arms covering his head and his chest hurts and his throat hurts and he can not stop crying, terrible heaving sobs that surely someone is going to hear and come to finally destroy him. This appalling disaster that he is. A mistake that can end the world.
Will end the world, unless they kill him first. There's no other alternative for him. One way or another, he's fated to die.
He tries to stand. Maybe the immune cells are still around. He can just walk into the street and let them find him. Maybe there's a sharp knife in the kitchen.
But he doesn't have the strength to get up. All he can do is cry, and in the end even the energy for that deserts him. He lies on the floor, staring into nothing.
He’s so alone. He doesn't want to die alone like this.
He doesn't want to die, at all. He never even had a chance to live, and this is all he'll be. A useless, forgotten mistake.
It's not fair.
It's not fair.
Something new wells up inside him. A burning, surging fury, pushing through his despair.
Why does he have to die? Why should he? Why give a damn about what happens to this world that made him only to be killed?
Those immune cells who hunted him down like he was nothing, just a defect, a bug…
Who the hell do they think they are?
He stands. His hands are steady now as he turns back to the manual, flips to the first page, reads over the instructions. And then firmly places one hand on the panel at the side of the dividing machine, letting it read every strand of his broken, messed up, garbage DNA.
Relief washes over him. This is what he needed. The corners of his mouth ache, and he realises he's smiling for the first time in his life, hollow laughter bubbling up inside his throat.
He's the only one left. But soon enough, there'll be two of him. Then four. Eight. Sixteen. Thirty-two. Sixty-four. A hundred and twenty-eight…
All right, you bastards. You all think six against one sounds fair?
Let's see how you like it.