Sins of the Past

A follow-up to False Child.

How much longer can he hold out?

Tatiana’s next kick caught Stray in the midsection. He collapsed against a nearby oven, gasping for breath even as his feet scrabbled for purchase on the bare kitchen floor. She didn’t wait for him to get back up. In an instant she was on top of him, raining blows down on his head. As he twisted to slip away she caught a glimpse of his eyes, wild and desperate. Like an animal.

But of course. Lensky’s abomination—the creature he’d forced her to give birth to—had never been human. Just another one of Lensky’s damnable experiments. Another burden she’d been forced to endure.

He came at her now, pummeling at her with his fists. The blows hammered against the body armor beneath her coat, forcing her to give ground. Her fighting instincts urged her to fall back rather than keep fighting in close quarters like this. But those tactics had been honed for a different woman, a different body. With the Syndicate’s augmentations she could match Stray blow for blow.

''He’s sick. Dying.'' Just like all the clones who’d come after him, Stray had an expiration date. And if he wanted to go out before that time was up, then Tatiana was happy to oblige. ''I won’t let you reach Arthur. I won’t let you reach Helen. You won’t hurt anyone ever again.''

The thought filled her with strength. She pushed back, braving his strikes to plant a knee in his chest. The impact ached even through her knee-guard, but Stray reeled back all the same. His armor was in tatters. The effort to just fight his way this far was enough to leave him on the brink of death. All Tatiana had to do was finish the job.

They clashed again, exchanging blows, slamming each other into counters, ovens, anything to throw the other off balance, to break their focus. A kitchen knife appeared in Stray’s hand, slashing a shallow cut across Tatiana’s cheek. In the next instant she had his wrist in an iron grip, flipping the knife around and driving it back towards Stray’s throat. The creature snarled and writhed, twisting away just in time to avoid the oncoming blade. In the next instant he was up again, punching and kicking with reckless abandon.

Why was he coming back to haunt them all now? Why couldn’t he just lie down and die? After everything she’d done to make the Created victory a reality, why couldn’t this monster just fade away like all the others and let her be? Hatred stirred in her heart, hatred she’d thought she’d let go. Even after everything, Lensky and his creatures did everything they could to drag her down with them.

Don’t let personal feelings get in the way, David Kahn had taught her. But Kahn was dead. Venter was dead. All those who’d ever thought to oppose the Syndicate and the Created were gone thanks to her. All she had left to do was erase Lensky and all the evil he’d wrought and then she could rest.

And if her hatred helped her do that, so much the better.

How much longer can I go?

Pain echoed through every muscle in Stray’s body. His arms, his legs, his chest, everything was on fire, begging him to simply let go. To give up. To let Tatiana win. Let her kill him and put an end to all of this suffering.

Instead he gritted his teeth, throat pulsing with an inhuman snarl as he fought on. No matter the pain, he had to keep fighting. Fight on. Kill the woman in front of him. Win.

A fist caught him square in the face. He tasted blood but he pushed forward, smashing his own fist into Tatiana’s gut. They staggered away from each other, panting and bleeding from dozens of wounds. He felt her hateful gaze upon him. How long since this woman had looked at him with those burning eyes?

He remembered a different kitchen, smaller and dirtier. Huddled in the corner, barely more than an infant, pleading for mercy. A sharp pain as this same woman shoved a shard of broken plate into his shoulder.

Funny, he realized dimly, struggling to stay conscious. After everything he’d been through now, that he still remembered that day. And out of a lifetime of grudges and resentments, he found himself unable to hate the person in front of him now. Out of all his enemies, he felt a strange bond with this tormentor. Sympathy. It wasn’t like him. Wasn’t like him at all. I really am dying.

But if I’m going out… He fixed his eyes on Tatiana. I’m taking you out with me.

A monster, right to the end. But his own monster. Not Lensky’s, and certainly not hers.

I should never have been born. But that, at least, wasn’t his fault. He wouldn’t let her hang him with it.

Stray surged forward into battle once again.