An Inheritance of Stars

The bufferfly flaps its wings


Cricket stared at the picture in front of him and scowled, it had been pasted over a defaced mutant rights poster; the vote campaign was thoroughly “pro-human,” and against him. It wasn’t his fault, Cricket had been born in the bottom levels of City Downs, his parents had been radiated past safe limits for years before he was conceived. They had apparently called it him a miracle child, that is until they saw his stunted arms and hard chitinous patches on his skin. They had cared for him as best as they were able, but once he had begun to walk, and his patches began making chirping sounds as they rubbed, his parents had abandoned him. He had grown up scavenging for survival, and hated by his “fellow man,” that whole concept of mutant rights, and the vote was laughable. Cricket spat on the poster and continued down the corridor.

“Hey, you got something against voting?!” The owner of the voice materialized out of the shadows of an unlit side passage nearby. He was a tall, lanky youth maybe 18 years old. His shaved head, extensive tattoos, and facial piercings gave him a frightening appearance which caused Cricket to step back slightly. The youth stepped forward, an length of chain dropping into his hand. “What do you think boys? Maybe there’s a reason he’s so against the vote.”

Cricket turned to run but found that someone had stepped into the passage ahead of him. Turning,a third man was closing from behind. “I don’t want any trouble guys.” He pushed his deformed hands deeper into his pockets and shrank back against the wall.

The chain began to make a humming sound as it spun through the air. “I think trouble’s found you hombre.” The youth lashed the chain out, and it struck Cricket with punishing force, spinning as he was thrown to the ground, his hands coming from his pockets as if of their own free will to break his fall. The voice of his tormenter suddenly became darker and more threatening. “Look at his hands; he’s a mutant, a cancer in our gene-pool. What should we do about it.”

“You amputate” laughed one of the others; they all stepped forward together, evil smiles upon their faces.


Arbiters Report

The screams coming from corridor 23J were reported to have lasted for hours, however officers found no witnesses for the brutal murder of the young mutant known as Cricket, and subsequent graphic display of his remains in front of the Mutant Rights Headquarters on City Downs.

Investigation Closed pending Lack of Evidence.




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