Amanda

A crack of a twig and the rustle of trees were the only noises that filled the otherwise silent night air. That was how she liked it. She being Amanda, the one thing everybody feared. The one thing that would be the downfall of society. They, being oblivious to everything, simply didn't realize it yet.

Amanda ran her pale hand along the bark of a tree that lined against the edge of the forest. She awaited the sun to rise so she could venture out, pretending to be a normal teen. However, Amanda wasn't normal. Far from it. Though she didn't have any superpowers or special gadgets, she had a superb mind. A mind that would haunt thousands of people for years to come.

The hiss of a bus coming to a stop rang off into the horizon. Amanda's blonde hair obscured her vision as the wind blew it into her face. She reached down to grab a brown messenger bag that was propped up against the nearest tree. Her long legs limited her strides to the bus. Her once harsh, intent eyes shed to those soft, hazel eyes everyone had grown to love. Everyone loved Amanda Jackson.

Amanda took a seat to herself on the bus. She took her blonde hair and scrunched it into a yellow pony tail as she smirked out of the window. The last day of high school had approached, was there. The bus shook with rowdy laughter and screams, but Amanda seemed unaware of anything around her. She closed her eyes, gathered her thoughts, and took a deep breath. When she emerged from her mind, the bus was approaching the school.

Eight hours later, a ring of a bell soared through the air. Every senior and freshman alike burst through the doors with excitement. Running, screaming, joy. Every cheerful teen eager to escape. All, except Amanda, who was striding along slow, lagging behind the rest. She pulled her ponytail out of her hair, letting it flow behind her. For everyone else, the only thing beginning was his or her summer. For Amanda, the one thing beginning was her life.

Instead of taking the bus, she decided to walk back to the woods, allowing her time to think away from all of the noise. When she got back, she ran her hands through her hair. She dropped her bag down against a tree as her slow, preppy walk morphed into a brisk, busy jog. She headed deeper and deeper into the woods, being embraced by the darkness. A sudden flash of light to her left grabbed Amanda’s attention. She turned and headed towards the source.

“Do you have it?” a raspy voice uttered, submerged in the darkness.

Amanda stared intently at the shadowed figure standing before her. She had a look of suspicion.

“Reveal yourself!” she demanded, determined not to be fooled.

The voice chuckled. Another flash of light lingered for a few seconds, highlighting the features of a man’s face. Amanda’s face relaxed slightly.

“Yeah, I’ve got it.” She pulled a small baggy out of her pocket.

The outline of the hand reached out and took it. The man examined it’s contents with much care, before shoving it back to Amanda.

“Perfect.” He mumbled.

“I figured and hoped you would think so.” Amanda grinned.

“I expect you know what to do next.” The voice expected.

“Yes, master.” She lied, careful not to blink.

“Well, go to it, then.” He proclaimed, turning away from her.

Amanda sighed deeply, turning and walking away with great difficulty. Amanda had recently received a sharp blow to the head during one of her fights with the government. During the day, she was Amanda Jackson, the perfect, model teenager. But at night, she was Amanda Jackson, wanted in all 50 states for murder, stealing, and treason. That sharp blow to the head had distorted her memory to the slightest.

Amanda emerged into the light. Off into the distance, a few guys from the football team egged the Principal’s house. Amanda took no notice. Instead, she pulled out the bag again to examine its contents more carefully. A piece of hair, a piece of DNA from the school bully, soon to be labeled “subject 390”.

Amanda walked back between the houses until her feet met sidewalk. Her eyes dodged all distractions in her path. She was intent on keeping her gaze forward and down. She sat down on the curb, right above the sewer. When the stream of passers-by had ceased, Amanda stood and kicked the sewer 3 times, all 1.5 seconds apart. She recoiled slightly as the sewer top removed itself, revealing a long slide. She slid down and landed quite gracefully.

She had landed in what appeared to be a factory in which made electronics. Her memory did not recall such surroundings, but a familiar buzz swam in her head. She walked over to a window. At first, she thought that it was simply a wall that had been realistically painted on. After the second glance, she realized she was staring into a room of many robots, immobile in their stances. Amanda showed no emotion on the outside, though her mind filled with questions.

A hand rested on her shoulder. Amanda looks up at a man who was extremely tall.

“Hello, Uncle Nepto.” Amanda said.
“Amanda. How nice to see you! I’ve missed you so. I would hope your parents, including my sister, are well?” he asked.

“My mother and father perished last spring. The government was catching up. Murder suicide situation. You know how that goes.” Amanda forced out.

“That is…quite unfortunate.” Nepto said unconvincing, though his grip on her shoulder tightened comforting.

“Yes, well, never mind that now. I expect you have a plan?” Amanda wondered aloud.

“Of course.” Nepto snatched the DNA out of Amanda’s hand.

Without a word, Nepto led Amanda over a large, red machine. He removed the hair from it’s container and placed it onto a tray. He flipped a switch and after a large bang, resting neatly on the tray were two, long, identical hairs. Amanda didn’t seem impressed. Nepto grabbed one of the hairs and walked into the room with all of the robots. Amanda started to follow.

“No, Amanda, observe from the window.” Nepto ordered.

Amanda said nothing, but strode over to the window and peered down. Nepto walked over to the nearest robot and inserted the hair into the robot’s slightly ajared mouth. The robot suddenly came to life. It’s arm released a jet of fire that hit Nepto square in the chest. Nepto stumbled slightly before falling, laying motionless, face down.

“Uncle!” Cried Amanda as she ran down to him.

Nepto was dead.

Amanda kicked the murdering robot in its metal leg. The robot stopped mid-fire, broken. Amanda’s face intently stared at the rest of the motionless room as she realized she had to carry out the job by herself. The world was hers, no sharing. She realized, slowly, that was how she liked it.

Hours later, after the sun had sunk and risen once more, Amanda had cloned and inserted one hair into each of the robots. She recalled some tips on how to stay out of their line of fire, which allowed her not to get hit during the course of the night.

Amanda trailed back into the safe room and crashed onto a chair. She continued to nod in and out of sleep, before finally falling into a deep slumber. She awoke a mear hour later to find the robot room empty, a big hole in the wall below.

Rapidly, Amanda ran down to look at the hole. It had been hit with a fireball. Or, as the hole seemed to tell, many fireballs. The remaining wall was singed. Outside, Amanda viewed the scene. Smoke obscured her vision to the point where she almost didn’t see an enormous fireball headed straight towards her. She ducked just in time to where it only skimmed the top of her head. No damage.

Amanda coughed from the smoke intake. Too much. She saw the outline of one of the robots blast a hole into a house. She ran to inspect more and she tripped over a body. She looked down to find the corpse of her friend, Ginger. Ginger had, like the rest, not known Amanda’s true identity, but she had been a friend to confide in. Amanda kicked the ground in anger. This was out of control! She ran back into the building she had previously resided in and recoiled into the robot room once more.

A little boy appeared from behind a pile of rubble. His face was smudged with dirt. He was standing outside the robot room, staring at Amanda. His little hand rose, one miniscuel finger pointing at Amanda. He uttered “MONSTER” before a large fireball hit him in the back. The little boy keeled over, dead.

Amanda gasped. She thought she would have control over the robots. Instead the machines rampaged, killing innocent bistandards.

At the cry, “Monster”, things went silent. All human beings and robots alike stopped to stare at Amanda.

“You!” A woman cried, furiously, “You have bestowed this evil upon us! My husband is dead because of you!”

“No! You don’t understand! I thought I’d have control over them! I would never want this.” Amanda tried to explain, stepping towards the baffled crowd.

“Not a step more!” a man yelled.

Amanda looked. The man had a gun pointed at her head.

A loud bang engulfed the silence. Amanda lay, dead. Modern day technolodgy had risen above the futuristic destruction the robots brought. Amanda, however, was no longer alive to control the robots to the slightest. So, naturally, the robots, to this day, bring terror among the citizens of Earth.