One in a million.
Sasha had heard that statement from her parents, her lovers, her friends, and everyone else she’d ever encountered while she did her job. Though, the people she killed knew deep down that life was uneventful.
Had been uneventful. That was the whole point in joining the military. At least for my platoon. To get that satisfaction.
That feeling. That rush to find your twin so you could spend the rest of eternity in bliss.
The chances were always slim. One in a million. Because there was no pattern or trick, no strategy or mischief.
Sasha cared little for any of that junk. She believed in luck and skill. The battlefield made her live. The lives taken and added to her total fueled that love of blood craft. That satisfying crunch like snapping a person’s neck. Breaking bones, using blood, ripping throats, and plunging knives–
Sasha lived for it.
Through the trenches and after days of camping, she drudged through the debris, the bodies, and the bushes. She’d caked herself in dried blood and mud, blended into the ground and surroundings as easily as a chameleon.
She ate a lizard. She caught a fish. She scurried through a bog and into a neighboring forest. It still rained. And visibility was limited.
One in a million. Sasha thought as she shimmied herself into a comfy hole of spiders and snakes, bugs and worms–
Sasha broke a record that day. Most took years or decades. It had taken her…
One month. To find that special one in a million.
Never had Sasha been given the perfect chance for a new feeling. One meant to experience once, and only once, within the second the hatchet buried into her duplicate’s head.
And she ascended.
She finally got to live.