Fate's Eyes

By Luke Bleckly

Some people believe that fate is predestined.
That our futures are already laid out before us and we just follow it blindly, never disrupting the pre-destined path of our lives.

They are wrong.

There are two.

And Darren can see both.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris AU
• Release date: May 19, 2015
• ISBN: 9781503505636

Luke Bleckly

Luke Bleckly is a newcomer to the author game. With inspiration from Iain Banks, Brent Weeks and Terry Pratchett, he brings creative plot and entertaining wit to the realm of science fiction writing. After spending his life with numbers, Luke tried his hand at writing and found he couldn’t stop. The ideas never ceased and numerous books were quickly conceived. This trilogy is the first installment he is now sharing with the world.

Book preview

Fate’s Eyes

Luke Bleckly

Copyright © 2015 by Luke Bleckly.

ISBN:      Softcover   978-1-5035-0562-9

                eBook          978-1-5035-0563-6

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 05/19/2015

Xlibris

1-800-455-039

www.Xlibris.com.au

514001

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

Chapter 61

Chapter 62

Chapter 63

Chapter 64

Chapter 65

Chapter 66

Chapter 67

Chapter 68

Chapter 69

Chapter 70

Chapter 71

Chapter 72

Chapter 73

Chapter 74

Chapter 75

Chapter 76

Chapter 77

Chapter 78

Chapter 79

Chapter 80

Epilogue

My eternal gratitude to these three for turning my jumble of words into coherent sentences. After surviving their judgement, I feel it only fair that I do the same back.

Chris:    The Sci-Fi cynic and literal taker of humour

Mark:   The proprietor of the secret rules of grammar and tester of patience

Shana:   The relationship scrutineer and vindicator of fallen characters

Chapter 1

The silhouette of a figure passing by the window made them both look up. Darren Sivyer watched the vague outline of a potential client head towards the door to the side of their small storefront, but then looked away. The blinds were down over each window except the one beside the door, not counting the twin vertical window panes within the door itself, so it was impossible to tell who it was. Still it was unlikely to be the client they were waiting for.

He returned his gaze down to the page sitting on top of the filing cabinet he was leaning against. On the sheet of paper was his latest, and still pathetic, attempt at sketching his brother. He frowned at his latest stab at an art he knew he did not, and would never possess and added it to the pile on another cabinet beside him. It did not matter where he started; nothing ever looked like what it was supposed to be. He knew this but still it was not really himself he needed to prove it to.

Keep at it, his brother was always insisting. Can you imagine how much of an advantage it would be if you could actually draw something I could recognise?

Of course Darren understood that, but he also recognised a lost cause when one was presented to him. Like the one he was supposed to make appear on the newly retrieved blank page now in front of him yet again.

He looked at the page and then up at his twin brother. Darren was the older brother, a detail their parents had never actually told them but had become apparent around a decade ago when they had been about twelve.

They were not identical twins; that much was obvious to any that saw them. If they had been identical, his ability to draw one of them would have been highly redundant. Would he have wanted his brother looking like him anyway? Imagine if people could mistake the two of them; they might come to him for answers!

The thought unsettled Darren so much that he quickly focused his attention back on his brother. His hearted stopped for a second as he found himself looking at an identical copy of himself. It took a little over a second for him to realise he was staring at a mirror on the wall opposite him, and hurriedly drew another breath as he returned his gaze to the large desk in the middle of the rather small room.

His brother, still looking remarkably different from him, was seated in front of it and facing the door. As always he was wearing one of his many dark coloured suits. In the poor lighting of the room it was hard to tell if today’s choice was truly black or just a grey or dark blue edition. Darren did not really care, but felt certain Kaiden could have answered without needing to look down and check for himself.

People don’t notice the minor details like we do, he would explain, they take in your appearance as a complete package. If you want them to notice you, you have to provide them with an image of yourself that will impress them.

What if I don’t want them to notice me? Darren would counter.

His brother would then pause, as if unable to comprehend the question. Then your jeans and jacket, with the two…ah I see there are now three holes, work magnificently to that effect.

They both had brown hair and blue eyes, a trait that Darren always came back to when starting to doubt whether they were actually related at all. Although Darren’s own eyes were a little different. Even from a distance it was easy to spot the streaks of red shooting out of the iris, surrounding the brotherly blue. Kaiden had often remarked that his eyes reminded him of the sun, with flames dancing around the edges to cover half the whites of his eyes.

Despite living together in the quarters that adjoined their little store, Kaiden’s short hair was never seen unkempt. Unlike Darren’s bedraggled mop. Darren might have felt a twinge of vanity about his ill-kept appearance were it not for this meeting occurring during the morning. Unlike Kaiden who booked the bathroom in the afternoon ready for his evening activities, Darren was forcibly restricted to using the shower immediately after he woke each morning. It was either that or suffer through the whole day with his abnormally high body temperature, assuming Kaiden remembered to move the bucket into place.

That was what it all came down to in the end; would Kaiden remember? It was a scary proposition, but one Darren had no control over. Like whether he would be expected to join the day’s meeting. This one was going to be an open and shut case, why did he need to be there? Did Kaiden think he would need help with this one? More likely he just wanted an audience for when he would get to show off.

Kaiden still had his attention keenly fixed on the front of the shop. Apparently he was unable to dismiss the possibility that their only client for the day might arrive so early in morning. He had nothing on the desk in front of him, other than a single page torn from the calendar they kept in the kitchen. It contained a scribble of notes that Kaiden would never let out of his sight until he had used each piece of its valuable information.

Other than putting pencil to the blank page yet again, it was not like Darren had many choices left. Unless he chose to merely return to their private quarters through the door across from him, but he could not abandon his brother. Not even when he highly suspected how much of a waste of time his presence was going to be.

Obediently Darren decided also to return his gaze to the other door that would allow an escape from the uncomfortable room. He always hated being in this room. It was where they, or at least Kaiden, came to meet the clients; something Darren tried to avoid at all costs.

The figure outside had reached the end of the blinds now and a set of large breasts began to protrude into the clear vision of the final window. Both brothers smiled at the sight. It was the woman they were waiting for, they both could see that in an instant. The well endowed bosom was an even more welcome sign than it usually would be.

The woman continued towards the door. Soon all of her was within sight and available for inspection by the two onlookers inside. She was a large woman, remarkably so, and suddenly her cup size seemed if anything a little undersized for her figure. At a guess the brothers would have put her age in her mid forties and noted, doing their best not to take in too much detail, that she was wearing a rather tight dress that suggested she was still confident in her figure. Or at least was trying to be on this particular occasion. The two observers were not surprised at this. Despite having never met the woman before, the note in front of Kaiden did not leave much room for error on why she would be visiting today.

Without even glancing over Darren knew his brother’s attention would have just lost some of its motivation. Even if his brother did not brag of his conquests, he was not exactly quiet during the act, and it was his performances upon meeting a client that usually awarded him the chance at another screaming match with a female participant from the dubious privacy of his bedroom.

This kind of ‘session’ provided some of the rare times that Darren was thankful for how trance-like his sleeping became. Once he was out he could not be woken until his body chose it. This was a fact they both knew, although it did not always stop Kaiden from trying more extreme measures of waking him when he overslept.

Reaching the door the lady looked up at the particularly unimpressive sign that hung above. ‘Sivyer’ it read, giving little clue to what was actually waiting inside. The lady appeared to have doubts and almost turned away from the door.

It was a pointless act when the brothers knew full well she was going to be coming in. Unless she was not the one, but they had already discovered that not to be the case. With her body now facing them her cleavage had become an almost unavoidable sight, and with it the necklace that hung snug in the valley.

There was no mistaking it. It was the same necklace that would be in Kaiden’s grasp by the end of the day. It was not an overly impressive piece, despite Darren being far from a keen eye in such a field, however even he could tell it was worth a considerable amount. He had not been sure before seeing it again now, but it really was not a fake.

It made Darren wonder, just for a moment, whether she was from across the Border. But of course that was ludicrous. The Border was a vacant area in the centre of town that no one could cross. Not because it was impassable - it was nothing more than a cluster of abandoned buildings - but merely because no one dared. The other side was officially known as the Opulent, but merely calling it ‘the other side’ usually sufficed if it was actually brought up at all. No one liked to be reminded how much better off were those living on the other side.

On their own side things were a little more complicated. Neighbouring the Border was the Favela, a rundown area that had once encapsulated the whole of their side of town. Sometimes it was merely known as the slums, so long as an occupant of the Favela was not there to hear the phrase, but thankfully they rarely ventured far.

There was no way someone wearing something of actual worth had come from the Favela, not if they had managed to make it out with both the item and their life. Attempting to hold onto one would have required giving up the other.

So that simply left where their store was situated; a new division to the town that had risen above the Favela, at the opposite side of town to the Border, thanks to the aid of the Law. Darren could not help but be impressed at the wealth this woman clearly possessed. The Law were doing well if the area of town within their protection had been cultivated to that point of prosperity.

Darren looked over at his brother. He was smiling back with a childish grin that was beaming from one ear to the other. Kaiden also appeared to have noticed how well it matched the shaky sketch on the note before him.

No, Darren warned succinctly, don’t do it again.

I’ve got to keep up my reputation, he replied, the smile not dropping from his smug face, and there’s no denying she’s the one.

The lady was done looking at the sign and appeared ready to tackle the door. With the sun shining outside she was still unable to notice the two watching her from the gloom.

There was light in the room, though just barely. They kept it that way by blocking most of the glow emitting off the globe on the ceiling, at Darren’s request, along with keeping to the low scale shop. Among other reasons it helped him remain unnoticed in the corner until such time as he was forced to speak. Sometimes he was lucky and that time never came about; Kaiden usually liked to do all the talking anyway.

Despite the store failing to match his own level of respectful presentation, Kaiden accepted this was how things were. It helped in the mystery, which never appeared to hurt his growing reputation, and by the time he got to exercise his skills the quality of the shop did not appear to ever remain in the forefront of their clients’ minds.

Kaiden quickly turned his attention down to his desk, grabbed a random writing utensil close by, and pretended to be hard at work on the note before him. Darren merely sighed and returned the still blank page back to the pile.

Hello? the woman called out cautiously as she took a step into the darkened room. Is this Kaiden Sivyer the-

Do you always wear that necklace? Kaiden interrupted her, still without looking up from the note he had long since read.

My necklace..? the lady paused and looked down at the article. Lifting it up off her chest, she examined it.

Darren followed her example. He had to admit up close it was somewhat impressive, the size of the gem alone was astounding and it looked as if it had been recently shined to fully show off its sparkling wonder. Had its light source not recently been cut away, it would have been dutifully fulfilling its role as a beacon to its owner’s cleavage. It was held in place by a basic gold twin chain; plain enough not to distract the eyes upon it from reaching the jewel at the end.

Why are you asking about-?

I’m sorry, Kaiden interrupted again. This time actually putting down the writing implement and meeting the confused woman’s stare. I’ve raced ahead of myself again. I’m sure you’d much rather explain to me that you suspect your husband of having an affair before I give you the answer. He gestured to the seat in front of him. Please take a seat and we’ll start from there if you like.

Flustered and feeling the conversation was progressing a little out of order, the woman planted herself on the seat offered and attempted to find her place in the jumbled dialogue. She did not appear to be coping well with the theft of what she had believed to be her line in the conversation.

How did you- who are you? she got out at last, deciding to take an even greater step back in the conversation than had been offered.

I’m who you secretly decided to come see, Kaiden replied, possibly over-playing his hand as he often liked to do, just to see how far a client would accept before he had to reel it back. It was unfortunate, Darren found, that since he was always right the boundary was forever moving off into the distance. Kaiden Sivyer, private investigator at your service. I’m willing to investigate any complication you wish or, as with your current query, merely give you the answer right away. A feat I will be able to perform once you tell me about the necklace.

The lady was once again speechless. She looked down at the jewel hanging from her neck, as if hoping it held such clues blatantly upon itself, then back to the one making such bold claims. Darren decided he would give her a push, before Kaiden continued to mystify her with his antics.

He sees things we don’t, Darren explained to her. I’m sure you were told such rumours by whoever recommended him to you. It’s best just to go with it.

The woman jumped at the sound of his voice and glanced over at his half hidden position to the side of the room. Their gaze met for a second, but when Darren did not lunge at her she appeared to calm down. Once again Darren was grateful for the dull lighting. People were often put off by the red tinge of fire around his pupils.

Slowly she returned her attention to the man in front of her. When do I wear it? she repeated uncertainly. Not often, just when my husband and I go out. I tried to find it last week for an event my husband had been invited to, but it had gone missing. I was devastated and told him, her face contorted in disgust, but he tried to dismiss it and suggested another one. When I refused to go without it he went alone.

Obviously it was found, Kaiden encouraged patiently. Please go on.

The woman nodded. Well two days later he returned with it all sparkling like it is now. It turns out he’d sent it to be cleaned and forgotten all about it! She laughed, causing the necklace to bounce around the unstable area that housed it. I was so grateful…and a little concerned. Her expression dropped. He’s never sent any jewellery off to be cleaned before. I guess that’s when I remembered a friend mentioning you and thought that perhaps you could ease my worries-

You were right to come see me, Kaiden answered with a sharp nod. Your necklace was certainly not forgotten at the cleaners all this time.

The lady’s eyes narrowed. He lost it, didn’t he? This is a new one he bought instead, isn’t it? He’s always losing my jewellery. He’d better not think it’s coming out of my allowance. I plan to get the latest release next month, as I do every season so-

That is the same piece, Kaiden managed to cut in, just before the woman exploded with outrage. Darren was grateful too. If she was going to do that he may as well give her the news that would give her a proper temper, and then she would not feel like she had spent it all too soon. The impressive jewel you’re wearing, along with the others that have gone missing in the past, have been in the hands of your husband’s mistress.

There was a silence in the room. The lady was frowning. Apparently Kaiden had finally made a claim that she was not willing to simply take his word for. That was fine though, now he could really show off.

I noted as you walked in, a single strand of black hair was caught between the chains that support the jewel. Since you are quite clearly a blond, and your clothing also reveals traces of recently detached blond strands that suggest you haven’t freshly dyed it to that effect; it must be from someone else.

What about my daughter? the woman blurted out, for some reason feeling she had to defend herself with similar logic that the complete stranger was using to make such a claim to her. I tell her not to but she sometimes borrows them. Her figure is…a little slimmer than mine, so she never takes my clothing. But I find my earrings in her room all the time and-

And does she wear foundation? I notice you don’t.

The lady sat back in her seat at the boldness of the forward question. No, she answered slowly. I don’t approve of that stuff.

There’s a small smudge on the underside of the jewel that you revealed when you lifted it up to inspect it earlier. I’m sure it will likely turn out to be a particularly dark hue of foundation commonly used by those wishing it to match their tan.

Kaiden paused as the woman lifted the pendant to try to locate the smudge. It did not appear she could find it, though Darren knew his brother would not be concerned. She would probably assume it had already rubbed off on her bosom, or that she just could not see it in the poor lighting. Yet somehow he had. The fact that she was looking meant he had her.

It likely got there when this tanned individual slipped it on sometime recently, brushing it against her face as the unexpected weight of the impressively size jewel came down. I would imagine she was also in an excited state at receiving such a gift that she didn’t notice. Kaiden drew a quick breath. This would also mean the cleaning of the necklace was prior to her putting it on. It was sanitised for her benefit, not for-

In a motion remarkably swift for a woman of such size she lifted herself off her seat and snapped the pendant off her neck. Leaning forward she sent the hand clutching it towards the desk, only to find the path interrupted by Kaiden’s out stretched hand.

No doubt the jewel has just lost some of its importance to you. However instead of being so rash, if you would consider using it as payment for my services…I could perhaps attempt to track down this tanned woman for you?

Darren looked up from his casual glance at the pile of sketches beside him. Attempt to track her down? They had already done that earlier that morning. Of course someone owning such a piece of jewellery would wear it to any event they could and on this side of the Border at least, there were not many such events. With their own shady reputation an invite for themselves had been out of the question, however they did know one member within the area protected by the Law, right at the heart of it actually, who would have received one.

Armed with a description of the piece, Kaiden had made the call earlier that day and lo and behold they had discovered this same piece of jewellery had made it to the event resting in the bosom of another. A tanned woman as their chatty source had put it. From there it had not been difficult to narrow it down to an apparent friend of the large woman in their store. That had been quite a letdown really. Even if Kaiden had merely bluffed his way through this he would not have been wrong; it was always the trusted friend.

Darren could not help but let out a sigh as he watched his brother milk the woman for all he could. Now he could bill a few days of work to the apparent search, not to mention the pendant looking like it was worth much more than even that.

The woman slowed her breathing, although she was still looking at the solid base of the desk. Her hand grasped the pendant hard, and then with some resistance passed it over to Kaiden’s palm.

Thank you, she grumbled. I would appreciate your services in the matter.

She extended her hand out to him and Kaiden quickly swapped the pendant over to his other hand in order to meet it. As the two of them shook hands Darren scowled at the sight and even saw the edges of Kaiden’s mouth rise ever so slightly.

He always made sure to shake hands with the client when Darren was there. Of course he claimed it was just to be professional, but on more than one occasion Kaiden had walked a client out without a handshake as Darren watched from behind the blinds of their living quarters. Kaiden only ever offered his hand when he knew Darren was witnessing it, just because Kaiden knew how much it annoyed him to see the simple act that he avoided at any cost.

Kaiden turned away from the woman and Darren quickly wiped his face clear of any resentment. The pendant was placed on the desk beside the note and Kaiden used the opportunity to quickly scan its contents once again. All its insight had already been used, Darren could easily recall, except the final line. The one which could be followed by simply ending the meeting there.

‘Don’t ask about the daughter’ it read. How simple was that to follow? Yet from the childish grin reforming on his face Darren could already see which outcome the day’s end would bring about.

Perhaps I could speak to your daughter? Kaiden asked innocently, turning back around to face the woman.

My daughter? she responded in a confused tone, halting her own turn for the door.

Yes, he nodded, if I get with her, ah, I mean meet her, she may know who this mystery tanned-

The woman’s fist hit him square in the face with an incredible force. Darren felt a shudder run through his body as the twin futures found their place and the designated path was locked into the present. He could not help but feel sorry for the husband when she got home. It did not seem likely that she would be waiting to hear who the other woman was before she took action.

He did not feel any sympathy for Kaiden though. Darren had admittedly been a little vague when he had wrote that part of the note, but it was not like his brother could accuse him of baiting him. He had specifically said not to ask it. It was not like he had known what was going to occur either. Just that if Kaiden, by his own choice, decided to ask the question it would earn him a black eye. Although admittedly that part had not been too hard to work out.

Chapter 2

Emmett Trayte felt the water run through his long black hair and down his back. He could feel the stream from the showerhead collecting all through his locks and then gushing down the rest of his body. It was a calming sensation, like being one with the tranquillity of the flowing water. He was part of a stream that smoothed out any rough surfaces that might still remain within his inner psyche.

The calming effect was a welcome sensation to Emmett. It was one he had found few opportunities to seek out in his old life and even then he had dismissed the experience as being too dangerous. Back then, in the life he had abandoned a decade ago, he had always been on edge. Remaining sharp and vigilant was the only way to stay alive. The tranquillity of water running over him had not been as appealing when it also numbed his finely tuned instinct, the only thing he had truly been able to rely on. There was no telling whether the next threat would come from an enemy or one he had thought to be an ally.

He had left that life behind though. Now he was free to let his guard down, at least enough to enjoy an uninterrupted shower. It was an indulgence he now took advantage of whenever he could. The only thing that kept him from completely losing himself to the soothing sensation of the running water was the slight, but constant sting of old wounds throughout his body. As the drops of liquid ran across them and urged his tensed muscles to relax, his body would attempt to follow the sincerity of the instruction. Only for the pain within the wounds to lash out as he did.

Compared to the pain he had experienced in the past, this was nothing. The sudden aches only served as a reminder to remain conscious, which was not bad advice at all really. Sometimes while in this state he would try to recall where he had gained particular wounds, but there were so many that all his conflicts had merged together into a mess of half memories.

He looked down at his chest and picked out one amid his scarred form. That one was definitely from one of my own men, he recalled with a small grin. One of my first, possibly even the first?

With some modesty to his accomplished abilities, at least to their unrefined state way back when, he still believed he had only survived by pure luck. It had been before the Law had established itself and the Favela had not yet found a cause to unite itself from constant internal conflict. He had been only a lackey at the time but already he had proven himself with a number of the small factions as one of the go-to freelancers if a task needed doing.

He had been picking up his take for a recent kill that, come to think of it, had earned him one of the other wounds amongst his collection, when he had noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. Another mercenary had been charging towards him, likely intending to earn themselves a higher spot on the roster by taking out the new hot shot.

Emmett traced his hand over the eight inch scar which started just below his neck and ran diagonally down across his chest. The poor soul tried to get a knife to my throat from behind me just as I was standing back up. He sighed. Well there was always one in every batch of newcomers; it was how we taught the others the consequence of such rash ideas. So long as the bold move failed anyway, otherwise the novices learnt a different lesson.

While he was wandering through memory lane he tried to think back to his own time as a fledgling within the world of the Favela, but could not. His memories of that period and the exaggerated stories of his rise to the top had blended over time and even he could not remember what the truth was anymore. Had he been the one within his own batch of newcomers to the conflict that had first taken a higher position through a kill, or had he witnessed another do it and then killed them to gain their newly acquired reputation? It hardly matter anymore. As much as he enjoyed reminiscing he preferred not to think back over his own deeds in the art. It made his blood yearn for the adrenalin rush he would never be willing to risk reliving, or more accurately risk dying for again.

The problem had been that while others in his old line of work usually chose to throw their blows from the shadows; he liked to face his enemy. He had always been open about it. If he wanted someone dead then they would know about it and were welcome to try to stop him, if they thought they could. The invitation was presented back to them too. In fact, once he had gained a position of infamy and power, he voiced a challenge to any who thought they could best him to take their shot whenever they felt they could. It had led to more than a few sleepless nights, but he felt the bold move had dissuaded more attempts on his life than it had borne.

In truth, the challenge had led to a few close calls but each time he cheated the reaper, he further honed the reflexes needed to recover from almost any situation he was placed in. In time he even began to predict how a conflict would play out just by weighing up his opponent’s choice of weapon. It was like he could see what move they would make before they set into motion.

The challenges to his rule, a title he had taken with little resistance, had quickly dropped away. Everyone else seemed unable to consider the act would end in any way other than their death. Meanwhile Emmett had felt invincible. And later on, when the Law had declared an all out conflict with the Favela, Emmett had become the Favela’s Champion.

Emmett turned off the water and waited for the steam to clear enough for the walls of the bathroom to become visible again. Even with the shower door fully opened, it was still somewhat of a tight squeeze. Emmett had intended it to be that way so that no one could get the jump on him while he entered his aquatic trance.

It seemed a little paranoid now but back when he designed it his mind had not been quite so adjusted to the quiet life. The bathroom was the one area he had instructed to be rebuilt from the pitiful room it had once been. It was not a large room so there had not been too much space to work with; it had originally been a file room of some sort, but it served its purpose.

Waiting until he felt the last remaining drops fall from his hair before he stepped from the shower was a sad ritual. He felt as if each drop was fleeing from his presence now that he had turned off the river of their trailing kindred. Perhaps even after all these years, the water still feared the disharmonious life he had lived? Judging it only a matter of time before he returned to his old, merciless ways or they returned for him.

There was a single towel hanging beside the shower for him. This was his private bathroom, so only one was required and ever present within its walls. He retrieved it, wrapped it around his lower half and walked over to the mirror. It was a little foggy; he was not a common user of the extraction fan as it disturbed the quiet in the room. Through the fog, he could still make out vague details of his own features staring back at him.

Although Emmett had never bothered to keep track of his exact age, he was aware it was somewhere approaching the end of his forties, and yet looking at his reflection he could see why no one had ever guessed he had even reached his thirty-ninth birthday.

Having grown up in the Favela Emmet had experienced what it was like to feel the stress of his survival constantly teetering on a knife’s edge. With that tension now purged from his life it was like his mind had found an impenetrable calm that even time could not breach. It was just a pity a stress free life did not magically heal the bombardment his body had already been through.

Stretching his knees he glanced down at the joining scars that started on his left thigh and continued over to his right. Or had the strike started from the right? He could not remember anymore.

I think, he pondered and then gave a chuckle, yes, it was that man who claimed to be Lord of the Border! What a ridiculous title.

Emmett recalled the day with fondness. The man, Lord apparently, had asked to meet him just after he had taken the Border for the Favela. Only later did Emmett discover the Lord had arranged the meeting with murderous intent. The Lord had not seemed like the violent sort, but the knife he brandished had spoken for him.

His dramatic act didn’t last long though, Emmett recalled with a sigh. The Lord managed a single step before one of my entourage threw their own knife at the ground beside his feet.

He began to laugh, the wet mass of his hair swaying side to side as he did. There was a loud slap as it hit the side of the mirror.

Well that was the intention. When the blade lodged itself into the Lord’s foot his lunge became more of a fall, and his knife sliced deep into my thighs. He gave pause with a frown. Did I reward the one that caused the Lord to fumble his attempt? Or was I in a bad mood that day and punished him for the injury?

Emmett thought for a moment.

No, I remember laughing even when my own blood had been spilled. I’d seen it enough even by then not to get agitated by such a shallow wound.

Had he passed out? It could have been enough blood loss to send him off to lala-land. He also likely held enough support of those around him at the time that they would not have turned on him when such an open opportunity presented itself. That would explain why he could not remember the knife thrower’s name.

He shook his head. More likely I’ve just forgotten who it was. I don’t remember any of their faces anymore. They’re all gone from my life now, if not from this world also. A decade was a lifetime to survive in the Favela back then.

The basin to the left of the mirror held his personal effects. His phone and other small artefacts on top, with his clothing folded and stored underneath. For now all he needed was sitting on top.

He grabbed the black hair tie and turned side on to the mirror. Gripping his hair into a thick log, he slipped the hair tie through and up to the base, allowing a ponytail to fall and knock a wet embrace against his back. The hair tie was barely even visible in the mirror. He had intentionally picked one out that was as close to the colour of his hair as he could.

A decade ago he had not used one, or even possessed the sort of hair that could make use of it. When he bought it all those years ago he asked the clerk if it could hold the amount and length of hair he was intending to grow. The clerk had joked that it would be strong enough to strangle someone. As much as he wanted to find that out for himself, he had never seen the chance and now he probably never would. There was something dissatisfying about that, like he had left unfinished business.

With his hair still wet and bonded together the ponytail was not as thick as it usually was. A tiny portion of another scar was creeping out either side. Emmett frowned at the sight of it and tried to look away, but it was no good.

There’s no escaping you, is there? he accused the wound as he lifted the ponytail out of the way to get a proper look at it. Something he had not done in years.

Unlike the others this one was not a cut; it was a bullet wound. A distinction that made all the difference when only one group used such ridiculous weapons. Unfortunately Emmett could not exactly deny it either. The piece of metal was still lodged just beneath the surface of his skin, at the base of his spine. Cracking out from the wound was a web-like trail of blood, eternally trying to rush to the surface, and yet never managing the short distance.

While the other wounds were barely visible at a distance, or so he always hoped, no one would ever miss this one. It still looked as devastating as it had the day he had regained consciousness to feel it there; a small piece of metal burning as it lodged itself into the back of his neck.

The one that should have killed me, he muttered. Why is it the memory of this one never even begins to fade from my mind?

Hearing footsteps in the room adjacent to his bathroom, Emmett quickly shot a look over to a particular tile on the wall, just back from the basin. His own reaction surprised him. He had not even thought about the compartment in years. Would the gun he had placed there still be waiting inside? Would it still work after laying in wait for a never appearing threat all these years? It had not been fired since, well, since it had unleashed the bullet he still carried around with him.

Emmett ignored the impulse to check and returned to staring at the wound that had changed everything. Whoever was in his office knew not to disturb his inner sanctum. They could wait.

Mr Trayte, a soft feminine voice chimed into the room as the door to his sanctum was suddenly opened. Your one o’clock is here.

Emmett released the hold of his ponytail and quickly let it fall to cover the wound. He turned to meet the eyes of his relatively new assistant. Get out! he snapped.

Her eyes went wide as she discovered what lay beyond the door and the clothing her boss was currently lacking. She retreated back, closing the door so fast that it slammed shut.

Grabbing his folded suit pants and shirt from under the basin, Emmett attempted to put them on as quickly as he could. Ms Fain…Jessica, correct? he called through the door.

That’s right, Mr Trayte, she answered, not taking the use of her first name to imply she could replicate the informality. He was pleased; hierarchy was important.

Emmett opened the door and walked out into his office. His assistant, Jessica, was standing nervously to one side of him. She was still new to the position, he reminded himself, only having started sometime last week. So far their only interaction had been as he walked past her desk to get to his own, or when he would ask her to retrieve a file for him. This being their first proper contact outside the necessities of his work, she probably did not think it was going too well.

With his old life fresh in his mind he instinctively began to evaluate her like he would have in the old days. Her stance suggested she favoured her right, like most did but it was never good to assume. If she was going to attack it would be her right arm; the appendage currently holding a stack of papers with a nervous and unrelenting shake.

Her easily flustered demeanour had been a surprise, but then not many employees saw their boss naked in their first week. Not without a portion of flirting or promise of promotion beforehand anyway. Emmett did wonder if he should have explained what was beyond the door to the side of his office. However it was his room. He did not wish to share even a knowledge of its existence with anyone.

Looking past the nervous aura emanating from her, a difficult task when his awakening instincts were screaming to take advantage while she was off guard, he looked at her as a woman instead of an opponent. She was attractive, there was no point denying that, at least not within his own head. He liked blondes too, even if her long flowing hair was a particularly extreme shade that was more white than blonde.

However he could not get over the nervous shake she had acquired from such a simple and unexpected encounter. He was attracted to women with a stronger fortitude than that and expected it from those he worked with as well. Besides, he would not have even guessed her to be in her late twenties; young enough to be his daughter. If the Border had not separated them at such a time.

How did you come to get the position as my assistant, Jessica? Have you had experience in this field before?

Not so much, sir, Mr Trayte, she admitted with an honesty that Emmett appreciated. My dad pulled some strings to get this position for me. He’s a man of some influence in town…

Jessica let her half finished explanation drift away from her. Either she felt she had said all she needed to or did not actually know what her father did, Emmett reasoned. Jessica Fain…so Mr Fain? The name did ring a bell. Some big shot within the Opulent from what he had heard. Much too high up the ladder for Emmett to have had, or want, any dealings with the man himself.

Disappointing a man like that did not exactly carry the ultimate consequence like it did back in the Favela, but it would draw attention back to him. Something he needed to avoid if he wanted to remain undetected on this side. It was probably best to keep the girl.

If you wish to get word to me when I am within that room please call from out here, he replied at last. Or simply wait until I return.

Jessica nodded weakly. And your one o’clock meeting?

Emmett looked down at his wrist only to discover he had left his watch, along with everything else, lying on the basin. He looked over at the clock on wall. Beside it was a window displaying the impressive drop down the twenty-odd stories to the ground, and the remainder of the Opulent.

Crap. He had spent his entire lunch break in the shower, again.

Show them in, he declared, and order some lunch. I’ll take it in the meeting.

Chapter 3

The darkness was spreading, he could feel it. It was like an itch trickling its way across his body. It was not unpleasant but certainly not a welcome sensation either. At least that was what he had thought before he knew what the feeling meant. Now he feared its return and embraced every hour that went by without its relentless presence.

He ceased his trek through the dusty, rubbish littered outskirts of the Favela. It was time to do the usual check.

You’ve already claimed the arms, he muttered to himself. What happens now that- ah, you go down? The legs are next then? I had feared it would be my head, but this buys me more time than I expected. He chuckled. You want to give me as much time as you can for me to change my mind and do what you want. You’re going to be disappointed!

He looked back at the derelict community of tents, all connecting yet no material in its construction matching. It had been his home for his whole life. Until now at least, when he had brought death to the community.

It was a rule he had been aware of, even helped enforce over the years. In his defence he could say that he had not meant to, had not even known it was going to happen, but even he knew that was not good enough. Good intentions were not enough to live on the streets. He had to leave for the survival of the others.

He did have a name in this shabby community but had decided to leave that behind also. He would not need it for the life that he now saw as his probable future. What use was a name to a man alone in the world? All that was certain about his future was that it would contain death. Whether it was his or others seemed mostly up to him to decide.

He hoped it would remain his choice because he was adamant he would remain on the right path even if it did lead to that. Hopefully he could keep that resolve; the urge was not going away. In fact it was getting stronger. He was not sure if it was self preservation talking or a condition of the darkness. He did not care though, he would ignore it regardless.

Usually when one left or, more likely, was exiled from the homeless community they were not allowed to take their tent. It had become part of the growing network of colour by then and the community laid a claim to the whole that surpassed any individual’s ownership. However, being one of the first to join the network, and the total surprise of his rebellion, meant he had been shown an act of kindness and been allowed to take his with him.

Even from a distance, he could still see the hole where his tent had been, just off to the left of the network of colour’s center. The empty space reminded him of the hole he felt in his heart for having to leave the community he had known as his family. The sight made it hurt all over again.

The pain could have been the darkness again, but he felt confident it would not bother him for a while now. It would want to allow him time to consider giving it what it wanted, either willingly or just by accident. He was even more grateful now for the thick clothing that was a necessity to survive on the streets. It would protect him against the elements, while also protecting others against him.

Beyond the tents were the abandoned buildings known as the Border. It had been years since the Favela had dared to enter the place. Even his community ignored the obvious warmth and security that the buildings could provide.

He took a step toward the long since abandoned buildings. Desperate as he was, the peril of place was now being weighed by different eyes. Not that desperation would be enough. They had always avoided the Border, and for good reason.

Except, he reminded himself, a decade ago when that man had managed to rally together the entirety of the Favela to oppose the Law. Then both their Champion and the relentless assault of the Law had vanished. On the same day. Oh the Law still existed, but only to hold what was already theirs. They no longer seemed to care about what those within the Favela did. Not unless anyone was stupid enough to give them a reason to.

The nameless man gave the Border one final stare. It did not appear to be causing the usual difficulty in breathing like the perpetual myth of the place suggested, but then again he was a generous quantity of paces away. He was not about to close that gap either. The myth was true and he had experienced his own lungs fail to take a breath while contemplating breaching the Border in the past.

Just because he now felt somewhat brave enough to take shelter within was not reason enough to try. It was not a place he could survive alone. All his usual scavenging spots at the edge of the Favela no longer looked safe for him, or for those that would see him as an easy target. He would have to find targets that were considerably weak themselves. Targets that would find even him enough of a threat to simply give up the money he would need to survive. There was no choice. He would have to make his way deeper into the Favela.

He crept toward his destination in a manner that only someone who had known the streets since birth could. There were times when some stealth was needed, and any man of the street was willing to hide in a near-filled dumpster if it came to that, but most of the time staying undetected just took a reminder of a homeless man’s place in society. If he played the part then people around him were all too happy to ignore he was there. If a man of the street did not want to be seen it was the easiest thing in the world.

A few streets down, after strolling through most of the journey as if he was in one of the civilised areas (with only one climb over the side of a building to avoid an unsavoury group of youths), he made it to an alleyway entrance to the nearest pub. He settled in amongst the rubble of his surroundings and attempted to get some sleep.

It was surprisingly comfortable; he had been forced to endure worse, and the limited space made it feel cosy. He needed to get what sleep he could if he was planning to stay up all night, preying on the drunks that would stumble out of the pub barely conscious and often alone. The drunks should not give him much trouble, at least he hoped not. He wanted to take their money without also taking their life. It could be a tricky line to dance.

Chapter 4

The view came into focus gradually. It was a slow process, like he was opening his eyes or waking up. Although that could not have been further from the truth. Eventually the center of his field of vision was clear enough to make out that he was within their living quarters. Not a surprising location considering his target, but useful to take in nonetheless.

The border of his vision was still blurred, but he did not wait for it to clear. He knew it would not, just like he would not be able to turn his head. His mind felt groggy and as unfocused as the view surrounding the center point he was fixed on. He fought it as best he could and got ready to take in any detail that flashed by.

The store did not look any different. That was a good start. He did not like change; his own restrictions made adapting to a new environment difficult at the best of times. Besides, if their own place had changed in a single day, that would be beyond the trial of adjusting. The question would become what could cause such a drastic change in so little time? It seemed this day, in this scenario, that question still did not need an answer.

His brother came into view. Once again no surprise there. He knew his brother had a name, of course he did just like he himself had a name, but his foggy mind was incapable of retrieving it for him.

Target found, he attempted to say, but the words never arrived. He had no throat for the words to form in and no mouth to project them into this version of the world. He was merely a set of eyes. The feeling may have brought on a mild claustrophobia, except that experience required a fully functioning mind and his was only partially conscious to what was going on around him.

His brother entered the room from the door adjoining the storefront and the living quarters, looking anything but happy. The image initially caused him to attempt to experience a sensation of pleasure, but of course it failed.

Having found its target, his view focused on his brother and became almost sharp enough for him to believe he was actually looking at the world he knew. If only there had not been countless clues to the contrary. Wherever he was, it was not within his own form or even his own time.

His view began to float in an almost random spiral of motions, although it never strayed far from its original location, as if leashed by some unseen cord to the target.

He knew, or had at least worked out at some point that the view was not being seen through his own eyes. For one thing, the current view was looking ever so slightly down on his brother, who was at least a few inches taller than he was. If further proof was needed, he could draw on past experience to know beyond all certainty that this was not just some out of body experience. Depending on the target, he was quite often not in the room when a selected scenario took place. Although he did suspect he would be present if this one came into existence. Where else would he be but in their living quarters?

What an untrusting…bastard, his brother announced at last.

The words echoed through his mind. He found it difficult, even a second later, to pinpoint exactly what his brother had said amongst the clatter of already resonating, yet to be spoken words. Had he not accumulated plenty of practice at the art, the words would already be lost to him. Still, he was grateful the sentence had been short.

A contract with such a client would’ve been useful. His brother paused and shook his head, thankfully right as the echoing words were beginning to block out all ability to hear more. But there was no way we were going to win that one.

His brother paused again, as if knowing he was there watching the scenario play out. His mind tried to consider that perhaps he did this all the time, just in case, but the thought failed to form. It took a particular focus to hold a thought within a scenario, and right now he had to be watching what was, possibly, occurring.

His brother looked across the room, presumably to where his correctly time-referenced body was. He could not find out unless his brother moved towards him and away from the view point he was stuck to within this scenario.

Perhaps it is finally time for us to make our move. I think our reputation has climbed as far as it can and it’s time-

His brother was still talking but the words were no longer decipherable with his mind already storing away what it could. It did not matter though. It was not a new topic and he knew exactly what his brother would likely be saying, if the moment he was watching ever came to pass.

The blurred portions of his vision around the target began to move in, darkening as they did. The scenario was ending. It was just as well; he would want to recall the event as best he could soon and there was still more to see after the point where dark curtain closed this act.

His vision went completely dark and his mind followed.

The view came into focus no quicker or slower than before. Although the second time always felt slower, as if his mind was actually capable of expressing impatience in its current state. He had no idea and it mattered little when his control was non-existent.

In this scenario he was greeted by the same view and nothing appeared to be out of place in their living quarters once again. An uneventful day it seemed. That was fine with him. He waited for his brother to appear.

He waited for what felt like the same time it had taken for his brother to appear last time, but no figure revealed itself. Eventually the view revealed its own impatience and reacted by pushing through the wall between the rooms and replanting itself just inside the storefront.

His brother was there at his