Nameless had many souls that resided inside of him the most complicated and strong was the one by the name of Ethan. Ethan agreed to be devoured voluntarily to experience life outside of the abyss. Nameless's eyes closed as he went back to his time as Ethan remembering it all as if it were yesterday. "Ya sure you don't want to stay and verify your share, Pick?" Lou was always the fatherly type in their group; it was why he served best as the "planner" of the group, setting up the jobs. Ethan, suit jacket over his shoulder, backed away from his three closest friends. "I trust you know where to send the check after all these years. Just don't try to con me out of it," Ethan replied with a wink.
It was to be their final heist; Ethan had a family now - Sarah, his soon-to-be wife was the loveliest woman he had ever laid eyes on. Intelligent, witty, and gorgeous to boot. Together, they had already had twins; Harper and Bentley were just over eight months old and, from the first time Ethan had laid eyes on them, he knew: he would do whatever it took to be the best father figure for them that he could possibly be. The three of them were, quite literally, his life. Currently, they were in Washington, D.C. with Ethan's mother; a family trip for enjoyment and to find a location for their wedding.
Ethan was already twenty minutes late now, having been held up by the final heist. Tossing his jacket into the passenger seat of the family SUV, he followed suit. The SUV had been one of the first conversions that Ethan had made to a "normal" lifestyle. Prior to that, it had strictly been sports and luxury cars.
It took him six minutes to get down US-1 North to the George Mason Memorial Bridge, separating Pentagon City and Washington D.C. Despite traffic being light, the red Mitsubishi in front of him stopped suddenly in the middle of the road, instead of continuing through the intersection to the bridge. Ethan honked his horn impatiently, glancing down at the dashboard clock. 9:58am.
Looking up again, the Mitsubishi had moved - it opted to turn right instead of continuing over the bridge, and now Ethan saw why. Ahead of him, blocking access to the bridge, was a police car and a white van with a "Center for Disease Control and Prevention" label on it. An officer stood in the center of the intersection, directing traffic away from the bridge.
Ethan moved to the side, parking on the side of the street at an empty parking meter. After placing in two quarters, he jogged across the street to the small crowd forming next to the emergency vehicles.
"Please, please! There has been an incident at the Capitol. For your safety, no one is allowed into D.C. until further notice... you, sir! Please, step back!" said a man in a blue jacket with yellow FBI writing on it; the latter part of his sentence was directed at Ethan who had pushed his way through the two dozen people now standing before the federal agent.
"There's got to be a way in, sir - my family's..." The FBI agent cut Ethan off, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, sir - no one is allowed in or out, unless authorized by the CDC. I've got my orders."
Ethan's family was trapped in D.C., separated from him, and something had happened. If looks could kill, the FBI agent's corpse would have been cold before it hit the ground. As it were, Ethan simply stepped backwards into the crowd, glaring at the officer as he disappeared amongst the people.
Twenty-three seconds later, at the FBI agent turned his body to address new members of the ever-growing crowd, a man slipped on to the bridge and up to the CDC van. Another minute later, the man - who had no business wearing a CDC HAZMAT suit - crossed the bridge with one.
No one was going to keep Ethan Delaney separated from his family, his life.
No one.
Ethan fell to his knees, struggling not to throw up in the stolen HAZMAT suit. Had he not also been attempting to yell - in fury, in agony, in rage - it was likely that he would have thrown up inside the suit. Ethan had indeed found his family. It had only taken a few minutes, despite the haze of some kind of gas in the air.
The four of them - his mother, his fiancée, and his children - lay sprawled across the ground. The tears on little Bentley's face hadn't had time to dry yet.
"No... no, no, no, no, no..." Ethan gasped. It was a horrible nightmare. It had to be. This couldn't happen in real life. Some higher power, somewhere, would've prevented this, surely. Ethan wasn't a religious man, but he found himself cursing God as he grasped the lifeless hands of his children with his own, gloved hands. How could a god - any god - allow this sort of thing to happen?
Was it karma? Ethan had only recently decided to give up his life of criminality. Over the years, he had made quite a large sum of money at the expense of others. But he was turning his life around! His children... Harper's binky lay almost a foot away from her, her little fist reaching out as if to draw it back. Hands quivering, Ethan reached for it.
Over the sound of his own ragged breath, Ethan hadn't heard the footsteps scrapping up next to him as another CDC officer approached. "Yeah, they're gone," he said in almost indifferent voice. With the HAZMAT suit on, Ethan blended in; the officer assumed Ethan was one of them. "It's too late for them. Come on, maybe we can find some live ones closer to the basin."
Ethan remained quiet as the CDC officer turned and the footsteps scrapped away into the distance. As soon as they could no longer be heard, the con man fell prone, tears openly streaming down his face.
It wasn't fair! They were children - his children! He was going to get married! Ethan was turning his life around in every regard and then this! What had caused this? Why was this happening? Ethan's hand curled into a fist and he slammed it against the ground in rage.
Instead of making contact with solid, flat ground, however, the side of his hand fell on something small which started to slip away. What was this? Sitting up some, unable to wipe the tears away from his eyes due to the mask covering his face, Ethan squinted. The copper-gold color of a bullet casing laid on the ground.
There had been a fight. Some sort of struggle. And in the midst of the chaos, his family had been taken as nameless casualties, simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time. And Ethan was supposed to have been there. No, should have been there. If he had not been with his friends at the heist, he would've been here, with his family.
I should've been here. I could've protected you...
Ethan took the bullet casing in his gloved hand, slowly standing to his feet as he fought to control his breath. "I'm sorry..." he struggled to say. "I will find whoever did this... I swear it."
And Ethan knew he could. This was Washington D.C. - one of the most security-oriented locations in all of the country. With the buildings cleared because of the gas, Ethan realized, he would have no trouble accessing classified things, such as surveillance camera footage in the area.
Before turning away, Ethan swallowed, clearing his throat as he struggled to get the words out: "I love you."
~~~~~~
Ethan exited the building slowly, a determined pace. It wasn't much, but he had found about twelve seconds of clear footage in the smog of the toxins: three men carrying assault rifles, attacking a woman that moved with an air of wickedness. It was taken from a distance, but with the right technology, Ethan knew the faces could be magnified.
He would find out who was behind this.
He would find out what they were up to.
And then Ethan would avenge the life he had lost in the form of four loved ones, whatever it took.
It was a Wednesday.
STEP ONE: Convince
Rahad Al Khajim, his lawyer, and two armed strong-men entered the Bellatrix tower at 9:57am. Tank stood in his designated place behind the security desk. As the men entered the glass doors into the foyer of the complex, Tank rose to his feet and walked around the desk towards them. "Sheik Al Khajim? Mr. Delahan said to expect you." said Tank, though he had no doubt of who the man was.
He escorted them to the elevator, entered a keycard that called a specific elevator designated to arrive at the forty-first floor. Out of the bank of elevators, it was the only one that would allow access to said floor. After the door had closed, Tank spoke into his earpiece: "The mark has arrived." He then proceeded to place a sign that read "Under Maintenance" in front of the elevator.
On the forty-first floor, Snare straightened her receptionist headset and suit blouse, sitting behind the receptionist desk for the floor. Ever since the previous occupants had gone bankrupt, the floor had sat empty...until the con group had filled it once more. As the elevator sounded, signaling the arrival of the Sheik's entourage, she began speaking in to the headset, as if someone were there.
"No sir, I'm afraid Mister Delahan will be in London all week that week... yes, sir, that following Tuesday will be excellent," she said, nodding her head to Al Khajim to acknowledge that the Sheik's group had arrived. "Excellent! I will schedule you in then, thank you." Snare adjusted the headset speaker to make it clear that she was speaking to the Sheik. "Mister Delahan will receive you now, sir."
Snare motioned to a set of maple double doors to her right, just as they opened. Lou stepped through the doors, walking at an excited, brisk pace, just like any middle-man about to make a several hundred million dollar deal would do. With a large smile, Lou shook the Sheik's hand.
"Great to see you, great to see you - have you looked that this place? It's beautiful, fabulous - it'll make for a great foothold here in the states," Lou said, motioning around the reception area at the expensive-looking artwork, the designer leather couches, and the floor-to-ceiling view of the San Diego downtown and harbor.
"It is quite impressive, Mister Franklin," said the Sheik, his thick Arab accent showing through. "Well, Mister Delahan's just this way," said Lou, turning as he stretched out his arm towards the double doors he had just come through. "Let's not keep him waiting, shall we?"
STEP TWO: MANIPULATE
Ethan stood inside the room behind the large, official-looking desk, as he gazed through the window at the bay below, his back towards the double doors. On one wall of the room, beside the door, silver letters read: DELAHAN INC. Ethan was speaking into a blue tooth headset to no one in particular. "Je ne parle pas français. Je suis seulement semblant. Au revoir."
Ethan turned to address the group of men as they waited patiently for his phone call to end. Though Ethan was not well-versed in French, Lou had informed him that no one in the Sheik's entourage would be any the wiser to what he was saying. Sure enough, no one in the group seemed put off. Behind them, Snare entered the room quietly, a laptop held in her arms.
Crossing the room, Ethan extended his hand to the Sheik and his lawyer. "Excellent to meet you in person, Sheik Rahad Al Khajim. Mister Franklin tells me that we're all to leave here as happier men today." The Sheik looked to Lou, but remained silent.
Ethan frowned, looking to Lou as well. "Is he unsure? I thought you said you had someone who was seriously interested in the building, Leon." Lou faked a worried face, frantically looking between the two men. "He is! You are! Tell him that you are!"
Before the Sheik could respond, Ethan spun on his heel, walking back towards the desk. "I'm sorry, Al Khajim - it seems Mister Franklin here has been wasting our time. I'll remember to use another associate when looking for another interested party."
STEP THREE: CHA-CHING
Before Ethan had closed half the distance to his desk, the Sheik said with a commanding voice, "Stop. I will have my building and spread my empire to the United States." Lou nearly jumped out of false excitement. "See? See, what'd I tell you?"
Ethan and Snare both approached the group, the latter now holding out the open laptop towards the Sheik. "Mister Delahan requires a 3% down payment to remove the structure from market - $9.4 million dollars. If you'll just enter your account number here, I'll be glad to take care of it all..."
The Sheik stepped forward, eying her and then the laptop before entering the number of his account and pressing the Return key. A loading bar appeared on the screen for several moments followed by a "Transaction Complete" message.
~~~
Tank removed the sign from the foyer just before the elevator opened, revealing the Sheik's entourage before they exited.
Three weeks later, the Sheik returned to finalize the business deal. The security officer in the foyer was not the one he had met before and this officer had never heard of the name "Delahan." Upon inspection of the forty-first floor, it was devoid of artwork, a receptionist computer, and the designer leather couches. Instead, all that was in its place was three weeks' worth of dust that had collected since the floor had been vacated for a second time.
Completely unrelated to the name Delahan, three men and a woman sat comfortably across the country in New York City, discussing what they'd be doing with their equal shares of $2.1 million dollars - after expenses, of course.
Lightning flashed across the New York City skyline as freezing rain fell on the city streets below. The city was quiet – quieter than usual – as most preferred to be indoors and in bed to avoid the cold weather. However, in an alleyway off of Madison Avenue, crumpled against a dumpster lay a lump of wet clothing, shivering as the rain pooled around it.
The lumped mass of soggy wet clothes began to stir. “Ugggh,” the girl underneath tried to cry out, holding her hand to her head. But no sound came. She was freezing, wet, hungry, and her vision seemed a little blotchy. She stood slowly, placing a hand against the brick wall beside her to maintain her balance. She was in an alleyway. What was she doing here? She lowered the hand from her head – it was covered in blood. Her forehead was bleeding. She could recall nothing – where she was, what she was doing there…not even her own name.
It didn’t matter, not at the moment. She simply wanted out of the rain. Her clothes were completely drenched. She turned the corner at the edge of the alleyway. There was a Chik-fil-A, a home-cooking restaurant, and a laundromat. Only the last had their light on this late at night. Without thinking, the girl pushed her way in. There were only two people inside - the owner watching television and a customer reading a magazine. Keeping her head bowed, the girl moved from dryer to dryer until she came upon one that looked as if it had just finished.
The clothes she pulled out were warm. Maybe a little tight, but at this point she wasn’t picky. She shot a glance at both people, neither of which were paying any attention to her, and moved to the bathroom. Locking herself in a stall, she began exchanging her wet clothes for the warm, dry ones. As she did so, the questions began to arise - who was she? Where was she? How had she gotten into the alleyway? Was anyone concerned, anyone looking for her? Nearby, a stall door opened as someone left the bathroom.
Now in the dry clothes, she ruffled through her other clothing. No identification. Just twelve dollars, dripping wet, and three bobby pins. She re-pocketed the items into her new jeans. There was one additional item – a rope necklace with a bead on it, tied around her neck. She couldn’t untie the knot on the back and the necklace was too small to examine. She needed a mirror.
She didn’t bother bringing her clothes out of the bathroom, opting to simply leave them on the floor. She exited the stall, examining herself in the mirror. Shoulder length light brown hair, a pale complexion, blue eyes…and a gash on her right temple. Aside from the gash, she was cute, she thought. Was such a thought self-serving?
After pulling some paper towels from the box on the wall and tending to her wound, she examined the rope necklace around her neck. The bead read “Gemini.” Surely referring to the zodiac – she was likely born in late May, early June. That was another hint.
Re-entering the lobby, she immediately noticed that a third person was there. It was quite hard to miss - it was a distraught girl, slightly smaller than the amnesiac, standing before a now-empty dryer. The amnesiac looked down at her stolen clothes and black hoodie. Looking back up, the two women locked eyes.
Immediately, the amnesiac bolted for the door, running back to the alleyway. The distraught woman gave chase, yelling for her to stop. It looked as if the amnesiac wasn’t going to have a choice - she was almost at the dead end. Instead of stopping though, she leapt up on to a dumpster, kicked off the brick wall, and pulled herself up on to a fire escape above her. Not stopping to admire her amazing feat, the amnesiac continued climbing.
Unable to follow, the distraught girl could do nothing but yell, “Thief!"
The amnesiac paused on the rooftop, looking down below. She wasn’t even panting – was this the sort of workout she was used to? Was she a thief? It was an uncomforting thought. She didn’t want that to be her past life, she wanted to be the hero – like Superman or Batman.
The comparison struck her as odd. She must have been a comic book fan, for that to be the first choice in her mind. But wasn’t that what she was like – something out of a comic book? How had she climbed up that wall? What else could she do? And, still, who was she? As she turned her head, her hair caught on her necklace.
Gemini. I am Gemini, she decided. The zodiac sign had been the only identification that she had and, while it wasn't really a name, she had to admit - it had a nice ring to it.
Time to test the limits, she decided. And to get out of this rain. Gemini turned and sprinted across the rooftop, leaping for the next building, where she landed with a roll and continued, unaffected.
The rain had stopped. Finally. Gemini sat inside of a greenhouse, peering out into the night sky, willing for the rain to clear up. She still had no idea who she was, though she had found out that she had some interesting parkour moves and knew how to jimmy a lock - which had allowed her access to the greenhouse and out of the rain for the past hour or so.
But this brought forth the older question - was she a thief? She knew how to get away. She knew how to pick locks. Had she been a criminal before? Even now, as her stomach rumbled for food, she contemplated how she would get said food. Twelve dollars wasn't much - and it certainly wouldn't buy more than one, maybe two meals. She would have to resort to stealing if she wanted to be fed.
Gemini slowly stood, making her way out of the greenhouse and to the side of the building where she knew a fire escape awaited her. She clambered over the edge, lowering herself floor-by-floor until she came upon a window with no lights on inside. Pulling her head close to the glass, she peered in. It was a neat and tidy kitchen - clearly the handiwork of a woman.
The window was locked. It would take much more than a simple bobby pin to unlock it. Should she break it? She placed her hand against the window, pondering. The window suddenly disappeared, seemingly turning to vapor. Shocked, Gemini pulled her hand away. Immediately, the window pane returned to normal.
What sort of magic was this? Gemini placed her hand against the window again and, once more, the window seemed to turn to vapor. Curious, she placed her free hand against the window, pushing in. Her free hand passed through the vapor and she tumbled in through the window, falling to the floor below.
She ended in a roll, softening the noise of the fall. Behind her, the window glass returned to normal. Gemini lay on the floor for a moment, listening. No one seemed to be stirring, so she moved for the refrigerator. Cracking the door slightly, her stomach lurched as her eyes feel on the food within.
Opening the door wider, she began grabbing various items. It would be a fantastic meal, it would... But she paused, seeing a children's lunchbox. A tin metal box with a Batman and Robin image on the front. Gemini looked guiltily down at the food in her arms. She wanted to be a hero - she had this amazing powers, these abilities - yet, here she was, stealing the food that was going to go to some children.
Gemini hastily began putting the food back, opting for a banana, two apples, and two juice packs. Her eyed the remainder of the food longingly for a moment, but shut the refrigerator door, returning to the window. Placing her hand on it, she passed through once more, returning to the greenhouse above.
Munching on an apple, she contemplated - what next? Well, if she were "Batman," per se, it seemed only normal that she needed to find a "Commissioner Gordon." In a sense, it seemed natural...if not a bit childish. But this was New York City. Drug dealers, rapists, murderers ran amock in a city of millions. She could make a difference.
But why did it need to be her? Why couldn't she just go on with her life? Because, she thought, I have the power. And the idea that she was potentially a criminal beforehand was horrifying. She needed to redeem her past actions. She needed to be the good guy.
But first, she would find an insider - a cop - she could trust. But in a city of so many, how would she narrow it down? Gemini sipped on a juice box, the possibilities flowing through her mind. Nameless's eyes would then snap open.
Wed Jul 08, 2015 1:11 am by 
