The Nameless one

The road was barely more than a stagnant stream. Like quicksand, it would devour any creature that dared to cross it. The clouds hung heavily over the earth. Even though they had emptied themselves of their fill, they still remained, glaring down on the countryside with an angered stare. The long green grass tossed violently in the breeze.

It looked like a scene from one of the Victorian Gothics. One could picture Jane Eyre stumbling haplessly through the moors or perhaps Pip Pirrip making the arduous journey to London. But this story had no hope of a happy ending, not even in the next one thousand pages. No, there was little hope for the protagonist of this story.

Nameless Gould pulled his thick winter jacket tighter around his trembling, wet frame. His hair was matted and plastered to his scalp. His shoes were filled with the coarse, filthy mud from the road and his toes were going numb. His fingers, too, quivered in the cold. He had lost all sense of direction and hoped only that whatever this road led to could offer some shelter and safety.

Who was he kidding? This road could lead to heaven and even there he would not find the comfort he sought. No, he had been reduced to a mere shell of a human life. All in the space of two days…

Every second of every moment, his mind was consumed by thoughts of Helena. He had buried her last night before he had set out along the road. He had buried her near the top of the cliff by their house that overlooked the seaside. It was his sister’s favourite place to sit and watch the vibrant colours of sunrise. And now, that was where she would rest.

She shouldn’t have died. It wasn’t her fault what had happened. It had been his. He’d trusted Frank Adams and then the man had stabbed in the back. He had stolen away the one thing that mattered. And now… What purpose was there left? Grief consumed him as he wandered slowly along the muddy path.

A sudden blast of cold wind flew down the plains, barreling into Nameless. He struggled to keep upright in the face of the torrential gust, but it soon passed. He trudged on slowly, his breath becoming short. His legs were sore and no doubt, he would soon collapse by the side of the road. And if he did, it was quite possible he would not rise again.

In the twenty-four hours of his trek, he had not seen a single sign of human life. Except…

In the distance, there came the low grumbling of a motor. And then, through his tired eyes, bright headlights. The motor choked suddenly and the sound died. A vague sembNameless of hope was renewed and Nameless continued down the road. Perhaps these people could help, even if he couldn’t care less whether he lived or died.

The light came closer and soon, voices carried on the winds. People were there, alive. Not mirages or figments of a grieving imagination. No, they were flesh and blood. Nameless opened his mouth to cry out to them, but all that escaped his throat was a hoarse whisper. He waved his arms madly to gain there attention as he stumbled closer. The mud tried to pull him into the road, but he wrenched his foot out of the shoe and trudged along in his socks.

He was not more than fifty metres from the bogged car when his body gave in to the physical exertion. He collapsed face first into the mud.

“Hey!” came a deep voice. “There’s someone up along the road!”

Nameless, however, drifted into silence and sleep. The last sound he heard was the motor jumping back to life – and the quiet recollection of his sister’s voice.

I forgive you…

The grandfather clock in the hallway chimed the second hour of the morning. The house was dead silent and the subtle sounds of the night creatures wafted across the silent hills. The night was unusually warm and the very air felt thick and oppressive.

Nameless lay awake on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. His body was damp with sweat brought on by the sultry night and he had already discarded his blankets, sheets and shirt. He swalNamelessd hard to clear his mouth of the spit and turned his head slowly to glance out into the hallway, where the great clock stood solemnly.

Could it really be two o’clock in the morning? Surely not… Nameless outstretched his hand towards the clock and its face gNamelessd with a warm orange light. The ornate minute hand pointed straight up and the intricate hour hand angled 60 degrees to the left. It was two o’clock.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have been surprised. He had barely slept in weeks. What had caused the sudden change in his sleep patterns surprised him. For the first month or so, there had been no problem. But now he was practically an insomniac. And there was no logical reason to explain it.

He had been at this house for about two and a half months. Whether it was pure chance or some divine act of mercy, the man who had found Nameless’s exhausted form on the muddy road had a room for rent. He took him in for free for the first month – taking pity on him for his sickness and his story. But come one month, Nameless had insisted that he was the wages. For the husband and wife to be so Namelessrous, they deserved something in return.

Nameless spun on the mattress, sitting up. He brushed his hair back off his forehead and scratched at the stubble on his chin. His feet made contact with the wooden floor and he stood. After searching for his shirt – which had somehow made its way under his bed – he left his room and descended the stairs slowly to the kitchen.

He found it without a worry – the trek had become a frequent one over the past weeks. Groping blindly for the fridge door, he finally laid hands on it and pulled it quickly open. The bright light blinded him momentarily, but he quickly adjusted and extracted the bottle of water.

Placing a glass on the counter, he began to pour himself a drink when he heard a meek voice behind him.

“Are you alright there, Mr Nameless?”

It was Jemimah, the wife and housekeeper. She was probably in her mid-forties, but her eyes had a sparkle to them that suggested she were not past twenty. He voice, however, was quiet and somewhat strained.

“Yeah, I’m…” began Nameless apologetically. This was the first time he had woken one of the proprietors and he was deeply sorry to have disturbed their much needed rest.

“If you want, I can bring you a glass of water when I get up in the night.”

“Sorry?” asked Nameless, somewhat surprised.

“Insomnia isn’t particularly appealing in any circumstance, but believe me, it gets more bearable after a while.” She moved into the kitchen, smiling softly. “I would offer you some sleeping pills, but I don’t have any in the house and they’ve never worked for me anyway.”

Nameless stared blankly at her, in complete disbelief that she had known about his midnight ventures for longer than he had ever imagined. Why she had waited until now to confront him was beyond his comprehension.

“Would you like me to go to the chemist to get some for you tomorrow?”

“No, it’s… It’s fine…” He paused. “How long have you known?”

“Since you started climbing out of bed for a drink about three or four weeks ago.”

“And you never said anything?”

“Why would I?”

Nameless opened his mouth to answer, but no response came. She was a peculiar woman, Jemimah. She had odd ways about her. And her logic, simple as it was, could never be challenged.

Moving back out of the kitchen, she smiled over her shoulder and spoke. “Good night, Mr Nameless. Do try to rest. The past is the past. There is nothing you can do to change it. You must move on.” She paused, casting her eyes to the floor. “Or try at least.”

With that, she turned and left the room in silence.
“Punk!” shouted the boy named Nameless standing over Nameless. His fist connected with Nameless’s face, bloodying his nose. “Don’t you ever show your sorry face around here again!” he said kneeing him in the stomach. The kid who had thrown the punch laughed and he and his friends walked out of the alley, cheering each other on. Nameless Fisher pushed himself off the ground and wiped blood from his nose. He looked to Chipper, the three-legged dog at whom the other kids had been throwing rocks. Nameless had tried to make them stop hurting the dog and received quite a beating in the process.

“Hey, boy.” Nameless’s voice cracked. “It’s okay. You don’t have to be scared." Chipper was backed against the side of a building with fear in his eyes. Nameless stood to pet the poor dog, but Chipper snapped at him. Nameless recoiled and watched the ungrateful dog hobble out of the alley. Nameless sighed and limped out of the alley. Hopefully, his father wouldn’t ask what had happened, but Nameless knew he would. He would already be in a bad mood. His father had started chemo.

The next day, Nameless found himself walking by the same alley and saw the same group of boys trying to coax a homeless man into buying beer for them. The homeless man refused and the boys spat on him. “Hey!” Nameless said to Nameless, who seemed to be the leader of their group. “Leave the man alone!”

“Well lookie here, boys.” Nameless said tapping the shoulder of the guy standing next to him. “If it isn’t Mr. Hero. Come for seconds, huh? Well we have a busy schedule, but I think we can pencil you in.” He crossed his arms and his flunkies shrieked with laughter.

“We’ll see who comes out of this one.” Nameless said to Nameless, who was two years is elder. Nameless’s flunkies “ooh”ed in delight and began chanting “Fight, Fight, Fight!”

The fight was on and Nameless was actually doing well and landed a few good punches on Nameless, who quickly became agitated. “Harold!” Nameless said dodging one of Nameless’s punches. The boy who Nameless had called for came over and grabbed Nameless’s arms and held them behind his back.

“Hey!” Nameless said struggling to get away. Nameless punched him in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. Nameless shut his eyes, readying himself for another. In his ear, he heard Harold shriek in pain. Nameless opened his eyes and saw that Nameless’s fist had gone straight through him. He could only guess that it had hit Harold.

“Oh my god! Freak!” Nameless said running from him and the rest of his posse not far behind.

Nameless looked to the homeless man, who looked dumbfounded. “How’d you do that, boy?” he asked in a drunken whisper.

“I don’t…I don’t know.”

“What’s your name?”

“Nameless."

“Well that ain’t normal. That ain’t normal, Nameless.”
Victor Trent walked into the nearly-empty room clutching two files. “Pratt!” he shouted and a wiry man who had been busy typing on a laptop jumped. The office belonged to this wiry man and was kept rather messy due to all the work he had to do dealing with “specials.” Nameless Pratt was in charge of keeping up with the new specials who surfaced so they could keep tabs on all of them.

Nameless rubbed his eyes, “What is it, sir?” Victor had been his superior for only a year now and he was quite tired of his sudden outbursts.

“Another one has surfaced.” Victor said walking over to Nameless’s disheveled desk. He tossed a file onto the desk and Nameless immediately opened it. “In New York. An eyewitness saw him phase through another boy’s punch.”

“Phasing. That’s a nice power. Who was the witness?” Nameless said not looking up from the file.

“A homeless man.” Nameless gave Victor a skeptical glances, “Don’t give me that look, Pratt. The man said that the boy was in a fight with some other teenagers and he phased through one of their punches.”

“But, how can we be sure this man is telling the truth? Or that he wasn’t completely off his rocker?” Nameless asked looking through Nameless’s file. He read the names of his parents and he recognized one of their names.

“Because there is another special in the family.” Victor said tossing the second file onto his desk. Nameless opened it.

“David Fisher.” He said reading the name on the file. “Nameless’s father. I remember this guy.”

“Yes.” Victor nodded. “This man has the ability to take away any disease from any other person and eradicate them. It is known that people who possess this ability can take diseases such as AIDS from others, but they cannot erase them from their own body. Most of the more terminal diseases act in this way.”

“Fascinating.” Nameless remarked reading further into David’s file. Something caught his eye and he looked to Victor with his mouth agape. Victor nodded with a smug smile on his face.

“That’s right. It seems that David has cancer, but it wasn't originally his. Want to know who originally had it?” Victor asked grinning from ear to ear.
“Ginger.” David Fisher whispered to his ex-wife. The two were standing in Ginger’s living room. It was very late that night and it was storming outside. He had come down to Connecticut to give his ex-wife some very bitter-sweet news. A tear-stricken redhead named Ginger began to cry. David brought her into a tight embrace.

“Thank you.” She sniffed. “You didn’t have to do that, David. I would have never asked you to do anything like that.”

“Ginger, he’s our boy. There wasn’t any other choice, in my eyes. I had to take the cancer away.” He whispered into her ear. “Even if that means I have to go through it.”

-----------------------------------

“Trent!” Nameless said rushing into Victor’s office. He loved that he could be the one to shout for a change. “You’ll never believe what I just learned!” He rushed to the other side of Victor’s oddly-neat office and tossed a folder onto his desk.

“This had better be important, Pratt,” Grumbled Victor, who had been busy reading a file about a woman in Washington who could manipulate water.

“It is. You remember Nameless Fisher and his father, correct?” Nameless asked opening David’s file for Victor and turning it to the final page. “Well it turns out that David made a stop to Connecticut to see his wife, and you’ll never guess what happened.” He pointed to the letter he had received that morning from St. Francis Medical Center in Connecticut. Victor read the letter, which was from one of the many, many doctors all over who monitored pregnancies of possible specials.

“She’s pregnant?” Victor asked Nameless with a grin of wonder
Ginger smiled and looked down at the tiny baby boy in her arms. “Hello, Nameless.” She whispered to the little boy. “You look so much like your father.” She said moving the blanket away from his face so she could see it.

There was a knock on the door and Dr. Brian Lawson and one of his nurses entered her room. “Hello, Ms. Prather.” He said walking over to the woman. “It’s time for little Wes to come back to the nursery.” Ginger frowned, but did as she was instructed. The nurse took Nameless in her arms and exited the room.

“He’s in good hands, Ms. Prather. You have nothing to worry about. Now, I suggest you get some sleep.” Dr. Lawson said and he exited the room.

He closed the door and spoke to the nurse. “Thank you Nurse Stutts, but I can take it from here. "I'm on my way to check on another patient and I can stop off by the nursery." Nurse Stutts was confused but nodded and handed Nameless over to him.

Dr. Lawson bid her farewell and walked towards the nursery. When he reached the nursery, he looked around and made sure no one was coming and disappeared into another room down the hall.

“The test results are negative, sir.” Nameless said to Victor a day later. “Nameless Prather does not show any signs of having received and ability from his father.”
“Dad!” A seventeen year old Nameless shouted, “You said you would stop! The doctors said if you don’t stop smoking the cancer will get worse!” Nameless situated himself in front of the door so his father couldn’t get out of the kitchen without confronting him.

“I’m fifty years old and I will do whatever I please. Now move out of my way!” Nameless thrust his arm out in front of his father before he could leave. “Boy, I’ve smoke for years now and I’m not quitting. Ever since your momma…” Nameless grimaced at the mention of his mother and David stopped talking. Nameless never liked to talk about Ginger. He felt that Ginger abandoned him and his dad.

“I’m sorry, Nameless.” David walked over to his son and put his hand around the back of his neck giving it a few light squeezes and making shushing noises, something David had done when Nameless was a child and had awoken with a nightmare.

“I’ve already lost mom.” Nameless said in a whisper. “I don’t want to lose you too.” He exited the room and sought comfort in his room.

David sighed and looked at the cigarette in his hand and tossed it out the window. He felt really bad pretending to be addicted so his son would not learn of the origin of the cancer, but he knew that it was for his own good. If Nameless ever learned the truth, he would be devastated. David knew it was best.
“David Fisher is dead.” Pratt said entering into Victor’s office. “The cancer finally got the better of him.” He made his way across the room and walked to Victor’s desk. Over the years, the two had begun to understand each other and Nameless had been promoted to his partner.

“How is Nameless reacting?” Victor asked looking up from the papers on his desk.

“Our sources say he’s acting like any normal person would. I don’t think David ever told him that the cancer was really his. Actually, I don’t think David ever told Nameless he was special, at all.”

-----------

Ginger hurriedly entered into Nameless’s room and told him to get dressed. The six year old boy sat up in his bed. “Where are we going, Momma?” Nameless stood and looked around his room. Not long after Nameless was born did Ginger and he move from Connecticut to El Paso, Texas.

“To New York, sweetie!” Ginger said rushing around his room and picking clothes out of his dresser. “Isn’t it going to be fun?” She asked pulling out a black button up shirt. Though going to New York sounded like a blast to Nameless, Ginger seemed less enthused. Actually, she seemed sad.

--------------

Dressed in black so they could see the “grown-up play,” Nameless fidgeted in the back seat of the car. “Settle down, bud.” Ginger said. Though she had spoken to Nameless, he couldn’t help but feeling that her mind was somewhere else. She was dressed funnily. He marveled at the way his mother shielded her eyes from the sun. It looked like one of those white things he saw brides wearing, except it was black. He giggled and wondered if his mother was going to marry Superman, his current idol.

The car pulled to a stop and the two exited the vehicle and walked towards a place where a lot of other people were sitting. They were looking at a large polished box, and Nameless quickly recognized this place as a graveyard. He was slightly nervous that there was a ghost there that could go through any solid object, but he laughed at how silly he sounded. He couldn’t help but wonder what kind of play they were coming to see in a graveyard. It must be really something if they have it out here, he thought.

He went to go sit down by the polished box, but his mother stopped him. “Let’s stand over here in the shade, okay?” she said to him. Though it was a question, Nameless knew that she was really telling him they were going to stand there.

The play was really boring and everyone was crying. Nameless wondered why. It didn’t seem like a sad play at all.

After the play, Ginger told Nameless to go wait for her in the car. Nameless figured she was going to go talk to some of the people in the play, because she thought they did a good job.

--------------

“Nameless.” A soft voice whispered. Nameless had expected to see another one of his father’s coworkers who would probably say how good of a man his father had been, but he, instead, was met with the past. The sight of the red-head sent anger up his spine and malice filled his eyes.

“What are you doing here?” he spat acidly as he stood in front of the grave, as if protecting his father from the woman standing before him. The woman took a step forward but Nameless shot her a piercing gaze.

She spoke, her voice shaking, “Nameless, I know I’m not the person who you want to see, especially today, but--”

“You’re right, Mom!” Nameless interrupted, “I don’t want to see you. You didn’t give a damn about him when he was alive so why should you care now? I haven’t heard any inkling of your existence for ten years!” Ginger seemed genuinely distraught over this fact and Nameless took a morbid delight in her sorrow. “Did you know he only started smoking because of what you did to him? And that the only person who stood a chance at making him stop was off in El Paso? And now he’s dead, Mother!” He filled the last word with spite. “All because of you.”

Ginger, tear-stricken, opened her mouth as if to say something, but, instead, took a step forward towards her son and reached out to him. A sudden pain stung Nameless’s face and when he had realized his mother had slapped him, it was too late. She was gone.

He wasn’t supposed to be in there, but he knew she was hiding his big birthday surprise in the closet. Nameless hurried and pulled opened the closet door. He saw a box high above his almost-eight year old head. He, with the help of dining room chair, brought down the box.

Nameless looked around the bedroom as if his mother would enter any moment. He knew she wouldn’t, because she was at work. He turned back to the box and eagerly opened it. He sighed when he saw the box was filled with nothing but old pictures.

He abandoned the box and stood on the dining room chair again. He looked through the closet and brought most of the boxes and things down, but didn’t see whether or not his mother had gotten him the new Super-Soaker he wanted. Defeated, he went to put everything back to the way it was when he came into the room. He came to the box filled with pictures. He looked to the clock on the nightstand beside his mother’s bed. Ginger wouldn’t be home for another two hours. Nameless decided he had time to look though it.

About halfway through the box and with pictures scattered all over the room, Nameless came to another picture. He giggled because it was of the day he was born. He went to throw it aside onto the growing pile of pictures, but something caught his eye. The date was wrong. It wasn’t just incorrect. It was dated thirteen years before Nameless was born and a different day and month altogether. Actually, his mother seemed much younger than in the other pictures of his birth. He frowned and turned the picture over. There, written in his mother’s handwriting, were the words, “Ginger and Nameless Fisher.” Shocked, Nameless looked up from the picture. “I have a brother?” he whispered to himself.
The pain from David’s death still hadn’t left Nameless.

“Nameless, I haven’t heard from you in a while. I just wanted to see if you were okay. Umm…everyone is getting together at Beth’s place on Friday. You should come. You really need to--” The pressing of the Erase Message button stopped the message.

“Nameless,” the next message said, “We missed you at Beth’s I—um—I guess you were busy or…” The voice dropped its sentence, “Nameless, I really think you should get out of your apartment. I know it can’t be good since you dad lived there, too. Why don’t you come and stay with me for a while. Okay. Give me a call and let me know. Please. I’m worried about you.” Nameless erased the message.

Eventually, Nameless began erasing all of the messages he received before he listened to them.

-----------

“Are you Nameless Prather?” The policeman asked Nameless. Ginger had always told Nameless that he should never lie to a cop, so he nodded. “I’m sorry, son. There has been an accident.”

------------

“Pratt!” Victor said walking into Nameless’s office. Nameless, now immune to Victor’s sudden outbursts merely looked up from his paper work.

“What is it, Trent?” he asked cracking his knuckles.

“Ginger Prather has died.” He said taking a seat in front of Nameless’s desk. Nameless had placed the chair there because Victor had been making many stops into his office recently.

“Nameless Fisher’s mother? How is he taking it?” Nameless removed his glasses and leaned forward.

“He doesn’t know. Ginger and Nameless haven’t spoken since the day of David’s funeral.”

“Well that’s too bad.” Nameless said going rubbing his eyes. “Is that all?”

“No. Not even by a long shot.” Victor said with a smug smile that told Nameless that something was up. “You’ll never guess who I just received a message from.”

“It’s my twenty-first birthday.” A drunken man whispered into the ear of the bartender. “And you see what I get? A bar full of friends!” Nameless cheered drunkenly and the other bar patrons dismissed the disheveled heap of a man as just another drunken person among many.

“D’you know who should be here on a man’s twenty-first birthday? HMM?! His father!” Nameless chuckled loudly. “But my…my dad is gone. He up and died on me. Poor sap.”

“I think you’ve had enough,” the bartender said mentally counting the number of beers this man had in him. “I think it’s time you head home.”

“And I think you are wrong!” Nameless shouted. “It. Is. My. Birthday.” He chuckled. “And I’m going to spend it like any man should.” He paused and took a long swig of beer as if that was the proper way to end his sentence.

“I figured it would turn out something like this.” The bartender said. He motioned to a guy in the back to come forward. Nameless was then “escorted” off the premises.

Nameless picked himself off the ground, with difficulty, and loudly cursed out the bartender. He teetered into a nearby alley and tripped over an overturned trash can, scaring a black cat out of it. “Damn. Garbage.” He whispered. His eyes fell upon the cat. “Here, kitty, kitty.” He laughed.

The cat paused with one paw in the air and looked curiously at the drunken man before her. Nameless persisted and grabbed at the cat but she hissed and scratched at him. “Now, I ain’t going to hurt you."

With many minutes of this, Nameless finally had the cat in his arms. “Now this ain’t so bad, now is it?” He said stroking the cat in his lap. The cat’s ears perked up and a dog appeared around the corner. The cat tensed, but quickly relaxed. Nameless furrowed his brow, because the large German Shephard was growling at the cat. Nameless said, "Get out of her, mutt!" he commanded.

Nameless looked down and saw that he was massaging the back of the cat’s neck and making shushing noises, an act David had done to Nameless whenever he had a nightmare as a child.

“Well I’ll be damned,” Nameless said, “That’s just like Dad.” Nameless released the cat and stood. So Dad's gone. And I couldn't have done anything to stop that. Cancer's a big deal and I don't have all the answers. It's not like I could magically take it away. I would have if I could. But I guess that he'll have to live on. Through me and my actions. I guess that he's not really gone, if you think about it. Nameless walked home with difficulty and was finally able to cope with David's death.

Brian Lawson sat in his office going over a patient’s charts. The poor old woman had some ailment that he had deemed “House-worthy.” Grinning at his ability to make a pop-culture reference at a time like this, Brian leaned back in his chair and placed his hands behind his head. God, I need a break.

The door burst open in front of him and he found himself quickly on his feet. Then he recognized the two men standing before him. “Oh. It’s just you two. Well come in and have a seat. I wondered how long it would take for you two to come see me.”

“You’re damn right, Lawson!” Victor Trent said ignoring the doctor’s request at taking a seat. “You lied to us! You said the Prather child showed no signs of acquiring an ability!”

Victor’s partner, Nameless Pratt, did take a seat as was recommended and he sighed. “We just want to know what on earth possessed you to do such a thing. Lying to us? You’re better than this, Brian.”

Brian took a seat behind his desk. “It’s rather simple, really. If you knew the ability the child possesses, you’ll be amazed. It’s quite something.”

Victor narrowed his eyes. “Quit taunting us. Either tell us the kid’s power or…”

“I believe that you two came to see me, Agent Trent. So, you will wait patiently for me to explain.” Doctor Lawson said. Victor thought this was pushing his luck, but Nameless gave him a warning gNameless as to say, ‘Don’t do anything rash.’

“As I was saying. I did do the test, Trent. The child did possess an ability and what an ability it was. I became the child’s regular doctor until the mother moved them out of Connecticut and I am pleased to tell you that he should exhibit his abilities any day now. He has made phenomenal progress over the years. And at such a young age. I know you two must be dying to know what it is aren’t you. Well I simply can’t do…”

BANG!

Victor stood over Brian’s body. “TRENT!” Nameless shouted as he stood from his chair. “What the hell did you do that for?!”

“We weren’t going to get anything from him. He wouldn’t be telling us about doing regular tests on the kid if he hadn’t already destroyed all evidence he had done so. Now let’s get out of here.”
“Nameless Fisher, this is Janice Norman from El Paso Child Services. I’m calling to tell you that Ginger has passed and left you custody of her son, Nameless. We’ll be coming to New York to discuss matters further. We should arrive some time Thursday. Thank you. Good bye.” The woman looked to the boy next to her with a pitying expression. She had only gotten the machine. “I’m sure he’ll be there, sweetie. I’m sorry.”

Nameless sat in the front seat of the ugly van, watching Janice intently. Though she had no direct association with the passing of his mother, Nameless felt a strong animosity towards her. Janice, obviously, noticed this and said, “I’m sorry we have to drive all the way to New York, too.” Nameless sighed and turned to look out of the window at the lack of scenery passing by. They had been riding for what seemed like forever! “You’ll have to talk eventually, Wes.” Janice said patting him on the knee. “Have you seen the picture of Nameless?” she asked. Nameless nodded and pulled out the picture of Nameless she had given him two hours ago. He didn’t look at it and pocketed it again. Nameless shrugged in response. He’d talk whenever he had a reason to talk. And he only talked to his mother and Rusty.

At the thought of Rusty, Nameless looked down at his feet. There was a plastic container with the word “Rusty” written in permanent marker on the top holding a lizard. Rusty had been the gift Nameless had been searching for when he learned he had a brother. The lizard had a slight red tinge to him, hence Rusty. Rusty was currently sleeping under a piece of wood. Rusty was his only friend now. Nameless sighed and tried not to be too scared. So, he dealt with terror the way any eight-year-old would: he went to sleep.

SCREECH!

Nameless forced his eyes open and found everything upside down. The passenger airbag in his face, he was disoriented for a bit. He fumbled for his seatbelt and unbuckled it. He fell to the top, which was now on the bottom, of the car. He crawled out of the broken windshield. He saw Rusty not too far away and crawled over to his reptilian friend. The lizard seemed unharmed. The same couldn’t be said for Janice, although. Nameless, frightened at the sight of her lifeless body, began running through the darkness.

“But he’s just a kid, Trent.” Nameless said trying to reason with his partner. The two were sitting in a poorly air-conditioned van somewhere out in Texas. The scorching heat coupled with hours spent sitting in a van with a radio that doesn’t work had made Trent very irritable. In his lap, Nameless held a remote control with a blinking red light.

“For the last time, he’s not just a kid. He’s one of them now. He’s ‘special.’” Trent wiped sweat from his brow. His eyes were focused out of the windshield.

“Why can’t we take him back to the lab to do tests on him?” Nameless said picking up the binoculars for what seemed like the millionth time that day.

“Because he’s become too much of a liability to us and The Company. Do you know what they will do to us if they ever find out that one of them slipped by us undetected?”

“We’ve tied up that loose end, Trent. I’m sure the superiors will understand.”

“Like hell they will. Listen, all they care about is that one slipped by us. They won’t care that some doctor lied to us about whether or not he has an ability. They won’t take into account or reputation. There will be no questions asked.”

“But…” Nameless began, but he was interrupted.

“Shh. I think I see something.” Victor took the binoculars from Nameless and looked off into the distance. There was an ugly blue van coming down the road. Nameless’s smile widened. “It’s show time.”

Nameless sighed and pressed a button on the remote in his lap. Somewhere along the road, a motion-sensitive laser turned on. When the tired of the van broke the connection, spikes would appear from a sliver of metal in the middle of the road which Nameless had placed many hours ago.

The two agents watched as the woman drove over the spikes and lost control of the van and it flipped and rolled multiple times and eventually fell off of the road and into a ditch. Trent grinned and said, “Let’s get out of here.”

A heap of a boy was curled up on the ground. Face-down in the dirt, he seemed lifeless. He, although, was very much alive.

His eyes opened slowly and he sat up. Where am I? He looked around. How’d I get here? Terror struck him. WHO AM I? He noticed he was holding a container close to him. The only word on the container was “Rusty.” Nameless, for that was his name, looked at the lizard with the reddish hue. “Hi Rusty. Do you know where we are?”

Nameless, though he didn’t know that was his name, looked around, the sun bearing down on him. He stood up and stretched and felt something in his pocket. He pulled out a picture of a man. He furrowed his brow. Who is this man? He decided to keep the picture of the mystery man in Rusty’s cage.

“Hello?” his voice cracked. He cleared his throat. “Hello?” Is anybody out there? HELP ME!”
Victor and Nameless had just returned from Texas. “I still think we could have greatly benefited from bringing the kid back here for testing. Maybe we could have figured out what ability he has.”

“Had.” Trent corrected, “And what’s done is done. Nameless Prather is dead along with his mother and father. And his brother has no idea of his existence. It will be as if he never existed.”

“I guess you’re right.” A knock came from the other side of the door and a tall slender woman opened the doorway.

“Agent Trent, you have a visitor.” She told him.

“Did he say who he was?” Victor asked.

“He wouldn’t tell me his name, but he did say he had information on the Prather case. He said you would know what he was talking about.”

Though this bit of information came as a shock to him, Victor remained stolid. “I’ll be right down.” The woman closed the door.

“Who the hell could that be?” Nameless asked bewildered.

“I’ll tell you when I get back.” Victor exited Nameless’s office and walked down the hallway and into his own. There, to his surprise was none other than Brian Lawson. “How unforeseeable. I thought I shot you.”

“You did.” Brian said standing. “You just didn’t kill me.” Brian quickly took out his own gun and shot three times, each time sending a bullet through Victor’s chest.

Nameless heard the gunshots, like many people in the offices and was first to the scene. With his gun drawn he opened Victor’s door to see his partner’s lifeless body. He looked to see Brian Lawson standing over him. “You son of a…”

BANG.

Nameless shot Brian and this time, he made sure he was dead. “Try regrowing your head, bastard.” He said spitting on the doctor’s body.
It was raining, believe it or not. The temperature was just warm (if one could call it that) enough that the falling snow could not make it to the ground frozen. Instead, intermittent nearly-freezing drops of rain were falling rather heavily and gave the asphalt of the nearly-deserted street a good soaking. Young Nameless Prather, a boy of only eight, was standing for protection from the precipitation underneath the awning of a delicatessen, which seemed to be rather low on business since the owner of the deli had already tried to get the young boy to buy a few slices of ham two times. Eventually, the shop owner stopped asking and locked up his store tightly before heading home. It hadn’t occurred to Wes that the man could have been trying to help him by inviting him inside. He was too preoccupied with his own thoughts and troubles.

For months now the only thing on Nameless’s mind had been his brother Nameless. He had been through too much and nearly died five times in order to find his brother. Now that he finally knew that he lived in New York City, Nameless couldn’t believe that finding a man in a city would be the hardest part of his journey. He had fought Sylar, Rage, and Maury, teamed up with The Company, survived an attack on The Hideout, escaped from NYU and the police, and flown thousands of miles to find Nameless. There was no way he was going to give up now. He had been in New York for about a month and he had met a few new people at a coffee shop. They were nice, but they weren’t his brother.

The young boy shivered and he was brought out of his thoughts suddenly. How long had he been seeking shelter underneath the awning of the nearly-doomed delicatessen? At least an hour, Nameless surmised. Across the street, which was deserted due to the fact that he was in an old part of town, Nameless saw the tiniest of coffee shops. Thinking that a big cup of hot chocolate sounded like it would do wonders for his cold and shivering body, Nameless reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny wad of cash, which he had earned playing the saxophone in various locations around the city.

Nameless quickly jogged to the coffee shop and pushed the door, which squeaked obnoxiously, open with a bit of difficulty. It was apparent that no one frequented this particular spot, since it was nearly deserted save for a couple of men. Nameless walked to the counter and ordered his hot chocolate from the man behind the counter who gave him quite a look for being out in the city alone; especially during the rain. Nameless didn’t feel the need to explain himself to the man, so he turned quietly to find a good spot to sit. He always favored the window.

Unfortunately for Nameless, the only window seat was currently occupied by the only other person in the coffee shop, who seemed to be enthralled by the day’s events in the local newspaper. He heaved a deep sigh and decided he’d rather not bother whoever it was behind the paper. He turned to take a seat at a nearby table to allow his drink to warm his body. He heard the man cough and, out of the corner of his brown eyes, saw the man put down his paper for the relief of a drink of coffee.

Nameless’s young eyes widened and the hot chocolate fell from his hands and splashed against his pant legs. Quietly and with his mouth slightly agape in a curious mixture of awe and fear, Nameless moved toward the man, who had looked up at him curiously whenever Nameless didn’t react to the warm liquid spilling down his pants. Nameless’s voice cracked and he looked at the man, “Nameless?”

Nameless blinked at the little boy standing in front of him, and he leaned forward out of curiosity. How did this little kid know his name? “Hello there,” Nameless said trying to sound as friendly as possible to make the kid feel a little less embarrassed about spilling his drink down his pants. However, the kid didn’t seem to be embarrassed whatsoever, in Nameless’s opinion. Actually, he didn’t seem like he noticed at all. The man behind the counter had, and excused himself to go scour the place for a mop. “How do you know my name?”

Nameless’s eyes were like saucers when the man said that his name was Nameless. He couldn’t contain his excitement and his tiny arms quickly wrapped around the brother for whom he had been searching for what seemed like ages now. “I finally found you! After all this time!” Nameless felt Nameless’s body tighten as if he was unsure what he should be doing. Nameless looked up into Nameless’s eyes and quickly recognized them as his own. “Don’t you know who I am, Nameless?” Nameless asked curiously, “I’m your brother, Nameless.”

Nameless’s face contorted into an odd expression of confusion and wonder. How could this kid be his brother? His father had never mentioned another child to him. Yet there was something about the kid that looked familiar. Nameless’s eyes were the same glassy brown as his. Nameless’s heart began racing and he felt like everyone could hear it. “Nameless?” he said surprised that he could speak at all. The child before him nodded and buried his head back into his chest. “You say you’re my brother?” Nameless took Nameless by the shoulders and pushed him backwards a little to gage the kid’s reaction.

“Yes.” Nameless said clutching his brother’s arms with his hands, which were shaking a little from the excitement. “My mother. Her name is Ginger Prather. She’s your mother too. And my father. His name is David Fisher. He’s your dad too. Momma didn’t tell me about you. I guess Daddy didn’t tell you about me.”

Nameless’s mouth fell open whenever Nameless said the names of both of their parents. Could this kid actually be telling the truth? “What are you doing out here? Where is your mom?” Nameless couldn’t bear to bring himself to say that Ginger Prather had been his mother. Not after she did what she had done to his father. The man behind the counter entered again and seemed quite angry. He muttered something under his breath about a stolen mop and told the brothers that he would be going to another coffee shop, whose owner he “knew” took the allegedly stolen mop. Neither of the brothers tore their eyes away from each other. Nameless’s mouth quivered whenever he tried to speak.

“Don’t you know?” Nameless’s shuddering voice uttered, “Mom’s dead.” Nameless watched as Nameless’s expression did not change. He did, however, release Nameless’s shoulders. “I thought you knew. We called you and left you messages. She left me to you.” An odd feeling swept over Nameless whenever he realized that Nameless was all Nameless had in the world. Nameless and a hat full of cash and a saxophone.

“I don’t check my…” Nameless’s voice said trailing off. He hadn’t checked a single message since his father had died. He would simply erase all messages out of fear that it would be another mourner who would say how great of a man his father had been. It had been an irrational fear, but Nameless often found himself to be irrational. “Are you sure though?” Nameless nodded. “You’re my brother.” Nameless nodded again.

“I found a picture in Mom’s closet one day,” Nameless said after clearing his throat, “It was a picture of her and a little tiny baby. I thought it was of me and her, but when I turned it over it said ‘Ginger Prather and Nameless Fisher.’ I knew I had a brother then.” Nameless paused and Nameless closed his eyes as if he was trying to mentally see the photograph of which Nameless spoke. “Then when Mom…” Nameless couldn’t bring himself to say ‘died.’ “Her will said that I was going to go live with you in New York City.” Nameless didn’t speak and Nameless’s eyes filled with tears out of fear that Nameless didn’t believe his story.

“If you don’t believe me,” Nameless said, “I’ll prove it. When I was little, Mom and me came up here for a funeral and I didn’t realize it until a little while ago that it had been Daddy’s funeral. He died of cancer, right?” Nameless’s eyes forced themselves open and Nameless could see that he was holding back tears. “What’s wrong, Nameless?”

“I saw Mom that day.” Nameless said nearly inaudible. “I drove her away and told her that I didn’t want to see her. I blamed her for Dad’s death. She just wanted to tell me something.” Nameless looked to the young boy in front of him and a small smile graced his pale lips. “Now I know what it was.” He looked out the window at the rain falling and trickling down the side of the glass. The sun was setting and dotted where there were no dark grey rain clouds were a few clouds that were an odd mixture of pink and orange. The sun peaked out from behind a cloud for just a moment, before a rather ominous cloud covered it up. It was enormous and one of the darkest clouds he’d ever seen. Its color was nearly the same as the jet black cat that liked to hang around his apartment every now and then. Nameless couldn’t help shake the feeling that the cloud would never go away and he’d never see the sun again.

Nameless’s quiet voice brought Nameless out of his irrational fears. “If you don’t want me, I’ll understand.” Nameless said taking Nameless’s looking away from him as a bad sign. “All I ask is that you help me get back to Texas. I want to see my friends again. But I want to stay with you more.” Nameless said his eyes filling with tears. He wiped them away as Nameless turned to look at him.

Nameless hesitated for just a second, the severity of taking in a young boy (not to mention his long lost brother) finally sinking in. He then took Nameless in his arms and whispered in his ear, “Of course you can stay with me.” His hand went to the back of Nameless’s neck and massaged it gently. “Everything is going to be fine, little bro.”
Nameless was dead. Rain was falling hard as Nameless ran down the deserted street away from the coffee shop. Just when he thought that everything was going to be alright and he would finally have a family again, Nameless’s world fell apart. He wondered if witnessing his brother’s death would cause him to lose his memory again. He welcomed the amnesia. He wanted to forget everything. Sylar. His ability. The Company. Nameless. Everything. But he knew that life wouldn’t be fair to him. He had already been through too much. Now he would have to face his problems head-on.

The tear-stricken child made it to a main street with many people. Though he knew Sylar wouldn’t attack out in the open (he sure hoped he wouldn’t.), Nameless continued running as fast as he could. He had to get to Ian. Nameless knew that after their brush with the Company and Nameless’s death, Ian would run away with him. Nameless had to get them out of the city. It was no longer safe.

Out of breath from the attack, crying, and running, Nameless sNamelessd to a jog. He had to keep moving. A young couple stopped him and asked if he was lost. Nameless didn’t answer the couple and pushed passed them. He was lost. But not in the way they meant. Nameless didn’t know where to go. He didn’t know what he should do. His world was spinning. He was so dizzy. He just wanted to sleep.

He finally made it to Ian’s apartment and forced open the door, which banged against the wall loudly. Nameless’s jaw dropped when he saw the scene. Ian’s apartment, which had been his home for the past few days, was ransacked. “Ian? Sarah?” Nameless called as he ran passed the threshold of the door.

He ran through the living room, which was littered with ripped pages from all of the books which used to grace Ian’s shelf that stood upright instead of in shambles on the floor. The television was smashed and through the screen, electricity licked the sides of the broken glass every few seconds. The kitchen was just as bad, the refrigerator was barren of all foods and the door was hanging off its hinges. There were broken plates, cups, and bowls everywhere. Nameless dared not go check the back of Ian’s apartment. It was probably worse than the front.

“What happened here?” Nameless asked himself. He leaned against the wall of Ian’s kitchen and slid down, emotion finally taking over his adrenaline-filled body. His whole body convulsed as the tears came. He tried to shout, but he found that he couldn’t breathe. For a few seconds, he sat there trying to breathe as tears rolled down his white cheeks. Suddenly, air reached his lungs with a large gasp. He placed down on the floor, unable to cope with how he was feeling. He was so terrified of what was happening. He didn’t know how to react. He didn’t know what he was going to do. He was alone again.

He shivered. He couldn’t close his eyes no matter how much he wanted and needed to sleep. He was terrified that something else would happen to him. As the crying continued late into the night, Nameless began to dehydrate. He had been crying for hours now after running all over the city for the past two days. His mouth felt like cotton. This only terrified him more, but he managed to get himself to stand and drink graciously from the large leak that had sprung from Ian’s kitchen sink.

He wiped his mouth and inhaled deeply. His knees wobbled and he had to hold himself up on the counter to keep himself from falling. He looked outside the window. The sun’s first rays were peeking just over the other buildings and Nameless wondered what time it was. The sky was still dark and was a strange purple-green. Nameless turned from the window and looked to the door, which was still open like he had left it. Neither Ian nor Sarah had come during the night. He wondered where they were.

Something caught his ear for the first time. It was a small whirring sound which was familiar in the depths of the child’s young mind. His curiosity led him across the room and he came upon the record player, which oddly enough had survived whoever tore apart Ian’s apartment. His hands automatically reached out and moved the stylus onto the record. After a moment, the Beatles began to play, and Nameless heard the song “Yesterday” begin to play.


"Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away.
Now it seems as though there here to stay,
Oh I believe in Yesterday."


Nameless’s bottom lips quivered and he moved away from the record player as the song continued to play. His eyes touched upon the overturned book shelf. His mind was brought back to the night where Nameless had met Sarah and Ian. Ian had mentioned a book. What had it been? That night seemed so far away now.

Nameless searched his mind and eventually came up with a name: Suresh. He had to find Dr. Suresh’s book. He began moving books and pages around to find it. He got dangerously close to the television, but moved away when he realized how close he was. He picked up his hand and saw he had been sitting on it. He picked it up and looked at it. The book was navy blue and had a strange light blue design on it that Nameless swore he had seen before. The book’s name was Activating Evolution.

Somehow, getting his hands on the book and listening to the Beatles instilled within the child a desire to get away. He had hoped that Ian would have come during the night, but it seemed like he wasn’t coming. He looked out the door. He had to leave. But where was he going to go? Texas. He’d go back to Texas. There he would see his friends again and he could stay with them in The Hideout.

Nameless stopped the music and picked up the record along with the only other unbroken record, which was also by the Beatles. He put the book under his arm along with the two records and walked out the door. He was bound for Texas.
Nameless couldn’t believe what he was doing.

After leaving Ian’s apartment with the records and Dr. Suresh’s book, Nameless began walking along the highway. He would make it to Texas even if he had to walk there. Unfortunately for him, he had forgotten his saxophone and his hat full of money in Ian’s apartment. He wasn’t turning back now.

A truck eventually stopped, a black 2005 Chevy Silverado with tinted windows to be exact. The passenger side window rolled down to reveal a young woman in the driver’s seat. “Hey honey, what are you doing out here all by yourself?” the woman reached toward the dash board and turned off the radio.

“I’m…” Nameless meek voice croaked. He adjusted the book under his arm. “I’m trying to go home.”

“Where is home?” The young woman asked him. “Did you run away or something?” Nameless nodded. It was much easier to say that he had run away rather than tell her what really happened to him. To her first question, he didn’t give an answer. It didn’t matter where he said home was. She would never drive him all the way to Texas. “Well I’m going to New Jersey. Is that where you’re from, buddy?” Nameless nodded. “Okay. Well get in and I’ll take you home. I’m sure your family is really worried about you.

Nameless scoffed when she mentioned his family. She had no idea.

“I’m Stephanie,” said the woman, after they had driven for a while. Driving sure interested the child. She looked over her shoulder and switched lanes. Nameless muttered, “You should have used your blinker.” Stephanie cast him a strange look.

“Oh dear,” Stephanie said. Nameless looked at her curiously and saw that they were low on fuel. Stephanie pulled into a gas station. “Honey, do you mind running in for me?” she asked as she pulled out her purse and handed him two twenties. Just tell the lady that you want forty on Pump Two. Nameless nodded, having not said anything more to the woman since he told her about using her blinker, and went into the gas station.

After paying the lady, Stephanie was pumping gas. Nameless got inside the truck and buckled his seat belt. Suddenly, Stephanie cursed. She opened the door and asked, “Did you tell the woman to put forty on here?” Nameless nodded. “Well she only gave us thirty. I’m going to go talk to her. Stay right here.” Stephanie shut the door and ran inside the gas station.

Nameless closed his eyes. How was he possibly getting to Texas? After a moment, his eyes forced themselves open. The keys were sitting in the cup holder. His breathing increased. He couldn’t possibly.

Nameless inserted the key into the ignition and turned. The truck sprang to life.

Nameless’s hand gripped the wheel of the truck. Driving sure was an interesting feeling. Of course, he was a much better driver than most of the people on the road, knowing everything about road etiquette and safe driving.

He had felt pretty bad about taking Stephanie’s truck and money, but he had to do it if he was going to get home. He laughed when he thought of the strange looks he had gotten when he had to pump the gas. He had told each and every gas station cashier that his mother was handicapped and he had to do it himself. Luckily for him, the tinted windows were dark enough that the people couldn’t see inside to confirm his story or see him as he drove along the interstate.

Nameless found himself in Louisiana. He was so close. Only one state to go. The truck dinged to let the child know he was low on gas. Nameless reached into Stephanie’s purse, which she had left in the vehicle after going to talk to the woman in the gas station. His heart dropped when he realized that he had used the last of the money to buy his last tank of gas.

Nameless took the nearest exit and the truck sputtered to a stop. “Great,” he said. “Now what?”
The rain pattered on the window frame. In the summer sunshine, it glinted as it slipped down the glass. The droplets traced lines as the fell under gravity's command. They etched a beautiful, tranquil image through which the dampened streets of Vienna could be seen. But the raindrops were not beautiful to Phillip Cormac. They were a cruel reminder, and the trails they left as the plummeted downwards were lines of anguish.

He sat facing the window, gazing out of it blankly. His hands moved of their own accord, his right pulling the bow back and forth, his left directing his fingers along the strings.

The sounds that resonated out from the wooden hollow of his cello were steeped in sorrow. This was not a time to play pizzicato, nor Eastern European folk dances, nor songs of love and joy. This was a time for mourning.

Phillip's face was expressionless, but his mind was hard at work. There was no music placed before him - this was a memory exercise. If he was to ever make the Philharmonic, he would need to be very proficient in such skills. He was more determined than ever to make that dream of his a reality. He not only owed it to Sal, but he owed it to Dominic too.

He'd never been described as an optimist. He was dour, serious, prone to seeing the downside of everything. But that didn't make him an emotionless stone. Within, he was a turmoil of passion and energy, but less than two weeks ago, that joy had been sapped from his veins. It was beginning to replenish but it would take a long time. A very long time.

The resonant baritone of his instrument echoed off the walls of his sparsely furnished apartment. These melodies, these harmonies. They were the only way he could say what needed to be said. He couldn't formulate the words, but this... this was his elegy. An elegy for a colleague. And elegy for a friend.

He sniffed and tried to focus on the pitch of his notes. On the eleventh of the month, everything seemed to have stopped. He hadn't expected it. How could anyone possibly expect something like that? To find your closest friend in a pool of their own blood, the bread knife still clasped loosely in their fingers - no one could possibly anticipate that. Not even if Dominic Høgh had been diagnosed with depression and suicidal tendencies could he have expected something so terrible. And Dom was not diagnosed.

Why then? Why had he taken his own life? Phillip had no idea, and the time he'd spent trying to answer those questions had yielded nothing. There was no answer. It was an unsolvable riddle. This was it: he would never know why his friend had taken his life, and it would haunt him forever. The question would trail him everywhere.

His hands were beginning to shake and so he ceased his playing. The sudden silence was unsettling. How could it have happened? Why? His brown eyes crinkled. Why, Dom, why?

His tears traced wrinkled lines of anguish down the body of the cello.
Phillip pulled his coat closer to his body, shivering. It was still summer, but the nights were cold, and even moreso when it rained. It seemed to have rained non-stop since Dominic's death. It was almost as if the sky was mourning with Phillip, letting its tears fall on earth. He hesitated, asking himself if this was the best course of action to take. But who else could he possibly talk to? His knuckles rapped on the doorframe. Once. Twice. He was beginning to think there was to be no answer when the hinges squeaked and a face greeted him.

"Phillip?" Sal Brideshead, his ex-wife, observed him with an undefinable blend of emotions. Pity, scorn, confusion. They were all there. Her long blonde hair was tousled - she'd clearly risen from bed to answer the door. Phillip suddenly felt the urge to turn and walk away without an explanation. But he needed... some consolation.

He scratched at his beard - it needed a trim, or just a plain shave - before answering. He answered in the simplest terms, and his voice was quiet and unassuming, but laden with sorrow. "Hi." Her eyes flicked from side to side, as if she were waiting for something to be added to the monosyllable. His eyes remained locked on her. He slouched, driving his hands into his pockets. It was both a practical action, for his fingers were turning purple, and one of awkwardness.

Sal's eyes drooped, and she spoke in German. They were both native English speakers, she from America, he from England, but after living so long in Austria, it was habit to speak the local tongue. "What are you doing here?" She squinted, her tiredness evident. Phillip stole gNamelesss up and down the hallway of her apartment block. He sniffed.

"I need to talk to you."

She slouched, and her voice grew the tone of exhaustion. "It's the middle of the night." She had become fed up with Phillip and his single-minded drive to make the Philharmonic, and his seeming lack of interest in their relationship, and his odd impulses such as these. That was why she'd filed for divorce. Phillip knew she wasn't happy to see him on her doorstep, and he knew that she didn't really want to see him at all. But the divorce had torn at his heart: he had loved her, he still did love her. Seven years on, he'd managed to dispel the infatuation, but something still lingered. He at least wanted to be able to say hello.

He blinked and turned his head away, as he often did when he didn't know how to explain something well. "I know, I know..." His voice sounded defeated. "But I need to talk to you." She raised her eyebrows to ask for further explanation. "You didn't mind talking at midnight when we were married." He attempted a smile, but it didn't succeed.

"That's because we were married."

Silence engulfed the hallway, and Phillip again took to glancing up and down the row of doors to other apartments. The fluorescent light was cold. He shifted his weight and mustered the courage to once again look her in the eye. "It's just... Dominic." Her brow furrowed, puzzled. "He... he..." He couldn't say the word. To say it was to make it fact, and Phillip didn't want it to be fact. It was Sal's growing impatience that convinced him to give it up. "He died. Last Tuesday."

Her eyes widened, and her delicate white hand traced up to her heart. She had only known Dominic briefly, but she knew that he was her ex-husband's closest friend. She remained silent. Phillip again gNamelessd away as he added, "I just need to talk to someone." A foetal half-smile in the corner of his mouth. It pleaded for company and consolation.

"I..." she began, but a movement from inside her apartment distracted her attention. Phillip craned to see inside, but her apartment was shrouded in the dark. No huge surprise, really. It was almost three in the morning. A dry tenor voice came out of the shadows, followed by a man wearing a singlet and a pair of boxer shorts.

"Sal, what is it?"

Phillip took a step back and gNamelessd at his shoes. He hunched his shoulders, as if boxing himself up might allow him to simply vanish from sight. If this wasn't awkward, he didn't know what was. He didn't need that sense of displacement piled on top of the tragedy that kept him awake. "Look, I'm sorry, I didn't..." he mumbled, hands still in pockets.

Sal seemed to become torn, and offered a weak call after him. "Phil..." But the cellist had already turned, and was heading towards the elevator. She sighed, pained, and the door slid shut. Phillip's steps echoed in the corridor and he sniffed as he pulled his coat still tighter. He didn't want to have to face this alone.

He couldn't face this alone.
He sat with his face in his hands. His eyes stared down at the table from between his thin fingers. The tiny lines of text on the onion-skin paper were fading in and out of clarity, and he strained his eyes to see the words better. So do not fear, for I am with you. Phillip breather in deeply through his nose and closes his eyes for a moment. He was feeling stronger now. Perhaps he was coming out of it.

Almost a month now. Almost a month since Dominic Høgh, trombonist and best friend, had taken his own life. The suicide had hit Phillip hard. He wasn't a man of many friends, and to lose his closest left him in a pool of isolation. He'd spent night after night walking circles in his apartment - or crossing town to his ex-wife's - trying to deal with the matter. To figure out how and why it had happened. But now, even though the image was still vivid in his mind, Phillip could feel that he was turning the corner. He was finding his strength yet again. Do not be dismayed, for I am your God.

He'd drawn strength from his faith - it was always there for him. To comfort him in his troubles and give him hope. This had been a great time of need, and Phillip was so grateful for the solace he could find in God. I will strengthen you and help you. He might not be the model Christian with the evangelical heart and unwavering passion, but he was intellectually sound in his beliefs and his love for God was always in his heart. He often asked why, then, he seemed to suffer so much. The divorce, the endless brick walls between him and his dreams, and now Dominic's death. But he found he could put them out of mind. Perhaps they were a necessary evil to strengthen him. Perhaps they would be instrumental in leading him to a purpose. Who knew? That was up to God.

I will uphold you with my righteous right hand. Phillip's eyes continued to scroll across the narrow column. The morning sunlight trickled in through the window and bathed him in a sensation of warmth. He just needed to move on. He wasn't alone in his trials. There was someone there, looking over him. And even if his best friend's death still loomed in his mind, it wasn't the end. He had to keep his chin up. He had to keep going.

He couldn't let them down. Not now. Not ever.
The list. There was something strange about the list.

Phillip pushed back, his dining chair scraping across the wooden floorboards. He stood quickly and hurried through his small apartment. His feet padded loudly on the floor, and were probably stirring the tenants downstairs from their sleep. It wasn't Phillip's fault that he awoke early. At least he'd given in to their complaint about his practice. Surely it couldn't be a bad thing to wake up to a solo cello every morning, but for some people, it was.

But it wasn't music that ran through Phillip's mind at this moment. It was the list. Dominic Høgh's list. The one he'd left in his suicide note. The list that had befuddled Phillip for days whilst he'd tried to come to terms with what had happened. He pushed open the door to his bedroom and, as though in a fervour, he rushed to his bedisde table and wrenched open the drawer. It fell with a clang to the floor, spilling his Bible, his paracetamol and his collection of blunt pencils to the corners of the room. He reached for the Bible and thumbed through it quickly. He knew the place.

Isaiah.

It was there - a single sheet of paper, the edges a bit worn from too many nights turning it over in his palm. Phillip clenched it in his fist and raced back to the dining room, leaving the spilled contents of his drawer strewn across the room. He'd made a discovery - perhaps it would shine some light onto everything. Perhaps it would explain it. Maybe. Somehow. He could hope, at least.

He reached his dining table and began to smooth out the piece of paper. It was Dominic's suicide note. Obviously not the original - the police had taken that - but a hasty copy Phillip had made. The note had puzzled him too much. He didn't like mysteries. He liked knowing things for certain, and he didn't want to leave something like the suicide letter of his best friend in the realms of ambiguity. Not that Phillip could make much sense of the note. Twenty-seven names - all completely unrelated, all completely unfamiliar save for his own. The twenty-seventh name.

Phillip brought the note near to the morning's paper. The article in the bottom-right hand corner of page seven. He exhaled in disbelief, his eyes flicking back and forth between the newspaper and the list. There it was. The second name: Malcolm Schwartz.

The article reported that Mr. Schwartz was found dead yesterday evening in his own apartment. Four times the legal limit of painkillers had been found in his body. He'd overdosed. Committed suicide. He didn't leave a note. His family and friends had said that he hadn't been acting himself lately. Surely that was to be expected before the act of killing oneself.

But Malcolm Schwartz was the second name on Dominic Høgh's list. "It has to mean something. Something... Can't be a coincidence." Phillip spoke aloud, quietly to himself. Speaking aloud helped him put his thoughts into coherent form. "Jeremy Davy." The first name on the list. "That makes sense. He died three days after surgery. After Dominic blacked out at the wheel and ran into him." Phillip tapped Davy's name on the list.

"Makes sense. Dom was sorry about..." His voice trailed off as he descended into thought. He was sorry that he'd caused the poor guy to die. It would make sense to mention him in his note. But Schwartz? Phillip ran a hand through his thick brown hair. How does that fit together.

He bit the corner of his mouth and stpped back from the table. His breath had become irregular, spurned into gasps by the prospect of uncovering a clue in this strange web of mystery. But he'd hit a brick wall now. So Malcolm Schwartz had turned up dead. What did it mean?

Jeremy Davy. Died due to complications from surgery following a car accident.

Malcolm Schwartz. Committed suicide by overdose.

The first two names on the list. Dead. Through unrelated circumstances. It couldn't be a hit list. That didn't make sense. But what did make sense? What did the list mean?

And what did it mean for the other twenty-five names? What did it mean for Rebecca Taylor? Or Reese Beckett? Kacy Keiley or Hans van der Merke or Brigitte Bourbon-Margaux? Or Phillip Cormac?

Phillip cupped his hands over his mouth, lost in contemplation. Somehow, he didn't think this would ever make sense. But that couldn't stop him asking.


What did the list mean?

James could tell that the men and women before him were not pleased to see him, apparently they had not anticipated that he would make the long journey to the Alaska Facility (it had no other name) because of the incident. It had been a bad week. Three of the occupants, this was the current preferred term, had died, two of them during various tests being conducted on them and one had committed suicide. James was not happy, even worse some of his employees seemed confused that he was at all concerned. “I made it clear that the occupants were to be treated as well as possible,” he said, his tone was controlled and his body language neutral but inside he was very angry. “And yet two have died during the tests and other committed suicide. Three people are dead.”

One of the scientists coughed, “Mr. Nameless, we have many more occupants and we learned a great-“

James cut him off, “Quiet. This research is a regrettable necessity and just because we have to do it does not mean anything goes. I fully intend to release as many occupants as possible and I take their wellbeing very seriously. The research gained from the deaths of the two occupants has been destroyed, I have never seen it and I don’t want it mentioned again, this is to show you how serious I am.” James had always had a vague idea that eventually he would release the specials that he had kidnapped but he had never really had a plan. It had been a growing concern and then, almost miraculously, he had employed a special with the ability to alter memories. It was too good to be true, erase their memories and release the poor people and no more would be said. It was the best he could do for them. “I am beginning to think you are not the right people for this job, you lack a delicate touch.” If only James could have moved here permanently, he longed to take direct control of the project but that was not possible. People were already asking questions about what he was doing, what he was spending money on and he did not want more scrutiny. If what he was doing he was ever discovered, especially at this stage, he would be finished. For now he had to continue working from his offices in New York.
“Because of these and other failures I have decided that the five of you shall be taken off this project,” said James, “You’re all being reassigned. As well, this facility is being closed and a more permanent one constructed.” There was a murmur amongst his five employees, “I shall remind you of the terms of your contracts, you shall never mention a word of what happened here.”
Dr. Braune suddenly started speaking, “Mr. Nameless, you can’t be serious, we are the only people who can do this work. You need us.”
James got up from behind his desk and walked up to Braune, “Dr. Braune, I understand you were conducting the tests where both the occupants died…you’re lucky I don’t make you walk back to New York. You are not as indispensible as you think, your position has already been filled.”
Dr. Braune started to argue about breech of contract and what he would do, he got so wound up he did not notice Mr. Mason walked up behind him. Mr. Mason grabbed the doctor’s shoulder tightly and pressed down. Braune cried out in pain and fell to his knees, “I do not respond well to threats Dr. Braune, and I do not have patience with people who fail me so utterly and do not even acknowledge their mistakes. That’s enough Mr. Mason.” James’s head of security took a step back, “Dr. Braune, you will continue working for me in New York. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Mr. Nameless.”
“There, I hope we can put that unpleasant incident behind us,” said James, “In around an hour a team will arrive and begin the process of moving everything to the new facility, assist them in their work.” James walked out of the room followed by Mr. Mason, “I want you to stay here, just to keep the fear of god in them, keep them in line and accompany them back to New York.”
“Yes, sir,” said Mr. Mason, “The research from the tests that killed the two occupants is inside the helicopter for you to read, sir.”
“Excellent,” said James, despite his assurances that the research had been destroyed, he couldn’t do it. They had discovered valuable things and James was not giving up any information. James checked his watch, he had a board meeting later that day, he should make it if the weather permitted. He stepped out into the cold air and towards the helicopter, Alaska was too remote, too far away from him. The new facility would be much nearer, much more under his control.

James stared at the rather large and unsightly piece of equipment before him. He was used to being presented with sleek and shiney pieces of technology, whereas this was cobbled together out of various different machines and still wires sticking out of it. Even worse than that, it was broken, that was the first thing he had been told about it. The second was how much it had cost. While James’s funds for this project (now named Project Insight as it was a distinct second phase) were almost limitless he didn’t like throwing away and being told how much this broken machine had cost him did not please him. It was for these reasons that he was slightly surprised at how pleased the research team who had brought it all the way to him were. They were positively glowing with pride.

“Please tell me why I should be impressed?” said James finally.

Dr. Nameless stepped forward, he was head of this team, “Mr. Nameless, this is it. This is what you asked us to do.”

James frowned at Dr. Nameless and then he shook his head, “I know it was some time ago, Dr. Nameless, but I did not ask you to bring me broken tat that costs millions of dollars. Please explain yourself.”

Dr. Nameless’s confidence and pride seemed to quickly vanish and he took a moment to compose himself, “Mr. Nameless, this machine has the power of a special. Or it did, after some initial positive tests the whole thing seems to have stopped working.”

James looked back at Mr. Mason in shock, had he heard Dr. Nameless right? This was the breakthrough they had been waiting for. “Dr., are you saying this is it? You’ve managed to recreate the power of specials in technology?”

Dr. Nameless’s confidence quickly returned and he seemed very eager to explain, “Yes, Mr. Nameless, I am so glad you understand, yes, that is it exactly. After extensive experiments were conducted on one of the test subjects…” Dr. Nameless paused, he knew that James was sensitive to the treatment of the specials they were holding but this time James was too excited to care about what they were calling them, “In which we analysed their DNA and physical properties and so on…I won’t bore you with all the silence, but we managed to get an approximation of their powers.”

James was stunned, his mind already racing. This was only possible because of his deal with Helen Boxwagner and North Central Positronics who had conducted the original research on this and he would be sharing this information with her. She probably already knew, a number of her people were working on this project as well, but it would be important for him to inform her personally. “Who was it? What was the power?”

Dr. Nameless rushed forward with a file, “The powers came from Raul Sorenaz, a twenty-two year old from California, he could control magnetic fields, moving metals around at will. He was very powerful, Mr. Nameless.”

“I see,” said James, flicking through the file, “He’s dead?” asked James, suddenly noticing the small deceased label underneath his photograph.

Dr. Nameless nodded, “Unfortunately, he did not survive some of the more invasive procedures, Mr. Nameless, I assure you every care was taken to limit the harm he…to protect….” Dr. Nameless trailed off.

James closed and file and pushed it away, “It is okay, Dr., I understand. I am sure you did all you could.” The bodies were beginning to stack up and James did not like that and normally he would have made his feelings clearer but they were finally seeing results! And James was now very excited.

“We have footage of the tests, Mr. Nameless, if you would like to see it,” said Dr. Nameless. James nodded and the television screen against the wall flicked on, he heard Dr. Nameless’s voice clearly, “Test thirty-two, date 18th November, time, 19:21,” the screen showed a clean and sparse laboratory, machine that was before him now and several scientists. There was also buckets filled with metal, nails, screws, coins, anything, “Activating Device 3221 Gamma.” One of the scientists turned on the machine and then quickly stepped back. For several seconds nothing happened, James looked at Dr. Nameless who looked back happily, “Watch the bucket of nails, Mr. Nameless,” then a slight ripple seemed to go through the bucket and some of the nails began to move and lift into the air. Then it was over, Nameless paused the footage.

“Is that it?” asked James.

“That was the first test, Mr. Nameless,” said Dr. Nameless, “We conducted six more successful tests. Obviously, Mr. Nameless, this does not look very impressive, after all, magnets can do much more, but there are no magnets in this machine.”

“Do not worry, Dr. Nameless, I understand what you are showing me,” said James, and he did. This was it. James drummed his fingers on the desk, “What now?”

Dr. Nameless smiled and looked relieved, “We want to see if we can repair this particular device and get it working, control it more, but we also want to try with other subjects.”

James nodded, “Of course, of course, you have free reign to do as you see fit,” he said, “But Dr. Nameless, I don’t want any more deaths, it is better for everyone involved if we can prevent that. After all, Mr. Soranaz is no longer available in your research and I am sure he would have been helpful.” Dr. Nameless nodded. James looked back at the footage, he noticed something he had missed before, in the corner of the screen was the edge of an operating table, and what might just have been Raul Soranaz’s arm. “Yes, Dr. Nameless, no more deaths, please.”
James Nameless looked at himself in the mirror, he was old. He filled the sink with cold water and splashed it on his face, he was old and he was tired. Things were progressing well with his work with specials, security had been tightened and there had been no further deaths or accidents or unfortunate incidents. Since his attention had been shifted away from his actual businesses things were a bit shaky, but he believed most of that was from the change in leadership. For decades he had been Nameless Enterprises and any change would make people nervous. He left his bathroom and looked at some of the reports from his various businesses, he was eager to take more control but the specials took up so much of his time.

And, perhaps, more importantly, he didn't have the time or the energy. He had been all over the country finding specials and meeting important or significant individuals who could help and it was draining his energy. Yesterday, he had collapsed. It had been a shock. His doctor had assured him he was fine, just tired, but James could feel old age upon him. Twenty years ago he went through tougher times than this and it never really phased him. Whatever happened there would be no new challenge, this was it. He had a good few more years in him but he was not immortal and he didn't want to be. A man needed an end to his life, it gave him perspective. People who never thought they would die achieved nothing.

While the incident was nothing and he was fine, it had effected his thinking. He needed to speed things up. It was not something he wanted to do, speed meant mistakes, not doing things properly, more danger. But it could also mean results. Results that could change everything. He picked up his phone, "Get me Dr. Nameless." There was a click and a tired sounding doctor answered the phone.

"Nameless here," he said.

"Dr. Nameless, this is James Nameless," he said, he picked a file Nameless had given him a few days ago, "The recommendations you sent me that I rejected...I was wrong. You can do everything except for what is in section five."

"Thank you, Mr. Nameless," said Dr. Nameless, "I assure you this will greatly help the research."

James sighed, "I want results, Doctor. I don't want to do all this and get nothing, do you understand?"

Dr. Nameless was a sensible scientist, he did not promise things he was not sure he could deliver, regardless of the money and even the lack of restraints placed upon him could guarantee results. "Mr. Nameless, I cannot promise you anything, research is difficult, but this will make a huge difference."

"Excellent," said James, "Dr. Nameless, for the next week I shall be mainly concerned with my other business interests, but I want daily updates." James put the phone down. Concerning himself with his actual business seemed like a holiday, just worrying about share prices and lobbying for less regulation in the Chinese economy seemed easy in comparison to all this.

James Nameless looked round at the table at a team of some of the brightest minds in the world, the top scientists in the world (or at least the the top scientists who could be bought off to committ terrible acts on fellow human beings in the name of research). Only a few of them could meet his stare.

"So," said James quietly, "What you're telling me is you've made no progress?" There was a murmur of agreement from around the table, "After months of work, a fortune in funding, the pain and suffering of the people in the facility, the deaths of several, and we have nothing." James did not like failure, he hated failure on this level. The worst part of all was that they had initially had some success replicating the powers of specials. Now even that device seemed to have failed them.

"This is unnacceptable," said James, "I demand progress."

"Mr. Nameless," said a middle-aged and distinguished scientist, "This is unlike anything before...you can't expect miracles in a few months."

James sighed, "Dr. Harrow...all I want is some progress." He looked thruogh a stack of papers on his desk, "I believe your team told me four months ago you were nearing a breakthrough...well?"

Dr. Harrow looked less confident, "I'm afraid we were mistaken."

"Ladies and gentlemen, please remember, we have committed terrible crimes for this research. People have died. We need something to show for it." James disliked and regretted the deaths of the innocent specials he had kidnapped. But he knew that great achievements required great sacrifices. Still, it was regrettable.

The project was shaping up to be a complete disaster and he was thinking about abandoning the whole thing. Of course, that could lead to some very unpleasant consequences. He couldn't just let the specials he had taken go.

James stood and slowly walked round the table, "Here is my solution. We shall redouble our efforts. I am instituting a lockdown on the institution, when you return no one shall leave, there shall be an end to outside communications not concerned with your work." As he moved round the table he looked at some of the more senior scientists, "Also, I am imposing a deadline. Two months. That is all we have. With no progress the project shall be abandoned." James nodded to his assistant at the door, ten of his security personnel slowly entered the room. They were silent but an air of quiet menace entered the room.

"Finally, it has been brought to my attention that rumours have begun to circulate about this project. I shall explain again, secrecy is paramount," said Nameless. "If I discover who has been doing this the consequences will be severe."

"Are you threatening us, Mr. Nameless?" asked Harrow.

"Dr. Harrow, I am not threatening you with violence," James said, adding a slight laugh, "I shall simply destroy your career and your lives. Violence won't be necessary." He returned to the head of the table, "This project has been a fiasco and when it is over I shall be making a careful review of the personnel involved and who really tried to succeed. I shall be sending an extra contingent of security to ensure my instructions are followed."

Nameless looked around the now ashen-faced scientists, "Get it done," said Nameless, and walked out of the room.
Nameless sat down on the soft hotel bed and sighed. What did he do now? For nearly ten years he and Emily had been together, driving across the southern American states and often into Mexico and beyond. Together they had killed, tortured and destroyed, driven on by Emily's ability to take the powers of other specials.

Emily had always been unstable, her desire to obtain the powers of others had finally overwhelmed and she had tried to take his power and kill him. He had retaliated. Nameless didn't know if she was dead but he had left her behind. That was it. This had happened before but Emily had always been able to control herself in the end.

Nameless no longer knew what he was to do with his life. Even before the incident with Emily he was tiring of their life. He needed something more. That was, of course, why he had started documenting what he and Emily did.

Nameless had a great deal of scientific training in his old life and he had put that to use in writing about what they did. He turned on his laptop and checked his last entry. He and Emily had found a man in Nevada who super strength, they had taken him by surprise and Emily had killed him in seconds. Nameless turned the laptop off and put it away.

The hotel he was staying was very expensive. He had decided he needed to reevaluate his life and this seemed like a nice place to do it. After so long of staying in terrible motels and often sleeping in the car this was a nice change. Nameless had tidied himself up, back to wearing his expensive suits and having his neatly combed hair and he certainly looked like he fit in here. Nameless had even used his real name and credit cards to check in, something he hadn't done in a long time. He longer felt like Christopher Lawrence, now he was just Nameless.

After reviewing his work Nameless decided he did need to change. No longer would he stick to out of the way towns, small sparsely populated areas. No, now he was going to make more of a visible impact. Even without Emily Nameless had no intention of giving up his current lifestyle of death and destruction. He enjoyed it and he felt like he was learning a great deal.

Nameless was a systematic person and tried to develop a plan of what to do. There were an obvious choice; the Company. It had been several years since his last encounter with them and he did know the state of that organisation. Nameless thought of a few more ideas and wrote them down and then decided it could wait. For the next few days he would relax and enjoy himself. Then he would get back to work.

Nameless certainly did not look anything other than a well dressed businessman. But today he planned to make an impact, Nameless wanted something to do, something to further his studies of mankind and wasn't really concerned about what he would be doing.

Nameless hoped today he would cause ripples that would make important people take notice of him. Nameless was planning to visit a very special bank, this was a bank used by only a small number of people. A bank that discouraged people from just popping by. It also had a large safe deposit box area where many things could be held, no questions asked.

Nameless opened the door to the bank and walked in. He had taken care to look his best. As he walked in the security guards stood up, two were inside the door. There was a security checkpoint with a metal detector and two more guards. All of them were armed.

"My name is Mr. Nameless, I have an appointment to see Mr. Loudon." One of the guards checked the list and nodded to his colleagues.

"Through the metal detector, please Mr. Nameless," Nameless stepped forward and through the metal detector, it beeped. Nameless smiled and sighed and reached inside his coat, his hand closed around his gun and he drew it quickly. He fired twice into the nearest guard. With his other hand he plunged his phased fist into the guard's head and pulled it out, leaving a bloody mess. Nameless phased quickly as the guards returned fire. The bullets passed through him but not harmlessly, the kinetic force hit him and he felt the effect.

The guards were stunned for a second, each had emptied their guns firing at him and quickly set about reloading. Nameless could have shot them but this was a demonstration. The nearest guard he smiled as he plunged his fist into his chest and focused, the deatomization process beginning. The final guard stood in horror as he colleague died, satisfied Nameless removed his fist, his victim's heart decayed and broken, the rest of the guard fine. The final had reloaded and raised his gun, Nameless caught it as he broke down the atoms he focused the released energy and then he walked away. Seconds later the gun exploded.

Nameless left the guards and walked through the heavy security door slowly. Phasing his entire body through an object was not easy and it required concentration. Through the wall safely he continued on his way. The fight with the guards had alerted the rest of the bank and he could hear commotion all around him.

Two guards burst through a door and he dropped them both quickly with his gun. He phased through another wall and smiled. Ahead of him was the security office. Inside would be a security team. Nameless smiled, this would be fun. He walked up to another heavy door and pressed his fist against it, again breaking the door down and causing an explosive reaction. Nameless backed off and the door exploded. Nameless walked in amongst the confusion and finished off what remained. He quickly deleted most of the security footage of him and disabled the rest of the cameras.

Nameless walked out of the security office and towards his final destination. The Box Room contained hundreds of small safe deposit. Nameless phased into the room and surprised three guards and a very frightened looking middle-aged man in a suit. The three guards died quickly, each in slightly different ways.

The middle-aged man cowered in the corner, a small pistol shaking in his hand and then Nameless turned to him, "Mr. Louden? I am Mr. Nameless."

"What are you doing?" asked Louden.

"Making a name for myself," said Nameless. He grabbed the gun and as he phased his fingers through it he quickly turned it to dust. "Stay quiet." Nameless then set about opening every box. Some he blew open, exploding the box doors, some he deatomized the entire door, some he even left locked but removed the contents. Satisfied he then turned back to the manager.

"Now, you will remember my name?" he asked the manager, he nodded. Nameless knelt beside him, "Just to make sure," Nameless reached into the man's arm and used his powers on his arm, breaking down the atoms in his bone. The manager started screaming and then Nameless stepped back.

Nameless again phased through the wall and decided to leave. First he walked into the bathroom and checked his appearance; blood. He sighed and quickly washed his hand and face, removing most of the blood. Nameless was sure his demonstration would get a lot of attention.

Nameless could hear the sirens as he strolled through the bank. Because of the illegal nature of much of the bank's business he had guessed they wouldn't immediately call the police. Evidently he had caused enough chaos for the police to be brought in.

Nameless walked up the wall of the bank, on the other side of the wall was the office of a firm or lawyers, beyond that a doctor and beyond that the street. Nameless phased through the wall as he heard the police burst into the bank.

The sun was shining and it was a warm and beautiful day which was the norm in L.A. On this particular day Nameless was roaming the street’s the only one his age around and the reason for this was they were all in school. He often decided himself that he wasn’t go into school which just happened to be all the days he didn’t have a computer lesson as it was the only subject he was interested in.

“Hello sir, could I talk to you about the wild life preservation group for a moment?” A tree hugger had come over to Nameless and was trying to get him to donate some money and perhaps sign something on the clip board he had, not feeling up to answering a bunch of annoying questions he pulled $5 out of his pocket and put it in the pot the guy was carrying.

“Not today pal” He said looking at the persons face and nodding, as he walked away he wondered why the man hadn’t given a second attempt at getting Nameless’s attention but he was grateful the he hadn’t. Walking around the next corner his face was met with a particularly bright stream of sunlight, pulling his aviator sunglasses from his chest pocket he pushed them over his ears and smiled as he passed a group of people walking towards the gym which he had just past for there was a group of particularly attractive people in the group.

Deciding that it was time to have a spot of lunch Nameless walked into the nearest super market shop and headed straight for the sandwich section, he picked up a rather nice and rather expensive looking wrap thing along with a can of his favourite soda he stowed them away in his jacket and walking back through the CD section he noticed the new Chris Daughtry album and decided that it was his, he picked it up and taking a quick look around to make sure he was alone in the isle he snapped off the plastic security chip and checking the CD was in its case he put it in with his other items and at a quick pace headed out of the store.

As he walked through the open door’s a high pitched beeping started and looking over his shoulder’s he knew the security guard had seen him and recognised him and within a second he was running after Nameless who had started to run down the street.
Running around the corner the security guard close behind Nameless ended up tripping over someone and stumbling to his feet and it is just his luck that the person he had crashed into was a policeman. A couple of hours later he was sitting at a desk being talked to by the same policeman he knocked over, as the policeman talked Nameless was reminded of all the offences he had committed and the penalty he was given and he was also informed that after so many offences the police had decided that he would be assigned a parole officer and that he would have to attend mandatory councillor sessions. He was then escorted back to his uncle’s house where his uncle was waiting with a stern hand and his sister was staring from over her book looking concerned for her brother.

Though his sister was clear of bruises and scrapes and hand print’s Nameless wasn’t so lucky, his uncle was quite the drunk and viewed Nameless as a play thing to take his anger out on while his sister was a dainty fNamelessring princess who needed to be protected and kept out of trouble. Nameless was forced to endure a lot of abuse from his uncle which he never told anyone, including his own sister though if anyone say Nameless without his shirt on and perhaps without even more on they would take note of the bruises and the hand mark’s most notably on the under side of his biceps.

That night with a fresh black eye Nameless was sitting in his room on the windowsill watching the sun disappear behind the distant hills wondering how much more of this he could take and almost as if to confirm that he would have to take action soon as the sun had finally disappeared and the sky was black Nameless’s bedroom door creaked open.
“Pass the orange juice please Uncle Leon” Jamie said as she took a glass from the cupboard and sat at the table and poured cereal into her white china bowl. Her uncle who was a tall and well built man with short and tidy dark brown hair passed her the carton of juice and kissed her on the head as he went over to the toaster and retrieved a small stack of toast and placed it in the centre of the table before sitting down and continuing to read the morning paper.

It was now that Nameless made his way down the stairs and entered the kitchen with a slight limp.

“Are you ok Nameless?” said Jamie as she swalNamelessd a mouthful of juice and placed her glass carefully on the table. Nameless looked at his sister and her shoulder length slightly messy dark brown hair identical colour to his and his father’s apparently and he nodded, he gave his uncle a fleeting look of disgust as he carefully took a seat at the table wincing as he settled down onto the chair.

“You have a bruise on your neck, are you sure you are ok?” his sister asked with a concerned look on her face.

“I’m fine don’t worry about it” Nameless said and he put his hand on the back left part of his neck where the bruise was, he knew that it must resemble a hand but he didn’t want his sister to see so he picked the napkin off of the table and put it over his shoulder as he leant over to take a piece of toast, noticing the clock he stood up and headed for the door.

“Where are you going?” his uncle said sounding normal, not nice but not how he had sounded last night either.

“I have to go I have an appointment with my parole officer” and without saying another word he picked up his back pack and took his jacket from one of the hooks bye the door.
It had been a few months now and Nameless had cut back on the amount of school he was missing and the items he was stealing, though he hadn’t stopped completely. His parole officer, a Marcus Levier was actually a pretty cool guy and thanks to Nameless’s recent wearing of scarfs had hidden his bruises. Having a parole officer who he actually felt he could rely on and spend time with was also good for the fact he could stay out of the house a lot more and out of the house meant away from his Uncle.

After being caught recently though trying to steal a camera to give to his sister he was forced to go see the counsellor again, this was his third trip to the counsellor and he knew one thing which was that he hated it. And on this particular occasion after suffering an exceptionally drunk Uncle and his sister spending the night at a friends house he was in no mood to talk about anything, and for once since meeting him even Mark.

“Look you need to tell me what is on your mind or else these meetings will be happening once every week” She said with her uptight voice, she obviously thought he was beneath her and that because she worked with the police she was someone exceptional.

“I don’t want to talk, why you can’t understand this I don’t know!” Nameless was yelling at her from his chair without looking at her, a desk sat between them.

“Look at me while I talk to you, what you need to learn is a little respect” she had said the one word to make Nameless snap. ‘Respect’

“It’s about time you learnt some respect!” “You will respect me!” “Respect” it was like a trigger of memories in Nameless’s head and he couldn’t take anymore of it, his uncle or this woman. Looking directly into her eye’s as it got dark outside for some reason he stared into her eyes with pure rage.

“Why don’t you go and throw your self off the nearest f*****g bridge!” He shouted at her then turning and running out of the room he slammed the door behind him.
Marcus Levier was waiting outside the office of Nameless’s counsellor appointment when the door swung open and Nameless came storming out and he slammed the door behind him.

“Nameless buddy what’s wrong?” he asked getting up to his feet and taking a step forward towards Nameless seeing tears welling up in his eyes.

“Leave me alone” Nameless said glancing up at Marcus and even though he didn’t know why he just suddenly wanted to give Nameless some space, probably for the best he told himself. Nameless had swung the front door open and stormed out when the counsellor’s door opened again and the counsellor herself walked out of the door. Marcus watched as she walked out of the room and out the same door as if she had some sort of mission to take care of. Picking up his jacket Mark pulled it on as he walked out of the waiting room wondering what happened in that room, but he would have to figure that out later looking down one road leading to the mall and the inner part of the city was Nameless, in the other direction he saw the counsellor walking towards the river which ran through part of the city and there was a small bridge along this road and Mark could even see the bridge from here.

Deciding to ask the counsellor about what happened in the office because something was telling him to leave Nameless alone for a while he took a left turn and headed towards the bridge, he was about 10 yards away when he saw her climbing up onto the edge of the bridge.

“Wow hold on lady!” he called and he ran forward but before he could make it half way there she had leapt off of the bridge and into the deep fast running shallow water below. Marcus ran to the edge and a car pulled up next to him and the people within got out and looked over the edge as well. Marcus saw the counsellor floating down stream, completely out cold and her head facing an odd angle, he looked over his shoulder and in the direction Nameless had gone but he couldn’t see him anywhere.
James could tell that the men and women before him were not pleased to see him, apparently they had not anticipated that he would make the long journey to the Alaska Facility (it had no other name) because of the incident. It had been a bad week. Three of the occupants, this was the current preferred term, had died, two of them during various tests being conducted on them and one had committed suicide. James was not happy, even worse some of his employees seemed confused that he was at all concerned. “I made it clear that the occupants were to be treated as well as possible,” he said, his tone was controlled and his body language neutral but inside he was very angry. “And yet two have died during the tests and other committed suicide. Three people are dead.”

One of the scientists coughed, “Mr. Nameless, we have many more occupants and we learned a great-“

James cut him off, “Quiet. This research is a regrettable necessity and just because we have to do it does not mean anything goes. I fully intend to release as many occupants as possible and I take their wellbeing very seriously. The research gained from the deaths of the two occupants has been destroyed, I have never seen it and I don’t want it mentioned again, this is to show you how serious I am.” James had always had a vague idea that eventually he would release the specials that he had kidnapped but he had never really had a plan. It had been a growing concern and then, almost miraculously, he had employed a special with the ability to alter memories. It was too good to be true, erase their memories and release the poor people and no more would be said. It was the best he could do for them. “I am beginning to think you are not the right people for this job, you lack a delicate touch.” If only James could have moved here permanently, he longed to take direct control of the project but that was not possible. People were already asking questions about what he was doing, what he was spending money on and he did not want more scrutiny. If what he was doing he was ever discovered, especially at this stage, he would be finished. For now he had to continue working from his offices in New York.
“Because of these and other failures I have decided that the five of you shall be taken off this project,” said James, “You’re all being reassigned. As well, this facility is being closed and a more permanent one constructed.” There was a murmur amongst his five employees, “I shall remind you of the terms of your contracts, you shall never mention a word of what happened here.”
Dr. Braune suddenly started speaking, “Mr. Nameless, you can’t be serious, we are the only people who can do this work. You need us.”

James got up from behind his desk and walked up to Braune, “Dr. Braune, I understand you were conducting the tests where both the occupants died…you’re lucky I don’t make you walk back to New York. You are not as indispensible as you think, your position has already been filled.”
Dr. Braune started to argue about breech of contract and what he would do, he got so wound up he did not notice Mr. Mason walked up behind him. Mr. Mason grabbed the doctor’s shoulder tightly and pressed down. Braune cried out in pain and fell to his knees, “I do not respond well to threats Dr. Braune, and I do not have patience with people who fail me so utterly and do not even acknowledge their mistakes. That’s enough Mr. Mason.” James’s head of security took a step back, “Dr. Braune, you will continue working for me in New York. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Mr. Nameless.”
“There, I hope we can put that unpleasant incident behind us,” said James, “In around an hour a team will arrive and begin the process of moving everything to the new facility, assist them in their work.” James walked out of the room followed by Mr. Mason, “I want you to stay here, just to keep the fear of god in them, keep them in line and accompany them back to New York.”
“Yes, sir,” said Mr. Mason, “The research from the tests that killed the two occupants is inside the helicopter for you to read, sir.”
“Excellent,” said James, despite his assurances that the research had been destroyed, he couldn’t do it. They had discovered valuable things and James was not giving up any information. James checked his watch, he had a board meeting later that day, he should make it if the weather permitted. He stepped out into the cold air and towards the helicopter, Alaska was too remote, too far away from him. The new facility would be much nearer, much more under his control.
James stared at the rather large and unsightly piece of equipment before him. He was used to being presented with sleek and shiney pieces of technology, whereas this was cobbled together out of various different machines and still wires sticking out of it. Even worse than that, it was broken, that was the first thing he had been told about it. The second was how much it had cost. While James’s funds for this project (now named Project Insight as it was a distinct second phase) were almost limitless he didn’t like throwing away and being told how much this broken machine had cost him did not please him. It was for these reasons that he was slightly surprised at how pleased the research team who had brought it all the way to him were. They were positively glowing with pride.

“Please tell me why I should be impressed?” said James finally.

Dr. Franz Nameless stepped forward, he was head of this team, “Mr. Nameless, this is it. This is what you asked us to do.”

James frowned at Dr. Nameless and then he shook his head, “I know it was some time ago, Dr. Nameless, but I did not ask you to bring me broken tat that costs millions of dollars. Please explain yourself.”

Dr. Nameless’s confidence and pride seemed to quickly vanish and he took a moment to compose himself, “Mr. Nameless, this machine has the power of a special. Or it did, after some initial positive tests the whole thing seems to have stopped working.”

James looked back at Mr. Mason in shock, had he heard Dr. Nameless right? This was the breakthrough they had been waiting for. “Dr., are you saying this is it? You’ve managed to recreate the power of specials in technology?”

Dr. Nameless’s confidence quickly returned and he seemed very eager to explain, “Yes, Mr. Nameless, I am so glad you understand, yes, that is it exactly. After extensive experiments were conducted on one of the test subjects…” Dr. Nameless paused, he knew that James was sensitive to the treatment of the specials they were holding but this time James was too excited to care about what they were calling them, “In which we analysed their DNA and physical properties and so on…I won’t bore you with all the silence, but we managed to get an approximation of their powers.”

James was stunned, his mind already racing. This was only possible because of his deal with Helen Boxwagner and North Central Positronics who had conducted the original research on this and he would be sharing this information with her. She probably already knew, a number of her people were working on this project as well, but it would be important for him to inform her personally. “Who was it? What was the power?”

Dr. Nameless rushed forward with a file, “The powers came from Raul Sorenaz, a twenty-two year old from California, he could control magnetic fields, moving metals around at will. He was very powerful, Mr. Nameless.”

“I see,” said James, flicking through the file, “He’s dead?” asked James, suddenly noticing the small deceased label underneath his photograph.

Dr. Nameless nodded, “Unfortunately, he did not survive some of the more invasive procedures, Mr. Nameless, I assure you every care was taken to limit the harm he…to protect….” Dr. Nameless trailed off.

James closed and file and pushed it away, “It is okay, Dr., I understand. I am sure you did all you could.” The bodies were beginning to stack up and James did not like that and normally he would have made his feelings clearer but they were finally seeing results! And James was now very excited.

“We have footage of the tests, Mr. Nameless, if you would like to see it,” said Dr. Nameless. James nodded and the television screen against the wall flicked on, he heard Dr. Nameless’s voice clearly, “Test thirty-two, date 18th November, time, 19:21,” the screen showed a clean and sparse laboratory, machine that was before him now and several scientists. There was also buckets filled with metal, nails, screws, coins, anything, “Activating Device 3221 Gamma.” One of the scientists turned on the machine and then quickly stepped back. For several seconds nothing happened, James looked at Dr. Nameless who looked back happily, “Watch the bucket of nails, Mr. Nameless,” then a slight ripple seemed to go through the bucket and some of the nails began to move and lift into the air. Then it was over, Nameless paused the footage.

“Is that it?” asked James.

“That was the first test, Mr. Nameless,” said Dr. Nameless, “We conducted six more successful tests. Obviously, Mr. Nameless, this does not look very impressive, after all, magnets can do much more, but there are no magnets in this machine.”

“Do not worry, Dr. Nameless, I understand what you are showing me,” said James, and he did. This was it. James drummed his fingers on the desk, “What now?”

Dr. Nameless smiled and looked relieved, “We want to see if we can repair this particular device and get it working, control it more, but we also want to try with other subjects.”

James nodded, “Of course, of course, you have free reign to do as you see fit,” he said, “But Dr. Nameless, I don’t want any more deaths, it is better for everyone involved if we can prevent that. After all, Mr. Soranaz is no longer available in your research and I am sure he would have been helpful.” Dr. Nameless nodded. James looked back at the footage, he noticed something he had missed before, in the corner of the screen was the edge of an operating table, and what might just have been Raul Soranaz’s arm. “Yes, Dr. Nameless, no more deaths, please.”

James Nameless looked at himself in the mirror, he was old. He filled the sink with cold water and splashed it on his face, he was old and he was tired. Things were progressing well with his work with specials, security had been tightened and there had been no further deaths or accidents or unfortunate incidents. Since his attention had been shifted away from his actual businesses things were a bit shaky, but he believed most of that was from the change in leadership. For decades he had been Nameless Enterprises and any change would make people nervous. He left his bathroom and looked at some of the reports from his various businesses, he was eager to take more control but the specials took up so much of his time.

And, perhaps, more importantly, he didn't have the time or the energy. He had been all over the country finding specials and meeting important or significant individuals who could help and it was draining his energy. Yesterday, he had collapsed. It had been a shock. His doctor had assured him he was fine, just tired, but James could feel old age upon him. Twenty years ago he went through tougher times than this and it never really phased him. Whatever happened there would be no new challenge, this was it. He had a good few more years in him but he was not immortal and he didn't want to be. A man needed an end to his life, it gave him perspective. People who never thought they would die achieved nothing.

While the incident was nothing and he was fine, it had effected his thinking. He needed to speed things up. It was not something he wanted to do, speed meant mistakes, not doing things properly, more danger. But it could also mean results. Results that could change everything. He picked up his phone, "Get me Dr. Nameless." There was a click and a tired sounding doctor answered the phone.

"Nameless here," he said.

"Dr. Nameless, this is James Nameless," he said, he picked a file Nameless had given him a few days ago, "The recommendations you sent me that I rejected...I was wrong. You can do everything except for what is in section five."

"Thank you, Mr. Nameless," said Dr. Nameless, "I assure you this will greatly help the research."

James sighed, "I want results, Doctor. I don't want to do all this and get nothing, do you understand?"

Dr. Nameless was a sensible scientist, he did not promise things he was not sure he could deliver, regardless of the money and even the lack of restraints placed upon him could guarantee results. "Mr. Nameless, I cannot promise you anything, research is difficult, but this will make a huge difference."

"Excellent," said James, "Dr. Nameless, for the next week I shall be mainly concerned with my other business interests, but I want daily updates." James put the phone down. Concerning himself with his actual business seemed like a holiday, just worrying about share prices and lobbying for less regulation in the Chinese economy seemed easy in comparison to all this.
James Nameless looked round at the table at a team of some of the brightest minds in the world, the top scientists in the world (or at least the the top scientists who could be bought off to committ terrible acts on fellow human beings in the name of research). Only a few of them could meet his stare.

"So," said James quietly, "What you're telling me is you've made no progress?" There was a murmur of agreement from around the table, "After months of work, a fortune in funding, the pain and suffering of the people in the facility, the deaths of several, and we have nothing." James did not like failure, he hated failure on this level. The worst part of all was that they had initially had some success replicating the powers of specials. Now even that device seemed to have failed them.

"This is unnacceptable," said James, "I demand progress."

"Mr. Nameless," said a middle-aged and distinguished scientist, "This is unlike anything before...you can't expect miracles in a few months."

James sighed, "Dr. Harrow...all I want is some progress." He looked thruogh a stack of papers on his desk, "I believe your team told me four months ago you were nearing a breakthrough...well?"

Dr. Harrow looked less confident, "I'm afraid we were mistaken."

"Ladies and gentlemen, please remember, we have committed terrible crimes for this research. People have died. We need something to show for it." James disliked and regretted the deaths of the innocent specials he had kidnapped. But he knew that great achievements required great sacrifices. Still, it was regrettable.

The project was shaping up to be a complete disaster and he was thinking about abandoning the whole thing. Of course, that could lead to some very unpleasant consequences. He couldn't just let the specials he had taken go.

James stood and slowly walked round the table, "Here is my solution. We shall redouble our efforts. I am instituting a lockdown on the institution, when you return no one shall leave, there shall be an end to outside communications not concerned with your work." As he moved round the table he looked at some of the more senior scientists, "Also, I am imposing a deadline. Two months. That is all we have. With no progress the project shall be abandoned." James nodded to his assistant at the door, ten of his security personnel slowly entered the room. They were silent but an air of quiet menace entered the room.

"Finally, it has been brought to my attention that rumours have begun to circulate about this project. I shall explain again, secrecy is paramount," said Nameless. "If I discover who has been doing this the consequences will be severe."

"Are you threatening us, Mr. Nameless?" asked Harrow.

"Dr. Harrow, I am not threatening you with violence," James said, adding a slight laugh, "I shall simply destroy your career and your lives. Violence won't be necessary." He returned to the head of the table, "This project has been a fiasco and when it is over I shall be making a careful review of the personnel involved and who really tried to succeed. I shall be sending an extra contingent of security to ensure my instructions are followed."

Nameless looked around the now ashen-faced scientists, "Get it done," said Nameless, and walked out of the room.