Nameless Training

Nameless's hands ran over the pictures in the book, his eyes wide and staring. Nameless Smith was seven years old, and the sword of the stone was his most favorite book. Dragons, heroes, wizards. It had them all. Every night, before bed, Mommy would come upstairs and sit on his bed with him. He'd be tucked up in his pajamas, and she'd read his favorite parts, naming all the pictures for him and giving all the characters voices. Her voice was soft, gentle, and it always made him drift off to sleep.

Merlin was his most favorite character. That was because, like Merlin, Nameless could do magic. Ever since Daddy found out, he never talked to Nameless any more. Mommy and Daddy shouted at each other a lot now, and sometimes when Nameless went into the kitchen for a juice box, she would be crying into her apron, but would never admit it. Nameless's young eyes were fixated on the powerful looking image of Merlin. Magic helped people, it saved them and made the heroes stronger. Why was his magic making people unhappy?

He looked over at the flowerpot that was on the highest shelf in his room- a single flower growing out of the top of it. Nameless didn't know what kind of flower it was, but it was very pretty. It was Mommy's favorite kind, she had only planted it this morning. But Nameless's magic made it grow so quickly, it was now huge and pretty. Mommy hadn't seen it yet, but he would show her when she came to read her story. Nameless lifted a little hand and waved it in the air, two little daisies growing out of the flowerpot either side of Mommy's favorite. This would make her happy. Everything would be normal again.

Nameless shut his book and cuddled it close to his chest. She was taking a long time. He put the book down on his blankets and used both hands to pick up his glass of water, sipping it gently and looking around his room for something to do whilst he waited for her to come upstairs. He had left his crystals out on the floor. When everything was happy a long time ago, Daddy had driven them to the beach, and they visited a cave where they sold bags of crystals and gold. Daddy had said it wasn't real gold because it was for fools. Nameless flicked his hand again, and a small group of the crystals scattered across the floor. He was getting better at magic. He lifted his hand into the air slowly, his fingetips pointed towards the crystals. A shard of quartz, Namelesss favorite stone, rose into the air with it. As Nameless flicked his hand in mid air, it floated over to him and he plucked it from the invisible grasp of his magic, and put it down on his book.

"We've done enough talking! He's not going anywhere!" Mommy's voice shouted, echoing up the stairs. Mommy was probably fighting with Daddy again. Were they talking about him? Nameless climbed out of bed, carefully padding his feet on patches of carpet that were clear of toys and crystals. His arms crossed on the book, clutched tightly to his chest, and his quartz in one hand, Nameless opened the door and walked out onto the landing. The voices were clearer, but Mommy sounded so different. Her voice wasn't gentle and sleepy anymore, not like when she read to him.

"My son is seven, how could he possibly be a danger to anyone? He cried when he couldn't bring my rosebush back to life properly. Does that sound like a killer to you?" Mommy's voice cried. It was shaky, and it sounded like she was crying, like she was unhappy again.

"I'm sorry M'am, but this is for public safety. What he can do is not safe to leave out in the open. He needs to be properly trained in order to be rehabilitated into society."

"You aren't taking him anywhere. Where do you think he got his powers from?"

"M'am, are you telling us you also have an anomalistic ability?"

"If thats what you call it know, then yes. I have an 'anomalistic' whatever. I'm going to do everything in my power to stop you taking my son."

Placing his book on the floor of the landing, and putting his quartz into the pocket of his green pajamas, Nameless gently tiptoed down the stairs, until he reached the lower half that had a banister. He gently rested his head against the carved wooden supports, looking through to the argument that was happening. Daddy was there- but he was behind another man. This man was bald, he had thick glasses on and he spoke with a very rough voice. Daddy looked ashamed, shocked. He was in his work suit, and had a badge on that was very similar to that of the bald man. Mommy was crying, and she was standing at the bottom of the stairs, stopping them from going up. Nameless held both the bars tightly. Were they going to take him somewhere?

Daddy stepped forward and raised a hand at Mommy. He wasn't pointing, his hand was open and his palm facing towards her, but something strange started to happen. His hand started to glow, and then electricity was all over it- little arcs that were jumping all over his hand. Then he held one big spark in the center, and pointed it at Mommy.

"Please, honey, move." Daddy said, his voice was different and shaky like Mommy's. Was Daddy magic like him? This was great! Mommy liked Nameless's magic, and now that Daddy had some magic too it meant that they could be like they were before.

"How could you do this?" Mommy said, tears streaming down her face, wiping her blonde hair back behind her ears. "How could you rat us out like this? Break up you're family? Destroy everything we had spent all this time building?"

"Don't cry Mommy." Nameless whispered gently, and all three adults's heads snapped up in unison, staring at Nameless hiding behind the banister and staring through back at them. Daddy's hand snapped back to normal and he put it in his pocket, faking a smile up at Nameless, and the bald man did the Same.

"Come here, baby." Mommy said, wiping her tears on her sleeve and giving Nameless a short embrace before pushing him to hide behind her. He held onto her sweater tightly, burying his face in it and taking in the smell. It was the Same as it always was, a mixture of the perfume Daddy liked and the stuff Mommy washed the clothes in. Beside them, the potted houseplant's leaves were growing to incredible lengths, reaching the floor and piling up.

"Ma'am it may even be only a few months before he is properly trained. Children are fast learners." The bald man said through his teeth as he grinned down at Nameless, trying his best to be friendly but coming across as plain creepy. Daddy was silent.

Then, like a flash, the man was on the floor and was holding his nose. Blood was coming out of it, and he was making strange noises as he touched his nose and looked at the blood on his fingers. Mommy had moved faster than Nameless had ever seen anything move, she had just turned into a blur and then reappeared again a split second later. She must have magic too! Everything was going to be alright, and they could all live together magically. Just like in the book. Nameless clung to her again as she stepped back to him, and she put one hand behind her back to hold his. Daddy took both hands out of his pockets. They were making lightning again.

"Please, honey, this is the only way.."

"Only way for what? For them to take my seven year old son into that... that... company, train him to be a weapon, then spit him back out again? That isn't going to happen."

She became a blurr again, and managed to hit Daddy's arms just before he fired, so that they were off aim and the lightning arcs fired into a display cabinet, shattering the glass and spraying wood chips across the floor. Nameless ducked into a corner next to the plant. He watched as Daddy fought with her, she was holding his wrists, and then he hit her in the stomach. She keeled over, gasping for air, and Nameless ran out of his corner and started to kick and punch Daddy's thigh, tears streaming down his face.

"Stop it! Stop it Daddy you're hurting her!" He wailed, and he swung out an arm, not hurting him- Daddy would never hurt him- but pushing him down to the ground some feet away.

"One day, Nameless, You'll thank me for helping you like this." He said, and turned back to look at Mommy. But she wasn't there. With a gust of wind and a blur, she had hit him around the head with his signed bat that hung above the couch, and Daddy fell to the floor unconscious. Mommy looked over at the bald man. He had some kind of gun, and he was pointing it at Nameless.

"No!" Mommy screamed as it fired, and she became a blur again. She ran over to Nameless, and for the last time, she hugged him. For that split second, he was holding her. He could smell her beautiful smell, her hair was in his eyes, her warmth made him feel safe. For the last time, he held her. For that split second, their love was their strongest protection. She held his shoulders and smiled at him. Nameless wanted this to last forever. That one hug was better than any story she could ever speak.

Her eyes closed. "Mommy?" Nameless said, a hint of fear in his voice. She fell over onto her side. "MOMMY!" Nameless screamed, his voice shaky and petrified. A tranquilizer dart stuck out of her back, but Nameless had no idea what it was. She must be dead. That man had shot his mommy.

Tiny tears streamed down his young face, and the seven year old's face was full of hate and contempt.

"YOU KILLED HER" He screamed, half out of desperation and anguish and half out of deep hatred. He was crying so much he could hardly breath. Cracks started to shoot across the ceiling. The walls started to fracture, and the floor begain to shake. The man tried to load another tranquilizer into the gun, but a piece of rock from the wall flew towards the gun and knocked it out of his hands, pinning it against the opposite wall. Pieces of the ceiling were starting to fall, and dust was flying out of the cracks in the walls as they widened and multiplied.

"Look, Nameless, Stop. Calm down-" The man tried to explain. But Nameless wasn't listening. He was a seven year old boy. He hadn't loved anyone in the world nearly as much as he loved the two people laying unconscious on the floor behind him, and to him, it was entirely this man's fault. Pain, sorrow, anger and hate were all taking hold of Nameless's ability. Huge pieces of the wall started to fall down, parts caving in. A huge chunk of rock flew off the wall, and the sharpest edge flew into the man's head, his blood spattering out over the floor and his limp form falling to the ground.

Nameless crouched in place, holding his knees. His head was tearing in half, he had gone to far, he couldn't control his magic any longer. It had gone over the deep end. Nameless sobbed into the knees of his favorite pajamas as his house, his world, his memories, crashed down around him. The foundations became to weak- and the entire structure collapsed. Nameless screamed. He just wanted the hug back. He wanted to be hugging Mommy. He just wanted to be in his bed, his duvet gently holding him, and his Mommy's sweet and gentle voice reading him The Sword and the Stone.

His powers had protected him from being crushed. But the seven year old boy waited there in the pitch-black silence and darkness for hours and hours, waiting for his Mommy to pull a piece aside, cast light into the darkness, and hold him.

The tired and broken window panes of the worn down old warehouse just outside New York shook in their frames as the bass of the music inside grew stronger. Young men and women were approaching from all directions, some in groups, and some alone. People who were walking alone were wary- it was the dead of night, and it wasn't a good neighborhood. But those who were with friends were laughing, having a great time, exitedly waiting for the evening's unofficial dance competition. It was monthly, they called it B-Ware. Ironically named after it's warehouse location, it was the peak of the local underground dance scene. And inside, with a small group of friends and finesse for dance, was Namelessan Bellarosa.

"Nameless, girl, You wanna Drink?" Asked Geri, one of her closest friends. She was the one who got her most, understood her, because Geri's dad had been shot down in a drive by not very soon before Nameless's mother had been diagnosed with cancer. Nameless felt closer to her somehow for this reason. It made her feel like they had a connection.

"Oh Geri, I dunno. Its ten thirty already, my curfew was at nine. My dad's gonna crap a house, I'm already on probation after last week." Nameless complained. The week before, she had gone to a similar party at an abandoned factory, and got into a spur of the moment competition, ending up not leaving until the early hours of the morning. It turned out she didn't get much sleep that night at all, as her dad had waited up for her and had a few things to yell before Nameless could get to bed.

"To hell with that dude, girl." Geri said, snapping her fingers in the air. "He doesn't understand this talent you got. You leave now, we'll never survive the next round! You're here now, enjoy the thing. You can deal witch yo' dad later!"

Nameless laughed as she was dragged away by the wrist, clutching hold of her cap with her other hand as she was pulled through the crowds. Maybe Geri was right. Whilst she was here, she should just enjoy the party. After all, it did only happen once a month. Dad would be sore for a few days, but he'd get over it. He always did. In fact, the amount of times that Nameless had been easily convinced to stay out was getting stupid. But every time, he eventually caved in. Nameless didn't know why this was, but it might be that she reminded him of Mom. She hoped this wasn't true- she didn't want to be hurting him.

As they eventually reached the bar, Nameless frowned. This was a warehouse, why was there a bar? But as she got closer, she could see that it was far from a real one. It was slapped together with various pieces of wood, street art and graffiti sprayed all over it so that it fitted in. Were they had managed to get the warehouse's power turned back on, a few fridges and a cocktail mixer were all wired up behind the bartender, who was dressed no differently from anyone else here. The only was you could tell he wasn't just another kid was the way he was polishing glasses- trying to fit the part.

"Hey Nameless, a drink for me and dance royalty next to me, ok?" Geri called, waving one hand in the air to draw the bartenders attention and the other to point to Nameless. She blushed. Geri always did this, just because Nameless was pretty good at dancing.

"Hey Geri. You not going to introduce me?" The bartender said, who Nameless now knew was called Nameless. He pushed two plastic cups over the wooden surface and Nameless took it up straight away and started to drink from it. She really didn't like beer, but it meant she could avoid introducing herself and seeming big headed. He was kind of cute.

"Oh yea, Nameless, meet my girl Nameless. She's the one who's going to help me and Carla wipe the floor with all this trash," Geri boasted, flicking back her hair and shaking her hips to the music as a little display of what was to come. Carla was the third member of their little temporary dance group, but they were not as close to her as they were to each other, so she had gone to spend some time with some friends for a while.

"Is that so." Nameless answered, smirking and looking Nameless up and down. "I can't wait to see that. Hi Nameless."

He held out a hand to shake, and Nameless took it. He gripped pretty tightly, so she did the Same back. He grinned, and she did the Same. "Hey Nameless." She answered confidently.

They made idle conversation with Nameless for another half hour, and he seemed like a really genuine and funny guy. It was only on their way over to the centre of the warehouse that Geri pointed out he was already married, and had two little twin boys at home- he did the bar jobs here every month for some extra cash for himself. It didn't surprise Nameless that he was already settled down, he was a nice guy and any girl who knew what she had would latch onto him.

As they reached the centre of the warehouse, people were already starting to part and a rough empty circle was forming. People were still dancing, but there was tape on the floor that marked out a kind of arena- anyone who wasn't part of a group had to stand behind them. It was easy to notice how badly prepared they were- other groups had entirely matching outfits or the Same colour scheme. Some even had printed hoodies, their names and logos printed across their backs. Nameless, and Geri weren't wearing anything alike.

"Hey you two!" They heard a voice calling. Nameless spun on the spot and Geri did the Same. It was Carla, running toward them and tieing up her long blonde hair into a ponytail. She was carrying what looked like a huge red blanket screwed up into a ball.

"Hey Carla, How late you wanna be?" Nameless laughed, giving her a playful push into the shoulder. "What the hell is that?"

Carla grinned. "These are our new image, girls. Check."

She unballed and revealed three red hoodies, sleeveless, cropped short so that they only just came down over the ribs, and showed plenty of stomach and hip. They were nice- and now it was obvious that they were all dancing together. After pulling hers on around her shoulders and zipping it up at the front, she looked over each shoulder, trying to picture how she might look in it.

"Thanks Carla!" Nameless and Geri chorused, and they laughed together. Carla finished zipping hers up and pulled the hood up over her head.

"Yea don't forget me when you're famous. These things were thirty dollars each, but I'm gonna let that slide 'cause I like you." She laughed, and put an arm over each of their shoulders. "Lets kill it."

Carla had always been the weakest dancer, but she was great with style and graphic design. If they ever got this group serious, then she would definately be their image designer. She had already made them a poster and and edited together a video for them all, which were really great looking and features a lot of artistic effect. She was incredibly far from a bad dancer, at all, but she made her best contribution to the group with her other work.

As the registered troups were called out over the dj's microphone, they found out that they were third. That was good- they weren't last, so they wouldn't be after all the good people, but they weren't first, so they had a good chance to scout the competition. As they watched the first group walk on- all male, in white vests, and in baggy blue jeans and a black bandanna- they were in awe. They were world class dancers. They all moved perfectly in time, in the exact Same position, as if they were all on the Same puppet strings. Each movement was perfectly and seamlessly linked to the next, and they linked with the music so well that it made the hairs on the back of Nameless's neck stand on end.

Nameless looked to her left, and to her right, and noticed that Geri and Carla were both staring with their mouths open. Carla's hand rose to her mouth and she covered it over. They were nowhere near that good yet. Nameless wasn't big headed, but she knew she was easily close in a freestyle, but they just weren't that well choreographed in a group yet. They were just starting out, and these men had obviously been at it since they had first learned to walk. Carla was the first to speak.

"You two. I just don't think we can compete yet." She said, downtrodded and dissapointed. "Lets just go. We can compete in the next one. We need a lot more practice. We ain't never gonna get respect for our group if we bomb at something as big as this."

All three of them knew she was right. But they waited for the next display, and their fears only grew more. This group was small, just three like theirs, but they had two girls and a boy. The girls were in perfect sync, doing a variety of awe inspiring dances whilst the boy freestyled and performed alone inbetween them. Then when they all danced together, it got even worse. They were perfect- like they were the Same mind in three different bodies. Nameless looked away. If they were going to drop out, they would have to do it before they were due up or everyone would watch them leave.

"Lets just go." Nameless said, and started to push through the crowd.

"Nameless, no!" Geri said, grabbing her shoulder and spinning her around. "You're world class, Nameless! You can do this without us if you wanted!"

"I'm not going to. We're in this together, I'm not going to do it alone."

"Nameless.."

"No." She said, putting her foot down. "Girls I'm leaving. I'm going home before my dad gets his baseball bat and comes out to find whoever has me."

It was easy to joke about, but it still hurt. They were probably right. If she just waited until the freestyle competition, she could win them the respect and the prize money. But they had come here together, and she wasn't leaving them to get glory for herself.

The friends walked out of the warehouse together, and danced and laughed home, stopping at each other's houses. Nameless's house was furthest away, so she was going to have to walk a short distance by herself, at- checking her watch- one in the morning. Four whole hours after curfew. She hoped to god that her dad wasn't still up, that for some wierd reason he had gone to bed before nine, trusting her to be in by that time.

As she got to the front lawn of her house, she looked up at her dad and Anna's room window. The light was off, which was a very good sign. She couldn't see the lounge from the front lawn, and that was were he would be waiting for her. She wasn't out of the woods yet. Reaching the regal and majestic front door, she took her keys out of her pocket and let herself in, slowly shutting the door with her eyes squeezed tightly shut, trying not to make a sound.

James woke with a start, as he rubbed his head. He must have bumped the window. He was still on the coach with Jake, but nobody else was.
James stood up and left the sleeping Jake to check for a driver. Empty seat. James, frustrated, kicked the drivers seat and threw himself into a seat behind him. The driver would have meant well letting them sleep, but now they would have missed their job interviews. Some new life this was turning out to be.
James hadn't realised at first, but when he kicked the chair he had woken Jake. James pressed the button to open the coach door before he had to engage in conversation, and walked out to lean against the coach.
They were in some kind of warehouse, which he guessed must be the coach station because there were so many others. The smell of petrol was strong, as he walked around looking for an exit his footsteps echoed. He found one and started to walk back to the coach to his brother.
Jake opened the door and walked down into the Coach station. His brother was walking back to the coach and as he spoke his voice echoed like their footsteps.
'Stupid Coach driver, should have woken us up or something' he spat.
'Yea, there was a coach full of people, you'd have thought one of them would have tried to wake us' Jake remarked. 'Lets get our bags, I've just found out something much more important'
'What's That?
'Im hungry' Jake grinned, grabbing his bag and bolting for the exit, closely followed by James.

"Are yiou sure what you thought happend did happen?" A voice said, the calm, crips and nice voice. A Shrinks. "Yes, i'm sure of it, why don't you beleive me!" Nameless snapped, laying down on the sofa, which wasn't really a sofa made it all seem so stupid.

"The medication you're on can sometimes induce hallusinations, this might be one of them" The voice argued, but this wasn't an arguement, it was Nameless rgueing with himself. The man wouldn't admit to him being wrong, and the fact that his brother died through shock from electricity and Nameless survived. "It happend, a hallusination isn't real, but my brothers death is!".

Anger had, for a long time been bottled up in Dogulas, anger from the fact that he had an ability to channel electiricty through him, angry that his brother couldn't, angry that his brother died. "Why wont you understand, I'm not depressed anymore, just angry" Nameless said plainly, like the day he was allowed not to go to the Shrink, he was happy. But this, this was a new low.

"You get this impression, that i'm not ok, when I am, i'm prefectly fine. What will it take for you to understand!" Nameless shouted in rage. "You've been to the police station 6 times in a month for starting fights in clubs. Tried jumping off a bride 3 times, only to end up here. And you say you're ok." The shrink said, calm, but he was insulted. His eyes said it all.

"I'm leaving, and if, I swear to god. If you come after me again, I will kill you." Nameless said, standing up from the Chair-Sofa, thing. He took one last look at the place he had been sent to so many times over so many years, the books on science which eh had read when left alone here, the candle on the desk which he had set alight with his ability, the sofa he had scorched through at the bottum. "It'll be nice not seeing you." Nameless said coldly.

"Nameless, Wait." The shrink said, surprisingly, a hug was what Nameless didn't expect, but it was nice. "You'll do well, Just stay out of trouble." The shrink said, Holding Nameless in an embrace.
"Yeah yeah.." Nameless said, walking away. Never to look back at the hell hole that is, Richards Shrink Services Ltd.

Date: 3/5/1982


You clean that up now you Dirty scheming hoe! A voice shouted, Jessica's fathers voice. Jessica sat there, watching in the front room chair, watching her mum get kicked and punched all over spilling a cup of tea on the floor. Cries, moans. Hits. Was all that filled Jessica's ears. It should have been noises of balamory and big cook and little cook. But dreams don't come true that easily. Crying and wailing, hitting then crying. Crying. So much crying. But Jessica watched, taking note of every little thing what was happening.

For a long time it seemed that Jessica slept with her eyes open. Afraid of what could happen to her if she shut them, shut them to sleep. But this wasn't so. The happy-go-lucky girl that Jessica was, Aged 7. Was no more, ceased to exist. Wiped off the face of the earth. Gone. No more "Sweet Little Jess". No, No "Isn't she so cute when she smiled" No. None of that.

Date: 17/9/1992


18. Jessica's stomach ached, pained. Hurt. Why don't you give us a little.. show. the elderly man said, choking on the smoke from his cigar he blew it in her face. She turned away. Go on! Git' the man ordered. But Jessica was shut off. Not having any of the treatment she and her mother had been having for more then 10 years now. The man placed a hand on her leg. Jessica got up, from the old, rickety chair she was sat. "Touch me and I will hurt you" Jessica said, her eyes flashed with evil. The man moved his hand up her leg. Then. Bang. The man had Jessica pinned down. "Woo hoo we've got a feisty one here." The man said, with a fake cowboy accent.

Jessica struggled for air, normal, none-polluted air. The man's face lingered over hers. "Get off me! Help Help!" She shouted.
"No ones in remember, bingo" he laughed. Jessica was alone. Alone with this freak of a man. But no more. The man began ripping off her clothes. "No please!" Jessica begged. The man continued. "Now!" She shouted. The man didn't listen. The feeling of his flesh on her. Brought anger into Jessica. An Anger in which sh had never felt. Jessica laughed. "You honestly think this would work! Ha, you're more pathetic than your dying wife." she snapped. The man looked confused. This wasn't the Jessica 5 minutes ago

"Oh I'm sorry, how's the cancer?" sh laughed. Slapping the man's face he flinched but didn't move. Jessica hit a nerve. "You filthy whore!" the man insulted. But Jessica was away, away in her on world of thoughts. Focused thoughts. The man punched her arms. The arms which she was holding onto him with an iron grip. But Jessica didn't care. The anger flushed out of her. A smell of smoke, a smell of burning flesh.

The man shouted, in agony and in pain. Till one last breath and bang. A burst of flames, a shower of ash. The man was no-more. Combusted into nothing but mere ashes on the rug. Jessica laughed. Manically. There was nothing she could do un-do what she did. The anger was gone, the pain was gone. Jessica stood up. "I told you to get off me." she said plainly, to nothing but a collection of ashes.

"What happened? Where's burny?" An elderly woman asked. But no-one else was in the room. No-one else in the house. "Burny?" she shouted. No-reply. That's all Jessica could have heard from down the street. The dimly light banking off the cul-de-sac gave her the perfect cover.

Then she was Gone.

Nameless arose from his small apartment bed. Hungry for some cereal, even though he knew it was only 5am. The nightmares he had been having a lately lead him to keep waking up. However, every time he arose. He built up a ball of electricity in a palm, lighting the area with a blue tint. Even thought Nameless didn't know why. "Is it me?" he thought to himself, For some reason every time he walked into a dark room he wanted to bring up electricity.

"Cereal, Cereal, Joy oh! cereal..!" he sang. As he began eating his favorite UK Sugar puffs. Crunching away, in the dark Nameless dropped his bowl. Even though to any person it looked like he did it on purpose. But Nameless knew otherwise. "The nightmare." he mummed. Scarce in his tone. If you followed Nameless's eyes you would see the tall Dark Figure stood in the corner of the room. "This is just a dream." he thought to himself, Curiosity overwhelming him. Forgetting about the cereal Nameless willed his ability into action. However this time it worked over time. A bright, blue ball of electricity built up in Nameless's palm. "This is just a dream." he repeated.

The dark figure began to creep forward, no sound coming from each step he took. Nameless took small steps away. "Get back, I will hurt you." Nameless shouted, His voice firm. But the figure crept forward. Nameless released his grip. The beam of electricity landing at the figure until. Hit. Nameless held the beam of electricity, driven by fear and rage. But he couldn't keep it up for long. Nameless stopped the beam. Swaying side to side. Too much energy wasted.

There the figure lay, Smoke entering up Nameless's nose. But how would he explain this? He couldn't. And what if someone herd the beam hit the wall behind the man. What would he do? He couldn't run. "Out.. Of." The idea snapped in Nameless's head. Yet, he wouldn't understand how to. Flicking the light switch the room filled with light. But it was the switch, Nameless ripped away at the plastic. The wires exposed.

Thinking and various plans whipped through Nameless's head. "If i.." but before Nameless knew it, To a normal person they would have been shocked. But this was Nameless. The small bits of electricity dimmed the light. Nameless was happy, The blue energy surged through his body like a drug. But then stopped. Fully absorbed. A weird yet awkward smile crossed Nameless's lips.

Nameless – or Gabriel, as he was ‘reforming’ to be – walked down the wide, marble corridors of the Kirby Plaza facility of the self-empowering Company. He had been here twice before and neither had ended well. Not for him and especially not for the Company. Twice he had been stripped of his powers – first permanently and then temporarily – but both times the Company had lost valuable members of their ranks. On his last visit he had taken the brain – and thus the ability – of Bob Bishop, the forerunner of the Company and its main financer. How ironic it would be if he was next approached to supplement their dwindling funds. And if he was? Well, how could he refuse? After all, the better resources the Company had – the better the resources he had. Even with his rather limited security clearance, he was but an inch away from a handful of files that would give him access to everything he ever wanted and so so much more. In fact, behind the door to his left was a main archive. Cabinets full of nobodies who had been bagged, tagged and release to the wild to frolic in their natural environment; either unaware or afraid of the power at their finger tips. They wouldn’t have to worry for long – he would alleviate them of their burdens soon enough.

The next corner: the place where he had taken a magnificent ability from one of the Company foot soldiers. She had been able to find him amongst the chaos, sensing his presence and power through wielding her own. When he had cut her head open she screamed as though possessing all the voices of all the people she could feel. Oh the happy memories! Too bad things had went sour so soon afterwards. Peter The demon and a curious shape shifting blonde had tricked him, infecting him with the Warp virus and stripping away that magnificent power and all but one of the others. Following his recovery from the Warp virus – thanks to the ever helpful Claire Bennett and her blood of tricks – he had retained his acquired ability of telekinesis. Even with his innate ability of intuitive aptitude, it eluded him why he had retained that ability beyond the others. Still, it aided him greatly in his quest for reclaiming what he had lost. Cutting open heads with a tradition blade could be such hard work sometimes. Then, he had only done it once. Perhaps there was something in that?

A hard knock to his shoulder snapped him out of his inner thoughts. An agent of the Company – wearing the Same black suit and tie as he himself did – eyeballed him from over his shoulder as Nameless looked over his at the man. Apparently the man had gotten the reaction he wish, a satisfied grin twisted on his lips – he had gotten Nameless’s attention, that much was sure. What would follow might not be to the man’s approval.

“Got a problem?” The man asked roughly as he turned to face Nameless properly, squaring up to him. “I have a corridor of us that say you don’t.”

One of us. One of them. That was the Company motto, wasn’t it? Though Nameless could tell he wasn’t referring to the Same biblical ‘us’ at that particular slogan. Those of the Company, and those that aimed to bring it down, to watch it burn in flames while they reaped the spoils of the grand entity that was. Nameless might have been alone – his only ‘protection’ afford to him by Angela on an official basis – but if this man expected him to shy away, he was sorely mistaken.

“No problem at all.” Gabriel replied calmly, “Though I might suggest you have your eyes examined…” he added in a level voice as he cocked his head at the man.

Was he special? Did he have an ability? Was it worth ripping from his inadequate head in a corridor full of his friends and allies? The hunger within him lurched at the thought. It had been so long since had fed the Need within him. Corrine, the Welcome Home gift of his so-called mother, had gone a long way to satisfying the hunger that had built up through his incarceration, but it was far from enough to quench it entirely. If this man had something worth taking…

Wetness struck Nameless’s face as the man spat at him, a twist of disgust and self-righteousness contorting the man’s face. He felt invincible, Nameless could relate to that, and in a building full of people would happily kill the man he had just spat on, why shouldn’t he? It was a power play if Nameless had ever seen one. Spit on the nemesis and get away with it – instant fame, instant glory and the knowledge that you had stepped on the tail of the wolf and walked away unscathed. After that, the wolf would never seem as scary again.

Nameless wiped the man’s spit from his face as he fixed him with a dark stare, his eyes boring into the very soul of the agent.

“What?” The man barked in defiance, “Going to do something about it? Going to prove Dear Mommy wrong about you? Go on, I dare you.”

A nice trump card. Word had got around that he had been trying to make a good impression. Playing on that need – it was a fine strategy. Of course, it was based on the assumption that he gave a damn what Angela The demon thought about him. While he did – or pretended to – for the time being, he was more than aware that the old crow was no more his mother than a woman with a snow globe obsession was. Whatever Angela The demon’s reasons were, she wanted him to believe that he was her son. Ironically the very gift she had given him in the form of Corrine had let him see into her past, had let him see that he wasn’t from the Same family tree as the The demon’s; not Angela The demon at the least.

Nameless smirked as he snapped his hand sideways towards the nearest wall, the man who had assaulted him following a similar path as he collided brutally against the cold, hard marble. The unholstering of guns echoed through the corridor as the friends he had bargained with drew their weapons; only to have them yanked from their hands and spun to face themselves an instant later.

“The last time I stood hear, I tore the brain out of a young woman.” Nameless growled at the man’s face, “She screamed and begged for mercy, but I took her ability anyway. I would ask you if you have one too, but even if you did, you wouldn’t tell me. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t rip it out your skull and have a look for myself?”

Nameless raised his hand, preparing to cut across the man’s forehead. His eyes bulged in fear as he stared down what could be his final moments. Defiance had ignited in them at first, though began to seep away as he struggled to break free and failed. He could take what he wanted, Nameless knew that, but there was so much more to be gained in patience. He could pull the lock off the door holding the files any day and be gone before anyone even missed them. What was one hapless man compared to the treasure trove that awaited him? Besides, he had made his point.

Snapping his raised finger down sharply, a gush of blood sprayed from the man’s face as a strip of flesh was telekinetically tore from his face, taking the best part of his eyelid with it.

“Something to remember me by.” Nameless snarled, cutting off the man’s screams as he turned to walk away, the suspended guns pistol-whipping their respective owners to the ground.

No one would challenge him again, not so passively anyway. Next time might be a lot… messier. That was, of course, if he waited around long enough to find out.

I won't come with you, Adara... not now. Not ever."

Jane's words echoed in her head. She had expected more from the young woman. Adara had seen kindness in her heart from the time they had spent together and now, even when faced with the possibility of bumping into a stranger and devastating the entire country, Jane had opted not to go with her and be 'disarmed' of the ticking time bomb she essentially was. Instead, she had followed the misguided interpretations of the Company offered to her by Peter The demon.

"I'm sorry." Adara breathed in response as the world seemed to suddenly sink into slow motion.

Her hand whipped at the sidearm behind her back, pulling it around and aiming directly at Jane's head in one, single, fluidic motion. Jane had been a friend - or at least the closest thing Adara had to being called a friend - in the past few months, but now she was a liability. The continued, unchecked, free reign of her ability was no longer acceptable. With her rejecting the chance to come peacefully for her power to be removed safely, the only option remaining to Adara was Jane's death. A task that would be made infinitely more difficult by Peter's presence.

The gun was aimed squarely at Jane's forehead, a fatal shot when fired. Adara's finger hovered on the trigger for a moment, a brief fraction of a second of hesitation where there should be none.

Then, she fired.

Blood exploded into the air, spraying gore across the otherwise pristine apartment. Peter stood motionless at the falling body's side. Adara ran over and, through the red splashes of blood, her own face stared back at her.

The room suddenly seemed colder and what had once been a bright apartment was now shifted into an ethereal blue. Adara's eyes snapped up towards where Peter had been standing, now replaced by the figure of her father.

"You're either fast, or you're dead." Her father offered as coldly as ever.



Adara snapped up in a cold sweat in her bed. It was a dream. Of course it was a dream. Still, it seemed to seep into her soul, chilling it and leaving crystals of a cold frost within. She hadn't dreamt of her father for years, not since she had accepted her responsibility and justification in her shooting him. She had always lived by his mantra, though. That only the slow die young, that you either die, or you're fast enough to live another day. It was that simple in his eyes. It was something that he had beaten - quite literally - into his daughter at a young age.

For all his faults as a father, it was one of the few things she could honestly say he was right in. She had hesitated in shooting Jane, what emotional links she had with the woman had saved Jane's life.

And it might have cost Adara her own.

There was only one solution. Only one way to restore peace to her troubled mind. Jane had to be killed.

Short black hair, deep dark hazel eyes; Big buff muscular body. This was the hieght before Kyle's son was adopted. He was young, healthy, wealthy and not a care in the world. He had jst completed his a-level in psychology and Spanish with English Lit and English langage; yes, it was in england, and not in the capital. But life was good, life was werth living.

Walking down the bright high-street kyle found something that caught his attention; this 'something' was an ad in store looking for a representative for them. yes, the store wasn't a multi-national but it was something. Stepping inside kyle looked at the layout of the clothes store. "Nice" Kyle said; he had never been in this store, and didn't care. Pacing up to the counter; he gave a look at the counter clerk. "Urgh yeah; i read your notice outside and was wondering whether that was still going." Kyle's voice spoke. "No," The person replied. without thinking, kyle just began to leave. his hopes was let down once more.
The next day, coming back from College; kyle saw the Same sign out of the Same store - this obviously agrovated him, resulting in him storming into the store. Looking at the Same clerk. "I demand to get an interview for that job.!" Kyle ordered. Instantly; the clerk's face lit up. "You don't need to." the clerk paused. "You have it." he followed up. Having nothing to say was the first time this had happened for Kyle. "I have the job, already?" Kyle then replied.

"yes, you was the only person to come back after being rejected, it's just like a movie." the clerk said; partly going off into his own world. "Cool -" Kyle paused. "what do i do?" he then asked; he had no time to pre-pare for anything. i guess this is just one of those things. Kyle thought - mesmorized by what had just happened.
"All's you have to do is right a review and stick it on any good website; obviously you'll have to say your 'River islands' first consultant." the clerk said. "Oh My God!" Kyle gasped. "You have to be kidding me." he then said, knowing it wasn't a joke.
"I want it in by tommorow; and i want it atleast 5 pages." the clerk said. "here the criteria" he then passed him it. "Go; be free." he then sad; urging kyle to get back onto it.

Kyle left the store with a smile on his face, he began to read the crieria; he whizzed through it knowing what he was going to put on everything. on the bus home Kyle began; taking out a notepad and pen jotting things down.
The next day; at 9.00am Kyle awaited the clerk. "here" kyle then spoke to the clerk. "eleven pages on why your store is the best etc." Kyle smiled.

Months later Kyle had been recognised for being the best preformance on a consultation the highstreet had ever seen! This; is the beginning of the Head of Chief of a good newspaper. This was just the beginning.

CHAPTER ONE
"THE HIGHWAY HOME"


I have climbed the hills of view
And looked at the world and descended;
I have come by the highway home,
And lo, it is ended.
-- Robert Frost --


March 19, 2003



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 favorite 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 semblance 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…

CHAPTER TWO
“ONE LUMINARY CLOCK”


And further still at an unearthly height
One luminary clock against the sky
Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.
I have been one acquainted with the night.
-- Robert Frost --


June 9, 2003



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 swallowed 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 glowed 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 generous, 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.

TO BE CONTINUED...

“Take it.” Nameless looked up at the old woman imploringly. She shook her head slowly and her repeated himself. They sat on old wooden chairs, a worn table between them. Sun shone through the kitchen window and illuminated their faces. On the table before Nameless sat a pile of notes – fifty, sixty pounds maybe. It wasn’t a whole lot – but it was something, though not nearly enough to repay that deeds the old woman and her husband had done for him.

Over three months now he had been living in the spare room upstairs. Not once did Jemimah or her husband ask for monetary compensation. But now that Nameless was preparing to leave, he had no intention of leaving them empty-handed. They had blessed him and he believed firmly that he should do his utmost to return the favour. She, however, was not particularly willing to take the money. She had a truly pure heart.

Perhaps it had to do with the fact that they had formed a friendship, bound together in their own grief and through each other they had managed to progress. Nameless, at least, had begun to regain a sense of normality, though he still quivered at the mention of Helena’s name. There were bad memories that he wished he could repress, but knew would haunt him for eternity. Jemimah, too, suffered from a sense of grief. She had lost someone very dear to her in recent years and had still not fully coped with the dilemma. When pressed, she refused to elaborate on circumstance, and her husband had done the Same.

“Please,” said Nameless, with beseeching smile, “Take it. I know it doesn’t make up for the expenses, but it’s the least I can do.” She looked up at him, her eyes beginning to gloss over with imminent weeping. “Please.” He slid the pile of money across the table. It sat there for a moment, before Jemimah pushed it back.

“I didn’t help you for this. I helped you because I knew what you were going through. I...” She stopped, her voice suddenly catching in her throat. She turned her head to gaze thoughtfully out the kitchen window. Nameless cast his eyes to the floor, racking his brains for some way to get his hostess to take the money. His thoughts were interrupted when she spoke. Quietly, in a slow, solemn voice. She seemed distant and yet there was a strength in her tone that conveyed a sense of hope and love.

“It was my daughter.”

“Sorry?” said Nameless, glancing up to see her still gazing out the window.

“I lost my daughter almost two years ago. If she was still alive, she’d be your age.” She paused momentarily, but continued with dignity. “She had fallen into a relationship with a young man who was new to the land. I thought it strange at the time as he had a distinct British accent. Nevertheless, they were growing close. It concerned me – as I knew very little about him and he did not have the courtesy to introduce himself. I simply knew him as Adam.

“I voiced an objection to their partnership and she brushed me off, telling me that she loved him. And it was true. I could see it in her eyes. They grew closer and closer. One evening he took her out to the nearest city. To a club or a... something or other. I’ve always hoped it had just been to an innocent dinner at a restaurant and I hold to that belief. On the way home late at night, they lost control of the car and crashed.

“She was killed instantly. That’s what the police said, anyway. They said Adam should be dead as well – he had left substantial amounts of blood in the car. But he was nowhere to be found. They didn’t even find him in the surrounding fields and they searched for weeks. He simply vanished. And left me with a dead daughter.”

Her recollection completed, she breathed slowly and turned back to face Nameless. “I know what it’s like to lose someone close to your heart. Try to move on, as I’ve said, Nameless, but never, ever forget Helena. I never want to forget my Heather. They may be gone in body, but they will always be with you in spirit.

“I have no need for the money. It was enough to help you in this difficult time. To counsel you in your difficulties. That’s all I need. Keep your money.”

She smiled and stood. Walking slowly around the table, she embraced him in a warm, motherly hug. “Take care Nameless. And God bless you.”

TO BE CONTINUED...

To: Geoff Makoric(g.makoric@amblerpublishing.com)
From: Erin Pasdar (ELilly.Pasdar@gmail.com)
Date: 01 April 2008
Subject: Hope I didn't miss much
Attachments: 02/ 04/08Article.doc

Hey,

I suppose you've heard about the accident I had; hit by a car, two week coma ... I know, I'm pretty accident prone I guess. Well, I've missed a lot, so I was hoping to catch up on everything. I just came out of it two days ago, so I've been trying to get back in the groove of things.

I know it looks terrible for me: missing a week in January because of family, and missing two now. If you want, I can make up the time this month, or another time if you need me to. So, I just wanted to apologize for that.

I heard I missed another of the Helix Kills, but I got a tip off about a scene earlier today and I managed to get there with the rest of the crowd. I already had Colin look over the draft, and I just wanted to send you a copy to hear your thoughts on it. The article is the attached document in the e-mail.

- Erin

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To: Erin Pasdar (ELilly.Pasdar@gmail.com)
From: Geoff Makoric(g.makoric@amblerpublishing.com)
Date: 01 April 2008
Subject: RE:Hope I didn't miss much

Hey,

I'm very sorry to hear about your accident - but I'm glad you've recovered well and that you've already jumped right back into the midst of everything.

Well, it certainly seems that while you've been MIA, all we seem to have gotten was a series of copycats - so not much there. However, your article is good - solid. I don't think there's much I really need to fix. Congraulations there.

However, I just want you to have one more look into the victim. He may not be important, but the name struck me as familiar. You may not be aware, but one of the founders of Ambler was a Gould. Although I had little to do with him, his son was set to run a new branch, but that was called off after a family tragedy. Point of the matter, however. I seem to recall that there was an Elliott in the family who lived here in the States.

It may be coincidence or it may simply be that I've misremembered a detail, but I would like you to try to have a quick look into that before the article goes to print.

Once again, glad to have you back.

Geoff

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

To: Geoff Makoric(g.makoric@amblerpublishing.com)
From: Erin Pasdar (ELilly.Pasdar@gmail.com)
Date: 01 April 2008
Subject: RE:Hope I didn't miss much

Well I did some research; turns out Elliot Gould was related to one of Ambler's founders. The son of the founder you mentioned who was going to run a branch of the company is named Nameless; his father was Elliot Gould's first cousin.

Turns out Elliot's father is dead - died of cancer, and Elliot's been estranged from most the family for quite some time. He came over here to go to med-school, but became a mortician instead. He was convicted of one count of assault and one count of harassment back in the summer of 2005, but he was only put on four months house arrest. Apparently they couldn't prove intent - it was an older man he attacked, by name of Clifford Wentworth.

I don't know how close he was to the rest of the family; not very, from what I could dig up - he hasn't had much contact with any one of his relatives for a while. Still, I'm not sure if the extended family already knows or not ... it might be good to notify them.

Are you concerned about having to make a retraction or a reprint? I did mention the charges against Gould from three years ago for their relevancy to the police investigations in my article, but I've had times when families don't want that sort of thing printed about their relatives.

- Erin

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

To: Erin Pasdar (ELilly.Pasdar@gmail.com)
From: Geoff Makoric(g.makoric@amblerpublishing.com)
Date: 02 April 2008
Subject: RE:Hope I didn't miss much

Thanks for tracking that down - I really appreciate it. I'll try to get in touch with the family. I know I've got contact details for Nameless somewhere. I'll try to get in touch and see if he knows.

I have no idea how well he may have known Elliot, but we'll soon find out.

Better safe than sorry I suppose. Perhaps just hold off that detail until I can get in touch with Nameless. I'll try to do so ASAP so that we can get the full article to print. But we'll see.

Thank you again for your hard work as always,
Geoff.

Nameless Gould answered the door still rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He lifted the chain and clicked open the lock. He sighed and opened the door the slightest amount possible. As he blinked through the opening, a deep voice greeted him.

“Hello Nameless.”

He sighed once more and pulled the door open further. Without greeting the visitor, he turned on his heel and walked back into the apartment. He grabbed a shirt from on top of a pile of folded clothes and slid it on as he addressed the man. “When you called me last night to say that you had something to tell me, you failed to mention you planned to do so at 7:30 in the morning.”

“Well, I was up early and I thought I’d catch you before I had to go to work.” The man offered a slight smile and took a few steps into the apartment and stood awkwardly in the middle of the floor. “Are you working, Nameless?”

“That’s not your business,” Nameless replied coldly.

“Just remember that the door is open at Ambler…”

“I’m fine, Geoff.” Nameless shot the man another cold glance before walking across the wooden floor and collapsing into a chair. There was an awkward silence between them. From back in his bedroom, Nameless heard his alarm clock give its first chime. Of course, the 7:30 alarm had never been a signal to actually get out of bed. He swallowed and glanced back to his guest, Geoff Makoric.

Geoff was still standing in the middle of the room. With every second, he was feeling more and more uncomfortable. He really didn’t want to tell Nameless this news, but he would find out sooner or later. And the fact that he was the only known relative within easy contact, it was important to talk to him about what had occurred.

Nameless stirred, and brushing a hand through his hair, he leaned forwards. “So, what’s so important this early in the morning?”

Geoff paused, clearing his throat. “Do you mind if I take a seat?” Nameless nonchalantly gestured towards the other chair in the room. Geoff shuffled across to it and then sat down. He perched on the very edge of the seat – not out of anticipation, but out of complete nervousness and indecisiveness about how to actually tell him the news.

“Nameless,” he began cautiously, “It isn’t good news…”

Expressionless, Nameless replied, “It never is these days.”

“Your father’s cousin – your first cousin once removed… He’s been murdered…”

Nameless’s eyes widened and he leaned forward in his chair. His mouth had tightened and he stared in disbelief at Geoff.

“Elliot Gould was killed about three days ago. It’s believed that he was murdered by the Helix Killer – I’m sure you’ve heard about that….” Geoff’s voice trailed off into silence. He couldn’t help but feel as though he’d been to upfront about it. Perhaps it had been too quick; too much of a slap in the face. But what could he do now?

Nameless continued staring at Geoff. The longer he gazed in disbelief, the more his eyes unfocused until he was just staring blankly across the room. Another death… Another violent death… Even though he hadn’t known “Uncle Elliot” particularly well, he did have a few fond memories of him. One Christmas, he had given Nameless a cricket bat that was grossly disproportionate for the young boy’s size. It was one of those strange memories that you could never quite figure out why you remembered it, but it was still precious.

And now Unlce Elliot was gone. At the hands of some madman – not too unlike Helena’s demise all those years ago. And just as he was finally getting to a point where he could begin to move on, in waltzed another tragedy. But at least there wasn’t a trace of blood on his own hands…

“Nameless?” Geoff asked quietly. He gripped his hands tightly together and chewed on his lip nervously. “I know it’s not particularly…”

“Just go,” interrupted Nameless. It wasn’t harsh or angry. He wasn’t mad or anything. But Geoff had relayed the information – his purpose was done. He could go.

Geoff held up a hand to protest, but Nameless repeated his comment once more. Slowly, the bearer of bad news stood and made his way to the door. “If you want more information or anything, feel free to give me a call.” Geoff took out a business card and placed it on the table by the door.

A meek thanks came out from Nameless and Geoff left, closing the door behind him carefully to avoid any squeak.

Nameless still gazed blankly across the room, trying to allow it all to sink in. But it was just so sudden, so unexpected… Then, blinking back the forming tears, he stood. He cleared his throat, closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

What could he do? What was done was done. He didn’t want to have to take it; to bear another family death. But what could he do? The show had to go on…

“Punk!” shouted the boy named Lance standing over Gene. His fist connected with Gene’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. Gene 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. Gene had tried to make them stop hurting the dog and received quite a beating in the process.

“Hey, boy.” Gene’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. Gene stood to pet the poor dog, but Chipper snapped at him. Gene recoiled and watched the ungrateful dog hobble out of the alley. Gene sighed and limped out of the alley. Hopefully, his father wouldn’t ask what had happened, but Gene knew he would. He would already be in a bad mood. His father had started chemo.

The next day, Gene 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!” Gene said to Lance, who seemed to be the leader of their group. “Leave the man alone!”

“Well lookie here, boys.” Lance 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.” Gene said to Lance, who was two years is elder. Lance’s flunkies “ooh”ed in delight and began chanting “Fight, Fight, Fight!”

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

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

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

Gene 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?”

“Gene."

“Well that ain’t normal. That ain’t normal, Gene.”

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.” Kevin Pratt was in charge of keeping up with the new specials who surfaced so they could keep tabs on all of them.

Kevin 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 Kevin’s disheveled desk. He tossed a file onto the desk and Kevin 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?” Kevin said not looking up from the file.

“A homeless man.” Kevin gave Victor a skeptical glance, “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?” Kevin asked looking through Gene’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. Kevin opened it.

“David Fisher.” He said reading the name on the file. “Gene’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.” Kevin 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!” Kevin 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 Gene Fisher and his father, correct?” Kevin 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 Kevin 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.” Kevin 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 Gene shouted, “You said you would stop! The doctors said if you don’t stop smoking the cancer will get worse!” Gene 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!” Gene 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…” Gene grimaced at the mention of his mother and David stopped talking. Gene never liked to talk about Ginger. He felt that Ginger abandoned him and his dad.

“I’m sorry, Gene.” 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 Gene was a child and had awoken with a nightmare.

“I’ve already lost mom.” Gene 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 Gene 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 Kevin had been promoted to his partner.

“How is Gene 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 Gene 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.

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

“Gene.” A soft voice whispered. Gene 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 Gene shot her a piercing gaze.

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

“You’re right, Mom!” Gene 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 Gene 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 Gene’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 Gene 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 Gene.

“Gene, 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.

“Gene,” the next message said, “We missed you at Beth’s I—um—I guess you were busy or…” The voice dropped its sentence, “Gene, 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.” Gene erased the message.

Eventually, Gene 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 Kevin’s office. Kevin, 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 Kevin’s desk. Kevin had placed the chair there because Victor had been making many stops into his office recently.

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

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

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

“No. Not even by a long shot.” Victor said with a smug smile that told Kevin 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!” Gene 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!” Gene 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!” Gene 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. Gene was then “escorted” off the premises.

Gene 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. Gene 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, Gene 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. Gene furrowed his brow, because the large German Shephard was growling at the cat. Gene said, "Get out of her, mutt!" he commanded.

Gene 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 Gene whenever he had a nightmare as a child.

“Well I’ll be damned,” Gene said, “That’s just like Dad.” Gene 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. Gene 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, Kevin 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 Kevin gave him a warning glance 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!” Kevin 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.”

“Gene 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 Gene?” she asked. Nameless nodded and pulled out the picture of Gene 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.” Kevin 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, Kevin 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?” Kevin 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…” Kevin began, but he was interrupted.

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

Kevin 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 Kevin 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 Kevin 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?” Kevin asked bewildered.

“I’ll tell you when I get back.” Victor exited Kevin’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.

Kevin 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.

Kevin 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 Gene. 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 Nameless, 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 Gene. 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, “Gene?”

Gene 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,” Gene 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 Gene’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 Gene. 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 Gene’s body tighten as if he was unsure what he should be doing. Nameless looked up into Gene’s eyes and quickly recognized them as his own. “Don’t you know who I am, Gene?” Nameless asked curiously, “I’m your brother, Nameless.”

Gene’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. Gene’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?” Gene 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.”

Gene’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?” Gene 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 Gene’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 Gene was all Nameless had in the world. Gene and a hat full of cash and a saxophone.

“I don’t check my…” Gene’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 Gene 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 Gene Fisher.’ I knew I had a brother then.” Nameless paused and Gene 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.” Gene didn’t speak and Nameless’s eyes filled with tears out of fear that Gene 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?” Gene’s eyes forced themselves open and Nameless could see that he was holding back tears. “What’s wrong, Gene?”

“I saw Mom that day.” Gene 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.” Gene 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. Gene 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 Gene out of his irrational fears. “If you don’t want me, I’ll understand.” Nameless said taking Gene’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 Gene turned to look at him.

Gene 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.”
Gene 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. Nameless. His ability. The Company. Gene. 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 Nameless 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 Gene’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 slowed 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?”

It was night once again; new york had been good to the winter, s much snow, so much cold. the clouds covered the sky once more, no lunar light being emitted through it. having all day of working, James stood outside of his parents house.
There was one thing he needed to do; walk in, and kill hi father. Yes, very cliché; but james knew why. The murder of his mother had never been 'explained' and finally james new why. The media stories said the house burnt down in the room his mother was sleeping in; but she didn't dye of smoke in hailation. I knew it; my power must've decended from one of them. james thought as he started upon the fluight of stairs in the old apartment block.

After walking up several flights of stairs he came to the apartment ' Woodland (108) '. He couldn't hide forever. james thought. He toggled on the door several times, it was obviously locked. James thought of breaking the door down; but that obviously hurt himself. Instead he ignited his ability; even though he had little control since he was determined to kill his father with it it seemed to have listened to his commands. James' hand glue a blue colour as he tapped the door handle several times. The ice from his hand consumed the door handle and seemed to make it weak. Using his other hand; james repeatidly punched the door handle; it broke off, unlocking the door.

Entering, james noticed that everything had relevance to fire, the poster his father had infront of the television, chared remains in a pot. "Father," he spoke out-loud. "father..." he said in an almost evil way. he stormed through the 2 bedroom flat. "Hmmm..." he said as he entered the bedroom...
Instantly - there was bold bright light flying towards him. "Ah!" james yelped as he ducked this very fast. He looked back up to see his father. "yes James, you've got my attention" his father spoke. "Yes; thanks" he said, his arm began to become ice, it wasn't just his hand. Instantly; james ran at his older father. His father attempted to fight him off by launching fire at james, But james used his arm to stop the fire burning him. he was now alsmost inches away from his father. "This is the end" he then spoke. Grasping his father by the neck. "Goodbye, Jeremy." he said, using his father's name to reveal how insignificant he actually was to james. The ice spread from james' hand to his father's neck, consuming it in ice; then ice from his father's nexk spread all around his body, he father froze, but not completely. james withdrew his hand.
"Now you can stay; and dye of hypothermia, just like mother died of 'Smoke inhalation' ". James said to his father. "n-no please" James' father said. "Goodbye dad." james said as he left.

Nikolai walked out of the doctor's office with a glum look on his face and a wrinkled prescription sheet in his hand. Ever since he had come back from his second war, the War on Terror, he had been having bad dreams, if he chose to sleep. He didn't have to sleep, since his ability relieved any feeling of fatigue and was resistant to the elements. But he did have what he called day-mares. He would be minding his own business then, like he was watching a movie screen, these images would just appear in front of him. His perception would change and he would often get strange looks from people. It's not everyday that you see a guy looking at things that aren't there and shouting orders to invisible soldiers. This was all very embarassing to Nikolai, so he decided to get a check-up.

The doctor told him he was probably suffering from a moderate to severe case of post-traumatic stress disorder. This depressed Nikolai, so the doctor gave him some medicine to combat the effects. Problem was, the pills were highly addictive, so the directions given for taking the pills had to be followed by the letter. If not followed, then Nikolai would become an addict and probably end up dead. The withdrawel symptoms were terrible, too. The intensity of the problem he was currently experiencing would most likely increase. That could drive him crazy if the pills didn't kill him first.

He traveled to the nearest pharmacy and got the order filled. The pharmacist gave him a bag with the pills in it. He paid for them and walked out. Opening the bag, he removed the bottle and took off the cap. He read the instructions printed then dry-swallowed one of the capsules. He was tired. It was time for a vacation.

Nikolai ventured to a quant little shop called "Micky's Garage:Tune-ups, Upgrades and More!" He entered by way of the garage itself, which was next to the office quarters. Micky's large frame was emergine from underneath the body of Nikolai's vehicle: a brand-new black Dodge Challenger. Micky had upgraded it with reinforced windows and chassis, making it eligible for driving away relatively fine from nasty wrecks. He stood up and lurched his 6'6"-self over to Nikolai, smiling.

"Well, Nikky, got your baby all fixed up. Ready to go, my man."

Nikolai began to bring up the cost of the upgrade but Micky shook his head.

"No, you get it to me when you can. It's fine that you don't have all of it now. Just...whenever you get it, okay?"

Nikolai thanked him and retrieved his keys. He got in the car and cranked up the engine. Listening to its "voice" as it roared to life, he backed out of the garage and drove away to his apartment, while honking at the waving Micky.

Nikolai arrived at his modest four-floor apartment complex a little later than he would have liked. Traffic was bogged down, due to the homeward-bound rush of the daily commuters and white-collars. Locking his car, he nimbly bounced up the main steps and entered the building. Waving at the evening watchman, he strode to the nearest elevator and entered, pressing his floor's button. Once arriving at his floor, the top, he wandered through the maze of hallways till he came to his door. He unlocked the door and entered.

He dropped his keys on the shelf next to the entrance, kicked off his shoes and sat down in front of the computer. He searched for an available hotel in Florida, preferable near Pensacola or Destin. Finding a nice one in Destin, he booked it and then began to pack.

Nikolai removed a large duffel bag from his closet and began to pack the necessary clothes and whatnots for the trip. He thought about taking his hunting rifle, but decided against it. Just one of those waning thoughts that made no sense. He had those a lot. They seemed to come and go more often since he had gotten back home. Most of the time they were just sudden flare-ups of anger thaat he couldn't put a finger on.

He wrote down the directions to the hotel in his car map and stuffed it in his bag. Lifting the bag, he left his apartment and locked the door. Once that was done, he left the building, waving at the night watchman as he left.

Throwing his bag in the backseat, he sat in the driver's seat, started the engine then drove off to his well-needed vacation site in Destin.

Nikolai arrived in Destin a few hours later. He only made three stops along the way and that was just for gas. He explored for a bit then tracked down his hotel. He parked in the lot outside the hotel and exited his car, grabbing his bag as he got out.

It was early morning at this time. The midnight crew must have recently left, because the man standing behind the counter looked new and fresh. He was smiling. Nikolai greeted him and asked for his room. After going through all the formalities, he grabbed his room key and began to search for it. He found it shortly and entered, locking the door behind him. He threw his bag across the room and leaped on the bed. He stared at the ceiling, relaxing for hours. It was time to cool down and let the lack of responsibility seep in.

Nikolai waited peacefully in his room until the morning sun began to peep through the bedroom shades. He listened to the gradual increase of noise and movement from the early risers. Satisfied with his "sleep", he got up and took a shower. He had been wearing a mildly-worn t-shirt bearing the smiling visage of Bing Crosby with some blue jeans the past two days, so he decided for a change. He slipped on his military fatigues and looked at himself in the bathroom mirror, gingerly brushing his hair. Finished, he left his room and ate some very good bacon and eggs, then left the hotel. He had spotted a park near the hotel and decided to people-watch there, so he walked, ready for whatever the day may bring him.

(Note: This thread is continued in "Welcome home, soldier (Pepper)"). This one is now finished.

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.