"Watch your surroundings. Always be aware of coming danger."
The words were tense, but the voice behind them was soft and calm. Vito Falconetto sat in the passenger seat of a well-used, four-seat brown sedan. His relaxed demeanor contrasted harshly with the stiff and jerky movements of his student. Christy, Vito's daughter, had just begun practicing for her driver's test, and she was as nervous as she was excited. While her fledgling efforts were privately amusing to her father, Vito knew that with time, she would gain confidence.
Christy yelped as the car went over a speed bump. Vito smiled softly.
"It's okay. Just tap the-" he started. Christy stomped on the pedal and the car squealed to a stop twenty feet from the sign.
"Sorry," she said with embarrassment. Vito glanced behind to make sure there was no one approaching, and then sideways along the intersection to check that the path was clear.
"I can go, right?" Christy asked. Vito nodded his assent and the car lurched forward, pulling him back into his seat. The ride grew smoother as Christy drove down a straight, well-paved road. She stared straight ahead with palpable focus.
"That's good, but remember to look in all directions. Danger can come from anywhere," Vito said. Even as he spoke, another vehicle crested the hill ahead of them. Vito scanned its exterior and narrowed his eyes. Christy didn't notice, but his gaze was probing and far away all at once. The model of the car, the dirtied hood, even the dark green paint. There was no real danger, only a familiar memory. Another car, so long ago, one he'd been searching for ever since that day...
Eighteen years earlier...
The patrol car screamed down the road, reaching speeds Vito hoped Christy had never dreamed of. No matter how fast they went, they couldn't go fast enough. Not when Carver Kilkenny was their objective.
Before, Carver's kind had kept their political discontent and their violent protests to their native country. Now, they spread across the world, bringing their bloodshed to people who had nothing to do with their cause and everything to do with the suffering it brought. There were snipers on towers, bombs in subways. This time, they suspected both, and much more. Carver himself had called in the threat. Vito had been there when his harsh, accented voice was broadcast across the station on speaker.
"There can never be peace until the whole world sees our war. While you walk on streets of gold, we wade through streets of blood. No longer can you turn a blind eye to the bloodshed that palgues us. We will force you to see every mutilation, every shattered life. Your mothers will know the pain of ours as we cradle lost children. There is no other way out. When you tire of war, there will be peace."
Vito had dealt with madmen before. He'd fought men shot up with so many drugs they thought they were animals and fought like them. This was so much worse. There was intelligence in Carver, and intelligence devoted to mayhem. There was no reasoning with someone so convinced of his cause. There could only be war.
Carver was waiting for them with Vito arrived with the other cars. Even in the darkness, the city lights illuminated him as he perched atop an apartment building. When Vito examined him through binoculars, he saw his fist clenched around a tiny black rectangle.
"Snipers are in position, but it's a dead man's switch," Vito's superior, Captain Ramsey said, confirming Vito's suspicions. "We're trying to talk him down."
"What does he want?" Vito asked.
"He says he wants the people to take notice of his fight and join him. We can't get any specifics. Frankly, he just wants to see something burn," Ramsey said.
"Then let's give it to him," Vito said. "Where are the entrances into the building? Is he the only one?"
"There's a back entrance and a coal chute. We know he has more men in there, but not how many. It's possible they don't know about the chute," Ramsey said, and then he paused. "Don't get any wild ideas, Vito. This is a delicate situation, not a shootout."
It was too late for that. Vito was already heading toward the building, determined to solve this problem the only way he knew how. He stopped only a few feet into his advance when Carver stood suddenly. Ramsey held up an arm to gather everyone's attention.
"Are you ready to talk, Kilkenny? We're here to help you. Tell us what you want," Ramsey said into a loudspeaker. Kilkenny had no such amplification, but his purposeful voice was loud enough to resound in the icy night.
"You're ready to talk? Only now, when it's your people who are dying. What is it your law says? All men are created equal? Now let them die equal," Kilkenny said. Vito knew what he was going to do the instant before it happened, but he was too far away to do anything but watch as Kilkenny opened his hand and threw the detonator into the air. In the second before the explosives went off, officers scattered and dove for cover. Vito stayed where he was. He'd never thought Kilkenny was enough of a fanatic to kill himself for a point. It didn't make sense for the leader of a movement to be the sacrifice.
The explosion proved him right. The bricks under Kilkenny's feet remained untouched. It was the building next to him that blew, showering glass and debris onto the policemen that ran toward it in their retreat. Screams and cries filled the air as Kilkenny watched stoically from his perch.
The only thing that blotted out Vito's worry for his comrades was his fury. It didn't matter how many men Kilkenny had now. He turned his back on his quarry and ran to help his friends. He dodged the patches of fire and the falling bricks, scooping up the nearest man and carrying him to safety. He knew that the next chance he had to look up at Kilkenny, he'd already be gone.