It is never rare to see a chess battle between rivals, just as it is never rare to see a knight or any other piece overtake a pawn. But, in the grand scheme of things, that pawn does serve a purpose as an opening for the stronger battle members for their oncoming war. Or even to serve as a distraction. Though seemingly small and insignificant, the pawn plays an important part as the spark igniting a flame.
In a school corridor in the outskirts of New York, lights flicker. They hold a ghastly luminescence over white washed walls and checkered tiles. So many shadows lurk in these halls as the lighting is intermittently dying, only to be revived again in a low health. In such low sight, one could notice the tricks played on the eyes; how black morphing spaces fill every shattered breath of light. Yet on closer inspection, it can be noted that two shadows are not just shadows, but outlines contrasted only in the slightest against their walls...
It is midnight here at the school, as shown by the lonesome window at the end of hall. A portion of the moon soars to its highest peak, reflecting the intensity of itself..but regardless the two shapes don't seem to notice. Together, they breath in heavy shallow breathes, pressed flush against the cement white wash.
The first of the figures is the one closest to the wall; most notably the shorter of the two. On closer inspection it is a young boy possibly at the age of sixteen or seventeen by the looks of it, with deep raven hair and eyes as varied as the ocean. His forehead meets just below the other figures nose.
The boy wears a stance that is tense, weary, yet radiates a sense of overbearing confusion. Sweat mats locks of hair to his head and the cotton fabric to his skin. What is uncovered of his skin is oiled in a sheen hit by weak light rays, and appears glistening in ivory. But what we do not mention are the areas where ivory meets ebony.
Ever so strained the boy's head lifts and his eyes meet those of the other man.
"Let go," he spits in a harsh but unsteady voice. It doesn't echo, almost a whisper of words. He sounds weak to his own ears. His fists tighten at his sides. His ocean eyes never leaving those of the other.
The man snickers. The blue eyes of storm clouds do not change as his features distort. A mere leer of a smile yanks the taunt fabric of his own flesh. It stretches his jagged scar which juts down his eye to his jaw. A truly awesome and terrifying sight until he leans in to the boy's ear.
"Never again will I let you go." The words are chilling to the boy, whose resolve hangs barely in the balance. The man lets his fingers curl tighter around the raven's neck, his other hand busy tracing a mirror cut on the boy's cheek with a finely sharpened dagger. "Now that I've finally found you again, you cannot leave."
Percy can only glare at the man's words, a man whose very existence sends pangs to his heart strings for a reason he can't comprehend. Yet something nags at his memory, something he cant grasp about this person.
His windpipe is dangerously close to the rough thumb of his captor. Not that everything else wasn't already a mess. Blood dots trail down his neck and on other select areas of his body. A pin-pricking sensation covers most of his abdomen where bruises of black and blue are forming. His school issued uniform jacket is shredded and where there where pockets, there are now gaping holes. Areas of fabric are blotted with the scarlet beads of blood flowing from his arms, legs, face, torso, back...
"N-no," breathes Percy and the dagger stops.
"Percy…" The word was purred and a sparks of rage ignite from the boy.
"H-How do y-you know me?" A renewed glare meets the blue eyes of the man, one with strained strength and definite confusion.
A sharp inhale slices the air. The man clenches his jaw, gritting his teeth. His eyes narrow at the form beneath him.
"Don't mess with me Percy!". His clenched fist moves dangerously close to the boys face.
A mixed expression of horror crosses Percy's features, as the mans's fist collides with his ribs. The force is enough to drive the air from his lungs but not nearly enough to break bone. A fit of coughing erupts from him and the man leans in close.
"Who do you think I am? Take a guess?". The words are taunting and meant as a challenge, as if the anger had momentarily vanished for the sake of finding the truth. Percy's eyes watered heavily from the punch, his head tilted to the side...as if to see the man in a different light.
He was familiar...as though they had met in a dream of fog and distortion. The person who had haunted his dreams with a featureless face. A person whose name never escaped his lungs.
"L-Luke...". Percy stares at the person,as though he can't believe a word that came from his mouth. "Are you Luke?"
"I am.". In a moment of clarity, said man inclines his head and extends an expression of calculated anger. "Why don't you remember me?".
Percy ducks his head to avoid the piercing eyes of Luke, staring intently at the contrasting tiles instead. His mind was swimming, the words had formed on his tongue before he even realized what it was that he was doing. His pride was damaged, his will tonight waned and now another mystery had entered his life. Go figure.
Slowly his head lifted to glance at the figure before him, lean muscles underneath tanned skin, blond hair that briefly reminded him of the sand meeting the sea, and a tense posture that for some odd reason, didn't strike him as normal.
"I don't know why I can't remember, but I intend to find out!". He grits out words forcefully past his teeth, every syllable is stressed as Percy's ocean eyes meet those of Luke's blues.
A hand snaps forward to tightly grip that of Percy's throat almost instantaneously, bringing it back to Luke as a hook might do to a caught fish. His body was then thrust against the wall with a resounding thud as Percy's elbows and upper back met painted concrete.
Luke gives a chuckle and watches in amusement as Percy fights past his pain, bringing his fingers to those of Luke's. The tension is overbearing as it hangs in the air. Both gaze at each other with mirroring expressions of malice.
But then Luke releases his grip . . . and Percy slumps to the tiles below. With both legs bent and his back against the wall, Percy's eyes widen completely. Was he really this weak?
A moment of silence passes before Luke crouches to eye level with the raven. He gently cups the boy's face not paying any notice to the wince Percy gives as a thumb is run over his gash that he had momentarily forgotten.
"Yes," he states. "And I will return for you. Though I'd be careful from now on if I were you, I've got my ways of keeping tabs." Percy is silent, ultimately wishing he could melt away.
The lights flicker. They stay in that school corridor. Figures in the shadows, figures leaning close against the wall yet near to the ground.
