Double Shadow

by StarlightSuccubus

Entry for the Awkward Contest. Edward Masen suffered from a terrible childhood that leaves him with three souvenirs. A shy demeanor, super human abilities, and Edward Cullen—his evil alter ego. And what does Isabella Swan have to do with him?

The "AwkWard" Contest
Story Title: Double Shadow
Pen name: StarlightSuccubus
Disclaimer: All copyrighted, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, quotes, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization.
To see other entries in the "AwkWard" contest, please visit the C2:
www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/community/AwkWard_Contest/78356/

Summary: Entry for the Awkward Contest. Edward Masen suffered from a terrible childhood that leaves him with three souvenirs. A shy demeanor, super human abilities, and Edward Cullen—his evil alter ego. And what does Isabella Swan have to do with him?

A/N: Yes, there is a quote from 'The Catcher in the Rye' by J. D. Salinger here. No, I won't abandon ISWI.

Thanks to magan bagan for being an awesome friend, ficwife, and beta. Thanks to kyla713 for her awesomeness in the art of wording. Thanks to charmizane for her kind words of encouragement.

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Double Shadow

By StarlightSuccubus

Scientific Lab detonates in Kelowna

BY MIKE NEWTON, VANCOUVER SUN (March 4, 1996)

(KELOWNA, B.C.)— Late last night, an explosion detonated multi-millionaire Edward Masen's subterraneous laboratory, located inside the premises of his Kelowna mansion. Six casualties were reported upon Investigative Services' arrival.

Although remains could not be located due to the state of incineration of the building, records indicate that the occupants of the laboratory at the time of explosion were Dr. Edward Masen himself, and his wife Elizabeth, among his team of world-class scientists. Dr. Carlisle Cullen, 1986 Chemistry Nobel Prize winner, was one of the victims.

Authorities believe that an illegal military bomb was placed inside the secluded property. An investigation is being held. However, there are no immediate suspects.

At approximately 11:45 p.m., neighbor Francesco Aro reported the tragedy to the police department—upon hearing the commotion. While being questioned by the detectives, he stated, "There was a deafening sound that woke us up. My windows resonated and shattered, my wife was alarmed. We thought there was an earthquake."

Inside information, disclosed by friends of the late Dr. Masen, specified that his team was undergoing a series of top-secret projects for the U.S. government. There were no further discussions on the topic.

Employees of Masen-Cullen Laboratories will be holding a memorial for the late founders this Friday. Close family members and friends will be present to this emblematic event.

As I finished reading this news article, I moved aside the paper that had haunted me all my life. I had the very unnerving habit of untidiness and keeping everything instead of throwing it away, so the fact that I had stumbled upon this little piece that recounted my past came as no surprise.

This article never ceased to revive the most atrocious part of my existence. Even though I wanted to erase those memories from my brain, they stuck to my mind—in both my dreams and my waking hours.

While reading it, I never failed to become enraged as they never mentioned anything about me, and of course, they never found the perpetrators. There was no trace to follow except for the missing bomb. Nobody knew anything about it. The case hadn't been closed, but it wasn't an active investigation either.

But I couldn't complain; not entirely. Those same words were also released the day that my nightmare ended. In fact, they were released because it ended. That explosion stopped it, stopped him and his cruel treatment towards me.

It all started when I was born. The day that Edward Masen Jr. came to this life.

My mother had given me a comfortable childhood; always loving, always caring, until she became ill. Mentally ill. Then, it all went downhill from that day on.

My father, Edward Masen Sr., came along, taking on the full task of raising his only child and assuming the role that my mother had been proud of performing.

The only difference was that he wasn't loving, or caring. My father, who arrogantly walked this earth—his enormous ego weighing him down, but at the same time bringing him high—messed me up. He was a scientist, the best in genetics, so it was only natural that with a dose of superiority mixed with a sky-scraping I.Q., he would want to exceed all expectations.

But unfortunately for me, I was to be part of his creations, his experiment. His bitter heart, ruled by the coldness of science, allowed him to act the way he did. He used his only son to create his masterpiece. He claimed to do this out of love, that he wanted what was best for me, that I was to be part of a new brand of human. I was to be invincible, a superior being.

But that wasn't love.

And it didn't work anyway.

It only served to end my childhood ahead of time. It was the end of my innocence and the beginning of those torturous days where I was subjected to trials and tests, like a lab rat. The pain had been too much but the after-effects had been unbearable, and my brain had shut down.

Or acted in self-preservation. My highly intelligent brain, my defense mechanism. My newly discovered ordeal.

I was your average graduate student, but not entirely, and it was for several reasons.

The first one being that—as I'd decided to follow my father's steps in becoming a man of science—I went to college. Yet, I didn't experience that fulfilling adventure that most males my age did. I was always reserved, always hiding in the library or laboratories, comfortably working on school projects. Despite my secret desire to be socially competent, I was at ease when isolated from loud environments.

And that brought me to the second reason.

I was a scientist because—despite my hatred for the vile creature that had been my father—my love for science was endless. It was my passion and my life. And my life depended on it, as I was constantly seeking a way to rid myself of this second reason, to rid myself of him. To control him.

To control my secret.

This was new to my knowledge and I didn't have specifics, but I was aching to know more about him. The reason I wasn't normal, or average, or social. I lived in constant fear of this out-of-consciousness experience that I barely knew anything about.

He was my biggest fear.

Clearing my head of all thoughts the damned paper had brought about, that I could never seem to get rid of—among other things—I went back to work. I was collecting some data for Dr. Jasper Whitlock and his upcoming project on DNA oligonucleotides.

It was after a few minutes that the neighbor turned on his new surround sound system. I tried to ignore it, mainly because I wasn't looking forward to asking him to turn it down but when it got to be too much, I knew I had no choice.

It was either that, or lose an entire night's worth of collecting this data. I couldn't afford that.

Reluctantly standing up from my seat, I went to the hallway. The door to his apartment was booming; loud guns and explosions could be heard from inside, so I figured he was watching some dumb action movie.

I nervously sighed, closing my eyes and wiping the sweat from my hands. I needed to take my time and imagine the outcome, just to be prepared and cautious about my encounter with the neighbor.

Okay, first I am going to knock on the door… twice. If he doesn't answer, I think I'll wait five seconds until I have to knock another two times. He is obviously going to need a few moments to realize that someone is out here, but when he does, he's going to come and open the door. He will inquire what is it that I need, and then I am kindly going to ask him to turn the noise down, as it is already after-hours.

Maybe a simple phrase like, 'Excuse me sir, but could you turn it down a bit? It is late and people are either sleeping or working on last minute projects.'

Or maybe I should cut it short, he won't care about such details. Yes, a simple excuse about people sleeping sounds more appropriate. After that, he is going to consider, most young people are rude and selfish, but he is an adult, and as such, he will accept. I will thank him, turn around and continue gathering my data.

Okay, there you go…

I sighed again, sweat mingling on my skin, as just the thought of talking to strangers had me nervous. Taking another deep breath, I dared to knock. I did it twice, as in my role-playing. And just as such, there was no answer. I groaned in annoyance; I had learned to read people because I was always observing. It was like a science experiment.

One, two, three, four, five… I pounded again. No answer… five, four, three, two…

At two, the sound paused and after two more seconds, his door opened. My heart was accelerating in my chest as I caught a glimpse of his porky face, before lowering my head.

"What?" he spat.

Suddenly, the scenario didn't make sense because in it, the neighbor wasn't that abrupt. I managed to mumble, "Co-could you… could you pl-please turn the no-noise down?"

"No." The man was dead serious as my eyes widened.

I opened my mouth but no words came out. I closed it, then opened it again as two words came out of it. "Ex-excuse me?"

"I said I won't turn it down, kid," he breathed impatiently, but I was unnerved by his rudeness and frustrated with myself. I wanted to retaliate but I was too much of a coward to say anything. However, I knew that I needed to focus on my work tonight, because one single mistake, as minute as it might be, could cost Dr. Whitlock his entire project.

This unreasonable man needed to understand that; we were talking about breakthroughs in the genetics field. 'Not that he cared about it.'

But this was for a new era in genetics.

I was about to kindly ask again, rehearsing a quick scenario in my head, when the asshole decided to speak once more. "Now, if you would get out my sight before I kick your nerdy ass back into your fucking hole. My girlfriend is waiting inside, ready to be fucked."

"Too bad fucker, because I am gonna feed you your balls for dinner." I stood up straighter, suddenly full of rage, though I had no idea why. I looked at my surroundings from the corner of my eye. I didn't know why the fuck I was here, but I was standing in front of a dumbass that was about to be smashed into oblivion.

A smirk appeared on my face as I witnessed his reaction to my menace. It wasn't an empty threat, and just to prove my point, I swiftly grabbed the door and tore it from its hinges. For me, breaking things this way was as easy as it sounded, but for this motherfucker or anyone in general, it wasn't. With a resounding 'thump', I let it fall to the floor while he, as swiftly as his fat ass allowed him, moved away from it.

I stepped over his door as his eyes widened. He took several steps back, putting some distance between us. I snorted at his ridiculous display of fear and also to the fact that if I chose, there wouldn't be any distance between us. It was there because I allowed it to be there.

To prove my point further, I dashed toward him with unnecessary inhuman speed, stopping in front of his ridiculously fat frame. I grabbed him by the collar of his shirt; his shitty face and smelly breath too close for my liking. In my peripheral vision, I could see a girl hiding behind the couch, the face of Bruce Willis displayed on the screen.

"Listen, my friend. And listen to me very carefully because I hate to repeat myself," I paused for effect. He just anxiously nodded as his whore hid completely behind the tattered couch. "I don't ever want to see your fuck-ugly face on this floor again. If you cross my path, I will keep that promise about dinner."

I paused for effect again, his face paler and his forehead drenched in sweat. I wanted to laugh because even though he was weak and easily defeated, it was amusing to see his true fucking colors. I let go of his miserable frame before grabbing a towel from the kitchen counter and wiping his pestilent scent off my hands.

Everything was quiet. I kind of liked it this way. His sound unnerved me for some reason, but I wasn't entirely sure what it was.

"Now that you no longer have a fucking door, kindly don't turn on that new toy of yours again." I nodded towards the T.V. and he bobbed his head eagerly. My lips curved arrogantly. "And I really mean it, so please stick to the rules or you already know the consequences."

I didn't wait for his response; I just made my way to the exit. Just as I was about to cross the threshold, he dared to speak. "Who… who are you?"

I rolled my eyes with a sigh, now impatient and annoyed. I placed my left hand on the doorframe, gripping it harder to restrain myself as I left a dent. I took a deep breath and reasoned that it was better to answer the dumbass' question, so he would know who his fucking nightmare was.

"My name's Edward Cullen."

With that, I proceeded on to my shitty apartment.

I needed to get out of these ridiculous clothes, grab my car keys, my other stuff hidden in that floorboard, and get away from this shithole, and into my new Yaletown apartment.

I wanted to have fun tonight. Besides, I didn't want to kill the fucker next door. After all, I was not a killer, not yet anyway.

I was just a kidnapper and a thief, and I didn't do shit for free.

*_+

Speeding through the streets of Vancouver, I gripped the wheel of my 612 Scaglietti anxiously. I wanted to have fun and forget about the little incident that happened back at that trashy apartment. As much fun as it had been, I'd been out of the loop.

I fucking hated it when that happened to me. I obviously knew something was wrong, what with having these superhuman abilities. Those I treasured deeply, as they were what enabled me to get good gigs and all this cash, but it was the bizarre situations in which I suddenly found myself in that worried me shitless.

It was as if someone erased parts of my life from my consciousness. I constantly found myself back at that awful apartment, where I didn't dare touch shit because it was revolting. Also, I had to find secret spots to hide my stuff, such as my car keys, phone, and wallet because I didn't know when this would happen all over again and I would wind up in the shithole. For instance, I hated to leave my car at that building's garage, so I kept it concealed with a car cover so nothing would happen to it. That was as much as I could do, as I didn't own a garage spot in my downtown apartment building. Overall, I just had to be prepared in case it happened for a long period of time, as it usually did.

Just as it had this time.

The last I remembered was that I'd drunk myself into oblivion, maybe a couple of weeks ago. I had gone to that shitty place, thinking that I didn't want to puke all over my new apartment. The next thing I knew, I found myself standing in front of that pathetic neighbor.

I was grateful for my enhanced abilities, because I took too many risks. If I didn't have those, who knows what would have happened to me all those nights that were blank stretches in my memory. I didn't know why I had them, but they were a blessing. Although I sometimes wondered if maybe having that inhuman strength and super-speed were the cause of my forgetting everything. But if that was the case, I valued these more than anything I lost as a result.

Other times, I was too curious about my origins, about why I had been the chosen one. But when I had special jobs that needed to be taken care of, I stopped dwelling on everything else and focused on the endgame. My rewards, the money.

As I was passing by Granville Bridge, I felt my phone vibrating against my thigh. Nobody had my number except my contacts and clients. Eager about the prospect of a new job, I reached for it and answered. "Yes?"

"Is this Black Shadow?" A disguised croaky voice with a British accent asked on the other end of the line. Black Shadow was my pseudonym and it'd only been disclosed to my trustful clients. The way he sounded wasn't strange to me at all either; usually my regulars didn't give away personal information and neither did I. It was clean cut, very down to business, no pleasantries. That's how they were kept in the dark and my identity remained hidden.

"That's the nice thing about carrousels…" I said, answering his question.

"…They always play the same songs." The voice said without hesitation. I smiled to myself, knowing that this was a genuine offer.

"Good." I was so very interested in this call, so I slowed down just as I reached Nelson St. "Proceed."

"Mr. Shadow, I'm correct in assuming that you've heard that the Prime Minister is currently in Vancouver, am I not?" I smirked to myself. It cracked me up when someone called me that. As if my first name was Black.

"Yes—yes, I've heard." I had no idea, but he didn't have to know that.

"And I am also assuming that you've heard that the U.S. Ambassador is going to meet with him in this same city, correct?" This guy needed to cut to the chase, I hated being questioned.

"Yes."

"Very good." There was a small pause before he continued, "However, I received intel about their agenda for said meeting."

"Okay…" I needed him to elaborate. This was turning out to be very, umm… different.

"They are negotiating about the U.S. acquiring a weapon. A deadly weapon that the Canadians have in their hands," he finished. A moment of silence followed, allowing me time to digest this information.

"So you want me to get this weapon?" I said, positively sure that this was to be my task. However, I was very much mistaken.

"No, not tonight." I stopped the car in front of the Pacific Centre, because this was turning out to be more unusual than I'd thought. Sure, this was a regular client, but he was being cryptic, more so than their usual requests.

"Then what is it that you need?"

"What I need from you Mr. Shadow, is to apprehend the Ambassador's daughter. Her name is Isabella Swan and she is currently in Vancouver with her father." I rolled my eyes because somehow, throughout all this mystery and crap, I thought that the assignment was going to be more difficult and challenging. Apparently, I was fucking wrong. Kidnapping a defenseless girl was the easiest task in the world. No matter how much security they placed around her.

"Deal, but can you afford this?" I had to ask, even if I knew he could.

He snorted before saying, "So, Mr. Shadow, does this mean you'll have the girl by Sunday?"

"Will you have my money by then?"

He didn't answer, another wave of perturbing silence followed.

"I'll send the instructions of delivery to your Blackberry. Be ready and on time!" And with that, he hung up.

I smiled as I ignited the engine once again, the night was young, I didn't have to deliver until tomorrow and I just wanted to have a good time tonight. I only had two things in mind; drinking like there was no tomorrow and getting a piece of ass.

+_*

It had been two hours that I'd been sitting on this same stool, drinking highball after highball and just thinking that life was fucking great. I didn't know how much time this state of mind was going to last and I wanted—no, needed—to make the most of it. I needed to take the hottest chick in the entire bar home and bone her until the fucking morning. Plus, I needed to make the delivery and get the damned cash.

Shit, I was so utterly wasted and fucking horny.

Just as I was about to stand up to take a leak, the most alluring scent invaded me. I looked around for the source of this delicious smell, when I heard, "I need to see some I.D., please."

"But… Leah, Leah's your name, right?" asked the girl with the most perfect little ass in all of British Columbia. "That guy over there has been giving me champagne all night! Besides, they let me in, didn't they? Why the hell do I need to show you my I.D. again?"

"Because I haven't seen it." The bartender was a stuck up bitch. Averting my gaze away from the girl's ass, I looked up to Leah.

"Is there a problem here?" I asked, my eyes penetrating hers, doing the trick.

"No, n-no!" she shouted over the loud music.

"If there is, let me know please, so I can take it up with Emmett, your manager." She nodded in understanding. I turned around and continued, "So…"

"Jessica," said the girl too quickly. I smiled, knowing that she was lying.

"Right… let me buy you a drink." She accepted and I got her a champagne cocktail. Upon receiving our drinks, I paid for them and we made our way to a vacant table. All the while, my hand was placed on the small of her back, just itching to place it over that delectably cute butt.

As we sat down, I took in her entire appearance. She had long brown hair framing her heart-shaped face. Her eyes were a deep hazel color, framed by big lashes. Her lips were full and perfect. I couldn't wait 'till I had her down on her knees, looking at me with that innocent gaze as she sucked my cock.

Fuck, I was instantly hard.

I looked at her, giving her that crooked grin that girls seemed to love so much. She returned the smile, her eyes darker and her chest blushing through her halter dress. Fuck, she was the hottest fucking girl ever.

"You didn't tell me your name." She was the first to speak.

"I am Edward." I cringed, as I'd intended to give her a fake name just as she had given me one. My lust-induced brain was failing me tonight; and not to mention the six Whiskey sodas that I had already consumed.

"So, Edward, what is it that you do?" she asked, placing her hand on my knee. I looked at it and smiled, pinching her cheek as I scooted closer to her.

"I am a landscape architect," I lied. I always used that as my profession, chicks seemed to love it for some reason.

"Whoa, that must be awesome." She really seemed impressed.

"It is."

"And with hands like yours…" As she said this, her hand moved abruptly to my crotch, caressing me through my jeans as she whispered in my ear, "Let's cut the crap, I hate small talk."

I growled as she continued, both with her little speech and with her rough caress.

"You and I both know what it is that we want from each other. So just take me to your place and let's get it over with."

Upon listening to her fucking orders, something inside me snapped. I should be the one with the upper hand here. I pushed her away from me just so I could think clearly as I spoke, "How old are you?"

"It doesn't matter." I knew it didn't matter; I just wanted to avoid drawing attention to myself by fucking a minor.

I groaned as she tried to resume her task. I stopped her, "You're playing with fire, did you know that?"

"Yes, and I plan on enjoying it thoroughly." She won the fight as her lips touched my neck and her hand returned to my aching erection.

"Beware," I whispered, just as a last warning.

"Just take me to your place right now."

With that, I dragged her toward the exit after gulping the rest of my drink. We made it to my car, because even though my apartment was two blocks away, I wanted to show off for her.

And in those two blocks, she couldn't keep her hands off of me. I wanted to do the same, but the machinery that I was handling was far more expensive than her fucking existence. As we arrived at my building, I grabbed that delicious ass and buried my face between those luscious tits.

I knew I needed to be careful, because one wrong move, one harsh thrust and her fragile and beautiful form would break in my hands. Her youthful body and eager disposition would be tarnished by my strength. So I was tender, as tender as I could be, but to her I was raw and animalistic. The difference in our perceptions of roughness.

She was exquisite, writhing under me, moaning my name in ecstasy as she came on me. We fucked 'till we could no longer fuck anymore. The feeling of being inside her was beyond anything I've ever experienced, she was really something else. So sexy, so eager, so innocent, and so perfect. And everything was for me, because of me. I was a talented motherfucker. I was so relaxed and content about the pleasure we brought to each other.

So I let her fall asleep next to me.

*_+

I was having a pleasant dream.

But I was on the verge of waking up.

I was in my own personal limbo.

I was having one of those dreams that happened after I secretly watched the movies that I downloaded by hacking those porn sites. I didn't want to wake up, not yet.

I could feel light feathery touches over my abdomen, traveling to where I ached the most. Languid movements, strokes that would only tease, but wouldn't help me reach my release. I was lusting for more.

It wasn't an uncommon occurrence for me to wake up with a morning erection, but to have a pleasant dream on top of that… I cherished those deeply, knowing that it would be impossible for me to revive them in real life.

Wanting to relieve pressure on my erection, my hand lazily traveled to it, but I was startled when I felt fingers gently wrapped around me. My eyes instantly opened, finding a naked and beautiful girl leaning over my hard penis.

"Fuck!" I cursed at the image in front of me. It was too much, her naked breasts and soft skin caressing mine. Her touch was so unexpected and unfamiliar that I instantaneously ejaculated in her hand. I cringed and gripped the sheets. I was rude for ejaculating like that. I was also so inexperienced that the barest contact had sent me over the edge.

"I… I am so—so sorry," I stuttered. Her eyes widened as she looked at her hand and at me. I was worried that she was going to snap, that she was going to provoke him and he would possibly hurt her, but I was shocked when she started giggling.

I closed my eyes, angry and frustrated because he had escaped last night. I needed to apologize.

"I am so sorry for the mess…" I couldn't even finish the sentence. I didn't know how to say it, I didn't want to detonate the time bomb. However, I needed to explain myself, I was going to tell her the truth, there was no harm in doing that. "I—I've never done… it."

Her giggles turned into laughter at my confession. "You are so funny, Edward!"

I frowned. I couldn't understand what she was referring to. Unless… my alter had sex with her.

For the love of Darwin! He had sex… sex, sex sex!

He'd had sex with her and now I was here, naked and not knowing what to do. I thought I'd never done it before… Holy Gregor Mendel! Had he used a condom? Was he responsible? Had he contracted an STD? Were disease causative agents swirling in our bloodstream?

I was getting exasperated and the girl in the bed continued laughing. I needed to calm down, to take a shower, to go to the doctor, to get away from this place. He was a threat to my body, he was the worst thing that'd ever happened to me. He needed to understand that these things were not good, I didn't agree with them. I needed to go to my house and never see another living human again.

And I needed to calm myself down. Looking around, I saw a discarded and used condom on the bedside table. I frowned, but relaxed some more, knowing that at least there was evidence of protection. Now, exhaling and inhaling…

Just as I was taking deep breaths, the brunette stopped laughing abruptly. My brain was quiet, she was quiet, everything was quiet except…

A phone somewhere around the room went off.

I jumped from the bed, paranoid and scared. I hated to be in a situation that I couldn't control, in one where I needed to rehearse, to walk on eggshells, so he wouldn't take over.

I needed many things at this moment, but I was interrupted from my line of thought when she dug around the sheets and found her little silver cell phone.

She groaned as she saw the caller I.D. and reluctantly picked up the call.

"Yes?" she answered. I decided that I needed to think over my course of action.

When she hangs up, I am going to thank her for inviting me over to sleep.I thought, meanwhile her conversation interrupted my plan.

"In Vancouver Dad, obviously."

She will say that it is not a problem. She's probably going to say that she had a good time, hopefully.

"I won't tell you where I am."

It'll be awkward, of that I am sure. Just like in the movies, I am going to grab my clothes and before I finish putting them on, I am going to be out of the apartment.

"I am sorry if Felix is getting fired. I was trapped in that hotel room!"

On the other hand, she could ask for my number? Or should I ask for hers? Not that I will call…

"It's not like I am the President's daughter, Dad!"

Urrrggghhh, this situation was uncommon and difficult for me. Why was she arguing with her father like that anyway?

"Goodbye!"

Okay, back to the point, she's going to hang up soon… maybe, if I don't feel a tense atmosphere, I'll ask for her number, just as a courtesy. I am not an asshole that would just leave a girl like that.

"No, goodbye and I will turn off my phone now. I'll be there when I feel like it."

Then after I get it, I'll leave and go to my apartment, eat cereal and take a shower.

She shut her phone, removing the battery. It was odd to see this behavior. Was she going to be pissed off at me if I left her? I shook my head, clearing that possibility from my thoughts.

"So, maybe, maybe… I should just, umm… leave?" I asked her. She averted her gaze away from her phone, looking at me with a confused expression.

"What are you talking about?" she asked.

"Well, obviously you have more… pressing matters at, at the moment." I worded each phrase carefully, but I was nervous. "I—I am unwelcome he-here."

"What do you mean? This is your place, you brought me here." Her confused expression was making me anxious. "I kind of remember that you had the key in your jacket and everything…" She pointed at a discarded black leather jacket lying on the floor.

There was a moment of silence in which, looking at my surroundings of this luxurious apartment, I rehearsed another conversation.

Should I ask her about last night? And her name, her name, too.

Maybe I should, otherwise I am going to be worried all week and I won't have Dr. Whitlock's data ready.

"What's your… name?"

Her face fell at my question. I gripped the sheets, anticipating an emotional breakdown, because I had been stupid. I should have known her name, if we… if we… did it last night, it was a given that I knew it.

"Sorry, sorry, I am, am very bad with na-names!" I panicked as she turned away from me, grabbing a shiny dress from the floor. "I, I even forget my—my mama's name!"

She relaxed at my confession, her shoulders shaking with more giggles. I scratched my head, but relaxed as well, because she wasn't mad. After a second, she composed herself, and said hesitantly, "Bella… that's my real name."

"I am Edward, but you, you al-already knew that," I responded, she giggled and I realized I liked the sound of her contentment. However, I continued with my inquiry, just as planned.

"So, Bella… what exactly ha-happened, you know, last—last night?"

She giggled and blushed, saying, "I really need to give you some alcohol. You're being very shy this morning, tiger!"

I felt flushed, obviously blushing.

'What should I do now?'

"You're adorable and funny when you're not drunk, Edward."

+_*

In spite of my wishes to be left alone for the rest of the day, here I was, driving a very expensive car that was supposedly mine. Sitting next to me was Isabella, the girl whom I'd had intercourse with last night. I was awfully quiet, not knowing what to say, or how to predict the course of spontaneous conversation with a stranger.

Everything about waking up with a one-night stand had been awkward and bizarre, just as in the books or movies. But unlike those, I was to spend the entire day with her.

It all started after her father called and I learned her name.

We remained lying in bed, my body tense with every movement she made. Upon feeling my distress and unease, she told me she was leaving, but somehow the conversation she had with her father told me that she wouldn't be returning home. She had nowhere to go for the time being. Without thinking, without meditating, without rehearsing, I offered for her to stay with me.

A stupid impulse.

I cringed after offering because I knew I would be in the company of Bella and of the constant panic that being in the presence of other human beings entailed. It was something that I'd always avoided at all costs but my heart had melted upon seeing her so alone and vulnerable. I could tell she was young and not very experienced when it came to these encounters. I wasn't experienced with these at all, but I'd learned to read people in spite of not being near them. As an outsider with a wishful dream of one day belonging somewhere—with someone—I'd come to understand certain patterns of behavior, of predictability of their actions.

At my request, she nodded eagerly, her smile lit and she blushed shyly. She looked quite pretty.

So that was the factor that pushed me to invite her, to keep her company until she felt she could return to wherever it was that she called home.

After that, the awkwardness returned.

I felt dirty, all sticky with sweat and… semen, and so I decided to shower.

I was thinking about this apartment, whether he knew about my little fortune that used to belong to my decrepit father, that now was lying in the confines of a bank vault. I was thinking about all the designer clothes, all the credit cards in some expensive wallet. I was thinking about the plentiful breasts that I'd finally seen upon waking up.

I had to take care of what happened next, only to feel guilty once I saw her outside of the bedroom, wrapped up in a towel and ready to hop into the shower after I was done. I kept wondering if I cleaned the shower stall. That made me nervous.

I didn't speak anymore.

Once cleaned and fresh, she decided that we should go outside. I wanted to refuse, wanting to explore the precincts of this new place of mine and find traces of him, but she was so excited about the sun that I conceded.

She wanted to eat at this restaurant made entirely of glass that was on Burrard St. but I wasn't too comfortable, so we bought some sandwiches from the market on the same street. Of course she stepped out of the car to buy them; I hated going to the grocery store. I took out his wallet and was enraged and astounded when I saw several hundreds in it.

I didn't know what to think of him, I was barely getting to know him as it was. I just let it go and tried to relax, to have a good time, if that was possible. After all, I was already immersed in this situation.

So when looking for a place to eat our sandwiches, I knew exactly where I wanted to go. I knew Isabella wasn't from Vancouver, so she was going to enjoy it very much. When we arrived at Science World, she looked at me, her eyes wide with happiness. I parked the car and we got out. There was a magnificent view, and she ran towards the handrails taking in everything at once.

Yachts and buildings, all shiny and powerful under the British Columbia sun. Her dress and hair also shining with freedom. The industrial waters mirroring the rare, but glorious day that was soaking us in.

"Wow, this is amazing!" She sounded genuinely excited. I forced a smile, but didn't say a word. Hers faded as she looked at me, "What's wrong? You've been so quiet today."

"It… it's nothing." I dared to speak.

"You are not the same person that I met yesterday… that is, if I remember correctly, which I don't," she sniggered and blushed, covering her face with shame. This time I truly smiled, the sound of her easy-going nature soothing me.

She turned around once again, looking at the BC Place and Downtown buildings.

Maybe I should ask her if she would like to enter.

She will for sure, because who wants to spend all day long with me?

When she accepts, I am going to tuck the sandwiches in this jacket and we'll go inside, I'll explain everything there is inside, as it is my forte.'

Making up my mind, I spoke. "Would you, you know… like to go in-inside?

"What?" she was startled by my question after being all engrossed in her thoughts.

I sighed, not wanting to repeat myself again in fear of messing it up. "Would you… li-like to go in-inside?"

She smiled mischievously at me. I was scared. "You know what? I've noticed that you are stuttering a lot. I won't talk to you or answer any of your questions unless you stutter."

"What?" Her comment surprised me. I wasn't expecting it at all.

How should I answer such a request?

I should tell her that I am no good with people; she'll have to excuse me.'

Here goes nothing. "I a—"

"Stutter!" she interrupted.

I took a deep breath before speaking, "I can't handle being around people."

"YAY!" She squealed. "You didn't!"

"I—I guess so," I stuttered and sighed. She laughed and patted my shoulder.

"Don't worry, it's a long process. I used to be so awkward in elementary school that my teacher wouldn't let me speak unless I tripped all over myself. Reverse psychology really works."

I lowered my head, I was going to ask again if she wanted to enter, but I needed to stutter, it seemed. "Do you… wanna go inside?"

I could hear her smile when she said, "No, I'd rather stay here outside, having lunch with you and enjoying the sun."

I looked at her beaming at me as she lowered herself and patted the spot next to her. We sat on the floor as I unwrapped the food. We ate in silence, just an occasional moaning from her, as she ate her tuna sandwich.

As we finished, she took the wrappers from my hands and placed them inside the bag, going to the nearest trashcan to dispose of them. I remained seated, looking at her and thinking about how I got to spend the night with this beautiful girl. This seemed impossible to me.

"So what are you thinking?" she asked. I worded everything carefully, but was not as worried as I'd been that morning. I now knew that Bella was a generous soul, hard to upset.

"I… I was thinking…" I had the need to be honest with her. "I was thinking about this moment. Here… being with a, a girl like—you."

"What about me?" The smile returned to her face. "And please, try to stutter, otherwise I won't respond."

I sighed and tried to think about my answer, stuttering, and not triggering him at once. If she only knew…

"You… you seem so easy going. So, so full of life, of a disposition to meet new people. I… I ha-have never thought that possible. I have many issues, many… an-and some of them are my secret, my burden. I cannot be close to people, as much as I yearn that, that closeness. But despite that, you've, you've managed to be with me," I said, all the while looking into her deep brown eyes, as kids' laughter and the sounds from the SkyTrain invaded us.

"I need to confess something, too." She looked guilty now, chewing her bottom lip, and looking the other way. I became uneasy. "Yesterday, I was so drunk, I was so reckless. I was not inhibited as usual, but bold and daring. I was plain stupid. The thing is… and you might not like to hear this. My boyfriend, well, ex now as he broke up with me… over the phone and I was so hurt, I still am, and my father ordered me to stay in that hotel room. I couldn't take it anymore, I had to leave. I escaped, got super drunk and that's when I found you."

How should I have felt upon discovering that I was the rebound. Truth to be told, I felt a little hurt. My first hint of knowing I was no longer a virgin was of being this girl's rebound.

Now was my turn to look the other way. I knew I was being stupid, we didn't know each other, we were strangers, but to me, this encounter was not very common. It was not on my calendar to have met a girl on a Sunday morning and to take her on a picnic.

I felt used… but had he used her, too? Did he truly like her? Or was she as disposable as I had been to her?

I felt her cold fingers on my chin, pulling my face so I would look at her. Our gazes locked; her eyes full of regret and pain. "I have not finished, Edward."

I nodded, letting her know that she could continue. I didn't know if I could handle it and I didn't know why I was feeling this way. It wasn't even me who made love to her.

"I was glad I did… I was glad that it was you that I found. I remember thinking in all my drunken glory that you were so sexy and good-looking. Last night, the parts that I recall, were… wow, beyond words." At this confession, a beautiful shade of pink tinted her skin. I felt the sudden urge to know what she was talking about, but the bitterness swallowed my thoughts; that if we would try that now, I would be a failure. However, she continued, "But what I found this morning, and here I have to admit, too. I was a bit drunk when I woke up. But the person that woke up next to me was so adorable, caring, and sweet. I truly regretted sleeping with a stranger when you went to shower and left me to my thoughts, but when I saw you emerging from the bathroom, all shy and clean, I remembered how kind you were to let me stay with you."

At this, I saw tears rolling down her cheek. She was a very lonely and hurt girl, of that I noticed. Not knowing what to do, but remembering what my mother did to soothe me when I was feeling down, I hugged her to me. She wrapped her arms around me, and as uncomfortable as I felt, I knew she needed this; she needed me.

"Thank you… I don't usually sleep with strangers, nor do I hang out with them without knowing their last names, but fuck it, I was so angry with him… with Jake, and my father. I feel so trapped in this life. Not knowing what to do or what to say. Not knowing if I am good enough or if I have a say at all."

I hugged her tighter, knowing that this comfort would be treasured by her.

"I understand perfectly," I said without stammering. "More than you know."

And I did.

*_+

It was late when I took her home in the Ferrari. She told me to take her to the Fairmont that was on Burrard. When we arrived, a security guard was waiting for her. She was reluctant to get out, to leave my presence. I was nervously fidgeting in my seat, not knowing what to say when she kissed me good bye, a quick peck on the lips.

My first kiss.

I gave her my e-mail. She promised to write as soon as she landed in Ottawa.

Leaving the car in a nearby garage, I returned to the Yaletown apartment. Now I knew what I needed to do. I was tired of all these conjectures and suppositions when it came to him. I wanted to know everything, from how he got his money, to the reasons for hooking up with Bella.

He needed to understand that, even though we were different people, we shared the same body. We shared it and we needed to take care of it. We were one, we needed to work together to improve. I knew he had saved me when I needed him most. He was my defense mechanism, but now he was driving me to the brink of insanity.

So getting a piece of paper from his drawer, I started writing a letter. It was for Edward Cullen, as it said in the Centurion Card that I found in his wallet.

Dear Edward Cullen,

I am Edward Masen. I don't know if you are familiar with my existence. If you are, then I am glad to be able to say hello. If you are not, then you possibly don't know that we have something called dissociative identity disorder, most commonly known as multiple personality disorder.

I can tell you more about this, more about our origins, and my theory on why we suffer from this disorder. I can tell you many things, so if you are interested, please write a note to me and leave it on this table. I will find it.

Edward Masen

It was simple, but I needed to keep the mystery so he was curious and interested in contacting me. I didn't know anything about his character except that he liked expensive things and that he liked to sleep around.

I yawned and rolled my eyes in exhaustion, knowing that I needed to return home and continue collecting data. I looked outside the window and noticed that in spite of it being a sunny day, the wind was starting to blow. I grabbed the jacket that was discarded on the floor and put it on.

I made my way to the Yaletown-Roundhouse station when I felt a cell phone vibrating somewhere within the jacket. I looked inside the pockets, and indeed there was a Blackberry going off. The number was unknown, and so eager to discover more about Edward Cullen, I pressed the green button.

"Hello?" I said.

"Mr. Shadow, I believe we have sent the instructions. We want the delivery at 10 o' clock at the spot we indicated in our e-mail." The voice was distorted. I looked at the screen to check if the number was now displayed, but it wasn't.

"Who, who's this?" I said automatically. I was nervous, my heart was pumping rapidly.

"Is this a joke Mr. Shadow?" the distorted voice said. I noticed that it had a British accent.

"No, I—I am not joking. Who is this?" I knew I was being brave just because I was talking over the phone. There was no person in front of me.

"Listen, piece of shit… Put Mr. Shadow on the line or I will cut your vocal cords and feed them to my piranhas."

"Yes, who is this?" I asked, all of a sudden confused, standing at the entrance of the station with my phone in hand.

"Ah, Mr. Shadow, you scared us for a second there…" said one of my clients. I instantly knew I had a blackout again. I sighed in relief because I hadn't screwed up.

"Sorry, no need for that."

"Yes, we don't want any more scares, do we?"

"No."

"Okay, so we've sent the information. I am calling just to make sure we're on schedule. We'll wait for the delivery at 10 'o clock. Waterfront," said the voice before hanging up.

Checking my e-mail, I saw that the information had been sent. The subject was at the Fairmont in Burrard. I made a quick stop to my apartment, grabbed everything I needed and headed to my destination. It was going to be a fun night.

+_*

I was in front of the Gallery suite at the hotel.

It had been easy to get rid of the guards, especially the last one, who was looking at porn magazines while on duty. It was such a shame.

I was wearing a black ski mask and my leather jacket, so the security cameras wouldn't recognize me. Not that I cared, really, as they couldn't catch me if they tried, but I didn't need to rouse suspicion anyhow. The media didn't know about me, of course, I was unstoppable. Those grand robberies and kidnapping that I'd committed were traceless.

I worked like a shadow, leaving no evidence, so quiet and incorporeal.

And I planned on keeping it that way.

Inserting the keycard that I'd stolen from the perverted guard, I opened the door. Everything was quiet and still, as if nobody were occupying the suite. I looked around quickly, disregarding every detail, as my priority was looking for the door that would lead me to the bedroom. I saw it on my left. I opened the door and it was dark but not quiet.

I could make out the silhouette of a young woman lying in bed. She was sobbing into her pillow, not noticing another presence in the room yet. As I came to her side, I swiftly grabbed her by the waist and placed my hand over her mouth so she wouldn't scream.

However, I did something I knew I shouldn't have done.

I looked at her face.

And even in the dark, I could recognize those eyes. The same eyes that had rolled back in ecstasy as I'd made her come.

Those fucking brown eyes that were staring at me with hope and happiness. I froze, my hands falling to my sides. This was not Isabella Swan, this girl was…

"Jessica?"

"What the—" she said, looking at my eyes intently. "Edward?"

"Yes, it's me baby." I said, trying to sound friendly.

"Oh my God… I am a mess. Are we goi—"

"Listen baby, where is Isabella?" I interrupted. I was impatient now because if the girl was not in this room, I was going to lose the money and the client.

"Ha, ha, very funny." Her tone was sarcastic, almost as if she was hurt, but I didn't care. I needed an answer.

"No, seriously, please tell me!" Taking off my mask and as gentle as I could, I grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking her, demanding an answer.

"Edward, you know that I am Isabella, now cut the crap and stop doing that. You're hurting me." I sighed in relief, trying to believe her, needing to believe that she was indeed Isabella. I had to, I didn't have much time.

I stepped away from her. The last thing I wanted was to damage her. Well, anymore than I had damaged her last night.

"What are you doing here anyway?" she asked. A wonderful plan formed in my head. Leaning over her, I crashed my lips against her. She stayed still for a second or two, before wrapping her arms around my neck. I felt her tongue prodding my lips, but before we could deepen the kiss, I pulled back from her.

I wished I could have a repeat performance of yesterday's activities, but we didn't have time. It was already after nine.

"There's something I have to tell you… I can run very, very fast, so if you hop up on my back, I'll show you," I said, knowing that she wouldn't believe me. She just laughed, but I bended my knees indicating that I was being serious. She rolled her eyes, seemingly thinking that I was cute or some shit and climbed on my back. I covered my face once again, and she laughed as if she thought I was doing it for her amusement.

As soon as we were set, I ran as fast as the light, using the emergency exit and within seconds we were at the Waterfront.

The view was amazing, the black waters shinning under the full moon, a majestic cruise ship ready to set sail, probably to Alaska.

"Whoa, you… you—and this is quite the view," the girl whispered in my ear. I let her down as she stumbled and trembled, but I steadied her.

"Right on time, Mr. Shadow."

It was the same British accent I'd heard through the phone. Only this time it wasn't distorted, and when I turned around, I saw a tall blond man in his fifties. His grey suit and white shirt impeccable. He was carrying a briefcase, which was my focal point.

"Yes, I am always on time, Mr…" I inquired.

"You don't have to worry about that, son. Not yet," he said, looking over my shoulder at Isabella. "I presume this is the girl?"

"Yes, Sir," I said, stepping aside.

"Edward, what is this?" she asked and I cursed her for using my first name.

I was about to respond when my client answered, "Your friend Edward here has got himself half a million dollars."

"Half a million?" I asked. "That is not my—"

"Ah, ah, ah… wait!" said the client. "You'll get half a million now and the other half, you'll get when I get the girl on that boat."

"But that's not how I work!" I was getting irritated.

"Edward, what is this?" I ignored her. She was stepping away from us, but I couldn't care less, she now knew that I could catch her in a second.

"Mr. Shadow, this is non-negotiable. You are in advantage here, obviously. So I would very much like to even this game. The girl on the boat and the other half on land. Are we clear?"

"Yes," I said through gritted teeth, knowing that he was fucking right, but not liking this a bit.

"Also, my men are looking at us right now, on top of the buildings and such, so if you try to escape with the girl, they won't hesitate, do we understand each other?"

I nodded, knowing that I was not a cheater, and turned to my side, looking at a frightened Isabella. She was trembling, confused, the wind blowing her hair, her skin as smooth and white as tonight's full moon. Such a waste, but at least I got to fuck her. She was beautiful, the fucking hottest piece of ass I'd ever had.

I grabbed her by the arm, trying to be gentle because she had been so good to me. Her eyes displayed hurt, betrayal, vulnerability, and so much more, but I averted my gaze to the face of the man who'd hired me.

"Here," I said as he grabbed her. She struggled under his grip, but he took out a gun from his coat and discreetly placed it against her waist.

"Very well, Isabella," he whispered as she stopped her frantic movements. Tears were rolling down her face as she hadn't stopped looking at me.

"Why Edward?"

I shrugged.

"After everything that…today… why?" her voice broke, tear after tear invading her flawless porcelain face. For a moment, I thought about running away with this angel, this broken and hurt angel, but I knew I was just caught up in the moment. I could only hope that no harm would come to her.

"Very well then, here." He gave me the briefcase. As I took it, I looked at his face. He had a mischievous and knowing smile. A smile that I didn't like a bit, but I didn't say anything more to him.

He grabbed the girl by her shoulders and whispered some indications. They turned around. I watched them retreat as I uttered, "Bye, kiddo."

Sighing and waiting for my second briefcase, I got a weird vibe in the atmosphere, something was off. Just as I was thinking about following my client down to the dock, a second man came from the shadows carrying the briefcase.

He didn't say a word, he just delivered, but as I took it from his hand, he dug into his coat, taking out a gun at an impressive speed. I turned around and started running, hoping that his velocity was a product of my imagination, but I was wrong.

BANG!

A bullet penetrated me.

BANG!

Then a second one.

BANG!

And a third one.

The excruciating pain invaded my torso, my head, my legs, but I didn't stop running, my life was at stake. I ran, and ran, and ran dodging bullets and escaping the traitor.

BANG!

He was still after me. Street after street.

I needed to confront him, otherwise this would end up in me losing my money and my life. Placing the briefcases on the floor and clutching at my wounds, I walked towards him, still dodging his bullets. He had my speed, but did he have my strength, too?

As I halted in front him, he looked frightened, his eyes wide with fear. I grabbed him by the neck, strangling the life out of the motherfucker.

"What's your name?" I asked, my voice constrained with the pain I was feeling.

"Ja-James."

I stepped over his now useless gun.

"Okay James, tell your boss that this is not over."

His eyes were wider with pressure, he was trying to frantically nod, indicating that he would comply if I let him go. I threw him away, shouting, "RUN FUCKER, TELL HIM NOW!"

And he did, he ran so fast that no human eyes could see him.

Just me.

With that, I clutched my briefcases, and sat down on the street. I breathed; I was feeling somehow better, colder, but better.

Then, I saw black.

*_+

"Hey, you!"

My head was pounding.

"Pretty boy!"

My bed was cold and hard. My pillows were, too.

"Got any food in there?"

My head was pounding so hard.

"Do you think he's new in the neighborhood?"

"I hope not because I won't let him have my things."

"I want to know what he's got in those two cases."

I opened my eyes, carefully. I could see two silhouettes. I could smell rotten food and urine and I could feel the sun and wind twirling in the air.

I was lying on the street.

Why?

I abruptly stood up, my head pounding harder than ever. Two homeless people were watching me intently. Upon seeing that I was awake, they instantly hurried away.

I sighed, homeless people made me more nervous than anyone else.

Now that I was alone in my corner of the street, I looked at my surroundings. I was clutching a black briefcase, the other I had been laying on. I opened one and gasped.

Money.

It was then that I looked at my clothes.

I had two holes in my shirt. I untucked it, trying to look at my skin, to see if I was alright, when I heard a clinking sound. A tiny metal against the concrete. A bullet.

I had received probably three shots. Two, by the looks of my shirt, had penetrated my skin, one had not. Looking at my abdomen and chest, I had nothing, no scar, no open wound, or infected injury.

I was alive for Isaac Newton's sake!

After three bullets…

I stood up and started walking.

I was rounding the corner before I remembered about the two briefcases.

I returned for them.

I needed to get to my apartment, to see what was wrong with me. I needed to test myself. Maybe what my father did had worked after all. I needed…

I needed to see what day it was today.

I wanted to know how much time had passed.

Before entering the Chinese convenience store around the corner, I stopped to think about my plan.

I am going to ask the date, simple.

He will tell me. I also want to ask what day of the week it is.

He will tell me, I am going to buy something so he won't be grumpy like most Chinese are when you don't buy anything from them, then I am going to leave.

"Excuse me," I whispered as I entered, he barely acknowledged me. I tried to stutter like Bella had taught me. "What… what da-day is to-today?"

It didn't work.

"Today is the twentieth."

"Of July?" He nodded, but I could tell he was annoyed.

"But to-today is…"

"Tuesday."

"Okay, then…" I said, grabbing today's newspaper so he could charge me.

Once outside the store, I walked to the bus stop waiting for the 9 to come. While waiting, I sat on the cases and skimmed through the Vancouver Sun.

My heart stopped.

The heading of the front page said:

'Charles Swan's daughter kidnapped in Vancouver'

Below the heading was a picture of Bella. She was smiling so carefree and happy.

I scanned over the article, not really reading, as my mind was somewhere else. I could only comprehend words such as 'Fairmont Hotel' and 'Sunday night' and…

'The prime suspect is a twenty-something man that goes by the alias of Black Shadow.'

And then everything made sense.

The money…

The apartment…

The car…

The abilities…

My last memory, that phone call.

Mr. Shadow.

I was this Black Shadow character.

I kidnapped Bella.

Looking further at the newspaper, I also caught the phrase…

'One of the FBI's most wanted criminals.'

What was happening? Who was Edward Cullen? And who had divulged this information?

I needed to hide…I needed to understand Cullen, but I also needed to rescue her. That motherfucker needed to rescue her. I needed to get her. I needed those abilities…

She had trusted in me.

I couldn't let her down.

THE END