You know, I own Nathan. He's MINE! No touchy. If you want to use him, ASK.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter 2: discovery
Nathan woke up with a head-splitting headache. He opened his eyes, even if it caused him great pain, and looked over at the clock on his night table. It blinked ten thirty a.m. His eyes lit up in horror as he realized that he should have been at school two hours ago.
"How could he have slept twenty hours non-stop?" was the first question that raced to his mind.
He got to his feet, and walked at a snail's pace to his bathroom. He turned on the shower's tap of cold water and slipped under the jet of liquid after having stripped off his clothes in a slapdash fashion. He let the water vivify his senses and finish waking him up, then opened his eyes again. Somehow, he felt a funny sensation in his mind. It was like if he knew things, that he didn't remember studying. Quite an unusual feeling indeed. After drying himself and putting on dry clothes, he walked downstairs to find a note on the fridge written with a purple marker. It was written: I couldn't wake you up in the morning and you looked so tiered that I'll let you stay home today. There's yesterday's supper in the oven, you just need to heat it up if you want to eat it. It was signed mom in a particularly loopy writing he knew belonged to his mother.
Shayleen Cage was a manager at the bank of his town. She worked nine hours per day and made a fair amount of money. Philip Cage, his father, was working with the American government, and was currently in Washington, arguing against mutant regulations. He came back home about a month on two, but always kept in touch.
Since they weren't at all in a difficult money position, Nathan had never mentioned that he had more than three millions in a Swiss account. What was the point?
He opened the fridge and took out the milk carton and the strawberry jam. He placed them on the counter and opened the food cupboard to pull out a loaf of bread. After spreading his jam on one of the broad pieces, he took a bite.
He realized that the bread was somehow much easier to masticate than it was regularly. He finished his piece of bread and passed his index in his teeth to get rid of the strawberry seeds. He pulled it out quickly when he felt a piercing pain on it. He looked at it with fascination, seeing that it was completely gashed, crimson blood gliding in the palm of his hand. He passed his tongue in his mouth but felt nothing. He ran to the small bathroom next to the T.V. room and looked at himself in the glass cabinet. Nothing was wrong with his face . . . before he showed his teeth to the glass. He gasped in surprise, seeing two fangs on either side of his mouth. They weren't visible when he smiled, and only a little noticeable when he talked, but when he opened his mouth completely, they were totally in evidence. Questions rushed to his head. What had happened to him?
~~~~~~
"Nate? Are you awake?" a feminine voice asked form the bottom of the stairs.
No response was heard.
"Honey?" the same voice said, walking up the stairs.
A woman with a mix of blond and brown hair appeared, wearing a red skirt and top that matched.
She opened her son's bedroom door and peeked inside. Her jaw dropped as she saw the room completely upside down: the bed had been moved in an oblique position to look under it, and one of the pillows was ripped, feathers on a big part of the covers. They had been vaguely picked from the floor, where there were books, papers and storing boxes that were niftily stored in his closet a few hours ago. Clothes, other books and documents were on the interior window sill and near his second closet.
She walked in, contouring the obstacles and turned to see her son crippled over his desk, scribbling notes vigorously in a note pad. His computer was on, and the screen showed that he was surfing Internet, and was probably in a chat room, talking to a few persons. A few pages of a dictionary had been ripped from their hardback and a few definitions were circled with a black marker. Many of his science books were open.
Nathaniel didn't react when his mother had entered the room, but jumped when she placed her hand on his shoulder. In fact, he almost riposted with a judo move.
"MOM!" he shouted, catching his breath, looking at her wide-eyed.
"Nate, what's going on?" she half shouted, sounding troubled.
"I'm . . . I'm not feeling good," he said. "I have to find an answer," he said, sitting in his chair again. "It's not normal," he said, picking up his pen that had fallen on the floor.
He kept mumbling things, and his mother decided to leave him alone until supper. She gazed hazardously at the up-side-down room, and closed the door. She had absolutely never seen him act like this.
Downstairs, she turned on the television, and listened to the news, trying to get her mind off her son. A white haired man appeared in the screen.
"And now, Carol Fisher from New York," he said as a lady in a dark blue dress appeared in the screen, behind which we could see the senate.
"Senator Kelly's sudden change of judgment on mutants was so unexpected that people across the United Sates have been stopping their anti-mutant strikes for the past three weeks. The senate is now re-evaluating doctor Jean Grey's sanction of the mutant regulation."
Shayleen heard her son's door open, but no sound of footsteps was heard in the staircase. She turned around and saw him at the bottom of the steps, walking towards the living room. She only asked herself how he could have walked down the stairs so fast and without a sound, but didn't ask him anything.
Nathan walked to one of the armchairs, and sat on it without putting his weight in the seat. He looked at the television, listening to the documentary on mutants a certain doctor Grey had made for the senate hearing.
He felt his mother staring at him, and decided that it was best not to let her know he was probably a mutant, one of those living beings he referred to as 'humans gone retarded'.
"Mom, I'm sorry for the mess I made," he started, without taking his eyes off the T.V. "I was looking for this project that was due for last week, and I couldn't find it anywhere," he lied. "I was redoing it. By the way, Pegasus got into my room," he said, referring to his dog. "Completely ripped my pillow and aggrieved the mess I made. Feathers everywhere."
Shayleen looked considerably convinced, and she looked back at the T.V., now thinking that her son had just lost a piece of homework. They were, after all, what she thought were his first priority.
When the documentary on mutants was finished, Nate walked back to his room, seeing that it was four o'clock. He went in the designated chat room, entered his code, and waited for his correspondents to chat.
The first to arrive was the person under the name 'Morning Orbit', he knew belonged to his stringer in Hong Kong, named in fact Ming Yuan, a drug dealer working for the Yamasaki group. He started writing.
Bait Hunter,
Clients want a delivery of fifty dart riffles, capacity of five hundred feet, laser sight, model 405 made in Russia, if possible, or the American T- 4 model.
Darts: half an inch, sleeping darts and normal bullets.
Customs to be avoided, and delivered in the usual warehouse.
Morning Orbit.
Nathaniel smiled as he started tapping his response.
Morning Orbit,
No sooner said than done, but fortune favours the brave, doesn't it not?
A bad workman blames his tools.
Bait Hunter
He waited only a few seconds for an answer, as Morning Orbit replied.
Bait Hunter,
Twenty-five thousand American dollars to complete the job. An additional thirty thousand to your count and our trust to keep.
Morning Orbit.
Nathan found it was an easy job, and it paid well so he accepted the offer. Morning Orbit left the chat room and another client came to him. This one was one of his favorites because he always asked for difficult things to find, and it was a challenge to satisfy him. Of course, Nathan always did.
The person came from Russia and was part of a rebel grouping working against their country's government. He used the codename 'Silent Night'.
Bait Hunter, We need eight fake American passports and local papers.
Your price is ours.
Silent Night.
Nate thought for a moment, thinking about 'Morning Orbit's demand.
Silent Night, In exchange of my help, I would need fifty of your home made dart riffles (model 405) with all the additional equipment: laser sight, capacity of five hundred feet, a supply of darts: half an inch, sleeping darts and normal bullets. One good turn deserves another.
Bait Hunter
A few instants later, Silent Night answered back, and what he wrote brought a smile to Nathaniel's lips, showing one of his fangs.
Bait Hunter,
No sooner said than done. Every man to his own trade.
It would be my pleasure to get you're need against you're help.
Silent Night.
Nate thanked him, then left the chat room. He had enough work for a night.
Now that he was done with 'Morning Orbit's command, he only needed to infiltrate them in China, where his clients would go get them, to bring the weapons wherever they wanted. It was their problem after that, and if they were caught, no one could trace it back to him.
For 'Silent Night', he had an acquaintance working in transports and regulations that owed him a lot of money. It would be easy enough to get him to make those passports, fake identities and citizenships.
Now that he had finished his business, he came back to his own problem. When he had realized that those fangs probably showed him he was a mutant, he had totally freaked out. That had explained the mess in his room as he was desperately thinking of something to do so he could stop this from happening to him.
He had found precious information, most written by Doctor Jean Grey, about different cases of mutation with teenagers.
It was hard for him to accept what he had become, and he felt the need to confess to someone. For that, he called his best pal, Max.
He searched for his phone for some time, and finally found it under a pile of books and papers he had tossed in a corner. He dialed the number he knew by heart, and the line was answered by Maxim's mother. He asked to talk to him, and a few moments later, he was talking very fast, trying to tell him to meet him near the arcades near the shopping center, tomorrow morning, around eight o'clock. He finished by saying that it was important, then hung up after thanking Max to have accepted.
He engaged conversation at the table during the supper, and it made his mother's last suspicions fly away. Of course, he was careful not to open his mouth too much so she wouldn't remark his fangs.
He pretended to be tiered after eating, and retired to his room, where he continued his research on mutants with the help of Internet.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A lot of blab. but it was just to really put Nate in the status of 'criminal'.
Review? P-p-p-please?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter 2: discovery
Nathan woke up with a head-splitting headache. He opened his eyes, even if it caused him great pain, and looked over at the clock on his night table. It blinked ten thirty a.m. His eyes lit up in horror as he realized that he should have been at school two hours ago.
"How could he have slept twenty hours non-stop?" was the first question that raced to his mind.
He got to his feet, and walked at a snail's pace to his bathroom. He turned on the shower's tap of cold water and slipped under the jet of liquid after having stripped off his clothes in a slapdash fashion. He let the water vivify his senses and finish waking him up, then opened his eyes again. Somehow, he felt a funny sensation in his mind. It was like if he knew things, that he didn't remember studying. Quite an unusual feeling indeed. After drying himself and putting on dry clothes, he walked downstairs to find a note on the fridge written with a purple marker. It was written: I couldn't wake you up in the morning and you looked so tiered that I'll let you stay home today. There's yesterday's supper in the oven, you just need to heat it up if you want to eat it. It was signed mom in a particularly loopy writing he knew belonged to his mother.
Shayleen Cage was a manager at the bank of his town. She worked nine hours per day and made a fair amount of money. Philip Cage, his father, was working with the American government, and was currently in Washington, arguing against mutant regulations. He came back home about a month on two, but always kept in touch.
Since they weren't at all in a difficult money position, Nathan had never mentioned that he had more than three millions in a Swiss account. What was the point?
He opened the fridge and took out the milk carton and the strawberry jam. He placed them on the counter and opened the food cupboard to pull out a loaf of bread. After spreading his jam on one of the broad pieces, he took a bite.
He realized that the bread was somehow much easier to masticate than it was regularly. He finished his piece of bread and passed his index in his teeth to get rid of the strawberry seeds. He pulled it out quickly when he felt a piercing pain on it. He looked at it with fascination, seeing that it was completely gashed, crimson blood gliding in the palm of his hand. He passed his tongue in his mouth but felt nothing. He ran to the small bathroom next to the T.V. room and looked at himself in the glass cabinet. Nothing was wrong with his face . . . before he showed his teeth to the glass. He gasped in surprise, seeing two fangs on either side of his mouth. They weren't visible when he smiled, and only a little noticeable when he talked, but when he opened his mouth completely, they were totally in evidence. Questions rushed to his head. What had happened to him?
~~~~~~
"Nate? Are you awake?" a feminine voice asked form the bottom of the stairs.
No response was heard.
"Honey?" the same voice said, walking up the stairs.
A woman with a mix of blond and brown hair appeared, wearing a red skirt and top that matched.
She opened her son's bedroom door and peeked inside. Her jaw dropped as she saw the room completely upside down: the bed had been moved in an oblique position to look under it, and one of the pillows was ripped, feathers on a big part of the covers. They had been vaguely picked from the floor, where there were books, papers and storing boxes that were niftily stored in his closet a few hours ago. Clothes, other books and documents were on the interior window sill and near his second closet.
She walked in, contouring the obstacles and turned to see her son crippled over his desk, scribbling notes vigorously in a note pad. His computer was on, and the screen showed that he was surfing Internet, and was probably in a chat room, talking to a few persons. A few pages of a dictionary had been ripped from their hardback and a few definitions were circled with a black marker. Many of his science books were open.
Nathaniel didn't react when his mother had entered the room, but jumped when she placed her hand on his shoulder. In fact, he almost riposted with a judo move.
"MOM!" he shouted, catching his breath, looking at her wide-eyed.
"Nate, what's going on?" she half shouted, sounding troubled.
"I'm . . . I'm not feeling good," he said. "I have to find an answer," he said, sitting in his chair again. "It's not normal," he said, picking up his pen that had fallen on the floor.
He kept mumbling things, and his mother decided to leave him alone until supper. She gazed hazardously at the up-side-down room, and closed the door. She had absolutely never seen him act like this.
Downstairs, she turned on the television, and listened to the news, trying to get her mind off her son. A white haired man appeared in the screen.
"And now, Carol Fisher from New York," he said as a lady in a dark blue dress appeared in the screen, behind which we could see the senate.
"Senator Kelly's sudden change of judgment on mutants was so unexpected that people across the United Sates have been stopping their anti-mutant strikes for the past three weeks. The senate is now re-evaluating doctor Jean Grey's sanction of the mutant regulation."
Shayleen heard her son's door open, but no sound of footsteps was heard in the staircase. She turned around and saw him at the bottom of the steps, walking towards the living room. She only asked herself how he could have walked down the stairs so fast and without a sound, but didn't ask him anything.
Nathan walked to one of the armchairs, and sat on it without putting his weight in the seat. He looked at the television, listening to the documentary on mutants a certain doctor Grey had made for the senate hearing.
He felt his mother staring at him, and decided that it was best not to let her know he was probably a mutant, one of those living beings he referred to as 'humans gone retarded'.
"Mom, I'm sorry for the mess I made," he started, without taking his eyes off the T.V. "I was looking for this project that was due for last week, and I couldn't find it anywhere," he lied. "I was redoing it. By the way, Pegasus got into my room," he said, referring to his dog. "Completely ripped my pillow and aggrieved the mess I made. Feathers everywhere."
Shayleen looked considerably convinced, and she looked back at the T.V., now thinking that her son had just lost a piece of homework. They were, after all, what she thought were his first priority.
When the documentary on mutants was finished, Nate walked back to his room, seeing that it was four o'clock. He went in the designated chat room, entered his code, and waited for his correspondents to chat.
The first to arrive was the person under the name 'Morning Orbit', he knew belonged to his stringer in Hong Kong, named in fact Ming Yuan, a drug dealer working for the Yamasaki group. He started writing.
Bait Hunter,
Clients want a delivery of fifty dart riffles, capacity of five hundred feet, laser sight, model 405 made in Russia, if possible, or the American T- 4 model.
Darts: half an inch, sleeping darts and normal bullets.
Customs to be avoided, and delivered in the usual warehouse.
Morning Orbit.
Nathaniel smiled as he started tapping his response.
Morning Orbit,
No sooner said than done, but fortune favours the brave, doesn't it not?
A bad workman blames his tools.
Bait Hunter
He waited only a few seconds for an answer, as Morning Orbit replied.
Bait Hunter,
Twenty-five thousand American dollars to complete the job. An additional thirty thousand to your count and our trust to keep.
Morning Orbit.
Nathan found it was an easy job, and it paid well so he accepted the offer. Morning Orbit left the chat room and another client came to him. This one was one of his favorites because he always asked for difficult things to find, and it was a challenge to satisfy him. Of course, Nathan always did.
The person came from Russia and was part of a rebel grouping working against their country's government. He used the codename 'Silent Night'.
Bait Hunter, We need eight fake American passports and local papers.
Your price is ours.
Silent Night.
Nate thought for a moment, thinking about 'Morning Orbit's demand.
Silent Night, In exchange of my help, I would need fifty of your home made dart riffles (model 405) with all the additional equipment: laser sight, capacity of five hundred feet, a supply of darts: half an inch, sleeping darts and normal bullets. One good turn deserves another.
Bait Hunter
A few instants later, Silent Night answered back, and what he wrote brought a smile to Nathaniel's lips, showing one of his fangs.
Bait Hunter,
No sooner said than done. Every man to his own trade.
It would be my pleasure to get you're need against you're help.
Silent Night.
Nate thanked him, then left the chat room. He had enough work for a night.
Now that he was done with 'Morning Orbit's command, he only needed to infiltrate them in China, where his clients would go get them, to bring the weapons wherever they wanted. It was their problem after that, and if they were caught, no one could trace it back to him.
For 'Silent Night', he had an acquaintance working in transports and regulations that owed him a lot of money. It would be easy enough to get him to make those passports, fake identities and citizenships.
Now that he had finished his business, he came back to his own problem. When he had realized that those fangs probably showed him he was a mutant, he had totally freaked out. That had explained the mess in his room as he was desperately thinking of something to do so he could stop this from happening to him.
He had found precious information, most written by Doctor Jean Grey, about different cases of mutation with teenagers.
It was hard for him to accept what he had become, and he felt the need to confess to someone. For that, he called his best pal, Max.
He searched for his phone for some time, and finally found it under a pile of books and papers he had tossed in a corner. He dialed the number he knew by heart, and the line was answered by Maxim's mother. He asked to talk to him, and a few moments later, he was talking very fast, trying to tell him to meet him near the arcades near the shopping center, tomorrow morning, around eight o'clock. He finished by saying that it was important, then hung up after thanking Max to have accepted.
He engaged conversation at the table during the supper, and it made his mother's last suspicions fly away. Of course, he was careful not to open his mouth too much so she wouldn't remark his fangs.
He pretended to be tiered after eating, and retired to his room, where he continued his research on mutants with the help of Internet.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A lot of blab. but it was just to really put Nate in the status of 'criminal'.
Review? P-p-p-please?