*They say freak
When you're singled out
The red
Well, it filters through
So lay down
The threat is real
When his sight
Goes red again*
Seeing red again
This change
He won't contain
Slip away
To clear your mind
When asked
Who made it show
The truth
He gives in to most*
*Chevelle - The Red*
A few days later:
Angel was going back to school.
Recovery was both longer and shorter than expected; longer for Angel, shorter for Bryan. Her main problem was lack of energy, compounded with the uncountable cuts and holes all over her body. With aid from medicines, skin lotions, good eating, and her own incredible regenerative abilities, the wounds quickly faded to wide, horrific scars. The only visible injury, to the public, was her shattered left wrist. It was encased in a plastic cast, thin enough to fit in the sleeves of her new trenchcoat. Her old one had been shredded. She'd taken to wearing a pair of fingerless black gloves with open backs, too, to hide the new scars on her hands. The new gloves just barely covered them.
When she was finally up and about, she'd only missed one day. She'd been attacked on a Friday night, and now she returned to school on a Tuesday. It was the only day of school she'd ever missed, and she presented her broken wrist, saying she'd tripped and fallen on the basement stairs. It was a poor excuse, and reluctantly accepted, and Angel almost failed to convince them.
Back at school, she got a few stares but was otherwise left alone. Business as usual. The news of the attack was all over the school, and the halls buzzed with gossip. A lot of students were of course saying that Angel probably did it. However, and most fortunately, the most popular theory was that there'd been a fight amongst the Breakers, which resulted in the total destruction of the entire gang. Several of the thugs had died from bleeding to death, but it was impossible to tell where one body's blood stopped and another started. Plus, it had rained hours after the attack, washing away most of the evidence.
There was one major change, though. A week before the attack, Jeff Clay had started sitting at her table. Beforehand, he'd just fling a casual hello at her in the hallway, which she rarely returned. Now he was sitting with her at lunch.
She found the reason why he was so interested in her: He was planning to major in psychology when he got to college, which explained his fascination with her rather unorthodox mindset. He was amazed when she informed him that she refused to worry about things beyond her control, as it wasted time and effort. It was a pleasant change to have a decent conversation with someone her age, and they talked about everything, including each other.
He was named after his father, he told her sourly. David Jeffery Clay, Jr, but he went by Jeff. He utterly hated to be called Davey, which she of course called him whenever she thought about it. So used to being alone, it was hard to accept a companion, but companion he was, and that was that. No matter how harsh her tone, how intense her gaze, how brutal her words, he loved to talk to her. Gradually she accepted him as something on the boundaries of a friend, but she wasn't ready to admit it yet.
He cajoled her into giving him her phone number, and called her often with questions about homework, as he lacked the attention span necessary for Geometry. She was in calculus, and having only the slightest difficulty. Both of them wondered what her IQ was. She didn't have the slightest qualms about beating him into the ground during P.E., but she gradually felt sorry for him and gave him some pointers, and with her help he made the baseball team. He persuaded her to join the debate team, which she took by storm and won numerous awards for the school. Except for her appearance, her abilities, and her forgotten past (her entire being, in other words), she was almost normal.
Graduation finally rolled around, which meant that it was almost time for Angel to leave. She hadn't told Jeff she had to leave yet. She still didn't know where to go. Japan would probably be the best for her, but Bryan didn't speak Japanese. He didn't really want to move, anyway. Cassandra was in this town, and dammit, he wanted to stay. Angel had briefly suggested that she just go away by herself, but Bryan wouldn't hear of it.
In his private mind, he still needed Angel to kick Abel's ass for him. Why don't I just do it myself? he asked himself. Simple. If he simply told Abel to repair him, then went to sleep under Abel's surgical implements, there was no telling what Abel might do to him. He needed Angel to watch his back.
One day, while they were at home, the phone rang. Angel was in the kitchen doing something, maybe washing dishes, while Bryan was watching TV in his usual manner. "Can you get that?" Angel called. Bryan sighed, stood, and ambled over to the phone.
"Hello?" He asked, not too politely. It was a good show on TV.
"Mr. Fury?" came the unfamiliar voice. It wasn't that deep, but it was really raspy, like Al Pacino or something.
"Yeah, I'm Bryan Fury. Who is this?"
"That's not important. You and your 'sister' are very important to us. We need to speak with you." The voice was quiet and purposeful, not unlike those old gangster movies. Bryan thought he detected an accent.
Angel walked out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. "Who is that?" she asked, but he waved her away.
"Do you understand, Mr. Fury?" The voice rasped.
"Yeah." He listened as the voice gave the time and place to meet. Yeah, there was a barely-detectable Japanese accent here. Abruptly the connection was severed, leaving Bryan with a bad feeling.
"Who was that?" Angel demanded.
"Nobody." When she started to interrupt, he glared at her. "It was nobody, okay? Just leave it the hell alone."
Visibly disturbed, she went back to the kitchen. Bryan plopped back on the loveseat, his thoughts no longer on the TV. That could only have been a message from one person: Dr. Abel. While it didn't overly worry him, he did feel the smallest sense of dread. Abruptly he realized that the date was the same day as Angel's graduation ceremony, the time just a little after it. He'd sworn up and down that he'd make it to the ceremony, and he'd be damned if he'd miss it.
The night of graduation finally arrived. Bryan was apprehensive about the night's meeting with the mysterious callers, but he did his best not to think about it, knowing that Angel would pick up on it. She pointed out Jeff's parents in the assembled crowd, and hurried off to join the fellow seniors. At the foot of the bleachers, Bryan suffered a small coughing fit before climbing the stairs. When he seated himself next to the trio of Clays, the little girl scooted closer to her father. Bryan gave her an odd look, and settled himself more comfortably on the aluminum risers. She returned the look with one of fear, and he could almost detect a whimper coming from her. Her father was giving him a dirty look.
Abruptly he realized that these people had no idea who he was. He turned to the father, seated between his wife and child, and stuck out his hand. "I don't think we've met. I'm Bryan Fury, Angel's older brother." The entire family relaxed about three hairs. Finally the man introduced himself as David Clay, as well as his wife Loraine, and their daughter Christie. There was a tolerant silence between them the rest of the ceremony. Obviously the Clays were none to happy with Jeff's companionship with Angel. Nor were they impressed with her pale, scarred, tattoed brother with the black T-shirt and fake-snakeskin pants.
The ceremony was long-winded and boring, and Bryan nearly nodded off twice. The highlight was Angel standing next to her friend Jeff, both diplomas held high, both faces plastered with triumphant grins. Angel's greatest hell was over. Now a new one was about to begin.
Angel was sticking around after the ceremony for a little thing called Project Graduation, where the school held a party-like atmosphere, having games and food and such, in an effort to keep the kids from going and doing something stupid on their first night of freedom. The thing lasted until three in the morning, so Bryan quickly bid his younger sister good night.
He drove quickly to the meeting place, in an abandoned lot in the bad part of town. It reminded him eerily of that night so long ago, that night where his life had ended. The clouds in his mind were dark, until an even darker one passed by. Wulong, Bryan thought. His trusted partner had left him for dead. He hadn't even looked back. God, if he ever got his hands on that Mandarin bastard, he'd-
His thoughts were interrupted by a car horn. A black SUV, blending in well with the dingy walls of this grimy part of the city. A man in a business suit with the overcoat unbuttoned stepped out, followed by three similarly dressed "suits." Every one of them was probably packing at least one weapon, probably two. Their features were Japanese. The leader spoke to him, and it was indeed the person who'd spoken to him on the phone. "Mr. Fury?"
Although unarmed, Bryan wasn't the least bit worried. Curious would have been a better word. "Yeah, I'm Bryan Fury. You wanna tell me what this is about?"
"I'll ask the questions, Prototype." At this, Bryan's eyebrows came together. Yeah, this was definitely one of Abel's men. "Your master is back in power, and he wishes his experiment to return to him."
"Which one?" Bryan growled.
"You. The girl is of no consequence. If she will not take orders, she is of no use to my master."
"No consequence?" Bryan sputtered. A long time ago, he had been a detective asking questions, and he remembered how this game was played. Stay cool, and keep on guard. "So what does that leave for her?"
The Japanese man held up a silencing hand. "The girl has called far too much attention to herself. So have you." The brown eyes, seemingly devoid of emotion, locked onto Bryan's. "She will die. You will come with us."
"Like hell I will. How long has that little fucker been watching us?" He was trying to make the other lose his cool, and it was working.
The Japanese glared. "HE has been watching the both of you ever since you left. He had intended you to pair with the girl, to make a formidable fighting force. You have disappointed him."
Bryan managed to keep a poker face as he digested this information. Him and Angel together, to do Abel's bidding? That guy didn't know when to quit. Quietly he slipped on his black gloves as he faced the man. "So who are you supposed to be?"
"That does not matter," the man said coldly. "Your orders are to kill the girl. If you succeed, Dr. Abel will prolong your life."
Bryan's thin mouth stretched into a tight smile. "Why don't you do that yourself? Scared of a little girl?"
The man stiffened. "She is a highly-trained Tekkenshu operative. I am not qualified to face her."
"Coward." Bryan didn't miss a beat. In for a dime, in for a dollar. "So you admit that you'd get your ass kicked by a girl? An AMERICAN TEENAGER, at that?" Honor was everything to these guys, he remembered.
The man lost it. He pointed a thin finger at the American. "You will do as you are told!" He was starting to sweat, feeling the eyes of his men upon him. "You will kill the girl, or we will eliminate you!"
Almost there, thought Bryan. "Then Abel would get pissed at you, and you wouldn't get the privilege of getting fucked by that little gay bastard anymore. Pity poor you."
"Fool!" The man shouted, drawing a pair of handguns out of his overcoat. His subordinates followed suit.
Ha, thought Bryan. I win. He charged forward, and the nameless suits scattered, heading back for the SUV. The speaker turned and ran down the alley, screeching in Japanese into a handheld radio. Bryan followed, though his target was a faster runner.
He rushed down the alley, knocking over a garbage can. Damn, that little asian bastard was fast, he thought, when suddenly the alley was flooded with light. He halted in his tracks, throwing a hand in front of his eyes. He HATED bright light. He heard footsteps, and listened as five figures stepped in front of the light-source and pointed assault rifles at him. Tekkenshu, he thought angrily. The same bastards that killed me the first time. He paused, gathering his anger, before rushing forward.
The Tekkenshu opened fire, but this didn't faze Bryan, who threw his hands protectively in front of his eyes and let his BULLETPROOF chest take the shots. He could almost FEEL the Tekkenshus' disbelief as they squeezed their triggers even harder, trying through sheer will to make the bullets penetrate.
Bryan charged down the alley, much to his enemies' disbelief. Then leaped and rolled to the side as the source of that infernal searchlight was revealed: A tank. A fucking goddamn human tank! At the end of that massive barrel, a small reddish light shone, and grew, and spewed forth a shell the size of his head. It impacted his chest, and he was engulfed in flames, but only for a split second. He shot through the intense heat, and lept atop the mammoth machine. Doing the first thing that came to mind, he wrapped his hands around the barrel and crouched, then heaved upward with his legs and arms. His mouth opened and his back strained with the effort, and his brown dress-shoes were showered with sparks as the head of the tank was lifted clear of its body.
There he was, standing atop the tank with its head in his arms. Hearing shrill cries over his shoulder, he turned to see the Tekkenshu, as well as the man in the suit, scrambling like poor bastards to get as far away from him as possible. What the hell, he thought. He spun in place before releasing his massive weapon, hurling it like a discus, and watched it spin through the air before landing directly on the group, engulfing them in a massive explosion.
He stared at the destruction he had caused for a moment, before he could contain himself no longer. He gathered himself up before letting his long, eerie laugh ring out through the night air. He was invincible! Nothing could stop him!
Still chuckling to himself, he made his way back down the alley, to his truck. It was about 10:00, so if he went home now nobody would miss him. Hell, nobody would miss him anyway.
He'd just walked in and closed the door when a pair of headlights flashed outside. Pulling off his charred, bullet-holed black T-shirt and pulling on yet another black one, he opened the door to reveal Cassandra climbing out of her red Intrepid. She gave him that sultry smile that told him she was ready to play. And play they did, as he led her inside.
When Angel came home at about 2:00 in the morning, she failed to notice Cassandra's car. She didn't feel anything untoward in her mind, either, after she had discreetly dimmed her link with her brother. All she thought about was how tired she was, how great it was to graduate high school, and how much she was going to miss her friend Jeff when she finally moved away.
It was a fragile idyll, and one that would shatter very soon.
When you're singled out
The red
Well, it filters through
So lay down
The threat is real
When his sight
Goes red again*
Seeing red again
This change
He won't contain
Slip away
To clear your mind
When asked
Who made it show
The truth
He gives in to most*
*Chevelle - The Red*
A few days later:
Angel was going back to school.
Recovery was both longer and shorter than expected; longer for Angel, shorter for Bryan. Her main problem was lack of energy, compounded with the uncountable cuts and holes all over her body. With aid from medicines, skin lotions, good eating, and her own incredible regenerative abilities, the wounds quickly faded to wide, horrific scars. The only visible injury, to the public, was her shattered left wrist. It was encased in a plastic cast, thin enough to fit in the sleeves of her new trenchcoat. Her old one had been shredded. She'd taken to wearing a pair of fingerless black gloves with open backs, too, to hide the new scars on her hands. The new gloves just barely covered them.
When she was finally up and about, she'd only missed one day. She'd been attacked on a Friday night, and now she returned to school on a Tuesday. It was the only day of school she'd ever missed, and she presented her broken wrist, saying she'd tripped and fallen on the basement stairs. It was a poor excuse, and reluctantly accepted, and Angel almost failed to convince them.
Back at school, she got a few stares but was otherwise left alone. Business as usual. The news of the attack was all over the school, and the halls buzzed with gossip. A lot of students were of course saying that Angel probably did it. However, and most fortunately, the most popular theory was that there'd been a fight amongst the Breakers, which resulted in the total destruction of the entire gang. Several of the thugs had died from bleeding to death, but it was impossible to tell where one body's blood stopped and another started. Plus, it had rained hours after the attack, washing away most of the evidence.
There was one major change, though. A week before the attack, Jeff Clay had started sitting at her table. Beforehand, he'd just fling a casual hello at her in the hallway, which she rarely returned. Now he was sitting with her at lunch.
She found the reason why he was so interested in her: He was planning to major in psychology when he got to college, which explained his fascination with her rather unorthodox mindset. He was amazed when she informed him that she refused to worry about things beyond her control, as it wasted time and effort. It was a pleasant change to have a decent conversation with someone her age, and they talked about everything, including each other.
He was named after his father, he told her sourly. David Jeffery Clay, Jr, but he went by Jeff. He utterly hated to be called Davey, which she of course called him whenever she thought about it. So used to being alone, it was hard to accept a companion, but companion he was, and that was that. No matter how harsh her tone, how intense her gaze, how brutal her words, he loved to talk to her. Gradually she accepted him as something on the boundaries of a friend, but she wasn't ready to admit it yet.
He cajoled her into giving him her phone number, and called her often with questions about homework, as he lacked the attention span necessary for Geometry. She was in calculus, and having only the slightest difficulty. Both of them wondered what her IQ was. She didn't have the slightest qualms about beating him into the ground during P.E., but she gradually felt sorry for him and gave him some pointers, and with her help he made the baseball team. He persuaded her to join the debate team, which she took by storm and won numerous awards for the school. Except for her appearance, her abilities, and her forgotten past (her entire being, in other words), she was almost normal.
Graduation finally rolled around, which meant that it was almost time for Angel to leave. She hadn't told Jeff she had to leave yet. She still didn't know where to go. Japan would probably be the best for her, but Bryan didn't speak Japanese. He didn't really want to move, anyway. Cassandra was in this town, and dammit, he wanted to stay. Angel had briefly suggested that she just go away by herself, but Bryan wouldn't hear of it.
In his private mind, he still needed Angel to kick Abel's ass for him. Why don't I just do it myself? he asked himself. Simple. If he simply told Abel to repair him, then went to sleep under Abel's surgical implements, there was no telling what Abel might do to him. He needed Angel to watch his back.
One day, while they were at home, the phone rang. Angel was in the kitchen doing something, maybe washing dishes, while Bryan was watching TV in his usual manner. "Can you get that?" Angel called. Bryan sighed, stood, and ambled over to the phone.
"Hello?" He asked, not too politely. It was a good show on TV.
"Mr. Fury?" came the unfamiliar voice. It wasn't that deep, but it was really raspy, like Al Pacino or something.
"Yeah, I'm Bryan Fury. Who is this?"
"That's not important. You and your 'sister' are very important to us. We need to speak with you." The voice was quiet and purposeful, not unlike those old gangster movies. Bryan thought he detected an accent.
Angel walked out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. "Who is that?" she asked, but he waved her away.
"Do you understand, Mr. Fury?" The voice rasped.
"Yeah." He listened as the voice gave the time and place to meet. Yeah, there was a barely-detectable Japanese accent here. Abruptly the connection was severed, leaving Bryan with a bad feeling.
"Who was that?" Angel demanded.
"Nobody." When she started to interrupt, he glared at her. "It was nobody, okay? Just leave it the hell alone."
Visibly disturbed, she went back to the kitchen. Bryan plopped back on the loveseat, his thoughts no longer on the TV. That could only have been a message from one person: Dr. Abel. While it didn't overly worry him, he did feel the smallest sense of dread. Abruptly he realized that the date was the same day as Angel's graduation ceremony, the time just a little after it. He'd sworn up and down that he'd make it to the ceremony, and he'd be damned if he'd miss it.
The night of graduation finally arrived. Bryan was apprehensive about the night's meeting with the mysterious callers, but he did his best not to think about it, knowing that Angel would pick up on it. She pointed out Jeff's parents in the assembled crowd, and hurried off to join the fellow seniors. At the foot of the bleachers, Bryan suffered a small coughing fit before climbing the stairs. When he seated himself next to the trio of Clays, the little girl scooted closer to her father. Bryan gave her an odd look, and settled himself more comfortably on the aluminum risers. She returned the look with one of fear, and he could almost detect a whimper coming from her. Her father was giving him a dirty look.
Abruptly he realized that these people had no idea who he was. He turned to the father, seated between his wife and child, and stuck out his hand. "I don't think we've met. I'm Bryan Fury, Angel's older brother." The entire family relaxed about three hairs. Finally the man introduced himself as David Clay, as well as his wife Loraine, and their daughter Christie. There was a tolerant silence between them the rest of the ceremony. Obviously the Clays were none to happy with Jeff's companionship with Angel. Nor were they impressed with her pale, scarred, tattoed brother with the black T-shirt and fake-snakeskin pants.
The ceremony was long-winded and boring, and Bryan nearly nodded off twice. The highlight was Angel standing next to her friend Jeff, both diplomas held high, both faces plastered with triumphant grins. Angel's greatest hell was over. Now a new one was about to begin.
Angel was sticking around after the ceremony for a little thing called Project Graduation, where the school held a party-like atmosphere, having games and food and such, in an effort to keep the kids from going and doing something stupid on their first night of freedom. The thing lasted until three in the morning, so Bryan quickly bid his younger sister good night.
He drove quickly to the meeting place, in an abandoned lot in the bad part of town. It reminded him eerily of that night so long ago, that night where his life had ended. The clouds in his mind were dark, until an even darker one passed by. Wulong, Bryan thought. His trusted partner had left him for dead. He hadn't even looked back. God, if he ever got his hands on that Mandarin bastard, he'd-
His thoughts were interrupted by a car horn. A black SUV, blending in well with the dingy walls of this grimy part of the city. A man in a business suit with the overcoat unbuttoned stepped out, followed by three similarly dressed "suits." Every one of them was probably packing at least one weapon, probably two. Their features were Japanese. The leader spoke to him, and it was indeed the person who'd spoken to him on the phone. "Mr. Fury?"
Although unarmed, Bryan wasn't the least bit worried. Curious would have been a better word. "Yeah, I'm Bryan Fury. You wanna tell me what this is about?"
"I'll ask the questions, Prototype." At this, Bryan's eyebrows came together. Yeah, this was definitely one of Abel's men. "Your master is back in power, and he wishes his experiment to return to him."
"Which one?" Bryan growled.
"You. The girl is of no consequence. If she will not take orders, she is of no use to my master."
"No consequence?" Bryan sputtered. A long time ago, he had been a detective asking questions, and he remembered how this game was played. Stay cool, and keep on guard. "So what does that leave for her?"
The Japanese man held up a silencing hand. "The girl has called far too much attention to herself. So have you." The brown eyes, seemingly devoid of emotion, locked onto Bryan's. "She will die. You will come with us."
"Like hell I will. How long has that little fucker been watching us?" He was trying to make the other lose his cool, and it was working.
The Japanese glared. "HE has been watching the both of you ever since you left. He had intended you to pair with the girl, to make a formidable fighting force. You have disappointed him."
Bryan managed to keep a poker face as he digested this information. Him and Angel together, to do Abel's bidding? That guy didn't know when to quit. Quietly he slipped on his black gloves as he faced the man. "So who are you supposed to be?"
"That does not matter," the man said coldly. "Your orders are to kill the girl. If you succeed, Dr. Abel will prolong your life."
Bryan's thin mouth stretched into a tight smile. "Why don't you do that yourself? Scared of a little girl?"
The man stiffened. "She is a highly-trained Tekkenshu operative. I am not qualified to face her."
"Coward." Bryan didn't miss a beat. In for a dime, in for a dollar. "So you admit that you'd get your ass kicked by a girl? An AMERICAN TEENAGER, at that?" Honor was everything to these guys, he remembered.
The man lost it. He pointed a thin finger at the American. "You will do as you are told!" He was starting to sweat, feeling the eyes of his men upon him. "You will kill the girl, or we will eliminate you!"
Almost there, thought Bryan. "Then Abel would get pissed at you, and you wouldn't get the privilege of getting fucked by that little gay bastard anymore. Pity poor you."
"Fool!" The man shouted, drawing a pair of handguns out of his overcoat. His subordinates followed suit.
Ha, thought Bryan. I win. He charged forward, and the nameless suits scattered, heading back for the SUV. The speaker turned and ran down the alley, screeching in Japanese into a handheld radio. Bryan followed, though his target was a faster runner.
He rushed down the alley, knocking over a garbage can. Damn, that little asian bastard was fast, he thought, when suddenly the alley was flooded with light. He halted in his tracks, throwing a hand in front of his eyes. He HATED bright light. He heard footsteps, and listened as five figures stepped in front of the light-source and pointed assault rifles at him. Tekkenshu, he thought angrily. The same bastards that killed me the first time. He paused, gathering his anger, before rushing forward.
The Tekkenshu opened fire, but this didn't faze Bryan, who threw his hands protectively in front of his eyes and let his BULLETPROOF chest take the shots. He could almost FEEL the Tekkenshus' disbelief as they squeezed their triggers even harder, trying through sheer will to make the bullets penetrate.
Bryan charged down the alley, much to his enemies' disbelief. Then leaped and rolled to the side as the source of that infernal searchlight was revealed: A tank. A fucking goddamn human tank! At the end of that massive barrel, a small reddish light shone, and grew, and spewed forth a shell the size of his head. It impacted his chest, and he was engulfed in flames, but only for a split second. He shot through the intense heat, and lept atop the mammoth machine. Doing the first thing that came to mind, he wrapped his hands around the barrel and crouched, then heaved upward with his legs and arms. His mouth opened and his back strained with the effort, and his brown dress-shoes were showered with sparks as the head of the tank was lifted clear of its body.
There he was, standing atop the tank with its head in his arms. Hearing shrill cries over his shoulder, he turned to see the Tekkenshu, as well as the man in the suit, scrambling like poor bastards to get as far away from him as possible. What the hell, he thought. He spun in place before releasing his massive weapon, hurling it like a discus, and watched it spin through the air before landing directly on the group, engulfing them in a massive explosion.
He stared at the destruction he had caused for a moment, before he could contain himself no longer. He gathered himself up before letting his long, eerie laugh ring out through the night air. He was invincible! Nothing could stop him!
Still chuckling to himself, he made his way back down the alley, to his truck. It was about 10:00, so if he went home now nobody would miss him. Hell, nobody would miss him anyway.
He'd just walked in and closed the door when a pair of headlights flashed outside. Pulling off his charred, bullet-holed black T-shirt and pulling on yet another black one, he opened the door to reveal Cassandra climbing out of her red Intrepid. She gave him that sultry smile that told him she was ready to play. And play they did, as he led her inside.
When Angel came home at about 2:00 in the morning, she failed to notice Cassandra's car. She didn't feel anything untoward in her mind, either, after she had discreetly dimmed her link with her brother. All she thought about was how tired she was, how great it was to graduate high school, and how much she was going to miss her friend Jeff when she finally moved away.
It was a fragile idyll, and one that would shatter very soon.