...-sneaks in- Erm...I'm back? -crings from angry readers- I know, I know, I took so long...and this is a short chapter...-wail-
By the way, ALL REVIEW REPLYS EXCEPT DIRECT QUESTIONS OR CRITICISM WILL BE POSTED ON MY BIO PAGE, UNDER FANFICTION RELATED, 'cause I heard a rumour that you weren't allowed to reply in chapters anymore.
Thank you for waiting!
blackkaosrose- Aya's annoying? How? Like Mary-Sue annoying? Tell meeee...I need this kind of criticism!
Wolfchilde- Wahhhh! Loved your review! So long and interesting...Yay!
Kearia Hikari- Yay! A new reviewer! Yay! Yay! Yay!
cry of the wolf- Woah...I'm so happy you like it! Yay!
Dedications:
To cry of the wolf, who totally made me happy with her review, and to Kearia Hikari, a new reviewer! Yay! Love you guys!
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" Aargh!" An expensive china vase shattered, its pieces scraping the veined marble floor. Soon after, an ottoman followed, one of its legs torn off.
Furious, clawed hands sank into the leather sofa, and ripped chunks off. Stuffing, springs and butter-soft leather flew in the air. As a finishing touch, they pushed the sofa over, knocking it into a Venetian glass coffee table. The glass cracked and collapsed, jagged pieces digging into the velvet carpet.
Tala momentarily stopped, his chest heaving as he paused for breath. With another, half-hearted yell he ripped the silk curtains from where they hung. As they fell to the floor, so did he, flopping himself down.
Completely demolishing the $71000 living room had made him feel a bit better, but not much.
He was so frustrated! It had happened again! His mind had gone haywire. It was the same every time, the mounting pain, and then the raw clarity. It was the clear part that confused him the most. He seemed to realize some things, and to discover some things each time. But then he would return to normal, and it would all be a faint, escaping memory.
He would've checked with a doctor for a brain tumour, but for that memory. Something told him it wasn't medical.
Tala groaned, sitting up. The flashes, as he called them, happened about three times a week now. He cradled his tender head in his hands. He was going insane, he knew it…
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Kai tenderly wrapped his sprained wrist in a bandage.
" You sure you don't need help?" Spencer bent forward, concerned.
" I'm good." Kai grunted.
" Are you sure?" Ian pressed.
" Yes!" Kai snapped. The room fell into a stony silence. Spencer and Ian sat back, their faces impassive. Kai sighed.
" Sorry." He said gruffly. The two affronted men nodded in acceptance of the apology.
" So, are you sure Tala had a relapse?" Bryan changed the subject.
" Yes." Kai nodded fervently. " I'm positive. I could see it in his eyes. And his voice." Kai lowered his head, his eyes shadowed.
The four young men were quiet again, mulling over the new information.
" So that means there's hope." Spencer broke the silence.
" Yeah! So we can get Tala back!" Ian stood up, a grin on his face.
" But how are we going to do that? After all, I don't even know caused the relapse." Kai mused, tapping a pencil against the table he sat before.
" Do you think it had something to do with you beating him up?" Ian asked wryly.
" Maybe." Kai was all seriousness. " But that's a risky method."
" Yeah. What if we cause permanent damage?" Spencer agreed.
" Maybe…" Bryan hesitated. The others looked at him attentively. " Maybe we can send things. You know, recall objects. Pictures that'll trigger his memories."
Kai nodded contemplatively. " That could work…"
" Where'd you get such a girly idea, Bryan? From Calypso?" Ian teased.
Bryan's face hardened and he hit Ian around the head. " Shut up."
" Oww…" Ian moaned, rubbing his forehead. " Learn to take a jok – ow!" Another smack.
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" Can you stand still for a moment?" Kai requested roughly. The fangirls he and Tala used to make fun of squealed and posed. He snapped a picture. For the past two hours he'd been taking pictures of everything and anything Tala might remember. He'd taken photos of benches, trees, even a piece of gum they'd hidden under a desk. It was a little desperate, but it was all they had.
The Russian boy gruffly thanked the swooning girls, and went off in search of Aya and her friends.
" Really?" Was the reaction of all three girls at the news.
" A relapse?"
" Are you sure?"
" How?"
" I don't know, but it definitely happened. I'm going to need several pictures of you guys." Kai readied his camera.
" Yay! Tala will come back to us!" Aya cheered, not seeing Brooklyn's wince. He'd been standing there the whole time, his face blank.
Kai nodded and took a picture. He took about ten shots before he was satisfied.
" Great!" He showed a rare smile before striding off in search of Kirei.
" Isn't this wonderful, Brooklyn?" Aya squealed, clutching the front of the boy's shirt. Brooklyn bit his lip, his eyes shadowed.
" Yeah, yeah…it's great…" he said quietly. Aya didn't notice the tone of the autumn-haired boy, nor the darkness in his eyes.
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Nikita stared at the objects on his table, his jade eyes smouldering.
Glaring at the last picture, one of a grinning silver-haired girl, he scoffed, and shoved the entire stack on the floor.
He was not pleased. His experiment had glitched. Tala was having relapses. He growled; this was not acceptable! But his scientists had warned him, if there was anymore tinkering on Tala's mind, the boy could completely break.
So all he could do was prevent further damage. It was lucky he had intercepted these photos. His son's pathetic friends actually thought they could 'save' him. Nikita snorted, slamming his palm on his desk. These types of obstacles had to be removed!
A slow smile crept over his face. Yes…removed…that would be the only way…but how? Seven dead teens would certainly arouse suspicion. If he could make it look like an accident…with perhaps…
There was a bridge on the other side of town being repaired. If he could make it look like they were just a bunch of reckless kids on a adrenaline rush…It would be best if he had a witness though, a spy, if you will, who'd tell the police what happened, and pretend to be a 'survivor'…
Nikita tapped his fingers on the table, rubbing his chin with his other hand. So, it'd need to be someone close to them…Hiwatari and Kryznetkov were out of the question. Boranov…no. Boranov, Mitchell, Low and Karishnikova were all too loyal! Nikita hissed. Parker was most likely out of the running too. He glared at a random spot on his desk. In the old days, people had been easier to bribe. Nikita blamed the change on television.
He swivelled around, turning on his computer. He clicked on a special program he had made, and scrolled through a list of profiles. He had an extensive database on every single person he had ever crossed.
He paused at a photo of a white-haired man. Keishii Namasaki. It was a pity the man had died. He had been quite useful. Nikita shook his head, keying in 'deceased' on the computer. Moving on, he dismissed the kind-hearted Aira quickly, and contemplated his harsher brother.
Maybe Kireshii could be persuaded to lead the kids to the bridge, with the release of Aira in trade? Nikita's jade eyes narrowed in thought, studying the face of the critical young man carefully. Maybe…he shrugged, mentally taking note of the second Namasaki brother.
Nikita had almost reached the end of his long, long list when the phone rang. He turned, his eyebrows furrowed quizzically. Who had this number? He ran a list of contacts in his head, but none of them should've been calling now.
After a moment's hesitation, the Russian man picked up the telephone receiver.
" Hello?" His voice was smooth and relaxed, full of cultured opulence.
" This is Nikita Valkov?" An unfamiliar voice asked.
" Yes. And who is this?" Nikita leaned back in his leather chair, twirling the phone cord in his other hand.
" I am…someone who could be of assistance. With your son."
" My son? What do you know about him? Who are you?" Nikita sat up, his voice accusing.
" I am an ally."
" Your name?" Nikita pressed.
There was a pause, then the mysterious caller told him.
Nikita's brow furrowed, trying to recall a face. It wasn't long before his features smoothened. " I knew your grandfather! Bastian, am I right? Wonderful man." Nikita chuckled. " This is a pleasant development."
" I'm glad you think so."
" In fact, this is perfect timing." Nikita snapped his fingers. " I have an idea that requires your help."
" Really? I'm free whenever you are."
" Good. We'll talk about this face to face." Nikita hung up, a smirk on his face.
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Slim white fingers replaced the phone, a small click sounding as it settled in its receiver.
The hands reached for a small black book and a pen. Flipping to the proper page, they scribbled down a small note in neat, curvy letters.
Setting the objects down on the desk, the hands folded themselves.
It was truly in place now. There was no going back. The die was cast.
The figure bit their lip, their hands tightening. Was this really necessary? Had this been the only way? If they went through with this…it they did…
It would be giving in. It would be completely destroying what their father had done.
But…it also meant…the figure's eyes trailed over the photo of a very familiar person.
If they could have that, then everything would be worth it. If they could…
Clear, light eyes darkened, a hint of madness and desperation in their depths.
If they had that, nothing else mattered. They would do anything, anything for it.
The now dark eyes glinted. Anything…
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Eh...I hate myself. This is such a short chapter...and it took so long to post...-sob-
Well...Please Review!