Chapter 5:

"Ma, I got a job- a decent job! And I start in two days."
21 year-old Nathan Tester could hardly keep his excitement as he told his mother what happened awhile ago at his 53rd job interview.
"You got a job...as a janitor?" the woman said with a raised eyebrow, wondering why she doesn't seem surprised anymore. "At that rusty old warehouse? The one off town?"
"I know it's not medicine or anything but..." Nathan paused as he took his grey cap off, holding it tightly in his hands, "I tried my best ma, I just want you to be proud. Maybe one day, I won't be a janitor, maybe I will become a lawyer."
"You're terrible at law," the woman laughed and got off her seat, placing her hands gently on her son's shoulders, "but I am proud of you Nathan..."
The young man smiled and looked down at his hands, fondling the cap with care. Then, he shifted his gaze back to his mother.
"Do you think...dad is proud?" he quietly whispered.

Without hesitation, she smiled and nodded, lifting her hand to cup her son's cheek. "I know he is..."
They embraced each other, and despite his good relationship with his mother, Nathan never showed such emotion around other people. He suddenly becomes another person depending on whomever he is with.
Nearly all of his brothers have decent professions: doctors, artists, musicians...he was the first to have a lowly job as a janitor. Does that make him less of a son in his ma's eyes? He hopes not...even when he'll move away, he didn't want her to forget about him. Speaking of which-
How will I tell her?
The young man cleared his throat. "Um...ma, about that job," he began rather awkwardly, running his palm up and down his nape as he spoke, "since it's rather far, I kinda have to stay some place else now... I have to, well, move away."
The woman looked at him as she froze on the spot. "How long will you be gone?" she asked sadly.
He looked down onto his feet. "I could only come back during the holidays, ma...this will be like the college I've never been on."
She bit her lip a little and sighed. "Will you be alright?" she asked, "you'll be far from home."
Nathan chuckled and put his cap back on. "Ma, I'll be fine!" he declared, "I'll give ya the first salary I get."
"I don't care about the salary Nathan," the woman replied, "what if you get hurt on duty?"
"Ma, you see this, you see that?" the Bostonian teased, flexing his arms to show the muscles that were barely there. "If somebody try ta mess with this, I'll bonk them so hard their grandparents will feel it."
"Just bonk them, honey." the woman laughed and embraced him. "Looks like I will be alone without my baby boy again..."
"Maybe for now ma," said Nathan and hugged her back, rather embarrassed that his mother still called him her baby boy, "but once I saved enough cash," he continued, "I'll move you out of this place, go somewhere near that warehouse and we can live together...you'll never be lonely again."
"I love you, sweetheart." the woman sighed.
"I love ya too, ma." he replied and hugged his mother tight.

Two days passed and Nathan stepped out of the house with a black sling bag containing all his necessities, and of course, his precious black-grey cap. A rickety and rusty vehicle spewed out black smoke as it noisily waited for its passenger outside Nathan's gate.
"Nathan!" his mother called out and ran to him. She looked up into his eyes as he looked in hers.
"Be safe, honey."
The young man nodded. "I will, ma."
With one last hug, and the loud honk of an impatient transportation, Nathan was off. Once he found his seat, the Bostonian hurriedly looked out of the open window and waved his mother goodbye, who slowly disappeared until she was completely out of sight.

The trip took over two hours, and in between naps, the lad would entertain himself with music, the scenery or tapping his feet. This whole traveling thing wasn't much of his thing, and he couldn't stand it when he'd have to sit still for a long time; he loves to run, and his feet would constantly itch just to sprint out there and wherever they would take him, he'd still be home.
But it didn't seem like that this time. As the vehicle stopped, Nathan quickly got off and stretched his sore legs, kicking them and sending little bits of dust into the air. A shadow emerged from behind and as the lad turned, he found a short, stout man in a suit holding a cane looking straight at him.

This must be his new boss. He gave Nathan a faint smile and told the new recruit to work the night shift in place of a guard who he just fired three days ago for unknown reasons.
"And clean the stocks while you're at it." he added coarsely and left, creating a rhythm as the base of the cane hit the ground, the shallow beat echoing throughout the dark and dusty room. It made Nathan realize that things will be different now. The music of home slowly drifted away as the music of confusion overpowered it.
Somewhere, sixty one kilometers away, Sniper drove his van as he grumbled to himself, nudging the bubblehead in front of him with his finger from time to time.
"Blimey, Soldier just had to forget the supplies," he grunted and turned to his side, "thanks for comin' with me mate."
Beside him, Spy smiled faintly and nodded in acknowledgement, looking out to the scenery once more. "What did he forget?"
"Just some wires for Engie." the Aussie replied, keeping his eyes on the road. "I heard there's a warehouse nearby...we'll be there by nightfall."
Spy took a cigarette stick out and lit the tip before putting the other end in lips. "I haven't been out of zhe base in a long while...besides missions, of course." the mercenary added out of the blue and puffed out a thin line of smoke.
Judging from the expression on the shape shifter's face and eyes, Sniper could easily tell that Spy still held the painful memories of Adam's loss, and dwelled in the fact that his other son may never know him as his father.

"Spy...ya still thinkin' about Nathan?" Sniper softly asked.
The other sighed. "There wasn't one day when I wouldn't think about my boys," he confessed quietly, "I would give anything just so I could look at him, and bring Adam back. He isn't dead. I was never a believer of that backstabbing scumbag, and I have no plans of being one."
Everything became quiet once more, and as the sun quickly set on the horizon, Sniper knew they were nearing their destination.
A rickety old warehouse in the middle of nowhere.

"This is killing me...of boredom." Nathan mused as he lazily paced the perimeter of the warehouse complex and come back on his post. Just like his boss ordered, he cleaned the stocks and placed them in their respective places. His only consolation is knowing that he will get paid for doing this crap. And he will help out his ma, then he will go places and on one of his trips, maybe he'll find his-
Nathan paused. His hand quickly clutched his cap and he looked at it endearingly. This cap has been with him for eleven years and he first wore it in the hospital; the one he went to after being crushed by heaps of metal and rubber in the junk yard. On top of the table beside him, he found a brightly-colored box and inside it was the cap.
"Ma, did you buy this?" he asked as he first held it in the light.
In response, the woman shook her head gently. "It's from daddy." she said with a smile, and from then on, the boy never stopped wearing the cap and never lost hope that his father is out there somewhere.
Even now.

"What's that?" the young man thought to himself and scouted the place until the strange noise was close by. Then, just as he turned a corner, it stopped. Following it was the voice of an Australian, and just like the sound of the engine, it disappeared in a snap, not even a whisper was heard afterwards.
Another turn and the Bostonian saw a van parked right in front of the main warehouse complex.
"Must be one of the workers..." Nathan mused and shrugged it off deciding to go back to his cleaning when a pile of paint cans caught his eyes.
"These should be in the building," he said with a perplexed face, "the others probably forgot."
Bending from his waist, Nathan lifted the pile and stacked them once more into the van that he just saw, which back side has been swung open, making the young man conclude that the workers came back to deliver more supplies for whatever company they're working for- and that those paint cans must be one of those supplies.
When the last can has been put in place, he drew out a breath and prepared to go out when darkness suddenly enveloped his vision and the loud noise of metal slamming against metal filled his ears. He started screaming.
"Hey! What the he-"
But a sudden acceleration silenced him, and he slipped as his feet were off the floor. Nathan felt as if he was teleported all the way back of some vortex, and his head collided with something hard.
And he fell into even greater darkness, and his world went pitch black.

Nathan groaned softly as he lazily opened his eyes and realized that he can't move; his muscles ached, his head still throbbed from the impact and his memory could only show him so much. His head turned from side to side as much as his sore neck would let him and the young man couldn't fathom where in the world this dimly lit black room could be. Above him, a single light bulb shone, and he soon realized why a strange sound is heard everytime he tried to move.
He was bound up in chains.
"Hey!" he yelled as loud as he could, "where the hell am I?!"
No response.
He opened his mouth to scream once more when what felt like a hand placed itself in front of him and muffled the noise.
"We can do this the hard or the easy way, mate." a familiar voice came. "Ya tell us everything we want to hear and we'll let ya go..."
"Who the fuck are you?!" Nathan demanded, eyes shining in terror as the hand suddenly moved its way down on his throat.
"Ya don't need to know, mate," the man continued coldly, "now tell us why you were at the back of my van."
"I-I didn't know it was your van!" the Bostonian quickly replied, "I thought it belonged to one of the workers."
"New on the job, ain't ya?" the voice chuckled, "what's your name?"
Nathan knew he couldn't answer that. He shouldn't answer that. What if they'll hunt him down and place his family in danger? Who knows what kind of man is talking to him right now: a psycho, a whacko, a maniac, someone on weeds-
"I ain't telling you shit!" the young man fired back, "I told ya everythin' I know so shut it and let me go dammit!"

"You shouldn't talk like that to your elders, boy."
That voice was new. Nathan knew it wasn't the same man talking anymore. The accent was different, and he suddenly smelled the familiar odor found on streets.
Cigarettes. Nathan thought and as his eyes shifted in front of him, he saw a tall, skinny man step into the light just in front of him. He wore a red mask, dark suit and pants of the same shade and had that cigarette stick between his fingers.
"Now tell us again, boy," he repeated, "what is your name?"
"What are you goin' to do to me?"
"Nothing at all..." assured the man nonchalantly, "we just need to make sure you don't come back here ever again."
"Are ya planning on killin' me?" he asked defiantly as he made a face.
The man drew a patient sigh. "I told you- we won't harm you."
The Bostonian bit his lip and closed his eyes shut. He has to tell them, it's the only way out.
"It's Nathan," he said quietly, "Nathan Tester."

Spy's cigarette dropped itself onto the hard floor, where its flame died away in a matter of seconds. Everybody in the room, including those hidden in the shadows, froze on their spots. Engie's mouth was slightly open in shock, and Medic was trying very hard to keep the emotions on his face.
"I gave you my name," the young man added, "now let me go."
"Get him out of here." the Frenchman ordered instantly, his voice stone cold.
"But Spy-"
"Just." the man lifted his hand, "Just get him out of the base. He doesn't belong here."
Spy turned a heel and strode out of the room, getting another stick and lighting its tip with a flick of his lighter. The others turned to the lad and Nathan awkwardly fiddled with his fingers.
"I don't like him." he whispered and eyed all of the members. "So what are ya all here? One here's a construction worker, one's a guy..."
He looked at Medic suspiciously. "...covered in blood; I'm hopin' I'm wrong."
"It don't matter," said Sniper as he released Nathan from his chain bonds, "I'll return ya back ta the place I found ya."
"You mean the place where you stole things?" Nathan accused.
"They weren't stolen," explained the bushman, "they were thrown spare parts that your company clearly won't use anymore. Now get out and wait for me in the van."
The Bostonian heed his order and went out of the building with the help of the "construction worker" who he then knew as Engineer.

As he waited for his driver to come by, Nathan turned his head to the left and saw the same masked man coming his way. His first impression on him hasn't been good, what could he possibly want now with him?
"Nathan..." Spy said as he stood five feet away from the lad, "the bushman lost his keys, and so I will drive you back."
"Drive me back?" Nathan asked scornfully as his brows knitted together in anger, "the only thing I'll be gettin' when I return is a pink slip, my boss is gonna fire me!"
Spy saw how affected the young man was and he cleared his throat to catch the boy's attention.
"We'll just have to get you a new job-"
"You don't understand nothin' alright?" Nathan interrupted, "it ain't gonna be that easy, that was my 53rd job interview...and the only chance I could make my ma proud."
Looking up, Nathan saw Spy fish his car keys out. "Come, we'll get you a new job."
And in three minutes, the young man was on his feet and into the Frenchman's car where the two of them drove off to who knows where.

The day was young and they tried different places: diners, park managements, stores, everything that required labor- you name it. But their efforts ended in vain, and nightfall came, and still nothing.
The two sat down on a bench under the star spangled night sky and just let all the bad vibes out.
"Nathan...looks like there is nothing else we can do." Spy said nonchalantly.
"I need that job," Nathan sighed pensively, "I need that money."
"How much do you need?" asked the mercenary and slowly let his hand creep into the pocket in his coat.
"I don't know..." the young man sighed, defeated. "as much as it needs for me to find my dad."
Spy froze and his eyes moistened as he bit his lip. "How long have you been looking for him?"
"All my life." Nathan replied quietly and held his cap in his hands once more, "I know nothin' about him, and this right here is the only thing he has given me."
Spy kept a nonchalant face on, but deep inside, he felt the heat of guilt overpower him as Nathan, who at the time is breaking from fatigue and emotional pressure, began to talk nonstop.
"My ma is just helpless against everybody against us, and there have been times when she'd just cry herself to sleep," the Bostonian whispered angrily, nearly in tears, "I gave everything to find my dad, I need to show him what I achieved and tell him that I don't need him anymore. Me and ma will start all over again, and this time, we'll be fine on our own."
There was a long silence, a silent that sent chills on both their spines.
"But why do you keep the cap?" Spy softly asked, his heart pierced at the rejection of his own son.
"That ain't your business," the lad said meanly and stood up, "I need to go home."
The mercenary nodded. "It's late. I'll drive you home."
"It's far from here," Nathan said, "I'll just go back to the warehouse."
"Let's go then," Spy said and turned his engine on.
The trip was quiet. Not much came out of Nathan, not a single word was uttered out until they reached their destination an hour later.
"Nathan, we're he-"

Spy looked down and saw his son leaning against his shoulder, fast asleep, mouth slightly hung open. He looked pale and exhausted. The mercenary thought of waking him up...but he couldn't.
Nathan was tired, and he looked perfectly comfortable, it would be rude to wake him up. But what about him? How will he go back to base?
Spy looked at Nathan and adjusted something beside his seat. Slowly, the back of the lad's seat slid down until it was perfectly flat. After that, Spy adjusted his own and his seat did the same as the other. In no time, the two lay on their backs, faces to the roof.
"Bonsoir fils." Spy whispered and turned the car lights off