Chapter one

Lawrence

I awoke before dawn, my eyes popping open like the cork being pulled from a champagne bottle. Today was the long awaited day that I had hoped would come sooner. But now that it finally had, I was ready. I turned over on my mattress with a wide smile, only to be met with a carbon copy of my own smile a mere twenty centimeters from me. My brother Michael had waken up at the same moment I did and almost assuredly had similar if not the exact same thought. It was moving day!

"Lawrence?" "Michael?" We said each other's names at the same time with the same implied question in our voices. We were both ready. Our furniture had been shipped, our personal effects were stored away in boxes ready to be delivered, the next week's worth of; clothing, hygiene products, books, and other sorted paraphernalia was packed away in our suit cases. The only things left to do were to take a quick shower, and to wake up dad. No time for a proper bath but today isn't the day to be relaxing and wasting time anyway. With no kitchen to speak of breakfast would have to be taken on the road as we headed to the train station. In unison we both bounded off of our mattress, the only piece of furniture left in our room, and grabbed our phones from the shared wireless charger. Upon silencing our upcoming alarm, which we had beaten by almost ten minutes, we headed into the washroom to freshen up for the day ahead.

Michael and I, if it wasn't obvious by now, are identical twins. So I suppose I really only need to describe one of us for it to get the point across. But I will continue to use we in the descriptions... it only feels natural that way after all. We are, from what we can gather based on the genetic testing, almost entirely of British descent. There is of course the usual smattering of Irish, Scottish, Welsh and Scandinavian bloodlines mixed in due to the long history of our country... But the disconcerting inclusion of Sicilian within our ancestry left us more than a bit unsettled. Clearly one of our ancestors was either not too concerned on where he spread his seed... or more likely... she was a whore. Not that I find distaste in that line of work, if it puts food on the table and all that. But of all the potential fathers, or mothers, it had to be a Sicilian?

Anyway, our physical description. That is where it gets complicated. The reason we had received genetic testing is because of how we look. We suffer something that doctors have apparently never seen before. A type of melanin disorder similar to that of Vitiligo... but with nearly the opposite effect. Patches of our skin, both large and small, have become nearly charcoal black over time. Thankfully none have yet affected our facial features, which I'm grateful for, but we have found a patch that has began to grow at the back of our heads. Apparently we either have another pigmentation disorder or the one from ealier effects our hair very oddly. The roots of our hair is as black as hair can be... but once it grows longer than roughly 4 centimeters, it's like the printer runs out of ink, so to speak. Somehow after a certain length our hair's naturally insane darkness looses its ability to maintain itself and it falls away into snow white locks. And that goes for all of our hair not just the stuff atop our scalp. The most normal part about our features are the pale grey of our eyes. But in combination with our other features it ends up appearing as if we went out of our way to bleach our hair and to wear color contacts. Which we haven't. It has lead to us being quite isolated from other kids in our age group. Having to hear about our professional hair dye job thousands of times a school year does that to a kid.

Another thing that has lead to our isolation is fact that we are so alike and so in sync with each other, that even the exaggerated examples of twins found in movies can't compare. We don't just complete each other's sentences sometimes. We know what the other is thinking because we are just that close. We sometimes go out of our way to mess with people and claim that we are actually psychically linked. It's not like we can actually read each other's mind however. We just know what we ourselves are thinking and chances are pretty high that it's the same thing the other is thinking. Incredibly alike, incredibly in sync. But that's not to say we don't end up miscommunicating on occasion. The moments where we are not in sync are usually the moments that either, A; end in hilarity, or b; end in catastrophe. Arguments, emotional breakdowns, crying, yelling. Its not something we enjoy so we try to avoid it whenever possible. We much prefer those moments when we are comfortable in each other's presence.

How comfortable? Well when I say that we are comfortable enough to shower together despite being a week away from 15 years of age... I am not joking. That comfortable. Honestly I worry for the day we're finally adults and have to go our separate ways. Who is going to scrub my back and make sure I didn't miss a spot?! Can I get a back scrubber like a normal person? Yes, but that's not the point! The point is I cannot put a mirror in the shower! It'll just fog up and be impossible to see anything. It was actually those kinds of thoughts that were running through my head as we washed up. How could we plan out our future so we can A; stay together until the day we die, and B; minimize the number of hoops we needed to jump through just to achieve point A.

"Hey Michael?" I asked while in the middle of rinsing the shampoo from my hair. He of course was in the process of applying said shampoo to his own hair. Despite that he still answered me with a nonplused look and not so gently shot my idea down.

"No. Most other identical twins still retain enough individuality that they wouldn't appreciate what you're thinking. They don't care how optimized it would be for our lives. They would find your proposition insulting to their sensibilities as an individual at best, and incredibly creepy at worst." I clicked my tongue and cursed. There goes my idea to marry a set of identical twin girls. Here I thought I had come up with an excellent idea to avoid jealousy and confusion in our future romantic endeavors.

"That's so inefficient though. Other people who marry twins have to worry about accidentally kissing or worse, sleeping with the wrong twin. But if we married a set of twins it wouldn't matter. We're also twins! We've shared everything since the beginning. So there wouldn't be any hard feelings if we accidentally got the wrong wife pregnant. Well at least from our perspective." He sighed and I could tell he was rolling his eyes even if I wasn't looking at him to confirm.

"I agree it would be efficient. But don't forget that we're freaks. Most twins eventually strive to differentiate themselves from each other. But we've never cared about individuality when it came to the two of us. If anything we lament every time we discover something about ourselves that is different between us. But on a more serious note, I'm still trying to figure out a career path that we both will find enjoyable enough and that will allow us to remain together. And no, twin OurTube creators isn't niche enough for us to corner the market and guarantee success. So a real job will have to be in the cards." In response to his words I sighed and rubbed my face with both hands before beginning the process of scrubbing his back.

"What about private detectives? We're smart and have uncanny levels of attention to detail. I think we could hack it. I can picture it now, a dusty corner office with an aged glass window. Upon it in gold leaf lettering it says, Erikson and Erikson, private investigators." He thought for a moment before he sighed and shrugged.

"Possible, but usually detective partners are very different people from each other. That way they don't think alike and can cover more avenues of inquiry. We think almost entirely alike and that could be our downfall. But if it comes to a shootout or a brawl we have the advantage. This is because we almost always know each other's next move and so our coordination would be seen as almost otherworldly. I suppose we'll put that in the maybe category." I sighed as we once again were grasping at straws and coming up blank for ideas. We've done this song and dance maybe dozens of times now, it's been so many, that I've honestly lost track. It was then I remembered something that had cropped up in my web searches while I was looking at the city we were moving to.

"What about-" "No." He shot me down instantly. I was used to that, some ideas were dumb. But I couldn't picture why he did so. This was a surprise to me. A bead of cold sweat ran down my back. So I continued to press my case.

"But-" "Brother I said no." He just shot me down again, but I couldn't understand the reasoning behind his thoughts. This was one of those exceedingly rare times where I couldn't understand what he was thinking. We were out of sync. How did this happen and so suddenly? So I waited. He would explain himself.

But he didn't. He just continued to wash and rinse his hair. I swallowed the lump that was beginning to grow in my throat. Breathe Lawrence, don't let it get to you. I took in a breath and calmed my racing mind and on edge nerves. I needed to know his thoughts, I needed to know why he shot down my idea. So. I asked him.

"Why?" He sighed at my question and after a few moments he shut the water off. He remained facing away from me, not daring to look into my questioning gaze. Finally he lowered his head as he took in a steadying breath.

"Because being a superhero is dangerous, doesn't pay the bills, and is a wholly superfluous act taken on by those who either have a true calling for it... or are so far up their own ass that they need the validation of an entire city's worth of people just to love themselves. We don't have that calling, nor are we that egotistical. Besides we hire police for a reason. Vigilante justice is for comic books and television. Not real life." I sighed and leaned back on my heels as he spoke. I mean he was right but...

"I just thought it would be fun... if I knew you'd be so against it..." He turned around and pulled me into a tight hug. I was yet again surprised but I didn't resist. He was my brother, my twin. Something about my suggestion rubbed him in a very bad way and so I had to assuage his fears. So I hugged him back. My arms circled his tightly and my chin rested on his shoulder. I felt his heartbeat, his breathing, the very flow of his lifeblood through the vein in his neck against which my ear was pressed.

"You're terrified Michael... why? It's no more dangerous than police work or that of a fireman and you've put both in the maybe category. What is it about the prospect of being a superhero that has scared you so?" He continued to hold onto me for another minute before he pulled back and cupped my face with his hands. His pale grey eyes looked into my matching ones as he let out a slow breath.

"I don't know. Call it an instinct, a hunch, a dream or a dark premonition of the future... I just... the moment you asked me, I felt a chill run through my soul. It was a terrible feeling that if we go down that road... we'll be torn from each other's side. Like if we both become heroes... we'll discover we have very different ideas about justice and become enemies." As I listened to his woes I couldn't help but to frown. This was serious. I pushed his hands off of my cheeks and held him at arm's length. His eyes no longer could look into my own and became downcast. His fear wasn't unfounded. We did sometimes have disputes and disagreed on things, even very big things. However we never allowed it to tear us apart. We would work through anything and everything that treatens our unity.

I just had to make him see that. So I took a step forward. Then another. Then a third, all the while pushing him until his back pressed against the wall. He looked up for a moment, his eyes wide but he really looked at me when I slammed my hands onto the tile wall behind him. He tried to look away but I grabbed him by the chin and took one final step closer until I was pressed against his chest. I was looking into his eyes, and he couldn't look away.

"Nothing will ever tear us apart Michael. Nothing! Come Hell or high water, nothing will ever come between us. I would see the world burn asunder and the people in it lost to the flames before I let you go. And you know why that is brother?" I could see the fear in his eyes disappearing slowly as a smile broke across his lips. He and I had a motto that we lived by. A short phrase that we say or think whenever we need to center ourselves. A pillar of our life that gives us a landmark so we may never become truly lost.

"You are my heart, my love, and my other half. No one comes before you, because to do so would be placing a stranger before myself. Because you are my brother and we are one." We remained like that for a few moments more before he pushed me back with a large smile and a laugh. We of course had to finish up here before we woke up our father, and this conversation had eaten up more time than we had planned.

"Did you have to push me into the wall like that? Naked shower hugs were gay enough. That was record breaking levels of gay, bordering on homoerotic." I smiled a cheeky smile and I slapped his ass as he got out.

"What's wrong with a bit of homoeroticism between twins? Where we are moving, the girls devour that stuff up like candy! We'll have them eating out of our hands in mere minutes! We will have the pick of the proverbial litter brother! Picture it now! Come winter and we'll have the belles of the ball upon our arms and all the other boys will want us dead!" Michael of course smirked and as he dressed threw, one final quip my way.

"No... I think you're just gay."

Michael

We finally made it onto the train and we excitedly walked down the aisle towards our seats. The ride would be about two and a half hours long. But that wasn't a problem for we had downloaded the entire first season of the cartoon we had been meaning to watch. However as we arrived we both realized that there was one decision left to be made between us. Who gets the window seat? We both stopped in the aisle and turned to face the other. Our eyes locked, our hands were down by our sides like American old west gunslingers. We both tapped our left foot in unison three times as a countdown. Upon the final stroke we extended our hands before ourselves. It was a battle as old as our very country, maybe even older. Scissors, paper, stone. However unlike other people who have to actually throw their hand into the shape they desired. We just stared into each other's eyes and knew what the other had thrown. And thus the victor.

In that short window of time we had played three games. The first was a draw, we both had played paper. The second was a win by him, and he threw stone to my scissors. The final round I had thrown paper again in hopes to throw him off. But no he had thrown scissors... and I lost. Now he would receive the window seat. Triumphant he raised his hands into the air and laughed his exuberance before turning to take his prize. Only to find that during the time of our mental battle our father, Nathaniel Erikson, had stolen it!

"Hey! Father! That's not fair! We fought scissors, paper, stone for the window seat! It was a fair match and I won!" My brother was devastated by the turn of events. He by all rights had won, and we had played fairly. What our father had done was cruel and unusual, it flew in the very face of justice. Our father however, smiled his signature wicked smile and said those two dreaded words that we could do nothing to argue against.

"Dad tax." My brother groaned in frustration and I merely sighed. He was right to claim the seat, he payed for the train tickets just like how he pays for everything else in our lives. If he wants the window seat then we have no right to argue or fuss. It was frustrating but father only ever utilizes the "dad tax" when it would achieve maximum effectiveness in irritation. As I had already laid out, It was only fair. The amount of things we destroyed when we were small tots was staggering, so a bit of payback was warranted. I smiled and put a hand upon the shoulder of my brother. His disappointment was slowly vanishing as he too came to the same conclusion as I had. But the sting of victory having been cruelly ripped from him wasn't something so easily shrugged off.

"You're a bastard, father! Come along Lawrence, let's go see if there is a food trolley. Snacks always make you feel better. That way father can't take his "taxes" if we eat our spoils three cars over." That had gotten Lawrence to cheer up considerably, and it spoiled a portion of father's victory. So I count it as an absolute win all around.

It took us maybe ten minutes to find the food trolley. Apparently it had been stopped a few cars ahead of ours. The reason it was stopped for so long was because this whole car had been reserved for some school trip by a school from Paris. At least that was what we had gathered by the matching school lanyards, and IDs. We could wait for the trolley to come to a different car and not intrude... or we could play a little game of sheep's clothing. It was easy enough in this instance, the students all looked to be our own age bracket anyway. So if we play our cards right we might even walk away with free food, courtesy of their school's budget.

We looked around and found a jacket clearly left behind by a teacher. Sticking out of its pocket were spare lanyards complete with clear plastic ID holders. It was almost as if we were meant to be here. Quickly we sat down and fished out our wallets. It took us only a few seconds to slip our own IDs into the card holders and throw the lanyards about our necks. Now it was just a matter of acting natural.

"Something from the trolley, loves?" The trolley lady was a cheerful woman of about early fifties and with a few extra kilos making her look simply matronly. We both looked at each other and in our best French accented English we spoke.

"Oui madame. Two scones with butter and strawberry jam." She smiled as she began fishing out the requested foodstuffs.

"Of course, and something to drink? Tea? Fizzy drinks? Fruit juice?" We looked at each other and then both nodded.

"Tea please, madame. With milk and one sugar?" Again we spoke in unison and again we were greeted with a smile from the older woman. It took but a minute to get our requested treats and another minute after that for us to get our cups of tea. Milk and sugar was placed upon the tray table we had folded out. All in all a successful mission thus far. If we just kept cool we could finish our snack and be gone before anyone noticed.

That was until about half way through our tea and one scone down each. One of the students stood up and made their way back towards us. They were headed for the toilet. We both saw them first and both acted natural. We both busied ourselves by looking out the window casually while munching away. We were meant to be here. Pay us no mind. And it worked. That was until another kid, some rowdy sport loving individual with styled up hair called out to the one passing us.

"Hey max! Go long buddy!" The small dark skinned boy whipped around in time to see the small rubber ball about to be tossed his way.

"Kim! Wait! I'm not ready for sports! There is a 68.44 percent chance I'll not catch the ball!" But it was too late. The ball was already sailing through the air towards the boy. We both watched as he threw up his hands in a desperate bid to fend off the flying object. We both knew he wouldn't catch it. And judging by the angle, it would hit him right in the face. Poor kid had glasses too. A shiver ran down my spine as I felt a shift in Lawrence. He was coiled like a spring ready to launch.

And oh how he launched. In mere milliseconds he sprang to action. His legs propelled him into a stand in a small bound, his arm extended like a whip, and his hand like a many legged insect pouncing upon its prey. He snatched the ball from the air in one, smooth, clean, efficient movement.

"Gotcha, you little bugger! Think ya could make it passed me? Not on your life! Oi, you okay bruv? Took a small tumble ye did. Here ya go, upsie-daisy! OI! You heard the man! Why'd ya go and throw shit at his head? That ain't nice, now innit? You looking for a tussle?" I sighed as I clapped my hand to my face. My brother and I both normally have very proper English when we speak. But the moment we get excited, and I mean proper excited. Child at a theme park excited, or moments before a brawl excited... we both... well... we become a bit more of a chav.

"Whoa sorry! I didn't think he wasn't going to get hit by it! Max, you okay man?" The sporty one said in a manner that told me he genuinely wasn't trying to be an ass. He just genuinely seemed to thing the clearly athletically challenged nerd would have been able to catch it. The kid Max would have answered if he didn't get a look on his face and then ran to the toilet. Clearly in all the excitement he nearly forgot about his screaming bladder. My brother might have been able to get away with it. Might have been able to sit down and go back to eating his food and drinking his tea... if a dark skinned girl with a rather prominent mole on her forehead didn't squint and then speak up.

"Hold on, you're not a part of our class. Who are you?" My brother's face went even paler than it normally is and he smiled an uncomfortable, nervous smile. With a chuckle and a hand raised to the back of his head he spoke.

"Oh uh me? Well you see... I... well... gotta go! BROTHER RUN!" He bolted. He had an expression of fear as he ran as fast as his legs could carry him. And I, who was of course one step behind him, was laughing like there was no tomorrow. So what if we got into trouble now and had to pay for what we got from the trolley. So what if we were made to apologize. Paris was a big place, chances are we'd never see those kids again. It was worth it.

As it would inevitably turn out... I was completely wrong.