Entanglement

A/N Any comments are always welcome!

Entanglement
Chapter I
My Black Heart
There's another world inside of me
That you may never see...

New York, USA
USA
21.00
January, 2005
They followed me like a constant shadow, just one step ahead. I tried to keep the speed limit on the highway, when I noticed the lack of a license plate on the black car in front of me. It did not have a maker’s symbol either. So they knew where I was going. Not like it was a secret, but some fake concealment would be nice. I would be much less paranoid. My mind could not help but automatically recall if I locked my apartment properly. I did not spend two sleepless months developing the perfect security system for them to break in just when I miss something out in the equation in a hurry.
They follow just to make sure I do not screw up. Maybe I should be thankful. It used to be worse. Now they appear only when I am around a lot of people. I wonder if I have a probation period, or is this stalking going to continue forever. I turned sharply at one of the exits, hoping against hope they will lose my trail. From there, it was a short drive to the car races.
As I neared the crowded back street, awareness crept into me like an infection. Crowded places make me uncomfortable and not because I don’t like socializing. As long as I don’t get too close to anybody, everything is going to be alright.
Retrieving the heavy rucksack from the back seat of my car, I walked to the closed garage door next to the bar. Two tall, black bodyguards stood there, trying to look intimidating. They were dressed in black suits which stretched ridiculously tight over their muscled bodies, and they stood tall enough to make any average-sized person feel small. Their fedora hats cast shadows on their wide faces, making one feel uncomfortable not knowing where to look.
“Name,” one demanded in a thick French accent and stepped forward. I automatically took a step back. “Severin Black,” I said, sticking to the procedure. They nodded, registering my name, and one of them slid a small card through the security panel on the garage door. The big, rusty metal door lifted slowly upwards with a grinding sound. The garage was made to accommodate a large range of cars and looked more like an exhibition centre.
He stood in the corner, by a small metal table, putting together a slick black Ju’teri 7.4. My eyes lingered on the elegant gun in his ring covered hands as he picked up a crimson silk cloth from the table and trailed it over the ridge of the gun, almost lovingly. I always wanted one of those, but they were hard to get these days. Any gun was hard to get, since the government made all fire arms illegal three years ago, and yet the only organization that gets full access to guns is the one my stalkers work for. Now, the only way one can get them is to make them.
“You are late,” he said, forcing me to meet his eyes.
“Sorry. Got side tracked,” I said, putting the heavy sack down on the small table.
“By them?” he asked, as he slipped the silver bullets into the gun carefully.
“Is that a rhetorical question?” I asked, with a smile.
“I guess it is,” he said, smiling back, which was a rarity.
His name was Lucca Reid, the same twenty years of age as me, and the son of a famous mafia boss. He changed his Italian surname to his mother’s French maiden name, Reid, when his dad died six years ago, hoping to escape being known as Donatello Sombrero’s son. Unfortunately, his face flashed a bit too often in the newspapers, and they always placed him next to his father. I guess he didn’t think much about that when his dad died, but then again, what does a ten year old kid think about before he pulls the trigger against his own parent...
We met with a bang. Literally. Two years ago, when I first moved to New York, I came to the car races. Unfortunately, some of the contestants decided to be funny, resulting in a massive car crash from which only me and Lucca got out alive. It was more than surreal, when I crawled out of the crumbled car to see him standing in the middle of the flames, cursing how his expensive clothes got ruined. When his eyes looked at me with surprise, I was shocked to see they were deep red, the same colour as his long hair billowing around his dark skinned face.
His presence seemed to edge the flames on, spreading them at an alarming rate around us. He walked towards me, and I wasn’t sure if I should pretend to be scared or confront him. I chose to play neutral and let him do the talking. The closer he came, the more I could feel the warmth, like being forced to stay under the sun’s burning heat for too long. Then a few steps closer and the fire dimmed. He stopped less than a few feet away. I could tell by the annoyance flickering across his face, that he knew, he couldn’t harm me.
“My name is Lucca Reid.” It was the first thing he said to me with a smirk grazing his beautiful features. “Nice to meet you.” I guess he decided to make the best of our meeting, considering how he couldn’t burn me alive.
We discovered we have a lot in common besides car racing. Gambling and hatred for the authority are just the beginning.
When he asked me for the first time what my power is, I told him that it’s better if he didn’t know. He didn’t push the subject after that, for which I was thankful.
At that time, I didn’t know if I should be happy that I’ve met someone, by chance, who is even remotely like me, or be afraid he might decide the game was up and leave. I quickly learned, as our friendship strengthened, that he is irreplaceable.
I was forced out of my own flashback by his hand waving in front of my face.
“Anybody in?” he asked. “You’ve been spacing out a lot lately. Any particular reason?”
“I can give you a hundred reasons,” I said, unzipping the sack on the table.
“I am sure they all start and end with the N.B.K”
“You know me too well,” I said, which earned me another smile.
“We can’t do business with them following your every step.”
“This is not business. We are about to race. It’s harmless fun,” I said, trying to sound innocent, but he frowned.
“Yes, but what you have in that bag is hardly harmless,” he said, pacing around the table like an agitated animal.
“It is harmless to us. Even if it blows up we will survive it,” I said, annoyance in my voice clearly evident.
“Would everybody else?” he asked, even though he knew the answer. “Don’t get me wrong, I don’t care if someone gets killed. Drawing attention is what concerns me. As you know the N.B.K are trailing me too.”
“I’m jealous. I used to be the centre of their attention, before you came along,” I said mockingly.
I carefully took out the new car engine from the sack. It was as big as my hand and heavy as hell. I observed the silver surface of the engine carefully; this sort of thing could get you at least twenty five years in prison. The chance of living after using it is always fifty-fifty. However, it’s a hundred percent chance for winning. I looked at the cars and walked to a red Alfa Romeo, which I knew it was his favourite. I opened the car’s front along with the mock up engine and fitted the small one underneath it.
“Maybe if you lay off killing people, they will give you a break,” I suggested. I didn’t have to look up to know he was glaring at me.
“I am not killing people. I am merely solving my problems. If it wasn’t for my power, the N.B.K would have killed me a long time ago,” he said, trying to sound like his problems were bigger than mine, which they probably were.
“Then you should consider yourself lucky.”
“Lucky. I think that is what I am going to name this car, if it doesn’t blow up.” He laughed as his hand caressed briefly the car’s smooth surface.
“Maybe you should think about where you are going to bury Lucky in the worst case scenario,” I joked, and he laughed again.
Ten minutes later, we lined up our cars at the start line; Lucca looked at me and said:
“I will see you on the finishing line.”
“In one piece, I hope,” I said, making him tap nervously at the steering wheel.
Only ten seconds left before the start, and as the crowd started counting down, I don’t know what possessed me to look at the car on my right. The figure I saw in that car made me forget all about the race. It was one of them. One of the N.B.K agents. His hair was dark blond and must have been very long, because I couldn’t see where it ended through the small car window.
He turned to look at me, and I realized I’ve seen him somewhere before, but I couldn’t remember where. The bronze skin emphasizing the emerald green eyes was too striking of an image to forget. They were small slits, but fierce, quickly flashing in anger from emerald green to lime green I must have stared a second too long, because I noticed the dark tattooed symbols around his eyes shift. I quickly turned my head away. Getting hypnotized was not an option right now.
I turned to my left to see if Lucca noticed him, but he was too busy looking in his review mirror at the car behind him. He wore the same expression as me. Great, it was more than one. They were planning something, and we didn’t have a backup plan.
As the crowd shouted “Go” and the air gun went off, I tried as best as I could not to turn the car around and race in the opposite direction. Stepping on the gas pedal, my heart should have skipped a beat from excitement, but it only did this on rare occasions.
Only three minutes into the race, the chaos started. Lucca and I were in the lead with the two agents right behind us. I didn’t have any other choice but to follow Lucca’s lead as we slipped against the ongoing traffic on the motorway. I glanced at my review mirror and saw the blond guy, signalling me to pull over. Behind him were about five police cars.
I shouldn’t have looked away, because the next thing I knew there was a loud screeching sound in front of me, and I saw Lucca’s small sports car crash head first into an oncoming truck- and that truck was big. The driver tried to stop, but in an instant he dragged Lucca’s car against a black jeep in front of him. The whole traffic lane stopped, and I ran over to him. I took the handle of the crumbled door and pulled it open.
Somehow he was still alive, but half his face was covered in blood and his right arm was sticking out at an odd angle.
He turned his head towards me with difficulty as I tried to drag him out of the car.
“That truck looked way smaller from where I was,” he said.
“Shut up. Don’t talk. It will be a miracle if we make it out of here alive,” I said, as I walked him as fast as he could go to my car. Sitting him on the passenger’s seat, I went over to get in the car when I looked around, realizing that the N.B.K should have got us by now. Then I saw that the police had surrounded them, probably thinking they were a bigger threat then us with their armoured cars. As they walked out of their cars at gunpoint, I saw they weren’t in uniforms and probably didn’t have their IDs; it was going to be tricky to get themselves out of this situation.
The bulb on one of the light posts shattered from a fired bullet, and then three more followed. Light was now scarce as I tried to make out what was happening. I somehow hoped to see them being thrown in the police cars and hurried off, only that would give me temporary peace, but I also wanted to get Lucca to the hospital quickly.
Suddenly, I noticed the silence. Even though every car had come to a halt, the people in them didn’t seem to move at all. They just stared ahead, like in a trance, hypnotised. I saw the driver of the truck that hit Lucca, gazing ahead as if completely focused on something only he could see. That was the agents’ only ability... hypnotism...and not all of them could do this at such wide range and most certainly cannot do it without looking directly into the person’s eyes. The only sounds now came from the police officers far ahead, and the sound of an occasional radio station, drifting eerily from an open window into the night. I narrowed my eyes hoping to see better pass the semi-darkness that obstructed them. The first thing I noticed was the shadowed figure walking forward until it reached a patch of light. I recognized him now. It was Ramesses Kaeli. I’ve seen him only in newspapers, but never in real life. He didn’t look anything like his newspaper mug shots. His presence alone could trigger one’s self preservation feeling to full force, and make anyone want to run as far away as possible. The media’s public accusations of the N.B.K remained the biggest news for months. They branded N.B.K’s agents as criminals. The media said that Kaeli was a terrorist and was responsible for multiple mass scale bombings in Egypt and America. The journalists managed to dig out evidence saying he was involved with a terrorist group four years ago. Many other agents were accused of similar criminal activities. I thought the best part of the whole scandal was the complete ignorance of the N.B.K, as if the accusation and the media’s blames did not really concern them.
He lifted his gun and pointed it at me. Even thought it was obvious he couldn’t get a clear shot, I didn’t think twice before jumping in the car and stepping on the gas pedal.
Looking briefly in the review mirror, I saw an officer cuffing Ramesses’s hands behind his back. The smirk on his face disturbed me, and for a good reason. The pain exploded in my chest so abruptly that I barely managed to hit the brakes.
“Oh my God,” I heard Lucca’s voice, sounding so far away. “What the hell...”
I tried not to look down because I didn’t want to see the black blood pouring from me.
I turned to Lucca, wanting to tell him that I was fine, but the terrified expression on his face robbed me of words. A sudden pulse racked my body as I was painfully aware of the bullet trying to exit through my chest. Losing consciousness was too easy at this point...
I was eleven years old and back in the surgery room where everything started. I felt dizzy and withdrawn, like I wasn’t really there, just looking at a scene through someone else’s eyes, but I knew they were mine. I could feel the cold metal of the surgical table underneath me. Just any minute now, my killer would come in. Just as I thought, the door opened and a man came in. He had a red coat on and silver scalpel in his hand. His face was young and hauntingly beautiful. His lips split into a cruel smile as the symbols around his eyes glowed and he said:
“Don’t be afraid. Soon you will have a brand new heart, just like you wanted.” He motioned to something on my right. A small glass table suddenly appeared, and on top of it was a big dinner plate with my future donor heart on it. It was black like ash. Dark blood leaked from it, and it overflowed the plate. The thick liquid slowly sliding down on the floor like it knew exactly where it was going. I felt it creep along my bare waist and chest and slide slow over my cheek. I felt the heavy weight of the thin trail forcing its way into my mouth. The fluid was tasteless and freezing cold. My body was paralysed, but my mind and soul were wide awake and screaming. The substance filling my mouth and lungs was nothing compared to the pain that ripped through my chest. I looked at the donor and saw something akin to tentacles extend from it, ripping into my chest. Wrapping around my frail human heart, they squeezed and pulled, ripping it away like it was nothing. My precious, crimson blood was everywhere- on the ceiling, on the floor, on the walls. I tried to scream, but no sound came out. It was frustrating not being able to voice my pain. I wish I could close my eyes, but I couldn’t even do that. The agony momentarily faded as I felt something big and cold nestle in the space where my heart used to be, trying to attach itself to the bloody arteries. It moved sluggishly around, trying to fit in, but there was too much of my blood pouring out and the space was too little. The tentacles were there again, ripping my chest open further, making the wound bigger. The heart seemed to have calmed down and attached successfully; I couldn’t feel it move anymore. It felt cold and heavy in my chest- unnatural. The more the black liquid poured into me the more of my own life giving blood I lost. I realized it wasn’t going to stop until it drained me and took over. I let tears blur my vision and hoped for everything to just go away.
And it did. The horrible vivid memory faded and the pain stopped. I was alone and someone was shaking me.
“Severin, Severin! Wake up, you bastard!” I heard Lucca’s strained voice.
“What in God’s name are you doing? Put that injection down,” an angry voice said.
Next thing I knew, there was a deep sting, and I once again was able to control my body’s actions. I opened my eyes slowly, and the first thing I noticed was the needle stuck in my chest.
“Adrenaline shot...like you said,” said Lucca. I turned to him and saw that he was still covered in blood.
“You shouldn’t get up yet,” said Kai, standing beside Lucca. He was another friend of ours.
He had his own tragic history, which he never told us, but which Lucca found out about accidently. He was twelve, when he left school, leaving three hundred kids suffocating to death from lack of air on the school grounds. It was the first manifestation of his power.
“Just lay on the bed for awhile and rest. Now you...” Kai said as he pushed Lucca, roughly into a chair next to my bed. “I’m tired of stitching you up.”
“I told you I am fine!” he growled.
“Hey, Snow White, time for the routine check in room five,” a nurse said in animated voice, barging in.
“Yeah, Snow White, go and do your routine check,” said Lucca, mocking him. Sometimes I wish I hadn’t introduced them to each other.
“You call me that one more time, and I am never talking to you again,” Kai said, irritated and left. He hated that nickname, but it suited him. He was albino. His skin was so white that if compared to the purest of snow, it would camouflage him perfectly. His hair was silvery white, falling in short curls around his face. His eyes were not the standard red colour for his condition, but instead were light grey, almost ashen.
“What the hell was that?” asked Lucca the moment the door was closed.
“Yeah, I was wondering the same thing. You are always mean to him,” I said.
“Not that! You and this blood!” he said, raising his voice.
“I’ve told you before; I don’t want to talk about it.”
“You are going to have to one day, because I don’t want to be in situations like this ever again.”
“I’ve told you enough! I make people ill when they are close to me. That’s all you need to know.”
“I am close to you,” he argued.
“Not close enough. I’ll make you a deal, when you are ready to talk about Kai, then I will tell you about what’s happening to me,” I offered.
“My relationship with him does not concern you,” he said through clenched teeth.
“Of course it concerns me! I was the one who introduced you to him. It’s my fault that he is miserable.”
“He is miserable because he chose to be with me. I didn’t...” he trailed as the door opened, and Kai walked back into the room. I could almost certainly tell he overheard our conversation as he completely ignored Lucca and looked at me.
“Oasis called. He told me to tell you, ‘I told you so,’ and that he is waiting for details,” he said in a monotone voice and turned to Lucca.
“You go to room five, there is a nurse waiting there to deal with your head injury, because I don’t feel like it at the moment.” Yes, he definitely heard our conversation.
“Severin, if you are completely sure that you are well, you can leave as well. I will see you tomorrow at college,” he said with a forced smile and left.
“You know, I bet my life, those agents are having the time of their life, unlike us,” I said, trying to lighten the mood.
“What? In the police station?” he asked.
“Oh yeah.”
NY Police Station
“I am in Heaven. Thank you mother!” said Deon, putting his hands together in a prayer.
“In you go, boys,” said a police officer as he opened a cell door. “You wait here until we have time to deal with you. Better prepare for a nice night in.” He laughed as he tried to shut the door closed.
“We have the right for a phone call each, I would like mine now,” said Azira.
“Well, aren’t you pushy? This way, Blondie. Your friend stays in here, though.” Azira turned to Deon and hissed:
“Don’t do anything stupid.”
“I’ll try my best not to,” he answered with a maniac smile. Walking those extra meters away from Deon was psychologically painful. He took the phone and dialled the familiar number.
“Hello. We are in a little bit of a situation. We would appreciate it if you come down to the state police station and get us out.”
“Oh my God, what did you do and why didn’t you have your IDs? You know if you had them, you wouldn’t be in this situation.”
“Well...we were under cover. The police think we are some street kids at the local races.”
“I hope you haven’t told them your real names.”
“No, but you better hurry, I can hear our...colleague from here, having fun,” he said, as he heard shouting from the cell.
“I am on my way.”
“Please don’t tell... her about this.”
“She already knows,” the other voice said as the phone line went dead.