Okay it's ready, though on Sunday I'm leaving for two weeks. Any questions before will be answered. This one is a lot longer I have to say, and has quite a lot of action, and events happening. Overall, ENJOY!
It all started when I was seven years old, and in just a matter of minutes I would be eight. My mom, Maria Newman and I where waiting for my father Jonathon Newman to arrive with my presents and the birthday cake. I was a very naive little kid, unsure how dangerous the world could be to him. My father was always busy, because he was the C.E- wait former C.E.O of … Nexus Corp.
"Mother when is father arriving, I'm turning eight very soon?" I asked my eyes creating a twinkling ice white to figure out the answer. The room filled up with the light from the sunset. I was an only child, and we lived in the most luxurious condominium in all of Nexus City and I thought I was the happiest little child in the world. I looked up to see my mother respond, her light brown hair being illuminated by the sunset, as her eyes pondered and went to look at me and was going to open her mouth, when the door opened to reveal a tall midnight shaven thirty-four year old man. Whom I best knew as my father. He was wearing a blue trench coat with denim jeans, his green eyes wondered until they reached mine. The man gave a small smile revealing his pearl white teeth.
"Sorry I'm late; I forgot the 8-digit pass code to my SkyCrane so it took a lot of time to have it register onto Interface program. But anyways, I heard my little tiger is turning eight, isn't that right?" He wondered, taking off his trench coat and placing it against the wall where automatically a coat hanger came out of the wall with a small blue light surrounding it. He walked over to me and rubbed his hand over my hair and smiling, as I looked up to see his tree bark coloured eyes.
"You see," he continued gazing into the window where the sunset took place, creating a blank expression on his face, and then there was a pause. His mouth dropped slightly and my mother and I found him lost in his thoughts. He blinked a couple of times; his gaze went back to me and smiled, though without showing any teeth.
"You see, when I was your age, my father, your grandfather was in the war with two bio-mechanical arms, and he rarely ever got me any presents. On the other hand, you have a rich dad who will sacrifice himself for your enj-"Suddenly, the glass from the window broke and three men with tri-scope titanium rifles, all dressed in what looked like black military armour.
"GET DOWN ON THE GROUND, NOW!" Commanded one of the men, with a strong Irish accent to my mother and me, and we did not even question his command. My pulse was beating too quickly and the men easily terrified me. Lying down I looked over to my mother to see her wide in shock, however I could not see my father. Nevertheless, I knew I should not look back. I started to sweat from this event. Who would break into our house, come in with rifles and order us to stay on the ground. A better question would be why. Could this be the thugs called Magna that I hear on the news? No, it cannot be them; they stay low, have an M on their vests and only rob banks and companies.
"YOU, IN THE WHITE SHIRT, COME WITH ME!" Ordered a second man with a heavy British accent, referring to my father. It looks like they do not want to harm my mother and me, but have some sort of business. I see my father and two of the men walk into my father's office. My eyes widen as I realize these people might want to kill my father. I look over to my mother to see her trying to hold back her tears, and quietly sob.
I hear the faint voices from the office, though I cannot make out the words they are saying. Their voices becoming more audible to my ears. A liquid trickles down my cheeks, unsure if it is my sweat or my tears. The voices become audible and I hear them yelling and arguing. The third man has tough Italian accent, though I cannot comprehend what they are arguing, due to my mother's sobbing.
"…no… please… no…. don-….don't ….kill... him…" My mother pleading to the man behind us. Her tears reaching her mouth and reaching inside and I feel a knot in my stomach. What can I do to stop this, I cannot. I have been telling myself that for years, allowing people take credit for what I do, stealing my food even though I'm the strongest kid in my class. However, they do not know that, because I have never done anything to stop them, but not today.
"HEY YOU! SHUT UP AND STOP YOUR MOANING!" The man with the Scottish accent commanded, as he went up to my mother's side and kicked her in the ribs. My mother yelled from the pain and cried even more from before. She turned her body her hands squeezing the pain in the ribs. I was furious at the man, and I was going to change his mind not to treat anyone like that.
I examined his movements sometimes looking at my dad's office, the clock, the door, the window and us. I took the chance where he was not looking at us, and I swiftly stood up, quietly grabbed the MeatSlicer located on the kitchen counter, and then quietly went back on the floor. I pressed the POWER button on the MeatSlicer and the blade turned blazing red as I felt the heat from my palms where the small black hilt was being held. I looked back; he was not looking at us. I moved swiftly from my position and struck the blade hard into the man's back where there was no protection. The knife buzzed in my hands as it was not only making a wound but also burning his flesh.
"ARAGHHHH!" The man yelled, screaming from the intense pain the knife inflicted on him. I took the blade out as the man's blood bubbled and boiled on the knife emitting a sizzling sound. The man fell on his knees writhing in pain, and then he completely collapsed. I turned off the knife and I tried to pick up the rifle with all my effort, but the firearm was too heavy for my efforts, so my mother helped me and we hid it behind the counter. We crouched behind the counter so the men cannot spot us. What was I doing? I killed a man that kicked my mother, and now I am hiding from two men with rifles that are trying to kill us. These events are happening to fast for me.
Suddenly, a figure stepped out of the office, and the voices from the office came to a halt. I peeked from behind the counter to see him examining the dead body and the spot where my mother and I lay down. I turned to my mother, her eyes wide in shock from the event that has just occurred, her sobbing yielded and breathing rapidly. The man turned towards the office, I took this opportunity to heave the rifle. My muscles ached as I picked up the firearm, amazed at my unknown strength, I practice lifting it like a dumbbell. The simplicity astonished me; however, I quickly remembered what I had to do.
I aimed the crosshair at the figure's spine, and laced my finger around the trigger. My palms were sweaty, I have killed someone, and now I'm about to do it again. I was tense at those moments, and that is when I realized I wasn't normal.
I heard the trigger CLICK, as my index finger jerked onto the trigger. The bullet escaped the rifle's barrel, which created a loud BRISH sound. The bullet escaped its capsule, as I observe the bullet ripping through the air. The capsule began to fall on the ground; however, the bullet travelled halfway through to the target. I suddenly realized what I have experienced. I can slow down time in my mind.
The bullet hit the back of the man, nevertheless, the bullet ricocheted of the man's back, and afterwards falling to the ground along with the capsule at normal speed. The man took a sharp turn to me, his brown eyes darting to my surprised face. I couldn't react towards him not by moving, not by shooting, I just stood there immobilized by this experience.
"YOU LITTLE SHIT!" The man barked at me, and realizing it was the man with the British accent. He pointed his rifle towards my right foot and shot. The bullet quickly darted through the air without me seeing it in slow motion. The bullet ripped through my snow-white socks, and lodged into my toe.
I screamed as if my body was poured in with gallons of anguish and pain. Droplets of blood scattered near my foot and I fell onto my knees releasing the rifle. My mother screamed as she rushed to get me holding out her hands to catch me as I fell backwards. Though, for some odd reason, the pain quickly evaporated. I did not shed a tear. I have stopped yelling. Was I dying? I heard that when people die they do not feel pain. But it can't be. I am still so young. Alternatively, was this my newly found gift?
I took in a deep breath from my mouth.
I stood up looking dead into the British man's pewter, yet stunned brown eyes.
"Ho-…how…did you…re-...recover… so quickly?" The man asked stutteringly. His jaw dropped, and I looked at my mother, so was she, amazed at my immediate recovery.
I picked up the rifle with ease and pointed it towards the man's head, once again lacing my finger around the trigger. Clasping my finger on the bullet, once again the bullet darted at breakneck speed without me catching a glimpse of it slowed down.
There I did it again, the bullet went right between the eyes. Blood doused the black mask and the floor below him.
That's when the Italian walked into the room with my father in an arm lock with a handgun pointed to his scalp. Once again I was bind by this situation.
"You have a child with guts Mr. Newman, you know that?" The Italian man pointed out. "Killing two of my Elite men and what looks like, recovering from a bullet wound in seconds. Fascinating." He continued, as my father turned his head to look at my sock and then my face. My father's face was pale, and exhausted. Upon closer examination, I saw bruises on his cheekbones.
"I will come for him later once I'm done with his father." The man chuckled switching the handgun from my father's head to his stomach. I heard the gun click and my father collapsed on the ground with a bullet wound below his ribs.
"NO!" My mother screamed running, going to pick him up, and placing him on her lap. Tears shedding from her eyes, her words stuttering, and mumbling from the tears. The man started to walk away towards the window where they broke in.
I pointed the rifle sideways with one hand, pointing to the man's forehead, and told him with courage "I'm not finished with you."
I fired multiple bullets all escaping their cases; my mind slowed the event down making a millisecond equivalent to a second. All hitting him in the middle of the forehead, one after an other. Blood spilling from the forehead, but later on returning from its origins due to the consecutive shots. The man collapsed, falling on his knees, followed by me.
****
I wake up the next day to see myself in my bed and my mother beside the doorway. I turn my head gently to find my SandRemover, and hover over my eyes. All of my ‘Sandman's dust floats into the tube. I place it back, rubbing my temples and taking the glass of water on top of my drawer. I stretch my arms and yawn; I gulp down all the water, and wipe the excess on my shirt.
"Did dad die?" I ask, choosing the words carefully, looking up to my mother for the answer.
"No, he's in a Synthetic Coma, and will be out in a couple of months." She answered.
I took a short sigh of relief. I knew that if an injury rips the clothing, the microscopic microchips turn on and signals the ambulance. However, Synthetic Comas are used for serious injuries.
"What happened that day?" I continued. Yesterday's events made a blur in my memory.
"You where able to pick up a fifty-pound rifle with one hand, and accurately shoot twenty four bullets in the same spot, without any trouble." She explained briefly. Her eyes examining me, as if she never knew me.
***
Two days later, I found out that my father died. Someone broke in and stabbed my father right into his heart, and without leaving a trace, only the letter M. However, the despair does not stop there, ten years later it becomes worse.
