The Altered Chapter 1 & 2

THE ALTERED

K.l.d. petrie 1

Since man took his first steps on this world he has never been satisfied with the limitations the cosmos has placed upon him. Slow... weak... pathetic... mortal. Alchemists, holy men, scientists, each era searched for their own path to power. 16 years ago, in the wake of the nuclear cold, a new battle was stirring amongst the nations, a genetic war verging on point of apocalyptic proportion. The great mahogany doors of the Parliament office flung open. A colossus of a man barged though. Marcus had had it with these “working lunches” everyone he had made for more documents to conceal from the public and more sleepless nights. The room he entered was an artisan crafted circular room, coated in a light steely blue with oak fixtures. Shelves were lined with ornate medical journals, dockets and various medical instruments, both antique and modern. An oak desk sat before one of the ceiling high shelves and a bay window offset to that. A Rust colour headed East-Coast Minister sat in an overly size dark leather chair. His pale features were now almost bleached out as a look of complete shock washed over his face. “This is absurd. There is no justifiable reason for this “gene war”.” Marcus Alistair roared, slamming a heavy fist on Ronald Marguay’s desk. The Canadian minister of defense

2

rubbed the back of his shaved head, his dark skin concealing the redness of his outrage. “The Americans are our greatest allies.” The whites of his eyes felt they had a fire blazing behind them. The chaos that had ensued in the past couple of years, the Berlin wall, the emergence of the Ukraine, and the rumours that there were many people in the world racing to crack the human genome had all crossed his desk and his mind, leaving a heavy burden on each. The Minister of Scientific Advancement broke from his initial shock, before as calmly as he could muster addressed his coworker. “Our sources say the Americans have been dealing in experimental genetics for almost six years now. They’ve begun researching the human genome...” Marguay wanted to jump up from behind his desk, but all the adrenaline brought on by the initial shock had left him, leaving his legs hobble and useless. “Them and the rest of the world.” Alistair roared, slamming his hands on Marguay’s desk causing a double helix model to crash to the floor, sending halves of red and blue base pairs scattering across the floor. Alistair massaged the knot on the base of his neck. This was one of those days he was tempted to give up politics and retire to a less stressful profession, like joining the Calgary Stampede. Digging both hands into his back neck he pulled the muscles forward “There is no telling on how far they have gone or are willing to go.” Marguay too had been burdened by the latest developments of the era, but now it was his turn to be in the public’s focus. With the cold war gone, it was

3

now a time for scientific and understanding, for so many countries were diving into the untamed waters of genetic exploration, he knew Canada had to join them, or else be left in the genetic dark ages. Marguay’s oak desk was cluttered with dockets, proposals and ongoing research from many scientific experiments Ottawa sanctioned, maybe 25% of which the Canadian populace actually knew about. “What this crackpot is proposing is unethical.” Alistair hissed through his teeth, as he began to pace the room, continually pulling at his neck muscles. A strong clearing throat came from behind him. “This “crackpot” is proposing a way to bring Canada out of the shadow of its older brother America and help bring Canada into the 21st century. This is the genetic era, and as the stone, bronze iron and steel ages before it, you must either adapt or pass on. You cannot expect the new age to be able survive on ancient equipment and practices. And I thought Canadians were know for their civility and manners. Not childish name-calling, Mr. Alistair, “ A middle-aged businessman stepped into the brightly lit circular office. Dressed in black business suit, the Japanese man stood formally as his entrance was acknowledged. The man had a couple of attendants stand closely in the shadows, both dressed to the point where they could be taken for CEOs of companies, except for their submissive posture gave them away.

4

“Professor Oka. I would like you to meet Marcus Alistair, Canadian Minister of Defense. Alistair, this is Professor Tsumi Oka, head of OkaCorp, one of Japan’s largest genetics facilities. They have been monitoring the American’s progress closely and they have offered their services with this program.” Marguay slowly rose from his desk, finally regaining his legs. He had a deep fear of the anger he saw in Alistair’s eyes. “And what are you looking for in return?” Alistair gave a cold look, knowing perfectly well men of Oka’s position didn’t lend out their services from the goodness of their hearts, even if it was an entire country that one man was helping. “What I ask for is a satisfactory lab that is extraterritorial to Canada. Any and all progress will be property of OkaCorp … with the Prime Minister’s consent of course. “ Oka’s reply was firm, glaring at the other men from an up tilted head. “The Prime Minister is a figure head, elected by the public to make them think they have some control over their country. The Prime Minister has no more power over the country than the mermaid carving over a sailing ship.” Marguay smirked guardedly. Cabinets and senates came and went with each new government, but the process was still the same. The Canadian people looked to the Prime Minister for guidance, but the Prime Minister looked to the rest of the governmental body for their guidance.

5

“Just don’t let him hear you say that. We will give you partial extraterritorial privileges. Canadian law will still be in effect and you will not hold diplomatic immunity. When you screw up, you will be guilty of everything.” Alistair eyed Oka suspiciously. There was no way Alistair was going to give this guy free reign of HIS country. Alistair kicked one of the broken blue beads. It skidded across the floor and ricocheted off of Oka’s black leather wingtips. Oka just gave a look a father would give his tantrum-exhausted child. “You treat me as if I were a common criminal.” Oka barely broke a smile at his own joke. “To some you might be considered one. Why come to Canada any ways? Isn’t there enough “resources” in Japan?” Alistair snapped, eyes narrowing. He did not know what it was about Oka that turned his stomach, his sterile mannerisms, his smarter than God presence or the fact that his proposition was just sick to the pit of your stomach wrong. Alistair read Oka’s presence like a cheap book. “Unfortunately, many of the resources in my homeland, such as the luxury of expansion are hard to come by. And Canada is always boisterous about how open their county is.” Oka slid a pair of wire frame glasses off the bridge of his nose and wiped the lenses with a soft white cloth retrieved from his top breast pocket. “What you’re doing is turning MY COUNTRY INTO YOUR OWN PERSONAL PETRI DISH!” Alistair roared,

6

pulling Oka in close, so close Alistair felt his own hot breath reflected off of Oka’s face. “ENOUGH ALISTAIR!!! Professor Oka. We will settle our perimeters later. I will have some one send you a list of our finest geneticists...” Marguay slammed a fist down on his desk, then faint-heartedly recoiling under Alistair’s glare. Marguay knew, deep in the pits of his stomach that Alistair was right, what doctor Oka was proposing would tear the country asunder if word ever got out. The people were supposed to trust their government, yet, for their own good, the population had to be kept in a dingy rose tinted sphere. “That will not be necessary. I have taken the liberty of supplying my own.” With that Oka raised his hand, motioning behind him. Oka’s silent manservant bowed as he opened the great doors to the room. Two full dressed RCMP officers could be been escorting a third man into the room. The man wore a deep plum almost black suit. His ebony black hair gelled into place. His dark East Indian features were crisp behind a furrow set brow. “I would like you to meet Doctor Victorod Mylindar, one of my top scientists.” Oka introduced the man, taking a step back behind Mylindar. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Mylindar replied curtly.

7

------------------------------------------------------------------Deep in the heart of Canada, in a location only know to the strictest few, the towering cylindrical walls of a hidden fortress were buried deep beneath the earth. The sheets of metal spiraled down the corridors like the engravings of a gun barrel. The lab sprawled out like a micro city. It had to be, for all the people that resided in these halls had signed their lives away. Until this project was done, all scientists, psychologists right down to the maintenance workers were restricted to the labs and the conjoined living facilities. All contact to the outside world was limited and heavily monitored. Any revelation of classified information was an arrestable offence. Already one man resided in the Lab’s “jail” all for telling his child of one of the closest cities to the lab. To the rest of the world, these people were dead; they were ghosts of the population. The great mind of the laboratory, Victorod Mylindar, Sat behind a uniform metal desk, his forehead pressed is his steepled fingers as if in some scientific prayer. His office was a cage, four walls of clear glass held together by steel crossbeams. There were no secrets in this lab. Secrets lead to compromise, which leads to leaked information. The tiny office held a desk and three uniform cold metal chairs and one overly cluttered metal desk. The desk held a cumbersome desktop computer with an unheard of 500 megabytes of memory. This machine, despite its awkward size was amazingly powerful. Victorod thought to himself. One wondered how they would ever make a device more powerful.

8

“We lost another 12 embryos today the catalysts are killing our samples faster than we can study them, sir.” One scientist, Caden, reported, looking up from a test tube he had brought for Victorod to analyze. “Children...” Victorod muttered. “Pardon?” The scientist looked up from his distraction, giving a breath to blow the dark strands of hair out of his face. “They’re children, not samples.” Victorod repeated, taking the amber-filled vile from Caden. Before their eyes the light golden fluid darkened and took on a deep grey look. Victorod placed a hand over his mouth, his eyes glistened in sorrow. Another child had just died in his hands. “I wouldn’t get too close, with the rate we’re losing them. If this how you will react every time another experiment fails, I suggest you get out of this profession.” The scientist returned to his work. “The reasons I came into this profession are my own, and the way I conduct myself is to my pronouncement. For the man that loses his humanity while trying to save the lives of others has just become a monstrous by product of a hopeless world. Do you have any children Caden?” Victorod almost murmured as he handed the vile back. Caden unceremoniously made a two point shot into a biohazards containment bin. Victorod scrunched his nose and turned away at the sight.

9

Caden dusted his hands slightly, but slowed as Victorod’s expression registered. He looked down, ashamed. “I have a son...” Caden murmured. Caden shuddered at how fast Victorod had moved from this eerie Poe-esque soul to a man one might place in his front lawn, asking to borrow your lawn mower. “And you would move heaven and earth to see him smile?” Victorod closed on of the open files on his desk, looking up into Caden’s electric blue eyes. “I would take on God himself just to see him once. My wife was eight months pregnant when I was brought into this program. All I know is he has her eyes and my hair. If it weren’t for all the bureaucratic crap, I would actually have a picture of him.” Caden turned one of the hard metal guest chairs around and straddled it. “These children were marked for death, and their only crime was being conceived at the wrong time, under the wrong circumstances. They were marked for death, just for the sake that they had no choice in their life. All I hope is to allow them to give humanity one great gift. Their deaths will not be in vain, as their parents meant them to be. These children are dying for a noble cause, they are pushing our potential as human, and they will be remembered for that... even if it is only by those of us confined here in this lab...” Victorod replied, pulling his bright white lab coat over his dark brown arms, he hated this feeling, preserving the

10

lives of the prior generation by destroying the next, sure his findings could benefit human life, but at what cost. Some people assume a scientist has no conscience, for what history has revealed as medical practice, many would see as barbaric torture, but from those organized accidents came many answers and better ways for society. The middle aged man slumped behind his desk, now cupping his face in his hands. He despised the disregard for human life, but his failures exceeded his successes. Waving the other scientist off, Victorod was left alone in his office. A slight rap came from the door. “Enter”. Victorod replied, without looking up. “Father... the test results... from test group 467-206...” Rhazzar replied, as he stepped into the room. The young man was out of breath, having run from one of the far labs it seemed. The young man was a younger version of his father with the looks of a bollywood idol. Rhazzar was a stern teen with a deep milk chocolate complexion, sparkling brown puppy dog eyes and split personality hair that was a patchwork of curly and straight spiky locks. What hid behind those looks was the mind of a man far beyond his years for at the age of 18; Rhazzar Mylindar was running experiments with juniors almost twice his age. Barely able to breath, Rhazzar grabbed his father’s hand and began trying to drag the older man to the glass-plate door. “Out of 2000... “children”, 20... ... of them have accepted their... treatments.” Rhazzar could barely state, partially out of exhaustion, partially out of sheer joy. Victorod was shaking

11

as he translated his son’s message. It almost didn’t sink in. It was too unbelievable. Tears choked Victorod, until the dreaded sting of reality hit hard. His face dropped as the calculation ran through his head. He slumped back down at his desk, forehead pressing on his crossed arms.“ So a 0.01 % survival rate, that will comfort the men upstairs.” “Just come and see”. Rhazzar pleaded. His father’s head swayed as he grudgingly rose from his desk. The stark hallways of the underground laboratory blinded the men as they journeyed to one of the far off wings. The room they entered would have put the Taj Mahal to shame with its space. Hundreds of rows of desks sat in straight lines with twenty coffee canister sized vessels placed on each, two inches equidistance from each other. In most of them the liquid was a dark, murky grey with something curled up inside. “ They would have been five months this week.” Victorod lowered his head, pounding his palms on the edge of the desk. “But father look here.” Rhazzar yelled from one desk at the front of the room. Twenty canisters had been pulled together from the multitude and placed here together. Each canister consisted of a titanium top and bottom with small rounded bolts that showed the round tipped suction clamps underneath that held the glass canister in place. A deep red tube

12

pumped manmade blood into the chamber while a second clear tube inserted in the previous one pumped medical air simultaneously into the canister to a small-shriveled form floating within the glass cylinder. These tubes mimicked an umbilical chord. An LCD screen on the bottom metal base flashed different chemicals and their amounts in each container. Adrenaline 50 mL, Estrogen 150 mL, Testosterone 0.1 m... Below the screen was a silver plate with the letters XX. Another canister with XY on the plate read out a much higher testosterone concentration on the LCD screen. 11 male canisters and 9 female canisters. Their liquid shimmered translucent amber, the rosy pink embryos floated peacefully. A bright smile crossed Victorod’s face. “They’re... perfect.” Straightening up, he brushed out his lab coat, his hands shaking wildly as he tried to do this. “Bring these children to my office. No more tests. Let’s see how they develop on their own.” Victorod replied, picking up one of the girl canisters. He had to the look of a delirious man. “Isn’t that right?” Victorod stroked the canister like a proud father would a sleeping child’s face. 4 Months Later... 2:43 a.m. “Mylindar-San, your progress has shown great improvement over the last few months, but can your entire experiment be

13

based on twenty case studies?” Oka hissed as the two men walked briskly though the halls. Oka-San had been on nerve the past month. Though the living quarters of the lab exceeded everyone’s basic daily needs, many felt they were on the edge of cabin fever. Oka-San was no exception to this rule. Months he had spent wandering the halls, keeping a watchful eye on his investments, but in moments of weakness he felt he would give life itself just to feel the sun on his skin again. “As I have told you before, it will be enough. It is a small case study, but a case study nonetheless. Quietly now.” Victorod whispered excitedly. A lavender room housed twenty identical white wooden cribs. Oka had visited the “children” numerous times, having been trapped in the lab for almost half a year. There lay twenty seemingly healthy children, a cross-section of the world in one room. Their features finally unobscured by the glass canisters were tiny and accounted for. Oka peered over one of the girls, even at such a young age she began to open her eyes. Oka staggered back at the sight. White blank eyes, void of iris or pupil blinked up at him, as if she could see him. The child smiled, raising little hands toward Oka. “She is blind.” Oka snapped. “We are unsure of that. But what she seems to lack in physical sight, she seems to make up for in some

14

undiscovered way.” Victorod smiled, taking a penlight from his pocket and flashing the red pointer at various locations in the crib. The child amazingly, responded to every new location of the light trying to grab or kick the dot, depending on its location. “So have there been any manifests?” Oka whispered hiding his look of intrigue resulting from this new insight. “Except for some increased muscle density on a couple of them, not much, but it does show there was some genetic change.” Victorod replied, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Ever since the children were removed from their development canisters Victorod had barely seen his sleeping quarters, but watching his children peacefully dreaming was a close enough compromise. Great forces, whether one or many had brought them this far, for there was no way these children could be here by man’s will alone. Time would only tell now where life’s wind would take them. “Have you ever considered what will happen to these children, if they survive their first birthday? Will you keep them caged in a lab for the rest of their lives? Will you release them into the world, with knowledge that they are not the same as everyone else?” Oka closed his eyes for a moment of deep thought as he leaned over the crib’s railing. “That, my friend, would be a fate worse than death, for to steal the innocence from a child is to steal the sun from the sky. And I could never forgive myself if I allowed that to happen. I have

15

approached some of the staff. Many are willing to take care of the children for us. They have really fallen in love with the children.” Victorod breathed a sigh of relief. Though it would not make up for all the lives lost to this experiment, he would see it that his children would have the full experience of life, even if it cost him his own life, then may he feel atoned. The precious moment was broken by the shrill of alarms and the cries of children. The lights turned out and red emergency lights flooded the room. Staff raced in and out of rooms in panic. A sheer cold gripped Victorod, on paper the lab was prepared for anything, but in truth they were no more prepared then kindergartners in a fire drill. “Father... Father.” Rhazzar raced through the nursery door into the wail of screaming children. He was clothed in a white undershirt, striped blue and white boxers and white socks. The alarms had woken Rhazzar from his sleep. “There’s been an infiltration, we have to get out.” Rhazzar breathed heavy. Victorod flinched as millions of thoughts buzzed through his head. He had no choice, if they stayed in the lab they’d be locked in, but their fortress would become their prison. And their tomb with the threat already within their walls. “You heard the man, get the children out of here!!” Victorod yelled. Nursery staff came rushing in, picking up children

16

three at a time. The lights and noise were nauseating and disorientating. Through the sirens and flashing lights one could barely discern ceiling from floor without the aid of gravity to divide the two. “Exit C, meeting point 13 A.” Victorod yelled, gathering a child in his arms as the technicians fled through the tunnels. “We need to separate them, send them to different countries. I have a friend in Ireland... If they stay together... they’ll die!” Victorod wheezed, sweat dripping into his eyes. The group had gotten smaller. Only Oka, Rhazzar and Victorod stood in the hallway with seven children between them. The shots came closer. The Military men assigned to the labs had drawn their guns and were firing at still unseen assailants. Bullets could be heard hitting soft tissue and bone. Men and women who were the best of the best in the Canadian military were dropping wounded, firing their guns till the end. Faint wails echoed. Children’s cries cut short in a blood filled choke. They were being picked off. This was not some random attack, to get into this facility there must have been months of planning... and probably an inside source. A thud came from a nearby corridor. A crew cut haired man fell back into the crossways, a clean shot right through the forehead. “We have to keep moving.” Rhazzar hissed, sensing a moving presence. Cl-click.

17

“You’re not going anywhere.” A commando ordered, pointing a semi-automatic at Rhazzar. <”Rhazzar, run”>. Victorod hissed in Punjabi. <”No, not without you.”> Rhazzar’s eyes widened, not knowing if he feared more for his own life... or his father’s. Many more lives counted on his father than did his. <”Rhazzar, you do not honour my command with your reply, now run!”> Victorod yelled tossing the children he held to his Son. The force of the flung children caused Rhazzar to stumble back as he tried to catch the child while holding three others. <”Lock down sequence 3175.”> Victorod ordered. A solid metal door swung down between Victorod and Rhazzar. <”Father what are you doing? Father... FATHER!!”> But all that answered Rhazzar was the sound of machine gun fire and the trickle of crimson liquid seeping from under the door. “Hurry, your father’s sacrifice has brought us some time.” Oka shouted as he raced down the corridor. <“No not without my father. Father. FATHER!!” > Rhazzar woke in a damp sweat. Expecting to wake to the dry Indian heat, all he was greeted with was the muggy heat of Tokyo. India’s Institute of Genetic Advancement had to nearly drag Rhazzar on a vacation. He had not taken one in nearly

18

two decades. But it was the dream that kept Rhazzar from resting, because that dream wasn’t a dream, but an ancient memory, one Rhazzar wished he could repress. 16 years from that fateful date. The day he lost his hero and his entire family. The day after that event Rhazzar transferred out of what remained of the Japanese-Canadian Genetics Project back to IIGA where he continued his genetic research, hoping to bury himself in his work. Rhazzar turned his head just enough to see his travel alarm. 10:39 PM. Jetlag had really taken its toll on him or it could have been the Gravol he took on the plane. Hunger pangs called to Rhazzar. A ceiling fan gently swung overhead, slowly in an intangible breeze. Red and white light faded through a small window, behind a thin white curtain. Sweat and humidity had soaked his clothes and bedding, to an intolerable point. The closet sized room stifled him swaying his decision to dine out. The night sky was contrasted by billions of lights that decorated the city. Reds and whites and an assortment of neon signs buzzed in the sky. For a man that’s job it was to discover the future of humanity, Rhazzar carried a world of regrets on his shoulders Victorod’s children had long since been lost in the world’s cracks, knowing it was for their own safety, yet Rhazzar regretted to see his father’s work go unfinished. Rhazzar stood lost in translation as he tried to find his way around the city. So far he had learned that red lights did not mean cookhouse. For what seemed like hours Rhazzar wandered the streets, every time there was either not a restaurant in sight, the chef was shutting down or the staff would just look blankly at Rhazzar as he stumbled though

19

his limited Japanese. Trying English drew the same results. Finally an intoxicating aroma of fried vegetables and ramen noodles drew him in. A tiny wooden kitchen with a store patio had a red and white striped canopy stretched over the 12’x15’x8’ space. The restaurant’s name was scrawled out in Kanji, but a smaller sign read “Haa-Haa’s Ramen House” in English, a language that made Rhazzar’s heart leap when he read it. Four tables were set in front and four bolted stools in front of the counter. One customer sat at one of the tables with three empty bowls sacked one atop the other. One girl slowly swept the concrete patio. The man belched loudly and yelled something rude at the girl in Japanese that Rhazzar couldn’t translate. <”Hey Hostess, are you blind? My bowls are empty?”> The man lounged back in the metal chair. A real class act, right down to the black leather vest, Rayband® sunglasses and bargain store white cotton shirt, now stained with soy sauce and broth. The waitress hissed something inaudible as she cleared the man’s table and slammed the bowls on an open area of the shop’s counter space. Her hair was interestingly pulled into two ponytails then twisted at the ends back into one tail. Knock-off heavy tinted designer glasses obscured her face. Her lips seemed set in a scowl. Retrieving her broom, she began to sweep once again. The comments washed off of her, probably because of a lifetime of the same remarks. Rhazzar was about to pity her but then stopped himself as a small voice reasoned with him that maybe she did not want

20

pity, for maybe those who would stoop to the level of pitying someone they didn’t know may themselves need pity for they cannot grasp a world outside their own. Rhazzar stepped up to the counter. Rock music faded in and out between English and Japanese. Another girl with her hair done up in two tightly wound buns with the center frayed out dance about. Her almond shaped eyes were a seductive brown that complimented her heart-shaped face. You could use her apron as a menu with all the spills and stains on it. “... You’re sexy but you know it... You’re sexy but you know it... You’re sexy but you know it... You’re sexy but you know i t...” The girl swayed back and forth, singing longingly into a soup ladle. A short, round woman no taller than the counter came out and began beating the younger girl in the side, shouting rapidly. The girl shrieked and shouted back. “Excuse me... excuse me...” Rhazzar tried to catch their attention by leaning over the counter. “Hi hi, welcome to Haa-Haa’s Ramen House. May I take your order?” The girl jumped up, nearly bashing Rhazzar in the nose. She had returned to her very peppy state as soon as the woman stopped beating her. “May I please have a vegetarian bowl please?”

21

Rhazzar as his fingers nervously tapped on the counter. “Mebe...” The girl smiled, placing her pinkie beside the corner of her mouth, winked and whipped around behind the counter, pulling a bowl of noodles and vegetables out of what seemed like midair. “Order up Veggieman.” The girl presented with a little ta-da and a mock salute. The noodles were classic and rustic, but smelled divine to the starving man. Green onion, carrots and red pepper were carefully placed into a smiling face, obviously out a habit of serving younger children, or so Rhazzar thought. “Thank-you uh...” “ Miyazawa” “Thank you Miyazawa.” Rhazzar turned but Miyazawa spaced out for a couple of seconds before shaking it off and heading around the corner of the desk, heading towards the shop’s other customer. <”Okay, That’s four bowls of Ramen at 559 yen each so your total is 2236 yen.”> Miyazawa placed the bill on the table while holding out her other hand for payment. <”Yes, let me just get my... (CRASH)”> The man yelled throwing his arms up and over the small wrought iron table. Dishes flew everywhere as the man made a mad

22

sprint for the open street. The man threw the girl to the ground; he nearly made it to the street, but the man’s knees buckled out from under him in his escape. <”Pathetic, can’t even do a proper dine n’ dash.”> The sweeping girl huffed as she sat down on the man’s back, throwing off his center of gravity. Was it just her or were petty criminals just not putting effort into crimes. Yes, there would probably get off with just a warning, but the least they could do was make catching them a challenge. <”What is the meaning of this?”> A rent-a-cop demanded as he raced around the corner, it seems someone saw what happened and alerted the police. Only the times were things were under control did the police intervene and the times where knife fights and shoot out riddled the courtyard with casings and blood there was not a cop to be seen. <”Thief ”> the girl reported as she got off the man. The cop placed the man under arrest, but the girl knew he would be back on the streets I a couple of hours, freeing him on a “technicality”. He would recruit his friends and ransack the shop in revenge for refusing to give him a free meal. The girl sighed; making a mental note to remind her sister to make sure the shop was securely locked for the next couple of nights. ----------------------------------------------------------------------

23

10 year ago... OkaCorp, Tokyo, Japan Arai Chikako’s soft heel clipped briskly down the hallway as the Young maid scurried down the hall. The stark white painted walls nearly blinded her, the doors to numerous rooms camouflaged into the walls. Stopping short she pressed the clean bedding she was holding close to her body as she struggled to find her swipe card. She had been working at the labs for almost half a decade now in housekeeping. It had been a hard year for her with the loss of her father and mother soon after so it seemed like a blessing when she was approached by some of her superior’s superiors with a promotion. Her promotion had upgraded her accessibility immensely. Unfortunately, her new responsibilities had taken away almost all of her personal life and for some reason she had gained this unshakable feeling that she was always under supervision. Arai-San rolled her eyes and shifted her weight, trying to keep the bedding from falling. This door, like many of the doors in the lab, was restricted access only. A small letterbox like slot was barely visible behind a white painted steel plate. =Why would a research facility like OkaCorp need maids?”= Arai-San pondered to herself as the steel door finally slid open after she finally was able to force her id card into a

24

narrow slot, causing a small red pinprick light to flicker green. Stepping though the door was like stepping into another world. The cold steel metal was replaced with soft white silk curtains with morning light flooding in. Goza mats were placed intricately on the floor creating natural patterns with the interweaving. Two sets of seven tiered stands each held a full Emperor’s court of dolls, seated on a cascading curtain of red silk. Three of the walls were patterned with Shõji doors, patterned carefully with white paper stretched over a dark mahogany frame. Pulling back one of the doors on the interior wall, Arai-San revealed extra bedding, which she carefully added her bundle to. Closing the door softly, she felt a strange presence. Spinning on her heel, Arai-San came face to face with a young girl, her long black hair hung lose in her face in a childish way. Arai-San staggered back, clutching her chest as if her heart would fall out onto the clean white décor. Arai-San breathed easier as her heart calmed down. < What are you doing in my room > The girl snapped in a cold manner, suitable to an adolescent more than a mere child as the girl was. <What do you mean “your room”? This is a laboratory...> Arai-San staggered back. Walking around the child, Arai-San crashed into the near by display, sending tiers of doll crashing

25

to the floor. The young girl fell to the floor and began grabbing the dolls. Arai-San tried to pick up the dolls, but the younger girl batted Arai-San’s hand away. As the young girl brought her own hand back, her long hair flipped up enough for a white bandage to appear over the girl’s eyes. =What happened to you= Arai-San thought to herself as she reached out to brush the girl’s hair out of her face. The girl snapped coldly. <What... I didn’t say...> The little girl spat. Arai-San was taken back, her hand landed on one of the scattered dolls. Pulling it as almost a shield in front of her, the ball-and-socket eyes rocked open, causing Arai-San to drop the doll. The eye sockets were vacant, void of beautiful glass eyes usually placed in there. Shaking the doll revealed no rattle of loose eyes. The girl snapped the doll out of the woman’s grasp. =Freak.= Arai-San absently-mindedly thought to herself. < What did you call me... > The girl rose to her feet slowly never taking her covered gaze off the other woman. < Oh my gods, is she reading my mind? What sort of psychotic trick is this? > Arai-San bolted for the door,

26

crushing one of the porcelain Samurai under foot. His decorative top knot and bright red decorative features reverting to dust. < GET OUT!! GET OUT!! GET... OUT!! > The girl screamed. A violent, unnatural wind roared through the room. The young girl fell to the floor clutching her head. Her hair whipped in the wind like a horse’s mane at full gallop. The bandage fell from her eyes, revealing white voids. The woman screamed in horror at the child, millions of thoughts running though her head. < SHUT UP! > The girl screamed one last time, her face twisted in immense pain. Her hand raised to the older woman, causing the wind to verge full force on that one spot. Arai-San held her arms in front of her in an instinctive shield, but the invisible assailant threw her hard against the entry wall, breaking through the paper décor and smashing her skull into the steel plating. She collapsed to the floor, blood trickling down her face. Her sight began wavering. A siren could be heard in the distance, but that could be the concussion. Armed guards were entering the room, placing themselves between Arai-San and the girl. The last thing she saw before losing consciousness was Oka-San entered the room, reaching down and picking up the unconscious body of the young girl. ----------------------------------------------------------------------

27

Midnight Present Day Tokyo, Japan Yuna relaxed, a tranquil look crossed her face. The air tingled around her with a slight static charge; invisible sparks came from every cell in her body. A wave rippled over her body as if viewing her reflection in a disrupted pond. Her soft, bound hair shortened and coarsened. Her heart-shaped face narrowed and a small, black goatee sprouted from her chin. Turning around she stripped off her straight-legged jeans and cutesy bubbly pink top for a bright two-piece red suit with matching fedora and black shirt. She was no normal girl, she was ... .... something else. Yuna laughed, her voice much deeper, sultry tone. Yuki asked sarcastically, snapping Yuna/ Sasake’s pink bra loudly as it poked out from under the black shirt. he replied, rubbing the sore spot with one hand while unhooking the back of the bra with the other. Tossing it to Yuki, the leather-clad girl stuffed it into a small leather shoulder bag. Yuki’s complexion contrasted Yuna’s prior appearance. Her sharp, narrow features and high cheekbones were placed under very fair, almost

28

gothic-esque skin. A permanent scowl crossed her face as she rubbed her left temple trying to coax an undying migraine out of her head. Yuki didn’t even flinch as Yuna finished her transformation; due to the fact Yuki had seen her sister do this dance many times before. Yuki strapped her bag to her bike and straddled the seat. Yuna/Sasake tapped the air three times with both hands, moving his hands further with each emphasis of a syllable. <Whatever sake, just take the bets. > Yuki replied, pushing her bookie out of the darkened alleyway they were hiding in. Sasake scuffled to a stop, straightened his jacket, held his head high and confidently approached a gathering crowd collecting under a busy overpass. The Suzuki’s motor rumbled as Yuki streaked out of the alleyway. Face completely covered by a helmet and a black and yellow leather cycle suit kept her curves vivacious and her identity a secret. Her bike mimicked her suit. Yellow and black plating armored the bike.

29

<She looks more like a bee. A harmless honeybee. > One racer laughed. Sasake laughed, laying it on crap-cake thick. The biker tried to keep his manhood. He looked like a real show, salon hair, high-end leathers and a bike that many would only see in the playboy of racing magazines. The money could buy him the look, but never the skill. This kid was a display model, not a racer. <What? Are you scared she might take your pair? Then crawl on home and go play with your jewels. But if you’re ma enough to take her on, then pay up and mount your bike. > Sasake shouted to the crowd drawing in their attention and causing the man to freeze in fear and embarrassment. Yuna/Sasake smirked, players were all the same. You had to envy them for what they had, but you knew had to pitty them for what they thought they had. The two racers took their place behind the temporary starting line. The two girls stood on each side of the line. The crowd heaved and shoved in a human wave, all trying to get a good view of the racers. The two girls looked as

30

though they had just stepped off the streets of Harajuku, with a manga-esque look to their costumes. Black lacy micro skirts, white belts and white itty bitty pirate-esque tops barely covered them. They took their placed on each side of the starting line. <Set> Sasake yelled dropping his arm and the two bikes were off, ripping down the street towards the freeway merger. The air smoked with burning rubber. The city blitzed by in a whirl of colour as the racers rounded the corner. The traffic picked up as the road merged into the freeway. The racers were neck n’ neck but Yuki’s competitor didn’t feel like racing clean, sweeping hard, he smacked the front of his bike into Yuki, causing her to wean. Yuki kept her cool as she fought to gain control of her bike again. With that the other racer slipped into the constant stream of cars. Yuki swore to herself as she concentrated on finding an opening in the stream by running parallel to the traffic in the ending merge area. Yuki growled, charging head first into the river of car. Yuki missed the front bender of an oncoming car by a millimeter, whipping in between the cars at break neck speed to make up for lost time. Her opponent squirmed in and out of free spaces.

31

Yuki whispered, hitting the throttle and heading straight for the rear bumper of a cherry red Lamborghini. Gunning the gas again, the bike’s back tire slid out from under it, leveling the bike out and sending it streaking over the hood of the car. The bike revved again and flew to the next car. This game of leapfrog doubled Yuki’s speed and soon she surpassed her foe. =Now lets give him a little scare. = Yuki thought to herself. Waiting on top of a black Jaguar, she leaned forward and revved, the back wheel flew up into the air, balancing all the weight on the front tire. Carefully and quickly she threw her weight to the right, causing her bike to pirouette on the roof of the car, just as the competitor caught up with her. The man screamed in his helmet, as the raised tire skimmed the top of his helmet. The shock caused the man to lose control, his bike veering into traffic. Yuki hissed as her bike leveled out on top of the car. She grabbed the collar of his jacket just as the metal siding of his bike hit the concrete and shot sparks as the paint was scraped off. With unknown strength Yuki hauled the man onto the back of her bike. She read deep fear off of him. If his helmet had been off his face would probably be sheet white. AS soon as he was seated, the second biker wrapped his arms around Yuki’s waist, nearly squeezing all the life out of her. The survivor, in a daze, wondering how he appeared on his competitor’s bike could

32

only whimper under his now scuffed red and black paint splattered helmet. The other man’s bike disintegrated as it crashed into the end of the car in front of it, bounced off and wrapped itself around the metal railing of the overpass. Yuki hissed, hitting the throttle as the car-host turned right on a merge the bike flew into the air, dropping three stories to the freeway below landing with the grace of fresh snow. The mob of illegal street racers cleared as the bike rolled in, unscathed. Sasake screamed over the crowd. The other biker’s friends helped pry him off of Yuki’s bike. Pulling off his helmet and leather racing gloves, his whole body shook like an autumn leaf. AS Yuki predicted, he was the hue of a ghost. Yuki pulled up the screen of her mask, just enough to expose her lips and the tip of her nose. < Go home, sleep. Get a 9:00 5:00 job and start a family. And never NEVER let me see you on these streets again. > Yuki commanded, her deep red lips barely visible in the shadow of her helmet. The man cowered, clinging to his friends for support. Sasake blew kisses as he hopped on the back of Yuki’s bike and rode off into the night. -------------------------------------------------------------------

33

Two hours, seventeen minutes and thirty-three... thirtyfour... thirty-five seconds later. The engine died out a block from the ramen hut. Yuki pulled off her helmet and shook out her long black tresses. Yuki asked, walking the bike the last block. <Well, like I say, never bet against royalty. There were some Americans, Brits Australians and a Canadian in the crowd, all who bet against you, all money and no wits types...real...> Yuki spat, grunting as she pushed the silent motorcycle up an increasing slope. < Next time, screw the sound, we’re riding back up. > Yuki hissed. Yuna quickly rolled off. Her suit sagged around her as her features reverted back to normal, feminine form. Her hair grew out and hung loose, passed her shoulders. Yuna would have to reset her hair after. Hoisting her pants four inches, Yuna tried to keep the pant’s hems from dragging. This was her only good suit and would hate to have to try and explain to Haa haa why she owned a man’s suit. Curse you fir exchange, the more Yuna differed from her original appearance, the more energy it took and thus the less time she was able to hold that form.

34

A voice broke out across the desolate street. It was Yuki’s chump. His friends steadied him. The man slurred. He reeked of Sake and beer. Yuna slightly waved her hand in front of her face as he could smell the man from where he stood. Yuki replied, not even turning to look at the man. The man yelled as one of his friends grabbed Yuki and whipped her around. His face went an impossible paler shade than it had bee at the track as he stared into blank white eyes. Yuki recited, her voice seeming to have split into three different really angry frequencies. The men immediately fell to the ground, in the coiled position and cried. The two girls turned on their heals and left the men, a smile crossed Yuki’s face.

35

Yuna replied, as she finished changing back into her old form. Yuki slightly laughed. < So how does it feel, being able to implant thoughts like that into people’s heads? > Yuna smiled, giving Yuki a hand pushing the bike up the slope. Yuki snapped grunting as she began pushing the bike up the ever-steepening hill, leaving the boys where they cowered. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ < Hojo, come up with anything? > Yuna whispered as the hoisted herself through the second story window, tripping over the sill and hitting her chin to the wooden floor. Picking herself up, Yuna rubbed the sore spot. Yuna moaned to herself. <Just numbers and recorded chemical amounts, all of which seem to be terminated. This information must be ancient; it’s still saved on floppy drive. Those went out with

36

8 pixel VG monsters.> Hojo wheezed at his joke, but quickly died down when no one else was laughing. <Well something so ancient, it had enough security to shame the Emperor. > Yuki replied, sitting down on a wooden crate of tea. This room was used as extra storage for years, for that same amount of time they had used it as a safe-talking room, that way if Hojo’s mom barged in, they could claim they were taking inventory. Pulling a small pink floral printed cloth bound box from behind the stock of Pocky biscuit sticks. Unwrapping the cloth revealed an old bento box from which her removed and began cleaning the barrel of her “storm”, her 9 mm. A larger section on top clattered as pieces of metal could be heard rattling around. The room was stuffed, the only light came from a small window, almost completely blocked by a metal shelving unit weighted down by packages of dry noodles. An ancient chest freezer hummed in the corner. It held an assortment of fresher noodles and ice creams. Yuna pulled the top up and grabbed an orange sorbet pop, the hopped up onto the flat top of the chest. < Don’t let mama catch you eating the inventory. > Hojo shook a little as the thought of his mother chasing him around the kitchen. His mind switched to a different thought but a slap on the back of the head from Yuki brought him back to reality.
37

a break-in that big. > Hojo replied, finally looking up from the screen. If he stared at it any longer his eyes would go square. Yuna replied, sticking the ice cream into her mouth, pulling the wad out of her breast pocket and began sorting the cash into three neat piles. Hojo smiled weakly, his hands shaking as he took the money from Yuna. Yuna teased sweetly, taking the pop out of her mouth. Yuki replied, looking into the cylinder, which would not appear out of the ordinary, except for the fact Yuki was legally blind since birth. < So what are you going to do? > Hojo became real quiet. < What do you think?> Yuki looked up, giving a evil

38

looking smile. Whenever she gave that smile, it usually meant she was going to do something illegal, dangerous or, most likely, both. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 9:49 AM Rhazzar stood outside the gleaming front of the OkaCorp building. Silver twisting spires seemed to be floating above the white limestone walls of the front building. OkaCorp, founded more than twenty years ago by its founder Oka Tsumi, the company prided itself with its attempts to exceed human potential through genetics and technology. That was until Oka’s mysterious death. The company was now run by (vice) president Yokohara Mitsu, and his campaign to bring science and technology back into the hands of scientists and the government. Rhazzar stopped, a tiny message was written roughly scrawled on a corner of the doorway in kanji in black sharpie. A couple of the symbols Rhazzar could make out, but the message was lost in this translation. What Rhazzar could make out was “Yokohara” “children” and “Yummy”. <What a repulsive sense of humour these children have today. > Rhazzar was thoroughly disgusted. The doors to the building were stainless steel with bulletproof encased inside their frames. Four guards could be seen at

39

their posts on the other side. A small video intercom was located on a cutout wall beside the inset doors. Pressing a small red button, the squat face of a middle-aged woman in horned rimmed glasses, a beehive hair doo and too much mascara and red lipstick appeared on screen. She demanded something in Japanese. Rhazzar looked dumbfounded, unable to translate half of what she said. “Pardon me, I didn’t catch that...” Rhazzar tried to remain calm as he replied, but something about this woman gave him an odd feeling. “May I help you...” the woman asked, in a nasal filled voice, in English this time with a heavy Japanese accent. “Yes excuse me, is Yokohara-san in. My name is Dr. Rhazzar Mylindar and I’m here...” “Do you have an appointment?” The woman spoke slowly and pronounced as if she were talking to a child. “Well no... But all I’m asking...” “No appointment, no meeting.” With that the screen went blank. Rhazzar pushed the button again, trying to make contact, but it seems the secretary had assumed he would and now refused to acknowledge the calls. “It took me longer to read the graffiti.” Rhazzar spat

40

turning and giving the video box the cold shoulder. This was infuriating. Rhazzar had met Yokohara-San years ago, in the early stages of the Canadian experiment, while the lab was till being constructed, but that man was completely in the dark on the project. The only reason Rhazzar had even met the man was Yokohara-San had barged into the room during a very private meeting. Oka-San had told them after Yokohara had left that his (Yokohara) may be a great mind, but it was Yokohara’s type of great mind that should not be trusted. Rhazzar hated this. He did not want Oka’s files to land in Yokohara’s hands. Yokohara had no idea how dangerous the Canadian files were. =Desperate times call for desperate measures. = Rhazzar thought to himself. He knew what he had to do, and it had to be tonight. Unfortunately, Rhazzar did not know how he was going to accomplish the feat he needed to do. He could not call for back up, for no one could find out about those files. Rhazzar stood alone, the only one between Yokohara and Pandora’s box. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The midnight heat turned Rhazzar’s room into a sauna. That didn’t help the outfit Rhazzar had donned. Black jeans, black cotton turtleneck, sneakers and a balaclava. He was a scientist, not a fricken spy. Rhazzar pulled off the mask. This was stupid. There had to be an easier way, but any government involvement would risk exposing its contents to the world. And there were too many lives at stake for that.

41

Rhazzar flopped back onto the bed. The roar of a motorcycle down the street faded out. The usual bustle of Tokyo that had kept Rhazzar awake for the past two weeks seemed oddly quiet now. Rhazzar took one last look out of his widow. A small cut out in the wall was shadowed from the light, making a covered area just large enough for him to slide down without being seen. Rhazzar drew his last breath, then crept to the window and began his decent down from the second story, holding on for dear life to jutting out stones and fixtures. Everything was going smoothly until Rhazzar landed on the overhang above the front door. Misjudging the ledge width, he caught only the edging and fell the remaining story, landing hard on the cement. Swearing rapidly in Punjabi, he dusted himself off and limped into the shadows. Rhazzar muttered, rubbing his sore leg. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ OkaCorp, the panicle of genetic and technological advancement is protected by 700 video and audio cameras, 1000 military trained guards, plus an army of new electronic advancements not yet even imagined by the outside world. The company will never admit, but there has only been one successful break in. The outward facility looked like a space age chessboard with limestone, steel and glass forming five pawns behind a box rook. A network of underground tunnels connected all the towers.

42

On the 50th floor of the 50-story rook building sat one office, the office of Yokohara. Yokohara sat in minimalist inspired office, white walls with black and red metallic chairs around a clean steel and glass desk. A wall ceiling to floor flickered as surveillance video was streamed in. A slight beeping caught Yokohara’s attention. Pressing a button, the cameras flipped over to thermal cameras. Two large figures were crossing the meeting area between the pillars. Another button gave a quick scan, pulling up guard registration numbers. 0047- Morimoto Mazahara, 0089- Inuda Zekto Yokohara muttered. With that, as the men passed the next video camera a screen capture snapped their picture, placing an electronic alert to other monitors and guards to watch these two. This function was about to be put to the test as the shift change took place. The tunnels connected all the buildings, but the humans need for fresh air drove them to the surface. This angered Yokohara. Machines were more productive, never leaving early or asking for overtime or holidays off in stupid human rituals. Machines were trust worthier too. The crowd of scientist and guards dispersed back through hidden entrances to the tunnels. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ = Could you have snagged a bigger uniform, I think the helmet fits. = Yuki mentally snapped at her friend as they briskly marched through the corridors. Yuki held up her three sizes too big uniform up as she stumbled around the room.

43

Her “storm” in a gun holster on her side and her katana “fury” strapped to her back. That was Yuki, one of the greatest leaders Yuna knew. Yuki’s sharp tongue and quick thinking got them out of many incidents, about as many as her sharp thinking and tongue got them in to. They had been arrested five times, yet charges NEVER stuck. EVER. = You could always run naked through the halls. = Yuna replied crassly. = Yah all we need is one guy outside my mental ring to see a naked girl wandering around and our cover is blown. = Yuki replied as a man saluted her. The only thing everyone saw was 0559- Tszuki Mizo and 0850 Hikariwa Kyo. = That would actually make a great distraction. Are you sure the cameras are busy? =Yuna asked, saluting to a junior soldier as he jumped to attention at his post. The girls had picked the perfect stooges, high enough in rank to gain access and respect, but low enough to slide under the radar not be pressured by closeness to Yokohara’s military cabinet. = Yes mother, knowing Yokohara, anyone not running on schedule will draw suspicion and two guys leaving post five minutes early, especially after a break-in is suspicious. I’m sure those guys don’t mind me sending them on break early. We’ll be long gone by the time they find those other two guards in the closet. = Yuki replied. Yuna knew as much about Yuki’s ability as Yuki herself

44

did, there were always hard to define rules to being a telepath, like yes Yuki could tweak people’s optic nerve and make them see something that wasn’t there and she could take a look at their thoughts, but only limitedly and Yuki could not make someone do anything. She could place a thought into someone’s head, but they had to follow thorough with it on their own. The situations she created could seem real to those viewing them, but actually they were holograms of the mind. Yuna, on the other had proudly marched though the halls, a perfect replica of one of the lower rank men locked in a broom closet. If Yuki were to be considered the brains, Yuna was the brawns, able to control her molecules with amazing grace and skill, able to shift them and organize them in any pattern she wished. Right down to replicating someone’s DNA pattern, finger prints and vocal pitch. This was amplified with a photographic and vocal memory, allowing her to remember any feature she has seen, even for a moment, unfortunately this only registered with human features. She could live the life of anyone, but she could not BE another person. For remembering documents and other knowledge however, she was just the same as anyone else. Also unfortunately, her abilities excluded the transformation of inanimate objects such as clothing. And, even though she tried, animal transformations seemed taboo to her. Yuna was the conscience of the duo. The voice of reason and Yuki’s only family. Her bubbly personality was one side to her, her restaurant server side. Now was her serious-concerned partner-in-crime side.

45

= Great, now find the rook tunnel... see the guy missing the top of his ear, 2:00- he’s headed to the top of the rook. You know what to do. = Yuki replied, glaring at the cameras, turning them with an invisible mental hand to create blind spots. From what the girls could figure from experimentation with their abilities, there were three distinct abilities within them, all related in some aspect. Thus Yuki called her powers “Mental Manipulation” and Yuna’s “Physical Manipulation”. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Yokohara’s computer moaned as information transferred through genetic records, chemical amounts, all crap to the civilian world, but to him, this was gold, this was Frankenstein’s formula to awakening his monster. <What were you into Oka...> Pa-pling... An email popped up on one of the screens. Yokohara-san. There are some complications with Oka-san will. Please tell me when you’re free so we can discuss these matters. Yokohara muttered. For years Yokohara battled Oka in death. For Oka had put many restraints on Yokohara’s power, never officially handing over the company to the younger man. <Screen lock.> Yokohara snapped, pressing the intercom button on his desk.

46

A clean white yin yang style door parted with two guards positioned in a salute. <Make sure no one get in or out.> Yokohara snapped as he stormed down the hall. both soldiers replied in salute. As soon as the chairman was out of view one of the soldiers raised two tightly pressed fingers to the door, then opening them into the peace sign, the door divided once again. Yuki smirked, ushering her sister into the office. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ <What do you mean I’m only holding two thirds of the total income of the company?!!> Yokohara pounded the desk. A disheveled man cowered in fear. In one of the lower offices of the corporation, Ozomaki-san ran legal documents again and again across his screen. He had been over this will at east two thousand times, and yet it was still air tight as it had been then and would be from this day on. Ozomaki, a feeble, over worked lawyer pushed his glasses back up onto his nose. A formal parchment lay smoothed out on the desk, slightly tinged with age. Perfect kanji was intricately written in straight rows, these were the final wishes of Oka Tsumi, former, and as the contract stated, current CEO of OkaCorp. His office was in sheer contrast of the rest of the lab. His office was his sanctuary from the cold, inhumanness of the metal and glass. Ozomaki’s office was a deep burgundy red, lined

47

with mahogany shelves, adorned with intricate texts, in at least seven languages. A matching desk was two inches from one shelf and a foot from the other on the opposite wall, giving Ozomaki very little room to move in his office, a converted closet as it felt. He guessed this was part of Yokohara’s plan to break him, confining him, waking him at all hours of the night, breaking down Ozomaki’s mental barriers until Ozomaki would relent. Yokohara snarled grabbing the lawyer by the shirt collar. Yokohara’s hot breath fogging up the lawyer’s glasses. That one slip of paper, and the copies of it Ozomaki held were the few stumbling blocks Yokohara despised. <Well, well the money will not transfer for another four years. So there is time to stop it from transferring if we...> Yokohara tried to regain his cool as he smoothed the lawyer’s shirt out. <Si... si... sixteen years.> the lawyer stammered.

48

Yokohara smiled devilishly. There was someone out there Oka was trying to help. There had to be. Some late night fling that turned out to be a love child that Oka would spring a amassed fortune on. Or an intricately created embezzling ploy. Either way Yokohara was going to win. For in life Oka never fully trusted Yokohara, so in death, Yokohara would return the favour to this boss, ripping everything out from under his cold, dead body and dragging his name through the mud. <But this is legally binding... we can’t...”? <What we’re going to do is... (Taking a lighter from his breast coat pocket.) is act as if this copy never happened. Now rewrite the will. My men will handle the accounts. Now, go do your job. That’s what I pay you to do, is it not.> Yokohara patted the man’s chest as flames engulfed the contract. The lawyer was broken, he had lost. Yokohara gleefully watched the will leave a charred mark on the lawyer’s mahogany desk. He had always wished to do that. For years he planned it, watching the flames eat the paper away in a flurry of charred ash. What stopped him for so log was Ozomaki’s will and spirit; finally Yokohara had almost broken the other man. For that night Ozomaki had made a great flaw... he had brought the original copy with him. The copies would be easy to track

49

down and dispose of in the same way. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ <Screen unlock.> Yokohara’s voice echoed in the office. The screen blinked to life. <So what is it?> Yuki hissed, revolver pointed at the door. <Same as before, chemicals and amounts... Nothing.> Yuna, disguised as the middle aged balding Japanese businessman Yokohara, replied. <Well hit copy and lets get out of here. Hurry, he’s in my radius. He’ll be here in less than five...> Yuki replied. Yuna shouted. <Snow, Can you make it transfer any faster?> Yuna replied in frustration, tapping the jump drive. Yuki growled. <Wait he’s stopped, I think my illusion got him. Dammit, he’s coming in, grab the drive, lets go.” > Yuki hissed. Sh-wish, the door swung open, the real Yokohara stepped into the room. Yuki and Yuna stood perfectly still against the wall as Yuki played with Yokohara’s senses, making him think he was alone.

50

<Screen unlock.> Yokohara growled. <Screen is already unlocked> the computer reported. <What!?!> Yokohara screamed. Yokohara yelled. Yuna yelled. Yokohara turned. Yuki lost her concentration. He looked dumbfounded as he stared at himself standing up against a wall with a blind girl standing beside him. <SMOOTH MOVE Shift! >” Yuki yelled. Yokohara screamed. Steel shuttered covered the glass windows. With a flick of her wrist, Yuki sent Yokohara’s desk flying. The jump drive flying from the computer into Yuki’s stretched out hand. Another wave sent the steel door flying outward, right out of its support.

51

Alarms shrieked as the girls raced down the stark-white corridors. <Why couldn’t you make him not hear the computer!?!> Yuna yelled, still appearing as Yokohara. < With humans and animals I can go in their heads and know what they’re going to do or say, or if I have already assessed the situation I can predict actions. He took me off guard. I should have guessed that his computer had a talk application. But it also didn’t help I had a cross-dressing hypochondriac beside me. Why didn’t you lock the screen and why the hell did you name your jump drive “SEXY”?!?> Yuki shot back. Yuna yelled. Yuki gave a glance and an invisible wall sent twenty armed men crashing into the wall of the corridor. <We gotta get out now, I can’t hold out like this.> Yuki wheezed as she sent another swarm flying. Yuna closed her eyes and concentrated all her strength into her cells, into enlarging each and every one of them.

52

The corridor began to grow smaller and smaller. Metal and plaster bent and broke away. The guards stopped, looked in amazement, then turned and fled in the other direction. It was like a scene from Alice in Wonderland as Yuna tried to force her body through the shrinking hall. She was already growing twenty feet tall proportionately, at the same time reverting to her true form. Yuna strained, her voice deepening as her vocal chords grew. Yuki ran ahead of her growing friend. Yuki yelled. Yuna’s foot slammed through to the floor below them. The floor above them beveled as her shoulders pressed against it. 40 feet, 45 feet the 15-foot ceiling crumbled as Yuna’s head ran through to the next floor. People screamed in terror. Yuna’s body was pushed to the max. At 50 foot tall the floors gave out under her. She broke through 15 stories Finally Yuna stopped falling, using her freed legs to kick out the wall of the building Yuna finally hit solid ground, catching her now miniature friend. Gunfire stung like mosquito bites as the girls made their getaway. The earth trembled as Yuna ran. Her size allowed her to cover miles in the matter of moments for it was only moment that they had. <We’re clear.> Yuki yelled. Yuna moaned, her body

53

quivering. Taking a few more steps, Yuna began to sway and shrink. She leaned forward, her body shrinking faster than it took to grow. Yuki tumbled from Yuna’s grasp, but floated to the ground gently. Cars could be heard a mile away, chasing the giantess. Yuna slumped to the ground, passed out from exhaustion. Luckily, they had landed in a nearby park, as trees shaded them from sight. Yuki slumped; the fight had exhausted her abilities and her strength. A glint in the moonlight revealed that this was the same location she had stashed her motorcycle. Breathing heavy, the electrons that her mind saw became blurry and unfocused. She had used too much energy. She and Yuna were defenseless. Yuki slumped to the ground, as a tall dark figure made its way over to them. She tried to send him flying, but found she barely had enough energy to toss his hair. Finally the darkness overcame her. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Yuki awoke to the moan of a small electronic fan. A cool face cloth was placed over her eyes. A portion of her strength had returned to her. She soled slightly. Yuna rested beside her on her face, red welts where the micro-bullets had hit her and bandages where the building had ripped at her. “ Ahh, you’re awaked.” A man replied in English. If Yuki could naturally see colour, she would say the room was white, blue and purple, but everything in her world was

54

white, blue and purple. Definition to objects was determined by how many electrons an area lost. The more electrons, the lighter the colour. Her rescuer’s hair slightly fluttered in the breeze. His face looked aged from lack of sleep. Yuki’s head ached as millions of unfiltered images flooded in. Long walks on the beach in India, a mother remembering the recipe for fish tempura, a dream about boys and ice cream cones... Yuki snapped. Jolting up in bed, Yuki pulled the air from the man’s lungs. An invisible hand clenched his throat. Her revolver skid across the floor from inside an overturned wastepaper basket. An ornate letter knife flew from the desk and encircled the man’s head. The blade came close and nicked his cheek. Yuki’s revolver clicked as a bullet was loaded. “Start talking.” Yuki hissed, gun pointed right at his forehead, releasing her psychic grasp from his throat. “My name is Rhazzar Mylindar... I’m a geneticist from India’s Institute of Genetic Advancement... I...” “I know all that. What is tomo no seimei? I know you know who I am, How do you know Oka-chee ... Oka-san? ANSWER ME!!!!” Yuki hissed. Mylindar couldn’t speak, but his thoughts did. All those years ago, the horrors that happened that night. “You better not be messing with me...” Yuki yelled. The letter opener cut deeper o its next pass. The opener slid close to Rhazzar’s throat.

55

< I swear, if you are making this up, I will pull you apart cell by cell.” Yuki glared. “Ms, what I lost that day is something that has haunted me all my life. The only reason I would lie about that night would be to save myself the grief of that night. Not add to it.” Rhazzar replied. The knife gently placed itself back on the desk. Yuki stared coldly at Rhazzar. The man walked to Yuki, heavily favouring his left leg. “You did this to us. Didn’t you? DIDN’T YOU?!?! You played God and now we’re suffering for your sins.” “I believe that God is a very caring, yet very just creator. He has punished my father and I for out transgressions. I am sorry that you must share in my punishment but my father’s will was to benefit humankind...” “And are we just the byproducts of your father’s manmade miracles?” Yuki retorted. Rhazzar shuddered as anger rose in him. His voice spoke one thing but his heart said another. “You are the miracles of human potential. “We are the unwanted refuse of our parents selfishness and shame. Never lie to a telepath.” Yuki snapped.

56

“Yes, I cannot deny where my father found you, but... you are the future. You and your sister can do what no one else can.” Rhazzar replied, gently placing his hands on Yuki’s shoulders. “I cannot erase your past. Let me help you discover your future. There is so much more you can do than work in a noodle shop the rest of your life. Why concentrate on the occasional eat and run, you could change the world.” “You just want me to help you avenge your father’s death. Don’t lie.” Yuki smiled slightly. “Yes, yes, I’m a selfish little boy who cannot seem to find peace until I can find out who killed my father.” Rhazzar replied trying to hold back. “Good, I’m glad we got past that movie plot. I’ll help you, but in return, I want some help.” Yuki replied, leaning back on her elbows. “What, like a cure?” “No, more like a boost.” Yuki’s gun floated once more and begun pulling itself apart, component-by-component. “Small things are easy...” The gun fell, fully reassembled. The furnishings of the small room shuddered. Bed, dresser, television, even travel clock and lamps began hovering above the ground. A single drop of sweat crept beside Yuki’s hairline.

57

“Unless I am juiced on adrenaline, I can’t hold large items for very long. I want you to change that.” Yuki grunted, with that she let go, causing all the furniture and appliances to crash to the ground. Rhazzar narrowly missed losing a toe to the leg of the bed. “Does your sister feel the same way?” Rhazzar replied in amazement and concern. “Hey Yuna, Wanna hold giant form longer?” Yuki asked, poking the other girl in the side. “Yeah!” Yuna muttered into her pillow, weakly raising two thumbs up. “Well then when shall we get started?” Rhazzar replied, smiling slightly. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Yuki dusted a few fallen leaves off her motorcycle as it sat silently in the park, waiting for her like a dog for its master. The city buzzed with anticipation as the trio walked the bike back to the Ramen hut. A crowd had massed around. “Funny, the shop is never this busy, especially this early.” Yuna muttered. Pushing to the front of the crowd, their way was stopped by yellow police tape and a white-gloved policeman. The policeman reported.

58

<What’s going, we live here.> Yuna demanded.
59

other police coming up the stairs, she quickly stuffed her items in her shirt and locked up the safe. One of the police officers replied sticking his head in the room. Yuna replied as she headed to Haa-Haa’s room. The police wandered in and out, but Haa-Haa’s room lay vacant. Yuna knew Haa-Haa stored all her money in her room, but was unsure of where she stored it. Checking all the usual places, under the bed, in the dresser, behind hanging pictures for safes, Yuna came across Haa-Haa’s small jewellery box. Inside she found a small collection of necklaces, rings, bracelets and a large wad of bills. <Excuse me.> A female police officer poked her head into the room, only to find it empty. Yuna’s fingernails dug deep into the wood of the windowsill. Dropping to the ground she caught up with Yuki and Mylindar. “We’ll give it back when they get out.” Yuna replied, sliding the small box to Yuki. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The hospital was a 15-minute walk. The halls bustled with life and death as people wept and prayed, yelled and remained perfectly silent.

60

The trio approached the nursing station. Yuna asked, having reverted back to her original form. The nurse replied. Yuki replied. “Haa-Haa’s passed away. Too much smoke inhalation and burns to 70% of her body. Hojo’s fighting, but losing, right now he’s in ICU with restrictive access, but we can get in.> Yuki’s face lost all colour as Yuna saw her friend do something she thought she’d never see do again, hold back tears.Grabbing a lab coat for Rhazzar, the trio posed as Doctor and his two nurses. Rhazzar may have only been a geneticist, but he easily talked his way past the guards and other doctors. A ventilator breathed heavily as the trio entered the sterile room. Everyone was dressed in masks and gowns. Hojo’s squat body was nearly entombed in gauze. Blood seeped from a couple spots. Yuna whispered. She could see his eyes smile.
61

way out of a paper bag.> Yuna tried to hold back tears. Yuna looked to Yuki then started to reply. <She’s ...> <She’s fine. You’ll see her soon.> Yuki replied. Yuki telepathed something to Yuna and Yuna fought to keep from crying. Hojo muttered. <... it was him...> Yuki got the mental picture loud and clear. The instrument rattled with her cold anger. Hojo whispered. Yuna’s gentle lips lightly touching his interrupted Hojo. There was a lot of scar tissue, but Hojo could feel her gift. Hojo smiled. <My gift will come later, I promise.> Yuki replied. Hojo’s eyes fluttered, he didn’t have long. Yuna replied. Closing his eyes, Hojo’s breaths became slower and slower.

62

The emergency alarm sounded and nurses and doctors flooded into the room. Shouts and the deliberator sounded echoed out as the trio slipped out. Finally they stopped. Hojo had gone to be with his mother. The end of town this gang was in was cold, dark concentrated evil. Nobody sane came to this neighborhood. If they had a death wish, they came after dark. A cab pulled up in front of a dilapidated shack. A glazed eyed cabbie sat in the front, to him, he was dropping M-Flo off at her high-rise apartment. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “Wait here.” Yuki demanded Rhazzar. “No problem.” Rhazzar replied, slouching lower in his seat. It didn’t take a telepath to know where to start looking, and a few mental probes to find her target’s home base. There was no time to stop and sneak in. This was a full-out assault. Ten armed men lounged about the place, their leader sitting in a ratty beanbag chair. <Was a few bowls of noodles really worth two lives?> Yuki shouted, standing in the doorway. <What the hell, the blind sweeper? What are you going to do, beat me with a broom.” > the man laughed, pulling put his gun and pointing it at her.

63

Yuki made the hand sign for a gun and pointed it at her own head. Yuki laughed. The man looked, his own hand had a mind of its own and was now pointing his own gun at his head. <What? What? Ah... ah... ahh...> the man screamed, trying to pull his possessed hand from his head. Gunfire opened up in the house, bullets found targets in hosts, but not one hit Yuki. Men lay crying, as their “friends” bullets lay buried in their skin. Yuki hissed. Dropping the man’s hand. The man laughed, sending one bullet at Yuki. The bullet u-turned in the air, and hit its owner, right in the throat, and then Yuki angled it off so it narrowly missed his spinal column. The man choked on blood. She hissed then turned and walked out. Ambulance and police car sirens could be heard in the distance. Yuki replied as she slid into the cab. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Hojo and his mother were laid to rest a couple of days later.

64

A single marker pointed out where their ashes were. They were buried with Hojo’s father. Three lone figures stood in the setting sun. Yuna placed two wedding rings on a small stone step. “We thought you would like these back.” She replied to the stone. “We’re sorry you had to get messed up in our curse. It seems whoever comes into contact with us has their life destroyed. We hope you’re in a better place, and don’t worry about us. We’ll be fine. We’re leaving now for India so this will be goodbye for a while. Bt we’ll come and visit as soon as we can.” Yuna smiled as tears streaked down her face. Rhazzar placed an arm around her shoulders. This was the end of the beginning and the beginning of the end. It was time to continue on where his father left off so many years ago. It was time to take care of his own children.

65