Chapter 04: AMERICA 2008
(Kilimanjaro mountain)
The boy sat in the pooling blood of the two men, his breath ragged, chest hammering against his ribs. Above him, the clouds tore apart, revealing a sky so sharp and blue.
The warmth soaking through his clothes should have made him gag. Instead, it clung to him like a baptism. Triumph and horror wrestled in his gut. He wanted to laugh. He wanted to vomit.
Then— A low, mechanical growl rolled over the mountain. Whup-whup-whup. The sound grew teeth.
A helicopter burst into view, blades slicing the air, its downdraft flattening the grass and pressing him into the bloodied earth. Dust and crimson mist swirled around him like a storm.
Two figures dropped from the sky. The first — a tall, hard-faced blonde woman, eyes like cut emeralds, scanning him with the precision of a sniper.
The second — a girl barely older than him, her boots hitting the ground with a predator's grace. Before he could move, they had positioned themselves on either side of him, blocking any escape.
The blonde woman drew her weapon in one fluid motion, its barrel finding the kid's face with practiced precision. "Those two men," she said, her voice flat as the horizon. "Your work?"
The girl laughed, sharp and mocking. "Seriously, Ivy? He's just a kid." The blond woman's eyes narrowed, her voice cold."Look at his hand, Selina."
The little girl's gaze dropped. The Kid's fingers curled tightly around an axe, its blade drenched in fresh, dripping blood. Her smirk curdled into something feral.
"You… you killed 7?" Her voice cracked with rage.
Steel hissed as she drew two knives, the light catching on their edges. "Say the word, and I'll gut him where he sits."
"Not yet," the blond woman replied evenly, her tone sharper than the knives. The boy's grin was slow, deliberate. His voice came low, like a growl from the earth itself.
"If you're with a white-eyed man… you'll die like him."
the little girl stepped forward, blades raised. "Let me kill him," she snarled, teeth bared like a wolf ready to strike.
The blond woman closed the distance, her boots echoing on the Ground. Without hesitation, she lifted her pistol — then swung hard, striking the Kid across the jaw with the back of the gun.
Crack.
The Kid's head snapped to the side, blood spraying against the Tree. Slowly, almost too slowly, he turned back toward her, his grin wider, sharper. The axe trembled in his grip.
"Try it, kid," Ivy said, her voice like steel drawn from a sheath.
the blond women didn't wait. She lunged, her leg whipping upward in a brutal arc. Her boot connected with his jaw.
The world went black for him before he hit the ground.
The axe slipped from his hand, landing with a dull, wet thud. When the Kid's eyes opened, the world was no longer the same.
He lay sprawled on wet sand, the hiss and crash of waves pounding in his ears.
Salt stung his lips, the wind whipping across his face like a thousand tiny blades. Above him, gulls wheeled in a bruised sky.
What happened? The thought was sluggish, heavy, as if it had to fight its way through fog.
A scream ripped the air apart. He turned his head — slow, aching — and saw a boy charging toward him from down the shoreline. Bare feet pounding the sand. Mouth open in a howl of rage. Eyes locked on him like a predator's.
"I… I know him," the Kid whispered, his voice trembling. The scream cut off instantly. The silence that followed was unnatural, as if someone had ripped the sound out of the world.
Then—impact.
AMERICA 2008
(New York)
cold water slammed into his skin. He jolted awake, He gasped, choking on salt water, coughing until his ribs ached.
That's when he felt it — the bite of rope around his wrists and ankles, fibers grinding into raw skin.
Blinking through the sting of salt water, he lifted his head. The blond stood over him, A bucket dangled from her hand, still dripping. Her golden hair caught the flicker of light from somewhere beyond
the dunes, each strand burning like molten metal. Behind her, two tall figures loomed in the shadows. Their faces were hidden, their stillness oppressive — like statues carved from the dark.
the blond crouched, her knives glinting at her hips. Her eyes were molten with fury. When she spoke, her voice was low, deliberate — the sound of a blade sliding from its sheath.
"Now, kid…" She tilted her head, just enough to make the gesture dangerous. "Who are you?