He couldn't help the streak of ice that ran itself down his spine as he heard the great grandfather clock sound midnight upstairs. With the sounding of the bells, he quickly stowed his old metal spoon. The steel felt cold against his skin before he transferred it into the hole torn into the side of his mattress. It was cliché, he knew it was. He had read so many such escape attempts in the cheap second-hand mystery novels that were allowed him early in his stay. Despite how common the plan, the hole was already as wide as he was and almost as tall, straight through the soft brick of the mansion's underbelly. Everything was quiet, before the slight clopping sound of footfalls that could be heard reverberating from the immense stairwell, where the only visible light cast a dull glow across the room. Then he was blind.

The lights flicked suddenly to a shimmering blue-tinged radiance. LEDs they called them, those intensely bright lights that the 'good doctor' had switched over to sometime earlier this year. Was it last year? Maybe a decade before? He had long since lost track of time, but then again, so had everything else for him. Everything changed so slowly, if at all. His light blond hair grew normally enough, although remaining closely cropped from the constant abuse of an electric razor. His vivid blue-green eyes maintained the saturation of youth and his face was round in the appearance of youth, not because of any excess fat but because of the yet unformed prominent facial structures of adolescence. He was dreadfully thin, being around four feet and an inch tall, but weighing little more than five dozen pounds. His ribs poked precariously out, hips showing through skin tight across them, their shape neutral from much adjustment by the 'good doctor' to make a 'superior race'. But everything about his visage seemed to move in slow motion, if at all; his face never needed shaving, his underarms still showed no signs of hair; but then again, everything about his appearance was subject to change. He supposed that after the first few years without change, he should grow used to this bout of agelessness, but it only served to unsettle him further and make him feel empty and hollow as time passed mysteriously as he grasped for some sign of it.

Light streamed into his eyes and he wiped away tears with an overly sterilized hand. He was expected to be scrubbed clean before the entrance of the doctor, lest he be beaten for it and the experiments run further into the morphine's time limit. He had spent a half hour the night before in his small shower attempting to purge his skin of the utterly  filthy feeling that he had every time the doctor finished his work. His skin was a sickly white, translucent like alabaster, turned mottled red thanks to the vigorous scrubbing. His eyes reflected the masked face of his captor as he neared.

A tall man, the doctor was probably in his eighties, with short-cropped salt-and-pepper hair hidden skillfully beneath a mint green surgeon's cap. He wore a matching antibacterial mask covering his face, hiding his large hooked nose and stern lips, pressed into thin lines. The short hair that covered his upper lip strayed not far beyond the pores. The overall effect leaving him with a gravelly appearance of someone who had never been particularly attractive and was made less so by age and inner wickedness. For the body seemed to follow the spirit. The man's hooked fingers, callused over many years of holding the tools of his trade, grabbed at the youth's arms.

Dr. Vehdric was at one point a great medical mind on the German side of World War II, leading the research group on Polymorphic Human Genetics among other things. At the 'end' of the war, he displaced to Brazil, taking with him his last and most fruitful test subject.

Andrew was almost ten years old when the testing began. His youth was a jumble of fading memories: fleeing from war, enjoying the warmth of family on the lake in America and then ultimately being shipped with his father and mother to a military base in Austria towards the end of the war. How could he have known that this man would become the bane of his existence?

The day's testing began as usual: Andrew laid on the cold stainless steel of the operating table, trying to will his body to heat it before the operation started, so his joints wouldn't ache from the cold when he finally awoke four to twelve hours later. Nonetheless the day began with the prick of an IV needle. The slow spreading, creeping, veining chill of the saline infusion wandered up his arm and he knew as soon as the fluid reached his brain, the morphine in the IV drip would take him under, slowly and foreboding into its nightmarish grasp. And then it came. Colors washed over his vision in waves followed by the empty darkness. All accompanied by the feeling of flight, a lightening of the body, and the dull ache of suppressed nausea. Then everything went black and he felt the biodegradable thread being undone from the gussets on the 'Y' cut down his chest before his mind went blank, his subconscious just barely keeping track of what was going on in his body before it too failed him.

When he awoke Andrew could feel the passage of time by the discomfort in his joints. The clock chimed upstairs in response to the unasked question of the actual time, it was already three o'clock, thirteen hours later than when the operation started. He walked through the lab towards his bed. It wasn't much, but he knew that laying on the mattress would help relax him, while he sorted out what changes had been made. He fell back against the artificial down and the antiquated springs creaked in response, wishing him ill as he abused them by turning sharply. A pain flaming in his lower back where the last trait of humanity had fled him. "He moved my bones again." It wasn't so much a question, as it never was. He could feel the changes by now, know exactly what had been moved, replaced, modified. "But then again, they aren't even bones anymore now are they?" His sarcasm seemed to taint the room with a foul mood and he touched his lower back gently, willing the bone to be there. It was his last and he wished it hadn't been taken. But he only felt the cold chill of metal. The doctor had begun swapping his bones out a few years back, forced to take the process slowly as the process of removing the existing bones and attaching all of the nerves, veins, muscles and tendons to the new material was time consuming and exacting. He had seen the replacement bones a few times before the doctor grew too paranoid of his patient's knowledge. The shimmering metal structures were beautiful and yet the shifting shimmer of the material caused a rush of unease as he tried to focus on it. Eventually the doctor stopped allowing him to see anything of his work and instead pushed the limit of the morphine further each time to allow him to work in complete secrecy.

The next day was the same, his body violated again. The thread on his Y-incision was cut with great rapidity and precision, the ends jerked out of his flesh leaving weeping pock marks where they exited his skin. The doctor applied a strong corrosive solvent to a swab and worked it into the incision as the glue holding the boy’s body together dissolved with a distinct sizzling sound. After removing the remainder of the glue, the doctor worked his hands under the flaps of muscle and skin, his probing fingers skillfully severing the connective tissue away from the structures beneath. Blood spilled quietly, hot over the cold steel as the mad scientist worked his magic, hands far inside the body cavity. Elbow deep in rich scarlet blood when the morphine wore off quite unexpectedly. Horribly, slowly, Andrew regained control of his body. Sensation coming first, with immense, stabbing pain as the old man's probing hands surrounded his liver, pushing it aside to reach behind, searching for his kidney. Intent on trying to perfect the 'young' body before him. Dr. Vehdric heard the slowly rising screech of terror and agony that erupted from the throat of his subject. Eyes rolled back, muscles tensed and tearing, his mouth opened and a wail of sorrow, pain, and dread filled the air. Vehdric covered his ears quickly as their drums broke, his own blood mixing with Andrew's on his palms, the weary cry of someone so tortured as to feel the pain of many lives, all of them being channeled through the broken ears of the tormentor. Then Andrew seized and blacked out.

"I never imagined that would happen." The voice sounded foreign, not just because of its odd accent when speaking Portuguese, but because it croaked and whined of continual disuse and abuse from ages of smoking large cigars. Vehdric was upstairs talking with someone on a telephone. Andrew could just barely make out a static grumble from the other line. Before he was aware of his actions, he had his fingers through the hole in the wall, bricks erupting in many directions as he pulled them out of the wall. Sandy grout gave way to desperate fingers that forced themselves, blood trickling down the appendages from the rough clawing, through to freedom. Then he slithered through himself. Out into the warmth of early morning. He was in a large plot of land which felt as though it might as well be the moon. Andrew looked around quickly before darting towards a truck, hiding hastily behind it from what he imagined were the already prying eyes of everyone around. If only he were so lucky to have anyone looking for him. But his family would have long since been dead. So there would be no one to look for him, or to help him, hide him. Nothing.

His feet ached as he ran down the streets, dust rising with his steps on the hard, packed earth that made up the road. He passed an old donkey on the way, its cart full of odd trinkets and a rider not to be found, but the donkey continued obstinately on its path even as Andrew tried his best to turn and ride it. Instead he forced his tired legs to push on, coming to a small town where he found a bus. An old thing, reeking of oil and oddly spicy scents from the many varied passengers who all had small bags of food trying to peddle snacks for the long ride through to the next city over. Despite his stomach, which growled in response to the scents of exotic flavors, he chose to talk to no person, instead sneaking onto the bus quietly and sitting at the very back between two old women who seemed equally interested in ignoring him as they rode. Loudly the women gossiped in a mix of Spanish, English and Portuguese. Andrew caught snippets of the conversation; something about the Roderic family having lost their house in a bad gambling bet and the women's favorite roadside taco stand shutting down because a tax collector came through town and collected a decade's worth of back-taxes from them. Nothing of real importance, but by the end of the ride, he found himself glad for the refreshing amount of language. He had heard very little since his television broke many years before and the 'good doctor' silently refused to buy him another. The vinyl seat under him creaked as he stood up suddenly, his eyes widened, he could see the tall buildings of the capitol. Brasilia came up around them; people turned to look at the small boy covered only in green hospital scrubs, bloodied from many unfortunate tears in his stitches, who walked towards the front of the bus that stopped before the Airport.

The shimmering glass facade loomed before him in Art Deco glory. The building was massive and he walked carefully around it, expecting there to be something behind, instead he was greeted with a conning tower and miles of fence surrounded runway, planes shuttling quickly about. After squeezing carefully through a gate whose door hung limply on only one of its three half-barrel hinges, he ran towards a small plane which coasted through a wide gate on the side of the runway. The craft had its cargo hatch open for loading as a cargo truck drove quietly towards them, the few boxes of cargo looked lonely compared to the centipede-like lengths of cargo trucks for the larger planes and airliners. But it made catching up to the slower plane easier with less people to worry about spotting him. And somehow, nobody seemed to notice as he vaulted clumsily into the open plane. He huddled in a corner of the cargo compartment, trying to appear small while they loaded the plane. Only a thin tarp, that he hastily covered himself with, separated him from the watchful eyes of the employees who labored over the heavy boxes of fruit and vegetables. He almost yelped when a box of passion fruit nearly crushed his foot, but he drew it back just in time while he kept a hand clamped firmly over his mouth. A trickle of sweat worked its way down his spine as he attempted to steel his nerves for the flight. After hearing the hatch close after many anxious minutes of "check-list-ing", strap adjusting and talking-over the plane's flight; they were off, scuttling down the runway. Dangerously close to the end the runway, the plane broke from the Earth. The reinforced cloth on the wings flexed and billowed slightly as they caught air. Ripples worked their way through the skin of the plane as they flew up, scribing into the sky, below the contrails left by the other larger planes, bound for the United States. To the land of freedom.

He exhaled a breath shakily that he didn't realize he had been holding; holding for the past 66 years.

____________________________________________

The rivet gun was slick in his hand, the pocked steel handle finally clicking down with the completion of its task. The last rivet was placed and its work complete. "Now what to do with you?" The young man’s voice echoed dully off of crème walls and dark mahogany furniture. He stood crouching over his work in what would otherwise be considered a spare bedroom. The usual furnishings from the large flat went almost mysteriously missing, in their stead a series of mahogany closet organizers and boudoirs with enameled brass fixtures. The handles of the cabinets in gleaming symmetry to the color of his newly finished piece.

"How the hell am I going to get this thing out of here?" A tired frown curved at his lips; parted in exasperation, a matching furrow gently creasing his forehead. "I hadn’t exactly planned to finish it here, so I didn’t think about how to get it outside." His hand gripped the leather padded handlebar and turned it. The massive electric motor hidden within the hub of the rear wheel whirring to life under his touch helped him push his otherwise hefty creation out of the converted bedroom.

“I guess it’ll just have to be out the front door then.”

Tires squeaked approvingly on the hardwoods, leaving some light marks on the floor to be removed with the next waxing as the motorcycle finished its approach. The doors to the elevator opened with the gentle grind of a well-oiled sliding grate and a very surprised old man skittered out of the way, resembling a cockroach due to his leaning canter and black, pear shaped raincoat.

"I can't believe I managed to finish this thing early, I mean it just got done raining. Plus the paint booth won't be open to spray it with lacquer until tomorrow." The quiet musings continued on down the hall warranting a few odd looks and the closing of blinds on the doors of the adjoining condominiums as he worked the metal beast into the narrow lift just as the door tried to close itself dutifully for the third time. Luca lived in quite a "grand" condo complex. A relic from the gilded age, where the appearance of affluence served just as well as the actual money, the large building featured a beautiful golden veined green marble facade which dominated the street front making the whole place seem regal unless you noticed that the marble was but a very thin veneer. The concrete that made up the rest of the building was covered with a mix of dark brick veneer and stucco, sculpted copper window surrounds and other metal accents. It was a building refurbished in the late 80's yet it still managed to hold the lifeblood of its youth, the age shining through with the beauty and exotic nature of antiquity. Then Luca walked his bike through the front door, breaking the magic.

The copper plates shined along in smooth lengths, the curves of the bike accentuated sharply with the angular frame and various lengths, widths and shapes of tubing just visible around and through the shell of the bike. Brass cogs spun with the engine whir, hidden partially behind a filigree iron grate, reducing the gearing of the engine to a manageable level. Shocks and springs creaked as he eased it over the curb and onto the street before taking it down the alley, his arm half into a leather riding jacket. The tight, perfortated leather cinched down the volume of his teal sweater, the perforation on the leather ended where the ribbing on the front began and continued all along to the small of his back where the ribbed leather ended, leaving the smooth, creamy skin of his back exposed where the jacket seemingly ate his sweater while he fussed about trying to get it on, his grey-blue low-rise denim merely accentuated the curves of his toned muscle down the small of his back where it disappeared into shadow and beneath fabric.

His hair fluttered briefly before being swept back by the wind as he mounted and sped down the alley towards the downtown district, the shimmering hair seemed to be a perfect match for the metal of his ride. He paused for just a moment to slip some frameless sunglasses onto his nose then sped down a slightly larger road, pushing 55 mph down the narrow strip of asphalt (conveniently a 25 zone) before arriving at his destination: the basement of a nondescript office building.

The floor he was headed for, however was nothing like the large building would otherwise suggest, and entrance was by word of mouth and occasional stumble-upon happenstance. The building above was a large slab of reinforced concrete punctuated regularly with moderately sized rectangles of glass. It was so insufferably mundane. The office workers that filed out of the building were just the same as the nondescript building, faceless individuals wearing varying degrees of neutral clothing carrying the same manner of briefcase to and from their small offices or cubicles everyday. It was, however, the perfect cover for one of the areas hottest bars.

____________________________________________

The feeling of flight would have been intoxicating, had he not felt as though he drank one too many already. Nausea came over him in waves, but he had nothing to throw up as he had already proven by dry heaving in a corner until he felt as though he would pass out. And upon waking, found that he had. Somewhere along the way the small plane stopped to refuel before lifting back into the sky, the brief intermission enough for Andrew to once again gain his bearings and prepare himself for the last part of the flight to America (or he assumed as much from the labels on the large crates of fruit that creaked against their straps as the plane hit turbulence.) The remaining time in the air was spend with diligent concentration on, one, trying not to vomit his internal organs, and two, trying to think of a way to either explain his appearance in the back of a cargo bay or safely escape unseen. He was hoping for the latter, as he hadn't spoken English in so long that he doubted he could even form a sentence.

The final landing was nothing like what he had prepared for, it wasn't the frantic skipping, hopping, and final slowing of the plane as the last one had been. Instead it was several passes at the runway and the occasional buzz of the ancient radio as the conning tower reported another delay because American Airlines wouldn't get their Boeing off the runway fast enough. After circling for almost 45 minutes, they were finally able to land in what was a silky smooth, textbook-perfect three point landing. As soon as they slowed enough to risk opening the cargo hatch, Andrew was out, his form thin and fleeting across the hot asphalt. Ripples made in the air by the heat rising from the tarmac made him appear faint and dubious, as though the sight of anyone looking his way may be flawed. With due haste he skirted the runway, dodging between large caravans of moving trucks, waiting to load cargo and fuel onto awaiting planes, all unaware to the intruder in their domain.

He had absolutely no idea of where he was, or where he was going to go. Regardless, he dashed through the exits, several people waving fists and cursing at him as he ran past at a clip most people wouldn't dare, especially not with bedroom shoes on. And those did cause some difficulty when he tried to round the corner past the gift shop and instead slipped on the polished floor and plowed into a trash can, knocking it completely over and stunning a small girl whose eyes squinted, then filled with tears as she screamed for her mom. "I don't have time for this!" Andrew grumbled in frustration wasting perfect portuguese on them.

Then he was out on the street. A street as foreign to him as another planet, but yet, so much closer to home than he had been in over four decades. He walked slowly out of the shade of the overhang and looked up at all the buildings around him. The trees, the parking decks, the high rises that shimmered in all of their industrial glory around him, reminding him that this is where he had belonged all along. And this was only a small city, in comparison.

Walking more leisurely along the road he found everyone's attention drawn to him and he shrunk under their stares as they pointed and conversed in chaste tones with covered mouths. His hair was mussed and dirty, dust having taken refuge where there was any to be taken, in his hair, on his skin, the creases in his clothes were filled with it, as the plane seemed to suck it in during takeoff. No amount of cleaning, he imagined, would ever take it out. "Where am I?" The old man just looked at him strangely, apologetically, and continued walking. Another woman steered her child away from him before he even got close enough to ask for help. A man pointed at him while sipping at his cappuccino, talking in loud whispers to his friend.

Everyone wants sincerely to care, but nobody knows quite how to do it. Or at least that was what he wanted to think about the people he encountered on the streets. He walked on for hours, turning onto progressively smaller streets in his attempt to find someone who could help him.

Eventually he found himself, worn to the bone and entirely too dehydrated, lying pathetically in front of a large office building in downtown Atlanta. The sun was just setting and the comforting call to sleep came, maybe even a blissful sleep. One without the terror that awaited with the dawn. "I wonder what's at the bottom of those steps." He mumbled as he slouched further against the rather nondescript concrete of the building. Then sleep took him.

____________________________________________

The day started normally; or as normally as could be expected for a position behind the bar at the prestigious, and whereabouts unlisted, Rivets and Leather bar and lounge. It was a popular hangout for people who were more eccentric than most other bars could provide interest for. However, the suites that occupied it before were not exactly what would be considered a stylish bar. So the whole place had to be gutted before the bar was built, the old office suites were ripped straight down to the floorboards to allow for the lowering of the aforementioned boards and installation of the rustic recycled brick (a reverent allusion to the brew-house it once formed) which on top of, the bar was to be constructed. The lounge looked very much like a street in the town above, if the town above were still in the early 1900's. long and very wide, the room was divided up by gas street lamps that protruded from elegantly bricked rounds from the floor, cast iron wrapped in scrolls, cast buttressed columns, and filigree wherever the inspiration for it hit the artist responsible, as all pieces were unique to this bar. The gas lights were subtly aided by other overhead fixtures, with similar shaped glass. But then there was the bar itself.

The bar was a magnificent and gargantuan undertaking. A single three inch thick slab of granite at least twenty feet long and a full three feet wide, dark as the night, but with flecks of winking mica that caught the light and made small fairy-like constellations under the lamps. This in turn was worked, given several stripes of inlay around the edge in other fine stones. To finish it off, a thin reddish band of copper wound its way around the edge, dipping down into the rope-carved perimeter of the bar. The whole mass kept held aloft by large sculpted mahogany legs, hidden cabinets for the commonly used alcohols, shakers, mixers, blenders, glasses and other useful tools. This would be where Luca spent most of his time, standing behind the bar, a pleasant smile across his creamy features as he surveyed the room. Lounge chairs surrounding the lamps held their fill of people who sipped strong mixed drinks; several of the usuals quickly drained glasses of draft beer at the far end of the bar, atop stools made of the seats from old diesel engine pistons the tops with smoothly worn combustion bores that cradled the seated.

As per usual, the place was comfortably full, most of the customers were regulars. And Luca knew - if not their name - at least what drink they took. So the day wore on, and on. Many gallons of alcohol being dispensed by his hands and into the waiting gullets of many of the city's more 'troubled' people. Not the ones that drank just because they had problems, but because drinking made it easier for them to talk about their problems. And talk they did. Luca, unfortunately, was always the recipient of their pseudo-deep intellectual thoughts on relationships and politics and businesses trying to work against them to take all their money. Yes, he had heard all the conspiracy theories, from the government stealing any spare change in your couch cushions to aliens being the root cause of deja vu. Now he was just hoping that there wasn't a conspiracy between the lot of them to try to drive him insane. He felt very much like an underpaid therapist. But that grew less important as the night dragged on and he tried to coerce the less drunk to help the more drunk outside and up the precariously steep steps onto street level. It was always better to get them out of the bar before the true dark of night fell. It's already hard to negotiate the streets drunk, better not to add sight impairment to the list. It was quite peculiar hours for such a bar, but the bar, he discovered, did not exist for a profit. One day a few years back soon after he was hired, Luca had the opportunity to meet the owner of Rivets and Leather. An immensely wealthy man, the owner was a self-made billionaire who earned his fortunes on the stock market and felt that the mundane life of the upper world needed some place different to assuage it. Because of that, he created the bar.

As Luca managed to herd the cheerful customers out and finish sweeping his station, he heard the last of the management leave, the small brass bell above the door chiming as the coil of wrought iron supporting it shook with his passing. "Finally. I get some time to think." Although of course it would be possible to ignore a few people and spend some quality alone time with one's thoughts, it was hard to ignore several people who all wanted to either ask your opinion, tell you something 'important' or order another drink. By the end of the day, the only thing he wanted was to clean up slowly, drive back home and pass out for a while. And that was exactly what he intended to do when he opened the door and padded up the stairs. Except he couldn't make it very far past the stairs before a dark smudge against the wall drew his attention. It wasn't because the smudge was dark, or because there was someone there within the smudge. The city was fairly large, and had its share of perpetual dark smudges against buildings at night. But the reason of his interest was the size. The person couldn't have been very old and they were pitifully thin and curled tightly into a ball. "What the...?" His eyes adjusted to the waning light and he leaned closer, kneeling next to the body. "Is it still breathing? Let's see..." He drew out his cell phone and clicked a random button, the light from the screen illuminated the face of a frail looking boy, not even into the beginning of adolescence. The young boy’s chest rose and fell slowly. "Damn… who would be cruel enough to leave a kid on the streets like this? Well, at least he's still alive, so that’s something."

The young boy didn't put up a fight, or help at all. Luca gently laid him onto his bike, leaning him against the fuel tank (that was actually a giant battery to fuel the electric motors) with a makeshift pillow made from his jacket, as the boy didn't have anything on but some minty green hospital scrubs stained down the front with what appeared to be blood. He climbed on after making sure that he could keep the other from falling off the bike and carefully leaned the bike out of the alley and back towards his apartment, to carry his new guest up to his abode.

____________________________________________

Luca had little difficulty carrying the frail body of his charge, easing himself into his condo carrying the young boy bridal-style, garnering a few more worried glances and loud whispers from his neighbors, whose noses found their way into too much. Ignoring their overly inquisitive behavior, he shut the door behind him, flicking the bar lock with his shoulder before slipping down the hall towards his bedroom.

"Okay. If you had woken up, I would bother with your name. But since you're still asleep, let's get you cleaned up. Because unfortunately for your modesty, I won't have you dirtying my sheets, Hope you don't mind." He whispered thoughts to himself as water filled the large claw-footed cast-iron tub while he wandered about to find something to dress the boy in. When he came back, not to his surprise, his guest was still asleep and the water was hot. He turned down the temperature, precisely turning the cool knob of the chrome faucet. With the cast iron claw foot tub about a quarter of the way full of warm water, he walked back over to the youth. He leaned the boy gently against his chest and gingerly slipped his hands under the thin cotton garment, sliding them up the boy's sides before quickly undoing the snaps at the back of the shirt and sliding it off of his arms. He then repeated the process with the pants which was a bit more of a chore because he had to lay the kid back down on the dressing bench and bother with lifting his legs to remove his pants. That, however, proved to be less of a concern when Luka finally noticed that they had a series of snaps securing their legs at the sides, making removal a breeze. Looking down, a sculpted eyebrow rose in response. "Well, most people don't go around commando anymore..."

He leaned over the thin frame of the boy, eyeing the apparently fresh incisions on his chest and down his stomach, one forming a 'vee' from both underarms to the solar plexus, then another going from the solar plexus to just above the pelvis. Thin, fresh skin just barely covering the deep incisions, the stitching of the sutures clearly visible and very uniform. The smell of Bactine rose strongly from the young boy’s skin as Luca leaned closer to pick him up again, trying to carry him into the bathroom as appropriately as possible. "I mean, you only look to be ten, maybe eleven. So what happened to you?" Luca's musings fell on deaf ears as his guest continued to sleep soundly in his care. Water sloshed gently as Luca placed him in, the warm liquid reaching the base of the stitches before Luca turned it off. Wary of the fresh wounds, he gently sponged water over his skin, pale skin exposed in streaks. As Luca continued, the pale skin gave way to deep purple bruising, faded tans and nauseating sallow tones around his torso. "What the hell happened to you?" Luca was aghast, eyes wide he gently traced a finger around one of the bruises, the skin was smooth, otherwise perfect save for the deep mottled inflammation and blood pooling beneath the skin. Clearly it was not by accident, because accidents were rough and never left such perfectly tended bruises. Not to mention how he couldn't recall gusseted y-cuts held together with biodegradable glue being on the list of standard procedures at any of the local hospitals. Sometimes it was convenient to have old flames with interesting careers. Ever careful, Luca continued to gently wash him, the water muddying the white enamel of the tub before Luca pulled the drain stopper and turned the water back on. this time through to the shower head, running some water through Andrew's hair he was greeted with a burst of brilliant blond at the removal of the dingy dust, which added a layer of taupe in a film over everything. Finishing up after rinsing away the shampoo, he carefully lifted the boy again, drying him with one hand while holding him, a towel in between, against himself with his other arm. Now was an excellent time to be thankful that the child was so thin, Luca might not have been able to manage this maneuver on a larger body.

Clothing him was interesting, because the first layer was gauze, a very long series of bandages wrapping him from hips to underarms overtop a liberal amount of an antiseptic to prevent infection and scarring. Then he carefully wrapped him in an old robe. A couple sizes too small for himself, Luca had contemplated getting rid of the robe, but now, fluffing it, he couldn't help but think how handy it became. Although quite a bit too large for Andrew still, the belt cinched tight and the fluffy acrylic-based fabric covered him well enough. After tying the bow for the sash, Luca placed him on the guest bed and sat himself into a lounge chair on the other side of the room, to wait while catching up on his latest copy of Scientific American.

____________________________________________

Upon waking, Andrew found a change of scenery, from what he remembered, he had passed out at the top of the steps of an office building, quite the odd place to take a nap. Now he felt a lot better and was sitting up in a large lushly pillow-topped bed. The silken sheets tangled about him as he turned quickly to look around, finally noticing another aspect that had changed. Not only was he in someone else's bedroom, but he was also now dressed in a very soft robe, drawn tight to his waist, but otherwise almost falling off of him. He had also been bandaged.

He shifted and made to slide his legs off to the side of the bed when someone walked in. "Oh, you're awake. How do you feel?" Andrew continued to stare at his new captor, who was significantly more attractive than his last, this one had beautiful copper hair, fair skin and a face that looked at him in restrained concern. "You've been sleeping for almost 14 hours now, at least since I found you." Andrew continued to stare, he couldn't place why he trusted this man at all. "I took the liberty of washing and changing you, I hope you don't mind."

"Umm, no. I guess I don't..." Andrew trailed off as he couldn't stop peering at this new man as he walked carefully to the side of the bed. He had been carrying a brass tray that he placed mindfully on the side table next to the bed, which Andrew now realized was made out of a book, instead of one having been set on top of it.

"Would you care for something to drink, eat?"

"Umm, sure?" He couldn't help but feel cautious. He couldn't remember the last time anyone had cared to ask him if he wanted anything. He noticed a metal dome in the middle of the tray, a glass next to it and a pitcher mirrored on the other side.

"Is milk okay?"

"Sure." For some reason, his mouth had begun to water and he finally realized why. He hadn't eaten or drank anything in at least four days, no wonder he passed out.

Andrew cautiously accepted the glass tumbler full of creamy milk and scooted back against the headboard, drinking greedily.

"Slowly now, or you'll be sick."

After a long pause filled with quiet sucking sounds as Andrew continued to drain the glass until it was completely empty. "Thank you" He just realized that he had been speaking in English the whole time.

"No problem. Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot to introduce myself. I am Luca, Luca Skeil."

"Andrew... I can't remember what my last name is." His face pinched in worry, a careful frown curved the thin skin on his forehead. Tears inexplicably filling his eyes as he puzzled at his last name. For some reason he couldn’t remember anything, his mind felt fuzzy and blank. "I can't remember. I can't remember anything..." And he broke down, tears slipping down his cheeks slowly as his breath hitched while he wept. Luca wrapped his arms around him, pulling him close so that he wept against his chest, face buried into his soft sweaters as he cried his fears out.

"Shh, shh. It'll be okay, everything will be okay." Luca had to turn away. "God, it's like you already know I'm a real pushover when someone starts crying. Now stop, before you get me started on it too." He gently rubbed the boys back as the sobs faded and eventually Andrew let go and sat back with a bit of a thunk against the headboard.

"Ow..."

Breakfast was waffles, now slightly cold.

____________________________________________

Luca watched the young boy as he sat in bed with the breakfast tray standing on folding legs above his lap, awkwardly glancing up at him while he ate while syrup slowly dribbled down his chin, his cheeks stuffed full of sugary waffles. "You can eat slower, I won't take them away from you." He couldn't help the grin that had worked his way across his face as he watched the boy negotiate his food, then gulp down another glass full of milk, it must have been his third.

"Aren't you going to eat something?" Andrew worked out around a mouthful of eggs.

"I don't really think so, no. Because unlike you, who seems to have woken voracious as ever from the dead" Luca joked with the boy playfully, "I've already had three meals today, whereas you have yet to finish one. So I’m just going to try to get you well fed, and we can worry about me later."

Finally finishing a few minutes later, Andrew made to slide off of the bed, and noticed that when the robe slid back he felt the fabric of the sheets smooth against his skin and he looked down to notice that he wore nothing underneath it. He blushed furiously as he made to cover his modesty with his hands and push the robe back down while he slid out of the bed, accidentally falling to his knees, still having not succeeded in re-clothing himself, the fluffy fabric now fully askew, off one shoulder and half on the floor, small hands grasping desperately at it. He looked up with horrible embarrassment painted in deep red across his face. "It's okay, we'll just have to go out and buy you some clothes today", Luca coaxed the robe back around Andrew's shoulders and helped him secure it in the front again, kneeling to his level, he gently ruffled the younger boys hair, letting it linger on the top of his head. "Maybe it's because I'm too nice for my own good, but I'll look after you for now."

"O-okay..." Andrew's reply was timid and he smiled a bit afterward, still flushed from having shown himself in such a way. His ears felt hot and he knew his whole face was red.Luca grinned widely at him in return.

“I do have to ask you though, can you remember at all where you came from? If you’ve just run away then I’m sure your family would want you back…” Luca was trying to be gentle, considering the previous outburst.

“I don’t remember much right now, I don’t know where my family is…” Andrew was fading back into the hollow-sounding tones as before.

“Well then, until we can find out more about what happened to your family, would you like to stay with me?” Luca was trying to be bright, his anxiety about suddenly having a child underfoot was just beginning to build.

“Okay” Andrew was yawning widely now that he had something on his stomach, and he slipped slowly beneath the covers as Luca reached over quickly to grab the tray.

“I guess some more rest is in order before we get started settling you in, huh?” Luca asked as he wandered over to the light switch by the door, gently clicking it off with the edge of the tray.

“Uh huh” came the mumbled reply from the bed.

“Good night, Andrew.” Luca walked out of the room quietly and settled on the couch in the living room with his laptop to do some research.

"Now, what to do first?" Luca stood rapidly and began pacing slowly back and forth, ticking things off on his fingers. Andrew had finished eating another platter full of breakfast foods that Luca had carried in when he awoke the next morning. "We need to get you some clothes that fit. Then I guess we should get you a haircut as well, that style could use a bit of help. Then I guess we could go shopping for stuff to eat." He smiled at the younger boy who was attempting to crawl out of the bed.

"Ugh, please. Give me a bit. My stomach is so full that I don't even want to think about food for a while." The blond said around a grin as Luca finished his pacing to stand in front of him.

"Oh we are going to get on famously." He grinned a devilish smirk at the boy and helped him out of the bed, coaxing him to movement again seemed to work quite well as the boy walked quickly over to the bathroom and quickly shut the door. "Oh, okay... Um, clothes should certainly come after that then." Luca left the room quickly to rummage about through some old clothing that he stored away for some mysterious reason he’d forgotten, coming across another artifact of his old stuff. A soft coat, similar to a pea coat, but with a very large belt of fabric around the waist, which would come in handy with Andrew's thin waist. The boy would be very difficult to fit clothes for if the children's clothes nowadays were anything like his clothes had been at the time. “When you get done,” Luca called through the door, “wash your hands and come out here so we can get something clothes-like on you.”

"Wait..." Luca stared at Andrew as the boy shrugged off the shoulders of the bath robe. It took him a moment to realize what was different. "What happened to the injuries on your chest and stomach?" He walked closer and knelt down to get a better view. "I mean, yesterday you had these really nasty looking bruises and cuts held together with stitching and glue, but today... Nothing." He gently poked the boy's stomach but instead of the boy cringing in pain he flinched away with a smile growing across his features. Luca had great difficulties resisting the urge to see what the kids face looked like while being ticked, he bet it'd be hilarious.

The question of how his injuries had so rapidly vanished didn’t leave Luca’s mind for days, but he finally decided that it didn’t really matter, as long as Andrew didn’t have any lasting problems from them.

____________________________________________

The preeminent problem, Luca thought as they rode the motorcycle down the boulevard, was that he had no idea how hard it would be to find affordable clothes for the child. They made it to the mall, the young boy once again in shades of red as his face lit up from being pressed against Luca during such a long ride while being in a compromising position from having no pants. He pulled the jacket low as Luca placed him back on the ground, as though trying to make up for the incident that morning by stretching the fabric as low as possible. Before long they were both traipsing through the doors, Inset within the large ornate plastered facade for the mall, their first stop: Macy's.

As they walked into the mall, Andrew's face lifted, eyes peering up at all the signs and the myriad of shops and shoppers running about trying their best to get the post-thanksgiving sales, it was the middle of fall after all, and everyone was in want to avoid being a 'procrasta-santa'. But they didn't matter to Luca as he pushed through them and into the store, wandering a bit through the perfume section and men's shoes before finally arriving at the children's section. Finally he found himself looking at underwear. Obviously this was no time to allow his complexion to get the one-up on his hair. There were so many kinds though. Printed briefs, regular, colored, boxer-briefs, outright boxers in every size and color and print. He scarcely enjoyed having to shop for his own undergarments, much less a child’s. But needs must. "Well... let's see if an employee has a tape measure..." Luca mumbled as he looked around over the racks for said employee, finally finding a sweet looking middle aged woman smiling at a family as they waved goodbye, leaving with their purchases. He flagged her over and asked if she had a measure and she, as a perfect example of helpfulness, produced one from the many pockets on her apron. After using it to measure Andrew's waist, the whole time the little boy looked at him in a strange mix of embarrassment and restraint as he tried not to move very much. It seemed that Andrew was not yet comfortable with such protracted periods of physical contact. With all the measurements done Luca grabbed down a package of plain white briefs, yanking open the bag and pulled one out, much to the chagrin of the employee who still looked on "Don't worry, I'm buying these," he consoled her as he led Andrew through the racks of fall-colored clothes towards the dressing rooms. Conveniently there was a family dressing room, a quartered off section with a small antechamber for the family to wait as the other tried on their clothes, it also worked great for those trying on more risqué varieties of undergarments. Meaning that this probably wasn't always the children's section.

Andrew went in a tried them on, Luca tossing a few pants over the door as well for him to try on. But when Andrew opened the door, Luca failed miserably at hiding the grin that split on his face, he chuckled a bit as the young boy came out and modeled his underwear in the mirror, looking at himself from different angles to try to see if they fit. "On the bright side, they fit great" Luca spoke between gasps as the laughter overtook him.

"What?" Andrew couldn't see why he was laughing so much, even though it was a quiet, restrained laughter.

"It's because you are supposed to try them on with pants, not just the underwear. Besides, what happened to the shy kid I was dealing with earlier?"

Andrew turned and looked at him with wide eyes and an innocent smile "Oh, but I didn't know you then. It's different now."

"How is it different?"

Andrew scuffled back into the stall and slipped on a nice pair of jeans; dark skinny jeans that, at the time, Luca found amusing, since a few years before all children's clothes were of horrid fashion sense. After a bit he emerged and showed off his new clothes, which fit him quite well, the low rise pants gently hugging his hips which poked further out than his waist. "I like them" Andrew said proudly showing off the front of the pants that had a striking crossed whisker pattern lightly bleached into the deep navy denim.

"I'm glad, so now we need to get a few more pairs of pants with the same cut and try to find you some shirts, and a jacket... And maybe some shoes." The shoes weren't an afterthought, just said as they passed some nice shirts, which Andrew was looking intently at.

"Can I have them?" He asked quietly from his spot behind Luca's left hand.

"Oh, why not? It isn't like you pick up a stray every day and decide to take it clothes shopping.” Luca was beside himself as he watched the wonder in the youth’s eyes. “Besides, I think a pretty blue would look good on you."

"I'm not a dog or something like that."

"Nope, when I picked you up you looked much worse off than most stray dogs I've seen."

"Oh." Andrew quickly changed the subject. "Then the blue one would be nice, and purple too, and how about some of those shirts over there?" Andrew pointed at the printed t-shirts, the slim cut ones which always seemed to have brighter and more vibrant prints on them.

"Okay, let's go pick some out."

So they found clothes, a small mountain forming in the corner that Luca was eyeing warily, tallying in his head the amount that they were reaching, which would eat up his thanksgiving bonus. But it would be okay. He was taking care of a needy child after all, who was lost and couldn't remember anything. He had even checked to see if there were any missing children with his description, or hospital patients that got out. There were none. Luckily he didn’t have any immediate plans for the bonus, and his boss did believe in paying his employees well.

Finally they made it to the coat rack, and Andrew's eyes locked onto one coat. A light warm-grey wool-cashmere blend pea coat with a faux fur lined collar that surrounded the neck. The dark military style buttons down the front glinted as Andrew ran his hand down the front of it. "I want this one."

"Right." Luca was less sure as he picked up a coat in Andrew's rather petite size and looked it over, the thing was luckily on a rather good sale, so he could afford it with relative ease, and he eyed the dry clean only tag carefully, it was just below the 'Made in South Korea' tag. "I have no idea how sales like this one exist." He mumbled as he recalled the price of the last coat he bought for himself.

Luca walked a very happy boy out of the mall, now dressed in an outfit made from some of their many purchases. They had just started to walk away when a wave of fatigue hit the boy, who had been going hard, shopping for almost six hours now with only a short interruption for lunch. Luca just managed to get the boy laid against a cushion of the clothes purchases placed on the tank of his bike before he heard soft snores echoing off the domed metal.

They just made it to the small barber shop before it started to close, Andrew looked up strangely at Luca as they pulled up, the sudden stop jolting him out of his reverie. Luca was smirking crookedly at him. "But you need a haircut, badly." Luca tried to convince him.

"But I don't want one! I don't like haircuts." He was pouting, lower lip sticking out with a determined frown and knitted brow. "I don't want to." Luca hadn’t seen him act this blatantly immature in the entirety of the 13 or so hours of their waking acquaintance.

"I don't care, that is one of the many things you need to get taken care of, so we're getting it done now, so hurry up before he closes shop."

Only a small struggle ensued, resulting in a slightly disheveled Andrew being pulled through the door and set down in the stylist chair. The stylist made quick work of getting an apron on him and settling into work, having already been briefed earlier with a phone call describing what Luca wanted to see done with his guests' hair. And so it was, the young barber pushed back his own dark hair on occasion as it drifted into his eyes, those brown eyes focused on creating art with the razor he held in hands. Worn smooth from continued use and a goodly deal of abrasion, it was what tipped Luca off that he wasn't your usual barber. And that is why Luca trusted him to take care of his and now Andrew's hair. Andrew looked over at him, a tearful expression in his eyes a frown twitching at the corners of his mouth. He looked as if he had been betrayed.

"I'm sorry." Luca mouthed over to him as he tried not to go over and comfort the boy, trying to get this done faster. And done it was, the last few strokes were taken care of and a quick sweep through with pomade left his hair supple and lightly fluffed.

"Now was that all that bad?" Luca asked, as they walked out of the shop, Andrew sucking sorrowfully on a lollipop given him by the stylist as he rang them up.

"No..." He sniffled as Luca placed him back on the bike again and took the now barren lollipop stick from Andrew before he leaned against him, his arms slowly wrapping around to grasp the handlebars, then the quiet whir of motors and they were off, back to the condo.

"Let's go home." Luca said with a tired smile that perked the corners of his lips.

"Home..." Andrew drifted off to sleep long before they made it back.

____________________________________________

Andrew woke up to find everything around him still dark, the morning not yet lit with the rising sun. And he had to pee, badly. He wandered quickly down the hall, bare feet making small dull slapping sounds on the floor as he found the guest bath. Feeling much better now that he had taken care of that problem. Then he realized that he was once again dressed in the oversized robe, this time covered by a new pair of his favorite underwear, bright turquoise blue boxer-briefs. He smiled down at them, glad that they had purchased that package, and not remembering when he changed into them.

But that was minor details he thought as he walked back down the hall to his room, feeling carefully along the wall, hand grasping at the chair-rail. He tried to lay down and fall back asleep, tried everything he could think of to lull himself back to sleep. Eventually the sheep had gotten too tired, themselves, to jump over the fence and were herded on one side of it staring blankly at him and bleating on occasion. "Urgh, what do I have to do to sleep?" So he got up again, padding gently down the hall this time, down to Luca's room, which he went quietly into.

Luca blinked awake to feel another presence there with him in bed, the folds of his otherwise tight t-shirt were wrapped around a small pair of hands, which were gently pressed against his chest, a shock of blond hair close to his chin appeared as a ray of light filtered through the window, past the heavy shades and shutters. "Andrew?" He questioned peering down at the smaller body close beside him.

"Hmmm, mm..." Andrew wasn't awake, and it appeared that he didn't want to be. Which was fine, he guessed, because Luca glared at the alarm clock on the adjoining bookshelf that read 6:03 am. He looked down at the boy who had rolled over and gently wrapped his arms around him, pulling him into a gentle embrace. The stare to which Andrew responded by snuggling closer. "Whatever." Luka mumbled with a slight shrug as they returned to the land of sleep, the land of dreams.

Andrew found himself in the warm embrace of a larger set of cream colored arms, wrapped ever so gently around him. He smiled as he remembered to who they belonged and sat up, taking care not to wake the sleeping man next to him, but when he turned to look at him he found a pair of green eyes peering at him instead. "I was already awake." Luca whispered to him as he followed suit and leaned up, sliding his legs out over the edge of the bed and standing up. Andrew watched as he walked down the small hall to his private bath and closed the door. Luca was very... ...pretty, Andrew thought carefully as he watched the back of his caretaker, long hair currently restrained by a small rubber band in the back, the bangs tamed by a few clips to keep them off of his face as he slept. The sound of the shower running followed soon after. Andrew kept pondering Luca even after the noise of the shower ended and the door opened. His body was thin, but not unnaturally so, and his hips moved gently back and forth as he walked back, a towel now wrapped gently about his waist.

"You need to shower." Luca said sternly, standing in front of Andrew with his arms crossed in front of him. He was well aware of how to deal with children it seemed.

"But I don't like them!"

"Doesn't matter, I will not have you sleeping with me if you smell bad."

"But, but... I tried to sleep, and I couldn't..."

"I understand, but you still need to bathe."

"Urgh... I don't wanna!"

"Go. Now. Or would you rather I have to take care of it?"

Andrew flushed crimson and shook his head, shuffling slowly, sullenly; resigned to a hot steaming shower. He had gotten in there and was running the water and contemplating when Luca's voice cut back in through the fog "Make sure you use soap!"

The day went along as well as it could have, Luca and Andrew shared a, frankly, massive recliner munching on popcorn through the afternoon while a series of movies played through on television. One of the few things that Luca preferred from the current generation. And he had, of course, splurged on a large high definition flat panel, mounted tidily in a small alcove. Luca had begun to wonder if the boy would ever move when his own alarm went off, rousing him from his lazy-day stupor to go ready himself for work.

"Is it 6 o'clock already? Really? Oh, well... Andrew, would you like to stay here alone or would you like to come with me to work, at the bar?"

Andrew's reply was to get up and clutch Luca's arm tight. "Okay then. Well you need to get dressed, I'll help you with your hair and then we will be off. Andrew was shedding his robe as he ran down the hall to his room.

"God, that boy... I'll have to work on him." Luca chuckled to himself as he watched Andrew come out of the bedroom again with his arms in the wrong sweater holes in his rush the jeans had made it on backwards and not buttoned. Andrew's face was tinged again with embarrassment, as he had tried to dress too quickly and made a mess of it. "Come here, let me fix it."

They rode the bike again to the bar, although it was close enough to walk, Andrew had suggested they take it, enjoying the feeling of going so fast, seeing all the buildings around him, being pressed so close to the warm, soft Leather of Luca's riding jacket. Within minutes they were there, turning off of the side street and onto the boulevard where Rivets and Leather called home. "Here we are!" Luca announced, holding the bike up with his legs allowing Andrew to lean up; gripping the handlebar for support as he dangled his legs a bit, unable to touch the ground. They got off and went inside where Luca proceeded to introduce him to the staff working tonight, Andrew couldn't remember any of their names, but they were interesting enough to look at. One had jet black hair cut into a tight crop, a large amount of gel holding tight spikes, a few other spikes finding their way as jewelry on his eyebrow, lip, and nose. Another woman had fairly long hair done into a dramatic updo, all shimmering shades of blond, her figure accented nicely with a corseted evening gown hailing turn of the century styling, exorbitant amounts of tulle keeping the dress puffed about her as she walked away with a dramatic swing of her hips. "Don't worry too much about her, she may act all high and mighty, but she doesn't hold up in a serious conversation." Luca whispered quietly behind her back when she was out of earshot. The next man was in his forties, at least, with a bit of salt and pepper on his temples, hair slicked back to conform to his tuxedo and dish towel. He was a butler, perhaps, he had the two gold watch chains to match his lapel and cuff links. Finally there was Luca who himself was dressed in a very nice button down shirt, starched and pressed into points with a pinstriped grey vest tight around his middle. He eschewed the use of a tie in favor of a cravat, tied into a simple, but elegant knot that afforded him a waterfall of silk. A pair of dress pants and accessories of a gold monocle to match his cuff links and watch chain as well.

"Now, don't anyone try to pull anything on him, if you do, it'll be the end of you." Luca warned, a grave tone for his otherwise melodious voice.

"But you're not even management! Who do you think you are to be making threats?" The blond retorted, smug in her analysis of rank and threats. However this was refuted bluntly by a quick slicing motion across his throat as Luca glared over at her.

"And I don't make threats, I make promises."

Everything was going all too smoothly. Andrew was sitting almost comatose listening to a mixture of the old giant tube radio in the corner, gossip from the usual noisy bunch in the back who were too inebriated to realize they were practically screaming at each other, and the sound of shakers as the bartenders mixed drinks for their patrons. Luca all the while kept looking over, quick glances and smiles that Andrew was coming to appreciate as he felt more and more alone over there in the large lounge chair. Then the Grandfather clock tolled, loud and ominous from the other side of the room. It hadn't tolled the whole night and had been known not to toll for months at a time as it hadn’t for a few weeks already. So it was a surprise, followed by disaster as Luca glanced over at Andrew to find him crying loudly in his chair, he slid to the floor, palms pressed tight against his eyes, a quiet sob echoing through the room to hit Luca's ears and it pained him. He lunged around the bar and swept the boy up, arms tight against his back as he held him, rocking and swaying as he walked over to and sat down in a chair to hold him. "Everything will be okay, I won't let anything happen to you." Andrew continued to shake as the tears flowed silently out of him, seemingly out of his control.

____________________________________________

Luca noticed over the passing weeks that Andrew was not quite as stable as he seemed. He could be walking down the hall smiling like a fool and a second later a look of pure fear stricken across his face, and Luca would have to go over and pick him up and cradle him gently in his arms whispering gentle nothings into his ears. Then Andrew would sleep for a few hours and wake, happy again as if nothing had happened, the memory once again locked away deep in its hiding place far away from the outside world.

But he had decided taking Andrew to work might not be the best choice. Not to mention that management now thought Luca might be a danger to the other employees. Lucky him. "Good thing they can't find anyone good enough to replace me, or I'd have been gone long ago." He whispered to himself as he poured some milk into a glass, the cool opacity of the liquid soothing as he stared at it briefly before taking a long sip. Enjoying the feeling as the fluid meandered its way down his throat, spreading like an icy wave through his body. It helped to quench his frustration at his less intelligent coworkers, and return him to normalcy. He had his other hand outstretched with another glass full as Andrew walked over.

Before long, it was time for bed. Like every other night, Luca changed clothes, pinned his hair back from his face (he discovered that his complexion appreciated it) and brushed his teeth before falling back into bed. He was asleep within seconds and slept soundly until he felt the brush of soft hair against his face. Sniffling as he sat up he felt forward gently grasping an arm, then his hand moved up to a shoulder, and a cheek, finally finding home to ruffle the hair of the little boy who had snuck back into his room. "I couldn't sleep." Andrew explained cautiously as he snuggled closer again, an approving arm thrown around his middle as Luca settled back into a restful position.

____________________________________________

Before he knew it, Andrew had been with him for almost a year, and it was Christmas Eve. Not that Andrew would let him forget it. This reminder was, of course, not for the normal reasons. Andrew simply disliked the whole concept of Santa Claus.

"There's no way he'd be able to go around the world in a whole night. Plus, would you really want an overweight bearded man plundering through your house? I mean, I don't really care about the presents anyway. I mean, I just don't like it."

There was no convincing the boy, and Luca had long given up on it, instead determined to have a small mountain of presents waiting under the tree, and one very special one buried in the tree itself. And when the day rolled around both of them woke at their normal time, Andrew having found his way on top of Luca and had his hand covering Luca's face, a foot in his knee and an elbow against his arm. Sleeping with a child was dangerous to your well-being. But when Andrew finally remembered what day it was he kind of groaned a bit. He knew Santa - even if he did exist - wouldn't visit him. He hadn't been nearly good enough. But he got up anyway, because Luca had tenderly slid him off of the bed to land with a quiet thunk on the plush rug covering the wooden floor. Luca rose as well and wandered into the great room, where Andrew stood dumbfounded at the assortment of sizes and shapes and wrapping papers on the mound of presents slowly engulfing the tree. "They're yours" Luca assured him as Andrew looked up with uncertainty. "But I haven't been good enough..." He protested weakly, as he went forward and read the label on one, the silver swirls and leaves on the label covered with a “to” and a “from”; to Andrew, from Luca. And a smile quickly replaced the doubt on his face and he tore through the many shades of green brown red and gold wrapping paper with equal ferocity looking at a mélange of video game consoles and games, toys and action figures, more clothes and accessories, and even a few books to read through. But it was the last present that Luca had to point him to, his finger showing a line into the green needles of the large Douglas fir tree, to a hefty envelope, sealed with a rather official label: To Luca Skeil, from the US Dept. of Child Services and Legal Aid. Andrew looked up at Luca and smiled broad, tears glistened at the corners of his bright blue eyes and streamed down his face, and Luca knelt quickly as Andrew ran towards him into a tight embrace. "I have legal custody of you, and nobody will ever take you away from me."

There had always been that lingering suspicion that Andrew held that this life was too good and that all of a sudden someone would appear from nowhere and take it away. Luca was all too familiar with it, because Andrew talked in his sleep. Just a quiet mumble, but it was enough for Luca to understand his worries. Usually it was silly things like burnt toast and being naked at the mall, but it began to change after he broke down in the Rivets and Leather. It got more troublesome as well, as it broke his heart that Andrew thought he would ever let anything happen to him. And now, there was no legal way anything could happen to him.

That evening he found himself with a lap full of a very content Andrew who had re-found a peppermint flavored lollipop. He favored the swirled red and white candy on a stick over the usual crooks of sugar. And before long, Luca was holding a slightly gnawed paper stick and had a sleeping boy sprawled across his lap, head rested in the crook of his arm. For some reason, regardless of how many pillows he laid out of every size shape and texture, Andrew seemed willing to trade all of them to have him as a pillow.

____________________________________________

"What a life..." Luca groaned quietly as he turned over to face the greeting of gentle waves of energy, wafting through to wake him for the day. Andrew, on the other side, was still fast in the clutches of what could only be assumed as a pleasant dream by the smile still wide across his face. Luca couldn't help but wish that it could go on like this forever. The day was the same perfection as the morning. Lounging about lazily for the better part of the afternoon, sitting in a quaint looking cafe that happened to have one of the best cups of espresso this side of Italy, as Luca had discovered several years ago. Now he sat in his favorite spot, a chocolate colored couch with its back to the window, the warmth of the light warming your back as the coffee warmed the tongue. Or maybe it was the soul that the espresso warmed, because he always felt better, lighter after the rich beverage. The smell of quality ingredients just over top of the smell of fresh baked pastries. Like grandma's house if your grandmother was Italian.

The walls were a beautiful antique cream with long crackles running through the plaster where age was allowed to show, the cracks already sealed with a clear varnish. The shop never seemed to be full, but it was mainly because there was so much business with the business folk. People who enjoyed coming in for short durations, soon finding that their over-filled schedule necessitated that their coffee be to go. "Ah, if not for the simple pleasures in life, what would life be worth?" Musings whispered into the creamy froth of his beverage as he took another sip. Andrew was currently trying his best to occupy the space beneath Luca, and was still failing. His own hot chocolate was forgotten long ago, after the sweet biscotti was dipped in and devoured, small crumbs littering the napkin laid out on the small round table. "What? What is so important about where I'm sitting?" Luca asked, slightly peeved that Andrew was so stubbornly trying to take over his seat. Which halted immediately with the question. "I dunno..." He trailed off, eyes sliding to the side to look back over at the entrance to the cafe where two large men had cast a long shadow into the shop. They peered through the glass, looking quickly around the cafe before walking silently away. Apparently they had seen all they needed to.

For some reason the feeling that they were being watched remained for the duration of the day, satisfactorily ruining it. With each turn it felt like there were eyes hidden everywhere: watching, staring, waiting for them. But he couldn't let that bother him. So he went to work as usual, keeping Andrew behind the bar this time, so he was always close by, sitting on a stool talking to the nicer people that Giovanni happened to serve. Giovanni was an excellent friend to have, his stature was a large one to bear, though. He stood well above Luca's head and his salt and pepper hair, slicked back to fit his uniform did little to hide the fact that he would have been a prized fighter at any ring. Needless to say, he was a person you wanted to be liked by, the alternate could be painful. But Giovanni enjoyed the company of Luca and Andrew, as he talked animatedly with the young boy, showing him how to properly pour the water over the absinthe spoon and into the green liquid all the while explaining the history and inner workings of the green fairy. Not that he would ever give the boy any of it. This was a learning experience of the good kind, not of the variety that would leave one visiting the porcelain gods. Luca had remembered his twenty-first birthday, and that night did not bring back pleasant memories. However, despite the lingering doubts, nothing out of the ordinary happened. People came to get drink, people drank, they left and the shop closed up and cleared out.

"Everything according to plan." The stern tone of the voice translating straight through the cell phone he was using.

"Good, when should I hope to see a return on my investment?" The voice was odd and strained. Aged and disused, except on the certain rare occasions where the need should arise to speak, instead of the silence of his work.

"Tonight."

____________________________________________

Luca wasn't a paranoid person. He instead thought about it as being well prepared for any adverse situation. Which is why he kept a large store of water and provisions in his rather large pantry, and an inordinately large cache of ordinance. "Just in case." He had explained to the clerk at the local gun store when he went in to purchase several weapons on his twenty-first birthday. Also the same day he had gotten his permit to own them in the first place. He was a bit of a gun aficionado, as he was a motorcycle fanatic and a connoisseur of fine beverages. He did enjoy the guns though; a little too much, perhaps, suggested the range officer at the police academy shooting range. Even through the ear muffs he could hear Luca's mild laughter as he squeezed even more rounds through the chamber of his favored Ruger. The Ruger SR-556U6.8 was one of his favorite guns, a combat-ready gun that was not only plenty accurate at 100 yards, but if the conditions were right, it could shoot further still with incredible firepower. He had already expended quite the tidy sum to acquire the flat black weapon, and had filled its many accessory rails with laser sights, a Swarovski scope with generation two night vision and a combat light. Everything to eliminate unwanted pests in the night, he commented as he held it in the store. He picked up the Desert Eagle as well, saying something to the somewhat startled employee about overly large rats.

He had never seriously considered needing the weapon until that night. He had gone to sleep with the sinking suspicion that something would happen, pulling the soft purple comforter higher while trying to ignore the unsettling sensation. And he had finally succeeded when a soft thunk and a creak outside the door alerted him to someone's presence outside. It was definitely not a sound that would wake a normal person from a dead sleep, as it hadn't even phased the boy next to him. So he slid silently out of bed and grabbed for the cold metal in the drawer of his nightstand, retrieving it he walked to the door and peered through one of the many windows at the men from before. Large and menacing, their hair was cropped very short and covered for the most part by skull-caps, their eyes peered out from under the short bill at the door, their arms giving away their intentions.

And Luca unloaded the cylinder of his Desert Eagle through the door. The rounds would perform lethally regardless of the AK-47's that the men had hidden across their chests. The .50 caliber rounds of lead were specially designed fused metal alloy which broke apart upon impact, scattering while still traveling at immense speed to deliver a punishing blow to whomever was unfortunate enough to be on the wrong side of the muzzle. Unsuited toward armored targets, it scarcely mattered at that range.

The oak door splintered around the holes and Luca slid it open to assess the damage. Except that where he expected to see two bodies bleeding out on the welcome mat, he saw instead a sheet of crisp white paper and a large puddle of blood that trailed momentarily down the hall before disappearing.

"We know you have him." The note read, and a chill pushed like waves of ice water over Luca as he read it again and again. "And we won't stop until he is returned."

"There is a slight change of plans.” The first voice was more gruff, a tinge of pain mingled in to make the words sound strained. "Tomorrow, possibly. We weren't aware he was armed."

"Just a change of tactic, nothing I haven't prepared you for." The voice still sounded of age, the garbled sounds of disuse smoothed out now, replaced instead with a scholarly tone.

"Right, tomorrow then Doctor."

____________________________________________

"I knew this would come in handy..." Luca mused as he walked back into the condominium, he looked over at the door, which hung precariously loose on its hinges and frowned. He wouldn't get along with housekeeping for a while he guessed. They were in charge of exterior things, and most of the door was now littered there in little splinters of wood.

 

2: Alive is easier

Chapter 2: alive is more convenient

 

“… We the court have found the defendants Tomás and Antonio Rodrigues, aged nineteen, guilty on the charges of…” The judge paused a moment to take a breath and adjust the thin reading glasses perched on the end of a long nose. “… Three counts of first degree murder, one count of second degree murder, four counts of manslaughter, aiding and abetting a criminal, multiple counts of theft as well as trespassing.” The judge sighed, and raised the gavel slightly as he prepared to make the sentencing proclamation. “For your crimes within the country of Brazil, you are to be sentenced to death by lethal injection on the date July 21, 1974. This date is two weeks from today.” The sharp, resonant thumping of the gavel sounded the end of the sentencing as the bailiff hustled the two defendants out of the courtroom to be placed under protective custody during their transport to a high security prison for their holding.

Tomás glanced over at his brother who sat stoically in the seat on the other side of the car from him. Antonio was staring out the window of the car as they began to pull away from the curb. His dark brown eyes were still tinged around the edges with pink from where the two had spent a fair portion of the night coming to terms with their fate. Now they looked very hollow. His skin, which was normally the color of almonds had a distinct grey hue cast over it, and his long black hair was matted and kinked where normally it was a mass of glossy waves that hung to his shoulders. “What do you think? Do you think we can make an escape this time?” Tomás whispered to his brother, his voice shook with uncertainty.

“I don’t know. We’ve never been locked down this tight before.” Antonio closed his eyes and scrubbed at them with his palms. “We also don’t have the support of the cartel anymore. They said if we screwed it up this time, that they were going to disown us.” He put his hands down and turned slightly to look at his brother. “I don’t think—” his breath came shakily as he tried to calm himself. “I don’t think we can just get out of it this time.” Antonio might have seen the despair on the other boys face if he hadn’t closed his eyes again.

Tomás watched the roads pass by through his window, staring at his own reflection. Unlike Antonio, he had short, dark brown hair that was stained with spots of crusted blood from the beating that the guards delivered with gusto. His cheek was in the process of swelling and his light brown eyes were having a tougher time trying to stay open as a black eye attempted to close one, and a chipped brow and cheek bone bled internally to make his other lid feel equally heavy. One of the guards had used a weighted baton to dish out blows, after being smashed in the face with it, Tomás had taken much pleasure in pulling the garrote wire taught around the man’s neck, watching as his three other companions stared on with wide eyes as the head lolled to one side and blood sprayed out from the deep incision in a wide arc. Antonio had taken this pause to eliminate two of the others with swift chops from a utility axe. The device was designed for breaking into buildings, and as a self-defense weapon in war zones. He found that a single strike to the back of the head produced adequate results. Unfortunately, by that time, the police arrived with plenty of backup, surrounding the entire block. Capture was… … inevitable.

“I hope you’re wrong about it this time.” Tomás mumbled, mostly to himself. Antonio wasn’t often wrong.

The car screeched loudly as the brakes protested the officers attempt to use them as they finally pulled into the processing center for the penitentiary. “Come on you two, time to get you sorted.” The cop dragged Tomás out of the car before another officer grabbed Antonio from the other side of the car. Both were paraded through the lobby and into the antechamber for the processing ward. The ward included a shower with an adjoining room for changing clothes. Antonio looked at it carefully. He supposed it would also serve as a decent place for the cops to frisk them for anything they might have smuggled in. “This isn’t going to be very pleasant.” He whispered roughly to his brother.

____________________________________________

As per usual, his brother’s intuition proved spot on when the guards stripped them down and one particularly unpleasant woman walked over. “Time for the cavity search” she droned, her voice grating through the air to their ears. The brothers shared similar looks of disgust as the woman donned a pair of elbow-length gloves.

The cavity search had left both men feeling very insecure about themselves, but the fact that  they were immediately shaved practically bald, then tossed roughly into a shower simply added insult to their injured backsides. After being generally abused during their reception and admission, the boys were loath to spend much energy doing anything but plot an escape once they were finally contained in their cell. A single guard was stationed in the corridor that housed their cell, which didn’t seem nearly adequate enough considering the high-security status of the prisoners being held. “I suppose the assault weapon makes up for not hiring more people” Antonio muttered to himself as he watched the man sit back down and settle his weapon across his lap. He was about to say more when the guard looked up at something at the opposite end of the corridor, the surprisingly solid walls of the cell made it impossible to see what the guard was looking at.

“I’m glad I made it before the execution. I’ve already lost several promising subjects that way. The government is usually loath to listen to my demands, but it seems I’ve made it through to them this time.”

The brothers looked at each other warily before turning to look back at the obviously strange individual that had wandered up to their cell.

“I can’t count the number of times I’ve explained to them that it is very difficult to raise the dead.” The older man complained to himself. His voice was surprisingly strong for an elderly man, and his back was held perfectly straight as he folded his hands onto a brass-handled cane. “I see some form of introduction is in order then. I can’t have you just staring at me like a couple of fish, now can I?” The old man’s voice was becoming smoother as he spoke, the faint whine and grating fading until he sounded like a professor lecturing his unruly and inattentive students.

“You may call me the doctor, or just doctor. I would give you my actual name, but it is unimportant; and quite frankly, I don’t trust you.” The old man tapped his cane loudly on the floor, a few sparks alighting as the iron cap on the base struck the reinforced concrete of the floors. The guard jumped to attention as the doctor turned to face him.

“I want them shackled and placed in my vehicle.” The order hung in the air for a moment while the guard processed it.

“But I can’t do that!” He whispered harshly at the man. “I don’t have the authority to release prisoners, especially ones being kept under maximum security. Do you even know what these guys did?” The guard was visibly paler as he tried to keep his voice from growing louder.

“Obviously I know what they’ve done. I’ve got their file, which is why I requested them. I’ve also got a signed release form from the warden for them to be released into my custody.” The doctor flapped his hand at the guard before producing said document from within his coat. “We have come to an agreement that they will be just as well off as one of my research subjects.” The icy smile that the doctor gave off comforted no one.

____________________________________________

To their obvious surprise the men were in fact released into the doctor’s custody, although he still required the cuffs that ran infuriatingly between their wrists and ankles. It wasn’t that the cuffs were heavy, just that they were incredibly inconvenient because they made it impossible to lift your arms above waist height. After being re-shackled, the guard led them out to a waiting car. The machine was sleek and refined, low to the ground with gently curving fenders and a large, prominent chromed grille placed in shining contrast to the black paint. Another man, shorter by several hands than the doctor, stood by the car. As they approached, the man walked over and opened the rear suicide doors for them to step into the waiting interior. The smell of the man’s citrus pomade wafted past their noses before being covered by the comforting scent of leather. The boss had a soft spot for leather furniture and cars with fancy leather interiors. Tomás found the smell incredibly nostalgic, despite the rather short time away from their mob brethren, and sank gratefully into the upholstery. Antonio settled into the bench beside him, but stared suspiciously at the doctor as he sat in the front seat. The old man turned slightly and caught his eye. A small amount of crinkling about the eye showed traces of a smirk on his face before he turned forward again.

“That is Juan. A dull name around these parts, I know, but he is good help. I suppose you could call him a butler.” The doctor stated, still staring ahead as the butler began driving the car out of the compound. The butler game them appraising glances but didn’t show any other expression before setting in for the drive. Only the gentle snick of gears meshing together interrupted the silence as they rode along.

“Wha- What kind of research will we be participating in?” Antonio finally asked, his voice cracking slightly as he leaned forward, trying to see the expression on the older man’s face. Antonio had a somewhat peculiar habit of reading people by their expressions, so not being able to see them was making him nervous. He had gotten close to the Boss by being able to tell when someone was lying, and not being able to see their expressions made that task very difficult indeed.

“That is hardly the first question that would come to mind,” The doctor replied briskly, “so I feel compelled to compliment you on it.” the crinkling seemed to have returned. “To put it simply, I was hoping to see if the use of twins in my biological enhancement studies would product different results. Unfortunately, I do not often have access to twins, identical or otherwise. So I have been forced to use you two; despite the fact that you are fraternal and not, in fact, identical.” The man sighed lightly before returning to his speech. “I was hoping to test whether twins had a parapsychological connection, and whether it could be strengthened to influence other constructs.”

“You mean like… … telekinesis?” Antonio was going out on a limb with his guess, while his brother just stared without much understanding. Antonio remembered the many nights he spent before his entrance into the mob, watching old sci-fi and horror films at the discount cinema and reading books about ghosts and vampires, chupacabra and more technical things such as the analysis and explanation behind psi-phenomena. The last book he found as he was studying to enter university. Before his parent’s death, he and his brother both had upstanding ambitions to be successful men. But when the mob wants to take your house because they financed a loan for someone when the bank refused to, what choice do you have but to join them when they make you the offer in exchange.

“You want to poke around in our brains to see if we can control things with our minds?” Antonio probed further, his expression listless with disbelief.

“Exactly.” The doctor was actually smiling now. It still looked out of place.

____________________________________________

After a few hours, the car pulled up to a large manor, the tires crunching lightly over the packed gravel drive. Antonio stared out the window, ogling the large brick building that they approached. The manor featured a surprising amount of curves in its structure, bowed walls and round turrets crowned with overlapping slate tiles, forming a rather peculiar looking building. The weathered red bricks were partially covered with climbing ivy, making the building appear yet grander and, surprisingly, softer.

The doctor waited in the car while his butler walked around and opened the door for him; before climbing, with surprising ease, out of the low-slung vehicle. He stood waiting, his face entirely impassive, as the two men joined him on the adjoining cobblestone walkway. “This is my home and it is to be your residence during the experimentation. You will find that Juan has the keys to your cuffs and is willing to remove them, as long as you are willing not to engage in any foolish behavior. Do not attempt to escape and do try not to resist the experiments.”

Tomás frowned and glanced over at his brother, but Antonio was already nodding his consent and was attended to by the butler. Soon after he also had the cuffs removed and they both followed the older man into the manor. The interior was just as grandiose as the exterior with thick wooden floors, exposed beams and plenty of soft leather furniture. The two men followed the doctor into the formal sitting area and were seated in two damask printed wingback chairs sitting opposite the doctor.

“There are a few things that you should know as you settle in here at my manor. The first and most important of these things is that I have many secrets, and I don’t strictly trust either of you with them yet. When the time comes, I shall inform you of what you need to know. Until such a time, you shall remain on this floor and the one above it. The fourth floor is mine, as are both levels of the basement. If I catch either of you in one of these locations…” The doctor looked past them, turning his face away momentarily. “There are fates much worse than death.”

The brothers turned and looked at each other worryingly, even as Juan walked in with a tea tray ladened with a shimmering silver teapot, creamer and sugar dish and a set of porcelain cups and saucers. “Would you care for a cup of tea, sirs?” He asked politely as he settled the tray onto a small table and prepared a teacup for the doctor.

____________________________________________

The first week went by surprisingly well, considering the doctors prior threats. The two men found their sleeping arrangements later that day. They were staying in adjoining rooms, each was a roughly fourteen foot square with a smaller office or sitting room connected to one side and a jack-and-jill bathroom connecting the rooms together. They each had their own beds, which were soft, but not overly plush.

The doctor spent a large amount of his time taking measurements for many different criteria. He measured their height and weight as well as using a pair of calipers to measure their body fat by pinching various folds of skin. He made pages worth of notes in a small black notebook for each of them before moving on to the next measurement. He took blood samples and examined them under a rather large and imposing microscope. He took other samples of bodily fluids and examined them similarly, occasionally putting them into smaller vials and running them through a centrifuge to better separate the solids from the liquid. He measured their heads with calipers and made even more detailed notes. All in all, the brothers felt as though they were right on the precipice of a great change in the testing. A few days later, they would learn how that change would come.

“You are both less ideal than I had hoped.” The doctor said waspishly, as he flicked through both of their notebooks simultaneously. “Unfortunately, I do not feel as though you will have sufficiently high psi-connectivity, due to the genetic differences between you. “ He sighed as he closed both notebooks and stowed them into a pocket on his lab coat. “I will still use you, but it will just have to be for something else. I will try basic biological enhancement. Given what you were doing to find yourselves sentenced to death, I can assume greatness from my upcoming super soldiers, yes?”

The brothers looked at each other warily as the doctor sat down at his desk and placed his fingertips together contemplatively.