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Chapter or Story
Disclaimer: The characters Miss Parker, Sydney, Jarod, Broots etc. and the fictional Centre, are all property of MTM and NBC Productions and used without permission. I'm not making any money out of this and no infringement is intended.
AUTHOR’S NOTES: This is my first fan-fic so kindly bear with me here. Let it be known that I will be writing this story in several parts and, if I receive no evidence (feedback) that it is being read I probably won’t continue. I included some personal characters of mine that I like to work with in all my little dittys. Don’t mind them, they’re harmless. Oh, and don’t steel them either. I hate that. That about does it for the notes. Enjoy and feed me back if thou would be so kind.
THE PROJECTS
Matrea Nara
1/?
Funny isn’t it, how things change so drastically in such a short time. I say short because in the overall scheme of life, the universe, and everything, a human lifespan is a gods’ blink. And so, that being made clear you can understand how one turning point, no matter the import, in one person’s life can mean so little to all the other people observing, in one way or another, the results, because at some point all these life altering events will mean nothing to no one. So it’s funny, how things which mean so little to anyone can mean so much to enough people to change as much as they do in such a short time.
These were the thoughts swimming through the mind of one man by the name of Jarod, no other name to speak of, who was sitting on the balcony of a sparsely furnished loft apartment contemplating life one Sunday evening. If you find it difficult to understand these thoughts fear not, because this one man is a special one, and no one can be expected to follow the putterings of his mind. He was wondering about his life, or lack of it, and about the people in it who he, for all his genius, failed to understand.
“Jarod?”
The voice that called to him was that of a young girl of fifteen years he had met on his most recent pretend. Finding her and her brothers was one of his singularly greatest achievements since he had broken out, and he was not letting any of the three of them go as long as he could help it.
“Back here Arin.” The tall, wiry girl with the tan skin, jade eyes, and long black braid moved with the silence and grace of a cat onto the balcony with him, scanning the harbor with that quick, assessing attitude he had noticed about her when they had first met. The girl was beautiful in the way that wolves are, and looked at the world in much the same way as a predator. Everywhere she went she watched everything, never missing even the slightest detail of a situation.
Arin hopped onto the rail, balancing on the balls of her feet in a crouch with her fingers steepled under her chin. The railing was only a few inches wide and five stories up, the wind brisk and tugging at her. Yet, unfazed, Arin Lynn retained her precarious perch, staring unseeing at the waters below.
“They’re coming.” The statement took Jarod by surprise, as few things did these days, but he hid it well.
“Then they’re early. We expected a few more days.”
“You were wrong to clock them. Never, ever underestimate you opponents J.” While she spoke her voice barely rose above the breeze, but he hung on every word as he had since they had met.
“I was never wrong before,” was all he could say to that, feebly defending himself. The girl just snorted reproachfully, never facing him. She had something more to say, and he waited for her.
“We’ve made a decision.” Her voice was louder now, stronger and more determined. “We’ll stay with you as long as you’ll have us, where ever you lead us. There is nothing left for us here now. No one else like us.”
“I’m not so much like you either you know.”
“Aye, but as close as we’re likely to find.”
“You could go with them.” There was not a doubt in his mind she knew who he was referring to with that statement.
“That was never an option. You know that.”
“Yeah I guess I do.” Minutes seemed like hours as they watched the sunset together. “So what now?”
“Pack.”
With that final word of advise Arin, a gifted youth the Centre would pay fortunes in bank notes and lives to obtain, slipped off the railing and glided stealthily to the door, on her way to retrieve her brothers a few floors down.
Miss Parker swept into the apartment building’s lobby with the swiftness and deadly surety of a firestorm. Trailing in her wake was her team of sweepers, precise as machines, along with Sydney, Broots, and of course, dear brother Lyle. It was easy business to get Jarod’s apartment number, and the crew packed into the elevators. After so long at this job none expected to find him, but under her watchful eye they all checked their weapons and prepared for the hunt.
Bursting into the loft apartment a few minutes later was an act that produced several surprises for both the hunters and the hunted. Jarod, still packing, had not expected the team to arrive here so soon. Supposing he should have listened to Arin’s advise about never underestimating one’s opponents, he stood tense by the bed with his few belongings scattered about, desperately searching for his exit.
Miss Parker, at that moment, felt a surge of emotion overcome her that never broke the external façade she wore for the sake of the sweepers around her. That son of a bitch was still here. They had caught him. “Finally”, and “Oh dear God, no,” were the two responses battling for dominance in her mind. She raised her gun.
“It’s time to go home Jarod.”
What happened next occurred so fast no one in the room had time to process it before it was snarling in their faces, literally. Three teen-agers, more like animals than kids, slammed into them with the force of a driving wind. In what seemed like a heartbeat all the sweepers were down, dead or almost dead, and Miss Parker was pinned against the wall with an arm barring her throat and a young girl holding her up with the strength of ten men. Lyle was in a similar position near her, though the boy holding him was not a gentle with him as this girl was being with Parker. Sydney and Broots, not surprisingly, had been left alone.
As Parker watched the girl’s vibrant green eyes darkened rabidly until they were almost black. Her feet dangling, Parker tried to struggle out of the iron grasp, only to find the already harsh choke-hold applied all the harder. The girl growled, low and angry deep in her throat, baring canines longer and slightly more hooked than those of the average human. Menacingly, the youngster clicked those teeth and let her eyes rove to Lyle, looking almost hungry.
“Arin no!” The voice was Jarod’s. He had rushed up behind Arin and put a hand on her shoulder, greeted with the snarl increasing volume and her eyes darkening further still in rage. “Please.” His voice was calm, pleading, his face panicked. Gradually the eyes reverted to their previous color and the growl faded away. Stepping back, Arin let Parker fall to the floor, gasping.
“Damn boy what did I tell you?” she demanded of Jarod, never taking her eyes away from her victim.
“Luke put him down.” Reluctantly, Lucian Lynn did so, neatly disarming Lyle as the latter slumped. Arin’s twin brother, with the same athletic build, tan skin, and raven hair, sporting eyes of cobalt blue, moved to his sister’s side while their younger sibling removed all weapons from the downed sweepers. Ryker, at twelve years, had hazel eyes and chestnut hair, cut a bit longer than Luke’s spiky, gelled style. All three were extremely good looking, with an intelligence behind their eyes Parker and Sydney had seen between them only one other place before. Syd chuckled softly to himself even as Parker’s jaw fell to her chest. Neither said a word.
“You get the car?”
“Roses J,” the older of the two boys, Luke, said lightly. There was amusement in his voice, the kind that underlay every word he said no matter the import. “Give us a harder job next time will you?”
“Like lookout. Dammit J-Man we told you!” Arin looked downright annoyed.
“And I told you they were never this fast before. I wasn’t prepared for it.”
“Well now you are. Can we go now please?” Though there was certainly cause to make the fastest possibly exit, something held Jarod back. His hesitation apparent to the twins, they growled as one in warning while Ryker finished packing Jarod’s gear.
“Don’t do this.”
“We can do it. This is our perfect chance! We just need to step up the clock and…”
“No dammit! Not today!”
“She’s right J,” Luke agreed. “There are too many chinks to step up the clock now.”
“There are no chinks, I designed it.”
“The mighty Pretender has already proven to us exactly how infallible he is. There’s no time for this.”
Jarod met the eyes of each of the feral youths in turn, then turned to their captives with a defeated smile and shrugged. One of the reasons he liked them was that they were so damned stubborn. They kept him on the right path, moving forward and never letting him get sidetracked. Not only that but his famous charm didn’t have the slightest effect on them. They did what needed to be done.
“There’ll be another day,” he announced happily, taking his pack from Ryker and swinging it over his shoulder.
“You bet your ass there will be,” Parker growled, too livid to take note of the knowing look that passed between the Pretenders. They were all Pretenders after all, though none but them knew it. Jarod could not help but laugh at the fact that she had inadvertently confirmed the inevitability of something she would later curse him for. Tossing a mock salute Jarod strolled casually, no rush, toward the door of the loft, suppressing the torrent of emotions raging through him. He was anxious to begin the project and today seemed as good a time as any. But they were right. It wasn’t time.
Ryker followed close at his heels while Arin and Luke backed out behind them. He didn’t need to see them to know their eyes were now totally black with rage, probably mostly directed at him. He was an arrogant fool and a genius to boot and all four knew it, but Jarod was no expert in worldly ways as he new found associates were. They knew the menacing glint in Lyle’s eyes for what it was…and barely had time to yelp warning and dive clear.
Lyle had stowed a backup weapon strapped around his ankle that Luke had somehow missed during the pat down. He drew, aimed haphazardly, and fired off several rounds before the retreating Pretenders knew what had hit them.
With genetically engineered grace Arin struck, withdrawing a knife she kept in her boot and launching at Lyle with a cold fury that would have set a more human man to trembling and losing control of his bodily functions. Lyle, with the precision of the trained killer he was, dropped back on his ass and planted his feet in Arin’s stomach, kicking her back over his head. She landed in a roll, wheeling and facing her opponent with teeth bared. She loved a challenge.
Jarod wore his panic face, knowing what the outcome of the confrontation would be and the retribution the Centre would seek. Several attempts to call Arin back to heel, so-to-speak, failed miserably. She didn’t even hear him, so heavily was the blood lust upon her. Lyle had fired on the pack, and she would kill him. The Centre would become a machine seeking all their blood and their chance to complete the final phase of their project would be lost.
It took seconds to come to the conclusion Luke and Ryker were still working through. They must act now or forget it, forever. Jarod, for reasons of his own, was unwilling to do that.
Miss Parker was just going for her weapon when he got to her. His hand wrapped vice-like around her arm as he pulled her to him, snatching her gun from its holster before she could and pressing the muzzle to her temple. She went rigid, terror, surprise, annoyance, and the most potent confusion she had ever known waging a war inside her. All Jarod could do was silently apologize for what he was doing now and what he would need to do in the very near future, nearer than any of them had planned it. He refused to meet gazes with Sydney.
“Stop!” he bellowed, putting as much commanding force behind his voice as he could manage in the grip of such near paralyzing emotion. Jarod was a highly emotional person, as all present knew well.
Arin’s gaze flicked to him an instant before she was ready for the kill strike. Knowing what he was planning, and by the look of her wholly disapproving, she rose to stand erect and hold the knife in the ready position, the flat edge pressed up against the back of her arm, away from her opponent. Lyle was a little slower in getting the point, preparing for a counterattack when he heard Arin laugh scornfully and Jarod cock the hammer back on Parker’s sidearm. All went still.
For a sixty-second eternity no one among them said a word, moved a muscle. The hungry predator’s expression did not leave Arin’s face, knowing as she did the game was not up and that the reason Jarod had upped the clock was because he knew it too. Slowly, taking baby steps backward with his arm wrapped securely around Parker’s throat and the gun to her temple, Jarod moved for the door. Luke and Ryker stayed to either side, because Parker knew he would never shoot her and she also knew now to get free of that particular hold. But she saw them there and made no effort. Her eyes were on the young girl who wanted to badly to kill her brother. As for Syd and Broots, both were too miffed and frightened to move, seeing what was about to happen to Parker and Lyle and dreading the explanation the Triumvirate would require when this day was done.
When Jarod and her brothers were out the door the killer smile returned to Arin’s grim features and she flipped the knife back forward. Nothing Jarod might have said could have changed this. He had seen on that pretend, when he found them, how far they would go to defend their family. No one fired on one of them and lived. At least no one he had seen. He watched through the door as she leapt at him, dodging his meager defenses with ease and slipping the blade between his ribs. In his death throws Lyle’s face was a picture of horror and startled disbelief. The smugness had been wiped clean. She cleaned the blade on his pant leg, stowed in its place in her boot, and jogs to meet her companions even as Sydney moved to Lyle’s side and Broots flipped open a cell-phone pilfered from a downed Sweeper just starting to move.
“Rosed J,” she said when she caught up, meeting Parker’s glare fearlessly. “Next time don’t clock them.”
Jarod watched Miss Parker for any sign of anger on her part for the death of her brother. There was none, no remorse whatsoever, though she probably regretted the opportunity to do it herself had been taken from her. She would come to hate Jarod in the coming days unless all went perfectly according to plan, which it never did. Part of the reason he had picked up the Lynns was that maybe, with there help, that end situation might be avoided. Somehow he doubted it but maybe. Whatever happened now they could only go forward. They would have never gotten to her after Arin killed Lyle, though the timetable allowed to the process to begin only sometime in the middle of next month.
The Project had moved to the next phase.
AUTHOR’S NOTES: This is my first fan-fic so kindly bear with me here. Let it be known that I will be writing this story in several parts and, if I receive no evidence (feedback) that it is being read I probably won’t continue. I included some personal characters of mine that I like to work with in all my little dittys. Don’t mind them, they’re harmless. Oh, and don’t steel them either. I hate that. That about does it for the notes. Enjoy and feed me back if thou would be so kind.
THE PROJECTS
Matrea Nara
1/?
Funny isn’t it, how things change so drastically in such a short time. I say short because in the overall scheme of life, the universe, and everything, a human lifespan is a gods’ blink. And so, that being made clear you can understand how one turning point, no matter the import, in one person’s life can mean so little to all the other people observing, in one way or another, the results, because at some point all these life altering events will mean nothing to no one. So it’s funny, how things which mean so little to anyone can mean so much to enough people to change as much as they do in such a short time.
These were the thoughts swimming through the mind of one man by the name of Jarod, no other name to speak of, who was sitting on the balcony of a sparsely furnished loft apartment contemplating life one Sunday evening. If you find it difficult to understand these thoughts fear not, because this one man is a special one, and no one can be expected to follow the putterings of his mind. He was wondering about his life, or lack of it, and about the people in it who he, for all his genius, failed to understand.
“Jarod?”
The voice that called to him was that of a young girl of fifteen years he had met on his most recent pretend. Finding her and her brothers was one of his singularly greatest achievements since he had broken out, and he was not letting any of the three of them go as long as he could help it.
“Back here Arin.” The tall, wiry girl with the tan skin, jade eyes, and long black braid moved with the silence and grace of a cat onto the balcony with him, scanning the harbor with that quick, assessing attitude he had noticed about her when they had first met. The girl was beautiful in the way that wolves are, and looked at the world in much the same way as a predator. Everywhere she went she watched everything, never missing even the slightest detail of a situation.
Arin hopped onto the rail, balancing on the balls of her feet in a crouch with her fingers steepled under her chin. The railing was only a few inches wide and five stories up, the wind brisk and tugging at her. Yet, unfazed, Arin Lynn retained her precarious perch, staring unseeing at the waters below.
“They’re coming.” The statement took Jarod by surprise, as few things did these days, but he hid it well.
“Then they’re early. We expected a few more days.”
“You were wrong to clock them. Never, ever underestimate you opponents J.” While she spoke her voice barely rose above the breeze, but he hung on every word as he had since they had met.
“I was never wrong before,” was all he could say to that, feebly defending himself. The girl just snorted reproachfully, never facing him. She had something more to say, and he waited for her.
“We’ve made a decision.” Her voice was louder now, stronger and more determined. “We’ll stay with you as long as you’ll have us, where ever you lead us. There is nothing left for us here now. No one else like us.”
“I’m not so much like you either you know.”
“Aye, but as close as we’re likely to find.”
“You could go with them.” There was not a doubt in his mind she knew who he was referring to with that statement.
“That was never an option. You know that.”
“Yeah I guess I do.” Minutes seemed like hours as they watched the sunset together. “So what now?”
“Pack.”
With that final word of advise Arin, a gifted youth the Centre would pay fortunes in bank notes and lives to obtain, slipped off the railing and glided stealthily to the door, on her way to retrieve her brothers a few floors down.
Miss Parker swept into the apartment building’s lobby with the swiftness and deadly surety of a firestorm. Trailing in her wake was her team of sweepers, precise as machines, along with Sydney, Broots, and of course, dear brother Lyle. It was easy business to get Jarod’s apartment number, and the crew packed into the elevators. After so long at this job none expected to find him, but under her watchful eye they all checked their weapons and prepared for the hunt.
Bursting into the loft apartment a few minutes later was an act that produced several surprises for both the hunters and the hunted. Jarod, still packing, had not expected the team to arrive here so soon. Supposing he should have listened to Arin’s advise about never underestimating one’s opponents, he stood tense by the bed with his few belongings scattered about, desperately searching for his exit.
Miss Parker, at that moment, felt a surge of emotion overcome her that never broke the external façade she wore for the sake of the sweepers around her. That son of a bitch was still here. They had caught him. “Finally”, and “Oh dear God, no,” were the two responses battling for dominance in her mind. She raised her gun.
“It’s time to go home Jarod.”
What happened next occurred so fast no one in the room had time to process it before it was snarling in their faces, literally. Three teen-agers, more like animals than kids, slammed into them with the force of a driving wind. In what seemed like a heartbeat all the sweepers were down, dead or almost dead, and Miss Parker was pinned against the wall with an arm barring her throat and a young girl holding her up with the strength of ten men. Lyle was in a similar position near her, though the boy holding him was not a gentle with him as this girl was being with Parker. Sydney and Broots, not surprisingly, had been left alone.
As Parker watched the girl’s vibrant green eyes darkened rabidly until they were almost black. Her feet dangling, Parker tried to struggle out of the iron grasp, only to find the already harsh choke-hold applied all the harder. The girl growled, low and angry deep in her throat, baring canines longer and slightly more hooked than those of the average human. Menacingly, the youngster clicked those teeth and let her eyes rove to Lyle, looking almost hungry.
“Arin no!” The voice was Jarod’s. He had rushed up behind Arin and put a hand on her shoulder, greeted with the snarl increasing volume and her eyes darkening further still in rage. “Please.” His voice was calm, pleading, his face panicked. Gradually the eyes reverted to their previous color and the growl faded away. Stepping back, Arin let Parker fall to the floor, gasping.
“Damn boy what did I tell you?” she demanded of Jarod, never taking her eyes away from her victim.
“Luke put him down.” Reluctantly, Lucian Lynn did so, neatly disarming Lyle as the latter slumped. Arin’s twin brother, with the same athletic build, tan skin, and raven hair, sporting eyes of cobalt blue, moved to his sister’s side while their younger sibling removed all weapons from the downed sweepers. Ryker, at twelve years, had hazel eyes and chestnut hair, cut a bit longer than Luke’s spiky, gelled style. All three were extremely good looking, with an intelligence behind their eyes Parker and Sydney had seen between them only one other place before. Syd chuckled softly to himself even as Parker’s jaw fell to her chest. Neither said a word.
“You get the car?”
“Roses J,” the older of the two boys, Luke, said lightly. There was amusement in his voice, the kind that underlay every word he said no matter the import. “Give us a harder job next time will you?”
“Like lookout. Dammit J-Man we told you!” Arin looked downright annoyed.
“And I told you they were never this fast before. I wasn’t prepared for it.”
“Well now you are. Can we go now please?” Though there was certainly cause to make the fastest possibly exit, something held Jarod back. His hesitation apparent to the twins, they growled as one in warning while Ryker finished packing Jarod’s gear.
“Don’t do this.”
“We can do it. This is our perfect chance! We just need to step up the clock and…”
“No dammit! Not today!”
“She’s right J,” Luke agreed. “There are too many chinks to step up the clock now.”
“There are no chinks, I designed it.”
“The mighty Pretender has already proven to us exactly how infallible he is. There’s no time for this.”
Jarod met the eyes of each of the feral youths in turn, then turned to their captives with a defeated smile and shrugged. One of the reasons he liked them was that they were so damned stubborn. They kept him on the right path, moving forward and never letting him get sidetracked. Not only that but his famous charm didn’t have the slightest effect on them. They did what needed to be done.
“There’ll be another day,” he announced happily, taking his pack from Ryker and swinging it over his shoulder.
“You bet your ass there will be,” Parker growled, too livid to take note of the knowing look that passed between the Pretenders. They were all Pretenders after all, though none but them knew it. Jarod could not help but laugh at the fact that she had inadvertently confirmed the inevitability of something she would later curse him for. Tossing a mock salute Jarod strolled casually, no rush, toward the door of the loft, suppressing the torrent of emotions raging through him. He was anxious to begin the project and today seemed as good a time as any. But they were right. It wasn’t time.
Ryker followed close at his heels while Arin and Luke backed out behind them. He didn’t need to see them to know their eyes were now totally black with rage, probably mostly directed at him. He was an arrogant fool and a genius to boot and all four knew it, but Jarod was no expert in worldly ways as he new found associates were. They knew the menacing glint in Lyle’s eyes for what it was…and barely had time to yelp warning and dive clear.
Lyle had stowed a backup weapon strapped around his ankle that Luke had somehow missed during the pat down. He drew, aimed haphazardly, and fired off several rounds before the retreating Pretenders knew what had hit them.
With genetically engineered grace Arin struck, withdrawing a knife she kept in her boot and launching at Lyle with a cold fury that would have set a more human man to trembling and losing control of his bodily functions. Lyle, with the precision of the trained killer he was, dropped back on his ass and planted his feet in Arin’s stomach, kicking her back over his head. She landed in a roll, wheeling and facing her opponent with teeth bared. She loved a challenge.
Jarod wore his panic face, knowing what the outcome of the confrontation would be and the retribution the Centre would seek. Several attempts to call Arin back to heel, so-to-speak, failed miserably. She didn’t even hear him, so heavily was the blood lust upon her. Lyle had fired on the pack, and she would kill him. The Centre would become a machine seeking all their blood and their chance to complete the final phase of their project would be lost.
It took seconds to come to the conclusion Luke and Ryker were still working through. They must act now or forget it, forever. Jarod, for reasons of his own, was unwilling to do that.
Miss Parker was just going for her weapon when he got to her. His hand wrapped vice-like around her arm as he pulled her to him, snatching her gun from its holster before she could and pressing the muzzle to her temple. She went rigid, terror, surprise, annoyance, and the most potent confusion she had ever known waging a war inside her. All Jarod could do was silently apologize for what he was doing now and what he would need to do in the very near future, nearer than any of them had planned it. He refused to meet gazes with Sydney.
“Stop!” he bellowed, putting as much commanding force behind his voice as he could manage in the grip of such near paralyzing emotion. Jarod was a highly emotional person, as all present knew well.
Arin’s gaze flicked to him an instant before she was ready for the kill strike. Knowing what he was planning, and by the look of her wholly disapproving, she rose to stand erect and hold the knife in the ready position, the flat edge pressed up against the back of her arm, away from her opponent. Lyle was a little slower in getting the point, preparing for a counterattack when he heard Arin laugh scornfully and Jarod cock the hammer back on Parker’s sidearm. All went still.
For a sixty-second eternity no one among them said a word, moved a muscle. The hungry predator’s expression did not leave Arin’s face, knowing as she did the game was not up and that the reason Jarod had upped the clock was because he knew it too. Slowly, taking baby steps backward with his arm wrapped securely around Parker’s throat and the gun to her temple, Jarod moved for the door. Luke and Ryker stayed to either side, because Parker knew he would never shoot her and she also knew now to get free of that particular hold. But she saw them there and made no effort. Her eyes were on the young girl who wanted to badly to kill her brother. As for Syd and Broots, both were too miffed and frightened to move, seeing what was about to happen to Parker and Lyle and dreading the explanation the Triumvirate would require when this day was done.
When Jarod and her brothers were out the door the killer smile returned to Arin’s grim features and she flipped the knife back forward. Nothing Jarod might have said could have changed this. He had seen on that pretend, when he found them, how far they would go to defend their family. No one fired on one of them and lived. At least no one he had seen. He watched through the door as she leapt at him, dodging his meager defenses with ease and slipping the blade between his ribs. In his death throws Lyle’s face was a picture of horror and startled disbelief. The smugness had been wiped clean. She cleaned the blade on his pant leg, stowed in its place in her boot, and jogs to meet her companions even as Sydney moved to Lyle’s side and Broots flipped open a cell-phone pilfered from a downed Sweeper just starting to move.
“Rosed J,” she said when she caught up, meeting Parker’s glare fearlessly. “Next time don’t clock them.”
Jarod watched Miss Parker for any sign of anger on her part for the death of her brother. There was none, no remorse whatsoever, though she probably regretted the opportunity to do it herself had been taken from her. She would come to hate Jarod in the coming days unless all went perfectly according to plan, which it never did. Part of the reason he had picked up the Lynns was that maybe, with there help, that end situation might be avoided. Somehow he doubted it but maybe. Whatever happened now they could only go forward. They would have never gotten to her after Arin killed Lyle, though the timetable allowed to the process to begin only sometime in the middle of next month.
The Project had moved to the next phase.
