The Story - Prologue
2010-03-07 00:11![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
aguuA/N: So, since Nagant stole the spotlight and totally took me off-track from Browning...he gets to be the hero of the first book, "Story." (Seriously people, if you can give me a better title, I'd take it. Otherwise it sticks, kind of like how High School Musical got its' title.)
_____________________
Strength comes when you forsake everything else, Adrian. Mom, what do you and dad do? Adrian...just go inside your room and study like a good boy. You don't want to get killed out there, do you? No, mom... Very good.
It was the same, every night. Remnants of his past, his happier childhood. While he would occasionally get punished for missing curfew, sneaking bits of food from the table into his room, and would be sent upstairs without dinner if he dared to miss an important target on purpose, it was an easy existence.
They had to keep on moving, he remembered. His father's line of work had him being kicked from Israel to Sudan, Ethiopia...he had learned to stop asking why they were leaving. Friendships suddenly became optional, although he always smiled whenever the other boys would play with him, and the girls would give him sweets. Then they came upon a small village near the Cape of Good Hope.
"We'll be living here from now on, Adrian," Sierra, his mother had said cheerfully. "No more moving?" He had asked as a boy, his green eyes full of curious wonder, probing into his mother's.
"No, no more, kiddo." Benjamin, his father ruffled his son's hair affectionately. Sierra worked days and Benjamin worked nights; it was enough for Adrian because he saw his parents regularly. One day, he made a mistake. He was playing with a red ball, one of his favorite toys.
It bounced out of his playpen, and he pushed the gate open, trying to get it. The ball rolled downstairs into the bathroom. He saw his mother washing up something that was soaked through in something. "Mom? What's that? Is it Dad's?" "A-adrian! Yes, you know your father, he's very...accident prone. You aren't supposed to be in here."
"Ball." Sierra looked round and found the red ball, and threw it gently out of the room.
Adrian's one-track mind told his body to go get it, and when he was completely outside in the hallway, she shut the door. Sierra sighed deeply. They couldn't live like this any longer. Benjamin was a grand assassin, but recently he had been more wounded than usual.
He needs his father...I'll have to tell Benji that he has to quit, for our son's sake... Her hands were cold as she continued washing his work clothes by hand, watching as the water turned deep pink before disappearing down the drain. One day, Benjamin wasn't around in the morning.
Adrian remembered seeing his mother look so lost, for the very first time. She forgot to kiss him goodbye when she went to Mossad, where she was an officer.
I know it's against protocol, but I need to find him...maybe, maybe he's... But most importantly, she forgot to punish him because he had broken one of their plates. That night, Sierra carefully tucked in her child.
"Mom?"
Adrian held onto his blanket; his father had never been gone this long. "where's Dad?" His mother never answered. Instead, she kissed his cheek. "Never you mind, darling. I'll be sure to scold your dad for being late tomorrow. Now, don't forget that we love you very, very much. Your dad and I both. Now try to get some sleep, okay?"
"O-okay..." Adrian closed his eyes, hearing the click of the light switching off. As he slept, Sierra stayed up all night, searching for her husband. Dawn came and she had fallen asleep to no avail--she couldn't find him.
The very next day, after giving Adrian Nagant his morning milk, she left and never came back. For a four year-old child, Adrian wouldn't cry. Instead, he just stared at the door, hoping that they would come back. Eating and sleeping wasn't as important as waiting for his parents come back.
Four days passed without incident. Adrian continued to wait, when suddenly the door was thrust open and soldiers burst into the room, all holding guns and all looking the same--blank and menacing. Quickly he hid himself in the closet, unnoticed and observing through the tiny crack in the door. Who were they? "Ugh!" He heard his father's voice, sounding broken and torn. He thought he saw his mother's back, their clothes ripped and wounds everywhere. He felt sorry for his parents. He thought they had done something very, very bad.
"Get it. You know what we came here for. You get it or else we'll look for your little boy." He saw his parents struggling to go near the closet; rummage through things until they procured something small, and he had only seen once. His mother had called it a "USB."
After handing it over, the gunshots started, and his parents were dead even before they hit the floor. The blood splattered, hitting his toys, hitting the cupboard door. He tasted it on his lips, warm and salty, metallic on his tongue. The tears came, and it was the only thing he could do as he saw the bullet holes plugged into his parents' heads. The soldiers laughed and kicked at the corpses before leaving the room, where they were slumped against the red ball.
He always woke up screaming.
_____________________
Strength comes when you forsake everything else, Adrian. Mom, what do you and dad do? Adrian...just go inside your room and study like a good boy. You don't want to get killed out there, do you? No, mom... Very good.
It was the same, every night. Remnants of his past, his happier childhood. While he would occasionally get punished for missing curfew, sneaking bits of food from the table into his room, and would be sent upstairs without dinner if he dared to miss an important target on purpose, it was an easy existence.
They had to keep on moving, he remembered. His father's line of work had him being kicked from Israel to Sudan, Ethiopia...he had learned to stop asking why they were leaving. Friendships suddenly became optional, although he always smiled whenever the other boys would play with him, and the girls would give him sweets. Then they came upon a small village near the Cape of Good Hope.
"We'll be living here from now on, Adrian," Sierra, his mother had said cheerfully. "No more moving?" He had asked as a boy, his green eyes full of curious wonder, probing into his mother's.
"No, no more, kiddo." Benjamin, his father ruffled his son's hair affectionately. Sierra worked days and Benjamin worked nights; it was enough for Adrian because he saw his parents regularly. One day, he made a mistake. He was playing with a red ball, one of his favorite toys.
It bounced out of his playpen, and he pushed the gate open, trying to get it. The ball rolled downstairs into the bathroom. He saw his mother washing up something that was soaked through in something. "Mom? What's that? Is it Dad's?" "A-adrian! Yes, you know your father, he's very...accident prone. You aren't supposed to be in here."
"Ball." Sierra looked round and found the red ball, and threw it gently out of the room.
Adrian's one-track mind told his body to go get it, and when he was completely outside in the hallway, she shut the door. Sierra sighed deeply. They couldn't live like this any longer. Benjamin was a grand assassin, but recently he had been more wounded than usual.
He needs his father...I'll have to tell Benji that he has to quit, for our son's sake... Her hands were cold as she continued washing his work clothes by hand, watching as the water turned deep pink before disappearing down the drain. One day, Benjamin wasn't around in the morning.
Adrian remembered seeing his mother look so lost, for the very first time. She forgot to kiss him goodbye when she went to Mossad, where she was an officer.
I know it's against protocol, but I need to find him...maybe, maybe he's... But most importantly, she forgot to punish him because he had broken one of their plates. That night, Sierra carefully tucked in her child.
"Mom?"
Adrian held onto his blanket; his father had never been gone this long. "where's Dad?" His mother never answered. Instead, she kissed his cheek. "Never you mind, darling. I'll be sure to scold your dad for being late tomorrow. Now, don't forget that we love you very, very much. Your dad and I both. Now try to get some sleep, okay?"
"O-okay..." Adrian closed his eyes, hearing the click of the light switching off. As he slept, Sierra stayed up all night, searching for her husband. Dawn came and she had fallen asleep to no avail--she couldn't find him.
The very next day, after giving Adrian Nagant his morning milk, she left and never came back. For a four year-old child, Adrian wouldn't cry. Instead, he just stared at the door, hoping that they would come back. Eating and sleeping wasn't as important as waiting for his parents come back.
Four days passed without incident. Adrian continued to wait, when suddenly the door was thrust open and soldiers burst into the room, all holding guns and all looking the same--blank and menacing. Quickly he hid himself in the closet, unnoticed and observing through the tiny crack in the door. Who were they? "Ugh!" He heard his father's voice, sounding broken and torn. He thought he saw his mother's back, their clothes ripped and wounds everywhere. He felt sorry for his parents. He thought they had done something very, very bad.
"Get it. You know what we came here for. You get it or else we'll look for your little boy." He saw his parents struggling to go near the closet; rummage through things until they procured something small, and he had only seen once. His mother had called it a "USB."
After handing it over, the gunshots started, and his parents were dead even before they hit the floor. The blood splattered, hitting his toys, hitting the cupboard door. He tasted it on his lips, warm and salty, metallic on his tongue. The tears came, and it was the only thing he could do as he saw the bullet holes plugged into his parents' heads. The soldiers laughed and kicked at the corpses before leaving the room, where they were slumped against the red ball.
He always woke up screaming.
