Mr. Abrams: “…Haah. Like I said. Knowing her memories showed me this image, and that your memories most likely corroborate with hers doesn’t change anything. A powerful enough villain could impose false memories into your subconscious without you even being aware of a difference. Heck, I can do that to you if I ever truly felt like it.”
Leos: “…”
Mr. Abrams: “Furthermore, Mr. Leos. That doesn’t answer the major question that everyone has found themselves stumped about: what exactly happened to all twenty-three thousand people claimed by the surviving victims to have died, when a severe lack of evidence tells us they never existed to begin with? No documents, no fingerprints…
Unfortunately, even if you gave me more intel on the matter to report to those in charge of your case, the Professor’s death will only hold a shadow of importance compared with the assumed mass-victim disappearance.(That family would work hard to stop me too.) Besides this crappy dose of reality; I’m not in a position to make a move.”
Leos: “Why?”
Mr. Abrams: “Did you forget so quickly? Let me remind you then: You died today. And your lives are still in immediate danger even as we converse with each other like this.
(Dammit, I almost said ‘even as we waste time’! I can’t ever say something like that. It’ll just make Leos believe that I think speaking to him is a waste of my time. That is the exact opposite kind of example that I am supposed to be setting here!)”
Leos: “But...But…! (No, it can’t – it can’t end like this!) *Clenches fist!*”
Mr. Abrams: “Leos. Hey, tell me the truth: Are you scared of Noel?”
Leos: “I…I…I… *Releases hand*”
Mr. Abrams, the man he’d put ALL hopes into – only to have that very hope squandered and torn into pieces. Hearing his request for help promptly rejected by the man who was SUPPOSED to be his savior, his protector, his mentor and his caretaker made the non-combatant’s gut wrench.
He said no? My teacher… refused to help me? This was his first reaction. Completely, and utterly shocked. As they continued to speak, his hope that Mr. Abrams would understand the truth over some...silly ideological faith in his class, shifted instead, into escalating levels of anger. The man that would serve to be his homeroom teacher, actually wouldn’t assist him.
Instead; it sounded like the wavey - haired authority figure was trying to come up with excuses for himself – as if he didn’t wish to be involved with Leos’s matter.
Adults!
They’re always like this!
In the very beginning, his sister and he were hounded NONSTOP by adults involved with all kinds of expert fields. Doctors, Psychologists, Therapists, Psycho-Therapists, Investigators and Detectives, Counselors, News Reporters and Radio Hosts… a wide variety of different kinds of people bothered them to no end! They would be asked question after annoying question. Sometimes, they weren’t allowed to say no. Reasons like ‘Oh, it’s for the case’ were often thrown into the equation, and they’d be expected to deliver a proper answer.
But what came after? What was the result of all that interviewing? All of that attention and hounding, what exactly did it amount to?
NOTHING! Not one stinking piece of new intel, not one update on the ‘killer’ and not a SINGLE bit of effort made into finding the families of Fabian and Chuma. It was as if…
As if they didn’t wish to put any effort into finding relatives for so many people! They lost interest after studying the ‘survivors’! Either that, or… like his teacher surmised… they just didn’t believe so many people existed. Finding families for imaginary victims? As if they would waste their precious time!
This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.
Still, it didn’t excuse his teacher’s intention to simply shrug him off. In a time where he underwent so much unnecessary negativity – at a point of his life when he didn’t really know who to trust anymore and was facing even MORE danger – his teacher couldn’t spend a few more minutes of time to even … hear him out? To hear his side of things and follow-up by comforting him? What kind of teacher was this?
Not only that, but Mr. Abrams says he ALREADY KNOWS!
What?! He knows, yet is currently giving that murderer MEDICAL
TREATMENT! Come to think of it, both Noel and that man who was fighting Rise, that villain are receiving treatment in the SAME room! Since that was the case, maybe he was planning to report Noel…! But as the teacher gave his response, Leos felt his temper re-bubbling into a boil.
And like a switch being pulled, the very last question his dodgy homeroom teacher Mr. Abrams asked of him put a swift halt to the boy’s rapidly rising rage. His anger against the unfair adult slowly subsided until a brand new emotion replaced it: fear.
Memories were recalled in a near instant replay. Unwanted memories. Memories busy forcing their way into his mind each and every moment that Leos wished he could forget them. The boy’s eyes bulged and his hands subconsciously grasped at his scalp. Perhaps out of a base necessity to stop whatever was causing harm to him? Or maybe because of some innate desire; a need to bring comfort to the place in need of healing? Such a thing is like a hand wrapped in cloth being forcibly pressed down upon an injury to stop the bleeding, or the very moment a wound is formed, our immediate reaction is to tightly cover it with our palm. Whatever the case may be, Leos’s instinctual reaction towards that question was to grasp at his left and right temples and hope the pain will subside.
*Thunk!*
A cane came down lightly, tapping his forehead just as he was about to speak. In a near instance, his countenance restored to normal.
Mr. Abrams took his right hand and placed it on Leos’s left shoulder, then he spoke one final sentence before activating his memory - experiencing power:
Mr. Abrams: “You worry too much! It’s not wise to assume that I would ever purposely place you in harm’s way. No matter what he or anybody else tries to pull against you, I promise that you, Leos, starting the day of this promise, will always be safe here. I give you my word as your homeroom teacher, Houdini Abrams. After I check a few of your memories, you can rest assured that I will take my leave.”
His eyes glowed a bright shade of white. And as they did, Leos’s own became faded.
…
Beginning the memory searching process was much easier this time around. He only had to skip past all details regarding the early-on fight between Noel and him.
.
.
.
...Or at least that’s what he was about to do, before recalling Leos’s chastising.
Mr Abrams: “(That kid, his words sting a bit. Being under the mad Professor’s rule must have turned his outlook on life cynical...)”
His fear of the invader was only brief. A horrible gnawing at the back of his subconscious did persist, as if to remind him about his fallen siblings at the mere THOUGHT of his own death...but he managed to suppress it.
Too bad that his distracting inner battle caused him to lose sight of his impending death thanks to the mercenary codenamed Four’s tactical change.
Noel’s kick caught him completely off guard and unprepared. He actually blacked out for a few minutes. Luckily Mr. Abrams already knew what would follow thanks to the time he spent searching through Oliviera’s memories. She carries him through the woods while dodging weapons until he wakes up on top of her shoulder. Then comes…
*CRRRACK!*
One: “Sorry, son. Under normal circumstances, I would probably never kill you. I’ve always hated jobs involving kids because it’s too easy to fail the mission with such an annoyingly fragile factor involved.”
His emotions spiraled out of control here, in the very end of his memories.
Perhaps this was his sin? For failing the other two victims, he would die. The day he decides to make an effort, to restore his life back to SOME semblance of normality, the way it used to be; or SHOULD HAVE remained, if he was never kidnapped. Maybe he should be scared, maybe he WOULD be, had his life been normal.
But all this time, he felt… he felt as though his life was lived only on borrowed time. And like anything borrowed, it must eventually be returned to its rightful owner: Death.
Leos: “(Chuma…Fabian… it seems like, heheh, I’ll be visiting you a whole lot sooner then I expected. I wonder which of us you’ve been protecting this whole entire time. IF you’ve been protecting Rebeccah and I—REBECCAH!
…
…
…
She has co-workers now. She should be fine…
she should…
...she…
.
.
NO! I don’t- I don’t wanna die! Ahhhh!! Why – why me! Why does this have to happen to me! I can’t…
Hey. If you Gods really do exist out there: why can’t you just let me be happy for once? I…)”
The weirdest part about this particular memory wasn’t how these thoughts trailed on even after his head was ripped off from the neck. Nor was it the fact he was expecting whoever ‘Chuma’ and ‘Fabian’ were, to be there, waiting for him.
The strangest part, was the complete ‘emptiness’ Mr. Abrams noticed, while peering through Leos’s eyes. This boy wouldn’t have noticed, but Mr. Abrams, a powerful magician in his own right, had the ability to perceive different planes of existence. ‘ghosts’ or similar non-physical beings were very clear for him, even while peering through the eyes of another in order to view the world differently. And unfortunately for Leos here…
There were no Chuma or Fabian waiting for him.
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