“Come on, Jill!” her friend, Mary, said, “He’ll be fine, for goodness’ sake.”
“I don’t know…” Jill said.
“We’ll be in and out, then you can go get your brother.”
“Mmm…fine. We’ll be quick, then he won’t wait too long.”
Why, Jill, why.
“How does this look on me?”
Jill could not understand her friend’s obsessiveness with the latest Juno fashion trends, they were barely eleven, and she really should get going to pick her brother up from school.
“I’ve got to go now,” Jill said.
“Boooooo, but you’ve barely tried on anything!” Mary responded.
“It’s already been an hour, Mary,” Jill said, “my brother will murder me.”
Why, Jill, WHY.
The smell of fire and smoke permeated the air and Jill could only stare in disbelief.
Her brother…
WHY, JILL, WHY.
Jill shot up from her bed. Sweat glistened from her skin and made her shiver, despite the warmth of the bedroom. In her frazzled state, she got up off her bed and peered at the bunk above her, or rather its occupant. Joel was sleeping there, his chest rising up and down to the rhythm of his breath. She sighed in relief. Everything was okay now. It was just a nightmare, albeit a version of the same one she’d had for the past three years.
“Hey.”
A voice snapped her from her thoughts and she was met with the bright turquoise eyes of her brother. Jill gave him a nervous smile, feeling regretful that her fretting about had awoken him.
“Hey,” she replied, “sorry for waking you.”
“It's no problem,” Joel said, “...are you nervous about your test tomorrow?”
“Uh…yeah,” Jill lied, “Yeah, the testing…I hope I'm blessed.”
Jill went back to her bed to lie down, thinking of the nightmare and thinking of tomorrow…she was thinking more of the prior than the latter, she admitted. A quiet ruffling above her was heard before she saw Joel making his way down the bunk ladders. Quiet creaks were heard from each step he made. He had filled out back to what was a normal weight to those his age, in miraculous speed she might add.
After reaching the floor, he turned to face her. He was contemplating something, his expression so strangely stoic and so different from the expressive Joel that she knew. After a moment, he gave himself a small nod before coming over to sit on the side of her bed. “Jill…you’re hiding something.”
Jill’s breath caught. “I’m not–”
“You are.” Joel cut her off, his voice patient and calm.
So very different, She thought.
“You have had night terrors almost every night for the past month that I’ve been here.”
Jill looked at her brother. There was a warmth in his eyes that was so evasive to her when he’d just awoken from his coma, a warmth that grew not just for her but for all of the family for each day that passed since. Then there was that stupid, reckless, foolish thing that he did with the Arsonist, a notorious Silver-ranked villain, that cemented the warmth in place.
Jill, like all her family, thought that they would die that day, but her idiot of a brother had decided to…do what he did so that they could live, and Jill was not ungrateful. She was not unused to such gore. The violence from mutant gangs and hero-villain fights sometimes left strewn corpses in the public eye, a show of necessary force, as well as a warning to all evil-doers. Growing up with it, the citizens of Juno city had all learnt to stomach such scenes from an early age. Such drastic measures were only reserved for the worst of the worst, people who commit atrocities without purpose, murder without motives…people like the Arsonist. Joel did what any hero would have done…
…Yet it was her brother, not a hero. Her brave, but unblessed brother, against a silver-ranked villain. It was unheard of and had she not witnessed it, she’d never believed it. Joel, reckless, mischievous Joel, the one that was so hyped with energy like he’d just binged on bags of sweets, the one who was always so loud, so crass, so annoying, yet so sweet.
She met Joel’s eyes once more. This person…this person wasn’t her brother, at least not the one she knew. Ever since he woke up, it was like he was a different person. His mannerisms, his way of speaking, the way he carries himself, and his inquisitive eyes that seemed to see through everything. She believed that her parents disguised their thoughts on this change through the simple relief of having him back…but she knew better. She was the closest to him out of all of them. They’d grown up together, and he may as well be her other-self.
This person…was not Joel, yet, was still Joel. Somehow, and in some way, there existed a strange familiarity between the pre-coma Joel and the post-coma Joel. Maybe it was that sense of protectiveness that he gave out, the sense of self-sacrifice…Jill didn’t know…but even though he was entirely different, he was still unmistakably Joel Sinclair. And it was this specific Joel Sinclair that’d, she’d have no doubt, the capabilities of saving them against the Arsonist out of the two. This stoic, reserved, observant Joel that watched over the family like a hawk would its children, ever so cautious of the threats that may harm them.
There was also this. The kind, understanding eyes, the patient, steady presence. He acted as if he was the older brother rather than the younger one. She…didn’t hate it. But he’s still not my Joel.
“I’m fine…” she said, tugging her bed sheets to her chin. She was a few hours from being fifteen and still acted like a child would when hiding something. She was no liar, the best she could do was be evasive.
Joel was silent in his response, but had that glazed-over look in his eyes that often signified that he was deep in his thoughts–one she’d learnt was a habit of his after observing him for the past four months.
When his turquoise eyes cleared once more, he spoke: “Jill, this must be…” he paused, considering his words, “...so very strange for you.”
He chewed his lips, “I must be completely different to what you’ve remembered of me.”
There was that observant nature of the post-coma Joel. It was like he’d read her thoughts. From their past month of living with each other, she felt as if Joel had never missed a thing. He’d reminded them of their home-packed lunch every time they’d almost forgotten it, he’d somehow always known where Jill had accidentally placed the Magi-television remote, and he’d always remembered what specific cup each of them liked to use for their morning coffee and hot chocolates–even their sugar and cream ratios. He’d even remembered where she’d left her missing left sock that one time for Juno’s sake. It was like he was a Mentat mutant, the rarest breed of mutants of all time… but she knew that wasn’t possible. The Aether only integrated with people after they reached maturity, which in Oran standards was fifteen years of age. Joel must’ve just had impeccable memory. She could only imagine the menace he’d be in school…which, she remembered, he was to begin the day after her testing, much to his discontent.
She sighed. “Yes…you’re a bit different…” Try a lot different, “but…I don’t hate it.” huh…that…that didn’t feel like a lie. Jill smiled to herself.
It was another moment of silence before Joel spoke again. “However different I am, Jill, just know this…I’ll give my life for you.” There was a crackling of intense obsessiveness within his tone. His turquoise eyes seemed to be glowing in the darkness, like two iridescent emeralds of profounding depths.
Jill’s own eyes widened as she recalled a memory from five years ago–one she’d tried to bury from the tragedy. She and Joel had been in a fight with bullies in their stage 1 school. They’d both ended up with bloodied fists and chipped teeth–or so they’d like to exaggerate, but it was more of bruised knuckles and sore jaws. It was only a childish spat, after all.
“You know, Jill,” 7-year-old Joel said, lying on the grass next to her, smiling that goofy smile of his, “I’d give my life for you.”
Jill bit her lip and nodded to Joel’s words, trying to hold back the sudden urge to cry from the past nostalgia and the resemblance between the old Joel and the one in front of her. Whilst in the past, Joel had said it out of goofiness and humour, this time there was a granite confidence in his tone like he could do nothing less. After the incident last month, she had no doubts he’d meant it.
It was at this moment that the images of the two finally welded together as one entity. That this Joel was no stranger to her. That they were not two different people but just wildly different aspects of the same.
Jill sniffed and held her hand out to grab his, making him stiffen up in the process. “I don’t deserve your protection, Joel. Not after what I did…but thank you...”
It took him a moment to reciprocate the gesture. “Good night, Jill. Good luck tomorrow.”
As Joel climbed back onto his bunk bed, the sound of a light snore was heard, as Jill had already fallen into a deep, peaceful sleep.
*****************
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Joel awoke before dawn. It was something ingrained into his very being like a written passage of old-world code in his systems. No matter where he was in the world, be it atop mountains, in a Jail cell held beneath the earth, or halfway across the world from the day before, he always arose precisely two hours before the first hint of sunlight, even if it meant only getting a wink of sleep. Joel got up with effortless silence from atop his wooden bunk bed, ensuring that he would not wake his siblings.
His siblings…that thought sent a warm tingle through him and a small smile accosted his expression. His sisters. Precious and untainted by a world of significant cruelty. He would not allow them to be corrupted.
The candles that hung about his room made it seem rustic, a taste of a place uncontaminated by modern technology. The candles were self-lit and gave a consistent warmth that penetrated the chill of a night's air. As he’d once approached them, the level of heat did not change, nor did the flames burn his hands and he held them above it. The light it gave off was more scintillating than Earth-made light bulbs yet it did not scorch his eyes as he stared into its centre. Strange Oran magic…
After quietly exiting the shared bedroom and making his way down the stairs, he went about his morning routine. Every morning back on earth, Joel’s life was intensively scheduled between training and assignments. These days, Joel found that he could finally breathe, though not in the sense that he was finally free from his relentless work ethic, but that he was finally free of his wretched, bloodied work. Joel hated his work with a passion…but on Earth, there were scant other options for orphaned gutter rats.
He stretched his joints as his thoughts simmered. He thought of Miracle’s words, with his decision due today. The process is…incomplete? How could it be?
For the past month, Joel had scoured all of the books in his home–after being put on house arrest by an outraged, worried Elena after his stunt with the villain–and he now had a small basis of understanding of the weird Oran magic powers. As it turns out, in the Year 0 A.E, an energy source called the ‘Aether’ started integrating with some citizens of Oran after they reached maturity. Some were able to obtain supernatural gifts, and some were not–it was estimated that only a quarter of the population were ‘blessed’ with it, birthing the term. Of those who were blessed, approximately 80% of them were Homo-Magi, 20% were Homo-Muti and a very, very small per cent were both.
Homo-Magi, referred to as Magicians, were able to utilise Aether Energy to perform feats of magic, able to exert their wills into fascinating spells. Their bodies were mostly unchanged from their awakening asides from the newfound capability of acting as a conduit for Aether Energy. In Aether magic, there existed many species of magic utility, from warding to runes to enchantments to sorcery to witchcraft. There were both subtle and large differences between each craft of magic. Those who specialised in warding and runes were referred to as Wizards–Joel found that this group was the one focused on Magi-tech engineering. Those who specialise in enchantments and sorcery were called Sorcerers–a more combat-related and hero-focused profession. Witches, on the other hand, dealt with grimoires, witchcraft, and necromancy–those of this group tended to be not-quite-of-sound-mind.
Homo-Muti, or referred to as Mutants, were more…directly changed by the Aether. That is, those who awakened at the testing underwent either a small, harmless transformation or a deadly intense one, sometimes completely destructive to those around them. It was one of the reasons why Aether testing was established in the first place.
The divisions of Mutants were more esoteric, having far too many differences between them to categorise them into classes. Though generalisations of them included: Physans, mutants who had physical-related mutations, Mentats, who were in some way mentally mutated, and Aspects, mutants imbued with a specific aspect such as ‘lightning’ or ‘water’ or, as Joel was familiar with, ‘flames’. Mentat mutants, as Joel researched, were beyond the rarest of the rare, making up too small of a number to be seen as a percentage. After more than a thousand years and hundreds of millions of Aether-blessed, only ninety-eight Mentats were recorded, and of those ninety-eight, only twenty-six were referred to as Psychics–a mentat with the ability to affect the physical world. Miracle, the blessed mother, was one of them, and a Sorceress named Wicked Witch, was another–whose moniker was ironic. These two, out of the group, took legendary fame. With Miracle being who she was, and the Wicked Witch for inventing the city wards hundreds of years ago, able to protect most cities in Oran in warded protective domes. Though Joel has yet to learn why cities needed the domes in the first place.
There was much to this world that Joel was currently incapable of fighting. No matter how efficient the process worked, he could not triumph against beings like Miracle who were capable of bending the laws of nature. Even his stunt with the Arsonist was nothing but sheer dumb luck. Had he faced an opponent incapable of being misdirected and distracted, he and his family would have died that day.
He needed a plan. He wanted to protect his family. He wanted them to strive, to be rich in all aspects. He wanted them to be happy. All that required knowledge, strength, power, money, and security. All that, whilst keeping them–and by extension, himself– out of the crosshairs of truly unsavoury people, either by laying low or assassinating those who wished his family harm. Either way, Joel must be capable of handling both.
Joel felt his limbs pop at their joints, the fibres of his now-recovered muscles conforming into the impossibly contorted positions he was putting his body through. At first, it was unused to such strain but after a few days, his body took to syndicate training like fish to water. It adapted far faster than Joel thought possible. It normally took him at least a year to be able to bend his body to his current degree but with Oran Joel, it barely took two weeks. There was, again, that external factor affecting him, like what he’d felt last month…Something was empowering him.
Is it the ambient Aether energy? Does it allow Oran bodies to recover faster?
It wasn’t in anything he’d read but he wanted to find out. That brought his thoughts back to Miracle’s offer of tutelage. He didn’t know her motives. She had seen everything there is to know about him.
But why didn’t she kill me?
Although as Earth Joel, he’d regretted most of his kills and every life he’d reaped, he knew he was not free of sin. He’d had the choice to stop killing–though it would send all syndicate assassins to his backyard, ready to stick a knife in his throat. In the end, it was the lives of his assignments for his own, and as someone who knew no love, he’d lacked the compassion and empathy to feel…something for his victims. The syndicate conditioning had blanketed his emotions and though the process allowed him to turn it off, he found that he did not want to at the time. Why should he feel, when there was nothing but a sea of misery?
But now it was different. The thought of someone trying to harm his family, just like the Arsonist did, sent a burning rage through him. He certainly understood sympathy now. To think of the pain he’d caused to families missing their loved ones from his wretched duties…
Joel sighed and meditated for the next few hours. He’d resolved his will. He would do no more harm to anyone who did not deserve it. It was the beginning of his recompense. If he had the chance to do good, he would strive for it.
As the first rays of sunlight warmed the sensitive nerves on his skin, he got up from his cross-legged position and went about making breakfast. After that talk about household chores being ‘woman things’ with his mother, Joel was appalled that it was not abnormal in Oran for even a family with only sons to have the mother do all the housework whilst the children sat around. It was a cultural thing, Joel supposed, and while it felt like an injustice in his morals–murky as they were–it was nothing more than a custom here.
Joel was adept at cooking, or any household chore for that matter. In the syndicate, there were no cleaners or servants or workers to do chores for them. The assassins had to take care of it themselves, and Joel was not exempt from the handling of meagre tasks even with his status as Assassin Executive. In no time at all, breakfast was readily served.
Footsteps were heard by his enhanced ears as Jill was the first person who made their way downstairs.
“Good Morning, Jill,” Joel said without turning his head.
Jill paused as she entered the kitchen.“...I hate it when you do that,” she said.
“Do what?” Joel responded, stacking up the plates with thick-cut bacon and sunny-side-up eggs.
“That!” she exclaimed, “knowing who it is without even seeing them.”
“hmm…” Joel shrugged, “you smell of lilacs in the late spring. No one else smells like you.”
Jill raised her eyebrows. “I’m going to pretend that that wasn’t mildly creepy,” she said. “...so listen, about last night.”
“I won’t tell anyone, don’t you worry,” Joel said.
“No, it’s not that,” She shook her head, “I just want you to know that I appreciate it.”
Joel gave her a warm smile before setting down her plate in front of her and its accompanying drink, an iced mocha mixed with precisely one and a half teaspoons of sugar and a dollop of whipped cream with a tiny sprinkle of cinnamon spice on top. “You’re very welcome. This is for good luck.”
Jill gave him a small smile in response as she sipped her drink. Unlike the rest of the household, she liked her morning drinks chilled. It normally entailed iced chocolate but Joel decided to change it up a bit today, seeing that she was not averse to coffee. Sure enough, her eyes widened as she took in the flavours. “This isn’t regular chocolate!”
“You like it?” Joel enquired.
“I love it,” Jill said, “what did you do?”
“Mixed in a bit of mom’s coffee,” Joel replied. Mom…Ellie would have fainted if she heard that. “Thought you’d need the extra kick for today.”
“Mmm,” she said, “it's so good! I’ve never heard of anyone mixing chocolate and coffee before!”
Joel grimaced. Oran was great in certain areas, not so great in some. Its culinary field was…simplistic. There were no complex dishes or drinks; just roasts, grilled meat, or some coffee with milk. There was no exploration or creativity, no adventure or risk. They just stuck with what worked. It was bland in that sense.
More sets of footsteps creaked the stairs and sure enough, the rest of Joel’s family entered the kitchen.
“Bacon, Bacon, Bacon!” Joanne said as she burst through the kitchen door and dashed to the table, about to start chugging down food like a starved animal.
“Joanne,” her mother said sternly, three steps behind her, which effectively stopped Joanne in her tracks, “don’t forget your manners now.”
“Ahem,” Joanne coughed, pantomiming her next actions, “Thank you for this wonderful breakfast, brother Joel.” She then gave a little curtsy to the irritation of her mother.
His little sister was no novice in the art of pissing off her mother and she knew exactly which button to press to annoy her.
“Not like that!” Elena said, “ugh, just sit down and wait until everyone is at the table.”
Brian then came over and yawned the only way an oversized man as he could. Brian was far bigger than Joel ever was in his previous life. “G’morning, Joel. Thanks for breakfast.”
“You’re welcome,” Joel responded.
“I swear,” Elena said, “ever since you started putting that…grass in the bacon, no one wants me to cook anymore!”
The grass, as she referred to it, was just rosemary and thyme. Apparently, no one on Oran knew how to cook with herbs.
“Ish-Tashte good, so i- not complainin,” said Joanne with her mouth stuffed full of bacon.
“Joanne!”
The bickering continued until they all finished their breakfast, and it wasn’t long before it was just Joel and Elena washing dishes on the kitchen sink again.
“Thank you for making such a wonderful breakfast, Joel,” Elena said.
Joel nodded. “It wasn’t much Elena,” he said, “...it’s the least I can do.”
There was a quiet lull as Elena momentarily stopped washing the dishes and it wasn’t long after that Joel found her hand in his. The familiarity of her soft caress, like all those times in the hospital, filled him with a no small sense of comfort. “Joel,” she said, turning his attention, “don’t feel like you owe us anything. Ever.”
She looked at him with that motherly compassionate gaze of hers. “Just you being here with us,” she gestured around her. Her eyes, glassed with the sheen of unfallen grateful tears, “is more than we could have ever hoped for.”
Joel smiled at her. “Ellie, seeing you all happy brings me joy. I don't do this because I have to. I do it because I want to.”
He barely finished his sentence before he was smothered by a hug. “Oh Joel, my Joel. Bless the sleeper for bringing you back to us.”
This wasn’t the first time in the past month that Elena had gotten emotional in front of him. In front of all the others, she remained so strong and dignified, a motherly figure untouched by the corruption of negative emotions. But Joel knew that she was no robot, or for that matter, a conditioned syndicate assassin. She was a mother who dearly missed her son. Joel returned the hug, feeling her tense form relaxing into his and wet droplets of tears above his shoulder blades.
The sound of quiet breathing alerted him to the presence of another person. It was Brian, standing silently in the doorway of the kitchen, looking fondly at them. Brian’s eyes caught his own and he gave a small nod and a smile of approval, one which Joel gave in return.
Family…this is my family now. Joel thought.