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Prologue: What's your Story?
"My ma always told me.. 'I was her anchor.' " Within a dark room sat a battered and bruised Kent, there was no one there, just him, a table, the chair he sat upon and the darkness that surrounded him. His features were illuminated only slightly, a single light above cast downward shadows that melted into the gloom abound. Low electronic humming could be heard, before Kent's lips parted once more. A droplet of blood had found its way leaking down his nose, down to his chin before it eventually found a new home on the table below. A sharp inhale followed forcing any residue blood upward, and a hand moved to plug the hole for a moment.
"I.. Wasn't able to keep her anchored to this world tho' it seems." Light scoff left him, weak smile tugging at his lips. Both hands moved to rest upon the steel table before him, one holding the other, grasp tightening as he spoke.
"She passed. 2140, it was Autumn, October correct?" That humming before was the power of the speaker system, a single speaker up in the corner of the room spoke out. The question was met with a nod from Kent who looked up toward the mirror in front of him. He saw nothing but himself, the most striking visual being his almost otherworldly cerulian hues. On the other side was the voice that spoke to him, he knew that. For a few moment he stared pass his own reflection, an attempt to pierce through to the other side.
"So... This story time?" Kent spat out suddenly, gaze tightening. "Thought all you needed was some work done, and I'm off tha hook." His tone was a mocking one, this prompted a light chuckle from the speaker on the other side of that one way mirror.
"Invictus is always on the lookout for fresh talent. But talent with baggage is just that.. Baggage." An audible 'hmph' followed by an amused smirk from Kent was seen. "We've done our research Kent. We do require to hear from your lips, your story." Kent sat forward a bit on his seat, weight moving to rest on his elbows that pressed against the table.
"Testin' to see if I am sane?" He mused.
"Testing to see if you are useful." The speaker replied bluntly. Another nod from Kent was given as he eased himself back into that steel chair he was sitting on. One arm came back to lean casually on the back of that chair. His blues shifted to the table for a moment, he was collecting his thoughts.
"Where ya want me to begin?"
"With the Untamed. Says here in your file, you consider them a second family." This was met with another nod from the male, after though silence lingered. Upon Kent's face it was apparent he was recalling, remembering everything that had happened. Eyes strained for a moment as the memories began to shift their way into place, like mental puzzle pieces within his mind. Another shift in position, those ever so slightly glowing blues pulled upward to gaze at the person behind the mirror; his tanned lips parted to speak.
The scene, a younger Kent walking down the streets of the Bronx. The sky always held that grayish hue, clouds always willing to hang above that part of town. Everyday was the same deal, attend school, walk home, take care of his mother. Some days were better than others, those days being the ones where she actually remembered her son. The worst days was the yelling, the screaming, the shrieks of panic when she saw his face. During those days, he just wasn't her son.. Only a stranger, his face unrecognizable to her.
Once her panic subsided the day would continue as usual, he would bathe her, dress her, feed her.. Kent's favorite time of day was always past 9:00 pm. It was around this time, she would truely recall who he was to her. Her son, and as she lovingly referred to him, "Her anchor." Nights were spent on the couch of their small studio apartment, curled up within a blanket as the two watched TV together, and every day it was the same movie, Sound of Music.
Kent's mother was frail in body and mind. The pictures of mountain tops, of rolling green hills, the singing, the dancing.. The freedom. He knew she longed for this. Even though the trains roared right outside their apartment shaking their small home, in spite of the yelling and screaming outside.. Sometimes followed by gunshots.. Inside that apartment all that mattered was them. The outside was drowned out by her son's love, he made it a point to do this.. To be with her.
Some days were better than others, and on those days Kent would skip his classes get the wheelchair ready, and the two would go out for a stroll in Joseph Rodman Park not too far away from home. Though each time they left, she would eagerly and excitedly chirp to be taken to St.John's church, and her son would concede, every time. Sometimes they were able to attend mass, other times just stare at the church itself from the outside. For Kent, he would do anything to see his mother's eyes light up; and upon gazing upon that church they did so. It was like a beacon of hope, as much religions usually are. A means of granting strength to accept the things we simply cannot change… And that change was coming sooner than both were prepared for.
One day Kent arrived home, and there she was sitting on the couch, her body slumped as it usually was. As he turned the corner to greet her as he usually did, the boy was not met with a loving smile of remembrance.. Nor was he met with a shriek of mental absence. Her eyes stared outward, there was no life in them.. They were vacant, glazed over. Within her hand she held onto a piece of paper slightly wrinkled, scribbled almost incoherently, repeatedly, were the words. "My Anchor."
Heart was heavy, he felt sickened to his stomach, and legs gave out as he nearly collapsed onto his mother. Fingers buried themselves deep into her garments that hung from her hollow body.. There he sobbed, face buried deep into folds of cloth, underneath there was no warmth.. Nothing but the chill of death and it caused his hairs to stand on end.
Within a week the boy was garbed in black, those familiar gray clouds accompanied him as he stood before a grave. Upon stone engraved 'Himeko Arai'. All had left after the service, the smell of fresh dirt filled his nostrils as dampened blues remained fixated on that tombstone before him. Rain had soaked him in the bone, but all that repeated within was the same words. "I was not a strong enough anchor."
"I was not a strong enough anchor."
"I was not strong enough.."
What came next? Well the teachers of his school knew Kent's plight and as such knew he had nowhere else to go.. He was a good kid, he needed a home. But.. To Kent he no longer had a home. The home wasn't the Bronx, it wasn't Hunt's Point.. And it wasn't that studio apartment.. His home was buried six feet below the soil.. What happened next he could not explain, emotions stirred up in him, legs moved on their own.. And before he knew it he was running.
He ran far as his legs could take him. Rain pelted his body, water seeped into his skin, the cold bit at his bones.. But he felt none of it, the only thing that was felt was the overwhelming sense of loss. Body carried him, he had no destination until he was forced to a stop.
The Bronx River.
Body lingered, lungs pumping air in and out quickly as pants tried to stabilize his breathing. Hands grasped tightly onto the railing as sullen blues gazed downward towards the murky river below. Teeth grit closed as he hoisted himself on top of that railing. There, time slowed.. His ears were filled with the rushing water below and the sound of his own heartbeat, he could feel it in his rasped throat as the cold air tore away at him.
"Jump."
He thought to himself.
"Just jump."
Again words filled his mind, but body would not budge. Anger filled him.
"Jump damn it!"
Kent wanted to, he wanted to end it right now, he wanted his body to be at the bottom of that river.. But, he couldn't do it.. Something was weighing him down. Something was stopping him, was it fear? We all fear death, and a boy at the age of ten was no different.
"Hey! What are you doin'!?"
A quick gasp of surprise left Kent, his body quickly whipped around to see who addressed him; upon doing so slicked shoes upon metal gave way. His heart dropped as he felt weightless, blue eyes stared in a mixture of shock and fear at the boy who called out to him. He.. He didn't want to die! He really didn't! Kent's hand outstretched to him before he plummeted downward into the freezing waters below. As the boy sunk deeper and deeper, he could see the light above fade until all he could feel was the cold, and see nothing but the murky deep. Air left him, as did any hope of getting out.. Slowly a strange sense of content filled him as eyes drifted close. He was not brave enough to make the dive.. He to weak to make the jump himself.. This filled his mind as consciousness blurred into unconsciousness.
Suddenly a rasped breath of air sharply filled his lungs, eyes shot open to catch glimpse of the boy who called out to him before. Kent's eyes met the other's green hues until water came up, out it came spewing from his mouth and what followed was a deep cough as lungs struggled to push out any remaining water.
"Whoa whoa… Easy there!" The boy exclaimed narrowly dodging the spewed up water. Weakened wheezing and coughs continued as disoriented eyes came into view, next to the soaked boy was a blonde girl.. They looked to be brother and sister.. And where was he? As the fog cleared his eyesight came, he was able to make out where the three were, at the foot of the river. He could feel a small hand press into his shoulder prompting Kent to look about in his delirium towards the owner, the girl.
"Can you hear me!?" Tears were welled up in her eyes, stains soaking into her cheeks as looked Kent over.. She couldn't have been older than six. A sudden sharp slap to the back of the head was felt forcing Kent to wince in pain, quickly eyes shot towards the culprit, the boy who was just as soaked as him, panting heavily.
"The hell is wrong with you!? You tryin' to die!?"
Kent for a moment took in his enraged form silently before he began to feel his eyes tear up as well, in front of the two he began to sob uncontrollably. Knees found themselves at his chest as he curled into a ball, a means of safety. Kent had not expected to be where he was now, he had not expected to try and kill himself.. And he had not expected to meet his future family like this..
What he had found in that river was not what he was expecting to find..
A new home.
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