Asylum

Black Knight

Perhaps I could utilize Xavier, once he's cooled down from me dangling his brother's whereabouts in his face. The tip of my finger touches the opposing bishop. Like his brother, he moves swiftly and dangerously, but unlike the middle Walker, he is flexible. But like the queen, he is out of the picture for now, but I'll pocket the piece until a pawn brings him back to me.

My light eyes wander to the queen on my side. I know about Kya's dark strain, too, and what will happen if she's pushed too far. Sighing, I tap my chin, pondering over possibilities. A dark queen could certainly sabotage someone has weak as the pawn of Cerberus. All I have to do is send out a team to attack her friends, and when it gets tight, she'll break and use that beautifully ugly power of hers. Two more times and she's evil, after all.

Now, to start putting together a team.

There's a knock on my metallic door, and I break into a chuckle. Every chess game is played fair and square, making it hard for me to appreciate it at times. Which is why I always keep an extra piece or two up my sleeve.

I add a rogue piece in the middle of the board – a plastic black knight; one that is unexpected when it comes into a wise play. And certainly, nobody will expect this dark horse to make an appearance.

Turning towards the door, I cross my legs and fold my hands, pleased with all my little ducks lining up in a row. "Come in, Keller."

A boy once wandered the city, searching for a trace of his mother, and instead found me. I discovered that this 12-year-old was searching for a woman who left his father's side long ago. However, that was all he would speak about his past. Well, that and his grudge against a man who "sputtered fire," as he put it. I eased him into Supernatural Detaining, where I began his training. The only person who ever started as young as Keller was Reaper. During her travels, she fell in love with Takumi in India. From the start, I knew she was defective. But Keller has travelled near and far, and those same, lightless eyes deprived of happiness never fail to disappoint me. Keller came in as a boy and began working as a man. He looks like he could be in his late teens or early 20's, but he's only 14, now. Being ruthless wears and tears the body, like it clearly did on Reaper, but chisels one's figure into perfection, like is has with Keller.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" Keller inquires, eyeing my chessboard. I pluck the black knight and toss it to him. With lightning reflexes, he catches it, dull eyes never parting from the board until he uncurls his fist. "An outlier knight," he acknowledges, voice still a bit high, but containing enough anger at the world to make him sound my age. "What game are we playing, next?"

Studying him as Keller studies the board, I test him to see how much he still feels connected to his roots. With time, I was able to pry out answers of where he really came from. Keller was always uneasy around me, but comfortable enough because I gave him a home. Sometimes you remind me of my father, he once told me. Keller never speaks, scarred and traumatized from his past. I had asked, Is that why you're able to sit with me during lunch? Most agents stray far away from me, and rightfully so.

No, Keller denied. Because you took me in is why I sit with you. Because you remind me of my father is why I may sometimes be mistaken for a mute.

"Walker," I snap. Anyone watching from the outside would wonder if Keller actually heard me. But he's wise and silent, always analyzing a situation before offering his input. The sign that he heard me is the tightening of his eyes and the feathering of his jaw. He dejects that name more than any other, which is why he goes by his mother's last name.

"There is no Walker here," Keller growls, dimmed golden eyes slowly tracing the room until he meets my own eyes. "What is it you wanted to see me for? Why am I playing the knight?"

"You're leading a team of your own, Keller," I inform him. "An incognito team. Grow your hair back out, so it doesn't look so official. An ordinary boy would never sport a crew cut." Skinny fingers trace the shockingly blonde hair, clipped to his forehead. He once had long, nearly white hair that almost covered both his eyes.

"The age difference might be a bit difficult to manage," Keller points out, twirling the chess piece between his fingers. Then he tosses it back to me, where I replace the glass horse with the plastic one. "You want me to integrate?"

"Smart boy," I note. "That would be ideal. These pieces represent Walker and his friends. If you can gain his trust, then it would be the perfect situation."

"I'm incapable," Keller admits, knowing where he's weak instead of being blindly proud like Reaper. "Of course, you have a backup plan?"

"I do," I admit, idly touching the glass pieces and tracing the squares on the board.

"You won't tell me," he states, not asking a question, but letting me know that he's realized it.

"I want you to grow as an agent, Keller. Make your own plan, then get your own team. If you're going too south, I might steer you back on the right path."

"Understood."

"Profiles are in the briefing room," I tell him.

Keller nods, then stares at me with a blank expression, waiting for my dismissal. He's a patient agent, with a face as telling as a brick wall. He's a stoic son of a gun. I don't know if it's because he's always lived in his own head, or if it's because of what happened to make him run from home, or if it's a trait he took on from me.

"Dismissed," I wave off.

Obediently, he nods and swivels on his heels, heading for the door.

"Malakai," I call before he's out the door. Halting at the sound of his first name, which is rarely spoken, he waits for me to speak, but does not turn around. "If the agents you choose don't give you authority because of your age, feel free to remind them why you're in charge. Do so in any way you see fit."

He nods, then takes that as his cue to leave. Keller silently shuts the door behind me, and though I don't see his face anymore, I'm willing to bet there was the quirking of the corner of his mouth. Asserting dominance was always priority with Keller among the others. His young age, thin stature, and silence always made the others think he was weak. Normally, the people here are loud and bold; braggadocios of all their victories. From the start, Keller was picked on. I let it happen, hardening the boy.

Keller's a quick learning. Always was. Soon, he learned how to use that thin frame of his to cause some serious damage. People don't pick on him quite as much, anymore. After the first 10 critically injured agents who crossed him, the agency learned to keep their distance. Still, they verbally taunted him and teased him behind his back. Keller wasn't oblivious to it. He just didn't care. He knew he was far more superior and intelligent than them, and for him, that's always been enough. Though there's no denying the tiny thrill I know he feels whenever he establishes respect by physically abusing a fellow agent.

I like to think it was me who made him that way, but I've a hunch that he became this way around the time just before I found him.

Turning towards the chessboard, I grin at the plastic horse on the board, standing out like a sore thumb. As if it's also made of glass, I pick it up by my index and thumb fingers, then hold it up in the light. "Malakai Keller," I sigh. "My shining black knight. May you destroy everything in your path."