"There are winds of destiny that blow when we least expect them. Sometimes they gust with the fury of a hurricane, sometimes they barely fan one's cheek. But the winds cannot be denied, bringing as they often do a future that is impossible to ignore."
Number Fifteen
The seemingly inhuman shriek hurt Krad's ears, her shrill voice enough to make his muscles tense in discomfort, half-expecting a sonic boom of sorts – the kind that would send the glass in the car flying in all directions. Of course, it didn't; the car was virtually undamaged, but he was so sure it was possible he nearly braced for the impact.
All of these happened within seconds, but for Krad it was as if he was locked inside a room with blaring heavy metal screamo for an hour. His head pounded, most likely due to his proximity with the girl and the sensitivity of his hearing. There was a slight buzz in his ears; he wondered if he had gone deaf.
He sucked his breath and let it out in a wheeze, his mind working and churning idly on what to do next.
The blonde girl – Faye Summers, he remembered her full name – made a small choking sound at the back of her throat, obviously pained by her own shriek. It was obvious by the way her pupils dilated and expanded that the effects of alcohol were still heavy on her. She looked scared and distressed and astonished and wrecked all at the same time. Krad had never seen anything like it.
"Do you want something to drink?" he asked after a minute, speaking so low he thought she couldn't hear him. If she indeed screamed her lungs out, he imagined she must be parched. Water or tea might do the trick.
"O-Oh my god," she said in a scratchy voice, her hands flying over her mouth. Her fingers were still wet with his saliva, and her bringing them to cover her mouth made him feel a strange desire to – of what, he ignored for the meantime. "Tell me I'm not dreaming."
He only stared at her, making his body as motionless as possible. He didn't intend to frighten her. He didn't want her to snap and flee. If she fled, he wouldn't follow her. That would be the end of this strange encounter, and Krad would return to Las Vegas as if nothing happened. He would go back to a life led by puppet strings – which he didn't like nor minded the least.
When she did neither, he sighed inaudibly in relief. He stared at her and allowed himself to speak slowly, calmly, "You are not dreaming."
Her green eyes, rimmed with red, widened. She probably didn't expect him to respond. "You – I'm not? Surely, I am –"
"No, you're not."
"But – "
"You are very much awake."
"But," she blurted, "why am I –?"
"I said you're awake."
"But –"
"If you're not going to believe me, you shouldn't have asked."
Faye lowered her hands and locked them together, as if in prayer, her nails digging against her white knuckles. Her lower lip trembled.
"I'm not asleep." She nodded, her eyes scanning their surroundings. "Too real to be a dream."
Krad felt eased; finally, she believed him.
"Then... I'm dead, right?"
This earned her a deep frown from him. She gasped as if he confirmed her suspicions.
"This must mean I'm dead? Oh god, oh god, oh gooood!" She panicked, turning and twisting in her seat, oblivious to the fact she's restrained by the seatbelt and that her door was locked. "I'm so stupid. Gah! Oh god, did I die from alcohol poisoning? I knew I drank too much of that white liquid! Geez, how stupid can I be?"
Krad could only blink. He wasn't sure how to react, yet he answered her honestly. "No, you're not stupid. You are silly."
He knew the difference between the two; he had read the American thesaurus various times when he was bored. Most of the time, he was bored. Surely, that must mean something.
"I'm silly?" She was aghast. Krad only blinked as he responded, not sure whether the question was rhetorical or meant for him to answer.
"Yes, you are."
"How can dying be silly?"
"You are not dead."
"Yeah," she agreed easily, confusing him, "of course, I can't be dead. You are not dead either, just in coma. That must mean I'm in between?"
"Excuse me?" Did she just say he's in coma? What was he, an apparition in front of her? Krad changed his opinion. This girl is not silly; she's crazy.
He voiced out his conclusion. "You are certifiably insane. I suggest you visit the hospital –"
"But, I just woke up from a dream, and then, how can you –? I mean, in a dream...?" She wasn't making any sense, Krad thought sadly. She was so much better left asleep. The modern sleeping beauty. If only she could just remain asleep...
"Even if you're dead, I don't think you've been bad enough to land in hell with a devil such as me –"
But she didn't seem to hear him; she interrupted him again. "You are right."
Krad raised his head which he didn't realize he lowered. Again, he met her earnest green eyes. "I must be crazy. I'm having delusions. You are not who I thought you are. Oh god, what the heck is wrong with me? I must have snapped while I was..."
A nagging feeling sniffed out any rising annoyance or irritation in him. For some reasons, her words – as much as they didn't make any sense – seemed to ring a bell inside him. You are not who I thought you are. Who I thought you are...
Flashes of images accompanied his realization. The way he ached to approach her in the party, the manner she touched him when she woke up, her scars and the men pursuing her, the reason why he felt an odd attachment to her, and why of all places on earth, they – a cold-blooded criminal and a missing celebrity, both hiding in the shadows – happened to be both present in an unlikely and ludicrous event... Krad didn't believe in coincidences. There was and will always be an explanation.
Before he realized it, he raised the question crucial to him and his future, the question he always asked but no one answered.
"Who am I?"
Faye froze, her hands in mid-air, as she held his steady gaze. Krad noticed that her eyes looked like windows, clear as glass; he could almost read every emotion and thought passing through her mind. She's had an ageless innocence that left her vulnerable, open for the world to see.
"Who... are you?" she repeated as if she was testing how the words tasted like. She appeared to find them bitter. "You are asking me, who are you?"
"I just did, didn't I?"
In her eyes, he saw something flash. Comprehension. Intelligence. A mind working to make loose ends meet.
"You... don't remember anything." She said it as if it was both a statement and a question. "You don't remember... me."
"Yes," he said, glad for once that she was smart enough to find out. He didn't like discussing the issue of his lost memory; it made him feel pathetic.
Faye's bright eyes dimmed, as if the fire in them were quenched by a tsunami. He braced himself for the tears; he expected them and had thought of how to placate a crying girl. He knew he had read one such article before.
"Turn around."
"What?" He quirked a brow.
"You're not deaf. Don't let me repeat myself."
Krad was struck with a feeling he couldn't identify as he heeded her order – order, not request. He observed the bright noisy crowded streets beyond the darkly-tinted windows, pretending to be absorbed by the sight before him. Even if he couldn't see the girl beside him, he could hear her stifling her sobs and could almost feel her shoulders shaking.
"Why are you crying?" he asked, not out of concern but out of curiosity. "Did I say something wrong?"
He needed it for future references. He didn't like seeing innocent people cry. Bastards he could tolerate their begging and yelling, but not civilians. He was meant to protect them, not upset them. Even if they too were tools for humanity, they were still people...
"I'm not," she said stubbornly. "I'm just... redoing my make-up."
"Liar."
"That's rude you know... for someone who is basically, basically a s-stranger."
Krad couldn't understand why women are so emotional. Why was she crying? Because he lost his past, something precious, something that defined him as a person? Was she crying because he was incapable of such an act? Was she crying for him?
"You know me, right?" he queried quietly, noticing for the first time that the moon was full in the night sky.
"Honestly? I don't."
"But, you did know me," he insisted in his ever-calm voice. He turned around, watching her small, slim back, fighting the urge to touch her. Her blonde hair was pulled to one side, and he knew she was twisting it in her fingers.
She was silent. Minutes passed and she didn't answer.
"Faye –"
"If you don't know me, how come you know my name?" Her voice was firm, business-like.
He didn't need to explain, but he felt like she deserved to hear his answer, "The world is commemorating the first year anniversary of your disappearance, Faye Summers. You are principally in every store and shop in the country."
He heard her sigh. "Figures."
"So, did you know me?" His voice was still gentle, but he was starting to get impatient. "It's just yes or no –"
"Do you like cheese?"
"What?" he asked, quite dumbly.
"Do you like cheese or milk or anything dairy?" This time it was her who faced him. Not a trail of tears was visible on her cheeks; they were not stained. She obviously tried her best to keep her waterworks in check. She noticed his scrutiny and blushed, a faint pink just across the cheekbones. "Well, I promised myself I won't cry when the time comes... I don't want you to see... I-I didn't expect this like this... and you like my smiles the best so..." she stammered, blushing harder. "Uhm, so do you like cheese?"
Krad didn't understand her train of thoughts. "Cheddar is passable," he answered simply.
Faye's face made him rethink his words. "No, I mean, I'm not fond of buying food at luxury, just what the other agents bought for me, but now that you mentioned it... I like my pizzas extra cheesy."
She smiled, a genuine breathtaking smile that seemed to be illuminated by the silver moonlight, and for some unknown reasons, he found it contagious.
"Welcome back." She pulled him into a hug and awkwardly, he returned it, allowing himself for the first time in so long a human gesture that was neither violent nor lustful. It felt good, comforting. "I miss you so much."
"I can't say I feel the same way," he said truthfully.
She laughed. It sounded hollow in his ears. She was in pain, and she was keen on hiding it from him. "I can't blame you for that, Gneiss."
"Nice. Is that my name?" He pulled away from her, keeping her at arm length, his broad hands on her bare shoulders. "Is that some sort of joke? I am sure as hell that I'm not the nicest person out there – "
This time she giggled like a school girl. "Now, look who's being silly! Your true name is Gneiss, not nice. Gneiss Underwood. G-N-E-I-S-S."
"A metamorphic rock?" He sounded amused.
"Yes," she grinned cheekily. "Wow. You know your geology subject well. It seems like it's one of the things you didn't forget."
"I have books as friends."
"Always the nerd."
"Have I?"
"Yes, and annoying too."
"I think you are the annoying one."
"Hey!"
And then they laughed. It was a weird sensation. Krad felt... light. It was as if everything he had been carrying for the last few months were slowly dissipating. Bit by bit, their laughter died out. He knew then that she was someone he could trust. He knew it would be all right to open to her. She was someone he could confide in.
"What are you to me?" He gingerly held her blonde hair. "Are you my sister or cousin? Though we don't exactly look alike, you feel like family."
She only stared at him, judging his expression. He imagined it to be soft, curious, a face he only wore when he had a book in his hands.
"My hair is dyed, you know," she said with a flat tone. He continued to play with her long hair.
"I know. It's brown. I've seen the pictures."
She dropped her gaze and for a moment, he thought she's not going to answer.
"We were best friends."
Were, past tense. She was probably talking about the fact that he was gone for months, and the past him and her were friends. She was giving him the option to keep or disregard that bond. His lips curved into an involuntary smile. Not merely an ally, but a friend. Who knew killers could have friends?
Friends.
He straightened at the thought.
"I'm called Krad now."
"Krad." The opposite of darkness, light. "Who gave you that?"
"My trainer."
Her brows burrowed. "Why Krad?"
"I don't know."
Faye nibbled her lower lip. "Well, I guess, you can keep Krad for a while. Even among the other agents, we keep our real names hidden. No one calls me Faye too, you know, except friends and only when we're alone... Is something wrong?"
His blue eyes bore heavily on hers. Her smile was beautiful, but he realized that it was strained. She was talking about things she didn't like, yet she was smiling. He didn't know what to make out of it – whether she's a martyr or an idiot. "Do you remember – or even have an inkling – as to why you are with me, here, in your car?"
She looked around. "Now that you mentioned it... I don't know. The very reason why I screamed to my wits end."
Krad let her go, completely, and placed his hands on the steering wheel. "There are guys after you. You were in danger."
She thought about it for a while, recalling fragments of the night. "I'm sorry. I think I was fully out of it. I can't remember..."
"You were smashed. They already had you in their arms when I intervened."
"And you followed me because?"
"I don't know." He shrugged it off, but continued. "But that's not the point. I want to know why. Is it because... I am a killer?"
Her eyes widened.
"You know that, don't you?"
She didn't speak, but she nodded.
"So, was I right? Were they trying to kidnap you because of retribution, because you are connected to me? Was I the reason why you suddenly disappeared from show business? I've been thinking about it. The reason I lost my memories. My trainer said that I had an accident with my last mission and I have severe amnesia. No memories, but my body was fit to fight and remember instinctively things from my past... so my assumption is that he is not lying about that part. If we were friends and you were someone famous, I think that it's probably my fault that –"
"Whoa, rein your horses," Faye whispered, placing her scarred left hand on top of his right hand. He was gripping the stirring wheel as if his hands were talons and claws. "You're reading too much into it."
"So you're saying I got partly right?"
She exhaled loudly but didn't answer him. "No doubt, you are still the same person. You are always weighing endless options, checking through all possibilities and frequently second-guessing yourself."
"But, am I right?"
She shrugged nonchalantly. "I don't know. I don't think anyone alive still remembers you as... you."
"What do you mean?"
"It's..." She chewed her lower lip, "a very long and complicated story."
"I got all the time in the world."
"Yes, of course." Faye had a thoughtful, strained and equally determined expression on her child-like face; it was in essence a beautiful contradiction. "When, when you said killer... you mean you are till this instance contracted to an organization?"
"Yes."
"Creed, I assume."
"Yes."
She sighed, miffed. "I knew it."
"Knew what?" Krad was completely lost now. He didn't understand what she was saying. It was like she made a decision to speak in Pig Latin.
"Tell me everything you remember," she said, ordering him for the second time. He then noticed that she, even with her size and demeanor, held a certain cloak of authority on her fragile shoulders, "while we drive back to the facility."
She noticed his quizzical stare so she explained. "The Manhattan branch is one of the main facilities of Creed, which were at most two in each continent, followed by smaller factions branching out to other areas. It's hidden, undetected and fully equipped. We will contact the HQ. From there, we'll know what's going on."
"What do you mean what's going on?"
"Where are you stationed?" she asked distracted.
"Las Vegas," he told her without holding back anything. He trusted her; she was smart. He felt that whatever was bothering her, she would tell him once she made sure that she was correct.
"That's in 13's area. Do you know 13?"
"13?"
"Old man, thin, leathery, always wears casual clothes like denims and shirts," she elaborated. "Real raspy voice. Face an eternal scowl. His real name is Vladimir."
"I'm not sure... there are lots of old men in the Vegas faction. There's no giant facility, like you're saying. Just a small group of men cleaning the city from filth."
"There you go," she huffed, "the ever famous motto of Creed. Cleaning the world from filth. I'm sure, you've met 13 and he probably was the one training you."
"I can't confirm. My trainer never told me his name. Do you have a picture?"
She shook her head. "Have you seen his right hand? There's supposed to be a spidery black ink in the form of the digits 13 on it. All Equations have tattoos."
"Equations? Now, I don't really follow what you are saying."
Faye let a weary sigh as she tucked her blond hair into a messy bun. It looked sexy together with the stylish red satin gown she was wearing, Krad mused.
"Typical of them to hide things from you," she frowned. "Now, let's head to the Aleph Building in the North, 13 miles, East 2 miles, while I explain things to you on the way."
"Got it."
He pulled out of the parking lot and followed her directions, his mind mentally ordering everything he learned tonight. It was odd, this sense of tranquility he never felt even in sleep. He was trained to sleep lightly, to be alert even in rest, that this peace flowing through his body felt too alien. But he liked it. He liked whatever he felt, and he was glad he followed his instincts and followed Faye. If he didn't, he would have lost all chances of recovering what was his.
"Stay with me. Ignore what you see or what you hear," Faye spoke in a cold, detached tone when they arrived in front of the Aleph, a giant establishment filled with night shoppers and diners. As they entered the building, Krad realized that the first floor was entirely a mall filled with boutiques and salons and shops of all sorts and sizes. The second and third floors were parts of an expensive Asian restaurant, and the fourth floor and above... wasn't a five-star hotel like it claimed to be.
To enter the upper floors, an identification card and fingerprint analysis were necessary. He also noticed two CCTV cameras positioned cautiously inside the sleek glass elevator. If he didn't know better, he would have thought he was entering a fashionable military den. In a way, it was.
Everyone inside were wearing gray suits of varying hues, like the ones agents used in Krad's faction. When Faye entered, all their heads turned to her as if they were metal fillings and she's a magnet. A handful of them approached with a pleased smile and started talking at once.
"Glad you're back, 00."
"Did you hear anything from Glen and the others? They're still not back."
"Their cars were traced to be in Area CD34; they were following and they lost you."
"So, who's the pretty boy? It's your first time bringing home one."
As Faye ordered, Krad ignored everything around him.
"I'm so glad you've grown up," sniffed the woman, addressing Faye, mock-crying as another guy smacked her head. "Aren't you going to introduce your toy to us?"
A man growled. "Stop that, Lucy."
"But –"
Krad didn't understand. If Faye too was an agent like him... how come everyone here seemed to be comfortable – fond even – of her? Wasn't it part of the manual that agents were better off alone, that emotions and other irrational things inhibit the success of a mission? That partiality could lead to committing crime? He also had a hunch that Faye was no ordinary agent. She's a --
"Sorry, I have something urgent." Faye's soft, musical voice pulled him out of his thoughts. "I'm heading to the Command. Tell the others to avoid the area for a while."
"Gonna do something naughty?" The woman wiggled her brows.
"Lucy!" The same man exclaimed, visibly appalled.
Faye marched through them with Krad on her heels. They entered a different elevator, punched the 45th button, and arrived on the top floor. Her silence – scratch that, her change of attitude from a silly, crazy girl to this, this person in front of him was disorienting. Was she schizophrenic?
The entire floor was one giant room, the largest he had ever seen, only divided by the furniture and wooden partitions of an ethnic style. Plants and fur carpets were arranged to make the place look cozy, but the gadget and weapon displays on the shelves, and the huge black marble tables and leather couches made the room a professional and intimidating package.
Faye headed straight to a black, paper-filled desk and picked-up a remote, switching on the LCD screen placed near the glass walls. She entered a lengthy password, the screen blinked red, and then something white flashed. For minutes, a message saying, 'loading' stayed on the gray screen.
He heard a crackle, and he only realized that she made a video call when the face of the Master appeared on it. Krad was about to step in front of his line of view and greet him when Faye snapped at the man.
"I want you to explain something."
"And good evening to you too, Agent 00," their Master replied in a monotone, his eyes fixed on a document he was reading. He was seated on his grand chair, buried with work. "This is an emergency line. I advise you not to contact me unless you really are under attack and is experiencing red alert."
"This is an emergency."
"Oh?"
Faye sounded furious. Krad wondered how easily her mood changes. More than that, her insolence surprised him. Of all the people to hate, she hated their Master? Krad talked to him once, only hours after he woke up without any memories; the man was civil and straightforward. All other agents adored him like a father, a savior. Besides, he was the head of the organization that prevents the world from being swallowed by darkness and chaos.
He was a man of justice, true justice. How could Faye treat him this way and why was he letting her?
"01 is still under 06's observation," Kreuz said dispassionately. "If that's all, drop the call. I have more important things to do."
"Do you have proof?" Faye challenged. "That 06 is doing his job?"
Kreuz sighed, obviously too tired to argue, or possibly because Faye would badger him until he gives in and he was used to it. He retrieved a black device, inputted a code and suddenly, a new window popped out of the screen.
Krad's heart stopped at the sight of the glass-enclosed body shown on the link. Multiple tubes were attached to it, three life-support machines attached to the sterilized container. Air seemed to be sucked out of his lungs, his guts punched and kicked at the same time. He looked at Faye, back to the screen, then to Faye again.
"Satisfied, agent?" the Master asked offhandedly, his eyes still on his documents.
"Who is that?" At the sound of Krad's voice, Kreuz raised his head and his tired eyes visibly widened. For the first time, he noticed that Faye wasn't alone on the other side of the video call. He dropped everything he was holding. The white sheets scattered on his desk, on his lap, on the floor.
"Exactly," Faye drawled tonelessly, her arms crossed over her chest, "Master, care to explain why there are two Gneisses?"
*
Unedited