CHAPTER THREE

THE SUN SHINES BRIGHTLY against his closed eyelids, his skin gleaming with sweat yet he remains unmoved. Sprawled out in the recently cut green grass, a sigh of serenity falls from his lips as a faint smile traces across his lips. The wind caresses him, the sky kisses him, and here he feels truly at peace.

Behind him a front door clicks open, small feet pattering down the stone steps and scampering over to him. He knows it's coming, but he acts clueless nonetheless just to see that brilliant smile on her face. As expected, she throws herself across him, roaring as if she were the scariest monster. He plays the frightened card for her sake, jumping and letting out a yelp. Her giggles instantly take over.

"Rawr!" she yells, trying to tickle him. "The Tickle Monster got you!"

"Oh no," he cries. "Not the Tickle Monster!"

Her small, round face fills with light as a grin breaks out of her. She situates to where she's sitting on top of his stomach, legs crossed, then holds her tiny hands up, wiggling her fingers like claws. She tries to scrunch her face to make it intimidating, and he has to stifle a laugh at her attempt.

"The Tickle Monster always wins!"

"No, please, I'll do anything," he says dramatically, placing the back of his hand on his forehead. "I can't survive the tickles."

She bares her teeth at him. "I won't tickle you if you get Lady Penny a double-scoop strawberry ice cream from Mister Ice."

"You drive a hard bargain," he tells her, "but I have no choice but to accept. When shall we go get Lady Penny's ice cream?"

"Now," she says, dropping her arms and scary face as quickly as she put them on. She rubs her belly. "Lady Penny really wants ice cream."

He heaves a dramatic sigh of relief. "Thank goodness the Tickle Monster is gone."

She giggles. "You're such a scaredy cat, Eddie."

"Well, can you blame me? Lady Penny has some scary servants!" He pokes her belly, increasing her giggles.

Young Penelope climbs off of him, offering him her hand though he's double her height. "Come on, scaredy cat. I'll help you up."

He grabs her small hand in his large one, letting her pull yet he makes himself even heavier, digging his heels in the grass and laying back. She huffs, determined. She plants her own feet in the ground, grabbing his hand with both of hers as she tugs with all her feeble strength.

"Eddie, come on, come on! I want ice cream!"

He laughs, finally giving in and pushing to his feet though Penelope claims to have done all the work. "Did you tell Mom we're going for ice cream?"

Penelope averts her gaze. "No..."

"Go on. I'll wait. But if you don't hurry, I might go get that double-scoop strawberry cone for myself."

Her bright eyes go wide as she turns on her heel and runs back through the front door.

Edward tips his head back for the sun to embrace him again.

Penelope runs back out, jumping excitedly as she takes his hand. The nineteen and seven year old begin their walk down the sidewalk. Mister Ice isn't too far from their neighborhood, about a five minute walk if there's no stopping and they keep a decent pace. It's a tradition for Penelope and Edward to walk for ice cream at least twice a week, but this week is special for this is their third run for the cold delight.

A car speeds by unreasonably fast, causing Edward to glare at it long after it passes. It's not unusual for people to disobey the speed limit, but they're still in the residential area. The car doesn't even pause at the stop sign, nearly forcing a collision with another driving properly. Edward tightens his hand around Penelope's, putting her further into the grass. He always walks along the road with her safely in the grass, but for some reason that doesn't feel good enough on this particular day.

Once on the main road, Mister Ice is the first shop of the strip mall to their right. Penelope grins as she orders her usual ice cream that every employee also knows by heart, and Edward gets his usual small sundae cup with hot fudge. While they wait for their treats, he can't help but to look out the window, a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Then a customer in the back stands abruptly, his chair screeching against the tile as his tablet falls from his hands, clattering onto the table. "Turn on Channel 7 now!"

Confused but curious, an employee does as they're asked, the only television in the shop switching to the news. The place falls eerily quiet--no whispering, no ice cream machines churning, no outside noise--except for the news anchor rapidly speaking in a panicked tone. On the screen, footage of homes on fire and traffic jams that stretch for miles play.

"North Korea has officially made their first attack on the United States. Two bombs were dropped over Washington D.C. hardly an hour ago, blowing the White House to smithereens. There's no word on the president's whereabouts or if he's still alive--" The woman pauses long enough to listen to whatever her earpiece is telling her. The background video switches to a harbor where soldiers climb off a large military boat. Soldiers that are not the United States'.

With watery eyes, obviously terrified, the woman begins again. "This just in, North Korean soldiers have breached California's borders and are shooting down any person they see. It's incredibly dire that you stay in your homes with your doors locked and--"

The television and the lights in the shop abruptly turn off. Everything is still clear with the sun out, but instinct tells Edward this is not a coincidental power outage.

All at once, major havoc breaks loose.

Employees scramble to the back to leave, mothers and children are crying and husbands are yelling, bystanders push and shove to exit. Edward doesn't have to think twice before picking Penelope up, thankful he's close to the door. Ice cream forgotten, Penelope sobs and clutches him tightly while he runs back towards their house.

"Eddie, what's going on?" she shouts over the chaos occurring on the streets. Cars have stopped, wreck after wreck lining the road with angry, scared driving starting brawls and screaming rude words.

"It's going to be okay," he tells her, praying it's not a full out lie.

Right when he's turning into their neighborhood, a gunshot rings through his ears, instinctively making him drop to his knees and cradle Penelope's head, hunched over her. A second gunshot fires, and he cautiously looks around to see that it came directly from behind them--a livid driver yelling about how another driver ruined his paintjob, and the victim lays on the pavement in a puddle of his own blood.

Shudders run down Edward's spine, and it takes great deal of effort to get his stiff legs sprinting again. Penelope is crying harder.

His mother is also a sobbing mess when he gets inside, though she instantly takes Penelope into her arms. She has the news on, and while his mother walks off with Penelope to calm them both, Edward watches the world crumble.

***

Harry's eyes peel open, heavy with drowsiness.

His body hurts all over but it's mainly his head.

Oh, how his head is pounding.

Memory after memory overwhelm him, each like a full punch to his brain. Sometimes they're full scenes, other times they're merely past thoughts and pictures. Some are just quick, pointless memories while others weigh his body down with dread and despair.

Like this last one.

He hasn't remembered what happened to Penelope yet, but he has a feeling that memory would be better off lost forever.

He's been falling in and out of sleep, in and out of memories, for what feels like years now. Maybe it's just because he's reliving literally every year of his life.

Edward. His name is--was Edward.

Edward had a loving mother, a hard-working father, and a little sister that filled his life with immense joy. Edward had girlfriends, a handful of them, but his longest and most recent was Rylie. A redhead with hazel eyes and a soft face, personality pure gold. She had made Edward smile with just the slightest look, had made him absolutely lovesick.

However, she did nothing to Harry.

He and Edward were two very different people living in very different worlds.

Harry does not have a loving mother, a hard-working father, or a little sister that fills his life with immense joy. He does not have girlfriends, but he does have--had--his own Rylie.

Evelyn.

His heart aches at the thought of Micah not keeping his word. He supposes he'll never know what happened to her.

He closes his eyes as his head pounds. A memory does not come. They arrive in intervals, sometimes back to back and other times within the span of minutes to hours. Always in order, though. He thinks he's remember just about everything except the most recent, considering he's now at the memories of being nineteen. Is he still nineteen or has a birthday passed him by unnoticed?

A door opens loudly, sounding as if it were right next to him. His ears hurt from the noise. But when he manages to look, the only door to the room he's in has not opened. Had he heard it from down the hall? It's a possibility, but even with his adept hearing, a noise from that distance has never sounded so... booming.

Footsteps. Stomping footsteps. Harry groans and presses his hands against his head, wincing as the footsteps get louder. And louder.

And louder.

His eyes are watering when the footsteps finally stop. Now, it is the door to his room that opens. Although the person turns the knob very carefully, pushes the door open very quietly, Harry still has to grit his teeth. Why is everything so loud?

It's Doctor Stevens, a grim look on his face. His forehead creases when he notices Harry is awake. "Can you hear me?" His lips barely move with the words yet it sounds to Harry like he's speaking at a normal volume.

He nods frantically, still in pain from the footsteps but forces himself to lower his arms to his sides. He uses his elbows to prop himself up on the metal table. There's wires connected to him on his forehead, chest and arms. There's an IV in his hand with multiple tubes latched to it. He doesn't bother questioning any of it; quite frankly, he doesn't have the strength.

The doctor's uneasy expression shifts into a satisfied grin. "Very good," he says, still hardly moving his mouth. "You've always been a success, 748, and this time around is no different."

Harry grunts, trying to sit up but his body seems to hurt everywhere. He goes to speak, then realizes how numb his jaw is. He tries to move it, but the only effect is his tongue lolling stupidly. He furrows his eyebrows and looks to the doctor for an explanation.

Again, the old man smiles kindly. "A new addition to your fangs. There's an extra row of canines now to make bites more fatal and effective."

His heart falters.

To his credit, the doctor has the humanity to look a bit remorseful. "I'm sorry, 748, but I couldn't simply throw all your potential away. I worked too hard to make you incredible, unstoppable. I promised you only one thing, and that was your memories. I've kept my promise, as I always do."

Harry's breaths are ragged as he narrows his eyes, wishing he had enough strength to leap off the table and keep his own promise.

I promise you will die by my hands.

The doctor averts his gaze. "Don't fret. All your new modifications will quickly feel normal. You'll learn to tune your hearing in and out, your speed and strength will be controlled. It'll be like nothing changed. Except you'll be a thousand times more capable of impossible things. You'll be invincible, my boy. Quite literally.

"I've also helped the healing process to be faster, but of course that requires frequent feeding. I know you are not the animal I need you to be, but thankfully this time around, I have means of making you that animal. Your big heart is endearing, but it is no longer needed in this world." The doctor rolls his eyes at himself. "Talking like this is so difficult, but I don't want to put you under any unnecessary distress. We can chat more when you're able."

The doctor toys around with the wires on Harry, checks the liquid shooting through the IV. He assures everything is as it should be, then he goes to a cabinet. He does his best to be as silent as possible, but Harry still flinches when the cabinet door squeaks open. He flinches again at the sound of metal clinking together.

Chains; shackles.

For him.

"I do apologize, my boy, but all precautions must be taken. Even I am unsure of my capabilities in taming you once you've been injected."

Harry gives him a wide-eyes look, trying to scoot away. He has nowhere to go. He's too weak to fight.

"Don't worry," the doctor says very strangely with his mouth seeming still. "It will make everything easier for you."

Harry shakes his head, tries to plead with his eyes since he cannot speak.

The doctor manages an empathetic look, but Harry is tired of being manipulated in such a way. He knows the pity is fake. "Now, calm down. It won't hurt. None of it will. You won't feel anything, which is exactly the point."

Is this part of Micah's ploy to gain power? Is turning Harry into a monster his way of scaring people into obedience? Surely this is all a giant plot he and the doctor have conjured together, considering how the reunion went with Micah upset he'd miss it. The two of them are conspiring to take over more quickly.

But take over what?

The state? The nation?

The world?

Is any of that truly plausible?

Harry doesn't know, but he does know that he simply can't have this injection. Feeling is what makes him who he is. Compassion and sincerity and fear and protectiveness. Emotions are all he has left, the only thing that has kept him from being the monster the doctor so desperately wants him to be.

He can't lose that huge piece of him.

The doctor cuffs the shackles around Harry's ankles, then his wrists as he locks him down to the table firmly. He doublechecks, then doublechecks again that the bindings are secure. He doesn't look at Harry as he grabs a syringe and fills it with a clear liquid.

Harry can't lose himself.

Yet as the doctor lowers the needle to Harry's forearm, he realizes he has no choice.