BLOOD AND BONE | rewritten

14

Kane couldn't remember the last time he felt this...normal. No euphoric high, no crushing comedown, no withdrawal.

And yet his body felt like it was weighed down at the bottom of a lake. He could practically feel the rocks on his chest, too heavy to save himself. This was half of the reason he turned to Visage in the first place. At least he had a reason to be so empty when he was on it. This was inexplicable.

Kane suspected part of the reason was his constant craving for more. Even after the hell it dragged him through, he still wanted the needles inside his skin, the white dust in his nostrils. The dark side of drugs wasn't the worrying side effects that made one wonder each time whether it had gone too far. No, the worst was after, when the drugs were physically purged from one's system. Because after that world-changing first hit, they ever really left.

It didn't help that the soldiers gave the team a day off after returning from Bereysk. Kane supposed it was their attempt at a reward for catching the suspect, but without a structured day, he had nothing to do.

When Hunt brought him in for initiation, he hinted toward perks that would be given as Kane began to gain his trust. Though Kane expected the Director was simply telling him anything he needed to hear to comply, he made good on his promise. That morning, the soldiers knocked on Kane's door to deliver him a small parcel. Upon opening it, he found it was a book. One of the works of the classic writer Efstathios. Hunt must have thought he'd enjoy a story because he exhibited no other interests outside of crime.

Frankly, Kane hadn't read many books. His brother taught him to read, but he never got much practice. When living on the streets, you tend to focus on the necessities. And you can't eat paper.

The few he used to own-found discarded in gutters and dropped into trash piles-he read ruthlessly. They didn't have anything more than their brotherhood and the clothes on their backs, so Kane tended to be very grateful for what little luxury he was allowed. He still remembered the feel of their spines, how breakable they seemed in his hands. His brother used to mock him for how closely Kane guarded them as if they were worth his weight in gold.

And now Kane was in the most opportunistic city in the world. He was the only one that made it out alive.

He sighed. His sober thoughts always seemed to drift back to death. It didn't matter now that he had a path to somewhere other than facedown in a ditch, his corpse poisoned by Visage. Despite his abilities, he never expected to be here. He never thought he'd live this long.

Kane's vision from withdrawals resurfaced. The one of his brother with a split-open body. He felt an inkling of illness rise to the base of his esophagus.

Even thinking of his name made Kane sick.

Despite only being three years Kane's senior, his brother raised him. Kane never knew what happened to their parents because his brother refused to tell him. But Kane had no memory of them anyway. Perhaps they were washed away by the brain cells he killed.

He'd always been hard on Kane, but Kane now understood it was the only way he could think to keep his little brother safe in a very unsafe place. Safe from mob violence and drug trafficking. Safe from addiction like so many other homeless urchins. The ones that didn't get snatched from the street and were never heard from again, that was.

And then...that final day. Kane didn't remember how it started. Only how drastically it changed the projection of his future. His brother never came back that night, nor any of the rest. With the commonplace sounds of random gunfire all hours of the day and several acquaintances giving Kane their accounts of his brother's body amongst the others in dumpsters to be tossed at sea, it was not difficult to piece together what occurred.

It felt wrong to be there killing time while he died to create a better life for the two of them. Kane always tried to forget his face, his rare grin. It was the other half of the reason his addiction began. But every part of his being was etched into Kane's mind no matter how much Kane damaged himself to get him out.

He would be so disappointed.

Clenching and unclenching his fists, Kane suppressed the familiar stab of pain at his memory. He needed to get busy with a chore before he did something wildly self-destructive.

Lifting the few metal weights in the corner, he absentmindedly began working his upper arms despite the weights being nothing compared to his strength. But the larger weights and bench presses were on ground floor in the training room. Kane did not want to encounter anyone else.

He never liked people in general. Their stares made his skin crawl. Their attention made him wish he didn't have a body.

Now that he thought of it, there wasn't much he did like. Pessimism ran thick through his veins.

Besides his drug habit and stealing to fuel it, Kane had no hobbies. It was a depressing realization.

The few unstable jobs he had in Touzieu always dealt with technology. Much more predictable than people. And unlike human interaction, he seemed to have a knack for managing electronic data. Particularly breaking into it when he wasn't given permission.

On days when his soul was light and full of Visage, he imagined himself hacking into the Corps' records of the date of his brother's death. If there was any recollection of him, it had to be there. But there was some scared, childish part of Kane that always made him halt.

But he let himself dream. That someday, if he managed to pull himself together he would get answers. He would find his brother's murderer and make them regret the day their carelessness left Kane alone for good.