Chapter 1
2013 05 -19 Washington, Presidential Private Estate
At the unripened age of five, Lucian Von Liverpool lost everything. A plane crash in a sky ironclad with an immeasurable rainstorm in the dead of spring deprived him of his parents and left him to a world that would never willingly take consideration to his existence. Orphanages blurred together within his memory, each one colder than the last, until Lucian’s expectation of warmth from others hindered to a full stop. However, what he lacked in comfort, he made up for in perception– he noticed everything. Patterns, movements, lies told with a smile. The world spoke in details most ignored, and Lucian listened.
By the age of 13, he and his restless and eccentric best friend, Nicholas, were on their way back to the orphanage they were currently living in after Lucian had followed Nicholas who tried to sneak out, in the attempt to convince him otherwise, he ended up being convinced himself. In the distance they'd heard the sounds of aristocratic laughter and limousine doors being opened and shut by hired valets.
Nicholas’ expression shifted from that of curiosity to one of mischief. That is how they ended up slipping into the annual Presidential Gala, dressed in “borrowed” tuxedos, pretending they belonged among chandeliers and champagne. Nicholas wanted to see how the other half lived; Lucian just liked to watch people dissimulating their perfection.
As they walked among those blessed with cavern deep pockets, the sky high ceilings, award winning orchestra, and patrons ironclad with custom made Peruvian silks and diamond pieces that looked to be straight out of a petty thief’s wettest dreams, they finally experienced the awe of riches, or at least Nicholas did. Lucian on the other hand, had a dreadful feeling that he could only depict as grim, something felt off. They should have been caught by now, either dragged out for trespassing or at least thrown out on their rear ends. However…
He wasn't expecting the gunmen.
The first shot shattered a spotlight, and chaos erupted. In the blur of panic, Lucian’s instincts took over. He looked to his right to see Nicholas who was helping to safely get women and children out, then proceeded to look to his left. He spotted a group of masked men cutting through the large crowd of people who were running around and fleeing, as if to be a colony of bees whose hive had just been disturbed, cutting toward a doorway–and a terrified girl in a periwinkle gown being dragged away from it. In his mind he hesitated, trying to be rational. He wanted to run away and get himself and Nicholas out. Without thinking, he moved toward the girl. It was messier than the movies: shouting, confusion, blood. But he still went on.
The crystal chandeliers’ beauty seemed almost mocking as it hung overhead and the string orchestra’s melody shattered into discord. Silk gowns swirled and tore as women fled, champagne flutes toppled, their golden contents splashing across the marble floor. In the center of the grandiose room Lucian stood there, five armed men in masks flanking him in all directions while he stepped before the girl to shield her. He grabs a meat cutting knife that had earlier fallen to the ground and gets into a defensive position. Readying for a fight as it was five on one.
Lucian was able to hear the proverbial trumpets sounding in his ears as the situation came to rising climax. He stood still. Allowing the girl to run off to safety. He stood as a lone fighter–calm, centered, focused to the point he looked almost bored–his eyes narrowed. Divulging a singular breath of neuroticism with a soft trembling exhale. Then everything snapped into motion. The five assailants moved as a pack, fanning out across the polished marble floor. Their tuxedo hidden knives, batons, and the kind of intent that didn't belong at a presidential gala materialized.
The first masked assailant to have approached Lucian lunged first. Lucian sidestepped, caught the assailant’s wrist, and redirected the momentum cleanly so that the attacker crashed shoulder-first into a dessert tower. Abandoned champagne glasses fell to the floor and shattered. Guests screamed and lined against the walls, crouched, as the assailants had barricaded the doors from the outside. Assailant two came in high with a baton. The fighter ducked a punch that Lucian threw, and swept his legs from under him. Lucian landed on the floor on his back.
Lucian reacted instantly with a kip up motion. Regaining his footing. He dodged the attackers’ reciprocal swing and feint right. Sweeping the attackers legs out from under him, and using the falling body as a springboard to vault backward over the third attacker, landing behind him and snatching the firearm from his hands. In turn bashing him in the back of the head with a swinging motion that dropped him unconscious instantly.
Three down. Two to go.
The fourth assailant tried to flank Lucian, grabbing a steel serving tray as an improvised shield. Lucian dropped the firearm and struck the tray with a palm heel so strong it rang like a gong, sending the masked man stumbling, and he followed up with a side-kick to the ribs that had him folded.
Finally, Lucian was down to his last foe. And this one hesitated–just a heartbeat–but it was enough.
Lucian closed the distance, caught the man’s lapels, and slammed him onto the gala’s red carpet with a throw that looked almost ceremonial.
It was clear that larger size and bigger muscle didn’t always mean you had the upper hand.
***
Aftermath…
Security finally broke through the barricaded doors and swarmed in, too late to do anything much but stare. The entire estate seemed to have gone silent for a moment and then came the whispers. Guests peeked from behind overturned tables and chairs. Some looked baffled, others still shaken, while others had quite the conflicted expression. Unsure whether they should clap or watch as a child stands among unconscious fallen bodies.
Lucian looked around, watching as people stared at him with brows furrowed in confusion, fear, and somewhat astonishment. Acutely aware of his surroundings he spent a brief moment stuck in his own head, standing alone in his idle-minded state, before Nicholas ran up to him to snap him out of his trance. “Luci!” He exclaimed, “Are you okay? We gotta go, before we get caught!” Lucian finally snaps out of his daze, blinking rapidly to bring himself back to reality. “Y-Yeah, sorry, I zoned out.” They both began to run out of the ballroom and out of the backdoor of the building. Running back into the slums of Verona City, they planned to ditch the tuxedos that they were wearing in a metal trash bin that they’d found in an alleyway before they went into the gala, and so they threw in some old stranded newspaper and lit a match against a brick wall, lighting the newspaper ablaze. With a makeshift campfire now blazing inside of it they threw the tuxedos into the flames to burn the evidence of their escapade, threw on the lid so the light from the fire would not give away their position, and put back on their previously worn clothes that sat on the ground just behind the bin. Continuing down the alleyway, they arrived at a dead end. They hid in the darkest corner of the alleyway, and from behind a dumpster, they glanced at the agents that ran past the entrance of the alleyway, searching for the 2 missing boys.
After confirming that the agents were out of range, they ran out of the alleyway and hitched a ride on a bus back to St. Germains. Lucian sat against the window and Nicholas sat adjacent to him with his head against Lucian's shoulder as he had fallen asleep. With the silver moon overhead lighting the near pitch black sky, They soon arrived at the St. Germain's entrance, both exhausted. Nicholas, now awake, turned towards Lucian, who seemed completely distraught, “That was a close one, wasn’t it?” Lucian looked back at Nicholas after managing to finally catch his breath. “We… are never… doing that again.” Nicolas gave a light chuckle; though he was also in shock of the events that transpired during the Gala, he was somewhat amused at the same time, as if he deeply craved adventure.
Both boys quietly snuck back into their shared room. Nicholas immediately slumped into his bed, letting out a sigh of relief. He began to close his eyes for a brief moment, gathering his thoughts. He proceeded to feel a soft breeze against his face and opened his eyes, realizing that Lucian had snuck out the window and onto the roof. Nicholas smiled, he knew Lucian always went up there when he needed to think.
The moonlight pooled across the orphanage like spilled silver, softening the rusted appearance of the cracked tar and rusted vents. The night was mostly quiet, with nothing but the occasional sounds of crickets chirping, the rustle of leaves shaking in the smooth breeze, and owls flying through the canopy in search of a midnight snack. No cars, no voices, just nature settling. Lucian sat near the edge, knees pulled tight to his chest, chin resting on them. His silky midnight black hair fell forward, hiding most of his face, but the tension in his shoulders said enough. He looked like a kid trying to make himself small in a world that never ceased in feeling too big.
A soft thump came from behind him.
Nicholas hauled himself through the window and up over the ledge, breathless but grinning like he'd just conquered a mountain instead of a drainpipe. “You always pick the highest places,” he said as he dusted off his hands and crossed his arms as he sat next to Lucian.
Lucian didn't answer, but he didn't flinch when Nicholas sat down beside him, Nicholas’s legs stretched out, palms braced behind him to lean back and look at the sky.
For a moment; neither spoke.
The wind tugged at their shirts. Somewhere below, a door slammed. A dog barked in the distance. The world kept moving, but up here on the roof, it felt like it paused just for them. Nicholas nudged Lucian's shoulder lightly. “You know, if you're gonna run away to the roof, you could at least leave a note. Something dramatic. ‘Gone to brood. Back never.’”
Lucian huffed a tiny laugh–barely audible, but real.
Nicholas smiled at the sound, then let the silence settle again, this time warmer. “Whatever the reason you're up here is,” he said softly, "don't blame yourself.”
Lucian finally lifted his head, eyes reflecting the moon like two small mirrors. He didn't say anything, but he didn't need to. Nicholas understood him more than anyone.
Two boys. One rooftop. One friendship that made the night feel a little less cold.
Lucian sat there silent for a moment. “They’re going to come for us, Nick. The agents. We snuck into the annual presidential gala.” he said, clearly ridiculing himself more than he should. “Not to mention I basically announced our presence to everyone.”
Nicholas looked at him with a small smirk playing on his lips. “Well to be fair you're the one who got in a five on one fight and won,” Lucian glanced at him with a deadpan expression. Nicholas putting his hands up in a placating gesture, “Okay, okay. I get it. Not helpful,” Lucian fell silent once more, as if contemplating. He diverted his gaze onto Nicholas, staring intensely. Finally speaking, he mutters, “Aren’t you tired of living like this?” Nicholas hesitated, taking Lucian’s question to mind. He then let out a slight chuckle, “Who knows, maybe fate has something in store for us.” Lucian rolled his eyes, but then looked up at the stars, considering the implied truth in Nicholas’ words. “Perhaps you’re right.” Lucian began to pull himself up, “I hope you’re right.” He extended out a hand towards Nicholas, helping him up. “We should head back inside before one of the caretakers realizes that we’re gone.” Nicholas grabs his hand and stands up. And they both climb back through the window that leads into their shared room and climb into bed, falling asleep for the night.
