Sometimes it’s hard to run from yourself.
Hi, nice to meet you! I’m immortal, and you are?
Year 1909: Czech Republic:
My family – all 3 of us, were living in this old, abandoned house perched upon a dreary hillside in Hodonin, on the border of the Czech Republic and Slovakia.
There wasn’t any notable civilization – besides us, of course – for miles upon miles. However, my mother was always seeming to find these nice men who would stay with us from time to time. They all seemed to say the same thing to me whenever they saw me – “Can’t wait to call you son, little man.” However, that never ended up being the case. Usually, mother would chase them out of the house with the old Allen & Thurber Single-Shot perched precariously on the mantle. However, this guy Tom, whom my mother had met a little over a year ago, had been with staying with us for a while. I’ve never had had a father, but Tom was the closest thing to it. He My older brother, Zack, always seemed to have some unsettling look in his eyes that only I could see. Something didn’t sit right with him – he was more sick of this lifestyle than I was. He misbehaved regularly and seemed mad at almost everything. He was a troubled kid, and that may be why our mother paid more attention to me than to him. Within time, we got to the age where we should start our education. Our mother tried home-schooling us for a while, but when we knew more than her, it became pointless. Beyond all this, life had been relatively boring – until Tom had finally convinced our mother to let us go to an actual school. Last year, we entered Rohatec High School in the middle of ninth grade. School came very easy to me, (unlike my brother, who rarely decided to show up), and my teacher gave me a special test and told me I was an ‘autodidact,’ – whatever that means.
I should probably tell you why all this is what it is. Our family, before it had become only three of us, was a lot different. Our father, Matouš, was Mossad (Israeli Intelligence, dubbed “The Institute”), and our mother, Alena, was Shabak, (Israel Security Agency). The last my mother ever saw of my father was during a Reactive counter-terrorist operation in The Ottoman Empire against the Gemidzhii Anarchists. My father decided that his duty was not worth running into a suicide mission, and elected to go every man far himself. He disobeyed orders and left his wife, my mother, alone to fight The Gemidzhii single-handedly. Alena ended up losing her left arm and a few toes, but survived. She had defended herself with the help of other agents, herself the only survivor. She had nearly bled to death until someone came around to collect tabs in the rubble of the embassy. She, without any hesitation, reported Matouš’ AWOL. He had served my entire life in Military Prison until his release a small while ago.
One dreary fall afternoon, we heard a knock at the door – a sound we haven’t heard in a very long time. Tom goes to answer it and I, sitting in the adjacent room playing with Zack, see our new father blown off his feet, launched six or so feet back by the blast of a shotgun a large man was wielding with a single hand. He then points the gun at my mom, who I instinctively jump in front of. I feel the spray hit me, yet i stand up minutes after unscathed. However, enough of the spray had missed me that it had reached my mother, leading to her demise. I then lunge at the man, whom I now realize to be my father from the old pictures I had looked at, throwing this easily 6-foot-4 250 pound man off our front porch as if he were made of cotton. He hits a tree violently and appears to be dead.
Shocked by this, I run into the forest, trying to get as far away from it all as I possibly can. I soon realize I am running far faster than humanly possible – covering many miles in mere minutes. I look back to see Zack, running the same speed as me, tackle me to the ground. For the first time, I see a look of caring and concern in his eyes. He comforts me and tells me that he has these ‘powers’ too. He goes on to say that he first realized them when he was ‘tripping around’ with some school friends and stumbled drunkenly onto train tracks and was hit, and how he woke up minutes later around a hundred feet further down the road. He then tells me that everything is going to be okay – but that we must run. “We have to get away,” he says. I agree. After some travelling, we make our way to the city of Brno, where we make friends with those that belong to various underground crime factions. For a few years, we survive as generic street thieves, using our speed and strength to our advantage. Before long, we develop a taste for this lifestyle, as well as quite a name for ourselves in the business. By our mid teens we were assisting in bank robberies and various acts of anarchy. We were becoming exactly what our parents had spent their whole lives trying to stop. There is some very bitter irony in that. At around 18 or so, I decided that we should start acting for the greater good. I convinced Zack that we should join the armed forces.
To escape yet another series of unfortunate events, we fled to Germany, away from our old friends in Brno, whom want our heads (if they can find them) due to our resignation from what we had later realized to be the Czech Mafia. Upon enlistment in 1918, we were immediately sent out. Within months, we had participated in both the Hundred Days Offensive and the Spring Offensive, (as well as many others), where we watched as 3.5 million soldiers’ bodies ceased to possess life. Not to be mistaken – we were shot too. We just, for some reason, got back up each and every time. We were enlisted for a total of 7 months, being pronounced dead 17 times between the two of us. At the end of it all, we realized that our search for adventure was to cover up our shaky, and quite terrifying past. We can never run from ourselves.