The knife lingered at Vernon's throat for a moment longer than required and its sharpness was a chilling touch caressing his heartbeat.
I moved closer, my breath lightly touching the alabaster of his ear, my voice a soft thread of caution covered with velvet.
"Don't activate your powers in this place."
Withdrawing the dagger at a slow pace, I permitted the steel to caress his flesh with a whisper before it retracted into my garment.
Vernon's pupils contracted, and his face momentarily broke into a frown that resembled the quick flashes of lightning heralding a storm.
The spot where I had touched him turned red, and he rubbed it.
"Then what was the point of your telling me that shit?"
The tone of the question seemed to reflect that he was especially annoyed with me and my voice even more than with the matter itself.
I treated myself to a slight but self-assured smile and leaned back against the coldness of the concrete wall, folding my arms.
The overhead dim bulb drew long shadows over the cell and turned our faces into light and secrecy masks.
"These abilities are not magical, dear brother,"
I said enjoying the way he focused attentive and curious at the old name.
"They are subject to the laws of science—the merciless, accurate science."
Vernon could not help but smile, and his curiosity won over his anger. He turned his head, pausing for more.
I unleaned from the wall and started to move about the room, slowly and purposely, to mimic how a hunter stalks its preys.
"Every single thing in this universe—be it you, me, or the atmospheric air—is made up of atoms. Suppose you teleport, then your creature does not disappear through a mist of smoke. It breaks down molecularly. Each atom and even each quark gets separated into a stream of particles flung toward the location you imagine—moving at speeds almost equal to that of light, so that the whole process feels instant."
He watched with a mixture of unwilling curiosity and interest.
"So you mean if I do it here…"
"Yes," I said as I moved a bit closer until I could feel the warmth of his body which was just healed and also see the slight shaking of his blood vessels that were still filled with adrenaline.
"The moment you start the jump, the Asylum's walls would notice the atomic cascade. The lasers that make up the ultra-thin grids—layers that are so fine that they are almost unnoticeable—will get activated. They will cut through every particle that is in the air. You will not even have the time to scream. You will just… vanish."
Vernon let out an exhale and a short laugh that was full of disbelief came out of him.
"And how come the cops know the science of my teleportation so precisely?"
I stretched my hand out and my fingers got buried in his hair which was as white as snow—still as disobedient as the day we were separated.
I messed it up very hard, but in a loving way, just like I used to when we were kids and played all day without having to worry about anything.
"You are the same as you were, aren't you?" I said very quietly as if the words were meant for him only. "Still keeping your ears open as if every single word is a lifeline."
His glance went to mine for a moment and then he defied me with his eyes but there was something behind the defiance that was not easily readable.
I let go of him and moved to the narrow cot that was fastened to the wall.
I reached under the very thin mattress and pulled out a small remote—a piece of contraband that was given to me by a guard whose debts I had quietly settled.
When I pressed my thumb down, the old television set that was securely mounted in the corner and was very high up produced the crackling sound of being turned on. Only one channel was still unblocked, of course. Government channel.
The screen was flooded with loud and exaggerated cheers. The well-known words in thick red letters were appearing one after the other on the banner:
KINARD KUROGANE, OWNER OF MULTIPLE GLOBAL INDUSTRIES, HAS BEEN SWORN IN AS PRESIDENT OF JAPAN. FORMER PRESIDENT VOLUNTARILY RELINQUISHES ALL AUTHORITY IN HISTORIC TRANSFER OF POWER.
Vernon's face became rigid at the jaw.
"What!?"
The anchor's voice was sweetened, as if made to convey respect, while the old film showed the Father at the presidential balcony, the crowd below shouting his name as if it were a prayer and he was the one to be prayed to.
Yura was speaking from her position where she had her back against the far wall, both arms crossed and her eyes were penetratingly sharp like a glass that is broken.
"The transmission is already five hours old. The arrest orders were issued right after that—his signature was on them."
Yuna spread her huge black wings that looked like they were made of stone so that they only blotted the light more in the cell, both her beauty and her downfall being both sublime and horrible.
"We let ourselves be captured," she said softly, her voice like a far-off storm,"because we had to find out how his endgame was going to be."
Vernon fell down on the bed's edge, and the springs cried out as if they were in pain from his weight. He ran a hand down his face, and his shoulders reflected the battle of exhaustion and fury going on inside him.
"So, I am now left with the company of the fools. Just great!"
I approached him and offered my hand, palm up—an offer, a challenge, a promise. "You are not stuck."
He first looked at my hand, then at my face, and the corner of his mouth raised in that daring half-smile I had missed more than I would ever confess.
"Never doubted that your brain was working, Akira," he said, holding my forearm tightly. I pulled him up to stand beside me in one quick motion, our grips locked—fighter to fighter, brother to brother.
The second he was standing, I pulled him towards me. Our foreheads touched but it was a gentle collision, a deliberate one and the contact provided both of us with grounding during the chaos.
I kept his gaze, which was a few inches away from mine, and the atmosphere between us was filled with the tension of old rivalries and the warmth of older loyalties.
"But the instant we are out of this imprisonment," he cautioned, his voice quiet but menacing, "we will part ways. Same aim, different routes. Just like always."
I waited, letting the silence become thick and charged with tension, then answered with a slow grin resembling that of a predator.
"Let us check it out."
The moment I spoke, my sentence was floating between us as if challenging, as if promising, as the very first glimmer of a flame that neither of us had ever completely put out.