Disclaimer: I don't own anything, although I wish I did. Everything here belongs to core design and eidos interactive.
A Heissturm Born, A Trent Made
Kurtis and Konstantin fought constantly and today had been no different. Today's argument had been sparked by yet another hard training session. This time, however, Konstantin had given his son an injury.
Standing in his room, Kurtis wound bandages around his injured arm. It wasn't broken but his father had twisted it pretty good and some blood stained through. "It's for your own good, son," he mocked under his breath, "You'll grow stronger this way, son."
"Please don't mock your father." He turned and saw his mother standing behind him, "He's just trying to prepare you for anything."
"Well, he doesn't have to do it so hard." He lay down on his bed, cradling his injured arm over his stomach.
"Aren't you going to change out of your clothes?"
"Nope." Fear shot through her eyes. He sighed. He knew she was worried that he would leave, "I'm just too mad to. Plus, with this arm, I can't really do much."
She shrank a bit and looked down. Guilt wrenched Kurtis' heart. He shouldn't be taking this out on her. He got up and pulled Marie into a hug, "Sorry, mom. I just need to blow off a little steam. I'm not mad at you for this."
She hugged him back, "I know, dear. I know."
They stayed like that for a while. Then, Marie broke the hug off, "Go to bed, dear. You need to rest."
He nodded with a slight smile and returned to bed.
She walked up the stairs. She hated this. She knew the life of a Lux Veritatis worrier wasn't easy but she loved her son and didn't like to see him get hurt. She entered her bedroom to find her husband crawling under the covers. He didn't look at her and had a hard face on. He probably used his powers to find out her thoughts.
Well, just because he knew what she would say, doesn't mean he wasn't going to hear it from her mouth. She slipped under the sheets, "Konstantin you have to stop this."
"He needs to learn how to deal with pain," Konstantin replied, "If he doesn't, he'll never survive in the world."
"You took it too far today! You could've broken his arm!"
He turned his back to her.
"What if he decides he's had enough?"
"He won't do anything." She could hear a small spark of doubt in his voice.
She growled, "Mark my words, Konstantin Heissturm, you're going to drive your son away!"
(Kurtis POV) Later . . .
Kurtis had heard their fighting from his room. The vents were a great way to spy. He sighed. As mad as he was, he didn't want to cause a fight. He looked at the clock beside his bed; 12:30.
Well, he thought, it's now or never. He pushed himself up with his good arm and pulled a duffel bag out from under the bed. He opened it and began to pack. He knew he was proving his mother's fears true by leaving but he couldn't take it anymore. It wasn't just the fighting with his father, it was his whole life! He didn't want any part of the Shadow Wars. Innocent people always seemed to get hurt because of it. He didn't want to be a part of that.
He pulled open the top drawer of his end table. At one glance, it would appear to be empty but Kurtis knew otherwise. He reached back and pressed down on the wood. It sprang up against his arm and revealed a secret compartment. Inside were rocks, stones, trinkets, anything Kurtis managed to collect during his childhood.
However, there was something else too; a black leather wallet. Inside were a few fake ids that Kurtis managed to acquire without his father's knowledge; health card, social security, and a birth certificate. There was also about 300 dollars. He replaced the wallet with the one in his pocket.
Suddenly, he heard a sigh. He turned and saw his mother. She looked at him sadly, "I told him you would leave." She looked down, "That man and his stubborn nature."
"I just don't want to cause any bloodshed," said Kurtis trying to make her believe he wasn't leave because of his father, "I don't want any part in the Shadow Wars."
She nodded but it didn't look like she believed him. She turned, "I'll get some food for you." She left for the kitchen.
Kurtis watched her go with a heavy heart. He wanted to leave at night because he didn't want to see his mother cry. He knew she would but he didn't think he would be able to go through it without himself crying.
He sighed heavily, I guess there's nothing that can be done about it now . . .
He finished packing and closed the bag. Then he left the room without so much as a passing glance. He found his mother in the kitchen putting some canned food in a plastic bag. He put his duffel bag on the table and she proceeded to put the food in.
He watched her. Her eyes were red and tear streaks were going down her face. Her breath was shaking but she was trying very hard to cover it. He journeyed around the table and stopped her. He pulled her into a hug and she started crying into his shirt. He was taller than her, a trait inherited from his father, so it was easy for him to keep her head on his chest and place his head on hers.
"I'll be okay, mom," he said trying to calm her.
She sighed and stopped her crying, "I know, Kurtis. You're almost nineteen and you can control your powers. But, it's just so hard to let my baby go."
He smiled a little at that, "I'm not much of a baby now."
That got a laugh from her, "I know." She looked up at him, "It's so strange. One day, you're four years old and crying into my shirt because of a nightmare-"
"And the next, I'm nineteen and going off on my own?"
She smiled and nodded. "Oh!" She turned and walked to the kitchen drawer. She opened it and took out a wad of bills. She handed it to him, "Here. Your father and I have been saving it for a while. It's only 1000 dollars but-"
"It's fine mom. It will get me by until I get a job."
She nodded with a slight smile and continued putting the food in Kurtis' bag, "I called you a taxi. It should be here any minute."
"Thanks . . . Promise me you won't blame yourself for my leaving."
She looked at him.
She smiled, "Are you looking into my mind, Kurtis?"
He smiled too, "I don't need telepathy to see what's on my mother's mind."
She sighed, "I promise Kurtis. No matter what, I won't blame myself."
Lights flashed across the kitchen as a car pulled into the driveway. Marie zipped up Kurtis' bag and they went to the door. Kurtis pulled on a fall jacket and boots then slung the bag over his shoulder. They went outside onto the porch.
Kurtis turned, "I'll be okay."
"I know you will. You're strong. But, promise me you'll be safe anyway."
He smiled and kissed her forehead, "I promise mom. I love you."
"I love you too."
They looked at each other for a moment, having a silent conversation. Finally, Kurtis yielded, "Tell my father I love him."
A small breath of relief left Marie, "I will. Good bye Kurtis."
"Good bye mom." He turned and walked to the waiting taxi. With a final wave, he climbed in.
The driver was an elderly man with a kind smile, "Where to, son?"
"The storage houses outside of town."
He nodded and pulled out of the lane way. Kurtis watched his home street disappear. He was leaving everything behind and he didn't plan on looking back.
She watched the taxi go then walked back into the house. She sighed as she walked up the stairs to her husband and fought back tears. She knew Kurtis wouldn't have wanted to her to cry over him.
She entered the room and saw Konstantin was still asleep. She crawled into the bed beside him and wondered how she would ever be able to tell him his son had left. She put her face into her pillow to soak up the tears that refused to disappear.
He'll be alright, she thought, He'll be alright.
"I hope so," Konstantin said in a quiet, guilt-ridden voice.
Kurtis paid the driver and walked up to a booth beside the gate. A man saw him and opened the gate. Apparently, he wasn't much for talking. Shrugging, Kurtis walked into the complex. He didn't stop walking until he found a garage labeled; A31.
He took out a key with the same number and unlocked it. The door went up with loud banging and rattling. Inside was Kurtis' secret spot; sort of like a tree house for a four year old; an area that he retreated to when he was upset or angry.
Four motorcycles were parked inside with only tree covered in tarps; boxes filled with bike parts lay here and there; a peg board covered with tools spanned part of the back wall; a desk covered with papers sat beside the pegboard; a cupboard filled with paint cans was in a corner; a sink covered in grease dripped next to the cupboard; and a cot spanned the left wall.
Kurtis breathed in the smell of grease and oil, "Home sweet home."
He journeyed to the back desk and opened a drawer. Inside lay a small pack of 9mm high impact ammunition and a key. He strapped the pack to his belt and used the key to unlock another drawer. He looked upon the contents; a few old parts and a prototype pistol. He took the pistol out and held it in his hands. A project he had been working on; the Boron X. Although he didn't like killing, he, like most men, couldn't resist the call of a firearm.
He put the pistol in his belt and looked around. He knew he would never be back. He wondered, What should I do with the place?
The answer came to him almost immediately. He smiled and grabbed a blank piece of paper.
Later . . .
Kurtis' black Harley held a good sound as it sped through the garage lane ways. He stopped it by the booth.
"What do you want?" asked the man inside.
Kurtis handed him a letter with the name Konstantin Heissturm on it, "Could you mail this for me?"
"Sure." He took it.
"Thanks." He moved off.
The wind bit at his face and clouds let loose a few drops of rain. Kurtis didn't stop until he had reached a mile out of town. He was on a hill and could see all the lights of his old home. As he looked on, he wondered how his mother was faring. The rain was pelting down now and Kurtis had a strong feeling that the sky was mimicking Marie's mood.
He sighed and turned his bike to face away form his parents' home. He revved the engine and swiftly journeyed through the rain and wind. The lights of cars shone in his face as he rode. It was done now and there was no turning back. No longer was he the Lux Veritatis Knight his father was training.
No. Kurtis Heissturm was gone . . . and being left behind in Kurtis Trent's dust.