Powerless

[Kira]

1. Twenty-three

A loud buzzing noise fills the once quiet dark room. In the dark shadows, a hand creeps out from beneath a body of blankets. It gropes in the darkness, looking for the cause of this loud buzzing noise. The hand bangs on the bedside table twice before finding this noise making tyrant.

Once the hand has finally completed its mission in putting an end to this tyrant of ending sleep. The hand limps to the corner of the bed in victory. A loud sigh comes somewhere deep within this mountain of blankets. It begins to stir, coming to life. The once limp hand reaches up, pulling the blanket down, revealing its true face. A young man whom face is soft and smooth. He could pass between the ages of eighteen and no older than twenty-one. He turns his head to look at the alarm clock, his tyrant. It reads six in the morning. He looks up at a calendar, The date is circled in red on the 23rd of November, its reads: My birthday. He sighs again and lays back down. He begins to stretch his body while still laying on his bed. He finally sits up on his bed. Cracking his neck, his fingers, then finally stands up, he rotates his shoulders, stretching his back. He sits back down again, and begins to massage his right leg.

He feels the aching and burning in his right leg begin to subside. His constant reminder, when he was nineteen, he was strong, ready. He planned and trained for that day, since literally the day he was born. This young man, born, David Robert Bruce Jonathan Republic Lazarus. He still laughs at his ridiculously long name. While growing up, when his friends learn and read about the American Civil War, they called him, Johnny Rep. A play on Johnny Reb. The nickname of the Confederate Army. They had so many names to play with. David or Robert Bruce “Banner” after The Incredible Hulk TV series, It was worse once that movie, Braveheart came out, then it was Robert the Bruce. But none stung more than “powerless”. A name that he would forever be cursed with.

For David was not born into a normal world, we are all use to. His world must remain in the shadow. He is the heir to a throne of an ancient race. There are twelve houses, each house contains Twelve thousands members, there are one hundred forty-four thousand total members to this elite group, all spread throughout the world. Throughout human history this race has inspired and molded stories of mythology. Such as the gods, titans, demigods, vampires, werewolves, and even the modern comic books.

He reaches for the drawer and grabs a fresh pair of underclothes, then reaches for a pair of pants on the floor. He shuffles himself to the bath, he turns on the shower, putting it all the way to the cold side. Where he lived, it didn’t really rain much, but he’s been lucky, it seems to rain the most in November. He uses the rain as his safe haven. Even as a child he enjoyed to simply walk or just stand in the rain. Which lead his family to believe that this would soon be the source of his potential capability. For a strange reason Dave’s body acted as a human radiator. His whole body, constantly burned and ached, causing him many restless nights. His lips feel like a mixture of sand and salt, forever having an unquenchable thirst. He could consume a three litter bottle of water and still have an urge to drink some more. He would purposely shower slow, letting the water cool and moisturize his body. Any normal person would be going into shock by now, but to him its perfect. It's cooling and refreshing, even his forever tormented leg relaxes, as if it have opened up a secret mouth and began to drink from it. He almost groans when he knows he can no longer stay in the shower. He takes one last moment of bliss, enjoying every second of it. Then shuts it off. He dries himself off and put on his dries clothes. He runs back to his room, turning on the television. Just in time, as he always plans. The only time he watched the news, was to watch out for the weather, waiting to hear about any chance of rain.

His phone vibrates, a wide cocky grin spreads across his face. He knows very well who that is. He reaches for the phone and sees the new text message, it reads: Happy Birthday, love baby love.

Dave texts back, Thank you, Jenny. I love you. Plans?

Dave turns back to the news just in time, as they give the forecast, he makes a face, morning mist, clear afternoon, slight chance in late evening. “I thought I could have whatever I wanted, on my birthday.” Dave tells himself. He has always spoke to himself, he never had many friends, in fact he could only count up to three people if even that. The closes and most open he’s ever been with was his best friend Jennifer. His phone vibrates again.

What’s the weather going to be like, tonight?, Jenny's text read.

Dave sighs, and texts back, Unfortunately clear. He closes his phone and tosses it on his bed, and runs downstairs. He can already smell the aroma of pancakes, bacon, eggs with chorizo, weenies, tortillas, toasts, Spanish rices, refried beans and hash browns. His favorite ultimate birthday breakfast.

His father is sitting at the table, drinking coffee, nibbling on Mexican bread, as a pre-breakfast snack. His father looks up from the paper, “Hey isn’t today a special day, hmm…let me see, “ he pauses if as thinking, Dave smiles and rolls his eyes, “Oh right, its someone birthday!? Oh yeah, yours! Happy Birthday, boy. Feel old?”

'Um, not particularly. I feel quite the same actually.” He laughs, as his father chuckles and continues to read his paper.

Dave’s mom turns around, “Happy birthday, mijo!” As she reaches out to give him a hug. She returns back to the almost ready breakfast. Dave reaches into the refrigerator and nabs his almond chocolate milk, setting it on the kitchen counter as he goes to the cupboard, reaching for his glass cup, that he bought at Target for a dollar thirty-nine. He takes an automatic whiff of his cup, he never smells anything. It’s something he has done since he was a child. Then he goes and automatically rinses out the cup. Takes a paper towel and dries the lip of the cup. Then finally pours his almond chocolate milk. Everything to him is so automatic, an everyday routine.

His father gets up the table, “Foods ready!” he grabs three plates. Hands one to his mother first, then Dave. Dave patiently stood by until it was his turn to nab his breakfast. He nabbed three good sizes pancakes, three bacon strips, a spoon full of chorizo, two weenies strips, a floor tortilla, rice, beans and hash browns. They walked over to their dinning room table, bow their heads, chat a quiet prayer to themselves and then gently clap their hands three times.

“So, boy. What’s the plan?”

Dave chews and swallows his eggs, taking a sip of his almond chocolate milk, then wiped his mouth, “Well, I was wondering…if…” Dave trailed off, knowing he can’t ask his father for what he really wants.

His father speaks while still chewing his food, “Yes, yes. It’s your birthday. They can come. I already sent them an invite for later this evening.”

Dave nods his head, “Thanks, father.”

Dave’s mother speaks up, “And Jenny?”

“I’m sure she’ll be here, but we are making plans for even later.” Dave, shuts his eyes and quickly rips a piece of his tortilla off, scooping up some eggs, beans and rice, and stuff it into his mouth.

Dave’s mother caught it, “Plans for later, huh?”

Dave waits until he finished chewing his food before speaking again, also to buy himself some time “Its been a while, since I’ve been out, and my leg-” Dave, stops and catches himself mid sentence, both his parents, stop and make a face towards each other, Dave clears his throat “I mean, I’m feeling better, the weather is said to be nice.”

“Well, we’ll have to ask Chester-” Dave’s mother is cut off.

“Chester, isn’t the weather!” Dave cuts in.

“No, but he is good at what he does.” Dave’s father adds calmly.

“Great a spy.” Dave slumps in his chair.

“He’s not going to spy,” Dave’s father stops to sigh, “Look, you understand your circumstance, you’re a special case.”

“Because, I can’t defend myself as the rest of you can? Yes I may be a Lazarus, but what about the other eleven houses, they don’t all possess the same abilities as we do. I am strong enough to handle myself.”

“You’re strong enough to handle the strongest human, but not an average member of the twelve houses. Need I remind you of what Samson and Masters almost did to you! And are you strong enough to protect Jennifer at the same time?” His father added a low blow, to make his point across.

“Jenny is strong, plus she can-”

“You think she’s the only one? Plus that’s all she can do, others can do that and more, look at me.”

“Yes, ‘cause you’re, King Lazarus, ruler of the twelve houses. While your oldest son, is consider the runt of all of the houses, I wish I was born in the House of Campbell, not only would I have been accepted, I would have been praised!” David stopped, shutting his eyes, shaking his head, at himself, knowing that would be costly.

Everyone just sat quietly, continuing to eat their breakfast in silence. David hated silence more than anything, for starters his mind constantly raced. Always thinking of something new. Dave was always a great story teller, he had millions of stories to tell, he even turned his own life into his own personal tall tale, bragging or exaggerating the truth in his own mind and to others who would listen, he was the type of guy, if he went out fishing, his "almost caught the biggest fish" story would increase two sizes each time it was told. Dave wasn't a lair, he knew people loved stories, so he gave them just that, a story. Its what he was best at. Every time he spoke, he always had another adventure to tell of his valor. If Dave wasn’t born into this society, his first true career path might have been in literature. Dave himself loved a good story. He had made it a habit of meeting new and interesting people. Listening to their life stories. He was fascinated by people, he hardly ever spoke, just sat and listen, the only time Dave ever spoke was to ask another question. This was just how Dave was.

Finally Dave tried to break the ice, “Father…” His father just continued to eat his food.

King Lazarus, sighs. “I’m sorry, you know I’m just a little overprotective of you. You’re my boy. If anything happens to you, you know I’ll kill them. Its just hard getting use to the fact that you’re no longer a child. You are a man now. Especially now that you’re twenty-three. A lot of people in our community have made the biggest decision of their life at that age.”

“I know, dad. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking actually.”

His mother looks up puzzled, usually She was the first one to know of any plans, “Oh? Such as?”

Dave finishes swallowing his food, taking a sip, wipe his mouth with a napkin, then clears his throat. “ Well one of two things, actually. One is, well seeing how I’m not fit to claim the throne-”

“You’re a Lazarus. It’s your birthright!” his father cut him off.

“I know, dad, but serious. I’m not made for this world. I belong to them, the normal people. Samson has more of a right than I do, to lead.”

The House of Samson, was created when twins were born. Uniquely they were born right at the same time, They came out attached to each other, holding each other. Lazarus law states, that in such a case, if there was a unique situation were there would be two rulers. They would fight to the death. The twin child named Samson, did not wish to kill his brother, so he left the House of Lazarus, and thus the House of Samson was created. The House of Samson and House of Lazarus have always been close, the only two Houses that was officially opened to intermarriage. Whereas, it was discourage for the other Houses to have intermarriages. Although the House of Duncan and House of Campbell were known to. It was this very reason, That the two men, Bruce Campbell and Masters Duncan, his mentors and friends were not very welcomed.

His father pieced the puzzled, “So your second option is to step down from your birthright and hand it over to Samson?”

Dave slowly nods his head.

“It has been a long while since the House of Samson ruled.”

Once, a Lazarus give birth to an only daughter, and the heir of Samson had a son, So they married and Broderick Samson ruled, until the situation was reversed.

“You could always, marry Samson.” His mother noted.

“I know you love her, mom. Especially dad. We talk, but Audrey and I are not the best of friends, if anything she finds me disgusting, besides, I’m with Jenny. Remember?”

King Lazarus sighs, chewing his food as he talks, “ I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that, I’ve let you have your fun long enough. Maybe to long. She is a Duncan. Law states that is forbidden.”