"There are some people in our lives who give existence meaning, or offer a different perspective—people who make you feel alive just by their presence. It could be your mother, a friend, your father, a brother... the list goes on. But what if that person suddenly vanished from your life?"
"Harten, I want to ask you something," Joe said. Harten looked at him with bright, expectant eyes, waiting for the question.
"What is your real name?" Joe asked.
Harten was stunned. "How did you know?"
"From your way of speaking, your language," Joe replied. "Your old name doesn't matter; it's in the past. I just want to know why you chose this name."
"Damn you, Joe," Harten smirked. "You too? How can you talk like me? Have you seen yourself? Blonde hair, blue eyes, a half-white beard, and glasses that make you look like an anime character! Hahaha."
"Look at yourself," Joe shot back. "You look like buffalo dung! Hahaha."
"That's all your fault, you idiot! You left me in that death pit!" Harten laughed.
Silence followed the laughter. Only the rustle of the wind through the trees and the soft chirping of birds remained.
"The reason I chose this name," Harten began, "is an anime called Black Cat I used to watch when I was little, maybe six years old. I admired the hero, Train Heartnet. Because he was so cool, I created an imaginary character named 'David Heartnet' and played with him all the time. When I came here, I decided to leave the past behind, and the first name that came to mind was 'Harten'."
"Why didn't you go with 'Train'?" Joe asked.
"I don't really know. I guess I wanted to be a brother to 'David' and 'Train' in name."
"Fine, fine," Joe said. "Let's head back to the cave."
The sound of footsteps on dirt and the crunch of grass filled the air. Joe looked toward the cave and asked Harten, "What do you think of some lion-meat broth?"
He didn't finish his sentence. Inside the cave stood three figures in black suits and masks. Joe ducked instantly, grabbing Harten's hand and pulling him down.
"Shhh!" Joe hissed, pressing a finger to his lips.
"What is it?" Harten whispered.
"Quiet," Joe breathed. "There are people in the cave. Run. I'm going to take them out."
"What? You expect me to just leave you now?"
"Damn it, Harten! They're from Russia... from the Organization! Harten, these are superhumans! I'm the only one who can hold them off—and that's assuming they aren't 'Numbers'."
Suddenly, without warning, a sharp whiz cut through the air. An arrow buried itself in Joe's shoulder.
"Damn it! What was that?" Harten cried out.
"We've found you, Mr. Joe," a mysterious voice echoed. "Or should I say, my old boss?"
"Oh no... it's Number 4," Joe muttered. He turned to Harten. "Run. Now. Don't say a word!"
"But—"
"Damn it! You'll die, you brat! Run!"
Harten bolted, his mind a whirlwind of fear and confusion.
"You won't escape that easily," Number 4 called out. He aimed a high-speed arrow at Harten, but in a flash, Joe caught the arrow and snapped it in two.
"Why did you break it?" Number 3 complained. "That's expensive—it's made of Mithril!"
"Really, Number 4?" Joe countered. "You've become a superhuman and you're still relying on weapons?"
"It's just to make it more fun," Number 4 replied.
The strangers inside the cave called out: "Boss, we didn't find the blueprints."
"No need to search," Number 4 said. "I know where they are. That bastard has them."
"Heh," Joe chuckled. "Is that any way to talk? Is that how I raised you?"
Rage flickered across Number 4's face. "You have no right to say you raised me!" He drew a Lightning Arrow. The wind began to swirl around it, as if a localized storm was gathered in his hand. He released the shot.
There was a faint hum, a moment of silence, and then a massive explosion that leveled half the surrounding trees. When the dust cleared, Joe was still standing, his shirt gone, wearing only his trousers.
"Oh, you're tough, Four-Eyes!" Number 4 mocked. "Looks like I'll have to blast this whole area."
The scene shifted to Joe. The camera zoomed in on his face; he smiled, then his expression hardened. "It seems I'm going to have to kill one of my sons. Very well. You're going to die, my former subject."
"Shut your mouth, you bastard!" Number 4 screamed. "I'd rather eat filth than have you call me 'son'!"
Number 4 activated his suit. His form shifted as a featureless black mask covered his face, until an electronic, smiling face appeared on the visor's screen.
"I'm going to kill you, you damned Mr. Joe."
To be continued...