1 The Beginning

*DOOR BREAKING*

BAAAAMM...

-NATIONAL SECURITY! HANDS ON YOUR HEAD, NOW! HANDS ON YOUR HEAD!

Yes, Dad... I don't think I'm going to make it this time. I couldn't find him. I couldn't...

Well, I don't think you understand anything about what's going on. Maybe you should be asking yourself, "Hey, why are these guys in the national force armed to the teeth pushing this guy to the ground and reading his rights?" Well, that's not the right question to ask. Or maybe you're wondering "Hey, is the main character in this story a badass villain looking to destroy the world or something?" Well, it's not the right question either. The right question to ask would be "Where's the damn green light?" But hey, I don't blame you for not knowing where the damn green light is. To understand what this is about, I think I'm going to have to tell the story from the beginning, right from the beginning.

I never met my mother, she abandoned me in an orphanage when I was two, I lived in that orphanage until I was eleven years old when I met him... It's my dad. At first I didn't want anything to come from that man, after all, where he was for the last nine years of my life? But I agreed to move in with him when I thought about it, anything would be better than spending my life in an orphanage, or at least a part of it, since I wouldn't stay there as an adult. In the early days I bombarded him with questions, about my mother and about him basically. He told me he didn't know she was pregnant with me, and when he found out he searched like crazy for me until he found me in this orphanage. My mother died a few months after she abandoned me at that orphanage, she was addicted to heroin and died of an overdose a few months later. Before she died she had written in her diary about me, when he found the diary and discovered it, spent the last few years searching in various orphanages looking for an abandoned kid, two-years-old, born on September three, of the year two thousand. It was harsh, I imagine, looking so long for a child and believing that someone would have saved the date, i can't imagine how hard it must have been. After that he told me that he worked as an illusionist, and that his specialty was artistic hypnosis. I never liked magicians, whenever I saw them on TV I thought they were just good liars who made money on stupid people, but I became interested in hypnosis. Stevan, my father, was a well-

known hypnologist, before being an illusionist he went to psychology college at a renowned college, he discovered hypnosis there, which caused him to drop out of college and devote himself entirely for thirty years to studying and developing his own form of hypnosis, which he called "The voice," was a method of his own that he created that consisted of vocalizations of words he named "Control" , he told me that before the words Control needed to be based on the psychological of the target of hypnosis, if the guy was tall he made himself feel that he was shrinking, or that he could not stand, if the subject was afraid of snakes, the object in his hand became a snake, and so on. My father's years of development caused "The Voice" to evolve to such an extent that he no longer needed a psychological trigger, and all it took to hypnotize someone was just the vocalization of whatever the word was. A beautiful trick that would probably win any prize that was of any category that fit, my father just didn't count on one thing, my mother. She was his stage assistant who also helped him with his hypnosis research, unfortunately she was also addicted to heroin, and that at one of his parties ended up revealing my father's study to some drug dealer. It wouldn't have been a big deal if just this drug dealer hadn't let this subject slip to one of his suppliers who found my father's study rather "interesting" and decided to look for my father to come up with a very simple plan, use his skills to rob switzerland's largest bank. My father obviously refused to do this work, since his study was an attempt to reduce pain in people with pain-causing diseases constantly. Needless to say, the guys didn't like his refusal. My father then used "The Voice" to make these men go away and forget all about him. A good idea at the time. But my dad didn't count on those guys' boss using a hidden camera and recording all the conversation in a video without audio. All it took was a simple lip reading and an explanation from the man on the other side of the camera for the boss to come up with a plan against my father.

They came into our house at dawn when we were asleep, they were all wearing sound mufflers in their ears, they took me hostage and forced my father to rob the damned largest Swiss bank. In broad daylight my father came into the bank with a loudspeaker, and ordered all people to sleep and only wake up when he ordered. It was by far the scariest and most fantastic thing I've ever seen, or watched, some time later watching the footage. Twenty armed men entering one of the richest banks in the world, quietly carrying several bags of money and valuables. After they emptied all the safes and kept all the objects and money, my father made all the people wake up and couldn't see all those people armed there. The biggest and most brilliant robbery in history. Unfortunately, right after that my father was shot. A shot right in the chest fired by a masked guy and using a sound muffler that is seen as clear as the day on the bank's high-resolution cameras, but that thanks to "The Voice" could not be seen by anyone who was in the speaker area. I can't tell you how many times I've watched this recording, my father on the floor, his chest bleeding and several people around him, walking, stepping on his blood, or realizing that there was a good man there, dying and dying slowly and painfully. A good man. After a few minutes they finally realized my father's presence there, but it was too late. The robbers had already escaped, there was a dead man at the entrance to the bank and billions of dollars stolen that were only noticed hours after the incident, when they checked the cameras and saw what had happened. That day I was tied to the living room floor when I heard a call.

*Phone ringtone*

-Hello... Is it done yet? And the boy... Okay, i'll be right back.

A tall, hooded man came towards me holding a gun, he looked at me and said:

-I'm sorry, kid. But you're going to have to leave.

I thought this was going to be the end of me, and I was going to die. A lot of things went through my head at the time. The things my father had told me, the months he and I spent together, fishing, doing some shows. And right after a not so long journey in my life a thing of the present moment came into my head "Hey, this guy is not using a sound muffler..."

---Hey, you feel like letting me go!---

-Ohh. Of course, just a moment.

---How many guys are in the house?---

-Just me and three other guys.

---You know, you're really in the mood to kill these guys, go out there and then come back here.---

-Ah... Okay.

*BANG!*

*BANG!*

*BANG!*

-Soon.

---That's great. Now, you know, you really want to put a bullet in your own head.---

-Yes, I am.

For a moment I saw a tear falling from his face. I don't know, maybe it was the death of his comrades, I don't know if that kind of person has that kind of feeling, or maybe it was just the terror of not being able to control his own body and just having to watch as he kills himself, without being able to do anything. Or maybe, I don't know, it's not like it really matters.

*BANG!*