Page 9 of Black and Brown

Grace had come home after working overnight, stocking at the lumber yard, to find his mother’s dead body on the floor in the kitchen and his father sleeping off a drunken stupor.

Grace made it so he never woke up—the death would be an assumed overdose by their one lazy sheriff and his two untrained deputies.

Grant County had a population of less than two thousand. Grace wouldn’t be missed until it was too late and the trail he didn’t leave behind was ice-cold.

After he’d buried his mother in the field where she’d liked to pick fresh flowers for her kitchen—and where he’d often watch her cook for hours for her small catering business—it took a couple of days of hitchhiking and cadging rides to get to the closest Marine Corps recruiting office.

Grace didn’t know how he felt because he didn’t feel much of anything these days. He wasn’t happy, sad, uncomfortable, nervous, afraid…hell, he wasn’t even curious about the serums anymore.

“Your mental conditioning is well underway now. In a few weeks, you’ll be advancing to physical training.”

The scientist tapped several keys on a computer keyboard a few feet away.

“You’ve probably been feeling a bit more jittery lately. That’s the serum enhancing your metabolism.”

Grace didn’t have any questions, so he just listened.

“As the second generation, you’ve exceeded all expectations. Your intelligence scores were already off the charts, but now”—the man rubbed, then clapped his hands together as if eager to play with a new toy—“your cognitive abilities are unparalleled.”

The thick oil-like serum glistened in the vial, a shimmering liquid that seemed to pulse with its own energy.

The moment it entered Grace’s bloodstream, he felt as if he’d been set on fire and his blood was boiling in his veins.

He never grimaced, grunted, or gave any indication of discomfort.

Grace didn’t know what the concoction consisted of, but he did know that his strength, speed, and agility were inconceivable.

Ah.

Now he knew how he felt.

He felt powerful.

Grace could only imagine how he’d feel in another ten weeks.

Mirage

Mirage didn’t know where he was. He’d been blindfolded while transported by vehicle.

He was told the illicit Ravens agency operated on the upper floors of an architecture firm’s skyscraper in McClean, Virginia…and nothing else.

No one had called him Matthew or Dr. Adams Jr. since he’d arrived.

When he walked inside and down the long, cold corridor, he was greeted by two men in white lab coats who looked him up and down as if he were a bachelor for auctioning.

“Right this way, Mirage.”

It’d been his name since Mr. Fancy Suit described his disappearance.

He had a fucking code name.

He liked it.

Being called by his father’s name was too much and kept him lingering in a past he was looking forward to forgetting.

His mother would be disappointed in his new chosen profession, but he’d done what he had to for his sanity and peace of mind.

Mirage was given an apartment on one of the upper floors with a view fitting of the CEO of a billion-dollar corporation.