Original Chapter One, Part One

My sister… They’ve taken her. They’ve taken my sister.
Why? I don’t know why. All I know is that I promised to her that this wouldn’t happen again. And I failed her.
I failed her, like my father failed me. The one man I promised I would never become, I am turning into. And it’s ripping me apart.
I can’t think straight anymore. My memories have become foggy; Either I am thinking of her more and more, or I am thinking of everything else less and less. The only ones that are making any coherent images in my mind are of her. My sister.
Kite.


   "The weather's been rather nice lately, don't you think, dear?" said the woman occupying the train car's uppermost seat.

   "I suppose so," said the gruff man to the left of her, "But it's hard to enjoy with all this news of riots and armed conflict in this horrid little territory. Why the state, or even my own department, wanted it is beyond me."

   "For the oil reserves, I've heard," said the woman absentmindedly, staring out the window, watching the scenery gradually change, seemingly from one world to the next.

   "Ah, yes," said the man mournfully, "consul Loffman, and his Labor Party, always after their oil, scarcely concerned for the well being of the common man."

   "Or woman," she added, still staring out at the landscape as it rapidly became greener, departing from the cold wastes behind them.

   "You know what I mean," the man chuckled, " but really," he added gravely, "had I known working for the census bureau would take me to such remote, dangerous little areas, I might have thought twice about taking that job offer," he finished, sternly.

   "But it pays so well," the woman said, thumbing through a magazine that was lying in the rack above her seat.

   "Which of course, we'll need the money, what with a baby coming along," the man said pleasantly, patting the woman's stomach.

   "But I just wish we didn't have to travel so much, it puts such a strain on you, and I imagine, the baby. If only we coul---"

   The man and woman jumped, as well as the car's third occupant, to an explosion not far away.

   "Must be those rebels," said the man, half bitterly, half exasperatedly, clutching his wife in his arms.
At this, the dark haired young man in the corner ceased his furious scribbling on his bit of paper, and began to be noticeably interested in what the man had to say.

   He was a man of roughly twenty, tall and thin, yet well proportioned, very pale in complexion, with a pair of dark, slanted eyes.

   He leaned forward slightly, his length of black hair falling forward to conceal his eyes, to better listen in on the couple at the other end of the car's conversation.

   "So many groups opposing the state these days," the man began, zealously, "and for what? Our nation is the pinnacle of liberty on this continent, one of the few democracies in this sea of communist, fascist, and, God forbid, theocratic nations. What are they protesting?"

   "But I'm sure you know what I mean, eh?" said the man good humoredly, motioning to the young man in the corner, dressed in a dark, somewhat ornamental, military uniform.

   The young man leaned back, his hair falling into place, revealing his eyes. Though his hair still seemed pushed forward, as if by a backwind; all but for a small bit in the back, sticking off in the opposite direction, defying convention.

   He paused for a moment, as if choosing his words carefully.

   "Of course," he said, in a voice that was soft yet cold.

   The man laughed uncomfortably after the response, and the woman seemed oddly attentive.

   The young man made note of their reactions. The couple stared on, as if trying to place a familiar face, at his distinct appearance. After a moment, the two of them seemed slightly shocked.

   "Say... what's your name?" the man finally asked, slowly.

   "I'm Oreth Allmahn," he said, in the same softly cold voice, though this time more politely, "but I much prefer to be called Rem."

   There was a long silence, punctuated only by the rhythmic sound of the train on its rails.

   "Oh, I'm sorry, it's just you look... so distinctly like...," the man began. "Never mind, it doesn't matter."

   There was another otherwise silent, rail clacking silence.

   "The train will be arriving at the station in Altesti shortly," came the voice over the intercom.

   "You'll be getting off in Altesti, I presume?" asked the woman to Rem, gazing at the window at the arising cityscape.

   "That's the plan," Rem said, going back to his writing on the hanging table retracted from the seat in front of him.

   After a short while, the couple began conversing again, and Rem, apparently done writing, folded the paper and tucked it into an already addressed envelope, and slid it carefully into his shirt pocket without sealing it.

   As Rem was no longer occupied with his writing, he began to stare out the window, resting his chin in his palm. His face belied no particular emotion, and his eyes focused on nothing specifically.

   Outside, buildings, homes, and people going about their daily lives came into view and rushed by just as quickly, as they began to enter the city. There was a thick overcast of clouds, with a part or two letting sunlight in in magnificent pillars of light in the afternoon air.

   "We are now arriving in Altesti station," spoke the intercom, "please remain seated."

   The car's occupants shifted, collecting what they could of their things while still seated.

   Rem had few things to collect, the rest of what remained on the table in front of him, he pocketed these small items, and pushed the table back into the back of the seat in front of him. He positioned himself in his seat so as to allow an easy exit, and set one hand on the crumpled pile of cloth next to him, in the seat nearest the aisle.

   The train was in the process of braking, slowing more and more, the urban scenery no longer rushing by, faces now becoming individually discernible.

   The incessant sound of wheels clacking on rails that filled the train ride's silences lessened in tempo, as the train came to a soft stop.

   "Thank you, the train has now come to a complete stop," the intercom sounded once more, "it is now safe to exit."

   With an electronic beep, the doors opened automatically, and a cacophony of human voices, automobiles, and a wide variety of other sounds filled the car.

   As the couple was busy grabbing their array of luggage from the racks above their seats, Rem picked up his cloak-like article of clothing from the seat next to him, and draped it about his shoulders. It came down a little past the waist, and he fastened it tight at the neck, and made his way to the door.

   As Rem left he was powerfully greeted by the sounds, smells, and most notably, the cold of the city. Holding himself in an attempt to stay warm, Rem walked off the station platform, and into the city of Altesti to do what he'd come here to do, to find his missing sister.