Milan.
The Former Residence of Hadrian Knightfall
One room remains. A combination of rage and fire destroyed the rest. A white-suited man rests in a chair, surveying a desk. The grating noise of a fan, the bright, stark white light does not bother the man. He looks, confused, at the collection of passports. One of them might be him. Truly him. Not aa false name, not a hoax. But that is unlikely. His memories lost in whatever process Orpheus went through to resurrect him, he decided in a split second to keep from Orpheus that he was not of is blood. His first goal is to find himself. But should that fail... He would simply have to become worthy of the name Hadrian. There is a car waiting outside. The large trunk holds a glass case. Inside, a gift from his soon-to-be-late benefactor. There is also a suitcase. Inside the suitcase, several changes of clothes, and a recording.
"Hadrian. My death is the end of your debt. You may feel free to move forward with your life. Or. You can carry out my wishes. The other Knightfalls, you should not hunt. It would be a waste of your talents. Instead, travel to Iceland. There is a man there, Percival. Tell him who sent you. Explain. He should provide you adequate living quarters, and a fresh start. The other gift I give you is if you decide not to forget your past. Iceland needs a protector. Not a vigilante, but a government sanctioned hero. That could be you. A symbol. To avenge me. Or you could burn it. Whatever you choose, I wish you luck.
--Orpheus"
The man considers it. Sweeping the passports onto the floor, and smashing the light on the ground, he gets up, pulls on the small mask from his pocket, and leaves. His pure-white suit seems to glow as he leaves the last remnants of this life behind. Hadrian Knightfall tosses a lighter behind him, enters the car, and watches his other lives burn.
New Reykjavik.
The New Residence of Hadrian Knightfall.
Percival was not home. So Hadrian simply cashed in his supposed relative's name and left, holding the deed to a newly-built home. Not as extravagant as the old one, to be sure. But much more convenient. It's an apartment, six rooms. The bedroom window is right next to the new train lines. And as Hadrian begins to unpack, it thunders by. It's silent, but no one could miss it. An image flashes in his mind. He is leaping out of the window, holding on tightly to the gab in between cars, and pulling himself up. The skyline presents itself to him, the setting sun illuminating the spires of the city that the Walking Weapons built. And a small smile graces his face, for once in this life. Changing out of his clothes and into a more comfortable robe, he settles onto his new bed. Sleep, for once in his life, does not evade him. But it is not a pleasant sleep. A pale, dim room surrounds him. Cloth brushes his face. His vision is obscured by a poorly crafted cloth mask. His arms, constrained by a straitjacket. The handle-less door swings open. A man enters. Black shirt, black jeans. Hs face, is familiar. Like a reflection, but twisted. Hadrian is struggling now. The man reaches out and grasps his chin. Tilting his face upward, he smiles. "--" He opens his mouth to speak, but no words escape. Hadrian wakes up, gasping. Head in his hands, sweat pouring down his face, he checks the time. Four twenty-three. Something tells him that he won't be getting much more sleep. In six minutes, he has dressed. At four thirty he is climbing out the window. The train roars by, right on time. A leap, part fine-tuned muscle, part steel and wire, propels him on top of the vehicle. The darkness feels almost right. The silence, however, is broken, the moment he lunges off of the train. Rolling onto a rooftop, he is met with a drone, taser darts primed. He had studied the security blueprints on the plane. They were expertly designed, but not without their weaknesses. "Halt. I am Hadrian Knightfall, cousin of Orpheus Knightfall. Recognition code 927. I am a potato." And it left. So did Hadrian. A new life, a new mission. Perhaps Orpheus had done him a favor after all, bringing him back.
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