A Twist of Fate
PG 13
New York. New York.
It was 2 :00 am in the morning and even as the bright lights blazed in beautiful city on Ninth Avenue everyone was home. And asleep.
All the beautiful skyscraper buildings including the Empire State building was aglow but was infact deserted
all were empty but one.
AZTEX WCC.
Not only was that building not at all deserted but also operating in full force.
AZTEX WCC was a complex computer programming and software manufacturing company that specialised in the rare various experimental test on animals and a few unlucky humans.
Very unfortunate volunteers
While computers were very often required in the company it was merely just a deceptive front to the real reason behind the complex company that never slept
Madelin Peyton stood at the window of the hundredth floor watching as her colleage got into his car.
A black new Mercedes sports coupe which as smart as it looked it still managed to maintain a serious demeanour to its beauty.
A strand of pristenely combed dark red hair fell in her face as she leaned forward her immaculate suit not even picking up the slightest of a crease, and as the car sailed smoothly out of the softly lit carpark its return was expected the next morning at 7 :00 am yet Irina Derevko's earlier words to Peyton haunted her now.
Madelin Peyton knew with a strange certainty that the car would return in only a mere forty minutes. . . . .
* * * * *
Julian Sark reached forward to the radio and switched it of as it played dull classical note and he needed nothing more than silence right now.
It had been one full year since that fateful day when she had died. . . .
One year
The car zipped swiftly through the fresh blooming air at that hour of the morning.
His dark blue eyes caught sight of a huge banner hanging of a bridge he was crossing underneath.
Blood dontations.
For the more unfortunate and "no pun intended" bloodless citizen of New York
Sark laughed softly wondering how many fools would come baring their arm in a way of so called admirable selflessness donating to the hospitals.
'What mortifying losers' he thought contemptuously his lip curling in distaste
Julian Sark was a cold calculating man with a mind so cunning that a person couldnt even begin to imagine what went on in his mind.
On second they probably wouldnt want to know because they would regret it.
Even for this hour of the morning he didnt appear tired, his eyes fixed firmly on the road.
He passed another bridge there was also a sign post there.
It read Winterball Charity Fair.
His facial expression not changing at all he floored the accelerator.
As the sleek car zipped through the night the autuam leaves scattering in the cars path everything blurred . . . The dashboard speed metre reading over 300 hundred kms.
The roads remainded empty till . . . Till a girl appeared standing in the middle of the road.
Sark slammed the brakes but the car hit the girl with a sickening jolt.
The beautiful car spun in a circle till it came to a shuddering halt
Sark vacated the fully intact car and walked up to the girl
he didnt need to come close to know she would be infinately dead.
A girl of about eighteen years lay in a bloodied heap, her auburn hair covered in blood olive skin and a demunitive built
her hazel eyes were fluttering her hand twitching slightly.
He slowly leaned down beside her.
Her mouth moved as she struggled to speak but no words came.
A stricken look of unimaginable pain etched her beautiful face.
She suddenly coughed blood and a wave of violent trembling washed over her.
He reached down , and fully aware of the rich blood staining his white pristene shirt, he held her close.
The trembling continued as the crickets sang their song as well as the ochestra of frog in the much more residential area of New York
the place seeming more like a ghost town than a real city right then.
Suddenly the trembling stopped, just as her eyes connected with his bright glowing eyes, and she shuddered her last breath and died right there in his arms. It was many minutes later when he slow eased her back to the ground.
He reached into the pocket of her jeans and pulled out a wallet
he opened the clasp and saw a picture of her mom and dad and then an ID card
"Nadia Starbrite"he murmured softly
Nadia a sweet 18 year old girl who went to college and stayed with her parents Jack and Nancy Starbrite.
He reached down and picked her of the ground.
He walked to the car and Gently he eased her onto the passenger seat of his car
he walked to the drivers side, got in and started the engine. A long lock of brown hung in her fair face and he gently eased it aside.
"Nadia Starbrite, you will ever see your parents again . . . And you will ever remember them . . ."
Sark said softly with a empty finality.
On this night Nadia Santos was would only survive. . . .
PG 13
New York. New York.
It was 2 :00 am in the morning and even as the bright lights blazed in beautiful city on Ninth Avenue everyone was home. And asleep.
All the beautiful skyscraper buildings including the Empire State building was aglow but was infact deserted
all were empty but one.
AZTEX WCC.
Not only was that building not at all deserted but also operating in full force.
AZTEX WCC was a complex computer programming and software manufacturing company that specialised in the rare various experimental test on animals and a few unlucky humans.
Very unfortunate volunteers
While computers were very often required in the company it was merely just a deceptive front to the real reason behind the complex company that never slept
Madelin Peyton stood at the window of the hundredth floor watching as her colleage got into his car.
A black new Mercedes sports coupe which as smart as it looked it still managed to maintain a serious demeanour to its beauty.
A strand of pristenely combed dark red hair fell in her face as she leaned forward her immaculate suit not even picking up the slightest of a crease, and as the car sailed smoothly out of the softly lit carpark its return was expected the next morning at 7 :00 am yet Irina Derevko's earlier words to Peyton haunted her now.
Madelin Peyton knew with a strange certainty that the car would return in only a mere forty minutes. . . . .
* * * * *
Julian Sark reached forward to the radio and switched it of as it played dull classical note and he needed nothing more than silence right now.
It had been one full year since that fateful day when she had died. . . .
One year
The car zipped swiftly through the fresh blooming air at that hour of the morning.
His dark blue eyes caught sight of a huge banner hanging of a bridge he was crossing underneath.
Blood dontations.
For the more unfortunate and "no pun intended" bloodless citizen of New York
Sark laughed softly wondering how many fools would come baring their arm in a way of so called admirable selflessness donating to the hospitals.
'What mortifying losers' he thought contemptuously his lip curling in distaste
Julian Sark was a cold calculating man with a mind so cunning that a person couldnt even begin to imagine what went on in his mind.
On second they probably wouldnt want to know because they would regret it.
Even for this hour of the morning he didnt appear tired, his eyes fixed firmly on the road.
He passed another bridge there was also a sign post there.
It read Winterball Charity Fair.
His facial expression not changing at all he floored the accelerator.
As the sleek car zipped through the night the autuam leaves scattering in the cars path everything blurred . . . The dashboard speed metre reading over 300 hundred kms.
The roads remainded empty till . . . Till a girl appeared standing in the middle of the road.
Sark slammed the brakes but the car hit the girl with a sickening jolt.
The beautiful car spun in a circle till it came to a shuddering halt
Sark vacated the fully intact car and walked up to the girl
he didnt need to come close to know she would be infinately dead.
A girl of about eighteen years lay in a bloodied heap, her auburn hair covered in blood olive skin and a demunitive built
her hazel eyes were fluttering her hand twitching slightly.
He slowly leaned down beside her.
Her mouth moved as she struggled to speak but no words came.
A stricken look of unimaginable pain etched her beautiful face.
She suddenly coughed blood and a wave of violent trembling washed over her.
He reached down , and fully aware of the rich blood staining his white pristene shirt, he held her close.
The trembling continued as the crickets sang their song as well as the ochestra of frog in the much more residential area of New York
the place seeming more like a ghost town than a real city right then.
Suddenly the trembling stopped, just as her eyes connected with his bright glowing eyes, and she shuddered her last breath and died right there in his arms. It was many minutes later when he slow eased her back to the ground.
He reached into the pocket of her jeans and pulled out a wallet
he opened the clasp and saw a picture of her mom and dad and then an ID card
"Nadia Starbrite"he murmured softly
Nadia a sweet 18 year old girl who went to college and stayed with her parents Jack and Nancy Starbrite.
He reached down and picked her of the ground.
He walked to the car and Gently he eased her onto the passenger seat of his car
he walked to the drivers side, got in and started the engine. A long lock of brown hung in her fair face and he gently eased it aside.
"Nadia Starbrite, you will ever see your parents again . . . And you will ever remember them . . ."
Sark said softly with a empty finality.
On this night Nadia Santos was would only survive. . . .
