Yeah, it's a new story. I'm taking a break from Raven's Cry, and just a short breather from Beneath the Mask to gather my ideas, so here's a new story. Enjoy, and let me know what you think. Ty!

Know True Face

ONE

What does someone do, when they do not know, truly, who they are? What they like and dislike, whether they would rather read or skateboard, if they ever wanted to skydive or enter a knitting contest - if they know nothing, what do they do?

How are they supposed to live a life worth living, when they cannot live it for themselves? How could they serve another, when they do not know who it is that is serving?

How can they argue politics with a friend, if they do not have their own opinion, or if they do not even know if they have a friend? What is their purpose for living, then, if they do not know?

Can such an existence as this, be really considered as living?

-

“Yo, Books!” The group of four teens waved and hooted at the boy who walked up to join them. Tall, with dark brown hair and blue eyes, he was fairly average looking; and if it weren’t for the quiet air about him, one would assume he was just another teenage boy.

He strode toward them silently, hands kept reservedly at his sides, eyes serious, and a hesitant smile on his lips. The others all clapped him on the back and greeted him enthusiastically when he arrived, while he silently stood there, with that same hesitant little curve of his lips.

“Books! How’s it going?” A tall, sandy-haired youth asked as he threw a friendly arm across the newcomer’s shoulders.

“Fine,” The newcomer, dubbed ‘Books’, answered in quiet voice.

“Yeah, man, tell us what you’re doing for your science project, so we can all copy it,” another boy threw in, grinning, but in a friendly way. He was rather stocky, with messy jet-black hair and brown eyes.

“Sorry, Kal, but I can’t.” Books’ smile grew ever so slightly, for the briefest amount of time.

“Hn!” Kal snorted. “No one would ever know! You live alone in that junky apartment block - there’s no one to complain!”

“Sure,” a freckled redhead put in, “and the teachers would never notice that five of the science projects look suspiciously the same.”

“Oh no, not at all,” the sandy-haired teen agreed, his grin telling otherwise. “Seriously, Books, you should consider it. We can all come over tonight, and hang out. If it’s all right with you.”

“Sorry, Trey,” Books shook his head slightly. “The landlady’s ill, and she doesn’t want any undue noise right now.”

“Eh, who cares about some crazy old landlady?” The last boy snickered, tossing a lit cigarette to the ground, and grinding it with the toe of his boot. Lifting a hand, he almost delicately brushed back his gelled hair, from where it was spiked to the side. His whole head was a unruly mess of random spikes, like it was a hasty, two minute job. Yet the rumor was, Shane spent over an hour every morning on his hair. “She’s probably just faking it, to keep Books from havin’ us over.”

“I wouldn’t blame her,” Kal sighed, over-dramatically. “Last time you were there, you almost set her hair on fire by throwing your cigarettes at her. You know, I don’t think she likes you very much.”

“Nah,” the redhead disagreed. “I think the real reason is, she likes us all so much, she has to keep us away. See, too much of a good thing can be bad for you. If we keep going there, she’s going to give us all her belongings out of love, or something freaky like that.”

“Kal, Darcy, stop it,” Trey stepped between them, punching them both in the arms to make them shut up. “Give Books a break. Unlike the rest of us, he doesn’t have parents to save him from the horrors of little old landladies, so he has to suffer her evil ways.”

That got some hoots and grins, and Books had to cope with being elbowed in the guts. Unfortunately, despite being tall, he was rather thin, and somewhat delicate, so this treatment had him nearly doubling over in pain.

“I...I gotta go...” he managed to gasp out. It was Trey who shoved the other boys away, and gave Books some room.

“You all right?” He asked, concern in his baby-blue eyes despite his grin.

“Y-yeah,” Books nodded, and gave a small, hesitant smile. “I’ll see you at school tomorrow, Trey.”

“Sure thing, buddy,” Trey agreed, and the other teens called out their farewells. With that, Books began to make his way home.

The city was crazily busy, even though it was nearly midnight. In fact, with all the lights, you could hardly tell it was night. Even so, Books carefully crossed the street, after checking both ways, then hurriedly walked down the sidewalk. He kept nervously watching the people around him, and hastily looking away when one of them met his gaze.

Despite all his caution, he never did notice that he was being watched.

-

The dark shadow ran lightly across the buildings, leaping from rooftop to rooftop in spectacular leaps that only a very extraordinary human could do. As it followed the teenager, the shadow snuck along the roofs, unseen by the city below.

The shadow followed, and watched, alert to every surrounding. And when the teenager crossed beneath a broken streetlight, briefly hidden in the shadows of the night, the shadow made its move.

The teenager never knew what hit him; he was out like a light long before the shadow dragged him into an alleyway. There, the shadow emptied the teen’s pockets, pulling out everything, and placing them in his own. After taking a moment to study the boy’s face, the shadow rose, and stood over the unconscious form.

If I kill him, there will be a body, the Shadow thought emotionlessly. A body is an untied end; it will be found sooner or later, and then questions will be asked. So that leaves me with only one option.

And with that thought, the Shadow bent over the teenager, and got to work.

-

Miss Gerina truly was ill, despite some of her tenant’s scoffing disbelief. She had a chest infection, and thus a terrible, hacking cough. It was a horrible infection, and she believed, in all of her seventy-two years, she had never been this ill.

In fact, she felt so bad, that she didn’t even bother to make the usual muffins for her tenants. Instead, she went straight to the couch, and flopped out with a cold cloth on her forehead. Such as it was, she hardly noticed the boy come home.

He always had such a quiet way about him, it was hard to notice he was there. But he had become one of her favorite tenants - he was always so kind and polite, unlike those rowdy friends of his. Why was he friends with them anyway? - that she always made an effort to greet him when he returned.

It was only a faint creak on the stairs that alerted her to his presence, and she called out, “That you,

Brendon?”

“Yes,” came the quiet reply. Miss Gerina frowned.

“You sound a little...hoarse. Are you ill? I’ll tell you, I hope I didn’t pass on any germs.”

“No...I am fine. I am going to my room now.”

His voice was quiet, and sounded slightly flat to her ears, but she blamed it on her stuffy ears. She shifted on the couch. “Well dear, if you need anything, you know I’m here. Good night!” She never did hear a reply, but she assumed he had gone to his room. She shook her head. “Poor boy must be tired, staying up so late.”

Inside Brendon’s room, a slightly tall, brown-haired, blue-gray eyed teenager sat on the bed. He pulled out his pockets, and spread the items on the bed beside him. Two ten dollar bills, a driver’s license, a picture of Brendon with his friends, a piece of paper with ‘two AAA batteries, some copper wire, two containers, glass or hard plastic, gold piece from jewelry (ask Miss Gerina), lead or sulfur pieces, single white rose for G’s seventy-third’ scrawled on it in neat handwriting, and a dime. All had been slipped inside a simple, leather wallet, save for the piece of paper.

The teenager studied all very carefully, especially the driver’s license, and the piece of paper. Once he was finished, he walked about the small room, and connecting bathroom, also carefully inspecting everything. Once he was finished, he sat himself in front of the mirror, and observed his own face.

It was strangely devoid of all emotion, and his blue-gray eyes had a flat, blank stare to them. His brown hair was just that; a simple, boring brown. He stared into the mirror, and began speaking in a low monotone.

“My name is Brendan Kaski. I am seventeen years old. I go to the Garington State High School with my friends, Kal, Trey, Shane, and Darcy. Even though they are the classic jocks of any school, I am somewhat of a geek. I am quite intelligent, yet reserved and quiet, and somewhat timid. I probably was more outgoing before my parents disappeared - possibly died in an accident - afterwards which I became more withdrawn. This roughly explains my relationship with my four friends; I was most likely friends with them for a long time, and still are, despite our differences.

“I live in a large apartment-like building with four other rooms. My landlady is a old woman named Miss Gerina, and although she is somewhat strict and controlling, she is lonely. Because of this, I became close friends with her, even though - “

As he spoke, his voice began to change, becoming a little lighter, and less deep. In fact, it became an exact replica of the earlier Brendan’s. Also, his face seemed to change. It was slow, and gradual, but the blue-gray eyes seemed to become alight with a hidden intelligence, and a deep sadness. The face became quiet, and reserved, yet there seemed to be a hesitant, or perhaps, timid, smile playing about the lips. The muscles in the forehead became a tad tense, adding to the whole ‘hesitant’ expression, while the muscles in the jaw became a little slack. This tweaking of the facial muscles continued on, until a face that looked remarkably like Brendan’s showed in the mirror.

However, if you truly looked closely, you would be able to tell that this was not Brendan. The structure of the face was too different - the cheekbones too high, the chin not pointy enough, the eyes had a bit too much gray in them, the shape of the head itself too round - yet, it would not matter.

Nobody would look that closely, because they would believe that it was, in truth, Brendan. The look in those eyes, the carefully composed expression, the way he carried himself, that quiet air about him, that voice - it was all undeniably Brendan’s. The person gazing in the mirror, while quietly talking, was, Brendan, completely and wholly in his mind.

And with the last few words, he finished. Brendon got up from before the mirror, and went to bed.