Ataxia

Prologue / 0

PART I

THE CONTROLLED ATAXIA

The sun was falling asleep behind the horizon of the ocean was a sumptuous sight. Miles McKenna settled on the beach of San Luis, Colorado, soaking in the ambience. It was amicable for once, it being throughly tranquil. Before, there had been chaos, world-ending in fact. But now, with no one knowing he was alive, everything was impeccable.

Scrunching footsteps approached behind him. Miles elevated to his feet hastily, whipping around as fast as a whisk. No one was there, but he knew better. Someone was there. But the real question was: who? A man in his twenties entered into his vast vision, dark skin, shaved head, wearing ripped jeans and a shirt with no sleeves. Miles backpedaled, encasing his own hands in knifelike ice, prepared to kill. The man's eyes were a vibrant silver-grey color.

"Silver!" Miles whisper-shouted, exasperated. "B-But Darin killed you! I saw it with my own eyes!" Silver stood before Miles, towering over him by ten inches.

"Well then your eyes must've been wrong," his voice was broad and vigorous.

Silver snatched the young teen's icy hand, demolishing the ice and, with the other hand, sent a soaring punch to his face. Miles plunged into the rock, his lip split and bleeding inordinately. He toiled to his feet and Silver punted his ribs, forcing the boy to collapse to the ground once more. Miles stood on his feet, struggling to the ocean until he was ankle-deep. Silver retracted back, already foreseeing the teen's attack. Miles bent the ocean at his will, forming the water around his feet and ankles to freeze. He forced the water to create a meager wave to slash Silver in the face. He missed.

"Nice try, water boy," he spat. Wings whipped from Silver's back, qualifying to take flight. Miles' eyes extended in desperation and he crumbled the ice, running as fast as his thin legs could carry him into the ocean. Just before Miles was about to dash into the water before Silver captured him by his underarms in midair.

"Let me go, you winged-freak!" Miles blared, trying to wrench off Silver's hands.

"No chance," Silver taped what looked like a clear bandaid to his forearm.

Miles was unconscious in a matter of seconds.

[ <><><> ]

Miles' eyes gradually opened, noticing he was looking up to a very intimate face: Icarus Meyer. He had features very congeneric to his father's. The same cloudy blue eyes and a thin face and sharp nose.

"Icarus...," Miles murmured, blinking to adjust his vision. "Where's President Jürgen Meyer?" His voice was pastel and droopy. Whatever Silver did, it made him feel like war was taking place in his stomach and he was about to pass out.

"You've been gone for too long, my father committed suicide six months ago." He stood upright, pulling the lapis golf blue shirt he was wearing. Miles' eyes enlarged, looking up with consternation.

"But why? He had a perfect life and was very successful." Miles said, puzzled.

"There are many things you don't know about my father, Miles," Icarus replied callously.

"Why did you bring me here?" Miles exclaimed. "I did nothing to offend you or the world government!"

Icarus merely scoffed. "Boy, you drowned half the U.S. with your so-called special 'powers'. You murdered millions." His cloudy eyes glinted in the faint light of the rain-stained window outside.

"Only to protect the world from your father's ugly goons that were going to kill Darin and Farin, not to include Isis! They were my best friends, Icarus, would you do the same for your friends and family and country?" The young teen revolted.

"Of course I would!" Icarus rampaged, grazing his fingers through his plastic-looking blonde hair. "It's my country for God's sake, Miles! What do you think?"

"Just like your father, I think you would only care about yourself," Miles spat.

Slap!

Icarus whacked his hand across the young teen's cheek. Tears cascaded from Miles' eyes, and he looked up, his dark face flushed.

"Don't you ever say anything about my father, you foolish young man!" Tears dammed up in Icarus' eyes, his fists clamped and his knuckles white as snow. "He was a good man!"

"Was," Miles breathed just loud enough for Icarus to hear him. "You know I'm right."

After a moment of silence, Icarus massaged his forehead as if he had an immense migraine. The tears were gone as if his eyes swallowed them up. He sat behind the extensive wooden desk labeled with a plaque that wrote: President Jürgen Meyer.

"Take this traitor away," Icarus ordered. Silver jerked Miles by the underarms again. "Let him never see the light again."

"I'll be coming back, Icarus!" Miles shrieked as he was dragged down the hallway. "And don't you forget it!"