The Chronicles of Hyde

Flashbacks.

[Present time: August 2nd]

A monster crashed through the motel's windows, spraying glass everywhere and rolling to a stop on the ratty carpet. Gasping in pain, it crawled to the window frame and stood up, using hands that wore dark, silvery, gauntlets to hold its body up. It peered outside the broken window. 

A few moments later, the choppy drone of a helicopter signaled the arrival of the aircraft. The Monstrous Figure ducked out of view as the helicopter hovered over the Motel, shining a blinding spotlight down. After a few seconds, it moved on and continued with its search. 

The monster flipped the light on and slumped against the wall, breathing heavily. Blood dripped down its side. The Monster pulled its hood down, revealing a silver dome-like helmet. It reached its hand behind his head, and there was a beep. The helmet electronically receded and popped off, revealing the scarred face of a boy around the age of seventeen. 

The boy let out the breath he had been holding since the helicopter flew overhead, then let out a long, painful groan. He took a shaky breath and inspected the source of his pain. Blood slowly dripped down onto the carpet, originating from a wound on his right side. The boy shook off his strange gauntlets and halfway unstrapped the odd clothing he was wearing, to better examine his wound. 

The clothes and skin scabbed together, so separating the clothing from the skin was painful. The wound itself was caused by a bullet that missed the major body mass and hit his side. Luckily the bullet hit no major organs and had just scraped him, but it could be worse. He certainly felt horrible. He was no doctor, so he had no Idea. No idea, but tons of pain. 

A thought popped into his head. He would have to pay his Uncle a visit, he had some questions. 

He grabbed his bag and stumbled into his room's bathroom and stared into the mirror. His neck and cheek were blood specked and he had an angry look on his face. He tried to soften his expression but was unable to do it. He sighed. 

"Josh," He said to himself, glaring at his reflection," You damn near got yourself killed by a sniper, of all things."

Josh fumbled in his bag for the first aid kit and loosely grabbed the bandages. His clothing seemed to be a black trenchcoat with underlying armor plates. It was slightly difficult to take off in his pain, but he managed to remove it from his body. He then washed and cleaned his wound before wrapping his it up in bandages. 

Fatigue and pain made him stumble and he gripped the sink for stability, but it was not enough. He sank to the floor, kneeling. 

One thought held all his focus. His enemies knew who he was. There was a traitor. And Josh knew only one person that may have connected the dots. 

[One Year Ago: September 19th]

Josh awoke to his father shaking him. Before he could ask what was wrong, his father put a finger to his lips and gestured to be followed. Groggily and reluctantly, Josh slid out of his bed, eyeing the alarm clock that read 3:30 a.m. 

He followed his father down the stairs, and through the kitchen, all the while wondering why he had to be awake at three in the morning. 

After a few moments, he concluded it literally could be anything. His father was kind but strict. Very smart, but unusual. Examples of this included nothing lower than a 4.0 GPA at school and his forced teachings of a boring, little-known language. But, this made Josh smarter and uselessly fluent in the language of Vortredyn. 

 In short, the reason for this rude awakening could be anything from a bad report card to an announcement of the end of the world. 

His first thought was that his father had finally finished what he had been working on for the past couple of months. He kept it a "secret," but it probably wasn't that exciting. He was a biomedical engineer at a local research facility, so that might have something to do with it. Maybe a new tool that he had invented to help someone walk easier or not hiccup. Useful yes, but not exactly the most interesting thing in the world, at least to Josh.