The first emotion he could remember was fear.   As one might expect from the son of Duke Thurston.   The apartment was a reminder of the world that they existed in, windows permanently locked into place and a front door Adam couldn’t open till the age of seventeen.  The men who stood by the door seemed to reside as Thurston’s avatars, men who struck a similarly imposing figure, silent save for an occasional grunt, ever watching.  His father would discuss events that had occurred in the house as though it had been his eyes that had viewed them, as though he had always been there.  Duke’s appearances were occasional and brief with him staying a night at the most, ending with him screaming into a phone behind a closed door and then leaving with his eyes fixed at the exit.  His parent’s seemed to barely speak, dinner was soundtracked with only the sound of mastication and a soft flutter of the air conditioning in the summer.   He assumed his mother wasn’t always a distant woman.  It seemed that the older he got the more time she spent looking out of the window.  He assumed that there was once a time when she was a warm and approachable, just outside of his memory’s grasp.

The men learned to watch his brother whenever he was within arm’s distance of him, and he soon learnt to move closer to the silent men whenever he brother’s sweeping gazes paused on him.

Often he looked down out the windows to the world beneath him, ants and beetles moved there, each with their own alien will, incomprehensible to him.  His questions about the world outside were persistent, and the people around him regularly were unable to provide him with complete answers.  They began to provide him with books on a wide range of subjects, and he consumed them voraciously.  He was unlikely to become a similar man to his father.

One of the few people he knew by name was his teacher and advisor to the president of Thurst Corp, Reynolds.  A man of slim build and hushed concise sentences.  He always appeared in grey suits, which were not dissimilar from the dull hue of his skin, as though the dye was absorbed into his pigmentation.  He would sometimes ask Mr. Reynolds about his father or events of the world outside the apartment, to which he would respond by taking off his glasses, wiping them with a cloth and returning them to his face before continuing the lesson.  Reynolds said that if he wished Adam could talk to him about anything he wanted, but not to always expect a response.

Reynolds was an adept teacher and his knowledge of the wide subjects taught never was lacking.  Adam was intelligent and would have spent great amounts of time on his studying even if there were the possibility of outside distractions.  His brother received a great deal less time with Reynolds, during which his eyes would often glance to the security camera positioned in the corner of their study.

“It’s not the future planned for you” he said once.

He was eleven when he first was taken on visits outside.  The world beyond his walls was terrifying.  His home he knew and understood every square inch of.  Despite not knowing the names of the people guarding his home, he understood them.  They worked for his father, and did anything he said, within his father’s allowances.  Outside people were different, they had agendas purposes and attitudes that were alien.  And they were all around him. The horror of this would have barely struck him before the fear took control of his body.  Before he began thrashing and biting his legs would fall from under him, or he would slide from a seat, as though his body looked to be at the lowest possible level so the world wouldn’t notice him.  This lack of control, becoming a simple observer to the machinations of his own body at first struck a level of terror way above the origin of his fits.   Soon, however, these moments allowed him a serenity, an escape from the panic, and a moment when he could let go from the rest of the world.

It was decided that Reynolds would accompany him, though any calming effect seemed negligible.  Eventually though the alien became familiar, and Reynolds had a series of breathing and meditative techniques that made the transition smoother than it would have otherwise been.  The first instance when they saw a sign with his father’s name on it, Reynolds remarked “The world knows your father, forty-five percent of everything produced in this country comes from companies owned by him.”

The excursions were made to be regular, and the panic attacks, initially with chemical assistance, became mere whimpering from the back seat.   As time went by his fear died, and his fascination   grew.  Sometimes Adam would just tour around in the city with Reynolds pointing out places of various importance, other times he would be taken to high end shopping centres, restaurants and eventually Universities.  During all these visits he would have Reynolds alongside him, with six of his father’s men, dressed much like the other people around them, pretending to do anything but look at him.

His father and Reynolds sat down opposite him in his private room of the penthouse.

“You have been shown the world outside of this building, I have let this happen with much trepidation as the risk is immense, but I feel with regards to my family I must act using my scruples.  It is only fair to provide you with a choice.  You can follow me and my name, become part of the Thurston legacy.  It is a life of great wealth and leisure and restriction.  You will have enemies.  You will have to take measures to survive.  Measures such as keeping your family in a place that is the closet you can find to impenetrable.  Never staying anywhere more than one night.

And ordering the deaths of men, many of which you have never met.  You will never know their names or anything about them.  Just they are dead and you killed them.  On the other hand, some will be your greatest friends.   Eventually you would become calloused to this. “

Adam sat with his mouth hanging agape, he looked to Reynolds who was matching his gaze, never before looking more solemn, and saying nothing.  His father had never spoken about his work before, his driven wordless exits never had an excuse provided, though his naïveté did not go as far as believing his father to be a good person, it was another thing, however, to hear all his darkest suspicions about the man frankly confirmed by his own lips.  However more unsettling was the sense of his father’s exposure, the impregnable walls around him had been breached.

“Or you can live a life away from this.  Reynolds tells me you have enough skill to be successful in a multitude of fields, money will never be a problem for you.  A doctor, or scientist perhaps.  I’m afraid politics is closed to you, nothing that would invite extensive background checks is safe, but apart from that it would be entirely your choice.  Maybe a career as a street painter even”.

His father‘s lips almost twitched into a grin.

“You would have a freedom many take for granted.  This choice, however, will come with measures also.  You will have to undertake radical cosmetic surgery, it will be months, probably over a year before you fully heal.  It will be painful.

And you will have to leave this family.  You can have no contact with your mother, your sister or me.  It would be too dangerous for all of us.  That is your choice, and you have a week to decide.”

His father stood up nodded at him and then walked out of the room, leaving Reynolds sat in the chair, his stare still fixed on him. “That was hard for him, he thinks you are the only person in the world who don’t suspect him of murder.  You won’t have to think too hard, will you?  Still, wait the week before telling him.”

Thurston’s reach was far, it was rare that his father’s image was associated with legitimacy, but it did happen.  Even as a child, before he’d even ventured outside and saw the crowds thrusting placards into the air, shortly before the violent dispersals.  He’d suspected what the blank screens during the news shows meant.  He would leave and discover his father as the rest of the world knew him.

The dormitory rooms either side and opposite him were staffed by his father’s men, they attended his lectures, always sitting away from him, near each entrance in the room, leading and following him in his daily routine.  This retinue did not go unnoticed by the other students, and they were wary of making any more than the most idle chat with him.  It was halfway into the second year when she was transferred into his class, sitting next to him, pushing the hair behind her ear and then turning to smile at him.  They were married before graduation.  It was a small ceremony, no more than a dozen on her side, and he had only his three guardians, men who he knew only by a fake first name.  One of them was holding a camera pen in his hand and an earpiece.  He approached him after and said “Your father is proud”.

As were most of the truly gifted Biological students, he was soon offered a lucrative job in his father’s own research division.  The man who had the pen camera approached him saying “Your father didn’t plan for this but he approves.  You will be taken care of.”

Visiting the research division, he looked through the circular one-way mirror that was placed in each cell door.  The walls inside were blanched and each one of them sat on the floor, draped in a white smock so that only their head was visible, seeming to be suspended in nothingness.  Each had a convicted distortion carved onto their face, never had he seen people who expressed a single emotion with such conviction.  Sorrow.  Guilt.  Hatred.

His guide spoke. “Turns out there are already cheaper and more practical ways to make a soldier a remorseless machine, but the technology is unique, so we keep it around, just in case.”

As he passed by each porthole, his eyes caught on them like a stray thread on barb wire.

Adam rose through the department quickly, and he was brilliant enough that no-one thought it unusual.  He was bought an estate at the end of an upper class cul-de-sac, the neighbouring houses of course had new inhabitants also.  Like all the decisions made in the marriage, it involved him setting some parameters of what he felt safe, and letting her decide, him being completely incapable himself. It was only two weeks before he decided to build the walls, high enough that only the apex of the fourth floor roof was viewable from the outside. He’d had children in the years between him joining his father’s company and moving into the neighbourhood, and he loved them.  After some time he began to resent the fear that came with that love, every time he imagined one of the myriad of terrible things that could happen to them.  All the same he was a dutiful father, even though he often carried his father’s detachment.

One day the man with the camera pen came to his study to tell him his father had been assassinated.

His body stiffened and his eye’s widened and his mouth dropped a little before closing again.  “What do I do?”

His assigned men already had picked up his children and wife.  His anonymity had saved him.  His brother was killed half the world away and just under 25 minutes before his father, who never learned of the death of his son.  The high level members of the board were wiped out.  The two members who’d survived had gone into hiding, and had cut off all communication with the company.  His father’s enemies would soon have access to everything, for such a clinical and effective swoop they must already have an informant, his existence, and his families were known and soon they would come for him.

Reynolds stood in front of him as he sat in a chair and looked at the ground whilst he told him this.  He’d been standing in that position when the men ushered him into the warehouse.  As Reynolds continued to talk he began to shake.  When the tremors started in his hands he clasped them together, though this did nothing but spread the quaking to his arms below the elbow as his head sunk to being close to between his legs.  As Reynolds finished his summary of the events, everyone in the room could hear the rasping noises arising from him, when one of the men stepped towards him he collapsed to the floor, his movements so violent by this point that as he crashed to the floor he sent the chair slamming into a wall over a dozen feet away.

Adam awoke to find each of the men holding an arm to the ground with both their hands and forcing a leg with their knee, Reynolds was placing a syringe into a bag.  As he opened his eyes and tried to speak he could feel the pressure ease.

“H….Hb…Help.. me”

Reynolds looked at him, Adam’s eyes focusing on the cold hard gaze

“Myself and a few others are all that is left that you can trust from your fathers reign.  We must convince those on the sidelines that we are still strong, before the remaining power we have fades, and we will need a leader with claim.  We will help you help yourself, and if we don’t succeed then we all will die”.

They left him crying with his family, in the hallway one of the men spoke to Reynolds, disdain creeping into his voice. “When the sideliners see him, we’re dead.  Might as well go in now and finish the miserable dog off now.”

Reynolds turned to him. “Hush.  The parameters of a man’s character are defined both by his genetics and the events that occur around him, to break through these will be difficult, but not impossible.  It is our job to aid this change.”

When he returned to the room, Adam immediately shot up from his families embrace and began talking before Reynolds had even shut the door. The tremor in his voice and sickly pallor through his skin couldn’t disguise the resolution that had appeared in his eyes.

“I…. I will do this, I will take my father’s place.  I don’t do it for his empire or for you, but for my family.  The first thing we must do is visit my facility. “

“It would be dangerous, they could be watching it, I hope we do this with good reason.” Reynolds spoke, but as he finished a look of understanding appeared on his face.

“I will go make the preparations, be ready in five minutes.”

He turned to his wife.

“I can be better.  You will all be safer.” She watched him as he turned to Reynolds and walked out the door.

It was thirty six hours later when the board of Thurst Corp convened.  The man who had orchestrated the death of his father was standing at the head of the a table with the remaining committee members  when he entered.  Adam first slowly moved his unblinking eyes across  the room, locking each person with a glare of only a split second but one that gave the impression of an assessment of the utmost scrutiny.  He began talking, explaining that many important figures were still loyal to his father, that he had gained access to all the knowledge his father had used to hold the board in place.  Though the meaning of what he said was understood by everyone in the room no one paid attention to his words, still mesmerised by the basilisk like gaze now fixed on the orchestrator.  It was the sight of a man incapable of fear.  The speech was over swiftly, and in a gesture that appeared as an afterthought he reached into his briefcase and scattered half a dozen envelopes across the table.  The board members found them to contain time stamped photos, each of them less than 6 hours ago, and each of them exhibiting their family members going about their daily routine.

The bodies of the orchestrator, and his two lieutenants were delivered to him before the days end.   As was – the next day – a member of his father’s trusted inner circle, the man who had betrayed him.

Less than a week later he had been placed as the chairman, quickly followed by a small number of executions, those who had been noted to have been eager and fast to have welcomed the attempted usurpers control.  He was never seen except by those few brought to his office, and their words of a man who spoke with a casual intensity spread round the company.  Reynolds was often seen by his side, whispering information, equipping him with the knowledge he needed to rule such a behemoth.

Despite the manner of conduct he exhibited in his father’s chair he remained a dutiful father and husband.  His wife had earlier perceived in him a vulnerability that was now gone, though his tenderness was still clearly visible in picking up and cooing with the children when they fell, compassion there in tending to his wife’s problems adjusting to their new life of secure solitude.  He had a vast library built attached to their home, all the books it contained would have been available on his computer, but the appeal lay in that he could tie in his constant thirst for understanding as much as he could about the mechanics of the world, whilst spending time feeling truly solitary among the tall long aisles.

But it was inevitable that there would be more attacks.  Several attempts at a violent takeover had taken place in under a year. He was seen by many to be untested, lacking yet the vicious reputation his father held, men who would be terrified of speaking ill of him in all but the most private company openly plotted against this upstart.

Reynolds spoke to him.  “I’m afraid more drastic measures are needed.  I know our discussions on this subject have ended the same way, but these attempts on your life will not, someone will be fortunate, and you will not.  And neither will your family.  Threats can remain threats no longer.  You must salt the earth belonging to those who attack you, and show the others what would become of them.”

Adam sighed. “My family….”

He sat in silence for a minute looking at his clasped hands on his lap.

“I can’t be responsible for this as I am.”

Reynolds quickly spoke “When shall I tell the facility you’ll be arriving?”

It was a little under an hour after his visit that they took his family.  It happened a little under fifteen minutes after he had the man coordinating this event killed along with his family, several others had been made similar examples of.  When the men holding his wife and children were unable to contact their employer they panicked, executed them and fled.   Reynolds told him this in the same perfectly enunciated tone as always, whilst watching his face contort as he realised the horror of this world had finally reached over his walls.

He sat weeping in his office, Reynolds coolly watching him for several minutes, before getting up and staggering to the door.  Reynolds understood where he was fleeing to and called men downstairs to make preparations.  Inside the car he gained a moment of composure between the sobs.

“ After each time I come to this place, I feel less and less like I’m in control, as though I’m just watching all this.  Perhaps after this time I’ll be gone.”

Reynolds almost scowled. “I highly doubt it, I’ve seen you gain more and more control over these months, becoming adept and capable to each ugly situation that arises”

If he’d heard Reynolds, he didn’t acknowledge his words, instead his eyes were watching the horizon outside the window, half open, as though waking from a peaceful dream.

“Perhaps I’ll exist, but I won’t know it, like some base insect.  All instinct and no thought.”

The calm on his face remained for just under a minute, before tensing into creases and the sobs resumed.

It was several years before he ever returned.  His being had become bound together with the company’s, to take one from the other would be to deny both their existences.  They had both grown in stature, enemies destroyed, scattered and absorbed, acts born not from vindictiveness but simple hungry ambition.  He lived in the central building, his penthouse quarters placed above his office.  Any time not spent in the company he spent reading, his eyes flickering and darting from one info page to the next. His interest in people outside of work had been left behind during his last visit.  Reynolds noted little expression in his face except a small smile of satisfaction that briefly crept in on the rare occasion he learnt of something he was not already aware of.

However, one evening Reynolds detected something else in the man, a furrowed brow that hinted at distraction, and frustration.  That evening Reynolds called the facility to check there had been no unusual incidents or accidents, particularly involving the residents.  He thought perhaps he would be less troubled if the answer had been yes.

A week later the advisor received a call to tell him that he had visited the facility, he’d, of course, been unimpeded by any of the staff, some of whom watched him through the monitors as he stopped outside each of the rooms, staring through each of the portholes for several minutes.  He was making his way there when he received the call.

“…..Reynolds”

“What are you doing?”

“I have them all here in front of me.”  The collected, calm tone that had been constant since his last visit had raised a pitch in excitement.

“I don’t think that is a good idea, sir.  Where are the staff?”

“They didn’t want to let me get close to them, so I locked them all in a room, I forget when it stopped surprising me what I could convince people to do with my name and a gun.”

“Sir, wait there for me…”

“I’m not going anywhere, and neither are they.  Now, listen I see these looks on their faces and I don’t even know which one of them has which part of me.  I’ve forgotten what these things feel like, when I try to remember what it was like when my family died, or when they were alive for that matter, I can only make out the barest shapes of it.”

“Sir, please…”

“Hmm, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say that before.  You know I have a few things left rattling inside me.  Well Reynolds, I finally think ambition and self-preservation have been overcome by my curiosity.  Now I’m going to put these poor creatures out of my misery!”

The conversation was cut off, just before the gunshots began.