Return of Kira: Part Two-Betrayal

"I know and I am." She went and got another one and came back after a moment. "So while we are we why not talk?"

 

"Okay. What do you want to talk about?" Benedict asked.

 

"Anything. You pick the topic."

 

"I don't know." Benedict said.

 

"Okay...How about your sroty? Like how you got to doing your job today."

 

"Its a long story. You sure you want to hear about it?"

 

"I don't mind. We do have time on our hands for the first time in a while."

 

"Okay. My first taste of the warming embrace of law enforcement wasn’t from the same side that we know me from today. With the typical identity crisis you would normally associate with a pre-teen French-born boy with a whore of a mother growing up on the streets of Italy, I wandered the neighborhoods in search of a release for my pent-up aggression towards the rest of the world. He was emo before there was emo." Benedict said.

 

"Sounds like you had it rough."

 

"Well that what happens when you are born to a woman with loose morals and little sense." Benedict said.

 

"Well...At least you are okay and stuff. I mean somehow you did manage to get into the.." She realized she couldn't say SPK. "This career."

 

"Yeah. Want me to continue the story?

 

"If you want to then go ahead."

 

"Okay. So I often took my anger out on other boys at school. Bounced out of day cares and pre-schools alike, my mother was left with few options as she lost job after job. One day, she received a call from a distant relative informing her that the aunt that had raised her was dying. My mother spent the last of her savings to move us and our minimal belongings to Italy....by boat." Benedict said.

 

"Wow....That's sad."

 

"It was a long trip too. By the time I was in my pre-teen years, I was pretty much a delinquent. A vagabond. A vagrant. And whatever other word you want to use to describe a snot-nosed punk. On one particular fateful day, I had my first brush with the law." Benedict said.

 

"And what was that?" She asked, now transfixed in the story

 

"My mother had failed yet again to put food on the table despite the open-door policy on her bedroom, I nervously approached the market vendors on the streets of Italy. Reaching out my small palms, I started to grab pieces of fruit, vegetables, bread, whatever I could take. Suddenly, a hand clasped my shoulder from behind and turned me around to come face-to-face with a middle-aged police officer by the name of Adamska Sears. The man who changed my life." Benedict said.

 

"What was his name and how did he?"

 

"That is another story for another time." Benedict said.