There's nothing like a little mystery and intrigue to get one's mind off of things. Allow me to elaborate. The stories behind each and every member of my family are fairly well known. From the exploits and adventures of my father, to the origins of Lila and The Brothers Blackwater, the birth of Azrael's grandchildren and finally the return of my aunt Alara, the records and accounts are out there, a simple search is all that it takes to grant you the knowledge that you seek. You merely must look for it, in order to acquire the information. Everyone has a history, a past that's available to the public. Some piece of evidence that exists and grants the privilege of insight. Varying in extensiveness and length, of course, we all have something credited to our names. Everyone except my eldest sibling - Oliver Last, otherwise known as Mr. Luck.





The true first born offspring of Azrael Erebus. He's somewhat of an enigma, you see. Right down to his very core. That's mostly due to the fact that he was sired one year, before Mr. Satellite climbed up from the depths of the sewers and joined the XWF. Back when my father rarely appeared above ground, didn't speak, not even with the aid of a robot and made it a strict priority to keep his identity a secret. Oh sure, there are some things out there, that feature a glimpse into Oliver's backstory but nothing that really conveys his true nature or origin. Even his abilities are somewhat obscure and difficult to fully grasp. All that's known is that he's the luckiest man on the planet.


What kind of power is that though? Luck? Always able to get out of a situation, unscathed, no matter what the circumstances or risks entailed. He could call the shots and guess the outcome of things; that should be impossible to foretell, a seemingly limitless amount of times. Making him an excellent gambler as well, no matter what the stakes or odds were... he couldn't lose, ever. That was Mr. Luck's powers, to the best of my understanding.


He also didn't carry himself in the same manner as myself or my other siblings. Oliver is a bit of an odd duck and a loner, marching to the beat of his own drum. Likes to keep to himself and hoard his secrets, of which he has many. Slightly more of an outcast, running scams and dealing with shady crowds, with ease I might add. It always felt like he was up to something. No good.


One could never truly know if they were getting a full story with him or if he was just telling them what they wanted to hear. All the while rocking a pair of headphones, appearing to be detached from the world around him cause he was usually high. More often than not anyway. Drug of choice... what do ya got? He floated through life, a jack of all trades, that held multiple jobs around the city. Somehow. Quills and Ink, the book store. Phat Beatz, the local used record shop. King's Tavern. He even had his own blog on the internet, that he used to voice his opinion about life, the universe and everything. So you'd think he'd be an open book, an easy conundrum to crack but he wasn't.


Not even Azrael had the full story. The only thing my father knew was that Oliver's mother, Nora Last used to work in a coffee shop. On one faithful night my dad thwarted a robbery and after that, he started consistently checking up on her. She confronted him and called him out on it and a sort of friendship was formed. Which was somewhat peculiar because he didn't ever speak. Not a word. Still one thing led to another and they wound up consummating their relationship, intimately. Once again, that was an exceptional occurrence and an interesting feat to surmount, considering the fact that he never uttered a single word. Then she disappeared, skipped town and Azrael never seen her again.


Turns out that occurred cause he knocked her up but that shouldn't have been able to happen. The only reason Raph, Ezra and I exist is because of a freak, otherworldly lightening storm, that made the impossible, possible. While Lila's existence came to be cause her mother Viola, used a magical fertility stone in a desperate attempt to gain some control in the relationship with Azrael. But nothing out of the ordinary occurred on the evening that Oliver was conceived. Admittedly that precise date is hard to pinpoint but a broad spectrum analysis of the time that Azrael knew Nora, revealed nothing rare or abnormal happening. No bizarre, irregular weather and I'm willing to bet Nora didn't obtain a special fertility stone either. So Oliver, technically, shouldn't exist. He's an anomaly, a mystifying, unusual creation that can't be explained.


Adding to the unsolved mystery is the fact that Nora Last, picked up and left, practically vanished, without a trace. Why would she do that? What compelled her to flee, without mentioning anything to Azrael about the pregnancy? What did she have to hide? Oliver probably still would be an unknown offspring to this very day, if my brother Ezra didn't do a wide spread search for beings with the gene of E, when Azrael went missing. Since then, he hasn't been that close with us but every now and again, he reaches out or I run into him at one of his random jobs. Occasionally he'll make an appearance at The Citadel and take on a mission, patrolling the streets.


Well, I say it's about time that this case was finally closed, I was going to solve the riddle that was Oliver Last and I intended to do that, by going directly to the source. I'm not sure what compelled me to do this so forcefully, other than the fact that it got my mind off the drama in my life and Zane Norrison's impending revenge. Something that I've been focused on rather strongly these days. Seriously, last night I was walking through my building's parking garage, I heard someone slam their car door and nearly jumped out of my skin. It's nerve-racking! Everywhere I go, I expect him to pop out and attack! Which doesn't make any sense cause he said he wasn't going to kill me. Nonetheless, I am on constant edge, always afraid. My panic attacks were back to daily occurrences, it was like I was a child again, walking on egg shells around my mother, waiting and anticipating her wrath. No, this was exactly what I needed to revoke the stress, so I tackled it head on. I was determined to get to the bottom of things, no matter what!


I found Oliver Last, working at Quills and Ink. Sitting behind the counter, engrossed in his laptop, with a two liter of Mountain Dew Pitch Black stationed to his side and his headphones firmly affixed over his ears. Seemingly disconnected to reality and his surroundings. Oliver's eyes never left the computer screen and yet, a smile crossed his face when I approached the counter. A sort of clever grin, subtle but all knowing. Like he knew that I was there. Another oddity that only raised more questions about Mr. Luck.


"Donovan Blackwater. What brings you into the book store?"


On the real, right now. How did he know it was me?!?! He never averted his attention from his laptop. Not once, not even for a second.


"Oh, I was in the neighborhood and I figured that I might stop by, and take you to lunch. Fancied a chat and thought, you provided the perfect source for a conversation. What do you say? Care to get something to eat? My treat. Naturally."


"Random but I'll take the bait. What did you want to talk about?"


"Lets save that for Martin's Diner. I'm practically starved. You get a break don't you? A moment when you can leave this book dungeon and eat?"


My words drew a chuckle from Oliver and he raised his gaze to meet mine.


"Yeah, I get a break. I'm the only one here right now, so I'll have to lock up behind me but that's about it. Then I'm free to do whatever I want. Within reason and certain time restrictions."


"What kind of time restrictions are we talking about here?"


"I can only be absent from my post for about an hour or so. Martin's is across the street though, so that should be enough time, right?"


"Absolutely. Plenty of time."


A brisk walk across the street after Oliver locked up the book store, brought us to Martin's Diner, where I was pleased to see both Elias York and Chase Chambers working. Close friends, the sight of them insured that my meal would be made to my exact specifications, opposed to looking like a crackpot created it. I'm not an extremely hard to please fellow, when it came to food but when I order things a certain way, I expect my requirements to be met. It's not a lot to ask for, especially when you're paying for the service. The duo had yet to disappoint and I didn't believe that they'd fail me today. Once the food was ordered and presented, Oliver and I took a seat at a nearby booth. For those that are curious, I ordered a chicken pita with avocado, fries and a grape Sprite. I can't really consume a lot of caffeine throughout the day, based on the frequency that I smoke cigarettes, the combo isn't really that good for me. Increases the heart rate and anxiety levels. I was already having daily panic attacks, I couldn't risk it. Oliver went with a cheeseburger, fries and a Coke.


"So shoot, what's this all about?"


Oliver asked through a monstrous bite of his burger. To which I replied.


"Nothing in particular, I just figured we haven't chatted in a while and I felt that we should catch up."


Lies.


"Tell me, brother of mine, what's new?"


"Eh, this and that, nothing too crazy or out of the ordinary."


See what I mean, vague as fuck.


"But I'm good, working, writing and taking part in various other activities."


"Care to elaborate?"


He flashed a quick grin and snickered.


"It's probably better, for you, if you don't know all the details of the latter."


Totally knew that he wouldn't share that information.


"Work's good. Productive. As far as Quills and Ink is concerned. We got a bunch of rare novels and books in, that I need to catalog and file. So that's pretty cool, some of the material is centuries old text and we have to store them in the secret stash that we keep behind a locked door and only the die hards go for purchasing. And dad, of course. Uh... and yesterday, I was introduced to this terrible band at the record store. Promise Ring. They're fucking horrendous. Just the worst. This one chick that works there played all four of their albums and I was extremely close to walking out and quitting."


"You wouldn't quit. I'd believe that you would take on a fourth position somewhere, before you'd ever quit a job."


"We can't all be fancy freelance accountants/financial consultants. Some of us have to hustle to earn an income."


"Don't forget that I'm also an amazing athlete, I'm a total badass in the ring."


"Haha! Keep telling yourself that, maybe one day it might be true."


"Damn. Why you gotta talk shit? I'm talented. A true marvel to behold. I'm facing Noah Jackson for the Television title on the next edition of Savage Saturday Night. In the Main Event. Must mean I'm doing something right."


"Noah Jackson. That's the guy that's trying to break the world record of someone saying the word cunt, right?"


"Yep. It would seem that's his prime directive."


"He's cool."


"I'm glad you approve of my opponent."


"Oh my god, Donovan. You know your abilities in the ring are outstanding. I was only busting your balls. No need to get weepy about it. I'm sure Azrael is proud of all that you accomplished and he's happy that you followed in his footsteps."


"Haha! I didn't follow in his footsteps. I'm my own man, I carved my own niche."


"Okay, whatever you say..."


"Keep talking smack. It's your right to be wrong."


"I'll remember that if I'm ever wrong. I'm sure it'll also be a cold day in hell, as well. I wonder if the devil owns a parka?"


"Anyway, speaking of our father, I was curious...did you ever touch base with him and fill in the blanks? Tell him where you were all this time and what you were doing before we contacted you?"


The inquiry produced an eerie and instantaneous silence. Oliver appeared momentarily uncomfortable too and he cleared his throat before releasing a nervous laugh. It almost seemed like I touched a nerve and broke through the protective barrier that was normally, securely in place. Keeping Oliver's world separate from the rest.


"Not really."


Voice barely above a whisper, he shook his head, smiled and shrugged his shoulders.


"Most of that is a mystery, even to me. I have talked to him though and we're working on it."


"What do you mean? You're working on it?"


"When I was growing up my mother was kinda crazy."


"I'm fairly familiar with unbalanced mothers, continue."


"For years she made me see shrinks, said I was mentally unstable and kept me medicated. I guess so I wouldn't question being taught at home, by a revolving door of tutors or notice aging more rapidly than others. Instead, it was like I was living in a haze or a fog, I felt like massive chunks were missing from my life. It didn't make any sense and then one day, I stopped taking the medication and found out why. It was almost as if a veil had been lifted. I went to bed one night and then the next day, I was two years older and a little taller. It doesn't seem like fifteen is that far off from 13 but I could tell the difference."


"That's when I started doing recreational drugs, I had to do something to cope with my brand new reality. Warded off the nervous breakdowns too. The overwhelming fear of what sort of creature that I was cause there's no way I was merely human. Didn't know I was part alien but I knew there was something different about me. The drugs kept me sane and gave me a sense of self-control, in my tipsy topsy, upside down life. Where I was no longer a regular teenage boy and my mom would rather make me think I was nuts, over telling me the truth. Since these were things I willingly took and had the power to take as much or little as I wanted. A habit that increased, little by little, that I paid for by going on the dark web, in order to sell the medications that the doctors prescribed, to people that really needed them but couldn't afford them. They were always something weird, I should have realized there was something off from the start. I mean, at one point, I was prescribed pills for PTSD. PTSD. Why was I being prescribed those pills?"


"Anyhow, that's how I made my income and afforded the stuff I numbed myself with, before I graduated to slinging shit at college campuses and high schools. This didn't give me any answers but at least, I wasn't being manipulated. I had the power. Then my mother found out and realized that I wasn't taking the pills that the doctor was prescribing and she had me institutionalized. I was locked up in a very 'special' brand of psych ward, until I turned twenty three and then I made a deal with the man in charge. Gifted him with the knowledge that he needed, to obtain a vast amount of wealth and in return, he fixed the paperwork and granted me, my freedom. After that, I lived on the streets for awhile, always moving and on the constant go. On the run like a fugitive, hustling everyday to survive."


"Then you guys found me and the rest is history. Still, there's so much from my childhood that I don't remember. I never went back home, never attempted to contact my mother. I don't even know if she's alive or dead and I've made my peace with that cause it's better if she stays a ghost in my past. Azrael has been helping me piece together some stuff but other things, are missing from my mind. Gone. Erased or buried. Repressed. I'm not entirely sure what, all I know is that I don't have access to those memories or if they even existed. I don't know if I'll ever get those pieces to the puzzle back, if they did exist. It's why I work so much and write, why I get high, so I can focus on anything but the possibility that I'll never know. I'm a stranger to myself, for the most part and that's a scary thing to digest."


"Holy crap."


And that's when I understood my brother Oliver, completely. He wasn't purposefully living a life of secrecy, it was his coping mechanism and how he learned to survive. Something that was instilled within him, I suppose. I couldn't believe it, his mother actually made my own seem like a saint. At least she was honest about who my father was and told the truth. She didn't keep me in a drug induced coma. The woman might have been cruel and abusive but she never lied or made me think that I was simply insane. At least I knew who and what I was and I had Raphael and Ezra there the whole way. Oliver had no one but himself, I can't imagine what that could do to someone. It did explain a lot about his personality. Still, it was ironic that he solved his dilemma, with narcotics. Drugs were the very thing that stole most of his life. To resort to taking them on a recreational basis after removing the mental shackles of the prescription ones, seemed strange to me. Then again, I smoked pot regularly, that was my "go to" cure for my panic attacks, so who was I to judge?


"My mother kept Ezra, Raphael and me, locked in an attic. The neighbors called the authorities on her and she was taken away. Then we ran and had to live on the streets. Always looking over our shoulders. We were nothing more than scared kids. Outcasts. Dealing with being part alien, in a world that would never understand and only attempt to study or dissect us. It was a nightmare but we had each other. We weren't alone. What you went through was awful but you're not alone anymore. We are your family and we'll always be here for you. And I promise, that will never change."


I meant that too.

Donovan Blackwater
Former 1x...