Table of Contents
Prologue
Part IChapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Part II
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Prologue
New Haven, Connecticut – 1989
3 Years Later
Part I Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Interlude
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Part II
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
HARD
Limit
By
CHLOE FISCHER
HARD LIMIT
Prologue
New Haven, Connecticut – 1989
It was the first supper Drake Conway had eaten at home in over two months and he smiled lovingly at his wife, wanting to treasure every second of the idyllic moment. Who knew when he would be granted such an opportunity again? He was already taking a major risk being there that night.
No one knew where he was; he had violated protocol to see his family and the consequences of such a blatant disregard for the rules could be devastating.
Drake shoved the dark thoughts from his mind, turning his attention back to Shirley and the boys.
I deserve to be a normal man for one night, he reasoned. I have earned it.
“Darling, these potatoes are melting on my tongue,” Drake announced, and Shirley smiled beguilingly, placing her elbows on the table as she eyed her husband.
“I put in a special ingredient,” she confessed, winking a light blue eye at him. “It’s like I sensed you coming home today and knew I needed to make them extra special.”
Drake grinned, a surreal quality overtaking him as he looked around the mahogany table. It was difficult to reconcile Major Drake Conway, Department of Defence Special Forces with Drake Conway, husband, father and fantasy football player.
They are two completely different people. I don’t even know if they would like one another if they were to meet, Drake thought wryly. He wondered if Bob next door would recognize him in his suit and official standing.
“I no like potatoes!” three-year-old Xavier declared, pushing his fork about the plate in disgust, and the one-year old twins babbled in agreement. They smashed their tiny fists against the plastic trays of their high chairs, sending a spray of mashed vegetables all about the elegant dining room.
Shirley sighed but before she could answer, Ryder interjected.
“I don’t like potatoes,” he corrected his younger brother. Xavier shook his head.
“No,” he insisted. “I no like them!”
Drake grimaced slightly and turned to his middle son.
“Your mother worked very hard on this dinner, Xavier,” he chided. “You should be thanking her, not criticizing her cooking.”
“Drake,” Shirley laughed, rising to take the three-year-old’s plate from him. “He doesn’t know what that word means. Sometimes I think you forget how small they are.”
Drake glanced at Xavier and they exchanged a private smile.
“I don’t know, honey,” he replied, winking at the boy. “I don’t think you give them enough credit sometimes. Children are like sponges.”
Shirley chuckled as she stepped into the kitchen.
“I wish they were like mops,” she joked, disappearing with the dishes. “This house is in a perpetual state of chaos with all the testosterone coursing through it.”
Drake laughed merrily at her assessment.
“I suppose we need to try for a girl then,” he called back to her. “Even out the hormones in here.”
Shirley scoffed but didn’t answer, leaving Drake alone with his boys.
As if he had issued a silent command, all four boys turned their attention on Drake in unison, their fussing forgotten.
The twins, Xander and Aiden stared up at him from their elevated chairs with pale green eyes, an identical pair shining with infant innocence.
Xavier pressed his face into his folded hands, mushing his chubby cheeks as he studied his father inquisitively while Ryder seemed intent on watching Drake closely.
My sons, Drake thought, his heart filled with the proud beat which only a father could understand. I hope you know how much you mean to me. I will always protect you.
As if comprehending his silent tribute, they nodded almost imperceivably and returned to their supper as Shirley re-entered the room.
The bond they shared was beyond that of simply father and sons; it was more powerful, ethereal.
“Dessert!” the lovely redhead announced, placing a cherry pie on the center of the table.
“I no like dessert!” Xavier exclaimed, and his parents laughed.
“Perfect!” Drake declared. “More for us!”
Shirley pulled a knife out and began to cut the pie in pieces and Drake was suddenly overcome with a sense that he had been there before, an eerie sense of déjà vu prickling through him.
No! he thought, his heart beginning to thud dangerously in his chest.
A strange feeling began to emanate through Drake and time slowed as he watched the scene unfolding before him.
Fear gripped his heart and he backed up his chair, rising to his feet as the doorbell rang.
“Who could that be?” Shirley asked, glancing at the grandfather clock in the corner.
Drake opened his mouth to respond, panic sweeping over his body as he reached for the twins, snatching them from their chairs. Instantly, they began to wail in protest as their father kicked over the table.
“Don’t answer it!” he cried out as his wife hurried toward the front door. She turned to stare at him in stunned surprise.
It was too late.
The door flew inward and they filed in, like a swarm of buzzards on a corpse. Their leader smiled coldly at Drake, while raising his weapon and pointing it towards Shirley. The man fired once between his wife’s eyes, ending her scream before it had a chance to start.
Drake had no chance to think, only react, throwing the twins into Ryder’s arms as he scooped Xavier from his chair.
Their wailing filled his ears as he reached into his ankle holster and began firing at the half dozen men dressed only in black.
His bullets did not slow them, and they drew closer as the children took cover beneath the buffet, quaking in fear.
When the first round hit him, Drake’s only thought was that it was his fault. He had brought a plague on his house when he had been warned time and again about the consequences.
His shoulder was on fire, but he did not stop pulling the trigger again and again, hoping to take out at least one of them.
One less of them is one less threat, he told himself as more ammunition riddled his body, but he knew he was outnumbered and outsmarted.
He had lied to his sons.
He could not protect them. He had unwittingly brought danger directly to their doorstep.
Oculus had finally found them.
And the children would never be safe again.
Rockville, Maryland – 4 Years Later
The smash of glass caused Sarah to jump but her adopted twin brothers held her hands tightly, Aiden slipping his hand over her mouth as the voices grew louder and nearer to their hiding spot.
The little girl whimpered, tears streaking her fair face, but wedged between her b
rothers, their support seemed to be anchoring her.
“Shh, Sar, it’s okay,” Aiden told her comfortingly. “Everything is going to be okay.”
It was a refrain he had whispered to her a hundred times over the years, and yet, the words always seemed to make her feel more at ease, despite the lie they both knew it was.
“Where are they!” Charles Van Hoyt screamed, his wife slamming the front door hard as they returned home from the bar, drunk and enraged. Again. “Where are you, you little fuckers?” he bellowed.
Xander squeezed out from his hiding spot under the bed, inching closer to the slightly open bedroom door. “Be careful, Xan. Please be careful,” Aiden warned his twin.
The stomping got closer as the drunk and angry couple started down the hallway, looking for someone small to take their anger out on. It was like this every payday – and sometimes even when it wasn’t payday…or they weren’t drunk. Aiden wondered why the couple had ever taken in the twin boys, and then had one of their own. They obviously didn’t like kids. Except to beat on.
The three kids remained silent, Xander waiting for the right moment to act.
Aiden glanced over at his brother, his blood running cold as he knew that Xander had to have a visual on whoever he was using his power on. It was the one limitation that made Aiden scared for him, because after all, when you could see someone, they could see you too. And that meant sometimes, it was too late to protect himself.
It’s the only way to get us out of here safely, he told himself, stroking Sarah’s blonde curls, hoping his own anxiety wasn’t rubbing off on her.
Xander stood to the side of the door, leaning backwards trying to shield his body. But Charles must have learned to walk more quietly, because out of nowhere, his muscled arm shot through the narrow open space, and grabbed Xander by the shirt, tearing him out into the hallway.
Before he could do his thing, Charles had backhanded the boy hard, throwing his body to the ground. “There you are,” he hissed. “Who left all the fucking lights on in the house?” he demanded. “It’s lit up like a goddamn Christmas tree. You think we’re made of money?”
Just then, his wife came around the corner, teetering on her heels. “Come on, baby. I’m horny,” she purred, barely sparing a glance at the child who was lying on the floor, trying to get his wind back. She turned and headed into her bedroom, probably passing out on the floor before she even made it to her bed.
Charles looked down at the boy, a sneer forming on his face, “You tell the others they better not leave any lights on again, you hear me?” He raised his foot, preparing to deliver a kick to Xander’s middle. Suddenly, he dropped where he stood, falling like a tree and hitting the floor with a loud thud. Unconscious.
“What happened to Daddy?” Sarah whimpered, but Aiden only tightened his grip around her hand as Xander glanced over at them.
“Daddy’s sleeping,” Xander replied shortly, saving Aiden from having to lie again. It was the same answer Xander gave every time it happened, but Sarah always asked.
She was a toddler after all, and full of questions, ones with answers which would ruin her for life if the twins didn’t shield her the best way they knew how.
Even at the tender age of five, Aiden could always depend on his twin to explain away the things which he could not.
No matter what happens, we will always have one another, he vowed.
3 Years Later
The twins eyed one another from across the field, their heads raising simultaneously as they sensed the other staring.
You do it, Aiden called silently.
No, you! His brother replied, glee in his tone.
The soccer ball came flying toward Xander, and Aiden watched as his brother’s face went blank, his eyes glassing over.
He’s gonna do it! Aiden thought, a childish hilarity threatening to overtake him as he watched the scene, trying not to laugh aloud.
The goalie, a bully that had been tormenting Xander at school, seemed to freeze in spot as Xander overtook his body, the ball hurling toward his face.
Aiden watched in awe, his brother’s projecting never quite losing its novelty.
Suddenly, the goalie turned and ran away from the ball, as if he was scared of getting hit, crying as he went. The ball was allowed to fly into the net unchallenged, scoring a goal for the twins’ team.
The bully’s team jeered at him, jumping on the chance to get back at the tormentor who had made many of them cry. The goaltender stopped and turned toward the spectators, his face a mask of confusion as he reclaimed his own body.
Xander chortled, running to clap Aiden on the back and the younger twin struggled to keep his giggles from attracting attention.
“Did you see his face?” he asked, snickering as he glanced at the still dazed goalie. “Maybe he won’t be so quick to make fun of your hair again.”
“Yeah, I hope so,” he said, satisfied. “I’m sick of playing today though. Wanna do something else?”
“We still have half the game to go,” he reminded Xander.
“Well can you do something about it?” Xander whined. “I want to go to the comic book store, and if the game gets canceled, then Mom and Dad won’t be expecting us home…”
He trailed off as the whistle blew, gazing at Aiden with pleading green eyes.
“I hear the new Spiderman is coming out soon,” he continued, and Aiden sighed, deciding what to do.
He was enjoying their weekly soccer game. It gave them an escape from the abuse and fighting at home, but he knew that Xander didn’t like sports nearly as much as he did.
Even as he thought it, he saw the yellowish bruise healing around Xander’s eye, a blow he had taken for Sarah the previous week.
“Please?” Xander asked again, and Aiden stared up at the cloudless afternoon. “I’ll buy you whatever comic you want.”
Aiden didn’t care about graphic novels, but when had he ever said no to his twin.
We played a full game last week, he reminded himself. If Xander wants to go to the comic book store, it will be my way of saying thanks for taking on Dad again.
Aiden sighed and nodded, grinning at the identical face beside him.
“Come on, Van Hoyts!” the coach yelled. “We have a game to play!”
Aiden closed his eyes and inhaled sharply, bringing all the air around deeply into his lungs.
“Not anymore,” Xander chuckled, as Aiden released a whooshing breath.
Without warning, the wind picked up and the sky started to darken. A few minutes after, a hard rain began to pelt down from the imposing clouds and the rumble of thunder could be heard in the distance.
The children began to run, squealing as the water beat against their small frames, jerseys plastering to skin within seconds as the weather turned torrential.
“Those of you who don’t have parents here, get inside the rec center to wait!” the coach yelled, and Aiden watched as the man looked heavenward, his face a mask of confusion.
“Come on,” Xander whispered, pulling his arm impatiently before the coach could notice they were missing.
Laughing, they splashed through the soggy field and ducked out of sight.
“We make a good team,” Xander told him as they made their way toward North Horners Lane.
Aiden smiled.
No matter how bad things got, they would always have one another.
I’m so lucky to have a brother like Xander, he thought. Nothing will ever come between us.
3 Years Later
“Aren’t you ready yet?” Aiden asked, shifting his weight from one foot to another as he stared at his brother lounging in bed, flipping through a new edition of X-Men.
“We’re not going to school today,” he announced, and an uncharacteristic flash of annoyance swept through Aiden.
“Why not?” he asked. “Are you sick?”
He couldn’t imagine a world where they would be so sick that they would want to stay home with their unpredictable mother.
“No,” Xander replied. “I just don’t feel like it.”
Aiden eyed him uncertainly. It didn’t seem like a valid excuse.
“We have to go,” Aiden replied, his eyes scanning the room for his twin’s knapsack. “I have a history project due and if it’s late – “
“It won’t be late if there’s a snow day,” Xander answered smoothly, making no effort to shift his body off the bed.
Aiden gaped at him as he realized what Xander wanted him to do.
“No!” Aiden said firmly. “Not today! I can’t keep doing – “
“Sure you can,” Xander replied, lowering his voice as he gazed over Aiden’s shoulder and into the hallway to ensure they were not being heard. “It’s never stopped you before.”
Aiden peered at his twin, chewing on the insides of his cheeks.
Xander seemed to be asking a lot of him lately, and while Aiden had always been happy to indulge his twin’s whims, it was getting to be too much.
“We’re overusing our abilities,” Aiden muttered, but even as he said it, he knew that Xander rarely used his powers, at least not in any way which Aiden was aware.
It was possible that Xander projected into anyone he pleased, but it was never at Aiden’s request.
He expects me to control the weather at his command. It’s not fair.
“What’s the point of having these abilities if we don’t use them?” his brother retorted. “You don’t see the Flash rationing his powers, do you?”
Aiden pushed aside the unfamiliar bitterness he was feeling and yanked on Xander’s arm.
“We are not superheroes,” Aiden reminded him. “We’re in the fifth grade and we have to get to school.”
Xander grunted.
“You never look at the big picture, do you?” he snapped. “We don’t need school. We can get anything we want if we use our talents the right way.”
“And creating a snow day so you can stick your nose in a comic all day is the right way?” Aiden replied dryly. “I’m not doing it. Not today.”
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