PERFECTION: Brotherhood

Chapter 2: This Is Where You Start

As the sun woke up, so did Markov. He looked around but couldn't find his grandpa. Usually, they'd start the day together, but today was different. The room felt empty without him.

Confused, Markov searched for any sign of his grandpa. The usual sounds of morning were there, but the old man was nowhere to be seen. The quiet room made him wonder where his grandpa could be.

Slowly, it hit him – his grandpa wasn't around. A worry filled the room as Markov tried to figure out where his grandpa went so early in the morning.

Markov stepped outside, hoping to find his grandpa, but the old man was nowhere in sight. The usual places they would frequent together seemed strangely vacant, adding to the growing sense of unease. Markov scanned the surroundings, calling out for his grandpa, but the only response was the echo of his own voice in the quiet morning air. The worry deepened as uncertainty hung in the atmosphere, leaving Markov with an unsettling feeling of being alone in the search for his missing grandfather.

"He wouldn't ever leave this place" - Wondered Markov

Markov patiently waited throughout the day until the sun began to dip below the horizon. As evening settled in, a sudden knock echoed through the quiet house. Markov hurriedly made his way to the doorstep, his anticipation evident in his voice as he asked, "Hello?"

A weary voice responded, "It's your grandpa, open the door."

With a mix of relief and curiosity, Markov opened the door to find his old man standing there, visibly exhausted and frustrated. 

"Why are you so frustrated?" asked Markov

"They are here, RUN MARKOV" shouted the old man

"Who? OLD MAN SPILL IT OUT FAST, STOP PANTING!"

"The Russians are here- Run away immediately. USE THE BACK DOOR!"

Without delving into further questions, Markov, with a perplexed mind, swiftly left the premises. As he sprinted through the forest, a mental map of the entire area flashed in his mind, a result of having memorized every nook and cranny. Memories, he believed, don't deceive.

Glancing back, Markov could only discern the faint glow of distant lights. The only audible sounds were the echoing barks of distant dogs. The enigma surrounding his grandfather's strange return and the eerie atmosphere of the forest propelled Markov forward, relying on his recollections to guide him through the shadows of uncertainty.

As Markov continued running, his breaths grew shallow, and just as exhaustion threatened to overtake him, he stumbled upon a city road. Desperate for assistance, he scanned for passing cars. Fortunately, a vehicle approached, and he waved it down.

Approaching the car, Markov quickly identified himself as a lost child to the driver. His plea for help echoed in the headlights, and with a stroke of luck, the driver agreed to let him in. As Markov settled into the car, the fleeting sense of safety mingled with the mysteries that lingered behind in the forest.

"How old are you, kid" asked the Driver

"15" 

"What were you doing here all alone?"

"I can't exactly remember" - Markov bluffed 

"You do realize that this road is perilous, right? Like, you ain't making out in one piece if you are out here at this time. There are traffickers all around"

Markov looked around the pit, dodging the driver's big talk

"How are you so confident about my innocence? I could be a trafficker after all" - The driver asserted

"Your locket says otherwise. You have a daughter, you wouldn't dare to commit such a vulgar deed. Interestingly, you are a journalist." - Markov deduced 

"How so?" - The Driver asked for an explanation.

"You hit the desk before coming here. The marks on your forearms say it. Also, you have ink smudges on your wrist. Your car reeks of oil? Maybe Newspaper? Journalist, I conclude"

The driver is impressed by such an accurate deduction, asserts

"Wow! You are really smart, kiddo."

"I have a question though, is this your car?"

"Of course?"

"So you are into politics."

"How'd you-"

Seated in the car, Markov avoided the driver's questions, choosing instead to gaze out of the window. The night sky unfolded above him, adorned with a tapestry of stars. Lost in the celestial display. 

Startled by the sudden interruption, the driver asked, "Where do you live?" Markov, still gazing at the stars, hesitated for a moment before quietly responding, "I'm not sure... I just need to get away for now."

The driver inquired with a mix of concern and curiosity, "Get away? From what?" Markov, with a heavy sigh, finally turned his gaze from the stars to meet the driver's eyes. In a soft voice, he replied, "From everything that doesn't make sense anymore. Sometimes, you need to escape."

The driver observed, "You really are lost... Do you need a place to stay? I could offer." Markov, grappling with the uncertainty of his circumstances, felt a flicker of gratitude. With a nod, he quietly accepted the offer, recognizing that, at least for the moment, this stranger's kindness might provide a temporary refuge from the mysteries he sought to leave behind.

The driver, offering a sense of hospitality, took Markov to his house. "You can call me Luther, by the way," he mentioned, breaking the ice with a warm introduction. Markov, too introduced himself.

As they entered the dimly lit house, Mr. Luther flicked on the lights, revealing the warmth of the interior. "My daughter must've gone to sleep," he remarked, guiding Markov through the unfamiliar space. Soon, Markov found himself in a spare room, a haven for the night within the shelter of Luther's home.

Sitting on the bed in the unfamiliar room, Markov allowed his mind to wander through the corridors of memory. Images of moments shared with the old man flashed before his eyes, each recollection carrying the weight of emotions. The room, though new, seemed to echo with the echoes of the past, grounding Markov in the familiarity of the bond he had left behind

"Markos, do you like this place?"- Markov as he looks to his right.

"They almost caught us, the Russians. Do you fear them?"

"Very brave of you. IDR has nothing on us! Those pesky bastards, they took everything from us."