Fan Fiction ❯ A Kiss In Time ❯ Waking to a New World ( Chapter 2 )

[ P - Pre-Teen ]

Chapter Two


"Chang." The word was followed with a hard slap to his face. "Time to wake up."

The vision of the next slap fused with the act and Chang caught the offending hand before it connected. Without even opening his eyes, he slid his hand down the offending hand and adeptly dislocated the little finger. Young male howls filled the room. From the echoes, Chang judged the room to be hospital room sized, closed, lots of glass.

A faintly familiar voice, sarcastic and arrogant, "I think Mr. Chang is awake."

Chang opened his eyes, took in the rest of the details of the room. He was naked, but not restrained. The wound in his shoulder was healed, but still sore. That would mean that he'd been here, weeks or they'd used some kind of magic. Chang was quite tired of magic. He sat up, holding the light blue sheet to his chest. Naked in front of these people was a very unacceptable option.

There were three men standing around him. One of them was a younger man, holding his hand which was already swelling, tears running down his face. "Who told him to slap me," Chang asked, staring at the Chinese looking man.

The man shrugged. "Welcome back to the living, Esteemed Ancestor."

Chang swung his legs over the edge of the bed, holding the sheet around himself. "What year is it? Where is Saban?"

"The year is 2315," the third man said, rising from his chair. Until he spoke, Chang had almost marked him off as a flunky. He wore baggy clothes of an unfamiliar material. His hair was shaggy, chopped like he'd done it himself, but when he spoke, the other two relinquished space to him. His voice wasn't even what Chang would have considered authoritarian. The respect in the other two though, the younger one had even stopped crying finally, meant there must be more to the man than appeared on the surface. "Your son is in a safe location."

"I see," Chang said, understanding the man now to be his enemy. They were four hundred years in the future and Chang didn't doubt for a moment, wouldn't until he found something analogous. "What happened in the Tower?"

"We were hoping that you might have some answers for that," the man said, motioning to the smart mouthed Chinese. "Take the little fool out, bring back clothing for Mr. Chang."

A coffee would also have been nice, but Chang wasn't of a mind to eat anything from the hands of these people. "How long have I been here," he asked, fingers running the bullet wound in his shoulder. There was a patch of pink flesh over it now, soft as a new born's.

"Six hours." The man tilted his head, smiled. Chang thought he looked like a fool. "We healed your shoulder. Do you like?"

"Thank you. Who are you?" Chang flexed his shoulder, made a fist and stretched. Six hours, that was amazing. When Saban had fallen into the black hole that Gloria's spell had created, Chang had gone in after him. In retrospect, it had, perhaps, not been one of the wisest things he'd ever done. It really didn't matter that they were 400 years in the future though. The only family or tie at all that Chang had was to his adopted son.

"I am William Roslie, chairman of the Reformation Party, and if you will allow your new employer. I'm sure that our compensation package will suit you." The man smiled again.

Chang's eyes narrowed. He wondered if any of his old accounts had managed to survive through four centuries. He doubted it. He did not like this man, but liking an employer had never been the first consideration. He wasn't even sure what terms would be appropriate to ask for now, if they even had bank accounts. He'd need identification, money of some kind, and an understanding of this world. "What are your terms and what services do you feel you require?"

The chill in the man's eyes was like frozen venom. "Let us discuss such things over lunch. If we come to agreeable terms, perhaps we can see that Saban is restored to your custody by this evening."

The urge to kill the man settled into the back of Chang's mind. Employer or not, one did not oppose Bao-Sheng Chang over his son or team mates. "I'm sure we'll find satisfying terms," Chang said, face passive.

"James should be back with your clothes. There is a shower in the bathroom. Do you require anything else?"

There were a hundred things Chang required, but a shower and a new suit would suffice for the moment. "What country are we in?"

"This was Chicago. Now it is privately held and participates in the Confederate Senate as The Roslie Kingdom." Roslie stood up straight for the first time and grinned. "Kings are back in fashion."

"I see," Chang said, regretting he'd ever been impatient with democracy. "And are you a prince or a king?"

"I am king, third in my line, but," he started towards the door. "I'll explain all of that later, after we've decided your position. Do you fancy a title?"

"Your majesty," Chang said, bowing, knowing from experience that the smoldering disgust and violent intent would not show on his face, in his posture. "I have no desire for a title. I am a simple mercenary."

The king gasped slightly, it was a pleased sound though. Four hundred years between Chang's culture and this... Perhaps the man would not really understand how out of period Chang's bow, politeness was. Confusion was almost always an ally.

As soon as the King left, Chang took himself into the bathroom, the sheet wrapped around him like a toga. Four hundred years... That would be like someone popping in from a Shakespeare play. Now that would be 800 years ago, almost a thousand years gone. Chicago, which he'd never liked anyway was a privately held kingdom? Chang rubbed his temples and stared into the mirror.

He'd expect to have gray hair at 429, but his hair was raven black still, not a wrinkle on his face. He knew Saban was alive, because if the boy had died, he would have had a vision about it. The whole chaotic scene in the Tower was a world away now. The screams and smoke, confusion were all beyond even being history. Chang wondered how much this king thought he knew and if the magic that Gloria had surprised them all with had been known to anyone outside her circle. He wondered if she'd survived her great magic and what the hell she'd been trying to do.

He dropped the towel and started the water. Maybe they'd set the bathroom up just for him, or maybe technology had failed to improve bathroom fixtures. Either way, he found himself in a nice shower. The soap was pleasant, scented like black tea though, which was odd. He'd just gotten some of the gel soap into his short black hair when the vision grabbed him.

He held a red headed man in his arms, small, young maybe, yet power. One leg wrapped around his own, rubbing in a suggestive way. Chang realized they were dancing. The shock of this realization nearly knocked Chang out of the vision. The him in the vision held this man closer, not even trying to hide the excitement he felt for him. The man had the most beautiful blue/violet eyes. A long red braid brushed against his arm and the man smiled at him, lips slightly parted. He couldn't affect the vision, but he wanted to run his fingers over those lips, see if they were as soft as they looked.

"Hold me," the man whispered, "The information is coming through."

That was all warning he got before the man's body went limp against him. In-the-vision-Chang's heart folded and screamed as he held the man to him. The man's head tilted back and Chang felt his fingers rising to check for a pulse. The vision started to fade though as desperate fingers searched for a carotid pulse. Soft pulseless skin was all his searching fingers found before the vision ended and left Chang on his knees, cold water running over his back. For the first time in his memory, hot tears ran down his face, over a man he hadn't even met yet.