"Your question about how I got this way can be summed up in three words.
Vincent Lawrence Maxwell.
As always, when one of us turned eighteen, the month before Scythe Corps recruitment became hell.
This time her final child was old enough to join, so he killed off our mother because she served her purpose as an [incubator].
However, the predictable events that followed her death were so brazen and ruthless that the loving, caring, passive boy you once knew died forever.
It started at the funeral, set up with surreal speed by Maxwell. The invitations to our relatives, the funeral processions, and the car were set up in a few days.
I stood at the funeral with a perfectly tailored suit sent to me without anyone taking my measurements.
That part alone made me feel sick."
——
Ryker Snow watched his mother's coffin get lowered into the earth in a state of disbelief.
Last week she took him to lunch at a small cafe in Royal Heights and spent three hours letting him roam an antique bookshop.
Ryker forgot all about his life as he explored the literary wonderland, lost in a world of fascination. So did his mom, who watched him at a table with a warm smile on her face.
That was last week. This week she was being laid to rest at a funeral arranged by someone he had never directly met.
Blink.
"Ryker. Ryker… "
Ryker snapped out of his mental labyrinth when he heard his name.
He blinked twice and stared at the burial sight. The coffin was already laid to rest and covered from the world.
"Yes?" Ryker asked softly.
"The funeral is over, son." The man said, "I know you want to stay, but your driver is waiting. You don't want to disrespect the generosity of Mr. Maxwell."
Thu-dump.
The teens heart beat uncharacterististically when he heard that name. However, he nodded quietly and complied as usual.
Blink.
"We have arrived, Mr. Snow." A driver announced after opening the shuttle's door.
"Please send my regards to Mr. Maxwell when you speak next." The driver requested, "I know this is a trying time for you both."
Thu-dump.
Ryker's heart pounded in reaction to the man's name again, but he nodded passively and walked to the gate.
Above the code lock were three words. Vincent Lawrence Maxwell.
Thu-dump!
His heart thumped faster when he read the words in print. It reminded him of seeing the name written on the documents his siblings signed before they got hauled away to Lexicon.
Blink.
Ryker found himself in the house, looking down at the ground.
There was two letters and a manila envelope.
The first letter had the words "Mason Randall Snow" on the return address, above an address in Lexion.
Due to Scythe Safety Act, he hadn't heard from his brother in two years, so he stared at it in disbelief.
Blink.
At some point, Ryker had opened the letter and was looking at the letters blankly. He snapped out of his haze and read.
"Dear brother,
I heard about mom and wish I was there right now. It's a trying time, and Keira and I have kept close. We wish we could do the same with you.
Life here is busy, and the monster hunting is adrenaline rich, so we've been able to keep our minds off things.
I'm grateful I don't have to worry about living expenses or to cook food because I don't think I'd have the energy once my hunts are done.
…
I love you, brother. Mason Randall Snow."
Ryker read the entire letter multiple times to comprehend it. He kept spacing out and had to restart.
Once he finished, he stared at the letters blankly until they blurred into hieroglyphs.
Blink.
"Hello, son. I'm here on behalf of Mr. Maxwell to inform you that you can live here rent-free for seven weeks in light of the tragic circumstances." Ryker's property manager said.
Tha-dump!
Ryker didn't know when the man showed up, but Maxwell's name brought him back to reality.
His heart beat harder than it ever had before, making him uncomfortable and confused.
"After the 26th of April, Mr. Maxwell will offer you the same generous rent your mother paid out of love for her and respect for you and your siblings.
He sends his regards and offers you work and board in Lexicon if you ever need a place to stay."
Tha-dump! Tha-dump!
The teen's heart pounded again, this time more than once. While it was uncomfortable, it felt natural and expressive. So he embraced the feeling instead of letting it slip away.
Blink.
"Um, sir? Sir… are you still listening?"
Ryker snapped into focus when a well-groomed man in a suit addressed him.
"Yes, I'm still listening." He confirmed.
"Good. As I was saying, we can't transfer ownership of your mother's bank account until the threat has been cleared and the paperwork goes through the finance ministry." The man explained.
"It's for your protection. Another hacking attempt could steal the funds forever. Luckily, the famous Scythe Mr. Vincent Maxwell has a team expediting the paperwork."
Thu-dump! Thu-dump! Thu-dump! Thu-dump!
Ryker snapped into focus when he heard the man's name. His heart pounded like a war drum, and his mind became clear.
"How long?" He asked with subtle aggression in his voice.
"It should take around two months, Mr. Snow. Please understand that you were targeted by an elite, infamous organization, which shocks all of us." The man said remorsefully.
"The account isn't worth an attack at this scale, so we can only assume it's because you live at Mr. Maxwell's property."
Thu-dump! Thu-dump! Thu-dump! Thu-dump! Thu-dump! Thu-dump!
The teen walked out the door without nodding or saying a word. For the first time in his life, he openly showed his discontent.
—
"Maxwell's drivers took me to the home he rented to mother after luring her away from our grandparents to live rent free.
When I went inside, the fated Scythe Corps recruitment package awaited me. Only this time, I didn't have anywhere to go, had no money, couldn't work, and Maxwell froze mother's bank account.
But none of those things surprised me. What made me snap was the registration process."
—
Across the street from the bank was a park with a gazebo. Ryker sat under it to shelter the Manila envelope in his hand from the rain.
He opened it.
"The honorable Mr. Vincent Lawrence Maxwell has given you a personal recommendation for the Scythe corps.
The registration will begin on April 25th—"
THU-DUMP! THU-DUMP!
Ryker shook in disbelief. He would get evicted on the 26th without rent, and registration was on the 25th. His mother's bank account was frozen, and he couldn't legally work in Milton City.
It was obvious that Maxwell…
That Maxwell…
That Maxwell KILLED his Mother, trapped him, and declared it on the day of his mother's FUNERAL!
THU-DUMP! THU-DUMP! THU-DUMP!
After years of his mother sacrificing her life to work MERCILESS hours, breaking her body, and straining her Mental Health to keep him from Lexicon and VINCENT MAXWELL, Maxwell finally Won!
Ryker finally accepted that; he had no choice!
The man was willing to murder his mother to get him to Lexicon. If Ryker refused, Maxwell might hurt his siblings next! God knows he didn't have limitations or moral restraints!
Ryker tore open the envelope and grabbed the black sticker on the inside. Holding in his hands, he unpeeled the back, which glistened red when the light hit it.
Red.
Despite his eidetic memory, he didn't notice that the sticker's backside was different from his brother or sisters.
Ryker couldn't care less about the details. He promised his mom he'd never put the godforsaken sticker on, but there he was, doing it on the day of her funeral.
THU-DUMP! THU-DUMP! THU-DUMP! THU-DUMP!
The madness swirling in his eyes was burning holes in everything he looked at.
—
Welcome to Lexicon's Identification and Communication Services!
Would you like to pre-register for the Earthian Scythe Corps Divison?
[Yes/No]
—
"Yes." He growled.
The interface popped up with form boxes, but it auto-filled, showcasing it was only a formality. Maxwell had already filled in the information [incorrectly] for him.
Every inconsistency made him laugh, especially the cruelest of all.
Mother: Reina Roberts.
"I can't believe you denied me the right to a mother on the day of her funeral ." Ryker chuckled in disbelief.
"Because you needed to cover you tracks from MURDERING HER!"
Ryker yelled for the first time in his life. It's scratched his throat, making it burn in the cold spring air of Milton City.
—
Congratulations! You have registered for the Scythe Corps!
-
Congratulations! You have been automatically admitted due to a top-level recommendation from the honorable Scythe Vincent Lawrence Maxwell!
-
Congratulations! You are officially a Scythe Corps Member.
May you protect humanity and interstellar trade between worlds!
——
"He registered me with a false mother's name on the day of her funeral. That made the passive boy you knew to snap with rage for the first time.
You asked what happened to the brother who let weak bullies beat him up despite being a national fighting champion.
That day, three scumbags decided to jump me for being rich and happy because I was wearing the suit Maxwell gave me for our mother's funeral.
Everyone always told me I needed to fight back when bullies beat me up. Well, that day, I finally decided to fight back."