WINDSOR, ENGLAND - 1991
Dean awoke with a jump, his lungs burning for air. He lay still, disoriented by his surroundings. The room was dark, it was raining heavily during this apparent night. He sat up slowly, his head pounding, and took in the unfamiliar setting. The room was tastefully decorated.
Panic gripped him as he looked around. This was not where he was supposed to be. He stumbled out of bed, catching sight of himself in a large mirror. The reflection that stared back was that of a young boy, perhaps eleven years old, with brownish/blond hair and striking blue eyes. Dean's heart raced. This was not his face.
A wave of pain crashed over him, and Dean fell to his knees, clutching his head. Memories flooded his mind, a torrent of images and sensations that overwhelmed his senses. He saw a childhood in America, the faces of parents who had died in a car crash, and the cold, distant grandparents who had taken him in. The name Vincent Van Doren echoed in his mind, solidifying his new identity.
Dean now Vincent gasped as the memories continued to pour in, each one sharper and more vivid than the last. He saw his new life unfold: the loneliness, the strict upbringing, and the pressures of living up to his grandparents' high expectations. The pain was excruciating, a relentless assault that left him breathless and he passed out.
When the memories finally subsided it was morning, Vincent woke up on the floor, exhausted and confused. The duality of his existence was a bewildering puzzle. He was Dean Rhodes, the assassin, but he was also Vincent Van Doren, a young boy with a sad past.
Vincent struggled to his feet, his body weak but his mind racing. He needed to understand this new reality, to piece together what had happened. The skills and instincts of an assassin were still sharp in his mind, but he was now in the untrained body of a child.
The house was quiet as Vincent made his way downstairs. The grandeur of the mansion was imposing, with high ceilings and elegant furnishings. He found his grandparents in the dining room, seated at a long table set for breakfast. They looked up as he entered, their expressions cold and expectant.
"Good morning, Vincent," his grandmother Mary said, her tone clipped and formal.
"Good morning," Vincent replied, masking his inner turmoil.
"Sit down and eat," his grandfather Mikael added, gesturing to a place set for him.
Vincent took his seat, observing his grandparents with a critical eye. They were exactly as the memories depicted: distant and demanding. He ate in silence, using the time to think. He needed to navigate this new world carefully, but it was also a new chance.
Days turned into weeks as Vincent adapted to his new life. He spent hours in his room, reading and practicing the skills he remembered from his past life. The memories of his death were vivid, he could only assume that his contractors had already planned to eliminate him after the job was done and that's why someone was in the backseat of his car, "ha unlucky them, i missed", i. But instead of wallowing on the past, Vincent focused on honing his abilities.
He discovered that his new body had its own strengths. His young mind was sharp and adaptable, capable of learning quickly. Vincent took advantage of this, delving into books on various subjects, from history to science, and of course knowing the future computers and programming absorbing knowledge with ease.
He was definitely making sure to ask his grandparents to invest in some tech companies for him.
The memories of his past life as Dean Rhodes were a double-edged sword. They provided him with skills and knowledge, but they also came with the weight of his previous actions. Vincent knew he needed to be cautious, to blend in and avoid drawing too much attention.
One evening, Vincent sat by the window, looking out at the sprawling estate. The events that had led him here were still a mystery, but he was determined to uncover the truth. He needed to understand the forces at play and how he could use them to his advantage.
As he contemplated his new life, Vincent felt a sense of resolve. He was no longer just Dean Rhodes, the assassin. He was Vincent Van Doren, a young boy with a second chance. This new existence was filled with opportunities and challenges, and he intended to make the most of it.
Vincent turned away from the window, his mind focused on the future. There was much to learn and many obstacles to overcome. But with his skills and determination, he was ready to face whatever lay ahead.