Kai stumbles slightly as he crosses the line.
He'd done it. He'd won. It was a race and he was first. No one would ever beat him at this. This had just become the past and in that, he was infinite.
He falls to his knees, clutching his chest and grinning hollowly.

Being released from the institution was the word mistake they'd ever made. He'd completed the programme, yes. Finished training, yes. Done everything they asked, even after that.
But somewhere along the way, he must've become useless. His very presence no longer necessary and thus not being worth the meals he was given.

He sits on top of a wall he'd wasted some time looking around, making sure he could see more than he would be seen himself. He has a single bag with almost no significant possessions in it. Only one he cares about but it doesn't even matter anymore.
It's a small photo of himself, his parents and his grandfather. Voltaire looks the same as ever, still with a cold smirk that could be mistaken for enjoyment. Kai's father is smiling broadly, almost grinning and proudly holding Kai in his arms. He's got the same skin tone although his hair is black and white, the underside black to the top white.
Kai's mother has a gentle, pretty smile of her face, her petite frame leaning against her partner lovingly with some light blue hair obscuring one of her eyes.
Not one for narcissism, it's not particularly practical, but it's his own expression that fascinates him. When he first looked at it, he was a laughing child. He could almost see the happiness with the arms reaching around him, wanting to experience the world.
However, over time and after almost memorising the photo, he begins to think maybe he was crying. He looks as if he could be trying to push people around him further away and just feel secure in his father's arms.
Voltaire told him it was three weeks after this that his parents died. He took the news with the same practicality that was ground into him from his first day alone with his grandfather.
It's on this wall, studying this photograph that he decides that if he's being truly practical, people can lie to him. People can be deceitful and they can hurt him. Voltaire taught him those basics but it's now it sinks in.
If anyone can do it, so can Voltaire. And if Voltaire can lie, then what's true?
The realisation is this: He knows nothing about the world or what's in it.
This fact doesn't bother him as much as the fact he may not even know how his parents died. He was told they were murdered brutally. He himself can remember only flashes and honestly divulged everything he could remember.
He was told they were brutally murdered for trying to find out too much about some secret organisation that Voltaire wouldn't discuss. He had nothing to do with it, apparently.
As Kai pushes himself off the wall, landing gracefully before moving forward, towards the train station, he smirks.
Voltaire is currently his only suspect. In all the investigation tactics he was taught, you never go to the suspect first. You go to the crime scene to find something to pin on the suspect first. Then you go accuse them.

The house is almost like he remembers, although obviously more derelict and neglected over time. The garden has grown out and what were neat rows of flowers, small hedges and plants has become a jungle, a maze to the door.
He pushes open the gate with a hand, walking up the path as if he hasn't left the house at all. He feels something scratch his cheek but he just ignores it. He knows no one is watching but he still doesn't react.
Voltaire taught him that. Even when you feel safe, you're not. Even when you feel alone, you're not.
Being on edge saves lives. How can you be surprised if you always suspect everything?
How can you be caught off guard if you always suspect everyone?

Up the hall. To the stairs. It's almost as if he's just going up to his room. His mind prints what he knows is missing, touching up details, almost making him feel slightly happy for a moment before finding control.
He goes up the stairs, counting them like he used to, only silently. The stair that used to creak now is broken completely, jutting out dangerously.
Two doors to his left, three to his right.
The two doors were his bedroom and playroom. The three doors were the office/library, opposite which is the large bathroom and at the end of the hall, his parents bedroom.
The scene of the crime.

Kai sucks in a breath slightly as he's shocked by how upsetting this is. He pulls his long, black coat around him more, then looking down at his appearance.
He's changed a lot. But would his parents still love him? A boy dressed all in grey and black. Practical over emotional. A winner but with no sense of victory. In complete control but with no idea what of. An objective human; a paradox in existance.
He shoves his hair back quickly, as if this will bring some authority back to him. He coughs, breaking the constant silence and then looking behind him sharply.
Their was a noise when he coughed. It was strange, almost unnoticable but he could feel it.

"Hey...Michael?" a deep voice asks with a big smirk clear.
"Shut up," Michael's voice replies quickly.
"But Michael, we get to-" the deep voice continues excitedly.
"Steven. Shut Up!" Michael snaps, a thumping sound coming shortly after.
"Why did you hit me! Dickhead," Steven grumbles, "I just wanted to talk about-"
"Don't say it-" Michael tries to cut him off.
"If he comes here, we're to kill him," Steven grins proudly.
"What if he's already here numb-nuts?He's been trained to get in past us. And we just pissed off for food! It's more likely!" Michael's voice is furious, "Why not just start jumping around loudly so if he isn't, he won't come in? Or! Oh! I know! We could just put up a big whiteboard explaining everything and let people come in, like a guided tour. Then take them to Voltaire's home, show them around there a bit-"
"Oh kay," Steven rolls his eyes, seeing Michael won't stop the list, "I was wrong. But you were being louder than me there," he adds childishly before letting the silence fall.
There's another thumping sound, Steven making a little noise and then absolute silence falls again.

Kai's sure they must be able to hear his breathing. He's sure they'll just know where he is and before he can react, they'll shoot him down as ruthlessly as he would in their position.
But that's stupid. It's impractical right now. He has to think about what he needs.
He needs to find somewhere safe.
The mention of food made him realise he hasn't eaten.
He needs food.
He needs to know why Michael and Steven are here for Voltaire.
He needs to know why they knew he was coming here.
He needs far too much. He needs to look after his immediate health right now. So that means leaving without being found and finding somewhere to stay, food, water. Basics.
Deal with the basics, then build.
This would work a lot better if he didn't just hear a gun click behind him.