The Rise of Caspian DiMarco - Misery to Mastery.

Caspian Moore, a 6 ft 5, bearded, muscularly framed and agile man felt a surge of mixed emotions as he walked out of the prison gates.

 

Finally, he was a free man after serving his five-year sentence. A sentence which was filled with covert intentions. 

 

He looked back at the gate of the prison and sighed. In the end, against all the odds that stood against him, he was out. 

 

When his mind roamed backwards and forward, it settled on the prize, the only thing that had been his hope while serving time, and the only thing that was his hope at the moment. "Now let's go get the bag. Twenty Million Dollars!" he said and smiled.

  

He approached a phone booth, eager to reach out to his friend who promised to be there for him once he was out. The number and his address were still in his diary, something he wrote five years ago. 

 

He pressed the number, awaiting a response from the other side only to find that the number was out of existence. 

 

He called his wife's number too, but it was the same response. A sense of longing came upon him wanting to connect with his wife and his child, whose gender and name weren't known, and his friend.

 

Determined not to let this setback dampen his spirits, Caspian hailed a passing cab, which screeched to a halt beside him. He climbed inside and said his address. 

  

As the cab made its way through the bustling city, Caspian stared out the window, flabbergasted by the rapid changes that had occurred in the town in just five short years. 

 

More skyscrapers seemed to have sprouted like beanstalks and they obscured the horizon. The once scanty streets of the evolving town were teeming with people. 

 

Caspian at the moment felt like a time traveller from a bygone era, stepping into a futuristic world.

 

The cab eventually pulled up in front of a modest house, the one Caspian used to call home.

 

His heart raced in anticipation and his mind was filled with thoughts of Layla, his beloved wife, and the possibility of meeting his child for the very first time. His wife, Layla, was just three months pregnant when he agreed to go to jail. 

 

He paid the driver and stepped out, feeling a mixture of nostalgia and anxiety wash over him.

 

Approaching the front gate, Caspian scanned his surroundings, his eyes lingering on some suited men stationed outside.

 

Their stoic demeanour and signature sunglasses made them stand out as special forces of some cooperate something. 

 

Caspia wondered why Layla, a business woman would have such a company of suited men. Who has she become over time? He wondered. 

 

With a furrowed brow, Caspian paused, momentarily hesitating before unlocking the gate.

 

Pushing it open, Caspian stepped inside the yard, taking a few tentative steps forward. Outwardly, everything appeared the same, yet an eerie sense of foreboding hung palpably in the air.

 

The suited men observed him intently, their earpieces and sunglasses lending an air of secrecy and authority. Caspian's heart raced, a million questions swirling in his mind. Are they Layla's bodyguard? Does the house belong to someone else? 

 

"Can I help you, sir?" one of the crouched men asked.

 

Caspian swallowed hard, the gravity of the situation sinking in. "I... I'm Caspian Moore. I used to live here, but... what's going on? Who are you? What are you doing here?" he asked, looking at the entrance and hoping Layla would show up and tell them. 'Hey, that's my husband.'

 

The men exchanged glances, their expressions inscrutable. At some point, they laughed.

 

"You used to live here?" the one that approached him asked and Caspian nodded. 

 

"Yes, I lived here with my wife before I… went for a trip," Caspian stuttered. 

 

One of them stepped forward, a silver badge glinting on his lapel. As he did, the one who spoke to Caspian earlier stepped aside and bowed. Caspian reckoned that he was now standing face-to-face with the leader of the unit.

 

"Mr. Moore, are you by any means referring to Miss Layla, as your wife?" he asked.

 

"No, I am referring to Mrs Moore. She is my wife," Caspian said with a determined expression. At the moment, he was sure that Layla was inside and that these men knew her. Again, he probed himself. Who's Layla now?

 

The one who seemed like the head of the unit pressed a button on the earpiece around his neck and in the respite that followed, he spoke. "There's an asshole down here. He claims Miss Layla is his wife…Copy that, copy, Don. Over and out."

 

What? Don? Caspian was lost in thought again. It should have been ma'am. Besides, the call went to Don, and Miss Layla was mentioned again. What's happening? 

 

"You can go in, but beware!" he said to Caspian. 

 

Caspian looked back sporadically as he walked in. He looked at the men whose eyes were fixed on her. 

 

Beware? Beware of what? Of the Don? Of Miss Layla? Who is the Don? What's he doing in my house? He was confused. He opened the door and stepped in. 

 

It was still the same setting in his sitting room, the hallway leading to the living room, another hallway to the left leading to the room. 

 

In the living room, his eyes were sent to the TV and the cartoon show playing in it. Then, across the sofa was a girl whose eyes were set on the TV. 

 

"This is surely my daughter," Caspian muttered to himself. He had longed to see her, had longed to meet her but there she was. She wouldn't even know who he was and anything about his existence. 

 

He shed a tear and hoped that he'd smile back after being introduced to his daughter. Caspian decided to avert the most miserable situation of his life when the girl would look back and ask him who he was. He took the other hallway and walked towards the Master's room. 

 

Close to the door that opened into the room, there was a bang on the door and Caspian walked on. 

 

He stood before the door and listened. He heard nothing and then he placed his ears on the door. Now there were mutters. 

 

Caspian knocked on the door. After some seconds, a voice came from the inside, it was Layla's, the same soothing voice he used to know. 

 

"Sonya, I'll be right out," she said. 

 

Sonya? Now, Caspian knew his daughter's name. But who's the Don? What was he doing in his house? What's Layla doing with Don Razor? Now, he was beginning to have answers. 

 

He knocked again. 

 

"Sonya?" Layla called again. 

 

Caspian knocked again and this time, the door was opened halfway and Layla's face was displayed. 

 

The shock in his eyes was as though she had seen a ghost as she widened them and tripped backwards. 

 

The door opened to its fullness, Caspian looked on, now dazzled as well, as though he had seen a ghost handling a rifle. 

 

Before him was a naked Layla, with her waist held by a man, naked as well. The man was of a miniature height and body and looked slightly above fifty.

 

The man stepped aside and stood beside Layla, who was still befuddled by the sight of him. 

 

Hatred, sorrow, and anger filled his soul as he sighted the most disheartening moment of his life. 

 

His gaze then shifted to the man beside Layla, the probable Don. Caspian was reminded that a call was made to the Don, yet he waited for him to come in and see them as they were.

 

Eyes back to Layla, Caspian called. "Layla?"

 

As if the voice was proof that it was Caspian, she called. "Caspian? I thought… I thought you were dead."