The Trouble With Brothers
Get a FREE e-book by joining our mailing list today!
See full terms and conditions and this month's choices. Tell us what you like, so we can send you books you'll love. Sign up and get a free eBook! The Trouble with Brothers By P. Illustrated by Julia Denos. Book 3 of Sleepover Squad. Price may vary by retailer. Aladdin December Length: The Trouble with Brothers eBook Get a FREE e-book by joining our mailing list today! More books from this author: More books in this series: The informal leader of Earth swished his huge chair around and sat down, continuing to gaze at the morning sky awash with shades of orange and pink.
He had always been merciless, had never felt remorse upon seeing death or destruction, but his siblings were wrong in thinking that he enjoyed killing. No, just because one didn't resent something, it didn't mean that that they embraced it. There was always middle ground. He had simply killed to satisfy his hunger for power. Control and power called to him, just as kindness embraced Valentine. Life wasn't fair, genetic wasn't fair.
The Trouble with Brothers, an ender's game series fanfic | FanFiction
They couldn't choose what effect their genes had on them, could only be piloted by these desires, for life or death. So what was this sudden urge to see his brother again? His intelligent, cold and calculating mind told him that it was only to cement the final brink of his rule- to make sure that the stupid boy would not cause any problems.
He had used so many past leaders' love of family and friends against them. He could not afford to start valuing something as pathetic as family now. What was the sudden panic that twisted you heart when you learnt of his sudden illness? The enveloping relief you felt when you received news the secret, fast shuttle bearing him had landed safely? Was all of that just strategy? Then, he took a moment to compose himself, smoothed down his spotless suit and pressed a communication tablet on his desk.
Despite his best effort to stay calm, his heart started to thump so loudly it must have been transmitted into the microphone. His brother was here. Stop being so paranoid, he told himself. The computer couldn't betray you. That was why he had chosen to get such as a secretary in the first place. Computers were loyal to their programmer, and most importantly, they were easy to get rid of. The large oak doors swung back on their well-oiled hinges without a sound. A slim figure entered. The room was too long and too dim for him to make out the features of the visitor. He was about to call for lights when he hesitated.
- Handbook of Learning Disabilities, Second Edition.
- .
- The Cherry Pickers (A Melissa Craig Mystery);
- Le prix de linnocence (French Edition).
What did his brother look like now? All he could remember was a faint image of a boy with fear in his eyes, cowering before him. But that was years ago, battle school surely would have changed him. He quickly calculated, the boy would be 10…no, 11 now. He would have changed, both physically and emotionally. He was almost afraid to find out how. Frightened to look into the boy's eyes and see what lay there. The figure didn't speak, didn't even move forwards.
Almost seemed to taunt him by standing where he can't be seen. Even at twelve, it was obvious that the boy was going to be something of a looker when older. Dark, silky hair gelled and combed back. Piercing blue eyes that spoke of intelligence and veiled emotions sat above a proud nose. The entire picture framed by a straight, powerful jaw.
He was dressed in the formal IF uniform of black and grey, with several gold stripes on the shoulders showing his new status as an admiral. The collar of a white shirt and the knot of a black tie covered his neck. Black laced leather shoes polished until they shone.
More books from this author: P. J. Denton
When was the boy he knew so silent, like the lull before a storm? He had planned to decipher what the boy thought from his body language, yet all was too well concealed. What should he say? How does one speak to the brother they'd resented and dreamt of murdering once? For a moment, the two make eye contact and held, each transfixed by the intensity of the other's gaze.
Was this truly his brother, the one who had never dared to challenge him? Who had always followed his around, pathetically seeking his love and affection; even he had cruelly pushed him away again and again? Look at you now- the saviour of earth and mankind. I never imagined you as any more than a blood thirsty murderer. Yet, I've become a celebrated hero, and you're the respected ruler of the mankind. Fate has a weird sense of humour. Is it still possible for us to make some sort of peace?
Use it to bend your people to your will?
The Trouble with Brothers
Use my name as a weapon to get what you want? Peter turned and moved to a collection of white velvet couches by the side of the room. Perhaps it was time to use another method. He poured himself a glass of white wine, "Do you want a drink?
Said person picked up a glass with slightly shaking hands and took a carefully sip. You sound almost concerned. A gulp of the wine now, "I was insane and gravely ill. Sorry to disappoint you. He had stared down soldiers and politicians alike, how could his own brother be a hurdle? It wasn't meant to be like this.
Ender was supposed to be like putty in his hands, not an unbendable steel bar. His brother sank back into the cushions, looking tired and out of place against the white backdrop. Despite promising to keep this a peaceful encounter, Peter was at the end of his patience, "How dare you? Now, his brother stood too, and for a moment they tried to stare each other down.
Two pairs of icy blue orbs sucked the warmth from their surroundings. The Hegemon-to-be marched to his desk in quick, angry strides and brought back a thick folder. He held it out to the younger boy. He threw the folder at the boy's feet, and pages and pages of names, photographs and nicely recorded notes spilled out. Look carefully…and tell me how you're any better. Ender knelt slowly and picked up the nearest page. The face of a smiling young woman beamed up at him, seemingly oblivious to the fact that she was already dead. A stamp on the page read:. A picture of a middle aged man, looking serious at the camera took the last available image of him.
A young man barely of barely A woman who smiled with a glint in her eye. A girl looking defiant. And they were all dead. His hands fumbled with his too tight collar. Someone called his name. Nimble fingers unbuttoned the top of his shirt and loosened his tie. Steady hands gripped his shaking shoulders. A hand hovered nearby uncertainly and eventually came to rest on his back. The panic attack passed and Ender felt himself looking into another pair of eyes. So much like his own, piercing, cold and merciless. But under all that, there was a tiny spark of warmth that withstood the drenching cold.
So it was his older brother's hand that rested on his back. That immediately associated with pain, and the realisation made him flinch and jerk away. The hand on his back disappeared; and the one on his shoulder loosened enough for him to shrug it off. The younger boy's face was filled with a kind of desperation. I don't know anymore.
- .
- Lïle des retrouvailles (Blanche) (French Edition)!
- !
I spent a good half of my life seeking your love- hoping against hope that you were capable of some feeling… some kind of remorse. He swallowed thickly, "But I gave up on that a long time ago.