He began to doubt everything Mengele had told him when he knew him as ‘Dr. Weft.’ As he reflected on that dark time, he could see the inconsistencies that he had failed to notice due to the pressure and urgency of the situation. There was no time to evaluate and plan before acting, something that was unlike anything in his typical life.
Were all those warnings about endorphins and keeping Gus from getting too many surges of positive emotions a load of garbage? His gut told him yes. He could see Mengele laughing to himself at all the suffering he had indirectly caused his family. Why? What possible benefit for making him suffer? It made no sense.
“How far are we? I’m slipping!” BoJack yelled from the back. Tempest put the transport on autopilot and entered the back of the ambulance-sized ship. BoJack’s back was drenched with a deep V of sweat, his hair a ragged mop on his head, dripping to the transport floor. Tempest looked at his stats and saw he was dangerously close to bottoming out his MP.
Fumbling with his cloak, he opened a small compartment and reached inside. Three blue gels were inside, covered in a dusting of lint. He hated coconut, but maybe that was a good thing. He fed one to BoJack, his eyes calming somewhat at seeing the gel. Both his gnarled, twisted hands relaxed as the MP took a jump to around 30% full. They spread out, flexing as he held one onto Gwen’s forehead and over her heart.
“Hoo. Thanks, man, we would have both been in bad shape with rebound effects if I don’t keep this up.”
Tempest tried his best to dust off another, but BoJack just shook his head, opening wide. BoJack chomped the remaining gels, swallowing the rubbery jacket without even chewing. He closed his eyes and inhaled with relief.
“Thanks, cuz, appreciate it.” He took a few deep breaths to center himself, then opened his eyes and gave Tempest an appreciative look. “I think I’ve got it now.”
Tempest nodded and walked back to the driver’s seat and engaged manual piloting again. Seeing an opening, he passed a vehicle and narrowly made it through the next skyway before the flows changed. At last, things were starting to move.
Grimdark was pushed into a chair sitting in the middle of the room. A single light shined down, obscuring his ability to see outside the cone of light; it reminded him of being on stage. He could tell there were people seated in the shadows watching the process, murmuring quietly to themselves. One of the orderlies kept a heavy hand on his shoulder, a tacit reminder to stay put.
Did these fools have no idea of what he could do to them if he wanted?
“We have assembled here to oversee Grimdark’s orientation. He has seen the benefits of the geas and has agreed to confirm his fealty to Purple Faction,” an overly-theatrical voice intoned over the speaker.
Grimdark looked around but could only see the orderlies in his small circle of light.
“As his brother before him, he will submit willingly to the geas to add to our strength. Focusing our wills and intentions to become that much more powerful.”
“The strong, the pure…” those hidden in the shadows chanted in response.
A large man with wine colored robes, a dark cowl hiding his face, stepped into the light and began to speak. He recited some words that sounded like some kind of liturgy and a prompt came up on Grimdark’s display.
Do you accept? (Yes/No)
He almost chose ‘No’ but he saw his older brother, just at the edge of the light. Only his nose was lit by the cone, but it illuminated his features well enough. Pleading eyes begged Grimdark to do something. He had never seen his brother, the only man he looked up to, seem so… defeated. He had a couple days’ facial hair and he looked more gaunt. His hollow eyes widened as they contemplated what Grimdark would do.
Comply or resist? What did his brother want?
He then saw the orderlies that were holding his brother up by the upper arms on both sides, his legs dangling, and he wasn’t supporting himself at all.
“Choose,” the large man croaked, the command amplified on speakers all around.
Grimdark made his choice.
Chapter Sixty
Guys Like Me
“This is foolishness! If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat,” Nick pleaded as Gus opened the door at the bottom of the lift, surprised to find it unlocked.
“I have to.”
“Why, Gus, why?” Nick asked relentlessly.
Gus clenched his teeth in response. His mind was set. “Because, Nick. I have to do this—”
“As penance for making a mistake?”
“Make mistakes of ambition and not mistakes of sloth. Develop the strength to do bold things, not the strength to suffer.”
Nick growled in frustration. “Think of what you’re throwing away.”
“See? Not so fun when someone else throws quotes in your face, is it? Besides, what am I throwing away? Besides myself. The manor? My opportunity? Things keep escalating, and they’re spinning out of control. And that’s the last place someone like me should be, out of control. It says it in my first ability. Wreckless. I wreck everything I come in contact with and I’m reckless. The worst of two possible worlds. Both destructive. I don’t know what I would eventually turn into, but I can imagine if I continue on this path it could only get worse.”
“You don’t know that for sure. There are a lot of suppositions in that argument.”
Gus ignored Nick and pressed on. “I don’t think humans were supposed to get powers in the way I did. Without training and a real mentorship, slowly leveling as skills developed. I’m too lopsided and top-heavy. My powers are too strong to manage at this stage for someone with my maturity and skill. And so many of them bumping around that I haven’t even mastered the rudiments of a fraction of them.”
“So take a break and master them!”
“There’s no time, Nick. You heard how elusive this guy is. If I can end him, think of what that’ll do. I’m sure it will end more suffering by him being gone than anything I could ever accomplish if I worked the rest of my life. I don’t even trust that I can stay in control anymore. I haven’t really been doing a bang-up job so far since I’ve become a super. I haven’t really done anything that’s made the world a better place.”
“You stopped those Dark Nth.”
“I could have let the volcano take care of them. I think it was my greed in keeping the manor and my need to impress my father and friends that underlay all of those efforts.”
“It doesn’t change the fact that you did it, at great personal sacrifice. You realize that I can see those changes happening on the inside, don’t you? You can lie to yourself, but you can’t lie to me. You’re afraid and embarrassed. But you don’t have to be.”
“I know you’re trying to be encouraging, but I don’t need a cheerleader now. The time for that is gone. I’ll tell you what. If I survive this and beat Mengele, then I’ll make whatever changes you suggest.”
“No. You already agreed to that, remember? Why would I trust you now if you didn’t keep that promise? You go off on others not keeping promises, and you do the same to yourself, which is why you doubt your decisions all of the time.”
“You know what? You’re absolutely right. And it proves my point. I’m unreliable. I don’t deserve being on a team or in a family, because I’m a screw-up. I mess things up no matter how hard I try. I can’t help it. And I’m so tired. It’s so demoralizing to always be trudging uphill, fighting each step and having everything pull me down. I can’t keep this up forever.
“I know myself. I quit too easily. At one time, I thought that I could hold out and keep working if one day things would pan out, but sometimes it is what it is. No matter how well I can imagine a Pollyanna future, life never turns out that way. Especially for guys like me.”
“You managed to defeat Manticorps, and prevent that psycho from taking all those abilities and using them for who knows what nefarious purposes. He could have formed a super army and sowed discord and attacked the Factions and distr
icts. Who knows what havoc the world would be facing now?”
“It’s all the same. I used that situation to grab powers and abilities, thinking if I was just more powerful, then I could make a difference. I know better now. Power doesn’t mean influence. There’s a reason why some people can persuade others to do what they need to, and why I will always be someone who engenders doubt and has no one follow me. Because that’s the way it should be.
“Think about it. What real benefit do people have in following me? I don’t know what the hell I’m doing with just myself. I don’t know why my hybrid-Nth have managed to stay with me throughout all the mistakes I’ve made. Probably holding on ‘til they’re close enough to move to another host. Either way, they’re better off without me. So is my family, the Factions, and everyone else. I’m toxic.”
“Giving up again. I’m disappointed.”
“It’s the opposite of giving up, Nick! It’s going out with a bang and not a whimper. You even said so yourself, my mental situation is not improving, I probably don’t have much time anyways. Am I right?”
Nick didn’t reply, just grumbled.
“So it’s settled. Now please don’t distract me from making this last plan work, at least give me that.”
“As you wish.”
Gus opened the door at the bottom of the lift, surprised to find it unlocked.
Doesn’t seem like a top secret villain lair… he thought as he activated Phase Shift and slipped inside. There was a camera pointed at the door, and while he wasn’t visible, the movement of the door could have triggered something. He got into cover and switched over to Camouflage, taking in the surroundings.
Unlike the elevator, which appeared weathered and caked with dirt, this area was pristine, and resembled an upscale doctor’s waiting room. The walls had vertical recesses with large lights that shone down, either on a plant, a sculpture, or some water feature. Besides the soothing trickle of water spilling nearby over a tiny rock wall, the place was silent.
Unsure of what to do next, Gus cycled through all of his perception filters, but nothing out of the ordinary was to be seen. That made him more edgy than an outright attack, but a glance at the slow but constant drain on his MP urged him to move along. He would transfer to Phase Shift, Dash to another place of cover, then switch over to Camouflage and wait for his MP to rebound. After encountering no resistance for half an hour, Gus was almost ready to relax when a voice came over the intercom:
“I tire of this. Meet me in conference room D when you are ready. And yes, I can see you clearly. No need to try to keep up your pathetic attempts at stealth.” Gus froze and didn’t move. “This isn’t some ploy to flush you out, I see you crouched by that fern right there. To your right is a small modern sculpture next to the wall.”
Gus looked and saw that he was accurate but still kept still. There was a weary sigh and the light immediately next to him began to turn on and off. A quick glance showed that it was the only one doing that.
Gus stood up in resignation as the lights began to flicker, indicating which direction he should go. He went through his plan again, and activated Intermediate Shielding to protect himself. Mengele could probably see everything he was doing, but he wouldn’t make it easy for him. If he could detect him with Camouflage and Phase Shift, did he have some ability that revealed Nth to him? Would he know that Jet was more than just a weapon?
That voice. It really was the man from his dreams. Or memories? It was hard to distinguish which were real memories and what were vivid dreams his brain had made to process the situation. Thoughts kept intruding on his plans, half of them worrying about what he had gotten himself into, the other half trying to revise his attack strategy based on Mengele’s abilities.
He had been counting on the element of surprise, but that was now blown out of the water. He was committed now though. He doubted that Mengele would just let him go. Better to face it head on. He had to resist massaging his temples as his head began to throb. Can’t show any weakness.
With the tip of Jet’s blade, he pushed in the door. At the head of a large conference table surrounded by chairs was Mengele, who was wearing a white Nehru jacket with gold trim. He tossed a tablet to the side and leaned back and looked at Gus.
“You know, I had to make sure that it was just you coming. I’ve come to expect all kinds of attacks from my enemies and those who disagree with my methods, but I will admit I am surprised you decided to come alone. I see leaving the crude transmitter you placed on my ship was the right choice. Not a wise choice for you, considering what has happened to your predecessors who attempted entry here. However, I tried to dissuade them—but they were persistent.
“You, on the other hand, provide a rare treat. You were one of my first projects, and I would very much like to see the results of my handiwork. Mostly to evaluate how robust the weave was, but also to see how I have improved in the interim. This, however, will not be pleasant for you, and I am sure you will resist, so let’s get the formalities out of the way.” Mengele stood and with a press of a button on his tablet, the chairs retreated to the walls while the table revolved into the floor, providing a large empty room. He set the tablet on the chair behind him and clasped his hands patiently in front of him.
“Anytime you are ready.”
Chapter Sixty-One
Rock Me Tonite
Here goes nothing!
Gus activated Dash and Sweep the Leg, trying to catch Mengele by surprise. With a barely perceptible twitch of a finger, Mengele’s skin turned a speckled black, like polished basalt. His eyes shifted too, the color of molten gold. Jet sparked upon contact and Gus felt his attack rebound away, sending shock waves up his arm, making his hand tingle.
Mengele looked down at a slice in the leg of his pants and cocked his head as if to say, “Really?” Yet he did not move. He just stood there placidly, inviting Gus to take his best shot.
Gus launched into a flurry of attacks with Jet assisting. Each thrust and swing were countered almost lazily by Mengele. Often with only one hand, directing the blade away time and time again, barely using any body movement or effort. His transformation had made him immune to any type of slashing damage. On one rotation, the tip of his blade skated across the bridge of Mengele’s nose. This elicited a slight wince. A weakness?
Before he could follow up with another attack, a casual backhand crumbled Gus’ shield and still retained enough force to launch him into the air. Jet flew out of his hand as Gus hurtled sideways too fast to stop his momentum with his own flight abilities. High-back chairs along the walls exploded, sending splinters of wood flying on impact. Despite his shield, the blow had taken over 30% of his total health.
He crouched and stared daggers back at Mengele.
Unperturbed, he pulled on his sleeves and returned to standing there with arms clasped loosely in front of him.
Gus let loose as large of a Chi Pulse as he could muster. Shimmering waves sped away from him, distorting the light as they collided with Mengele. There was a slight resonance, but it just washed over him like waves crashing on a rocky shore. Still, he stood there maddeningly calm.
Gus tried Amber, hoping it would slow him down. The only effect was that the resinous material adhered to his clothing. Mengele dug his fingers into the goop and with a tearing noise pulled off his clothes. It did not stick to him at all, and Mengele used the wadded-up ball of material to blot away any residual amber that remained. Thankfully, in this state, Mengele’s nether bits were absent, more akin to a mannequin.
Panting, Gus looked at his situation in despair. This was not going even remotely like he had expected. His skin was just too tough. An idea came to mind. A quick glance at his remaining MP showed he would barely have enough. He activated Hyper and doubled his agility stat, then hit Dash.
Even with the increase in speed, Mengele’s arm came in contact with Gus’ hand as he blocked Gus’ attack. There was not a lot of force behind this thrust though. As soon as they touched, Gus activated M
eld and chose to match whatever substance Mengele’s skin had become.
From the point of contact, inky blackness spread up Gus’ arm to the shoulder. His arm immediately felt heavy, as if it were made of solid stone. Biting down, he punctured the two gels he had stored in his mouth, boosting his strength by ten points. Another quick jab and he caught Mengele in his eye with his fingertips, and they sunk into the golden orb.
Mengele caught Gus by the neck, raising him off the ground, just as it converted into stone as well. Holding Gus there two feet off the ground, he dabbed at his ruined eye, tasting the gold material there on a fingertip.
“That… was a mistake.” Mengele went to the door, thrusting Gus into it, ripping it from the hinges. He stepped out into the hallway, still carrying Gus aloft. The transformation had stolen over Gus’ whole body now. Unfortunately, while changed he still was using the last bits of his MP. He didn’t need to breathe either, which was a plus as he was sure Mengele would have choked him out in no time. Gus’ hands made scraping noises as they clawed against the arm holding it, unable to budge even a finger.
“It has been some time since someone has been able to harm me, even a little. But this ends now.” Gus watched in horror as the golden splatter that was the remains of Mengele’s eye began to pill up like mercury and then flow back to the socket. In less than a minute, the eye was whole again.
“You are surprised that I have healing abilities? I probably know more about human, super, and hybrid biology than the world’s top ten experts’ collective experience, knowledge, and skill. I am willing to go further than my colleagues and as a result, my research is in a totally different league. You know the adage cracking a few eggs and all, yes? Well, you will get a front row seat to my methods. And I will make a special effort to repay you in kind.”
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