Unity

by Carl Stubblefield

  Mengele rushed away, and Gus heard metal clanking. With desperation, his tormentor squeezed a large syringe into his IV bag, turning the white liquid a slight yellow color as it mixed and flowed.

  The flicker in Gus’ vision began to happen more quickly, and he finally realized it for what it was—his display! He could see it again! As it became more solid, Gus felt the agitated red energy ripple over him like tiny bubbles. Defying gravity, they flowed upward to cover him completely. The red foamy wave flowed over his face and in between the tight clamps on his legs, arms, and head. Then they began to merge, becoming more transparent as the bubbles jiggled and joined.

  Seeing his display come into focus, Gus tried to access his abilities, and they were there. Well, some of them were. Bound, Enhanced Strength, Intermediate Shielding, Shake, Shatter, and all of his Wreck skills were there. He was going to activate Intermediate Shielding, but it was already active, passively. Where his skin touched his restraints, he could discern a difference between this metal and the one the table was made of.

  As the red energy infused him, it needed an outlet. Pouring his attention into his restraints, he felt their unique signature. They appeared as a wide sine wave. Funneling energy into the wave, he intuitively created a wave that mirrored the metal. As he pushed the energy out, the amplitude of the wave increased bit by bit, but its frequency remained the same. Knowing there was an outlet, energy began to flow with more force. His body trembled as it became the equivalent of a shotgunned drink.

  Mengele continued to try to do something, but nothing was working. There was a brief flash of heat, and Gus turned to see a large laser pointed at him, its beam aimed at the left side of his chest. Around its target, the bubbles smoothed and became completely transparent with a crimson tinge. Once it clarified, the beam reflected off, scoring the ceiling with a deep burn until Mengele released the activator and pushed it to the side with a heave.

  The restraints began to glow lightly with the strain. One restraint on his hand split with a loud *crack*! The free ends rattled against each other like machine-gun fire. One by one, the other restraints began to break. A side of the first restraint to break snapped free and flew toward Mengele’s face. He easily batted it away, but it sounded like a gong when his black arm connected with the chunk of metal. Shielding his eyes, he slowly moved forward as metal rattled and flew.

  Gus’ joints popped as he heaved himself over and fell face-first on the ground. He still felt numb, his body covered in an insensate prickle. The energy that Gus felt on the table exploded into his body. His arms were clutched to his chest, right under his chin, and Gus vomited. Black ooze poured out of him, giving him creepy flashbacks of Methiochos’ tentacled body. His back arched as he forcefully expelled whatever toxic garbage was in his system.

  Despite the traumatic nature of the experience, Gus immediately felt better. With a shriek, the operating table was pried up with a black hand and flung out of the way. Panting, Mengele picked up Gus like a naughty kitten, holding him by the back of the neck. With a sharp twist, he spun Gus to face him. There was a dimming of the power as Gus lost contact with the floor, but long, thin arcs of scarlet energy occasionally jumped to make contact with the soles of his feet.

  Muscles bulged on Mengele’s forearm, but they could not compress Gus’ neck. Veins popped out on Mengele’s neck and forehead as he tried with all his might to crush Gus’ windpipe, but to no avail.

  Woodenly, Gus reached up and grabbed the arm holding him. He could feel the same red energy pulsing through Mengele. The contact with Mengele gave another signature wavelength, this one much more complex. Gus directed the throbbing energy pent up in him into it.

  Unlike the restraints, the energy felt like it fell down a deep well and didn’t hit bottom. Mengele squinted his eyes at Gus.

  “I don’t know how you did it, but I didn’t work this hard to share this power.” He leaned back to hurl Gus.

  Gus pulled energy up through Mengele and held on for dear life. He directed all of it through his hands as they clutched onto Mengele’s arm. As his captor let go, Gus prepared for an impromptu flight, which never happened. He remained firmly attached like a tick. Gus squinted his own eyes as he looked back at Mengele. No matter how he flicked, Gus couldn’t be pried off of his arm.

  “Leave… that… alone,” Mengele growled through gritted teeth as Gus pulled on the energy. It flowed more quickly, but the energy tumbled into the abyss and was gone. Still he pulled. As energy coursed through him, the tingle of numbness was washed away in the tide and Gus felt his grip tighten even more.

  Tiny waxy worms squeezed out of his pores like blackheads as the energy pressed through him. Thin webs of energy formed all around him, converging on the pair like the electrode in a plasma ball. Equipment was cut neatly in two as the thin threads thickened and whipped into them. Some instruments converted to molten metal as a beam passed through them and flung the liquefied material to spatter and congeal on the walls, floor, and other tables.

  The flow pounded onto Gus like a waterfall, battering against him. He held onto Mengele who somehow managed to absorb all of it without any signs of stopping. The roar of it flowing around him began to be deafening and everything in the room began to be bathed in a ruby light, like a darkroom, which continued to darken, masking the contrast of everything except the arm in front of Gus and the glowing golden eyes of Mengele which burned through the crimson tide.

  A profound sense of smallness overcame Gus. He felt like a dust mote next to the sun, engulfed in its utter immensity. He knew if he let go, he would be swept away. The energy coursed through him, burning away any dross which was lost into the pit. He expected to be consumed at any moment, to puff into a tiny plume of smoke, but after what felt like an eternity, the energy finally started to lessen. He blinked as he began to see his surroundings again. Without everything washed out he could see that the well was nearly full, in fact, as it was filling too fast.

  Unable to slow the flow, energy hit the event horizon, and there was only red as the energy surpassed its limits.

  Chapter Seventy-Nine

  Less Talk, More Rokk

  Darik refused to close his eyes or look away as Razor glared back at him. He wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Though he felt like a slab of concrete was lying on his chest, he tempered his expression to show the least discomfort. From his vantage, the uneven steps between his sternum and separated ribs appeared sickeningly obvious.

  Razor raised his leg high, pausing for effect. He was relishing every moment of his nemesis’ demise. With a swift movement, he fell completely on his butt, eyes bulging. Like a ninja, Darik saw the sunlight play across Prime’s helmet as she ducked and sliced with a weapon he had never seen before. It looked like lightning on a stick and as it swiped through the legs of the supers around him, they fell to the ground.

  One of them raised a huge sledge, swinging it in an arc to crack Prime in the head while her back was turned. Darik tried to yell a warning but it came out only as a weak croak. The crackling sword glided and sailed through another super’s waist and he went boneless and fell on his face.

  Right before the hammer crashed, Prime turned, ducked slightly, and swiped through the arm holding the weapon at the shoulder. Then she continued on, working her way through the circle as if she had choreographed the entire thing. As she left his field of vision, Darik saw the super’s arm go limp, the momentum of the swing carrying the weapon directly at him now.

  There was a loud *thud* as the sledgehammer that had crushed his chest landed inches from his head, and he was covered with a plume of dirt. Spitting and blinking, he tried to wipe his eyes, but the attempt at moving his arms made stars burst across his vision and took his breath away. He let his arms fall back to his sides as he gasped for air.

  Something soft smacked his face and bounced over him. He was briefly irritated until he saw the small red gel bounce over him to land on the ground. As he gingerly turned his head, he also saw that Razor w
as army crawling toward him, a serrated blade in his hand. Darik could hear Prime scuffling with someone in the distance.

  Darik made a pug-lip and blew hard, trying to clear some of the dirt from his face. He tried to focus on the small gel so tantalizingly close. Razor ground his teeth back and forth as he approached, looking like a feral zombie. Trying to put him out of his mind, Darik turned his attention to the gel.

  His vision blurred as he tried to squint, wink, and screw up his face so that he could clear the dirt out of his eye so he could see. It felt like ground glass in there, and he needed to get this right on the first try. Razor was only about three feet from the precious health gel and was making a beeline to him. Closing his problem eye, Darik made his calculations and opened his mouth. A silver dollar sized portal formed and the gel dropped inside just as Razor’s elbow passed the space.

  Darik bit down on the gel as it fell into his mouth. It crunched as he also got a healthy handful of dirt mixed in, but he kept chewing anyway and swallowed the muddy paste. There was another crushing sensation as the bone and cartilage were pulled together. They knit and reattached to his sternum, but just barely. He would need more time or gels to fully recover.

  Darik pushed weakly with his feet, sliding on his back in retreat as Razor stabbed with frenzy, narrowly missing his shin. He tried kicking out but Razor flipped the knife and almost stabbed his foot through the open slice in his boot tip. With a surge, he pushed back with a foot and his head cracked against concrete. Looking up, he saw one of the supports at the base of the signal tower.

  Encouraged, Razor scuttled more quickly, stabbing and pulling himself with the knife. Razor let loose a triumphant yell, and Darik answered with a shout of his own. They roared at each other. Then Prime was there. She flicked her sword and turned to gauge any other threats. The knife flipped into the air from his grasp and landed in the back of his thigh. Razor briefly paused his yelling as he twisted and stared dumbly at the blade protruding out his leg, then began yelling again.

  Seeing that everyone was down, groaning and rolling on the ground, Prime collapsed the sword and attached it to her forearm.

  “Can you walk?”

  Darik shook his head, unable to hear with Razor’s screaming. A quick kick from Prime ended that nonsense.

  “Can you walk?” Prime repeated.

  Darik tried but he found he still couldn’t put any weight on his arms. Moving them wasn’t agony though. He shook his head and wiped his eyes, clearing tears of agony. Prime tossed three more red gels at him.

  “As fast as you can. We need to get the others.”

  Darik nodded and scarfed the gels, licking his teeth to clear out the grit. A few uncomfortable moments later, he gave Prime a thumbs up.

  “I lost them,” he said after checking his display. He gave Razor a kick. “‘Cause of this idjit.”

  “No worries. Follow me.”

  They skirted the edge of the compound, where groups were accumulating, watching the conflagration. Others still fled in panic, while a few were taking measures to control the flames. Using tactical signals, Prime communicated when to wait, and when it was clear to proceed. They turned a corner and Grimdark was kneeling by Harmony as she rubbed one of her ankles.

  “She twisted it,” Grimdark said without emotion, but pointed accusingly at Harmony’s high-heeled boots. Prime checked her belt and pulled out a gel.

  “That’s my last one. We need to meet Seneschal in the hangar. The others are already on their way there.” The group followed Prime until they reached the hangar. The group was crowded around someone lying on the ground.

  “What happened?”

  “Something happened to Yuki while we were on the rooftop. She screamed like nothing I’ve ever heard and just went totally stiff. She’s been like this ever since.”

  “Feedback backlash. She told me of it once, but it was a long time ago. It should pass, but it means she failed her hack into Purple Faction. It could be hours, maybe days before she’s conscious again,” Harmony explained.

  “Great, so we’re totally exposed. Unless you made those scramblers, Aurora?”

  “Some, but not enough for all of us—not enough time.”

  “Does anyone have any good news?”

  “I think I found our ship,” Seneschal said, rounding a corner. “I’m locked out, so someone with Tier 2 will need to unlock it.” Rory raised his hand and then froze like a statue. He began to tip and fall forward and the others rushed to catch him. They slowed his fall so he was gently laid on the ground, but he was a big guy, so they couldn’t move him easily.

  Aurora rushed to his side and Rory looked up at her, his eyes the only thing he could voluntarily control.

  “Are you okay?” She caressed his stubbly face with a hand.

  “Let’s carry him. As top technician, Rory should have access, but we’ve got to get him to the scanner.” They struggled to hoist him up and carry him where Seneschal directed. Grimdark whistled as they approached the ship Seneschal had chosen.

  “A corsair? Are you sure? We’re going to piss off a lot of people!” Harmony gasped.

  “Oh, I’m sure. I’ve always wanted to drive one of these babies,” Seneschal countered. “I like to think of it as a going away present.”

  Darik grumbled as someone stepped on his wounded foot in their shuffle to carry Rory. “BoJack better be coming with us.”

  “He is, I’ve already met with him. We’re picking him up after we leave here. Tempest is staying with Gwen, whatever the Faction decides to do,” Seneschal retorted bitterly. “We’re here; lean him up to the scanner.” It took some acrobatics, but they managed to get a retinal and hand scan done to unlock ship controls.

  They carried Rory inside, and Seneschal ran to the cockpit.

  “Strap in, this is going to be unlike other transports. Especially Rory,” Seneschal ordered.

  The ship lifted unexpectedly, with almost none of the vibration and noise of a typical transport, especially one of this size. Inertial dampeners quickly kicked in and the only evidence of motion was through the windows as they sailed out the hangar doors to pick up BoJack.

  “I’m afraid you lost the pinky toe completely, and about half of the next one. That can’t be regenerated. I doubt it will affect you that much in the long term though,” BoJack explained. He put his hands on the top of Darik’s foot and skin flowed over the crusty cauterized tissue. “How did you manage this, anyway?”

  “I didn’t have time to invert the portal edges. Mostly because I was being buried alive and vastly outnumbered!”

  Harmony turned to Prime who was grooming herself after removing her helmet. “But you took care of all those guys no problem, right?”

  “I didn’t have no special taser sword!” Darik snapped back.

  “My Fulgurant? I haven’t used it in a while, but it works nicely as a non-lethal, especially on supers,” Prime said off-handedly. “It temporarily disrupts nerve conduction. You can easily kill someone if you don’t know what you’re doing, but it is very effective in the right hands. Those supers should be back to normal in about six hours.”

  Darik rubbed his foot, flaking off the crispy bits, revealing healthy pink, though shorter, toes underneath.

  “Thanks, BoJack. But damn, I liked those boots.”

  “I assume you all know about Gus?” Prime asked. When all she saw were confused looks, she scrunched her nose. “Don’t any of you read your messages?”

  Chapter Eighty

  The Good, the Bad, and the Dirty

  Prime clicked on the intercom. “Seneschal, you’ll want to hear this too, so listen in.” She turned to the group and removed her helmet. “Gus ran off to fight Mengele on his own. And he says he doesn’t want us to follow. He gave the manor to us and put Aurora in charge.”

  “He what?!” Aurora blurted, while others looked shocked or gasped.

  “But why?” Anastasia held her hands cupped to her face.

  “I’ll let you read it yourselves,
but we have to help him. With the Faction being as it is, we need him, and to figure out what happened. He apologized to you, BoJack. What was that all about?” Prime asked bluntly.

  “I’m still pissed off at Gus. In more ways than one, maybe even more now—”

  “Yeah, what happened with that? You guys seemed pretty buddy-buddy there for a bit,” Harmony piped in.

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “She’s right,” Aurora said, color draining from her face. “The tracker is gone. We have no idea where Mengele is, or Gus either if he went after him. He could already be gone.”

  “He’s not gone, at least not yet,” BoJack mumbled so only Anastasia could hear.

  “W-w-wait. What aren’t you telling us, BoJack? How do you know he isn’t dead? What’s this all about? I thought we were a team. Now I’m hearing all these secrets coming out of nowhere. There’s no way we can get along if we don’t communicate.” Anastasia censured giving everyone a hurt look. “I know I don’t speak up most of the time, but that doesn’t mean I’m not worried. You know we have to go after him, right? No one left behind.”

  “He did give the manor to us. Maybe we should head there and regroup?” Harmony interjected. A few withering stares from some of the others made her squeak in surprise. “Just a suggestion, guys…”

  “If you must know, he delved me without my permission. And then acted like he was shocked that it was a big deal,” BoJack blurted out, staring at his hands and playing with one of his fingernails. “And now he’s run off after Mengele. Throwing his life away. I was angry at him before, but now I’m furious!” He clenched the hand into a fist. “There’s so much he doesn’t know, and he just runs off half-cocked.”

  “I had no idea. But is there any chance that he really didn’t know how bad that is?” Harmony asked.