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by Phillip Murrell


  “Well, excuse me. How do the fellas handle it?”

  “I’m told they drink beer.”

  “Nice try. How about rum raisin ice cream as a compromise?”

  “I guess it’ll have to do,” Keith jokes.

  “Alright, smart ass, you get the ice cream and I’ll set up the show. We can get at least two episodes in before I have to go back to work.”

  “You sure you’re gonna be okay working after so little sleep?”

  “The body learns to adapt. I need a little normal more than I need sleep right now.”

  “Me, too, Mom.”

  Keith looks up and kisses his mother on the cheek. She watches as he goes to get their treat and chastises herself as she tries to wipe away tears of pride when he isn’t looking.

  The full complement of Templars stands around a single chair in the middle of their training mats. Akio and Darsh are the only exceptions. None are in their armor except for Votary. Sitting in the chair first is Power. Julie and Staci stand before him as Julie informs all assembled how the rules will work.

  “So, now that each of you has a single code word, here is how our training will go. You’ll resist torture. If you give up your word, you fail. All our words will form a sentence that will bring doom to us if revealed. We’ll see just how long you can last. Staci here will serve as your tormentor. I’ll feed her with the countless ways to inflict pain on you. It’ll feel intense, as some of you already know, but it’s not real. Don’t be afraid.”

  “Damn, bitch, just start this shit already. I can take it,” Power says.

  Julie refrains from letting Power antagonize her and continues issuing instructions.

  “I’m so glad that Mr. Wiener elected to go first.”

  “Just to get out of this shit early.”

  The Templars nervously laugh at Power’s joke. Julie tries again to continue.

  “Except for Votary, nothing can stop you from using your powers, so you may try to let them aid you in resisting, but you may not use them to actively escape. It’s doubtful the Malignant can take your powers, as evident by our newest recruits’ testimony, but we’ll pretend that escape isn’t an option. You may lie about your word, but since Votary and I’ll know if you have, you’ll get a one-minute break from the pain followed by more extreme pain when your deception is revealed. Use this information as you will. Does everyone understand me?”

  Slow nods indicate that they do, but they appear less than enthusiastic about the immediate future.

  “I don’t want to do this,” Staci complains.

  “Remember our deal,” Julie whispers.

  Votary’s head cants to the side, and Julie internally chastises herself for forgetting about the enhanced audio receptors in his helmet. She hopes he doesn’t decide to make an issue of it later. Conversations with him are always equal parts tiring and aggravating.

  “Bring it, girl,” Power taunts Staci.

  Staci sighs and slowly turns to Power. She waits for Julie to give her a target. Julie stands behind Power’s chair so he can’t see her. She points to her fingernails and mimes each being ripped out by pliers. Staci nods and complies. She doesn’t move a hand or even look at Power directly, but his screams soon confirm for Julie that Staci is obeying.

  “Shit, okay, brutal, the piece of shit word is brutal. Like you be acting, bitch.”

  Julie shakes her head at how easily Power caved.

  “That wasn’t even two minutes, Mr. Wiener.”

  “I don’t give a damn,” Power says. “Get me out of this chair.”

  Power waits as Smith releases his straps and lets him out.

  “Why didn’t you try to turn completely metal?” Smith asks.

  “Shit wasn’t on my mind at the time,” Power answers as he stands from the chair.

  “Did I forget to mention that whoever wins our little contest for longevity gets a break from the tedium of Votary’s abuse?”

  “No!” Power shouts.

  “That’s what you get for not manning up,” Smith says.

  “Why don’t you show us how it’s done then, baby,” Mitch says.

  “That’s just cruel,” Smith says to his boyfriend.

  “I don’t want you to go through this, but it’s kind of funny, so I just need you to hurry up and finish.”

  “Fair enough,” Smith says as he plops onto the seat.

  Gallery secures him in place.

  “Show us how it’s done,” she says with a wink.

  Smith appears to no longer be listening. Julie indicates to Staci that she should smash his kneecaps in with hammers. Smith howls as the invisible abuse ravages the nerves in his legs. Julie is impressed by how he handles his pain. She continues to be impressed after fifteen minutes, and eight more seconds pass before he finally says his word. Unfortunately for Smith, Julie knows it’s the wrong word.

  “Impressive, Bill. In thirty more seconds you’ll find out if your stubbornness was worth it,” Julie says.

  “I’m sure it won’t be,” Smith says through shaky breaths, “but I’m thinking maybe if you move on to my face, maybe we can change that.”

  Julie offers a glance at Mitch. The unofficial Templar mascot has both eyes covered by his hands. Kimmy rubs his back and tries to keep him from focusing on the terror that erupts from Smith’s mouth when Julie suggests to pluck both eyes out.

  Smith is able to last nearly twelve more minutes before he finally taps out.

  “Olympus, you bitch; Olympus. The word is Olympus.”

  “Thank you, Bill. That was truly inspiring,” Julie says.

  The assembled Templars all applaud Smith as the former SEAL shakily rises from the chair and gives Mitch a loving hug and kiss on the forehead.

  “Next is Amine. I’m curious to see how this one plays out,” Julie admits.

  It doesn’t play out well for Amine. Apparently, a fake attack doesn’t activate his own augmentation, and Amine crumbles from the pain even faster than Power did. The remaining ten Templars also eventually fold. It’s no surprise to any of them that Smith’s record stands when the whole session is over.

  “Bill, would you do us the honor of reading out the sentence?” Julie asks.

  “Gladly,” Smith says with a grin. “The quickest way to a brutal death is crossing the Templars of Olympus!”

  The Templars all cheer at the hidden threat to an unknowing Malignant fleet. Votary nods at Julie as she individually thanks each participant.

  “With your permission, Votary, I’d like to excuse the veteran Templars for a special training event,” Julie says.

  Votary cocks his head to the side before answering. “What exactly?”

  “Don’t make me ruin the surprise,” Julie answers. “I have something special planned for when the rookies have to prove their worth against the veterans in the training simulator.”

  Votary shrugs. “You’ll have to reveal it eventually, SOT. Everyone else, let’s let The Speaker have her way.”

  How childish, Julie thinks. “Thank you.”

  Julie and the rookie Templars wait as the rest file out of the room. Smith and Mitch giggle as they pass. Everyone knows what those two have planned. Eventually Julie is alone with the malleable minds of the previous Malignant prisoners.

  “What’s up, Julie?” Dante asks.

  “Mel, I need you to transfer powers among the rest of your fellow Templars,” Julie answers.

  “What?” the collective shout as one.

  “We can’t envision every possibility when we fight the Malignant. The time may come when we’ll need to know how to control another Templar’s power.”

  “I can’t take this shit anymore!” Staci screams. “You promised!”

  “What does that mean?” James asks.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Julie quickly answers.

/>   She flashes Staci with her predatory smile. She adds extra venom to it. Staci appears to take the hint and controls her emotions.

  “Why not?” Dan asks.

  “Because I said so. We don’t have much time. We need to learn how to fight outside of our comfort zones,” Julie says.

  “Maybe we should ask Abel or Votary first?” Mary Lee suggests.

  Julie stomps her foot. “I’m in command right now! You won’t question my orders or my methods. You’ll do this or you’ll greatly upset me. If you want to know what happens when I get offended, ask Mr. Wiener why his legs don’t work!”

  The rookie Templars take several steps away from Julie. The silence is unnerving. None, besides Greg and Dan, are even willing to look at Julie.

  “Have I made myself clear?” Julie asks.

  She scans the nervous eyes of each rookie. Most look away, but they nod.

  “Sure, Julie, you’re the boss,” Dale says.

  “It’s only going to be for a little while, right?” Greg asks. “I like being invisible.”

  “Dude, shut up,” Melissa whispers as she nudges Greg’s arm. “I’ll do whatever you need me to do, Julie.”

  “Good. For starters, I’d like Dale and Mary Lee to trade gifts, then Greg and Dan, and finally Dante and James.”

  “What about Staci?” James asks.

  “Don’t worry about her. She’s our odd woman out for the time being. Having Mel swap powers with anyone would be beyond foolish,” Julie answers.

  Julie pulls the chair used for the interrogations away as the remaining Templars pair up on the orange Malignant training mats.

  Dale slaps his face as he pumps himself up. “I’m ready. Bring it!”

  Melissa looks at Julie. Julie nods her approval. Melissa points at Dale and Mary Lee. Nothing appears to happen, but Melissa drops her arms.

  “Dale, how do you feel?” Julie asks.

  “About the same, I guess,” he answers.

  “Please attempt to improve Dan’s drawings,” Julie says.

  Dale shrugs. He walks over to Dan as the Templar artist begins drawing a radio-controlled car. Dale rests his hands on the man’s head. For a moment, he mimes making the younger man perform fellatio. All Templars, except Dan and Julie, share a laugh.

  Dan drops his pen and notepad as he violently stands. “Bitch, get the hell off me!”

  “You’ll take this seriously, or it will become very unpleasant,” Julie says.

  She clenches her fists as the room becomes silent again. Dan grabs his notepad and pulls the child’s toy from the paper. Dale grabs Dan’s shoulders. The simple car transforms as it’s pulled off the sheet. It now shifts between car, boat, truck, and plane. The Templars gasp. It’s clear that Dale boosted Dan’s power.

  “Excellent,” Julie says with a small smile. “Mary Lee, would you please change your form?”

  Mary Lee looks more apprehensive than Dale did. She takes several deep breaths. “Any suggestions?”

  “Surprise me,” Julie says before the other Templars can begin shouting their ideas.

  Mary Lee scrunches her face and contorts her body. At first, she looks constipated, but within seconds her body transitions into a combination of a moose and an armadillo. The giant beast looks absurd as it curls into a shell the size of a sedan with massive antlers keeping it from rolling. When the animal relaxes its posture, Mary Lee stands in the center of the mats with an enormous smile.

  “That was incredible. I think I’ll keep this one,” Mary Lee says.

  “The hell you will,” Dale says.

  He takes a step toward Mary Lee before he stops when Julie raises her hand.

  “Change them back, Mel,” Julie says.

  The young woman obeys. Dale tests the truthfulness of this by transforming into a caterpillar and parakeet combination. The long animal circles the Templars from the air. Dale lands and turns back into a regular augment.

  “Damn straight,” Dale says with a fist pump.

  “How was it?” Julie genuinely asks.

  “Alarming at first, but you’ll soon figure it out,” Mary Lee answers.

  “Honestly, this was easier to wrap my mind around than finding out I was an augment in the first place,” Dale adds.

  “Interesting.” Julie rubs her chin. If the rookies could so easily adapt, she has no doubt the veterans, as well as the Malignant, would quickly learn another’s power. She hopes it won’t come to it, but hope is not a sound method in war. “I believe Dan and Greg were next.”

  The next two Templars wait for their turn to experience another augment’s powers.

  Sometime later, Flaimeson walks through the halls searching for Abel. He is not surprised when he finds the Gudz Father on the bridge.

  “Father, do you have a moment?” Flaimeson asks.

  “Of course, Flaimeson, what do you need?”

  “I would like to revisit our conversation about Baldr from before.”

  “What specifically would you like to know?”

  “Why was he so special, even more so than your parents?”

  Flaimeson sees the hurt in Abel’s eyes and wonders if he foolishly chose his words.

  “He was not more important,” Abel answers. “He was unique.”

  “How?”

  “I spent thousands of years searching for clues to the crew of the Olympus. This led to many fantastic tales. Some could be explained away through augmentation, while others were clearly the fantasies of early humans. However, in every case it was clear that the Malignant were, for lack of a better term, the bad guys. The Gudz were the noble protectors of mankind.”

  “Except for Baldr?”

  “Quite the opposite. Because of Baldr, one of the Malignant apparently turned on Whiro.”

  “Which one?”

  “Baldr traveled north with his father and is now remembered as one of the Norse gods. The Malignant were always the underworld gods, so the one who turned was—”

  “Hel,” Flaimeson interrupts, “but why did she turn?”

  “I am not entirely certain. This history is not reported by any writing from the era, but I think she and Baldr became spouses.”

  “Really? That is curious, but it does not answer my question of why he was so important to you.”

  “It does not?” Abel asks. “You spent so many years among the Malignant; have not you noticed this one aspect about them?”

  “You mean their fanatical devotion?”

  “Indeed. What did Baldr do to break this devotion. My investigation led me away from the cold northern countries of Earth to a much warmer climate in the south.”

  “What did you find there?”

  “Who says I found anything? Some evidence that they did fall in love, but little else.”

  “Thank you, Father. I think I will conduct my own investigation into Baldr and Hel. A strange couple, to say the least.”

  “I agree. I often wondered if they served as the inspiration to the tale of Romeo and Juliet.”

  “Who?”

  “It is unimportant. Have you seen Votary?”

  “He is training with the recruits. Where else would he be?”

  “Indeed. I suppose I will go regard the training.”

  “Yes, Father, thank you again.”

  Abel simply nods as he walks away.

  Melanie trails behind Mr. Polite as the two work their way through the throngs of people at a “Malignant Pride” parade. Melanie looks at the people with sympathy. The Malignant don’t concern her. She’s not sure if this is because she already has a tormentor or because she knows she can easily surrender to them and be accepted. Regardless, most of these people are wasting their time.

  Mr. Polite grips her hand and pulls her close. A bit too firmly for one who professed his love the day before. The erratic je
rk forces Melanie into the path of a man not paying attention to those around him. Melanie yelps from the impact, and this alerts Mr. Polite.

  “Sorry,” Melanie says to the man.

  Melanie waits for a response and becomes worried when Mr. Polite turns.

  “It was an accident,” Melanie protests.

  The man ignores her and Mr. Polite. He walks away without a word. This action seals his fate.

  “He should have apologized, too,” Mr. Polite says.

  “No!” Melanie shouts.

  Her alarm catches the attention of several nearby spectators. They all witness Mr. Polite lift the unintentionally rude man into the air and use thin force shields to separate the man at every joint. The man’s screams are brief, but they’re soon replaced by the thunderous panic of dozens of terrified people trying to escape the rain of viscera that Mr. Polite drops.

  Melanie grabs Mr. Polite in an attempt to look terrified by the stampede and focuses her ill will toward the cancer she hopes is growing in his brain.

  “I’ll protect you, my sweet Melanie,” Mr. Polite says.

  Without any gestures, he swats the crowd to both sides and clears a path for the two of them to use as a convenient escape. The couple take their time as they casually stroll down the street. Several police officers show up and point weapons at the pair.

  “Don’t move,” one instructs.

  Melanie thinks she recognizes him, but she doesn’t know why.

  “Please step aside, Officer. We have places to be,” Mr. Polite says.

  “It’s Sergeant,” the police officer states. “Sergeant Tanner, and you’re under arrest for countless murders.”

  Now Melanie understands why he’s familiar. She saw him propose to Claire Kennedy on television a few weeks earlier.

  “That’s Claire’s man,” Melanie informs Mr. Polite. “Please leave him alone.”

  “I’m not going to kill police officers,” Mr. Polite says. “What kind of monster do you take me for?”

  Melanie doesn’t know how to answer this. She realizes that she doesn’t have to when Mr. Polite pulls her by her wrist again.

  “Take him down!” Benji shouts.

  A bullet fired from an unseen sniper bounces off a shield that appears in front of Mr. Polite’s face. The round ricochets and hits a fleeing pedestrian as she tries to gather her children and protect them from the panicked mob. She screams as she attempts to hold the flesh of her leg together.

 

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