The Rise of Dark Flame

by Damien Benoit-Ledoux

  Blake relaxed, satisfied with his victory. “And stop following me. Tell your dad to tell Ralph I’m fine.”

  Darien grabbed his phone from the ground and then stood up. He frowned and looked at Blake. “What do you mean?”

  “It’s obvious to me now that you’re spying on me, Darien. It’s the only logical reason as to why you keep showing up in my life these days.” Blake looked at the phone in Darien’s hand; the plastic case had cracked, but the phone’s glass surface had survived the fall.

  Lucky.

  “Maybe I just like coming to the park, too.”

  “Why?”

  Darien hesitated. “Because it’s quiet and no one yells at me. Why do you come here?”

  More often than not, for the same reason.

  “To think, mostly, and yeah, get away from it all.”

  “But you already did that…” Darien said, a tentativeness in his voice.

  Blake curiously regarded at Darien, who pocketed his phone and shoved his hands into his jean pockets. Darien sighed and confessed. “All right, fine. Yes, your drunk-ass dad put it on my drunk-ass dad to have me spy on you. I know some stuff. Your dad’s pretty pissed you ran away or whatever you did.”

  Blake smiled triumphantly. Then, he surprised himself by deciding to test the waters and share a little more than he normally would with Darien. “When the lightning strike hospital bill came in at thirty grand, my dad flipped out and wanted me to drop out of school and work full-time so we could pay it off.”

  “That’s insane.”

  Blake nodded. “Yeah. Then, my bill was paid by a mysterious donor and my dad still wanted me to pay it off. Naturally, I refused. I knew he’d just buy more booze and drink himself into perpetual oblivion with that kind of extra cash in his hands.”

  “Wow,” Darien said, studying him. “My dad hasn’t said anything that stupid to me.”

  “Then you’re ten times luckier than me.”

  “Maybe. So, how do you afford all this new stuff? You didn’t rob a bank, did you?”

  For the first time, Blake detected curious humor in Darien’s otherwise always offensively defensive personality.

  Blake chuckled. “No, I didn’t rob a bank. I just…got lucky. It’s complicated.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I have to go, Darien. I’m meeting someone.”

  “I don’t see your mysterious friend? The one I bet paid your medical bills.” Darien asked, looking across the park. “I’ve seen you hanging out with him before.”

  Blake frowned, unsure of whom Darien was hinting at. “Who?”

  “Don’t play dumb. I’ve seen you with him, the creepy-ass black-haired guy who always wears a black suit.”

  Blake chuckled. “Um, first off, he’s not creepy, and second, he’s like, um, a big brother.”

  “As in the program?”

  “Sure,” Blake answered and nodded, hoping it would shut him up.

  Then, Darien’s eyes narrowed. “You’re lying. You’re working with the Feds on some crime thing, maybe even Blue Spekter. You saw something, didn’t you? Big Brothers don’t relocate you and buy you fancy BMWs.”

  Wow, I thought Quinn and I had crazy imaginations.

  Blake rolled his eyes. “I’ll see you later, Darien. Goodbye.”

  “Hey, I’m not done talking to you!” Darien shouted, turning several heads in the park. Blake stopped, sighed, and turned back to face Darien, who shoved him. “You think I want to be your fucking babysitter? I’m only doing this because my dad will beat the living shit out of me if I don’t. So, stop being a mysterious little prick and tell me what you’ve been doing.”

  End the little puke, once and for all.

  Blake stepped forward. “I’m warning you, Darien; back off!”

  No, don’t!

  “No,” Darien responded by sneering and stepping closer. “Not this time, fuck face.”

  “Blake!” Ravone shouted with alarm.

  Blake turned to look behind him and Darien seized the moment.

  “You’re not good enough for her, you lowlife piece of white trash,” Darien snarled.

  “What did you call me?” Blake exclaimed, stunned at Darien’s dark side.

  “Enjoy your date, ass wipe.” Darien’s face twisted with rage and his eyebrows pulled down in anger. Then, his hands shot up and slapped the bottoms of the latte cups. They upturned, spilling hot coffee all over Blake’s face. The steaming hot liquid ran down the inside and outside of his leather motorcycle jacket, nearly scalding his face and chest.

  Blake screamed in agony and staggered backward, desperately swiping the burning hot liquid from his face. His skin instantly felt itchy as it started healing.

  “You son-of-a-bitch!” he roared as his temper snapped and rage coursed through his veins. The lawn at his feet scorched, but no one noticed. He pulled his clenched hands back, ready to pounce. “I’ll fucking kill you!” He inhaled, ready to strike, but then cried out in agony as the pain at the back of his head surged with a strange clicking sound and immobilized him.

  What the hell?

  “Blake, don’t!” Ravone yelled in panic, stepping between him and Darien, her hands crossed in front of her face. Blake saw Darien and Ravone’s mouths drop open in surprise as he fell, unconscious before he hit the ground.

  Moments later, Blake gasped and sucked down a lungful of air, surprising the gawkers around him. They jumped back, startled by his sudden awakening.

  “Blake!” Ravone exclaimed, tears running down her face. “Are you okay?”

  He blinked at her, unable to respond. His breathing became rapid and shallow and his body shuddered, his fingers and feet twitching uncontrollably like his nervous system was short-circuiting.

  “Can’t…breathe…” he managed to whisper.

  “Blake, try to relax, you’re in some kind of shock,” Ravone said.

  “The ambulance is on its way,” someone said.

  “No!” Blake uttered. No hospitals!

  “Is he having a seizure?” an older woman asked. “Cushion his head and make sure his airway is clear, but don’t put your fingers in his mouth.”

  Blake needed to fill his lungs with air but his spasmodic breathing prevented him from inhaling enough oxygen. He groaned, feeling saliva froth in his mouth. All he saw was Ravone’s worried face jerking around in his disrupted vision.

  “Are you a doctor?” Ravone asked, desperation filling her voice. Her voice sounded echoey, or hollow.

  “No, but my daughter has seizures…this looks like a seizure to me.” The woman’s voice sounded strange as well.

  Whatever…you do…don’t lose control…don’t hurt Ravone…she’s your friend.

  “What a loser,” Darien said, his voice echoing in Blake’s head.

  How the hell…did you…do this to me?

  “You watch your mouth!” the elderly woman snapped. “This young man could be dying and it’s because you slapped his drinks on him. We all saw you. Who do you think would go to prison for murder if he dies?”

  “What if he’s in anaphylactic shock?” someone else asked.

  “He’s not allergic to coffee,” Ravone shouted.

  Blake felt his fingers tense into claws and his toes curled in his shoes. What…is…happening…to me…?

  Then, he coughed up air and spat up saliva. His body stopped twitching and relaxed.

  The pain…it’s gone…

  He inhaled a deep breath, filled with new life, vigor, and raw power.

  Something’s different.

  After a second and third breath, he sat upright, startling the crowd of gawkers again. Ravone, who had been squatting, fell backward on her buttocks, surprised.

  “Take it easy, Blake. The ambulance is almost here.”

  I’m different.

  He ignored Ravone and looked around, then pushed himself to his feet.

  Where the hell is that weasel?

  He looked around the crowd but did not see Darien. Then, out of the corner
of his eye, he saw the bully running out of the park toward Marcy Street. He paused on the sidewalk to let a medium-sized dump truck go by before he crossed the street.

  Motivated by anger and frustration, Blake grimaced and flicked the fingers of his right hand. Darien flailed his arms and stumbled out into the road in front of the moving truck. Airbrakes groaned and tires screeched as the driver tried to stop the truck, but his efforts were in vain.

  The truck collided with Darien and sent him tumbling to the ground. He shouted and landed with a sickening thud. Everyone turned to see what was going on, and people gasped in shock and awe.

  “Oh my gosh, Darien got hit by a truck!” Ravone exclaimed, jumping to her feet.

  “He deserves it.” Blake stated flatly. And it felt really good to hurt him.

  Ravone glared at him.

  He looked at his hands and felt raw power, drive, a new feeling of being alive he had never experience before. “The problem with scum like Darien is they never learn. They pretend to be your friend, but in reality, they’ll never stop being scum.”

  “That’s a terrible thing to say,” Ravone snapped at him.

  Blake looked at her and shrugged. “It’s terrible because you don’t like it or because it’s true?”

  She silently glared at him, fuming behind angry eyes.

  “I have to go.” I really enjoyed pushing Darien out there…why didn’t I do that before?

  “But, the ambulance is coming for you!” she whined.

  Blake smiled. “I’m not the one who needs the ambulance now. I’m fine,” he responded, snapping his fingers and wiggling his eyebrows. “I’ll see you later.” He started to walk away, but Ravone grabbed his arm.

  “What about our date in the park?” she asked, hurt and disappointment on her face and in her voice.

  Blake sighed and looked her in the eyes. “Look, Ravone, I don’t know what I was thinking when I agreed to this. It’s not gonna happen, okay?” Then, with a flat tone, he added, “You need to get over me.” He turned and walked away from her.

  Ravone chased after him, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Blake! What is wrong with you? What happened when you fell down?

  “Nothing, I’m fine. I have to go,” he answered, refusing to slow down when she tugged at his arm again.

  “I saw your eyes glow orange when you were ready to hit Darien, not to mention you felt really hot. I could feel heat coming from you, Blake!”

  An evil grin spread across his face. He rounded on her in anger. “You know what, Ravone? I might have had a tinge of regret about what I just said because maybe, just maybe, I wanted to give us a chance. Now, I see I can’t do that because you’re the nagging girl who will only get in my way. If you tell anyone what you saw, I’ll…” he stopped, surprised at the words that almost came out of his mouth. Whoa, that was almost way too easy to say…

  Ravone backed away, shaking her head in disbelief at him. Blake frowned at her and then turned away for the last time and left her alone in the park to cry silently.

  ❖

  Blake shut the door to his Coupe, pressed the start button, and listened as the powerful engine roared to life. A moment later, soft music started playing from the high-fidelity sound system.

  He bent his head down and felt the back of his neck with his right hand.

  It feels fine.

  I still feel fine.

  In fact, I feel better than fine. What happened back there?

  Blake inhaled and smelled pumpkin spiced latte. He looked down and winced. The wet coffee had soaked down his shirt and into the front of his pants and underwear.

  Gross. At least the car seats are leather.

  He relaxed his arm and leaned his head back and watched the ambulance pull up. Instead of looking for a seizure victim in the park, the paramedics focused on Darien, who had managed to sit up on his own. It looked like his right arm had broken when he hit the pavement.

  Blake smirked.

  Guess I was right; his phone wouldn’t be the only thing to get broken. I should feel bad, but I don’t. That little puke had it coming.

  He put the Coupe in gear and drove home.

  ❖

  Victor

  “What have you got for me?” Victor asked, staring at the images of Arek and Miguel on his computer terminal.

  They looked at each other, then Miguel spoke.

  “We had a little downtime and took the liberty of exploring the reactor panels that Dark Flame moved around when the boys tried to sabotage the core. We worked with the assumption that he moved all the panels. Interestingly, when we examined the backside of the panels, we noticed they were inscribed with a set of out-of-sequence numeric codes. When we pulled off the neighboring ones, we found a pattern and realized the numeric sequence was broken. An hour and sixty panels later, we started sketching out the codes and discovered they were location codes.”

  “What does this mean?” Victor asked.

  “It means panels were all in the wrong spots.”

  “Well, we know that. Blake moved them all around.”

  “Right, but we think the numerical code implies the panel’s specific location in relation to the rest of the panels.”

  Victor stared at him blankly. “Meaning?”

  Arek spoke up. “We want to pull down every single panel and notate its numerical identifier. Then, we’ll run some calculations and figure out where each panel is supposed to go and place it there.”

  “Don’t you think that will only return the panels to their previous configuration?”

  Arek shook his head. “No, I think the codes have been a long-lost secret about the optimal position for each panel because we’ve never pulled the panels off before. Even the cleaning process doesn’t remove the panels from the walls. If we get this right, each one will be reset to the original design specifications and possibly increase orgone production.”

  Victor raised an eyebrow. “Why wouldn’t they have been in that position initially? Do you think someone sabotaged the reactor?”

  Arek and Miguel looked at one another and frowned. Then, Arek answered Victor’s question. “We didn’t exactly say that, but the panels are definitely in the wrong spot now, as they might have been before Dark Flame tampered with the core. All I know is, the engineers who designed this place intended for each panel to be in a specific location. We think we should undo what Blake did and if we stumble across something big, we’ll revert the core to its original specs.”

  “How long will that take?” Victor asked.

  They shrugged as they looked at one another, then Miguel spoke. “About three weeks maybe? If you’re worried about the delays in the updated reconstruction schedule, this shouldn’t impact the new timeline.”

  “So, you either completely screw up the reactor or increase its capacity?”

  Arek shook his head. “It’s a safe bet we won’t screw up the reactor since it works regardless of where the panels are. If our hunch is right, every panel has a specific location written in code on the back. We just need to figure out what that code is and place each one correctly. The end result of our theory is dramatically increased orgone production.”

  Victor shrugged. “Well, I’m all for that, but do it in two weeks if you can.”

  7 | The Enemy of my Enemy is my Friend

  Quinn

  During the shared free period the next day in school, Quinn shut the door behind him and walked over to Mr. St. Germain’s desk.

  “What’s up?” his teacher asked, pulling himself away from grading papers. “You look glum today.”

  He shrugged. “I’m okay, but I have a couple ideas about the, uh, super suit.” I don’t want to get into what’s been going on in school this week.

  Mr. St. Germain set his red pen down and folded his hands together on the desk and smiled. “I’m all ears. Discussing super suits is way more exciting than grading biology tests.”

  Quinn smiled back. “I think I need two versions of it.”

  Mr.
St. Germain tilted his head to the side, his eyebrows furling with interest. “Okay, go on.”

  “When there’s an immediate emergency, I typically show up wearing whatever I’m wearing. I think it would be cool to have a Spider-Man type body suit that I can wear under my clothes or quickly change into. While I really like the BMX jacket you got me, carrying around leather pants and the jacket means, well, I always have to carry a duffel bag around or leave it somewhere and always go to a base of operations I don’t have.”

  Mr. St. Germain leaned back in his chair and stroked his beard. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  Quinn burst into laughter. “You’re kidding! I finally discovered something superhero-related you haven’t actually thought about yet?”

  Mr. St. Germain chuckled and shook his head. “Honestly, no. I was thinking more along the lines of Batman who changes into a suit in the Batcave, or Iron Man who can bring a suit to him. Clearly, what you need is something like Superman, Spider-man, Green Lantern, or even the Flash. Somehow, their suits are already on or around them at all times.”

  Quinn nodded. “I’m not sure wearing a spandex bodysuit would be the most comfortable thing. Besides, it will be hard to hide that in the locker room at school and from my dads at home.”

  “Have you considered telling your dads that you’re the amazing and invincible Blue Spekter?”

  Quinn shook his head. “No, because you told me not to.”

  “Right, but as a parent of little kids, I’ve had a change of heart because I wouldn’t want my future sixteen-year-old lying to me. Maybe I haven’t told you yet.”

  Quinn shrugged. “I think you had the right idea because not telling them keeps them out of danger.”

  Mr. St. Germain chuckled. “You forget, it’s not like Victor doesn’t know who you are and where you live. He already met your dads in the hospital at Rangeley.”

  “Crap, you’re right.”

  “One way or the other, if Victor wants to manipulate you, he could. Maybe telling your dads would be a good thing.”

  “I’ll think about it.”