The Rise of Dark Flame

by Damien Benoit-Ledoux

  His hands clenched into fists and his arms became rigid with anger at his sides. The four security guards regarded him strangely.

  “Sir, you can’t park here,” one of the guards said.

  Blake dismissed the man with his mind, throwing him thirty feet across the yard. He stared down the other three guards.

  “I don’t see a problem with him parking there, do you guys?” Roger quickly asked. The other two guards shook their heads emphatically and shrugged, backing away a few paces.

  Cowards.

  Blake entered the building and made his way through the facility to Victor’s office. Security nodded at him and regarded him with fear and curiosity—a sign Victor knew he was coming.

  Blake approached the open office door and marched into the office, not stopping in the doorway like he usually did.

  Victor raised an eyebrow at him. He sat at his desk with his hands clasped together, his computer keyboard pushed out of the way. “The guards tell me you might be upset…”

  “Upset?” Blake roared, his hands shaking with anger. The glass of a picture frame hanging on the wall shattered and exploded, raining glass upon the floor. Heat radiated from his body.

  Victor’s eyes shifted to the picture, then back to Blake.

  “There were children working in that factory,” Blake shouted.

  “I know.”

  “You knew?” Blake asked incredulously.

  Victor frowned. “Of course. I sent you down there, remember? I knew exactly what you’d discover. Clearly, I made a mistake. It seems it was too much, too soon.”

  “What?” Blake asked, shocked at Victor’s dismissive attitude.

  “You can’t handle it, Blake. And if you want proof, examine how you’re acting right now, storming in here like you suddenly own the place and think you’re going to get what you want because you’re pissed off.”

  You asshat.

  Blake raised his hand and reached out, grabbing Victor by the body and throat. He lifted him up and over his desk, then pulled Victor toward him, his feet dragging across the desktop until his fingers were wrapped around the man’s neck. Victor sputtered and coughed, struggling to free himself from the powerful hand squeezing his airway shut. As with Big Boss, blackness leached into Victor’s veins, creeping away from his tightening hand.

  “I’m almost done playing your little games, Victor.”

  The man tried to shout, but he only gagged and choked on air. He frantically clawed at Blake’s arm, desperation flashing across his paling face.

  “You may have just come into power within The Order, but I cleared the way for you by taking out Mother Superior. You’d be wise to remember that.”

  Victor gagged and more of the strange blackness filled the surface veins of the man’s now ashen-looking neck and facial skin.

  “It was me who freely chose to play along with your elaborate ruse to take over The Order. I chose to bring Quinn to you, but you failed to convince him to join us. You may think I played a small part in your elaborate game, but this chessboard will be mine to dominate—and I will when the moment is right. Don’t think you can ever outsmart me, Victor. You’re just the ambitious fool who forgot he was working with a superhuman.”

  Blake felt a surge of life and energy pass into his body. He let Victor go and dropped him to the floor. Immediately, Victor breathed in deeply and the color returned to his eyes and skin.

  Victor pushed himself up to his hands and knees and mumbled something, but Blake couldn’t hear him.

  “What?”

  The man rubbed his Adam’s apple and cleared his throat, then spoke hoarsely, “Freeze asset one.”

  Blake frowned. “What?” he asked again.

  “Freeze asset one!” Victor said with more determination.

  Blake shook his head. “Whatever, Victor.”

  Victor looked at him incredulously, but Blake ignored him and walked out of his office.

  ❖

  After a late dinner alone at the Riverhouse restaurant, angry lightning flashed across the sky over Portsmouth harbor as Blake steered his coupe into the private garage under his condo unit. An unusually late fall thunderstorm with high winds ravaged the area that night, and Blake suspected Victor was up to something at the facility.

  What the hell are you up to, Victor? We shouldn’t have a thunderstorm this late in the season…and there’s no thunder-snow going on, either. Maybe he’s charging…or recharging the reactor?

  He wasn’t sure which because he didn’t understand the mega-fusion technology, but he still believed Victor wouldn’t test it on a newer reactor core; the stakes would be too high if they failed. When the car stopped, he put the car into park and pressed the start/stop button. He cleared his throat to stave off the strong wave of emotions he felt bubbling up inside him as the faces of innocent people from the factory flashed through his mind’s eye.

  Blake climbed out of the car and made his way to the elevator, his footsteps echoing in the concrete garage. Outside, the wind whipped and whistled through the leafless tree limbs and houses as cracks of thunder rolled across the sky with bright lightning flashes. He pressed the button for the elevator, which opened immediately. He entered and pressed the button for the top floor. Leaning against the back wall of the elevator car, he closed his eyes as the door slid shut and the elevator ascended.

  Shutting his eyes was a mistake because the haunting images from his afternoon adventure filled his mind’s eye once more. He saw flashing images of the terrified, forlorn faces of the immigrant men, women, and children who were struggling to make a decent living in the illegal drug factory. It was the children’s faces that bothered him the most; the ones old enough to fold boxes, the ones big enough to check things on the conveyor belt, and the infants in bassinets next to mothers with no choice but to work as little more than slaves to some mega yet-to-be discovered crime lord. The experience unnerved him more than he realized; something he should have picked up on as Chappy drove him and a silent Radoslav back from Boston.

  Victor was right, there’s a whole side of life I’m completely oblivious to. I cannot believe how much of the world is filled with filth and lies. If The Order exists to punish people like that, then I’m definitely in with the right crowd. Still, I feel compelled to act beyond Victor’s vision…to chase down and stop whoever runs that place and free those people…those children…

  He felt emotions well up behind his eyes once more, but he clenched his fists and bit his tongue to distract him. He didn’t want to lose it outside of his condo. Moments later, the elevator chimed and the door slid open. Blake stepped out, only to be startled by the girl he had seen before on his floor a week or so ago.

  “Hi,” she said, smiling. Her hand came up and she twirled her hair. “I’m glad to see…”

  “It’s not a good time,” Blake said, desperate to keep his voice from wavering. He rushed past her and didn’t look back.

  “Oh, um, is everything okay?” she asked.

  Blake ignored her and waved his key fob near the door handle. When it unlocked with a beep, he slipped inside and shut the door behind him. He exhaled, relaxed his fingers, and leaned back against the closed door as emotions overtook him.

  His legs buckled and he slid to the floor, sobbing. The sad, innocent faces of the children unpacking, repacking, sorting, and shipping drugs along the conveyor belts flashed in his mind again, and he let the tears flow. He heard them screaming, yelling at one another in sheer panic and fear in languages he didn’t recognize as they huddled for safety or ran out of the building. Blake accepted Victor needed to shock him, to have him see something that would galvanize him into action and embed him in The Order even deeper.

  But what’s next for these people? What will they do tomorrow? How will they get paid if they can’t get jobs? Did I just screw up their lives?

  No!

  Don’t think like that; people like Big Boss need to be stopped and punished, no matter the cost. They can’t be allowed to to
rture people like that. I need to…rise up…and be who I’m meant to be. I need to find my place in The Order, fast. Being Victor’s errand boy isn’t enough for me any more.

  Then, Blake’s mind replayed the final moments of Big Boss’ life, when Blake incinerated him. He stopped sobbing and gritted his teeth together.

  The Order is not enough anymore; they might have the tools to get me going, but in the end…they should be working for me. When the time is right, I’m going to take over and there’s nothing they can do to stop me…there’s nothing anyone can do to stop me. It’s time to bring justice to the ones who exploit human life…time for the world to know who Dark Flame really is.

  A brilliant flash of lightning and an ear-splitting crack of thunder overhead roused Blake from his thoughts. He wiped his eyes with his fingers and stared out the windows of his dark condo. More lightning flashed, accompanied by angry, rolling thunder. He pushed himself up from the floor and walked to the French doors in his living room.

  “What are you doing, Victor?” he asked aloud, staring into the night. Noticing it had not started raining, he opened the French doors and stepped onto the balcony. The wind howled around him and lightning flashed. Blake felt something unusual in the air around him. He put his hand out, spread his fingers, and concentrated on the sensation.

  I can feel the orgone energy in the air, like Quinn noticed when we rearranged the panels in the Rangeley reactor.

  Another loud crack of thunder rumbled overhead, and he looked up into the sky. Lightning in the sky high above illuminated the churning turmoil of angry storm clouds bearing down on Portsmouth. He looked across the Naval Shipyard on Seavey Island to the old prison, but he couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Besides, the shipyard buildings blocked his view of the facility.

  He frowned, then shook his head. Soon enough, I’ll figure out what Victor’s up to.

  9 | Goodwin Park

  Quinn

  After everything in the coffee shop had been cleaned up and reset for the next day, Quinn and his coworkers left around ten-thirty at night and said their goodbyes. Outside, the cold air smelled of rain and Quinn hoped he could walk back to his car before it poured. A popular afternoon and evening festival jammed Pleasant Street and Market Square, disrupting Saturday night traffic and the downtown area at the beginning of Quinn’s shift. Thus, finding a parking spot had been exceptionally challenging for all the employees and regular patrons. Quinn began his nearly one-mile walk to Cass Street where he had parked his dad’s SUV. He put his ear buds in and pressed play on his phone, becoming lost in the music.

  I could fly there, but there are too many people about right now.

  Around him, Market Square was bustling with loud, laughing college students and local folks who were barhopping and enjoying a night out. Quinn made his way through the busyness and walked down State Street and crossed into the quieter, residential area beyond Middle Street. Most of the cars that had jammed the parking areas were now gone and residents began returning their cars to their usual parking spots. Quinn still had several blocks to go when a strange noise caught his attention. He pulled his earbuds out of his ears and listened.

  Silence.

  He frowned, thinking he had heard things. That’s weird.

  Then, a woman screamed and a man cried out in pain, but his voice seemed muffled. Quinn ran at super speed to the edge of Goodwin Park, where he thought the noise had come from. He stopped and listened, pocketing his earbuds.

  Come on, make another noise already.

  He looked around and watched for signs of movement.

  Nothing.

  Dammit, they’re not here.

  Then, his super vision detected motion to the right side of the park where it was dark and isolated, surrounded by bushes and a copse of trees.

  “Please, stop! You’re hurting him!” a woman exclaimed.

  “Shut up!” a gruff voice yelled.

  Three individuals in dark clothing were standing around a woman. A fifth person was rolling on the ground in the fetal position, grunting in pain as two of the thugs kicked him.

  The tallest man lunged at the woman and grabbed at her, but she screamed and swatted at him with her hands raised in self-defense. His free hand came up hard and fast, and he slapped her across the face. She spun and fell to her knees. Then, the man grabbed her and pulled her back to her feet.

  Holy crap!

  Quinn tossed his gym bag under a bush and ran toward them. “Hey! What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  The three thugs stopped and stared at Quinn with surprise. The tall one laughed. “Beat it, kid, or you’re next.”

  “It’s too late,” the second man argued, “he’s already seen us.”

  “Fine. Grab him.”

  “You need to leave them alone,” Quinn shouted back, louder than he anticipated.

  The tall man—clearly the ringleader—pulled a gun from his waist and cocked it. “And why should we?”

  “You brought a gun?” the third thug asked, clearly surprised.

  “Of course. One can’t be too careful these days, especially with the two super freaks running around the town. You never know when you might bump into them. Hey kid, get over here, now!”

  So, they know about Blake…interesting.

  Quinn smiled, but the thugs didn’t see it in the dark. He obeyed and walked forward confidently. “That’s right, jerk face, you never know when you might run into Blue Spekter.” Then, he powered on his eyes and their blue light illuminated the darkness.

  The man with the gun smiled and pointed it at the girl. The other two thugs swore and cried out with panic, their postures changing from intimidation to defense.

  Now’s when I wish I could use telekinesis like Blake…

  The gunman yelled at him. “If you think you’re going to save them, forget it. Leave us alone or I shoot her in five seconds.”

  “Really?” Blue Spekter asked. “You’re going to play that game with me?”

  “Three seconds.”

  Blue Spekter reached out with his mind and extended a force field between the man and the woman. He pulled moisture out of the cold air around the man and froze the man’s hand in place around his gun.

  “What the fuck?” the man said, letting the woman go. Blue Spekter sped toward her and then pulled her away from the ring leader.

  “Stay here and you’ll be safe.” Blue Spekter said, his body now glowing brightly.

  “My boyfriend…” the woman whispered.

  “Call 911 if you can,” Blue Spekter responded.

  “You two, take him down!” the leader said, yelling at his men. “Fuck, this is cold.” He smacked his iced-over hand on the ground, but he cried out in pain.

  One of the men charged at Blue Spekter, but he super-ran toward the thug and punched him hard in the stomach. The man fell to the ground and gasped, struggling to breathe.

  Blue Spekter pointed his hands at the man and blasted his wrists and ankles with ice, freezing them together by creating a set of ice handcuffs to immobilize the thug.

  The ringleader yelled angrily, distracting Blue Spekter. The gun in his hand fired into the ground, and the ice exploded from his hand. With rage in his dark eyes, he aimed at Blue Spekter and fired several shots. The bullets became stuck in Blue Spekter’s invisible defensive shield and hovered in the air. He eyed the bullets briefly.

  Those look funny.

  They were white and looked smashed, not pointed. A moment later, the gun clicked, indicating it was empty.

  “Nice try,” Blue Spekter said as the bullets felt the ground. Then, with super speed, he charged at the ringleader, stopping inches from the man’s face. “Boo.”

  The thug shrieked as Blue Spekter ripped the gun from his hand. Then, he delivered a swift uppercut to the man’s face. As the man spun around in pain, Blue Spekter blasted him with freezing ice and shackled the man to the ground.

  He turned around and faced the third man. “What will you do?”


  “Absolutely nothing,” he answered, putting his hands up in surrender as he backed away.

  “Good, but I can’t let you go.”

  “Okay,” the man responded, his voice squeaking.

  “Put your hands together in front of you.”

  The man complied and Blue Spekter shackled the man in ice. “The police will be here in a moment and…”

  Something clicked.

  He spun around and stared at the woman, who pointed a weapon at him. What the heck?

  She fired.

  Too surprised to react, Blue Spekter felt set of electrodes stick into his chest, delivering fifty thousand volts of power through his body. His body involuntarily reacted, tensing and submitting to the painful charge. His fingers tightened into fists and his arms flailed out at his sides. He fought to remain standing, but fell to one knee.

  A moment later, the injured victim on the ground sprung to life, jumped to his feet, and fired a second taser at him. Blue Spekter cried out as an additional charge surged through him, causing his torso to twist and convulse.

  Come on, get over yourself, you overcame electrical attacks in the Rangeley facility…

  “Target acquired,” the woman said into her sleeve. “Move in, now.”

  Holy shit, is this another kidnapping attempt? Dammit, Applegate!

  Floodlights hidden in parked cars switched on and illuminated the area where Blue Spekter and the ice-bound thugs struggled. He heard car doors opening and closing as footsteps ran across the grass and the paved paths of Goodwin Park.

  These things are all actors and agents!

  “TaseBolts at the ready,” someone shouted. “Take aim!”

  Blue Spekter grunted, gritting his teeth. “Why…are…you…doing…this?” he shouted. The electrical pain surging through his body added a staccato effect to his speech.

  “Fire!” someone shouted.

  Blue Spekter tried to put his invisible shield in place, but he was in too much pain to concentrate. Multiple, focused blasts of white-hot energy slammed into his body, fired from weapons he had never seen before, carried by black-clad agents advancing on his position. Blue Spekter fell forward, but caught himself with his hands.