Moreover, Donovan’s perusal of Benny Lonero’s file at the Valis Institute database indicated he might eventually become a suspect, though likely not right away. It was probable a group comprised of a few fellow athletes from a rival school, or of members from the emerging street gangs in the city, would be considered more logical culprits. At least initially, that is.
Donovan then realized he had to leave the scene, because time was now very much of the essence. Benny was out there somewhere, obviously in a state of extreme emotional distress. Claire didn’t yet know how great his power level was, but she said it appeared to her psychic senses to be “off the scale.” If so, that would potentially make Benny an omega level metahuman. He knew Claire’s penchant for dramatics did not include a similar proclivity for exaggeration. Benny had to be found before something truly tragic happened.
As Donovan left the school grounds, he activated a secure line on his watch communicator. “Len, we have a situation here. I need a team of about four men, with a suit of plex body armor and U-3 model plasma rifles prepared for each of us. That’s five, if you had trouble counting.
We’re damn lucky those plasma rifles started working as intended following the Warp Event in Austin last year. And I need all this yesterday.
“You also need to get Agent Boone on the horn and tell her that she needs to find our quarry’s location fast, even if that means she has to use those cerebral enhancement drugs. She has my full authorization for that, and I’ll take full responsibility for any possible consequences. Agent Jakes out.”
Donovan let out an exasperated sigh as he closed communications. Dammit, kid, you better be salvageable. If not, a lot of people are going to be in a world of festering horse dung. I know you’re in a lot of pain, so please don’t make me have to end you. And please be so kind as to refrain from ending me, or any of my team.
Chapter 7: The Point of No Return
Obviously, Marissa Robbins had never given Benny her home address. However, he was aware that several of her friends and partners-in-hate against him did indeed have that information. At the very least, her number was in the address book of their respective cell phones. To acquire it, though, he would have to force it out of one of her friends.
Considering his current state of mind, and the way most of her friends had always treated him, Benny was more than willing to go this route. He also knew exactly where he could reliably locate at least one of these friends.
Several of his classmates frequently congregated for socialization at the Crimson Room, a club located close to their school. It was geared entirely towards serving teens eighteen and under and was known to be rather rough despite billing itself as an “alcohol free zone” for obvious legal reasons.
Because many of his chief tormenters were among the usual patrons of that club, Benny avoided it like the meeker residents of a South American jungle would avoid the territory of a cannibal tribe. He always resented being ostracized from such a popular social atmosphere, and he couldn’t help evincing a pang of dark satisfaction at finally being able to enter the location without fear for his safety.
Revenge would be sweet, and thoughts of it were effectively beating back the conscience that was desperately struggling within Benny Lonero to quell the path he was now treading towards.
***
A large but nondescript SUV was driving around the West Utica Street area of Buffalo’s East Side with an extremely important purpose. Within its spacious interior was Donovan Jakes, accompanied by four other armed agents of the Valis Institute, one of whom was driving. Sitting next to Donovan in the back seats of the van was the now anxiety-ridden super psychic Claire Boone.
“Do you sense his presence anywhere around here, Claire?” Donovan asked his partner with clearly mounting impatience.
“I’m trying to pick up details, but you’re making me really freaking nervous, Donovan!” she replied in irate fashion. “Do you know how dangerous it is to confront a metahuman with this level of power?”
“Do you know how dangerous it is to others, not to mention Benny himself, if we don’t confront him, Claire? This is a steep responsibility, and you agreed to the requirements of this job along with the rest of us when you joined the Institute. So, you need to pull yourself out of this funk.”
“Donovan, I signed on as a member of the Esper Division for detecting potential metahuman manifestations, I’m not a goddamned soldier! All of us are likely to get killed! Why couldn’t I stay back at the base and report on what I sensed of his whereabouts via communicator?”
“Because your abilities are less efficient and accurate from a distance, damn it! Claire, I need you to get hold of yourself. You may not be a soldier, but you’re really needed here in the field. The crew here needs you… and so does Benny. We have to find him and stop him from doing whatever he’s planning to do before something horrifically tragic for everyone involved happens.”
“How are you and a mere four soldiers going to stop him?”
“Because despite his level of power, these abilities are very new to him, and he’s likely unable to make full use of his capabilities at this time. He also has no training yet, whereas the five of us are veterans at combat situations. We’ve also received a few years of additional training geared towards dealing with dangerous metahumans, and we’re armed with special weaponry designed to handle extra-conventional threats, most of which didn’t even work before the Warp Events allowed such tech to become functional. There is still no guarantee we’ll come out of this intact, but…”
“Which means its highly experimental weaponry, Donovan! How often has that equipment or your training really been put to the test?”
“Dammit, Claire, you listen to me!”
Donovan’s voice trailed off for a moment before he sighed and continued.
“Claire, we all need to put ourselves on the line here because as far as we know, Benny may be worth it. The police aren’t trained or well equipped to deal with the likes of this, at least not in a way that will minimize casualties. This is our job, and however unprepared you may think we are, we’re certainly much more prepared than the conventional authorities. I know you’re scared, and you have good reason to be, but you must get hold of yourself because we need you. Okay?”
Donovan placed a reassuring hand on the trembling Claire’s shoulder. She sucked in a lungful of air and nodded weakly.
“Okay. I can do this. Just let me concentrate, alright?”
“Certainly. And thank you, Claire. Thank you so much. You don’t have to be a soldier to be brave.”
***
Given his current level of energy and speed, it didn’t take very long for Benny to make his way on foot to the door of the Crimson Room.
Forcing himself to look as nonchalant as possible despite his state of emotional anguish, the newly evolved young metahuman entered the establishment for the first time. The two always alert security guards on watch looked at him oddly, as he was an unfamiliar face; however, it wasn’t all that unusual for new teen patrons to enter the club.
At first, the alert guards glared in the newbie’s direction as if sensing something “off” about the newbie, and Benny found himself hoping he wouldn’t have to deal with them as he did with two of his tormenters earlier that day. After all, he understood they were just employees doing their job to keep the patrons and property of the club safe.
Fortunately for the bouncers, they shrugged off their “sixth sense” feelings of unease since Benny was a relatively short and fairly skinny kid that didn’t look like any kind of threat. Moreover, the metal detectors at the entrance registered no firearm or bladed weapons on him. Little did they know, however, that the strange boy in their midst was a veritable living weapon, packing unimaginable firepower within his altered cellular structure.
Having casually gained ingress to the club, Benny walked around scoping the premises for certain familiar—but unfriendly--faces. He saw many stunningly attractive girls on the dance floor with t
heir arms wrapped around boys, and occasionally each other. Some of them were engaging in what was popularly called “twerking” with their fellow dancers, and all of them were dressed to impress.
Benny began seething with a combination of yearning and envy upon observing this pleasurable and fun interaction between boys who were many popularity levels above him, and attractive girls who would almost certainly shun him with all due prejudice if he attempted such public intimacy with them.
That’s all going to change soon. Because, to paraphrase a certain comic book character: you just hit the jackpot, tiger! And Lord help anyone who tries to deny you access to this aspect of life anymore.
As Benny admired the beautiful bodies of the girls who were variously gyrating on the dance floor and chatting with friends at the juice bar, his gaze finally came upon a male peer whom he recognized. He gritted his teeth in anger as his eyes locked on the haughtily smiling mien of Les Gurgleworth. Despite this boy’s blatant lack of good looks, he was accepted by the “in” crowd for reasons Benny didn’t readily understand, but likely had to do with the fact that his way of thinking and acting was in no way “outside the box” (one thing Benny had learned was that cruelty and intolerance were acceptably “inside” the proverbial box). This fact was made clear by the several girls who gave Les affectionate hugs and clamored to take turns sitting on his lap.
Knowing this adversary of his was part of the popular social circle that included Marissa, Benny walked just close enough to be noticed by Les. The latter glowered at the very unexpected interloper with a look of incredulity, as if he couldn’t believe that this social pariah dared to enter the Crimson Room. Benny responded with a sarcastic grin and a stiff projection of his middle finger in Les’s direction. He then turned and headed towards the boys’ washroom.
“Omg, do you know that assmunch, Les?” the girl presently sitting on his lap queried. “I’ve never seen that dork in here before. Why did he flip you the bird like that?”
“That’s Benny Lonero,” Les responded with grating anger in his voice. “I can’t believe he walked in here. He gave me the finger? He seriously gave me the finger? In here? Could he really be that incredibly retarded?”
“Go kick his ass, Les!” another girl zealously insisted. “Security won’t see it go down in the pisser.”
“Just wait here,” he said as he headed towards the men’s room. “I’ll be right back.”
Les entered the bathroom to find it occupied only by Benny, who was standing in front of one of the filthy porcelain urinals. He wasn’t relieving himself, however; he was just standing there with his back to the entrance, as if patiently waiting for someone to enter. That someone had just done so.
Les wasted no time engaging Benny. “Lonero, what the hell are you doing in this club? And who the hell do you think you are for giving me the finger? Do you want to die or something?”
Benny simply stood there quietly, as if he didn’t consider Les important enough to acknowledge.
Les became even more incensed at this apparent dismissal of the threat he tried to present. “Did you hear me? I’m talking to you, faggot!”
He stormed over to Benny and shoved him from behind. “Huh? Do you hear me?”
After pushing him a second time, Les was thoroughly startled when Benny turned around and seized him by the throat in a blur of motion. Before the popular young man could even consider an appropriate reaction, he found himself effortlessly slammed against the wall with sufficient force to crack the plaster. The degree of strength displayed by Benny was immense and extremely unexpected. Les had the wind knocked out of him, and the cheek under his right eye immediately began to swell into a purple mass. His throat felt as if a steel vise was tightly enclosed around it.
“Give me Marissa’s address, Gurgleworth,” Benny demanded with a coldly vicious tone.
“Oh man,” Les gasped, struggling to come to his senses. “Who – who – what? Do you mean Marissa Robbins?”
“What other Marissa do we both know, you snotwad!” Benny hollered as he bent Les’ left arm behind his back with enough force to inflict hairline fractures on the bone.
Les bellowed in agony, and Benny responded by painfully pulling his head back by the hair. It took a good effort of will for him to resist doing this hard enough to rip out a handful of follicles by their roots.
“Tell me or I’ll hurt you bad, Gurgleworth. Just like you and your friends always used to hurt me! And if I find out you lied, or you told anyone about this, I’ll come back for you. And nobody will stop me from getting my hands on your worthless, intolerant hide again. Nobody. Do you understand?”
“All right, all right, I’ll give it! Just don’t – don’t bend my arm anymore! Please, man.”
“Give up the address and I’ll stop. That’s more mercy than you ever showed me, you dick.”
The girls at the juice bar looked in the direction of the boys’ washroom with expressions of utter bafflement and dread since it was Benny, and not Les, who exited first. Even worse, Benny looked unscathed, and Les didn’t follow him out. They wisely declined to approach the young man as he quietly but fervently headed towards the front door of the club and left the establishment.
He walked as if he had a purpose, and unfortunately for Marissa Robbins and her family, that purpose was a trip to their place of residence.
***
About fifteen minutes following Benny’s departure from the Crimson Room, a certain specially designed but inconspicuous-looking SUV pulled up outside the teen club.
“Are you sure he was here, Claire?” Donovan asked his psychic colleague.
“Yes!” she replied fretfully. “He was! If he’s not in there now, he was in there very recently. I’m sure of it. His psychic energy signature is like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. Oh my god, Donovan, please please be careful. His energies are so strong that he could still be in there!”
Donovan gently but firmly grabbed Claire by the shoulders before full-fledged panic could set in and overwhelm her. “Claire… chill, okay? Just focus on the task at hand, and let’s do our job. We need to get in there now, but you can stay in the van, okay?”
She nodded while taking deep breathes to staunch an oncoming panic attack. Just in case, though, she began reaching for a bottle of mild prescription sedatives she kept handy in her coat pocket.
“Alright, people, let’s head out,” Donovan addressed his four-man-and-woman team of discreet, specially-trained-and armed soldiers. “And like Claire said, be careful; we’re facing a very powerful and very emotionally distraught young metahuman.”
The crew simultaneously nodded an acknowledgement.
“We’re prepared, Col. Jakes,” Agent Brett Silver assured him.
“Let’s do this,” Agent Gail Parker said.
The five of them exited the SUV through sliding side doors, with Donovan in the lead. Just as they approached the door of the Crimson Room, the Valis task force suddenly heard the doors slide open behind them again. Claire cautiously stepped out of the vehicle, taking a series of deep gasps as she did so.
“I’m – I’m coming with you,” the potent esper said. “I need to – to be there for you.”
“Are you sure?” Donovan asked with respectful concern.
Claire nodded frantically, fighting to keep the courage ascendant over her fear. “Yes. Yes, I’m sure. I’m sure.”
Donovan and his four comrades-in-arms walked through the front door, their body armor hidden under long dark trench coats (though not a soldier, Claire wore a version of the body armor for safety’s sake, since she was in the field). Each of them was partially incognito by wearing simple but effectively distracting dark shades. The two security guards saw these strange adults enter the teen club and moved to intercept them.
“Hey, you can’t come in here!” one of them said as he grabbed Donovan by the shoulder.
“Yes, we can,” the battle-hardened soldier countered as he shoved an official-looking but bogus badg
e in the guard’s face. “We’re FBI, and we’re here to investigate one of your young patrons.”
The guards looked at the badge carefully, but neither was well-versed enough in official government credentials to determine its authenticity. And both knew the club didn’t need any trouble with the law, particularly from agents of the federal government.
“Who are you looking for, exactly?” the second guard asked.
Before Donovan could think of a convincing response, his attention was drawn to an injured Les Gurgleworth stumbling out of the boys’ bathroom. His left eye was almost swollen shut, with both eyes streaming tears. He was grasping one of his arms and was obviously injured, though not severely.
“Donovan, I sense his aura all over that boy, and I’m getting sensations of extreme pain from him…” Claire whispered to the leader of the Institute’s away team.
“We’re looking for him,” Donovan said to the guards while pointing at Les. He then turned to the four fellow soldiers that comprised his team. “See that the bouncers behave while I go talk to the boy. Agent Boone, you’re with me.”
As Les walked about awkwardly, not knowing what he should do next, he suddenly found himself accosted by a tall and handsome but mean-looking bearded man and a chestnut brunette woman with plain features but intense eyes.
“Young man, you need to come with us over there,” Donovan insisted, while gesturing towards an area of the club where no other patron was congregating. “Now.”
Not in any shape to even begin to resist or question such a steadfastly direct order by the likes of Donovan, the still shaken Les did as instructed.
As they reached the semi-secluded area of the club, the task force team leader grabbed Les by his non-injured arm and looked him straight in his tear-soaked eyes.
Centurion- Dark Genesis Page 8