Blackjack Messiah

by Ben Bequer

  “No, no,” he said, interceding between me and his man. “Let them monitor this, I don’t care much now.”

  I gave Praetorian a wink and followed Primal, who walked away without me. Nobody followed. I hurried to catch up as Lashwave and Le Kill passed us, hurrying with Father Superior in their arms. “Cant…breathe…” he gasped, as they reached the elevator. The doors opened, and I made a move to step in, but Primal held me up with a gesture, allowing the Lashwave and Le Kill to muscle Father Superior in.

  “I had to make sure it was you,” Primal said absentmindedly as the doors closed. “I’ve never seen you in person. I had to…well, it wasn’t my best idea.”

  “And this place?” I gestured to the island. “This wasn’t that smart either. You didn’t think we’d find out about it?”

  “Technology,” he said. “I’ve never kept up with new developments, with everything that’s happening. Others warned me, but I can be pretty obstinate. ‘It’s the remotest place in the world,’ I told them. What do I know, anyway. I was a geologist when the accident turned me into what I am now. As you can imagine, I traveled the whole world – Africa, Asia, Australia – everywhere, really, and in my travels, I heard of this place…and it always struck me as romantic, you know, a place so remote.”

  “You might’ve gone underground,” I suggested.

  He raised an eyebrow. “Maybe next time.”

  “I’m sorry, Primal,” I said, serious for the first time. “This isn’t one you’re going to walk away from. I come with terms-”

  “Not yet,” he said with a raised hand. “So you don’t have to repeat yourself.”

  Just then the elevator doors slid open and we entered. The thing dropped with more speed than was probably safe. He was unaffected, but I felt the floor leaving my feet behind as I began to lift slightly off the ground. “Slower,” he said and the elevator obeyed, allowing me to land, but I could tell he wanted to say more.

  “It’s fine,” I said. “Where are we going?”

  “What was Utopia for you?” he said.

  It was my turn to stammer. As a super felon who had been convicted of crimes against humanity, I had been sentenced to a lifetime in Utopia. A metahuman supermax built to keep monsters placid, the inmates were fed personalized virtual fantasies that were for all intents, real. I hadn’t thought of my experiences in the mind prison for a long time, but at his prompt, memories elbowed their way through the tension of the moment. Flying boats and swords and fun, man it had been so much fun! It was also a horrible reflection of all the bad things nestled deep in me. I never talked about it, not even with Apogee.

  Primal nodded into the gulf of my silence. “Silence is the most common answer to that question. Even the worst of the lost souls have trouble with it.”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “I’m glad they sent you. You can understand what it was like. An illusion, but so real. For me, Utopia, was, well, utopia. I managed to bring us all together. Like this, in a way. Obviously, there were far fewer of us than there are now, but the ones who were there lived in a world where we all worked for the common good. Retcon made peace with Valiant. Did you know they were best friends before the accident?”

  The elevator had slowed to point where it felt like we were barely moving. I had nothing to add, so stayed silent, watching his mood darken in the deepening lines around his mouth and eyes. I was starting to worry. If I had Primal pegged right, every inch of this place was his to control. He could kill me right here with little effort.

  “A guard pulled me out of the pod when all the machines shut down,” he said in a whisper. “He could have left me to die, but he made a choice. When I regained my strength, I tried to lay low, but the vision of my utopia clung like spider webs that I couldn’t brush off. I tried it in Madagascar, but the people…”

  “Weren’t worth the effort,” I finished for him.

  He shrugged. “It’s the truth. So now, I am trying it here, with our people.”

  “How many do you have here?”

  He didn’t have to answer. The elevator stopped abruptly, the door opening to reveal a vast semi-circular chamber, designed with rows and rows of desks and chairs, like the security council of the UN or the U.S. House of Representatives. Ahead of me was a mob of villains, hundreds of them packed into chairs, or standing and waiting. Primal motioned me towards a podium that overlooked the room. A microphone sat on an adjustable stand.

  “Go ahead,” he said. “Tell them all.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  I'm Great with Speeches

  Boos met me at the podium, along with some feral growls and curses that may have actually been magical. I tapped the microphone and was rewarded with loud scratches. There was a wave of laughter at that, and I could tell they weren’t laughing with me. The podium was raised, looking down on a pit that was standing room only. There was a sea of faces down there, but I didn’t recognize most of them. The computer link was trying to keep up, but that many targets were the equivalent of a DDOS attack. Past them were five rows of chairs arrayed in concentric circles, each a half step higher than the one in front. Not a single seat was empty. The row furthest from me was twenty or thirty feet high, giving the chamber a stadium-like feel, and amplifying every sound.

  “Hello,” I said, immediately hating how passive my voice was.

  The villains jeered and sneered.

  I’ve never been a talented public speaker. My voice is deep and rough, and I lack what some would call stage presence. I’m more the guy that stands behind the guy doing the talking - looking menacing was sort of my specialty. But I had agreed to this, and here I was, with no way out but through.

  “My name is Blackjack,” I said.

  A massive figure stood from up in the front row of seats. Mottled green scales moved sinuously as he parted the small mob below, and a tail bobbed around as if it had its own mind. Slitted yellow eyes stared out from a snout. My reticle identified him as Tooth, from the villain combo Tooth and Claw, though where his partner was, I couldn’t tell.

  “He said his name is Bitchjack?”

  The jibe was just stupid enough to elicit laughter from a crowd that was already predisposed to hate me. I was tempted to ignore it, but that could be seen as weakness. I scrolled fast through my intel scan and found a nugget that I couldn’t pass up. “You’re Tooth, right?”

  He turned to me, drooling out of the side of his mouth, “That’s right, Bitchjack.”

  “Didn’t Epic put you on your ass?”

  The relevance escaped him for a moment, but realization dawned with the widening of his slitted eyes. Not everyone knew my face, but anyone who knew my name knew I pancaked Epic. “You ain’t sh-”

  “Sit down and shut up, stupid. The adults are trying to figure this thing out.” I waited two seconds then went on, ignoring him. “I come with word from Superdynamic and Task Force One.” Tooth was still standing, confused. “We are not unsympathetic to your situation and have a potential solution that might work for most of you. Surrender to me, now, and you’ll have your sentences cut in half. I don’t think it can get better than that.”

  I stared down at Tooth, who slinked back to his seat.

  “Run and we’ll chase you. Fight and we’ll beat you. Surrender peacefully and we’ll be merciful.”

  I felt something behind me and saw Primal inching forward. I took the unspoken cue and gave him the podium. “You heard him. The offer is on the table and I gotta admit, it’s pretty good. If you’re tired of running, if you think enough is enough, then I suggest you take it. None of us will think any less of you.”

  “Fuck that shit, I wanna fight!” Tooth said, and half the stadium erupted.

  “Blackjack is right, the Task Force is formed from some of the most powerful supers on the planet. They’ve got many of the same heroes that put us away,” he gave Tooth a baleful stare. “We might have numbers on them - maybe five times over - but those supers are as strong as they come. Some of us have the bruises
and scars to prove it, right?” He gestured to the side of his face, eliciting some laughter and chuckles from the crowd.

  “Now I know that some of you are itching for a good fight after many years on ice,” Primal said. “I understand completely and, frankly, I can’t blame you, but I want you to do me a personal favor and seriously consider the offer. While it might be fun to trade punches with the bastard that put you away if only for old time’s sake, I’d appreciate if that’s your decision, it’s only the last resort.” He paused a second for dramatic effect, then dug his hands in his pockets. “Thank you for listening to me,” he said, stepping out of microphone range. “Well, that’s that.”

  “Nice speech,” I said. “Motivates the more fearful ones to run or surrender. And gives the crazies reason to fight - maybe to cover your escape?”

  He looked back into the chamber to see it empty out. A couple of them might fight, but to me, they looked like the runners. I hoped most of them would just surrender. Some had only a few years left on their sentences, and their remaining jail time would be minimal. Others stayed at their seats, arguing and yelling. A few fights broke out. Those were the scrappers. Not much point of cutting multiple life sentences in half. I could empathize. I had multiple life sentences hanging over my head, too.

  “Most will run,” Primal said, walking away. “But some will give it a go.” He stopped a few paces from me and gestured for me to follow. His leadership cadre joined us. There were two dozen of them.

  “And you?” I said.

  He raised his eyebrows and shook his head, “I had this all figured out, my boy. This was meant to be a real haven for those that had no other option - super or not. A home for all the world’s homeless, regardless of reason.”

  “Kind of like the French Foreign Legion?”

  “Something like that. Well, as you can imagine, creating that requires a great deal of effort and time. And while we had a large number of people respond, time became short thanks to your Task Force.”

  “I’m sorry for that,” I said. The idea did have a romantic novelty to it, a place where a person could start from scratch. I found my second chance with Apogee and Superdynamic. They saved my life and my soul. As I looked out over that audience, I saw plenty of people in the same jam that I had been in.

  “I think it was doomed to failure long before that. See, I was sold on the idea of making this some sort of democratic utopian society,” he gestured to the figures that raced behind us. “And before you knew it we had factions…let’s see, there’s the Progress Group, who favor some sort of republican ideal, with an elected body - that chamber we were just at was their idea. There’s also the Brothers of Allah - you’d be surprised how many supers come from the Middle East. They actually want me to lead in an authoritarian fashion - after I renounce my former Baptist ways and embrace Islam.” He shuddered.

  “Then there’s the Anarchists…I call them that but they have some sort of acronym that I can never remember. In any case, it’s been…interesting, to say the least. Especially for someone my age, someone not all that used to the fine art of politicking.”

  We continued down a long hallway, decorated with wall to wall red plush rug and old tapestries like you’d find in an ancient medieval castle. The roof was high and arched, and ahead were a pair of brass-laced double doors. A pair of servants stood on either side and opened them for us.

  “I’ve done my best here, you see, but I think this is the stuff of younger men. I know I don’t look it, Blackjack, but I’m eighty-two years old.”

  He looked it. That and then some.

  “I’m tired of fighting,” he said, walking into the massive chamber. Sitting in the middle of the room was a table with two dozen settings. The floor was polished marble, almost as if it were one huge piece that spanned the whole place, red with natural patterns that you’d get lost in if you stared for too long. The walls were draped with mirrors and tapestries and the roof was high and arched, the columns decorated with cherubs dancing and frolicking. If not for the harsh sea visible out the windows that surrounded us, it would be easy to think this place was a part of a Renaissance European castle.

  We spilled into the room, following Primal to the table, but he didn’t take a seat, instead, standing against one of the ornate chairs. “Impressed?” he said, shaking his head at my awe. “It won’t last, my boy. Nothing ever does.”

  “Listen, I don’t speak for the others, but I don’t see a reason why we can’t…”

  He raised a hand, and I fell silent. “I came here, eager to change everything,” he started. “Angry at my past…I wanted a new start.”

  “If you know anything about me, you know I understand that.”

  “The problem is that there’s no such thing, Blackjack. It doesn’t exist. There’s this and there’s nothing else. And despite my best intentions, regardless of all my work, nothing we’ve done here is different…or better. It’s all the same, you see? All the same conflicts followed us here. What does that tell you?”

  I shook my head.

  “To start fresh, you have to leave everything behind, Blackjack. God, I wish I could show you.” He turned to one of the group that followed us, an older guy - older even than Primal. “What does it read?”

  The man held what amounted to a bulky smartphone in one hand and what looked like a tube of lipstick in the other. He waved the small tube in my general direction as I edged away from the group until my back was closer to the wall. “What the fuck?”

  “No, no,” Primal said. “This is just a…dear me, I don’t even know what it’s called.”

  “It doesn’t have a formal name,” the older man said, chuckling. No data was coming up for the guy. “It’s like a Geiger counter-“

  “Right,” Primal shot in with a sudden burst of youthful vigor. “It’s like a Geiger counter, but instead of testing radiation, it tests…well…radiation.” Lost again, he turned to the older man.

  “It tests the emission of the same radiation that made the Original Seven,” he said, his attention mostly on the device. “As I feared, they’re using some sort of dampeners. I’d wager they’re built into his bracers.”

  I clenched my fists. “If you think you’re going to…”

  “No, please,” Primal pleaded. “He’s just testing. We’re just testing.”

  “What’s this all about?”

  He lowered his head and chuckled, “Well, I’ve found a new way to look at things. A new point of view. A fresh start, Blackjack, for crying out loud. What have we been talking about here? That’s what this is all about.”

  “And the castle, and all the people out there?”

  Primal shrugged, “I told you, it was a failed experiment.”

  “Yes, his bracers are suppressing the emissions, but I can still detect them, Primal. They’re there, undiminished. Superdynamic must have figured out a method to contain them.”

  “How do you know about that?” I said. I knew the answer, of course, my little secret was nothing of the sort. A lot of people knew that I was changed from my encounter with the Lightbringers, the Godlike species that “made” the first supers.

  It was a long story, but the punchline was, I emitted energy like a nuclear reactor, energy that turned normal humans into supers, and supers into even more powerful supers. Superdynamic had devised a suppression device that was integrated into my gear, and the main devices were implanted in my huge bracers. They sapped a little bit of my strength and made me feel like I had a permanent fever, tired and sluggish, but they protected others from my emissions and allowed me to live a normal life.

  Geiger counter guy looked confused, waving the small tube just to the left of me. “That’s strange…”

  “What is it?” Flamestrike said, standing near enough that I could feel the ambient heat radiating from him, and a smell like burning kerosene. Space cleared around him almost unconsciously. Only Primal seemed indifferent to how unsettling Flamestrike was.

  The old guy with the met
a Geiger counter audibly gulped. “Sorry, Flamestrike, but I’m getting duplicated readings.”

  Flamestrike turned on me and heat wafted from around him in waves that reminded me of a Nevada highway during the summer. “Let’s get on with it, Primal.”

  “We’ve been given a second chance, Blackjack,” Primal said. “We can change everything, we can show them all.”

  I breathed a deep sigh and shook my head. I should have known there was a game at the center of this. I used to laugh at how straightforward heroes were. I thought their simple good versus bad standards were stupid and naive. Then I found myself neck deep in dumb villain schemes. I learned that every person needed a set of ethics to live by, otherwise you were just an overpowered baby throwing tantrums. I’ve thrown a tantrum or two in my time.

  “All those years on the run,” Primal continued. “All that effort and pain for the slim chance to belong, and what have they given you? An outsider’s view of the banquet. We mean to give you the head table,” he said, motioning for the others to gather around me. Primal pulled back the head chair. The others came closer, one of them producing a pair of heavy manacled power dampening cuffs.

  My attention was diverted to the old man and his device as he kept scanning the area. Primal reached out and put his hand on my shoulder, “This isn’t a religion or a cult. It’s a new way for us to live, a new outlook on life, a new sense of belonging - something I know you’re searching for.”

  “Oh dear,” the Geiger counter guy said, drawing my attention for a moment. He was standing beside me, waving his device in the area adjacent to me. “I think I figured it out.”

  Crackling energy preceded an explosion of light and energy that knocked me and most of Primal’s entourage on our asses. When the flare dimmed, Apogee stood next to me. Yanking me to my feet, she said, “I waited as long as I could.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Teamfights, my Favorite

  “I see your friends have arrived,” Primal said, the childish energy gone from his voice.