Quinn face-palmed himself. “Oh my God, I had no idea. Don’t worry, I’ll figure out how to get that under control real quick,” Quinn said, and they laughed more.
Regaining his composure, Dad asked, “So when I grounded you, were you actually home sick from school?”
“I’m sorry, that was a lie. I had to get to Pease to meet with Captain David Prett to ask for his help.” Quinn took a few moments to explain who David was and why he needed the man’s help. “If I can’t stop The Order, the whole world will change in ways no one yet realizes. Victor and his teams cannot be allowed to create more superhumans. Even if they’re under his control, Victor won’t use them for good, I’m sure of it.”
Daddio looked at his husband. “This explains why Quinn becomes so enraptured whenever the news airs a Blue Spekter story.”
“Wait, that was the day Dark Flame shoved a piece of rebar through Blue Spekter’s—oh gosh—your chest?” Dad asked, concerned. “And you’re alive? Quinn, do you have a hole in your chest?”
Quinn chuckled and explained his healing power to his dads and unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt so they could press their fingers firmly against his chest to allay their concerns.
“So, you and Blake are the only two super-powered people?”
“Oh boy, um…not exactly.” Quinn introduced Ana Maria Garcia into the story and explained how she, Ron, and David’s team were now helping him discover the secrets of The Order.
“Wow, so you’ve created a team of people to guard the city?”
“Well, not yet. I’ve been working with them individually, but I’m going to be pulling them together real soon.
Daddio shook his head. “Who knew we’d have our very own guardians here in the city, just like you’d reading about in a comic book?”
“Exactly.” Quinn said. Actually, that’s not bad at all… “Look, it’s really important you tell no one about what you learned tonight,” Quinn said.
His dads nodded.
“No, I’m serious,” Quinn said, his voice insistent. “Victor knows who you are and there’s no reason he or Blake won’t come after you to get to me. The people I love are not safe if push comes to shove…and when I start taking down The Order, it will.”
Daddio brought his hands to his head as a realization struck his mind. “That’s why you haven’t told us. You were afraid that if we knew, someone would hurt us.”
“Someone still could hurt you,” Quinn said. “Knowing doesn’t stop that from happening.”
“True, but knowing helps us be better prepared if should something happen,” Dad replied.
“I’ll do everything in my power to keep you safe, but with Blake’s control chip malfunctioning, he’s extremely unpredictable and I can’t predict what he’ll do from one minute to the next.”
“Do you think you should tell someone who he is?”
“Like who, the police? I’m already working with Chief Applegate and Agent Potter from the DHS,” Quinn said. “But, what are they going to do? We’re both indestructible, except to each other.”
“Well why don’t you ask this Ana Maria person to help you take him out?” Dad asked.
“Tim, by ‘take him out,’ you do realize you mean kill him, right?” Daddio asked.
Dad’s face became somber. “Oh, right.”
Quinn sighed. “That’s where it gets complicated. Ana Maria is terrified that if she reveals herself, The Order will restart the project that created her.”
Dad waved his hand. “You told us The Order is already trying to create more of you, so why does it matter if Ana Maria reveals himself now?”
Quinn shrugged. “You have a point. I think she’s afraid to let them know they succeeded, because it might bolster their determination to try again.”
“Again,” Dad said, putting on his best lawyer voice, “If they’re already doing it, her coming forward to help you doesn’t matter. Besides, they know it works because of you and Blake. It’s doesn’t matter at this point if Ana Maria reveals herself.”
Daddio shook his head. “It’s going to freak the world out when a third superhuman introduces herself to the public.”
Dad nodded. “True, but if things go south, she may not have a choice.”
Daddio clapped his hands as an idea formed in his mind. “That’s why you dropped your coffee when the news showed Blue Spekter wearing a Clippers sweatshirt. That was you!”
Quinn nodded. “Yup.”
“So, all of this is really why you and Blake aren’t friends anymore, right?” Dad asked.
“Yeah, that big fight we had was basically the end of our friendship. I didn’t know it then, but I can now see how all of his crazy behavior is probably the malfunctioning micro bug in his head. But because we’re indestructible, there’s no way to get it out. It’s supposedly attached to his brainstem, which makes surgery damn near impossible. It’s affecting him and that’s why he’s hellbent on destruction when he gets pissed off.”
“You have to figure out how to get that thing out of him, Quinn. Even if you figure out how to destroy the bug and it sits there, dead as a door nail, it would be much better for him and the world than it is now especially because it’s the reason he’s behaving so irrationally. Otherwise, he’s a never-ending recipe for disaster.”
Daddio nodded in agreement. “If anyone can save Blake, you can. I’m pretty sure what he’s done so far is nothing compared to what his destructive potential is, and if you’re not around to stop him, the damage would be unthinkable.”
Quinn smiled, overjoyed at his fathers for their support of his superhero identity. “I thought you guys would have freaked out way more than this.”
“Oh, don’t worry, buddy, the freak-out is coming,” Daddio said, laughing.
“Yeah, with what’s been going on, it’s not like we could possibly be mad at you for being Blue Spekter. You save people, Quinn. You’re the good guy,”
“Does Keegan know?” Daddio asked with excitement.
Quinn frowned and shook his head. “No. You’ve heard his thoughts about Blue Spekter, and I’m afraid that if I tell him, he’ll want nothing to do with me.”
“Ouch,” Dad said.
“That’s a tricky situation,” Daddio added. “At some point you’re going to have to tell him. He’s going to have to decide if he loves you enough to accept you for who you are, but if he doesn’t, you should brace yourself for some serious heartache.”
Quinn’s stomach flip-flopped and dropped to his toes. “I can’t think about that right now. It would hurt me too much.”
“I know, son,” Daddio said, getting up from the island stool and walking toward his son with open arms. “Come here buddy. We still love our gay teenage superhero a whole heck of a lot. Besides, this is the best birthday present you could’ve ever given me.”
Quinn smiled and accepted his father’s embrace and rested his head on Daddio’s shoulder. “Thanks, you have no idea how much that means to me.”
“Me too,” Dad said, wrapping his arms around both of them.
❖
Victor
Victor was in the middle of clearing new test subjects when the comm system rang.
“Answer,” he announced absentmindedly.
An electronically-disguised voice spoke. “Your progress, Victor?”
Victor sighed and pushed his hands away from his keyboard and rested them in his lap. “Greetings, Madame Presider. Second attempt resulted in failure. Both subjects died within one hour of orgone infusion; they lived forty-five minutes but could not be resuscitated. Third attempt preparations underway.”
A few seconds of silence passed before the ominous voice spoke again. “We await your report.”
Then, the call disconnected. I have an idea, but I’d lose everything if my gamble is wrong…
8 | The Path of Vengeance
Blake
Blake flew north to the suburbs of Augusta, Maine, to the palatial mansion of Michael Dunsworth III, the next closest
member of the council. As he approached the house at noon, he spotted a limousine pulling into the driveway of the house. He flew nearer so he could see the faces of the people who climbed out.
A moment later, the chauffeur stepped out and walked around the back of the limo to open the rear door on the passenger side. A gray-haired, well-dressed man in his sixties stepped out and Blake recognized his face from the Internet photos he had found.
Blake descended rapidly and landed in the driveway between the man and the house, his eyes and body glowing orange.
“Archimandrite Michael Dunsworth?” Blake asked, glowering at the two men with glowing orange eyes. The startled men stared at him with shock, mesmerized by the glowing orange man in front of them. He had worn skinny-fit jeans over his purple tights along with a white form-fitting muscle shirt and a black hoodie so he could carry his wallet, phone, and its charging cable.
“Yes?” the man said as the chauffeur backed away.
“You’re coming with me.” He advanced on Michael, who raised his hands in panic and defense, but Blake was too fast. He grabbed him by the left arm and then took off, flying as high as he could into the sky. When he reached the ceiling of his ability, he raised his arm and pulled Michael up so they would be face to face.
“What do you want with me?” Michael asked, his voice shrill with fear. His face and eyes reflected the orange glow of his body and eyes.
Blake stared at him, his eyes glowing orange. “Do you know who I am?”
“I…I presume you’re Dark Flame, but I’ve never seen you before.”
“And you never will again. Victor sends his regards.” Then, Blake released the man.
Michael screamed as he fell several hundred feet to the ground, his flailing body splattering onto the cobblestone driveway next to the limousine.
“Holy shit,” the chauffeur cried out.
Smirking, Blake set his phone’s GPS to Rhode Island so he could eliminate his next target, Archimandrite Antony Von Daler.
❖
Later that afternoon, Blake landed near the servant entrance of the historic Von Daler estate in the Blackstone neighborhood of Providence, Rhode Island. After forcing the door open, he turned invisible and made his way through the massive home. The home was adorned with plush carpets, furniture, ornate vases, stone carvings, and artwork, but he was oblivious to it all because his ears were focused on the sound of a man’s voice somewhere upstairs.
Stealthily dodging a few servants, he made his way to the second floor of the mansion and approached an impressive set of carved wooden doors. On the other side, he heard the voice of an angry man yelling through a speakerphone. He paused, focused his hearing, and eavesdropped on their conversation.
“No, you listen to me, Antony. Victor’s pet project is loose and out of control. There’s no reason to think we won’t be his next targets.”
“You’re overreacting, Mathias.” a male voice on the other side of the doors responded.
Mathias Prendergast—he’s one of my targets, too. Word gets around fast with these guys. The chauffeur must have squawked. Doesn’t matter…
“Antony, if I’m overreacting, then tell me who killed Dunsworth? The terrified driver insisted a flying orange man scooped him up high above the house and dropped him nearly three hundred feet to his death. Do you know anyone else besides Dark Flame who can do that?”
“Blue Spekter,” Antony replied.
“That kid glows blue, and as far as we know, they can’t change their colors.
“Look, if you want to take your chances, don’t do anything. Starting tomorrow, I’m beefing up my security. I tasked my security detail with installing infrared cameras throughout the house and our critical facilities. Victor’s reports indicated this guy can become invisible and although he might disappear from the visible spectrum, heat sensors may detect him.”
Ooh, interesting. I have no idea about that…
“Paranoid much?” Mathias retorted, chuckling.
Antony cleared his throat. “If nothing comes of this, then we have lost nothing. But if more council members die, then you will thank me, unless you’re next.”
“Are you threatening me?” Mathias asked.
“Of course not. I’m only raising awareness that all of us may be in danger if Nigel Krause’s people talked. Why must you be so obtuse?”
“If you gentlemen are quite finished…” a woman’s voice said.
That must be Madame Presider. I’ve never been this close, but I’m still incredibly far.
“If anyone should be concerned for their safety, it should be you, Madame Presider,” Antony said.
“I am already flying to O’hare for the Council meeting,” Madame Presider responded.
“If you’re really worried about him coming for you, you should join us instead of connecting by remote video. Dark Flame won’t know we’ve already doubled security at the Waldorf Astoria Hotel per my request.”
Blake smiled. Merry Christmas to me. With the Council coming together, this will be a piece of cake. Looks like I’m going to Chicago after I take care of Antony.
“This call must end, gentlemen. I have other business to attend to. Antony, make preparations to join us in Chicago.”
“But…”
“Enough, Antony. I expect to see you tomorrow.”
The line went dead, and Antony swore. When Antony switched off the speakerphone, Blake became visible and opened the door. He entered the large office study and shut the door behind him.
Antony had his back to the door and waved his hand dismissively. “Set the tea on the credenza, please.”
“I’m not one of your servants, asshole,” Blake snarled, illuminating his orange eyes.
Antony spun around, surprised at the unfamiliar voice. “Oh god, it’s you!”
“Your friends should have listened to you, Antony, because you’re right. I am coming for all of you.”
“No, don’t, please! What is it you want? Revenge on Victor? Money? Property? A slice of the pie?”
“What I want, you can’t give me.”
Blake reached out with is mind and pulled Antony across the room until he held the frightened Archimandrite by the neck. Blake sucked the man dry, watching as his skin mottled and turned his veins turned black and diseased. A moment later, he breathed his last and Blake dropped him to the floor. He turned to leave, but hesitated.
If they find him like this, they’ll alert the rest of the council and call off the meeting. But if I make this look like a suicide…
Blake looked around and studied the rot-iron chandelier hanging from the ceiling above him. Perfect. Blake removed Antony’s tie and hovered in the air, swinging it around one of the rot-iron rods of the chandelier. Then, he pulled Antony up with his telekinesis and looped the other end around Antony’s neck. After securing the tie, he gently released Antony and the body hung, pulling at the Chandelier. The rot-iron fixture groaned under the man’s weight and the tin ceiling warped under the strain.
Good, when this crashes to the floor, they’ll find him and think he ended his life.
Blake checked his phone. It would take him almost twelve hours to fly to the hotel in Chicago, but it would be worth it when he wiped out the majority of the Archimandrion Council.
The ceiling groaned and the tin finishing ripped apart, pulling old wiring, dust, and insulation down as the dead man’s weight pulled the chandelier from its mounts and crashed to the floor.
That takes care of that.
❖
Hours later, Blake flew west over Pennsylvania and New York states. Ahead, the vast waters of Lake Erie stretched out to the horizon where a massive snowstorm threatened his otherwise clear journey to Chicago. He tried to fly above the storm, but his limited flight abilities prevented him from doing so. He knew the winter weather around the Great Lakes could be tricky, but he had never experienced it first hand—or from the air—until he flew into the dark gray clouds. Blinding, heavy snow impaired his visibility whil
e the storm’s cold winds tossed him around like a single engine plane in a thunderstorm.
His clothing became soaked with cold wetness and although he could warm himself with his heat ability, the shivering would always return. He pushed through the storm hoping Victor hadn’t caught wind of what he was doing and canceled his credit card because the only thing he really wanted in Chicago at the moment was a hot shower.
Briefly landing on the roof of a brown skyscraper next to the Huntington Center in Toledo, Ohio, he pulled out his phone and checked the satellite imagery around the Waldorf Astoria in Chicago. Squatting for warmth, he booked a room with a western-facing view at the Four Seasons Hotel because it afforded him a direct view of the hotel where the Archimandrion Council would be meeting.
With several more hours to go, Blake sighed. Then, he jumped off the roof, swan diving into a gentle ascent back into the obnoxious snowstorm. Halfway over Lake Michigan, he course-corrected and flew toward the Windy City. With less than an hour to go, he pushed on, tired of the cold. Eventually, he spotted passenger planes lining up for landing at O’hare airport above him and followed them in, swooping left when the bright orange lights of the city caught his eye.
That’s a good sign, if the planes are landing the storm didn’t close the airport. On another note, I would never be seen flying around Chicago—everything here looks orange at night.
Several moments later, he approached the Chicago shoreline and swung left toward the Hancock Tower, instantly recognizing the trapezoid shaped building and its two colorful antenna masts. Directly behind it, he spotted the Four Seasons and rapidly descended to the ground. It was late, he was tired, and he didn’t care who saw him. He heated his body enough to evaporate some of the moisture from his clothing, but he didn’t want to risk burning away his only clothes.
After checking in and receiving strange looks from the concierge staff—probably because he still appeared soaking wet, underdressed, and his purple sneakers squeaked incessantly on the polished marble floors—he made his way to his hotel room, stripped off his wet clothes and hung them in front of the forced hot-air blower. He glanced out the window of his hotel room and saw the Waldorf Astoria building.
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