by Mark Gardner
The councilor stood mute, mouth agape. “Mistress?” he asked when he had regained his dignity.
“When the sun sets, sixteen days hence, I shall take up the sword and shield once again. I will defend our way of life against these mongrels.”
Applause reverberated through the chamber. Cheers followed. Anne stepped down and walked, shoulders back; head held high along the jade carpet until she reached the great doors of the Jade Palace. Many in attendance tried to reach out and touch the renowned leader of the Jade Council. Anne ignored hands thrust out for handshakes. Well-wishers threw the doors open allowing her egress.
“I didn’t know it at the time, but the next time I laid eyes on the Jade Palace, it had been reduced to rubble. Temüjin and his followers...” Anne’s sentence faded, as she was lost in the memory.
“Temüjin’s followers became the human race?”
Anne shook her head. “You and I are the human race, but the freaks reproduced quickly. Those without powers are the defects. Bizarre gene mutations that prevent our powers.”
“What happened to Temüjin?”
“After eight hundred years to think about it, I came to the conclusion that Temüjin was a glimpse of a humanity trending toward mediocrity. I just wish it hadn’t taken me the better part of a century to move on.”
“You have warred with Temüjin and now his son, Ögedei, for over ninety years.”
“What of it?”
“Mistress, when will this vendetta end?”
Anne snarled, “It will end with the head of Ögedei adorning the end of my pike!”
“Mistress, we have lost. We are now the minority. The council has fallen. The Jade Palace lies in ruin. You are a ruler without a people to rule.”
“This doesn’t end under my governance!”
Anne’s adjunct pulled his helmet off with both hands and threw it at her feet.
Anne drew her sword, a fist-sized polished jade stone adorning her scabbard. She brandished her sword at her adjunct. “Perhaps you need a lesson on the chain of command?”
He reached out and gripped her sword. The edge bloodied at his imposing grip. She tried to pull it away, but could only watch helplessly as her beautifully crafted weapon tarnished, flaked away and eventually fell to the ground as a pile of dust.
Anne stared at the pile and sobbed. “You too, Brutus?” She turned her back to her adjunct. “You know the touch of Midas will not stop me.”
“Mistress, we must abandon this quest of yours. This war has annihilated our people. There are so many now without an active gene. I’ve heard in some places our abilities have fallen to legend and conjecture.”
Anne didn’t respond.
“Mistress, we must take steps to preserve and hide ourselves. There are enough of us who hold onto what power we still have. We must rewrite ourselves out of the history books. This world now belongs to the defects.”
Anne turned to reply, hands on her hips in defiance to the logic her adjunct was speaking. “You may be right, but there’s still one problem.”
“Problem, Mistress?” Brutus asked and stepped toward Anne.
“Yes,” she replied. “I loved that sword.” She closed the gap between them, gripped Brutus’ head with both hands and kissed him on the lips.
He tried to break the embrace, pounding on her arms. Eyes wide, he watched her hair go from brown to gray to white as she aged rapidly. Each time she died, a soldier fell and she was reborn. She maintained her embrace until finally it was Brutus who’s life force resurrected her.
She released Brutus’ lifeless body. When it hit the ground, the remains of her beloved sword blew away in the breeze. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and surveyed her surroundings. Including Brutus, sixteen soldiers had fallen. The rest of her compliment cowered and shrunk from her gaze. She reached down and touched Brutus’ shield. The shield tarnished slightly, as Brutus’ power temporarily flowed through her.
“Come, men,” she called out. “We have work to do.”
“Work, huh?” Joaquin’s voice didn’t quite drip with sarcasm. The machismo was still there, but his curiosity seemed to soften his swagger.
“It was so long ago.” Anne placed her hands, palms down on her desk. “I can still remember the feeling of betrayal, how it stung losing the one battle I knew I had to win.”
Anne stood and walked around the desk. She sat lightly on its edge and stared down at Joaquin.
“I am sure you have questions.”
Joaquin nodded.
“Feel free to ask.”
“You talked about lineages. Am I a part of one too? One that ain’t tainted?”
Anne bit her lower lip.
“I’m afraid I don’t know Joaquin. Bloodlines were destroyed, lineages ending at the feet of conquerers, wars, and conspiracies. We couldn’t keep track. We lost our purity.”
Joaquin seemed upset, but then he picked up another question.
“So whatcha aimin’ for here? What do you need me for?”
“Oh, that’s for you to decide. Do you want to be a thug for the rest of your life?” She leaned forward. “Seems a pointless existence to me.”
Joaquin thought on that, and he knew he didn’t want to be just a thug. He was impervious after all. He had the right to be better, to be respected, loved, even feared he admitted as the thoughts swirled in his head.
“Nah,” he finally said, “I wanna be a hero.”
“Do you think we’re making heroes here, Joaquin?” Anne tilted her body toward him. Her voice purred. “Or do you believe that we make villains?”
Taste of Justice
Kristoff took an enormous bite of his cheeseburger. Krystal watched a ketchup-soaked onion slice fall, and land on the paper wrapper spread out on a tray. She had ordered a garden salad, but it sat uneaten on her tray. Kristof saw the errant onion slice and squeezed it between two French fries and shoved the whole thing into his mouth, smacking his lips and licking his fingers.
“Man, I’m starving.” He took a long pull on the straw of his extra large beverage. “I’m not sure when I ate last,” he emphasized his statement by letting out a loud belch.
“Hon...” Krystal said and waited for a response from her husband. He operated the straw once again and raised his eyebrows. “We really do need to talk,” she said.
Kristof emptied the contents of his cup with a loud annoying slurp. He scanned the room for the soda dispenser. “Sure thing, babe. Lemmie get a refill first.” Kristof stood, shoved a handful of fries in his mouth and made his way toward the soda dispenser.
“Why does this have to be so hard?” she whispered to herself as Kristof laughed at something another patron said in line to use the soda machine. It’s supposed to be hard, She thought. You’re considering leaving your husband.
Kristof was a difficult man to live with. She was used to his mood swings and told herself excusing his juvenile behavior was something that married couples just did. She never fully understood his feelings toward his family. She knew he was an only child, and his mother died when he was young. One day on the anniversary of his mother’s death, he was feeling especially vulnerable and confided that he believed his father murdered his mother and fled before the police could perform a proper investigation. Years later, the case was reopened, and it was determined his mother had died of natural causes, but his father’s flight was still suspicious. By that time, Kristof had been in the system and had a few run-ins with law enforcement.
“This guy...” Kristof sat and placed his cup on the corner of his burger wrapper. He wasn’t satisfied with the position and moved it, so it covered the condensation ring completely. “This guy says the service is so slow, robbing the place would be pointless because, by the time they emptied the registers, the cops would already be here.” Kristof ate another huge bite of his cheeseburger followed by another pull of his soda.
His cheek bulged. “People,” he said before shoveling more fries into his mouth.
“Kristof
!” Krystal raised her voice. It was loud enough for those tables near them to look. She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “We need to talk.”
Kristof finished chewing, swallowed and took another drink of his soda. He was acutely aware some patrons were watching him and his wife.
“Okay,” he whispered. “What do you need to talk about?”
“Well.” She paused and looked around to see if anyone was listening. “We’ve been going through a rough patch lately, and...”
Her words were drowned out by a commotion from the front of the restaurant.
“Empty the drawers and nobody gets hurt!” The man Kristof had previously laughed at pointed a gun at the cashier.
“Well I’ll be damned,” said Kristof. “He’s gonna rob the place.”
With her hand, Krystal covered Kristof’s still holding his soda cup. She looked at the robber, then back at Kristof letting go of her fears and doubts. She needed a hero now. They all did. “Can you do anything about this?”
Kristof turned his attention to his wife. “Like what?”
“I saw what you did to that car.”
“Yeah, but why get involved?”
“You don’t think being able to do what you do is a gift?”
“I suppose so.”
“Well? Kristof! Look at me. Shouldn’t you use your gifts for the betterment of society?”
“Fine.” Kristof rolled his eyes. “I’ll see if I can talk to the guy.”
The robber looked at the money on the counter. “That’s not enough!” He shoved the gun into the chest of the cashier. “Open the safe!” He squinted at her name tag. “Do it, Naomi!”
Naomi started crying. “I don’t have the combination and it’s time-delayed anyway.” She sobbed uncontrollably. “Please don’t hurt me.”
The robber scooped up the money and shoved it into his backpack. “I guess I’ll just have to get what’s mine from your customers.”
“Hey, man,” Kristof called out from behind the robber.
The robber spun around. “Laughing guy?” he asked. “I guess I’ll start with you. Gimmie your wallet.”
Kristoff laughed a nervous laugh. “You’re not gonna believe this, but I actually got robbed last night.”
“You’re right, I don’t believe it.”
“Look, man, every second you stay here is a second you could be further from the police.”
“Oh, so you’re a smart guy, huh?” He pressed the gun to Kristof’s chest. “You wanna see what happens to smart guys when they talk back?”
Kristof sighed, grabbed the robber by the gun hand and squeezed. He could feel the bones in the robber’s fingers snap and pop and the metal of the weapon collapse as he squeezed tighter and tighter. The thief screamed in pain and fell toward the floor, Kristof still clutching the gun and hand. Kristof reached with his other hand and flicked a lever on the pistol. The cartridge fell away, and Kristof kicked it into the crowd.
“Please, man,” the robber cried out, Kristoff keeping him from sprawling on the floor holding his hand. “Let me go, man. You’re gonna tear my arm off.”
“Hard to be a stick-up man with only one arm, huh?”
Kristof twisted the gun out of the robber’s grip with his free hand and released the mangled digits. The robber fell to the floor crying and cradling his destroyed hand.
The crowd of frightened patrons began to clap. One or two at first, then the whole restaurant was clapping and cheering noisily. Kristof rolled back the slide on the gun and ejected the chambered bullet. As he walked back to his table, people thanked him and slapped him on the back. He smiled sheepishly and winked at his beaming wife. He dealt with the adulation the best he could, but he was still hungry. He kissed Krystal on the lips and turned his attention to where the robber still lay on the floor crying.
Naomi walked from behind the counter and kicked the robber in the gut before stepping over him and making her way to Kristof.
“Mister!” Naomi called out. “Thank you so much, mister.” Kristof waved his hand, placed the gun on his table and sat in front of the remainder of his meal.
“Your sandwich is cold!” the distraught cashier exclaimed. “I’ll get you a fresh one.”
The girl skipped off to the kitchen, issuing orders to the rest of the crew. Kristof and Krystal walked, arm in arm, to the counter.
“Uh, miss?” Krystal called out.
When the girl turned with a fresh cheeseburger in her hand, Krystal continued. “Can we get that to go?”
Major Jacob Globe pressed his toe into a statue of three meerkats sitting on a log. They were in the classic speak no evil, see no evil, hear no evil pose. He stood in a designated smoking area, lined with fake clover. He looked straight up at the open roof and saw a flock of birds fly overhead. The orange sky was getting darker. Sixteen Sunsets, he thought. What did it mean? He took another drag and shivered. The smoking area only featured a single lamp and a heating tower. This late at night he didn’t bother to turn it on. He would’ve been done smoking before it put out enough heat.
“Doctor Globe?”
Globe looked up to see Denisha leaning through the doorframe and into the smoking area. She wrinkled her brow and brought her hand up to her nose before stepping back. He dropped his cigarette beside the meerkat statue and crushed it with his boot.
“Recent news on subject three-one-six.” She handed him a flash drive and hurried away.
“The unidentified man and his female companion left the restaurant before authorities arrived on site. We go now to eyewitness news reporter Amber Ambrosa on the scene.”
The scene changed from the news anchor to a woman in front of a fast food joint.
“Thanks, Stu. I’m live at the restaurant at the corner of Seventh and Riverside where an attempted robbery was foiled by a mystery man.” Amber held her microphone out to the cashier and the scene panned out. “Can you tell us what happened here?”
“I was working my shift here at the restaurant, and this dude tried robbing the place. A guy totally kicked his bleep before he could rob the rest of the customers.” Naomi covered her mouth. “Can I say that on the air?”
“Please continue,” Amber said from behind the camera.
Naomi continued. “The mystery man’s my hero.” She blew a kiss toward the camera.
The camera followed Amber as she interviewed other restaurant patrons.
“The guy performed some mad judo and wrestled the gun from the robber. That was so totally righteous!”
“I’m glad someone has the guts to stand up to these thugs. If more people acted like the mystery man, we could take this town back from the gangs.”
“I was in line to order when it happened. I was so frightened; I didn’t know what would happen. Thank God that man was there to stop the robbery.”
The camera swung its focus on Amber again. “Just some words of thanks from grateful patrons. The situation could have been worse if not for the selfless actions of a mysterious hero. For eyewitness news, I’m Amber Ambrosa. Back to you, Stu.”
“Mysterious hero, indeed...”
Krystal tossed the remote on the coffee table and straddled Kristof on the couch. “My hero,” she purred. She tried kissing him, but he looked toward the coffee table.
“Hey,” he pouted, “I was watchin’ that.”
“How ‘bout you watch this instead.” Krystal pulled her shirt up and over her head, tossing it on the coffee table, covering the remote.
Kristof smiled and kissed her on the mouth and moved down to her neck and then breasts. Krystal wrapped her arms around his head as Kristof fumbled with the clasp to her bra. After a few frustrating seconds, Kristof grabbed the band and pulled it apart. Krystal gasped as the metal hooks bent out of shape.
She leaned back, allowing the bra to slide down her arms. Kristof embraced her and stood. She wrapped her legs around his torso, and he walked to the bedroom.
“Mysterious hero, indeed. Thank you, Amber.” Stewart turned to the came
ra in the studio. “Police have released this security video from the foiled robbery.”
Grainy black and white video showed Kristof walking up behind the robber, and talking to him before the robber jammed the gun into his chest. When Kristof grabbed the gun hand of the thief and removed the weapon, several patrons gasped. The scene shifted to another camera that showed Kristof and Krystal leave the restaurant, and yet another camera revealed them get into a hybrid car and drive away.
“The security video couldn’t positively identify the man, his companion or the license plate of the vehicle they left in. A spokesperson for the police department had this to say...”
The scene switched to a police sergeant being interviewed by Amber. “I don’t think the robber banked on the heroic actions of the customer who, without a thought for his own safety, disarmed the robber, and while we would never recommend anyone do what the unidentified man did, his actions are worthy of praise.”
Back in the studio, Stewart turned to his female co-anchor. “Quite the story, eh?”
She responded. “I bet there are a lot of people who would like to shake his hand.” She turned to the camera. “In other news a four-alarm fire...”
“Turn that shit off.”
Joaquin looked at the remote in his hand and pressed the power button. “You think that dude’s a hero?”
Justin scoffed. “Heroes? Villains? That’s the stuff of comic books and movies with multi-million dollar budgets. We’re all just surviving.” He sat in a chair beside Joaquin and pointed a gloved finger at him. “I tell you what. If that guy doesn’t have some kind of power, he’s a fuckin’ moron.”
“The people love him. They respect him.”
“Love and respect are worthless. I just want to be left alone to live my life.”
“Shit.” Joaquin drew out the expletive. “I could be a hero if I wanted to.”