Preternaturals: A Superhero Thriller

by Allen Kensington

  Malorius ignored his words, landing another punch to the hero’s solar plexus.

  Jack’s body crumpled, his midsection rising with the force of the blow, then falling hard and fast. He landed a few yards away, rolling to a halt and wincing in pain as he rubbed his battered abdomen.

  Coughing, the senator tried to get up, but his strength was failing. More blood leaked from him as he stretched to realign his spine. An audible crunch signaled a bone snapping back into place. “I’ll take the beatings, Doctor. Lord knows I deserve them. I’ve done a lot wrong in my life.”

  He tried again to stand, but wobbled and failed. The hero seemed utterly spent, bruises starting to form. “I’ve carried you around inside me all this time, blaming you for past mistakes. I realize now that it wasn’t you. It was me. I let this happen. My shame allowed you in, and my guilt has given you power.”

  Malorius kicked him again, launching him into the pool of black beside the others.

  Jack rolled over, pushing himself up from the muck. He seemed dazed, on the verge of losing consciousness. “I’m sorry, kids,” he said, splashing in the oil. “My decisions brought us here, and I’m not strong enough to go on. I’ve endangered you all.”

  He glanced down into the pool, the dark liquid dripping from his sorrow-laden features. “I didn’t want the burden of being a hero any longer. I was tired, but that can’t change the results of my actions. It’s taken me fifty years to realize it, but I need to ask your forgiveness. I made a mistake, and I’m sorry.”

  Dr. Malorius approached again, lifting the man with one, powerful arm. Jack’s feet left the floor as the villain held the former hero by the throat. Crimson eyes gleamed.

  Jack didn’t move, expecting another blow. “My apology isn’t only for them,” he choked in a low and even tone, devoid of anger or excitement. “It’s for you as well.” He looked straight into the villain’s glowing eyes. “I’m sorry, Doctor. I had no right to take from you what I did.”

  “I care little for your pathetic apologies,” Malorius said, throwing the aged senator.

  Jack’s body landed in a broken heap.

  Chapter Forty-six

  For a time, none moved or spoke. All motion slowed to a halt, and the army of shades became still. A thousand pairs of eyes found the two adversaries.

  Fighting the pain and silence with honesty, Jack repeated his earlier thoughts. “I don’t expect your forgiveness, Doctor, but I do apologize. Despite your crimes, and our battles, I took something from you that I should not have. I wronged you, and I am truly sorry.”

  His nemesis said nothing.

  “I forgive you,” a voice said.

  Jack turned to see Sybil stepping out from under the sticky dome. She appeared luminous against the blackness. “These powers have altered my life in ways I cannot imagine, but I hold you no ill will. You did what you thought best, perhaps the only thing you could have done in that difficult situation.”

  “I forgive you, too, Jack,” David Mead said, pulling himself free of the sludge. “You may have made mistakes, but you’ve proven yourself when it counted. You’re quite a warrior.”

  Red Cunningham approached as well, leaving the Aegis’ shield and shrugging off the dark liquid. “I can’t blame you. I’ve had my own doubts about this power. You could never have known what would happen.” He joined Sybil and David. “If it’s forgiveness you want, you have mine.”

  “And mine,” an electronic voice added, his shield breaking from beneath the bubble of tar. “It seems I am as much at fault as you. Perhaps more.” The Aegis walked to meet them, but stopped outside of the group’s semicircle. “If this is your burden, it should not be carried alone.”

  With the words, Jack could move again, the years falling from him like autumn leaves. As if a great weight had been lifted, he again stood. The lines along his face became less distinct, and a small glimmer of Captain Valour peaked through.

  He nodded, smiling and turning to face his rival. A low pall settled over the place, and the bodies of the dark horde began to disintegrate. The oily forms turned to dust, shadowy particles moving in an unfelt wind. The eerie blackness dissipated, and David felt his remaining restraints dissolve as Sybil and the others were uncovered fully.

  Malorius was left alone, unflinching. “You cannot defeat me so easily, Captain. I am much more powerful.” His gauntlet formed another fist, and thumped against Jack’s jawbone.

  Jack took the blow, rubbing the stubble of his lower chin. “I know,” he said, looking back to the huddled group. “Sybil,” he commanded, “release them. I have control of my body.”

  Malorius’ eyes flared. “You cannot contain me forever, Captain. I will always remain.”

  Jack grinned, nodding to the girl. “I don’t have to.”

  Sybil broke the connection, and the ruined rooftop again came into view. Each of them looked to the others, shaking off the experience. All seemed calm, but they were unwilling to trust the sentiment.

  “Is it over?” Sybil asked at last.

  Jack removed the nightmarish helmet that had formed around his head. Clearing the last of the cobwebs from his embattled mind, a tear slipped from under one eye, rolling in a gentle streak down his face. “No, it’s not over,” he replied, loud enough for all to hear. “There’s one thing left to do. Aegis?”

  The mercenary stepped forward.

  “You’re the only one who can end it,” Jack said.

  “No,” Sybil shouted before his words where finished. She rose, rushing toward him. “There has to be another way.”

  Jack shook his head, holding her at arm’s length. “There isn’t. Malorius remains inside me, and if he ever gained control again, you wouldn’t be able to stop him.” He looked to his metal-covered feet. “It must end here. I have to make certain that these powers never fall into his hands again.”

  He moved the oversized armor with extreme gentleness, and clasped her hand between the claw-like gauntlets. “You have been like a daughter to me.” He knelt and kissed her cheek. “I hope that Malorius hasn’t spoiled all of your memories of me. Thank you for everything.” The two met in a tender hug. “I love you, Sybil,” he whispered.

  After they parted their embrace, David stepped forward, saluting the senator. “It’s been an honor, sir.”

  Jack smiled, returning the salute. “The honor is mine, Lieutenant. This team needed a leader, and you gave them one. You stuck with them when everything fell apart. I couldn’t be more proud.”

  His hand returned to his side, but Jack continued speaking. “Trust your instincts, David, and the team will be in good hands. And one more thing,” he said, looking to Sybil, then back to the Lieutenant. “Take care of her.”

  It was David’s turn to smile. He put his arm around Sybil and gave her a gentle squeeze. “It’ll be my pleasure.”

  Jack accepted the answer, stepping away. “Red,” he called, focusing on the third member of the group. “I want you to know that it wasn’t your preternatural ability that won this day. It was your heart. You are every bit the hero that Captain Valour ever was. Take care of yourself, and your family.”

  Red’s mouth crinkled, his head giving a slight bow in response. “Wait, Jack,” Red said, moving closer to the senator. “I don’t pretend to understand any of this, but that liquid, can it really siphon powers?”

  Jack nodded. “Yes. It can.”

  Red inhaled, considering. He pushed the extra air out in a long sigh. “Could it be used to remove my ability?”

  The senator grimaced. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

  Red smiled. “Actually, Jack, I do. I’ve dreamed of being a hero like you since I was a little boy. I played in towel-capes and scaled the living room furniture. When I got my powers, I thought I was something special. Someone intended to change the world.” He laughed to himself. “I know better now, and I know I can’t live with this anymore.” He looked to the Sybil and the Lieutenant. “Others have had to sacrifice while I chased my dre
ams, and that’s not fair. Not for me or them.”

  Jack reached out to the man, silver particles spilling from him. The microscopic robots passed down his arm, and coalesced into a cylinder, each releasing a tiny amount of the green liquid inside. Jack outstretched his fingers, and a can of fluid lay atop his palm. He handed it to Red.

  “I’ll leave you with the choice.”

  Red grabbed the container with both hands.

  Jack put a hand upon his shoulder, and smiled. He remembered that feeling, the promise of freedom and fear of change. “The liquid inside will change you, Red. Be certain that your choice is the right one.”

  Red looked up. His eyes were watering. “Thank you,” he said.

  His goodbyes done, Senator Williams returned at last to the Aegis. “I’m ready.”

  The glowing oval of the mercenary’s helmet betrayed no emotion. He looked upon the senator, then to the others. “You will want to get as far away as you can,” he said, preparing to uncouple his armor.

  David nodded. He put an arm around Sybil and rose into the air. Flying over, he grasped Red’s free hand, the other holding the canister of fluid. Together, they jetted away, leaving Jack and the Aegis alone on the rooftop.

  Jack knelt in the rubble, watching the withdrawing speck of his former allies. He smirked, casting his eyes downward. “You’ve suffered more than most. Haven’t you, John?”

  The Aegis put a hand across his chest, grasping the seam at his shoulder. The armor’s breastplate came free, and a pinpoint of light opened into a blinding glow. A torso-shaped mass of radiation was revealed, fatal rays blasting outward. Even in the full sunlight, a nauseating color painted the skyline opposite the Aegis.

  Jack’s eyes hurt to look at it, and excruciating agony took hold of every nerve in his body. He could feel himself burning away, skin blistering in the onslaught of radiation, leaving behind nothing but an ashen husk. The survival instinct within him shouted to run and escape this torture, but he held himself still. This was necessary. It was what needed to be. Jack knew that he must die.

  Malorius’ costume began to melt under the extreme energy, and Jack’s exposed flesh followed. “I’m sorry,” he said with the half of his face that held recognizable features, turned slightly from the exposure. His lone eye watched as the steel around them turned molten, and the rooftop sizzled. “The world has corrupted you, but when the chips were down, you did the right thing.”

  He twisted fully into the light, reaching closer to the Aegis’ chest. “My hope is that somehow, this will make it up to you.” Charred hands grasped the glowing torso, lasting a moment before being incinerated. The senator’s body turned from glossy silver to mottled black, and the nanites gave way to the inferno. Each tiny machine glowed with a brief fire, blackening until a thin layer of ash covered everything.

  In the end, Jack’s body was taken by the noxious light, and the pain began to fade. His last thoughts were of Sybil, and the battle on the bridge a half century ago. He would have grinned, had the muscles of his face remained. In another moment, all moisture evaporated from his brain cavity, and the organ inside turned to cinders.

  He, and Dr. Malorius, vanished forever.

  __________

  The Aegis watched the last remnants of life leave the man, little remaining of the senator’s body. Ashes and bone formed a crude facsimile of the once-great hero, but all life was gone. The man had sacrificed himself to ensure that Malorius was dead, and had taken most of the preternatural power in the world with him. Excluding a handful of citizens, everything was normal again. Safe. The old man had done it.

  Feeling strange, the Aegis reached for the breastplate of his armor, hoping to cover himself before his radial corruption destroyed everything nearby. He lifted and held it into place, readying the connections, but there was no glow lighting its inner side. He paused, and rather than reattaching the piece, he looked down to where it would have gone.

  His chest was dark and human. The noxious light, so much a part of him for so long, had dwindled and disappeared. He let the armor fall, looking upon his body for the first time in decades. Brushing away the cinders, soft flesh remained. A man now stood where once the preternatural villain had been, his ambient radiation taken by the miniscule robots.

  He struggled to move, fighting the weight of his inactive armor. Without the energy, the systems began to power down, turning it into useless mass of metal. His muscles ached against the added weight, and he wanted nothing more than to collapse where he stood, but the adrenaline of freedom began to surge.

  He removed the helmet that had so long defined him. As its cyclopean lens withdrew from his face, the world’s unfiltered light struck him for the first time in years. He squinted against the barrage of colors, but did not pause to revel in this newfound liberation. The curse had been lifted, and he was free, but already the television cameras were zooming to catch his image. He moved toward the stairwell, his progress slow as he lifted heavy legs. With each step, he pulled apart the pieces of his metal shell.

  His mind exalted each patch of unclad skin, his thoughts whirling. Could it be real? Even Detch’s promises had seemed fantastical, like the myths of lost cities, seemingly genuine but never within reach. To walk amongst the crowd, to hold and touch and feel things with his own hands, these had been dreams, fleeting sensations locked in his subconscious for over fifty years. They now broke free, set loose with every piece of dropped armor. He stared at the truth of his naked flesh, exposing as much of it as he possibly dared.

  He kicked away some of the debris and started down the stairwell. It would be difficult to make his way past the guards on the ground floor, but he would think of something. They were few, a meager obstacle between him and liberty. He began to descend and stopped, head poking just above the entry hole’s darkness. Gazing upward, he closed his eyes and basked in the warmth of the midday sunlight. It felt good, natural. External heat pressing against him, he remembered the person he had once been.

  A shot rang out over the rooftops of the city, but John Blackman didn’t hear it. The bullet had already struck him by the time the sound approached. The kill was clean and quick, something he would have appreciated on a professional level, but it didn’t matter to him now. His body slumped lifeless into a hot pool of his own blood.

  His helmet’s dying radio picked up the transmission as a police sniper reported back to his commander. Its speakers carried the message that all sign of hostiles had been eliminated. John couldn’t listen, nor could he care.

  The rooftop was secure.

  Chapter Forty-seven

  A week later, a slow procession made its way through the city’s downtown streets, passing between crowds of onlookers pressed along each sidewalk. Thousands had come to attend the senator’s funeral, leaving their homes and workplaces to pay homage to the fallen hero. Those who couldn’t make the trip huddled around their televisions, watching the memorial from afar. The nation gathered in sadness and remembrance.

  David stood in the midst of the mass, but despite their number, the people were solemn and serene. Grown men stood stoic, and children saluted quietly as a unit of soldiers marched along the thoroughfare. The middlemost man hoisted the American flag, the colors of red, white, and blue flying before the mournful audience. It was a parade worthy of a hero, David thought, and it was well deserved. He squeezed Sybil’s hand.

  The woman had not left him since their experiences together on Cronus Tower. They had shared much, and grew closer which each passing moment. He looked at her beautiful, pale face, knowing her grief.

  She whimpered as the casket containing the remains of Senator Jack Williams, now known to be Captain Valour, rolled by in the slow convoy. She wasn’t alone. Many dabbed their eyes and sniffed with moist noses, the public mourning their fallen hero. The recent revelation of his identity had served only to strengthen their emotions, making their grief more intense, and the end of the procession passed, the crowd filled the street behind it in an obedient
mass.

  David and Sybil followed as well, walking to their final destination at the heart of Valour Park. Jack’s would be a special memorial, the park having been built to commemorate the hero. Now, a new marble tomb waited at its center to commemorate the man, serving as a symbol to all who stood before it, a reminder of heroism and self-sacrifice.

  The group shuffled through the park’s wrought iron gates, and the sidewalk became a bricked path between long paddocks of green. Blades of manicured grass caught the shy rays of sun, gleaming with verdant life. David walked behind Sybil, comforting her with both hands upon her shoulders and keeping their bodies close. Her could feel her tension and despair as they neared the burial site.

  Throngs of mourners gathered around a waiting priest, his black-clad figure becoming obscured by their number. The man watched as pallbearers placed the casket atop a small dais. He clutched his bible, cleared his throat, and walked toward the microphone, ready to address them all. The crowd grew silent.

  As the eulogies began, David’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He answered it as quickly and covertly as he could, wondering if it might be Femme. The woman had stayed on with the project, remaining back at the Hall to monitor the city’s safety. Pressing the phone to one ear, he turned from the small stage.

  “Hello. This is Mead.”

  General Frost made himself known on the other end, his gruff voice unmistakable. “Hello, Lieutenant. I’ve been reading your reports.”

  David scowled. He’d been dreading this call, and wished he had checked the phone before answering it. “It has been a while, General, but now is not the best time. Could I call you back?”

  “I’ll make it quick, son,” the General said, ignoring David’s question. “I’m calling to let you know that your commission remains open.”

  David listened to the General, but his eyes watched Sybil, considering her quiet sorrow. The girl had enjoyed a special connection with Senator Williams, and despite recent ordeals, she loved the man. His death had caused her considerable pain, and her sorrow troubled him.