“You!” Blake shouted, pointing at the man. “What the hell is this place?” He felt rage against the injustice he witnessed building inside him.
Big Boss ignored him and focused on Radoslav. “What the fuck are you doing here, Rado, and who is this teenage punk?”
Radoslav silently walked to a chair and sat down. “This punk is your socoteală…your reckoning. Why don’t you explain to him what you do here, Arnold?”
Blake walked to the middle of the room where the man had dropped his gun. He picked it up and pointed it at the man. “Yes, Arnold, tell me exactly what you do here.”
Holding a gun against someone is very different than using my mind. I’m not sure if I like this.
Big Boss spat on the office floor before answering. “You can’t stop us. We will find you and we will take you down.” Blake shifted the gun and squeezed the trigger, firing at the wall next to Big Boss. The bullet struck the sheet rock, and a little cloud of dust exploded into the room. The man yelped with fear.
“I didn’t ask you for your opinion. I asked you what you did here.”
“We repackage the drugs and prep them for shipment. They come in on the cargo ships and we get them ready to be distributed to the dealers.”
“What kind of drugs?”
“Cocaine and heroin, usually with fentanyl. Actually, there’s a lot of fentanyl-laced drugs in this shipment.”
“Where do you distribute them to?”
“All over the place,” the man answered smugly, waving his hand around for effect.
Blake fired a second round into the wall. Sheetrock above the man’s head exploded from the wall. “Where?” he shouted.
The man shrieked and wet himself; his light blue suit darkening as urine soaked his crotch and ran down his thighs as fear took over. Tears rolled down his face. “All over New England. Schools, bad neighborhoods, junkies, anyone who will buy it. Like I said, everywhere.”
“Where do you get the women and children slaves who work for your factory?” Blake asked angrily. He felt himself becoming hot, but he controlled it. “Like the drugs, they’re smuggled in here.”
“What? From where?”
“From all over. You saw the diversity in there, right? They come here looking for a better life from impoverished countries and we make them pay for their visas.”
“What kind of visas?” Radoslav asked, a tone of amusement in his voice.
The man shrugged. “Fake visas, so they won’t be deported if they get caught. They stay around here and work in the factory until they can pay their dues.”
“And how long does that take?” Blake asked.
The man’s face contorted with annoyance and he shrugged. “That all depends on their deal. I dunno, it’s complicated. Each person has a unique arrangement.”
Blake fired a third round into the wall; the bullet struck the sheetrock two inches from the man’s head.
He screamed and ducked, then shouted an answer. “Six to twelve months. Some of them can’t pay, so they have to work here longer.”
Blake saw Big Boss’s eyes shift to something behind him. At the same time, Blake heard a piece of glass crack. Without turning around, he put up his hand as two guards fired at him. He caught the bullets and sent them back through the men’s chests. Surprised, they fell backward over the gangway railing to their death.
Blake stepped closer to Big Boss. “You are going to let these people go, do you understand me, Arnold?”
Big Boss whimpered and cried, shaking his head. “No. I can’t do that. You don’t understand, they’ll kill me. You think I’m in charge of this racket? You’ve got the wrong guy, kid.”
Blake tilted his head and studied the man for a moment. “They’ll kill you?”
“My bosses…” The man grunted in fear and cowered.
“Dark Flame, don’t.” Radoslav said, his voice low.
No, men like you can’t be allowed to live. Kill him now!
“Then I’ll find your bosses and I’ll make them suffer, too.” Blake shifted the gun to his left hand and wrapped his right hand around the man’s throat, his mind and heart seething with a mixture of hatred and envy of the power this man thought he wielded over those misfortunate souls.
Blake squeezed, but was taken aback when he saw blackness leaching into the man’s veins, creeping away from his tightening hand.
What the hell? This is new…
The man gasped and nonsensically swatted the air, unable to breathe normally. Confused, Blake looked at the man’s eyes, ready to threaten him again, but Big Boss’ eyes had turned light grey and he struggled to breathe.
More of the strange blackness filled the surface veins of the man’s now ashen-looking neck and facial skin. It seemed to wrinkle, contract, and tighten over the man’s bones and muscles, pulling his jaw down as his eyes opened in a ghastly display of horror. The man’s hands shook and his fingers curved into creepy claws, his hands a mixture of paling white skin and blackening veins.
All of a sudden, Blake felt a surge of life and energy pass into his body. Surprised, he let go and stepped back several feet. Immediately, Big Boss inhaled and the color returned to his eyes.
No, you don’t get off that easy. Eliminate him.
Blake dropped the gun in his left hand, aimed both hands toward Big Boss, and released the building heat in his body. Flames leapt out from his hands and fingers, incinerating Big Boss’ twisting body in a matter of seconds, scorching the wall around him.
When he finished, he lowered his hands and watched the bones and burning organic matter succumb to gravity.
Radoslav shook his head and watched the burnt corpse slide down the blacked wall to the floor. “You are lucky man. A mere tenth of that power would help me do my job much faster.”
“You didn’t try to stop me?” Blake said, breathing heavy from emotional exertion. He turned to face Radoslav, his eyes still glowing orange.
“I’m not stupid. Big Boss needed to be removed from the equation. Besides, I could not stop you, no?”
“No, you couldn’t” Blake responded. I’m glad we understand each other.
❖
Blake’s hands gripped the steering wheel of his BMW tightly as he slammed his foot on the brakes. When the car screeched to a stop, he slapped the stick into park and pressed the ignition start/stop button to kill the engine. Though he was on his way home to cry his emotions into his pillow, he turned around and decided to confront Victor immediately about the atrocity he witnessed.
Four security guards who normally rotated through the evening watch of the facility stared at him through the windshield. He opened the car door and stood, pulling on his jacket while slamming the door shut with his free hand. He looked up at the main tower and wondered. Where are you, Victor?
His hands clenched into fists and his arms became rigid with anger at his sides. The four security guards regarded him strangely.
“Sir, you can’t park here,” one of the guards said.
Blake dismissed the man with his mind, throwing him thirty feet across the yard. He stared down the other three guards.
“I don’t see a problem with him parking there, do you guys?” Roger quickly asked. The other two guards shook their heads emphatically and shrugged, backing away a few paces.
Cowards.
Blake entered the building and made his way through the facility to Victor’s office. Security nodded at him and regarded him with fear and curiosity—a sign Victor knew he was coming.
Blake approached the open office door and marched into the office, not stopping in the doorway like he usually did.
Victor raised an eyebrow at him. He sat at his desk with his hands clasped together, his computer keyboard pushed out of the way. “The guards tell me you might be upset…”
“Upset?” Blake roared, his hands shaking with anger. The glass of a picture frame hanging on the wall shattered and exploded, raining glass upon the floor. Heat radiated from his body.
Victor’s
eyes shifted to the picture, then back to Blake.
“There were children working in that factory,” Blake shouted.
“I know.”
“You knew?” Blake asked incredulously.
Victor frowned. “Of course. I sent you down there, remember? I knew exactly what you’d discover. Clearly, I made a mistake. It seems it was too much, too soon.”
“What?” Blake asked, shocked at Victor’s dismissive attitude.
“You can’t handle it, Blake. And if you want proof, examine how you’re acting right now, storming in here like you suddenly own the place and think you’re going to get what you want because you’re pissed off.”
You asshat.
Blake raised his hand and reached out, grabbing Victor by the body and throat. He lifted him up and over his desk, then pulled Victor toward him, his feet dragging across the desktop until his fingers were wrapped around the man’s neck. Victor sputtered and coughed, struggling to free himself from the powerful hand squeezing his airway shut. As with Big Boss, blackness leached into Victor’s veins, creeping away from his tightening hand.
“I’m almost done playing your little games, Victor.”
The man tried to shout, but he only gagged and choked on air. He frantically clawed at Blake’s arm, desperation flashing across his paling face.
“You may have just come into power within The Order, but I cleared the way for you by taking out Mother Superior. You’d be wise to remember that.”
Victor gagged and more of the strange blackness filled the surface veins of the man’s now ashen-looking neck and facial skin.
“It was me who freely chose to play along with your elaborate ruse to take over The Order. I chose to bring Quinn to you, but you failed to convince him to join us. You may think I played a small part in your elaborate game, but this chessboard will be mine to dominate—and I will when the moment is right. Don’t think you can ever outsmart me, Victor. You’re just the ambitious fool who forgot he was working with a superhuman.”
Blake felt a surge of life and energy pass into his body. He let Victor go and dropped him to the floor. Immediately, Victor breathed in deeply and the color returned to his eyes and skin.
Victor pushed himself up to his hands and knees and mumbled something, but Blake couldn’t hear him.
“What?”
The man rubbed his Adam’s apple and cleared his throat, then spoke hoarsely, “Freeze asset one.”
Blake frowned. “What?” he asked again.
“Freeze asset one!” Victor said with more determination.
Blake shook his head. “Whatever, Victor.”
Victor looked at him incredulously, but Blake ignored him and walked out of his office.
❖
After a late dinner alone at the Riverhouse restaurant, angry lightning flashed across the sky over Portsmouth harbor as Blake steered his coupe into the private garage under his condo unit. An unusually late fall thunderstorm with high winds ravaged the area that night, and Blake suspected Victor was up to something at the facility.
What the hell are you up to, Victor? We shouldn’t have a thunderstorm this late in the season…and there’s no thunder-snow going on, either. Maybe he’s charging…or recharging the reactor?
He wasn’t sure which because he didn’t understand the mega-fusion technology, but he still believed Victor wouldn’t test it on a newer reactor core; the stakes would be too high if they failed. When the car stopped, he put the car into park and pressed the start/stop button. He cleared his throat to stave off the strong wave of emotions he felt bubbling up inside him as the faces of innocent people from the factory flashed through his mind’s eye.
Blake climbed out of the car and made his way to the elevator, his footsteps echoing in the concrete garage. Outside, the wind whipped and whistled through the leafless tree limbs and houses as cracks of thunder rolled across the sky with bright lightning flashes. He pressed the button for the elevator, which opened immediately. He entered and pressed the button for the top floor. Leaning against the back wall of the elevator car, he closed his eyes as the door slid shut and the elevator ascended.
Shutting his eyes was a mistake because the haunting images from his afternoon adventure filled his mind’s eye once more. He saw flashing images of the terrified, forlorn faces of the immigrant men, women, and children who were struggling to make a decent living in the illegal drug factory. It was the children’s faces that bothered him the most; the ones old enough to fold boxes, the ones big enough to check things on the conveyor belt, and the infants in bassinets next to mothers with no choice but to work as little more than slaves to some mega yet-to-be discovered crime lord. The experience unnerved him more than he realized; something he should have picked up on as Chappy drove him and a silent Radoslav back from Boston.
Victor was right, there’s a whole side of life I’m completely oblivious to. I cannot believe how much of the world is filled with filth and lies. If The Order exists to punish people like that, then I’m definitely in with the right crowd. Still, I feel compelled to act beyond Victor’s vision…to chase down and stop whoever runs that place and free those people…those children…
He felt emotions well up behind his eyes once more, but he clenched his fists and bit his tongue to distract him. He didn’t want to lose it outside of his condo. Moments later, the elevator chimed and the door slid open. Blake stepped out, only to be startled by the girl he had seen before on his floor a week or so ago.
“Hi,” she said, smiling. Her hand came up and she twirled her hair. “I’m glad to see…”
“It’s not a good time,” Blake said, desperate to keep his voice from wavering. He rushed past her and didn’t look back.
“Oh, um, is everything okay?” she asked.
Blake ignored her and waved his key fob near the door handle. When it unlocked with a beep, he slipped inside and shut the door behind him. He exhaled, relaxed his fingers, and leaned back against the closed door as emotions overtook him.
His legs buckled and he slid to the floor, sobbing. The sad, innocent faces of the children unpacking, repacking, sorting, and shipping drugs along the conveyor belts flashed in his mind again, and he let the tears flow. He heard them screaming, yelling at one another in sheer panic and fear in languages he didn’t recognize as they huddled for safety or ran out of the building. Blake accepted Victor needed to shock him, to have him see something that would galvanize him into action and embed him in The Order even deeper.
But what’s next for these people? What will they do tomorrow? How will they get paid if they can’t get jobs? Did I just screw up their lives?
No!
Don’t think like that; people like Big Boss need to be stopped and punished, no matter the cost. They can’t be allowed to torture people like that. I need to…rise up…and be who I’m meant to be. I need to find my place in The Order, fast. Being Victor’s errand boy isn’t enough for me any more.
Then, Blake’s mind replayed the final moments of Big Boss’ life, when Blake incinerated him. He stopped sobbing and gritted his teeth together.
The Order is not enough anymore; they might have the tools to get me going, but in the end…they should be working for me. When the time is right, I’m going to take over and there’s nothing they can do to stop me…there’s nothing anyone can do to stop me. It’s time to bring justice to the ones who exploit human life…time for the world to know who Dark Flame really is.
A brilliant flash of lightning and an ear-splitting crack of thunder overhead roused Blake from his thoughts. He wiped his eyes with his fingers and stared out the windows of his dark condo. More lightning flashed, accompanied by angry, rolling thunder. He pushed himself up from the floor and walked to the French doors in his living room.
“What are you doing, Victor?” he asked aloud, staring into the night. Noticing it had not started raining, he opened the French doors and stepped onto the balcony. The wind howled around him and lightning flashed. Blake felt something
unusual in the air around him. He put his hand out, spread his fingers, and concentrated on the sensation.
I can feel the orgone energy in the air, like Quinn noticed when we rearranged the panels in the Rangeley reactor.
Another loud crack of thunder rumbled overhead, and he looked up into the sky. Lightning in the sky high above illuminated the churning turmoil of angry storm clouds bearing down on Portsmouth. He looked across the Naval Shipyard on Seavey Island to the old prison, but he couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Besides, the shipyard buildings blocked his view of the facility.
He frowned, then shook his head. Soon enough, I’ll figure out what Victor’s up to.
3-9 | Goodwin Park
Quinn
AFTER EVERYTHING IN THE COFFEE shop had been cleaned up and reset for the next day, Quinn and his coworkers left around ten-thirty at night and said their goodbyes. Outside, the cold air smelled of rain and Quinn hoped he could walk back to his car before it poured. A popular afternoon and evening festival jammed Pleasant Street and Market Square, disrupting Saturday night traffic and the downtown area at the beginning of Quinn’s shift. Thus, finding a parking spot had been exceptionally challenging for all the employees and regular patrons. Quinn began his nearly one-mile walk to Cass Street where he had parked his dad’s SUV. He put his ear buds in and pressed play on his phone, becoming lost in the music.
I could fly there, but there are too many people about right now.
Around him, Market Square was bustling with loud, laughing college students and local folks who were barhopping and enjoying a night out. Quinn made his way through the busyness and walked down State Street and crossed into the quieter, residential area beyond Middle Street. Most of the cars that had jammed the parking areas were now gone and residents began returning their cars to their usual parking spots. Quinn still had several blocks to go when a strange noise caught his attention. He pulled his earbuds out of his ears and listened.
Silence.
He frowned, thinking he had heard things. That’s weird.
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