“Well, I haven’t seen you for the past couple of days.”
Blake shrugged. “I’m fine.” Past couple of days? I know I didn’t feel right after my battle with Quinn last week and the power experiments I did with Victor and Dr. Madison really drained me, but…days?
She smirked and nonchalantly glanced at his chest. “Yes, you are. Did you have a nice Thanksgiving?”
Blake wrinkled his face with confusion. “What do you mean? Thanksgiving is tomorrow.”
She looked at him incredulously. “No, Thanksgiving was three days ago.”
“Today is Wednesday,” Blake countered.
She frowned and shook her head. “No, today is Sunday. Thanksgiving was three days ago. You didn’t come out of your condo and your car hasn’t moved. I figured I’d check on you in case something was wrong.”
“Nothing is wrong.” I think. Holy shit, did I sleep for almost four days in a row?
The red-headed girl, whose name he still didn’t know, started talking about going for a ride in the BMW, but Blake tuned her out, becoming lost in his thoughts. After the the last round of experiments, I came home, ate dinner, watched a movie, then went to bed. How did I lose almost four days of my life?
“I have to go,” he said abruptly.
“Well, uh, okay I guess,” she replied, disappointed. “Let me know when you want to go for that ride.”
“Yep.” Blake shut the door to his apartment and then ran upstairs and grabbed his phone. It was still attached to the charger on his nightstand where he had left it. When he picked it up, a number of missed notifications appeared. Sure enough, it was ten-thirty in the morning on the Sunday after Thanksgiving.
Shit.
He sighed, set his phone down, and walked into the master bath to shower.
When he had finished, he pulled on a pair of clean soccer shorts and went to the kitchen to make coffee. Waiting for the machine to finish brewing, he leaned against the counter and scrolled through his missed notifications. Most were Facebook or Snapchats alerts from his classmates, but no one had texted him, not even his parents, to wish him a Happy Thanksgiving. No one had called, either; not even Victor.
Fuming, he set the phone down and folded his arms across his bare chest. He stared at his toes and wiggled them, consumed by an overwhelming feeling of loneliness and frustration.
What do I do now. Wait…
He looked into the living room, his eyes tracking across his furniture until they rested on the notebook on the coffee table.
Radoslav’s notes. Rather, Melvin’s notes.
The coffee machine finished percolating and sputtered as the last few drops of water became steam. Blake removed the hot carafe and poured himself a cup. Setting the pot back into the machine, he walked into the living room and sat on the couch, placing the steaming mug of coffee on a coaster. He picked up the notebook, leaned back, and opened it to page one.
The handwriting in the notebook was messy but legible, scrawled by a man unsure of his last moments in this world. Melvin’s notes included organizational sketches, descriptions of the criminal hierarchy he worked for, a list of key players and their roles, the locations of other drug distribution centers, and the undeniable connection to the Archimandrion Council. Blake studied the various notes and drawings, attempting to make sense of the meanings and connections Melvin exposed in the notebook.
Blake was impressed with the man’s attention to detail. Clearly, the criminal organization he worked for appreciated his skill set. Blake didn’t understand how accounting or criminal finances worked, but he remembered Patricia’s comment about how Melvin discovered Arnold’s embezzlement of criminal funds. After reviewing the man’s notes, he knew why Melvin was the right man for the job.
He sipped his coffee and set about re-reading the pages he just read, this time giving the detailed secrets the attention they deserved. He picked a pen up from the coffee table and circled important names and locations in the notebook, presuming some of them would be his next targets.
Whomever Victor believed was the enemy—and had convinced Blake was the enemy—none of these mafioso-style criminals made the cut of global terrorists. Frustrated, Blake took another sip of coffee, sat back, and stared at the fire sprinkler head in the middle of his living room.
I can’t figure out why Victor sent me to the old power plant. He knew what I’d find, and I know he’s not ignorant enough to think I’d let it go. He must have known I’d pursue this…so why let me discover The Order’s funding comes from a criminal underworld? Any sane businessman knows you don’t cut off your funding when you need it to do more expensive projects…like make more super humans.
The hypocrisy astounded Blake.
One thing is for certain…if I continue attacking the criminal organizations, I’ll draw unwanted attention from The Order’s upper echelon, along with Victor’s keen sense of suspicion.
So, what is Victor playing at?
Blake flipped back through the notebook and stopped at the organizational hierarchy Melvin had drawn. Several ranks above Melvin, the mafia boss reported to a member of the Archimandrion, a man named Nigel Krause. This was the only man whom Melvin had set in the middle of a Venn diagram, the left circle containing the mafia, the right circle containing the Archimandrion. This diagram, he realized, was the key that exposed the Archimandrion Council’s membership. Once he took them out, he could move in and take over the organization.
But when?
If Victor is doing what I think he’s doing, I need him to succeed. I need him to create more super soldiers to command so I can take down anyone who gets in my way.
But what if Victor’s micro bug makes the super soldiers respond only to him? What if he’s about to abandon me and take over The Order? There’s nothing stopping him from turning his super goons against me.
He took a moment and reflected on all the things Victor had promised him from the beginning: a real opportunity to make a difference in the world; to take care of the individuals or groups who operate outside the justice system; a chance to become a true superhero instead of masquerading as a comic-book inspired weirdo; and a chance to be a part of something great, even if it meant living in the shadows.
Unless, Victor has been lying to me? Have I really been that stupid? What if Quinn was right?
He frowned and pushed the thought away from his mind. No, there is some level of truth in Victor’s words, but I can’t see what that is yet. Maybe it’s time I chased Victor down and figured out what he’s doing. Unless…Victor’s plan all along has been to have me wipe out the Archimandrion Council. There’s a thought.
He took another sip of coffee and considered his latest hypothesis until his phone started ringing upstairs, jostling him out his thoughts.
Blake set the coffee and notebook down and jogged upstairs to retrieve his phone. Glancing at the screen, he saw the incoming call was from Victor.
Groaning, he unplugged the phone from the charger and swiped right to answer. He put the phone to his ear and made his way back to the living room.
“Hello, Blake, how are you?”
“I’m fine,” he answered. Play it cool and don’t let him know I’ve missed the past four days.
“That’s great. I hope you had a good weekend?” Victor asked.
Blake rolled his eyes. He wants something, he’s being too polite.
“Not really, since I have no family anymore, and nobody, not even you, called or texted to wish me a Happy Thanksgiving.”
Victor didn’t respond.
“Hello?” Blake said.
“I’m sorry, Blake,” Victor replied. “It never crossed my mind. If it’s any consolation, I worked over the holiday.”
Black shrugged, not that Victor would have seen it. “Thanks, I guess. Do you need something?”
“As a matter of fact, I do.”
I knew it, here we go.
“So, what cargo did you lose this time?” Blake teased.
“Yup, very funny.
Actually, the Archimandrite is in town and would like to meet you today.”
Huh; you were out of town, I wonder where you are now?
“He does? Why?” Blake sat down on the couch again and leaned against the cushions.
“You’re of special interest to The Order, naturally,” Victor said. “And, we technically work for him. So, when he makes a request, we do our best to satisfy it,” Victor said flatly.
Blake detected the paternal tone in Victor’s voice. “I see.”
“Would you please swing by at two o’clock?” Victor asked.
“Are you asking or telling me?” Blake replied.
“Both,” Victor answered.
Blake smirked, and finding it interesting that Victor had the audacity to give him orders. “Where are you? I mean, where do you want me to meet you?”
“The Seavey Island facility, of course, where else?” Victor responded.
“Okay,” Blake answered. I guess a lot happened in three days. Looks like Alex didn’t report my interest in Victor’s whereabouts.
“I’ll be there.”
“Wonderful, thank you.”
“By the way, what’s his name?” Blake asked, leaning forward and glancing at the organizational diagram on the notebook page.
“His name?” Victor repeated.
“That’s what I asked. The Archimandrite, what’s his name?”
Victor hesitated, then supplied the answer. “His name is Nigel Krause.”
Blake’s eyes popped open with surprise. That’s the same guy in Melvin’s notes, the one in the middle of it all. Now I’m not surprised he came to see me at all.
Blake sat up and spoke with renewed interest in the conversation. “I can’t wait to meet him.”
“Very good. See you at two o’clock, then. Oh, and by the way, the Archimandrite will want a demonstration of your powers.
Blake grinned wickedly. “I’ll be happy to oblige.”
❖
Blake cleared the Seavey Island naval security gate and drove his coupe to the old naval prison that hosted the orgone facility on the far side of the island. He put his cell phone to his ear and when the call connected, he spoke. “I’m going to need you within the hour in your usual spot.”
“Very good, I come now and make ready,” Radoslav answered.
“Thank you,” Blake said. He hung up the phone and pulled into one of the empty parking spaces and studied the facility buildings. Security had been heightened and a number of guards, including some he didn’t recognize, watched him. They all carried high-powered automatic rifles and wore tactical gear with bulletproof vests.
A group of four guards, all wearing helmets, approached him. He got out of his BMW and stood tall, brushing down the black suit he decided to wear in honor of the Archimandrite’s surprise visit. He walked toward the facility entrance. Seymour, one of the regular guards who was manning the secure entrance, called out to the four men approaching him. “I wouldn’t get in his way if I were you.”
The four men blocked his path and their leader raised his hand. “Halt. State your business.”
“I don’t answer to the help,” Blake sneered. These must be the Archimandrite’s personal guards.
They raised their weapons and aimed at him.
“You will halt and state your business, now!” the leader repeated with a menacing tone.
“Are you threatening me?” Blake asked. “You have three seconds to get out of my way or you’ll be swimming back to the island, unless the riptide gets you first.”
The men looked at each other with confusion. “Listen, kid, just get back in your fancy car and go home, now!”
Blake reached back like a baseball pitcher and then thrust his arm forward, launching the four unsuspecting men into the air. They yelled and flailed about as the arc of their flight carried them away from the island.
“Please don’t kill them, Dark Flame,” Seymour said. “It’ll just piss off the suits.”
Blake smirked. Before they were out of his reach, he reversed their trajectory and pulled them back. They returned and collapsed to the ground, writhing in panic. Blake squatted next to the leader of the disoriented group and grabbed him by the jaw. He pulled off the man’s expensive black-mirrored sunglasses with his free hand and set them over his face. “The next time you see me, get out of my way. Consider this your only warning.”
Blake stood and walked into the facility, nodding at Seymour as the man pulled open the main door for him. Additional security had been deployed throughout the facility, including the reception area for the administrative offices. Blake approached the desk and Alex looked up from his computer and smiled. “They’re in the conference room.” Then, he jerked his head in the opposite direction from Victor’s office.
“Thank you,” Blake replied.
“Lots of extra security today, huh?” Alex asked, attempting conversation.
Blake shrugged. “Still won’t be enough.” He walked past the desk and made his way to the conference room. He stopped at the door and raised his hand to knock, but decided against it. Instead, waved his hand in front of door control and the red ring turned green. A moment later, the door slid open and Blake stepped into the doorway.
The two guards on either side of the door spun around and pointed their weapons at him. Blake glared at the man on his right as Victor extended his hand in greeting from the far side the room.
“Blake, welcome. We’ve been expecting you.”
The guard nodded at him and both men lowered their weapons and stepped back, resuming their positions on either side of the door. Blake stepped into the boardroom and the mechanical door slid shut behind him with a hydraulic hiss.
Remembering Ira’s training, Blake surveyed the room. In addition to the two guards on either side of him, two additional armed guards stood at the opposite end of the room. Victor sat at the head of the elliptical conference table, with two older gentlemen to his left, a third to his right. One of them had a distinguished beard while the other two were clean shaven. Each wore expensive looking, pinstripe business suits.
“Archimandrite, it is my extreme honor to introduce Dark Flame to you, The Order’s first successful superhuman genesis.” The men silently nodded at Blake.
“Please, join us,” Victor suggested, gesturing to the chair at his right.
Blake approached but did not sit down.
“Which one of you is Nigel Krause?” The three men regarded him with surprise and Victor’s face turned pale with embarrassment. They looked at Victor, then look back at Blake.
“I asked a question, did you forget how to speak?” Blake asked, perturbed.
The man closest to Victor’s left—one of the clean-shaven men—raised his hand slightly. “I am he.”
Blake sized him up. “You’re the Archimandrite?”
“Yes, I am the Archimandrite for the eastern United States.”
“And your friends? Who are they?” Blake asked.
“These are my associates,” Nigel replied. Then, the Archimandrite turned to Victor. “Is he always this belligerent?”
“Don’t talk about me like I’m not here,” Blake snapped.
Victor swallowed nervously and struggled to respond. “I’m sorry, sir, I…I’m not sure why…”
Blake raised his hand and cut him off. “Enough. The last time I checked, you weren’t my daddy, so don’t make excuses for me.”
The Archimandrite rounded on him. “The last time I checked, we made you, young man. You could show us some manners.”
“By accident,” Blake retorted. “I am my own person, whether you like it not, old man.” He folded his arms across his chest.
The Archimandrite’s eyebrows popped up with surprise. “What an impudent little cur you are!” Nigel replied. Then, he turned to Victor. “Really, Victor, control your experiment.”
Victor sat forward, anger blazing in his eyes. “What’s wrong, Blake?” His words carried tension, but remained curious.
Blake
grimaced, reached out with his mind, and squeezed the Archimandrite’s testicles, exerting enough pressure to make the man visibly uncomfortable. The man coughed and reacted with mild alarm, unsure of what was going on. Suddenly, panic spread across the man’s face and his head snapped up to Blake.
“What are you doing?” the Archimandrite asked.
“Victor told me you wanted a demonstration of my power. Well, here it is!” Blake ignited his eyes with orange fury.
“Guards!” the Archimandrite yelled.
Blake pulled the Archimandrite up from his seat and dragged him on his knees across the conference table until he was inches away from Blake’s face. The four guards responded by aiming their weapons at Blake.
“Unless you want to shoot the Archimandrite, lower your weapons,” Victor yelled.
The guards hesitated.
“Do it now!” Victor yelled, and the guards complied. “Blake, stop what you’re doing, right now. Freeze asset one!”
There’s that phrase again.
“Why are you here?” Blake snarled.
“I came to meet you,” the man said, his voice strained.
Unsatisfied, Blake squeezed the man’s torso. “If you lie again, I’ll crush you.”
“I want to see what our investments are up to.”
“I’m not your investment, I’m an accident.” Blake snapped.
“Regardless, your life has changed and we are concerned about…”
Blake cut the man off and squeezed harder.
“No, you’re here because I destroyed Mystic River and you’re worried I might do it again, or worse, learn the details about your precious Order.”
The Archimandrite’s associates looked at each other with surprise, but didn’t move.
“I…I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Blake squeezed harder, nearly crushing the man’s rib cage. Nigel gasped and clawed at his torso, unsure of what was squeezing him.
“That’s enough, Blake,” Victor yelled.
Blake uncrossed his arms and raised his left hand, pulled the sleeve back a little bit, and ignited the palm and fingers of his left hand, allowing them to become very hot. The Archimandrite tried to pull away, but he couldn’t break free of Blake’s invisible grasp.
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