The Needs of the Many
La’Ron S. Readus
The Man Called X: The Needs of the Many
© 2013 by La’Ron S. Readus
Cover art by Wing Yudha
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means – electronic, mechanical, photographic (photocopying), recording, or otherwise – without prior permission in writing from the author.
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Table of Contents
Table of Contents
Introduction
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
About The Author
Introduction
“Making Detroit a Safer Place to Live, Work, and Visit.”
This has been the motto for the Detroit Police Department for as long as its citizens can remember. Whether or not the motto had lived up to its expectations over the course of years was a different matter in itself. But the end of the 20th Century, along with the beginning of the 21st introduced the Motor City to the refreshing breath of change; change that the city had not seen in quite a long time.
To developers in technological advancement and the means of science, Detroit, Michigan was uncharted territory; a new land of possibilities just waiting to be inhabited. Such attention to the city brought with it an abundance of new jobs and a revenue stream strong enough to bring the city back to the glory it once was, along with allowing its police force to once again live up to the expectations of their motto.
Becoming a member of the Detroit Police Force became something to be proud of – an honor among families within the metro area. It attracted strong and modest individuals wanting to prove themselves capable of great valor. It attracted those who wished to be a pillar of righteousness within their community, and those who had a natural craving for the urge to do good.
It attracted people like Thomas Millcrowe.
Having been instilled with strong family values and selflessness at a young age being raised on the city’s West Side, the African American male always dreamt of joining the prestigious force in order to both develop and gain the traits and attributes it took to be worthy of carrying the badge. After graduating college with a degree in Criminology, Thomas joined the academy and passed with flying colors, making Detective after his second year. However, it was also within that second year of his career in law enforcement that the young detective’s life changed forever.
Participating in a sting operation on the East Side of the city, Thomas Millcrowe was shot in the right side of his chest. Although he was protected from harm and fatal injury by wearing bulletproof armor, the force of the impact caused the young detective to lose his balance. In a disoriented state, one of the perpetrators took a four-by-four and forcefully thrashed it across the back of his head, knocking him unconscious.
Thomas awoke from the painful blow literally a changed man, finding out that he could do astronomical things. He could make things move with only his thoughts. He could hear the thoughts of others around him. Within months, Thomas found himself to be capable of performing psychic phenomena once only deemed possible in comic books and other various forms of fictional media.
He never questioned how he gained such power, but instead looked at having these abilities as a gift upon learning how to control them. However, it was the motto of the Detroit Police Department that made him realize how he would come to use his gift, and decided to branch off of it on a grander scale. Continuing to operate under the law, Thomas Millcrowe dedicated the use of his psychic abilities to make not just Detroit a better place to live, work and visit, but hopefully the entire world.
To friends, family, co-workers, and everyone he met on or off the job, he was just a man named Thomas Millcrowe; well-known detective for the Detroit Police Department. But when trouble arrives too big for a common man or woman to handle, when evil erodes even a simple piston attached to the Motor City, its citizens will know a different man; a man with a determination to see the city and the world grow to be a better place unknown to those he continues to stay vigil for. For those outside of the city of Detroit, they know him as the psychic protector. But for those within the state of Michigan, they know him as the man called X.
Prologue
The Michigan branch of Guy Technologies1 was filled with life. There, in the spacious suburban city of Southfield, Michigan, hundreds and thousands of minds blossoming with knowledge and innovation were present inside one spacious skyscraper along the M-10 highway; what Michiganders frequently call The Lodge. The foyer of the building’s main floor did indeed resemble that of its New York predecessor; a large white staircase with a touch of both contemporary and futuristic flare, aqua blue tiles across the floor, along with white walls and circular pillars that acted as both foundation and decoration.
Many people were present inside the building’s foyer, with the intent of reaching another portion of the building in general. The same could be said of one man who entered through the glass doors, as he made his way toward the security desk. He was African American, seemingly in his early fifties. His hair was neatly lined, cut in a low fade. He had a moustache that was cut low, yet populated the entire area between his nose and upper lip, complete with a broad nose, thin eyebrows and dark brown eyes that had an odd sense of seriousness to them. A good amount of stubble was present on his chin, which he began to stroke with his left hand the closer he came to the desk. When he arrived, he straightened out his metallic gray neck tie on his white dress shirt before adjusting his fitted gray suit jacket and matching slacks, then smiled at the two guards.
“Morning gentlemen,” he said as he pulled an identification card from the inside of his suit jacket pocket. “Reno Williams; Institute for Defense Analyses, Science and Technology Division. I’m here for my appointment with the head Mechanical Engineer here.”
One of the two guards at the table looked at the man’s form of identification, while the other began to search for the appointment in question on a nearby computer. The man with Reno’s identification card nodded upon his further inspection, then gave it back to him along with a card key of sorts.
“Here you go, Mr. Williams,” he said as he handed the information back to him.
Reno smiled and nodded as he retrieved his information, while the second guard threw a smirk his way.
“Well, you’re ten minutes early,” he informed. “Guess traffic on The Lodge cooled down a bit, huh?”
Reno nodded, showing off a bit of teeth with his grin. “You can say that.”
The guard that viewed his identification placed a tablet on the counter. “Place the fingers of your right hand on the screen, please.”
He did as he was told without hesitation and watched as the screen began to scan for prints. It flashed once to signal its finish, only for the guard to nod afterwards as he took hold of the device. He removed his fingers from the tablet as the guard returned it to his side of the desk.
“You’ll be taking the black elevator down the end of the hall to the tenth floor,” he informed. “Mr. Kingston’s office will be in the west wing and the last office down the left hall.”
“And security clearance?”
“Granted,” the guard behind the computer stated. “Just place your right hand on the pad to use the elevator. You’re in the system now.”
Reno nodded and thanked the two before heading in the direction of the elevator. Upon reaching it, he placed his fingers on the screen next to the doors and watched the computer register his name immediately. The doors opened after his full name appeared on the screen, refusing to close until Reno made his way inside. He looked at the buttons on the wall to his right, noticing the one that would take him to the tenth floor. However, that was not the button he pressed. Instead, he pressed the one with the figures S-3 boldly engraved.
The elevator hadn’t even began descending when Reno started to take off his suit, revealing himself to be dressed in a black slim one-piece jump suit underneath. He raised his wristwatch to his mouth, now sporting a serious look about his face as he pressed a button.
“Everyone in position?”
“Yeah, boss,” a voice said through the watch. “We’ll be on the other side of the building at the loading dock, just like you planned.”
“Good,” he replied. “The last thing I want is for the real Reno Williams to get here while I still am.”
The man who wasn’t Reno moved the watch away from his mouth, only to press yet another button. When he did, the time piece on the watch flipped open, and a swarm of metallic specks began to pour themselves around him. They molded to his body, attaching themselves to the black of the jumpsuit. Once they were all in position on his body, the specks hardened into a metal coating, and the Reno imitator was clad in a rather threatening suit of armor.
Despite the silver in color, the armor worn by the individual resembled the menacing design of the exoskeleton covering a vicious Emperor Scorpion. The ridges and roundness of the collective sheets that made up the chest plate resembled the pattern on the creatures’ abdomen, while the armor that consisted of his legs, arms and boots matched its ferociousness. His hands were clad in gauntlets that matched the spiked and intimidating look of the armor, coming to a point at the tip of every finger.
It was with those same fingers that the man exposed with open palms, as if he were expecting to be given something. When he exposed his armor-clad hands, more of the metallic specks poured from his wrists and twirled around the open air above his palms as they took flight. Like the specks that created his armor, they too took form and solidified. This form however, was that of a helmet.
It covered his entire face as he placed it on his head, made of the same metal as the rest of the armor while imitating the insect responsible for its inspiration. The top of the helmet was angled to a point toward the back of the head, while the sides imitated the insect’s left and right mouth parts. Those two portions of the helmet were guarded by a ventilation piece of sorts, colored black like the jumpsuit he wore underneath. Even the oval-shaped holes that were meant to be the eyes were covered in a black film to keep his eyes concealed.
When he placed it on, more of the metallic specks began to generate from the helmet. They trailed down his spine, becoming solid with every inch they covered until reaching the small of his back. That was when the lot of them extended from the man’s back and completed the suit of armor, by mounting a large metallic scorpion tail on his back. By the time the elevator came to a stop, the man who took the identity of one Reno Williams was the very affinity of a scorpion.
The elevator doors opened and the metal-clad intruder took his first steps forward. His tail twitched and curled with the sounds of gears and mechanics working within, as if it were a living extension of his body. A small hallway awaited the man as he left the elevator; the stinger of his tail jabbing a security camera perched on the upper left hand corner of the elevator and recoiling to rest over his right shoulder. The clanking sound of his boots echoed down the black colored walls with every step he made on the reinforced glass floors lit by neon blue light. Five hefty steps was all it took for him to reach the opposite end, where a gray briefcase rested on top of a rectangular counter, in the middle of a perfectly squared room, colored and lit in the same fashion as the hallway.
He approached the briefcase slowly and flipped open the lock with the sharpened thumbs of his gauntlets. Taking hold of both sides of the case, he gently flipped it open and stood in the radiance of the green light its insides began to shine on his armor. He didn’t move upon seeing the content of the case. He didn’t even motion with his head; the black material that guarded his mouth showed enough of his mouth to tell that he was smiling. However, there were three words that the intruder uttered that showed just how much he enjoyed this moment.
“Your move, X…”
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