Human Superior

by C. S. Won

  “Dmitri, demonstrate what you can do, please,” Morgan said.

  Dmitri lowered the knife. He suddenly looked nervous, maybe even scared. “Employer, must I?”

  “I have to insist.”

  “But my love has told me that she loathes the taste of my flesh, and it pains me when I force her to do so.”

  “Dmitri.” Morgan’s voice took on a more commanding tone. Dmitri frowned, and looked to be on the verge of tears. Finally, he stuck his arm out and clenched his fist, the muscles tightening underneath the flesh of his arm. He made a quick cut with the knife, and a thin line of pooling blood ruptured from his forearm. He angled the knife, so the blade was held the other way, and covered the wound with his hand. After a moment, he removed his hand, and the cut was no more. The blood had evaporated, leaving not even a pasty red smear behind. No scar remained either, nothing to indicate that he had just been wounded. He turned his arm around, flexing it. Good as new.

  “Dmitri is our team medic,” Morgan said. “With just his touch alone, he can heal and fix just about any injury.”

  “That’s . . . amazing,” Jae had to admit.

  Dmitri took out a cloth, and gently wiped the blood away from his knife. He was whispering something to it, but Jae couldn’t hear any of it.

  “And here’s what I can do,” Rena said. She took a step forward, then another, then suddenly a burst of wind exploded around them, causing Jae to pull back and close his eyes. When he reopened them, she had vanished. Jae blinked at the emptiness before him.

  “Where did she—”

  “Right behind you.”

  Jae turned and saw Rena standing behind him, with her arms crossed and a sombrero suddenly on her head.

  “San Miguel de Allende is beautiful this time of the year. You should visit,” Rena said.

  “What—”

  She was gone again, another blustery gust of wind left in her wake. Jae turned and saw Pax and Morgan smiling, clearly amused. Dmitri didn’t seem to notice or care, tending to his knife.

  “Over here!”

  Jae whipped around. Rena stood next to the garage doors, a tomato in her hand. “Where—”

  She walked up to Jae and handed him the tomato. “One ripe tomato, straight from San Marzano Sul Sarno. Absolutely delicious.” She tipped the sombrero back from her head.

  Jae stared at the tomato. “How?”

  Rena took the tomato back from Jae and took a bite of it. “Speed, sweetheart. I can run the entire circumference of the world in just a little over thirty seconds.” Her face suddenly became a blur, and all that remained of the tomato was the stem.

  To say that Jae was impressed would have been an understatement. While their powers were not as destructive as Daniel Duffy’s, they were amazing in their own right. It continued a theme, in which every new neo-human Jae met demonstrated an ability that he didn’t think was possible. Was there any limit to these powers?

  “With your help,” Morgan said, patting Jae on the back. “We can put a stop to this nightmare. No one will have to get hurt anymore. Your city—the world—will be safe once more, and we will finally be able to heal. Join us and help me stop my son.”

  If Jae accepted, then this was to be his team, one that could potentially accomplish the task set before them. With Rena’s speed, Dmitri’s healing, and Pax’s menace, the odds suddenly didn’t seem so daunting anymore.

  “Where did you find these people?” Jae asked.

  “They were already a part of my PMC team and were the only three to be struck by the global storm.” Morgan stuck a hand out. “So, do we have a deal, son?”

  The rain fell harder now, drumming against the roof. The wind pushed some of the rain inside the station, spattering the side of Morgan Duffy’s well-pressed suit with a light spray. He made no move to step away, one side of his face already slick with rainwater, standing firm against the storm as he awaited Jae’s answer to his proposal. Should he accept? The temptation was certainly there. Whatever Morgan’s motives were, he spoke truth when he said Daniel Duffy needed to be stopped. The bloodshed had to end, and barring any potential alternatives, this seemed as good an opportunity as any to see that through. But distrust lingered, and there was something—that indescribable feeling of uncertainty—that gave Jae pause. What the mogul wanted, ultimately, was akin to a dog whisperer, a person who could calm the deranged terrorist down and lull him into a state where he would be agreeable. Jae had no experience with such a thing, and despite the reason given, it still baffled him as to why he was chosen. Was it truly because he was the only man Daniel would listen to? Or was there something else that Jae could not see?

  “I’ll need to think about this,” Jae said.

  Morgan lowered his hand. “If it’s about compensation, then you have nothing to worry about. You will be handsomely rewarded for your effort.”

  “I don’t care about money. I just need time. This is a big decision you’re asking me to make.”

  Morgan nodded. “Absolutely. How about I contact you again once I find my son, and you can give us an answer then?”

  “And when will that be?”

  “Days, weeks, months. Hard to say.”

  “Fine.”

  “My assistant, Donnelly Stone, will collect your contact information, then.” Morgan waved over his man in black, who was already approaching with an expensive-looking tablet in hand.

  The rain had slackened, falling in weakening patterns. Thin breaks in the clouds were starting to form, with faint shafts of light pushing through the gaps. All of Morgan Duffy’s people had already loaded back into their cars, except for his man in black and Morgan Duffy himself, who waited as Jae gave his contact info.

  “We can do great things together, beautiful things,” Morgan said. “We’ll bring peace back not just to Atlanta and Chicago, but to the world.”

  “You’ll have my answer once you call,” Jae told him.

  “And I look forward to it. Just remember that innocent lives are at stake here.”

  Jae said nothing. He watched the billionaire enter his limousine, with his assistant closing the door gently behind him. When the assistant entered the car, the vehicle was revved to life, backed out of the driveway, and it disappeared into the distance.

  Chapter Ten

  The backdrop burned red with fire. Army soldiers, their boots clicking in unison, and their helmets glinting from a misty sun, marched through the streets of Moscow shoulder-to-shoulder, their faces stern and sweaty. Fleeing from the encroaching army was a ragtag group of revolutionists, their faces wrapped with the Russian national flag, and outnumbered and outgunned by a more superior enemy. A few brave souls stood their ground, hurling rocks and Molotov cocktails at the soldiers, but that would be their last act of defiance, as return fire caught them either in their chest or their face.

  A woman emerged in the distance, one hand on her head, the other out before her, and wearing the Russian flag around her neck like a cape, standing alone against the multitude of troops that moved against her. She waved her hand around in a small circle, and this small action lifted a number of Russian soldiers off the ground, as if invisible strings were pulling them. The soldiers cried out in surprise, dropping their guns to the streets below, and flapping their arms as if they were birds. The caped woman jerked her hand to her left, and the action prompted a few of the soldiers to fly headfirst into a nearby brick building, their faces exploding in a bone-crunching shower of blood, the force of the push so strong that many of them were drilled into the building itself. The caped woman pulled her hand downward, and the few that remained suspended in the air dropped neck-first onto the ground, snapping their heads back into a violent, grotesque angle.

  A nearby reporter narrated the action in rapid-fire Russian. The camera shook incessantly like it was filming an action movie. A few of the soldiers, having witnessed the impossible, started screaming incoherently and opened fire at the neo-human. A raised hand stopped the trajectory of the bullets in mid-fl
ight, just a few feet away from the neo-human’s body, and when she lowered her hand, the bullets, as if on command, scattered to the ground in a sprawling heap. For their troubles, the offending soldiers had the rare pleasure of knowing what it was like to have their torso twisted at a 180-degree angle, a spinning finger breaking their bodies in half.

  An infantry tank, emerging from the rear, bore a line through the remaining soldiers, ready to put an end to things, but the neo-human was already working to steer the vehicle away, doing her best to divert it from its current path with just her mind alone. The effort appeared to leave her in pain, her face ripe with veins and sweat, and the first hint of blood slithering out of her nose, but she was succeeding, routing the war machine away and driving it straight into a nearby cafe. The tank, however, swiveled its cannon towards the neo-human, who seemed oblivious to what was happening, and opened fire. There came a roaring boom, and a belch of fire and smoke, followed by the sound of concrete being pulverized. The broadcast was lost for a moment, audio and visual rendered to checkered fuzz, but when the picture was finally jolted back, the neo-human was gone. Only a smoking crater remained where she once stood, along with bits and pieces of the caped flag she once wore.

  Jae winced away from the TV.

  “Things are getting worse.” Clay said.

  “Who was that? Was she working with Daniel?” Jae asked.

  “I doubt it, because Daniel would have indiscriminately killed everyone, and it appeared this neo-human was at least helping those revolutionists. But that won’t matter, because what’s going to be shown repeatedly on TV is her massacring those human soldiers. That’s going to be the lasting image. People are going to use that as a rallying cry against us, as further proof that we must be dealt with.” Clay gestured at the TV. “And I have no doubt that this is just the beginning, a taste of what’s to come. Governments are already starting to throw brute force to match brute force, and if this continues, who knows what they’ll do next in desperation. The world is on the brink now, except this time it’s not a fight between nations, but between man and new man.”

  Violence begat violence, and with enmity widening the rift between humans and neo-humans, each instance of conflict only added to the possibility of a full-scale war being waged. A peaceful compromise was beginning to look impossible.

  “Has Morgan called you about his proposal yet?” Clay asked.

  “No,” Jae said.

  “When did he last speak with you?”

  “A few days ago.” Jae looked at Clay. “I’m still unsure if I should accept or not.”

  “Morgan Duffy is a professional criminal, a snake in an expensive suit. My advice is you should not accept his proposal. I know you want to stop his son but teaming up with Morgan is not the answer. You can’t trust him.”

  Jae leaned back in his seat. “But he didn’t deny that his son was the bomber, and that’s huge coming from a guy like that. That tells me he’s willing to do whatever it takes to bring an end to all this. If he’s offering me a real chance to stop his son, then I have to have to take it, right? It might be the only shot we have.”

  “I thought you had a low opinion of Morgan? I’m surprised you’re even conflicted about this. This should have been an automatic no.”

  “We have to face facts. Our options are limited. We can’t take another attack.”

  “There has to be another way to stop Daniel.”

  “If you have an idea, then I’m all ears.”

  Clay clearly didn’t, as he cursed under his breath. “If only Marlowe was there with you. He’d know for sure if Morgan was being dishonest.”

  “But he wasn’t, so we’ll have to work with what we have. I know you don’t like it, but the most sensible move may be to set aside our suspicions and come together to stop a common foe.”

  “But what if they’re both foes?”

  Marlowe, sitting on a bed, looked up from the comic book he was reading. “I told you that you should have let me go to the fire station, dad! I could have ridden in a firetruck, or seen an actual fire, or—”

  “Hush, boy. Something could have happened to you,” Clay said. Marlowe frowned, and went back to his reading. “Listen, Daniel is a certifiable threat. That is undeniable. The man needs to be stopped. But teaming up with his father? Are you really willing to sell your soul to the devil just to stop Daniel? There has to come a point where you stop and think to yourself, is this worth it?”

  “Have you met Morgan before or something? You seem to really have it in for him,” Jae said.

  Clay glanced over at Marlowe. “Let’s just say I’ve dealt with his type before. To be in his position, you have to be a real sociopath. Nothing good can come out of making a deal with someone like Morgan Duffy. He will screw you.”

  “What exactly do you think he’ll do?”

  “I don’t know. Any number of things, I imagine. Just know that for people like him, they had to step over a hell of a lot of people to get to where they are now.”

  “Maybe I’m just not seeing the forest for the trees. I know the man is a scumbag, but unless your sources can pull through and find his son, then I see no other way to stop him.”

  “My sources aren’t plugged in. They have no one in Daniel’s network.”

  “Then I may not have a choice.”

  “There’s always a choice.”

  Jae sighed. “We’ll see.” He turned the channel, changing it to a game show, and stood from his chair, pacing the small spaces of their hotel room. He stopped near the window and lifted a corner of its curtain to peer outside. What a terrible place to stay. The parking lot had been long neglected, accumulating damage over the years, with potholes and cracks running all across the asphalt. Garbage littered the ground, with fast food wrappers, empty beer bottles, and discarded clothes slowly decaying in the hot sun. Cars were either double-parked or simply left astray, the denizens of this fine establishment caring little for the rules of parking. Across the street from their hotel, on another long stretch of asphalt damaged beyond repair, homeless people pushed shopping carts filled with garbage bags, dwellers of an area long forgotten and oft-neglected.

  Jae moved away from the window and surveyed the room. A mysterious odor—harmless, Marlowe assured, although Jae had his doubts—had taken residence with them. Wallpaper torn down in strips revealed a strange yellow undergrowth on the plaster underneath, something akin to mold or some other natural decay. Cockroaches were a frequent house guest, and no matter how many they stomped out—at least half a dozen a day—they continued to appear, undeterred by the three human occupants who shared their living space. About the only positive Jae could find with this asylum for human destitution was that it didn’t moonlight as a regular for crack heads and gaunt prostitutes, although he wasn’t even entirely sure of that either. He had yet to meet any of his neighbors.

  But for all its faults, it had done its job safeguarding his guests. Marlowe had yet to report on any irregularities since their move to this humble abode.

  Jae sat back down in an armchair. “I know I’ve asked this before, but how exactly does the prodigal son of a billionaire end up being a terrorist bomber?”

  “Is this a rhetorical question or . . . ?” Clay asked.

  “Amuse me.”

  “Morgan told you himself, if he’s to be believed. He was tough on him.”

  “But to the point where he lashes out and kills thousands?”

  Clay shrugged. “Rich kids are the worst. Not a single empathic bone in their body.”

  “Speaking from experience?”

  “I’ve met a few in my line of work. They act polite and well-mannered, but behind their eyes, there is nothing. No spark of life, no excitement. Just . . . dead.” Clay took out a pack of cigarettes, stared at it, and apparently thinking better of it, put it back in his pocket. “They’re dumb as shit too. Heads filled with cobwebs. Not a lit bulb in any of them. When you combine that with an endless stream of drugs and cash, and with a posse of en
ablers paid to stroke their ego, then what you get is someone who has very little reason to care about the unwashed masses. We’re nothing but shit on the bottom of their well-polished shoes. It wouldn’t surprise me if strangulation was a favorite past-time of theirs.”

  “Then that makes Daniel really dangerous if your experience holds true.”

  “If his relationship with his father is as screwed up as you make it out to be, then you are correct. Nothing is worse than a privileged brat acting out his revenge fantasies.”

  Jae nodded. He began thinking about Adam Erste.

  Nothing worse indeed.

  Chapter Eleven

  With their path illuminated by the moon, they threaded their way through the trendier parts of midtown Atlanta, mostly alone in their celebration of the week’s end. Jae thought he’d see revelers lining the block from one end to the next, inebriated to dull the pain of the past few weeks, but very few festivities occupied these streets. Nowhere was that buzz of humanity, that charge of excitement when inhibitions were loosened. People had stayed in, cowed by crippling fear, and Jae couldn’t blame them. Too much was at stake. Staying home was advice he would have urged others to follow if they valued their time on this earth.

  But the specter of death wasn’t enough to deter at least a few brave souls from indulging in the temptations of the night. Here and there small clumps of college kids trawled, slapping backs, and laughing towards the sky, celebrating another day survived and letting everyone within earshot know about it. A handful of couples, enticing fate, sat together on street benches, or walked hand-in-hand, lost in their own worlds, daring unforeseen circumstances to split their love apart in ways unimaginable.

  “Asshole! Piece of shit!”

  Then there was, of course, Gabe Kwon, always one to never let a Friday night go to waste, stumbling ahead of Jae in a drunken stupor. So uncoordinated was his walk that he nearly tripped over himself with every step he took, half-growling and half-groaning as he flailed his arms for balance. Minah Soh, his date for the night, was at least an arm’s length away from him, frowning in annoyance.