★★★★★ Mind-blowing
"Blake Northcott is making nerd dreams come true; action, suspense and comics all at once?! Try not to fall in love – I dare you!"
- Regina Carpinelli, CEO and Founder of Stan Lee's Comikaze
★★★★★ Simply awesome
“A fun, mind-bending adventure that moves at a blistering pace. If you love superheroes you need to read Vs. Reality.”
- Mark McKenna, Artist, DC Comics and ‘Star Wars: The Old Republic’
★★★★★ Exceptional
“A thought-provoking, white knuckle page-turner of the first degree.”
- Billy Tucci, Creator of ‘Shi’ and Founder of Crusade Comics
★★★★★ A must read for any action/adventure fan
“Fast-paced and exciting, risky, and has wicked awesome characters! Complete with a twist at the end that leaves you totally wishing for the next book!”
- The Bookish Brunette, Book Reviewer
★★★★★ Kick-Ass on steroids
“If you enjoyed that movie, you'll love this book. It's like tossing comic books and action novels into a blender.”
- John Corwin, Author, ‘No Darker Fate’
★★★★★ An adrenaline rush
“Blends the aesthetic of a comic book movie with the mind-f#@& of a Chuck Palahniuk novel. It's an adrenaline rush. It's a commentary on addiction. It's the source material for a future summer Blockbuster.”
- Amy Leigh Strickland, Author, ‘Olympia Heights’
Books by Blake Northcott
THE VS. REALITY SERIES
Vs. Reality
USA / UK / Canada
Relapse (Vs. Reality Volume Two)
USA / UK / Canada
Legacy (Vs. Reality Volume Three)
USA / UK / Canada
THE ARENA MODE SAGA
Arena Mode
USA / UK / Canada
Assault or Attrition (Book Two in the Arena Mode Saga)
USA / UK / Canada
Final Empire (The Conclusion of the Arena Mode Saga)
USA / UK / Canada
NOVELLAS
The Manticore Ascension
(A Short Story in the Arena Mode Saga)
USA / UK / Canada
Relapse
Book 2 in the Vs. Reality Series
Kindle Version 2.0 / 05.15.2015
Vs. Reality is Copyright © and Trademark 2011-2015
Blake Northcott, Digital Vanguard Inc. and Noösphere Publishing
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the publisher or author, except in the case of a reviewer, who may quote brief passages embodied in critical articles or in a review.
Credits
Written By
Blake Northcott
Editors and Beta Readers
Jim Deley
Jeff Geddes
J.D. Hunter
Sean Molloy
Mike Stephenson
Cover Photographer and Model
Maria Angelopoulou
Table of Contents
Chapter One – Incite
Chapter Two – Mystification
Chapter Three – Pejorist
Chapter Four – Promethean
Chapter Five – Dysthymia
Chapter Six – Blindside
Chapter Seven – Clairvoyance
Chapter Eight – Covalent
Chapter Nine – Sybarite
Chapter Ten – Truculent
Chapter Eleven – Vigilance
Chapter Twelve – Enlightenment
Chapter Thirteen – Allegiances
Chapter Fourteen – Nimbus
Chapter Fifteen – Tristful
Chapter Sixteen – Kismet
Chapter Seventeen – Damasu
Chapter Eighteen – Perfidy
Chapter Nineteen – Smash
Chapter Twenty – Tarantula
Chapter Twenty-One – Divagate
Chapter Twenty-Two – Mercurial
Chapter Twenty-Three – Subterranean
Chapter Twenty-Four – Stochastic
Chapter Twenty-Five – Aphotic
Chapter Twenty-Six – Collision
Chapter Twenty-Seven – Uragirimono
Chapter Twenty-Eight – Divulgence
Chapter Twenty-Nine – Obliterate
Chapter Thirty – Nescience
Chapter Thirty-One – Riposte
To be Concluded in ‘Legacy’ – Vs. Reality Volume 3
About the Author
“I always felt that if I had super-power, I wouldn't immediately run out to the store and buy a costume.” – Stan Lee
Chapter One – Incite
New York City | June 7, 2012 | 11:45pm, Eastern Daylight Time
Donovan Cole fires a volley of blistering punches like rounds from a machine gun, so fast that his opponent is unable react. He continues his assault with a brutal knee to the abdomen, and a sharp elbow strike that opens a wide gash over his challenger’s eyebrow.
His opponent’s will is strong, but he’s battered and bloodied, unable to absorb any further punishment. Crumbling to the canvas he rolls to his side, gently tapping the mat three times as a sign of surrender.
The fight is over, and Cole thrusts his fists into the air.
Nearly five hundred people leap from their folding metal chairs, screaming and cheering. Gary’s Gym fills with a thunderous round of applause that rattles the ancient windows and shakes the rusted doors. If the building were any older you’d think the noise alone would cause the walls to collapse, bringing the entire dilapidated structure down into a pile of rubble. Luckily, at least for this evening, the building remains intact.
Gary climbs into the ring and embraces Cole, patting him on the back several times.
“How was that for a comeback fight?” says Cole with a beaming smile, wrapping his arm around Gary’s shoulder as the referee raises his other hand in victory. “Not bad for someone without a warrior’s spirit.”
“Your ground game has gone to hell,” Gary replies, his voice like gravel. “What was that bullshit with the arm bar? You can’t just let someone pop out from under you and get back to his feet. That type of crap might work when you’re fighting a guy on a losing streak, but in the big show you’d get eaten alive after a rookie mistake like that.”
Taking the criticism with a grain of salt, Cole remains buoyant. “Come on, Gary, I just won. Can’t you just let me enjoy the moment? You know, bask a little? It’s been a while since I’ve had a good bask – I think deserve one.”
“Basking is for bitches. I want you back here tomorrow morning at six o’clock sharp, and you’re gonna drill that arm bar submission five hundred times. And if you don’t have it down after that, you’re doing five hundred more.”
Basking is for bitches.
Plato.
Socrates.
Gary Marciano.
Gary isn’t well known for his ineloquent and often profanity-laced pearls of wisdom; he’s renowned for his ability to smash things with his fists. Every fighter in New York City knows that if you want to learn the sweet science of pugilism, he’s the man to call. At one time a Golden Gloves champion, Gary was a serious boxing contender in the heavyweight division before a severe knee injury ended his career prematurely. Now, at the age of fifty-five, he spends his days working with rookie fighters to refine their technique, and helps develop their mental and physical toughn
ess. Gary claims that he can turn a ninety-pound weakling into a human battering ram in less than six months, and he’s proven it on more than one occasion.
But to Cole, Gary isn’t just a trainer, manager, and dispenser of unwanted advice – he’s the closest thing to a father that he’s ever had.
With his arm still draped over Gary’s shoulder, Cole looks down and flashes a cocky grin. “Six? I was going to be here lifting weights at five tomorrow morning, but if you need the extra hour of beauty sleep then go right ahead, princess.”
“Don’t get cute with me, kid; I can still throw leather with the best of them. I might have to step into the ring with you for a couple rounds and beat that cocky smile off your face.”
As the audience continues to applaud, Cole gazes out into the crowd and notices a tiny spark towards the back row, as if someone was shining a laser pointer in his direction. He studies the pulsing light for a moment and quickly realizes that it’s not originating from a person: it’s coming from the wall at the back of the building. Several more bright red lights spark to life, melting a six-foot chunk of mortar into a sopping brown puddle.
A team of soldiers wearing black helmets and body armor storm into the building through the hole in the wall, fanning out among the crowd with military precision. Their movements are silent, being drowned out by the cheers and applause. They’re armed with long batons shaped like cattle prods, side arms, and rifles strapped to their backs.
A trooper surprises a man in the back row, jamming the end of his baton into the base of his neck. He activates the trigger, sending a powerful electrical shock into his victim. Before the man has a chance to scream his nervous system catches fire, causing a complete cellular collapse. His body melts like the wall of the building, reduced to a thick, gelatinous liquid that splashes into the floor.
His girlfriend shrieks in terror, and within seconds the crowd becomes aware that they’re surrounded. Panic ensues and people run in every direction. They trip over chairs as they slam into each other, frantically scrambling towards any available exit. The troopers skillfully block the escape routes, shepherding the crowd away from doors and windows as they arbitrarily melt anyone within arms-reach.
Amidst the carnage a Japanese man emerges from the opening in the wall, casually sauntering into the gym attired for a business meeting. He pulls the remains of his cigarette from his mouth and flicks it aside, ignoring the callous destruction of human life that surrounds him.
Goto.
Cole balls his hands into fists and prepares to lunge forward, but a number of troopers form a perimeter around the ring, making their way through the ropes. The referee tries to escape and is blindsided with a baton strike to the back of his head. Gary runs to his aid and lands a right hook to the trooper’s body, snapping his ribs with a dry crack.
Cole is suddenly swarmed from all directions; flailing batons fracture his skull and smash his spine. Several soldiers attempt to restrain him but he tosses them aside. He throws his elbow into one of their helmets, smashing it like an eggshell.
Goto notices Cole, Gary, and several of the trainers fighting back. Without hesitation he pulls open his jacket to expose the leather holster tucked beneath his armpit. He produces a large Desert Eagle handgun, and levels the weapon towards the ring.
Cole makes a move to intercept but there isn’t enough time.
A bullet sails across the gym in a fraction of second, entering Gary’s forehead and exiting the back of his skull. The grey matter bursts from his cranium, spattering a nearby trooper’s visor.
Cole screams out and drops to his knees, cradling his friend’s lifeless body in his arms.
Several troopers press their batons against Cole, electrocuting him with enough power to disable a charging rhinoceros. After a short convulsion his body falls limp, collapsing to the canvas. Yanked back to his feet, Cole’s arms are placed into thick metal restraints.
Goto moves towards the ring as he returns the smoking gun to its holster, re-buttoning his jacket and straightening his dress shirt. He approaches Cole and places a hand under his chin, tilting his head upwards.
The shackles are constricting, completely immobilizing Cole’s arms. He twists and thrashes in an attempt to break the bonds, and one of the troopers responds by electrocuting him again, jamming a baton into his chest. Cole grits his teeth and resists the urge to scream, refusing to give them the satisfaction; even as the electricity courses through his body he continues to maintain eye contact with his attacker.
“That’s more than enough, I think,” says Goto in his dry British accent, dismissing his soldier with a leisurely gesture. “Dreadful etiquette, I apologize. I know you were hoping for a visit from someone else this evening.”
“You son of a bitch. As soon as I’m free I’m going to tear your goddamned head off.” Pulsing veins protrude from Cole’s neck as he leans forward.
“Now now, Mister Cole, just relax for a moment and try to focus. As I was saying, I know you were expecting someone this evening, but who? A young woman, perhaps? Blond hair, blue eyes, a tattoo of angel wings across her back?” Goto cocks his head slightly to the side, placing his hands in his pockets. “I’m sure you’re already aware that she doesn’t exist. She’s a figment of your imagination.”
“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”
“I think you know exactly what I’m talking about,” says Goto. “You just don’t know that you know it; at least not yet. But that’s precisely why I’m here.”
“Enough with the bullshit, Goto. If Dia is already dead then just kill me now and get it over with.” Cole glances down at the remains of his mentor, twisted and lifeless at his feet.
“Once again,” says Goto with a smile, “you’re failing to see what’s directly in front of you.”
And with those words, Gary’s Gym disappears.
The roof turns to snow, and the soft flakes drift gently down on to Cole’s face, sticking to his eyelashes. He cranes his neck to look in every direction, and struggles with the realization that he’s now standing in a large forest clearing surrounded by Japanese cherry blossom trees, illuminated by a bright, pastel-blue sky.
The crowd, the troopers, and the bodies have also disappeared, leaving him alone in the lush snow-covered field with Goto. His arms are still extended to his sides, but nothing is holding them in place.
Now free from his restraints he prepares to attack, but Goto’s appearance shifts and changes, transforming into a familiar young woman: Dia. She stands naked and perfectly still, staring into his eyes with disarming composure. Her platinum hair billows around her face as her eyes crackle with energy, as sharp and electrifying as lightning bolts.
“Is this who you were hoping for?” says Dia, almost in a whisper. Her voice resonates clearly in Cole’s head, although her lips never move. “Part of me wants this as well, but I think we both know the truth: this is a mask. I look this way because it’s what you want – it’s who you wish I could be. But beneath this façade I’m as bruised and disfigured as the world we live in.”
Dia’s blond hair reverts to black, and her blue eyes fade to a dark chestnut brown. She raises her hands to shoulder-level, palms open. She reveals her forearms, scarred and slashed; some of her cuts are so fresh they’re still trickling tiny drops of blood down to her elbows. “This is what’s beneath the surface: open wounds. They’re raw and exposed, scabbing over to protect themselves. But the world can’t heal itself, and neither can I. It’s too late for that.”
“But…those are just cuts,” says Cole. “They’ll heal. Give them enough time and they’ll always heal.”
“Some wounds are permanent; you know that as well as I do. And the worst ones are invisible.”
“So what are you saying?” he asks as he steps forward, placing his hands on Dia’s shoulders.
“I’m saying that you need to open your eyes. You’re seeing clearly when you look into the mirror for the first time, but you need to look even further. L
ook out at the world around you. The real world.”
Cole shakes his head in frustration. “I still don’t understand. I’ve tried to wrap my head around this but I just can’t. I don’t know what’s wrong with reality, and I don’t know why people are changing; I can’t figure out what’s causing us to manifest.”
“You will,” she replies with a reassuring smile. “It’s only a matter of time. But knowing why is just the beginning. Once you understand the answer you’ll have to go to the source of the question; you need to stop the person responsible.”
A thunderclap echoes overhead and the sky darkens until the clouds become charcoal. A gust of wind tears the remaining blossoms from their branches leaving the trees stripped bare. The pink petals dance and float around them, fluttering in the wind before turning to ash.
As the air grows colder the snow begins to fall with more intensity, burying Cole and Dia up to their knees in matter of moments.
Cole screams to be heard over the sound of the rushing wind. “I don’t understand…this doesn’t make any sense! Please, before it’s too late, tell me about this wound! Tell me who caused it!” As Cole pulls Dia close to his chest she reaches up to touch his face, and a look of intense sadness overcomes her. She starts to move in slow motion – freezing over as the wind picks up – transforming into a beautiful, pristine ice sculpture.
“You can’t leave like this. Don’t leave me!” Cole grasps at the frozen statue, begging her to come back to life. He’s stunned by a tap on his shoulder and turns to face Goto; the barrel of a gun just inches from his forehead.
“My sincerest apologies,” says Goto, “but Dia is going to leave you one way or another. And you’re powerless to stop her.”
He squeezed the trigger, and with a deafening blast Cole awakens.
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