The man apologized and left the room. It was colder than he thought it would be, emptier too. He didn’t feel alone though.
The voice returned. It was quiet, calm, and Ryan believed he was the only one who could hear it. It spoke, “Twelve.”
“What? Who,” he paused and looked at the open door and then whispered, “Who are you?”
“Rest.”
“Who are you?”
The voice didn’t speak again. Ryan sat there in anticipation of a response though it never came. He called back time and time again but to no avail. Ultimately he dwelled on the investigation all the while listening intently for the voice to return.
---*---
2:30 PM
Bothell, Washington
Jordan sat with Rachel in the grass at the entrance to their favorite park. His second chance at life began that morning with a drink, two cigarettes, and a joint. The light which saved him remained unknown to the both of them, as Jordan for a brief moment believed he might have saved himself, took a knife, pricked himself, but failed to heal in any manner. His troubled demeanor from the past few days left entirely as well. He couldn’t explain it, but since his near-death experience he’d been at ease, peaceful even. Crystal’s murder and the circumstances around it worried him, but he told Rachel he didn’t have a nightmare as he had each night since the murder. He felt healed entirely, aside from his continued conscious decision to drink and smoke.
Rachel hadn’t slept well since the incident. In fact, sleep practically eluded her altogether. Her thoughts surrounded the incident and though she wondered where the healing light came from, her primary concern was directed to the mystery behind the attacker. The only suspect she and Jordan could find was Vladimir, though Jordan failed to recall the attack. Rachel tried her best to excuse all thoughts of Vladimir’s role in the matter, though she held a troubling inkling of the idea with her.
Rachel held her wrist and felt naked. She hadn’t found her bracelet and that troubled her as well. Jordan even noticed the change in her mood and noted how uneven her makeup was, as well as her absence from their conversation.
“Rachel?” Jordan spoke, “You there?”
She blinked, looked at him, then smiled, “Yeah, sorry. What were you saying?”
“What happened last night honey?” he asked her.
That caught her off guard, “Honey? When have you ever called me honey?”
“Huh?” he briefly shook his head, “Sorry. Well what happened last night?”
“I don’t know. You left with Vladimir and then I found you dying in the alley outside of the party.”
“What do you mean by dying?”
“Jordan,” she paused, “You…Your neck was slashed open and I think your ribs were crushed.”
He took a breath, “Wow…” he stopped for a moment.
Rachel put her right thumb nail between her teeth and gnawed at it. Her hair wasn’t the same as usual, which Jordan took note of as well. She hadn’t styled it at all; it just fell over her shoulders, quiet and reserved. She lay back in the grass and stared up to the heavens. Light shone through in tiny beams through the leaves above them. Rachel let her mind wander as Jordan lay beside her and picked at the grass next to him. He stacked it into a rough pile with little regard for the lawn.
“If I was about to die,” he started, “How come I’m alive?”
She turned away from him, “I don’t know. I came out and found you there and then a bright light came and saved you.”
“What do you mean by saved me?”
“We already talked about this; it healed your wounds,” she bluntly told him. “It saved you.”
He paused a bit before he asked, “Was Vladimir there?” She said he wasn’t and Jordan scowled, “I bet he was the one who attacked me.”
She shot up, “Why? Why would you accuse him of that?”
“Look, I took him outside and then I’m dying and he’s gone? Don’t be so blind.”
“Don’t be blind? What is it that I can’t see Jordan?”
“It adds up. Don’t be so ignorant just because you’ve got a crush on him.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You two! You two danced like ten times!”
“We danced four times!”
“Well look who was counting.”
“Obviously not you. You were too angry and all I was trying to do was be a good friend to him by dancing with him a couple of times.”
“A good friend? You haven’t known him for more than two weeks! How can you two be such buddies?”
“We’re just friends you idiot!”
“I bet you remember every song that you two danced to last night.”
“At least I remember one song we danced to, Jordan. Can you even name one song we’ve ever danced to?” she asked.
“Hey I’m not here for an interrogation!”
“And I am?”
He stopped. Jordan let out a breath and apologized to her.
“What’s wrong with you?” she asked while she lay back in the grass.
He shook his head again, “I don’t know. Maybe I was just worried you two might run off together.”
Rachel laughed, “You what? You seriously worry that that could happen?”
He laughed as well. “I don’t know…maybe I’m just paranoid. I’m sorry.” He took her hand and asked, “What do you want to do for dinner tonight?”
She smiled, “Oh, you’re letting me chose tonight?” she asked sarcastically.
“C’mon, I always let you pick,” he said.
“No. You choose tonight,” she told him.
He grinned, leaned in, kissed her, and said, “Italian then,” as he knew it was her favorite.
She smiled, “Good choice.”
---*---
5:34 PM
Baltimore, Maryland
Doctor Grayson sat in a chair in front of Ryan and explained the different options he had for his prosthetic limb. He showed Ryan photos of the different models they had for him; the doctor detailed which models were durable, which were made of what material, and how they all worked.
“I would recommend one of three models,” he showed Ryan the images of three limbs. “These contain very advanced robotics.”
“Why are they special?” Ryan asked, though distant from the conversation, as he stared past the man and out the window.
“Don’t worry about this,” the voice whispered.
“All three of them are light and should only weigh the same as your leg did before. And all are extremely durable too,” he flipped to show the interior of the limbs. “And within a week or so, calibration would be complete and the limb would act and function as good as before, if not better. Once calibrated, the limb would be covered with a prosthetic skin that would blend and feel like your real skin.”
“You don’t need to worry about this,” the voice persisted.
Ryan ignored it and tried to concentrate on the prosthetic situation, the Cladis case, and all the while he tried to determine whether or not he was going insane.
“Mister Sage?” Ryan snapped back to reality. The doctor continued, “You haven’t given me an answer yet. Are you sure that you’re up to this right now? We can talk about this later if you aren’t feeling up to the task just now.”
“Tell him to leave.”
Ryan sighed and agreed with the voice, as he truly wasn’t ready to discuss anything, and as such he asked the doctor if they could talk about it later. Grayson left and Ryan tried to get to sleep.
“Rest…” the voice told him. Ryan agreed with the voice and tried to sleep, as he hoped that he’d be able to recover as much of his strength as he could. Ryan also hoped the voice would leave once he woke.
---*---
6:13 PM
Washington DC
Thousands of people scurried through the streets of the American capitol; in and out of air-conditioned museums, restaurants, and all about the monuments out in the sweltering humid air.
They tread on the past, they gazed at monuments, and they saw the face thereon, and ignored the core, the soul, the purpose, the meaning of those memorials.
Nick and his newfound Japanese ally sat beneath trees by the reflection pool at the Lincoln Memorial. The man sat on the bench in his trench coat, gloves, dress shirt, and slacks and despite the heat and humidity he seemed entirely comfortable, in contrast to the sweaty young man who sat on the ground with his back against the seat of the bench. Nick’s coat lay slung over the back of the bench.
The Japanese man told Nick they were in Washington DC to meet someone who was a part of his project, though they’d been there for nearly an hour and Nick began to believe he suffered from heatstroke. His Japanese ally knew he was fine though.
They looked at the masses as they walked by the large strip of filthy water. Nick always believed the water in the reflection pool was clean, clear, and pure, yet there it was not forty feet away and he knew it was some thicker-than-water substance filled with animal urine and fecal matter as well as any other sort of trash that found its way there.
“Your nation is going to waste.”
“What? W-Why?” the exhausted boy asked the man.
“Only twenty-three percent of these people actually know what this pool symbolizes,” he began, “Yet there it is as an accurate reflection of your society, in all of its degradation, corruption, and so-called glory.”
Nick scowled, “I-I take it you’re n-not American then.”
“No.”
“A-Are you Japanese?”
“Racially, yes. My nationality isn’t though.”
“Th-Then what a-are you?”
“Nothing; I was Japanese but now I don’t belong to any nation.”
“H-How d-do you l-lose your nationality?”
“You stop acting as a citizen should.”
Nick paused, then asked, “W-Why are w-we here?”
“We’re here to gather someone.”
“For the p-project?”
“They’re already part of it, so we’re merely picking them up,” he reported.
“Wh-Who are they?”
“Someone similar to you.”
“Like me?”
“No, similar. ‘Like’ implies that they are close to identical in their properties. ‘Similar’ implies the same thing, only vaguer.”
Nick tried to figure out what he meant, but shook his head and asked, “I-I thought that y-you were going t-t-to help me.”
“I am going to help you with the investigation, but I have to help you first.”
Nick paused, confused, and asked for clarification.
“At the moment you’re basically what every American teenager is, rather useless.” Nick sarcastically thanked him before the man continued, “You’re learning who you want to become and what your life can amount to, that’s why you’re useless at the moment. Granted, not every teenager is useless, as there are hundreds if not thousands of teenagers who are at this very moment providing for their families, taking care of ill family members, acting as heads of their households, or any number of other successful and meaningful scenarios. Those examples are not you Nick.”
“Th-Then who am I?”
“That’s what we’re going to find out,” the man told him. Nick wanted to say something but the Japanese man stopped him by stating, “Nick, you need to stop stuttering.”
“What?”
“You stutter because of a poor self image you contain within your own conscious. You think poorly of yourself and as such you believe that what you say has little to no relevance in any topic of conversation, including this one, which you are obviously the subject of. It has almost nothing to do with your speech but with a trepidation you hold toward life, friends, family, and the opposite sex as a whole.” The man looked at Nick and continued, “You need to stop for two reasons, the first of which is because it’s a sign of weakness. Your friends also see it and know that it’s not only a sign of weakness, but they know it makes you self-conscious.” The man paused as he saw a young African-American woman approach them.
“What’s the s-second reason?” he asked.
“It’s annoying,” the man rose to greet the young woman.
The young woman only carried a small backpack with her. “Who’s this?” she asked the man.
“Nick Jacobs,” he turned to Nick, “Nick, this is Melanie Washington.”
“What can he do Mizuno?” she asked.
“Y-Your name’s M-Mizuno?”
“No, it’s Mizuno,” he told Nick. “Only one ‘m.’”
“What’s with you?” Melanie asked.
“Have you been training?” Mizuno asked as he scanned the crowd.
“Why do you even ask?” The man ignored her question. “Yeah I have. D’you want me to air the F-word on the radio again?”
“No, try China though.”
“I can’t broadcast that far!”
“Well that’s why I said ‘try’. Train more, get to China,” he flatly told her.
“W-Wait.” He looked at them both and asked what they were talking about.
Mizuno rubbed his eyes, “I’d hoped you might have taken a guess at it, but basically we’re talking about what super power you have.”
Nick looked at him blankly. “Super…power?”
“Yes.”
“L-Like flying?”
“Similar to flying. Basically there has been a sudden development of super powered individuals across the world over the last few decades. A majority of people have seemingly useless abilities such as the transference of one liquid into another, such as water to wine, or things such as the ability to prevent or force people from sneezing or to sneeze. You, Melanie here, and I however have rather valuable abilities which I plan on utilizing to shape this world for the better.”
Nick forced a small laugh, “You’re j-joking, right?”
“Nope,” Melanie told him. “Mizuno here hasn’t already proved his skill to you?”
“I did but Nick assumed I was simply stalking him,” Mizuno answered for Nick. “He’s less likely to accept what he believes to be outlandish things such as super powers, which in all honesty makes him more of a problem at the current moment than an asset.”
“Why don’t you show him what he can do though?” she suggested. “If he used his power, whatever it is, then he’d believe us, right?”
Mizuno nodded, “Yes, but we’re not able to do that at this moment. We’ve got to get Mithra first.”
“Wh-Who?”
“You’ll learn soon enough, just wait.”
“When do we leave?” asked Melanie.
Mizuno retrieved three tickets from his coat, “In two hours.”
“Wh-Where are w-we going?”
Mizuno faced Nick and said, “From now on I won’t respond to you if you stutter in a sentence. However if you restart and can complete the sentence without stuttering, I’ll listen.”
“Jerk,” Melanie muttered.
“Thief,” Mizuno replied as he resumed watching the crowd. Before she could respond, he stopped her, “Just drop it.” He glanced past her, his eyes flashed as he stared at a man who walked past the reflecting pool, and he frowned. “We need to leave. Melanie,” he tossed her a set of car keys without looking away from the man in the crowd and said, “Get the black Honda Civic, license plate 052-HJP, and pull around now.”
They left in opposite directions without another word; Melanie ran to the street to find the car, Mizuno moved through the crowd toward the reflecting pool, and Nick remained where he was while he watched Mizuno work.
Mizuno followed a pale heavyset man in a large brown coat and a worn black baseball hat. Within a second of Mizuno tailing him Mizuno seized the man, broke his neck, and threw the man into the pool. He retrieved a handgun from his coat and in a fluid motion fired the gun at the ground.
The area erupted into panic. Nick watched intently as people fled as fast as they could, while they screamed and shouted that Mizuno was
a killer with a gun. Before Nick realized it, Mizuno was back beside him despite the chaos and fired once through the crowd and hit the man in the water. The man exploded, which sent the liquid, garbage, and scraps of metal from the man’s bomb flying in all directions.
Mizuno grabbed Nick and Nick’s jacket and dragged him toward the car Melanie sat waiting in. Once they were inside the Honda, Mizuno muttered, “That makes twelve.”
Mizuno rode shotgun, Melanie drove, and Nick sat in the back while he tried to gather his thoughts. Mizuno tossed the coat next to Nick. “H-How did y-y-you…” Nick stopped, took a breath, and slowly asked, “How did you do that?”
“It was obvious. The man weighted at least two-hundred thirty-five pounds and wore a heavy coat. He would have given himself heatstroke very quickly in this weather. The rest was only a second’s work on my part.”
“B-But…But how did you know he had a bomb?”
“How was I certain?” he asked for clarification, which Nick confirmed, “My ability enables me to learn anything I want about someone so long as I can see them.”
“And y-you…You found out that he had a bomb?”
“Yes.”
“D-Did you h-have t-t-to…Did you have to kill him?”
Mizuno nodded. “Are you familiar with an organization known as the Dáfù?” Nick said he knew of them. Mizuno continued, “They’re terrorists that have made a startling number of attacks recently, today’s making the twelfth in the past three weeks. This was however the first of their suicide attacks that’s been countered since the incident in Riyadh when Ghost saved the United States President’s life.”
“B-But did you…Why kill him?”
“‘Justitia Omnibus,’ justice for all. What I did was lenient; he was going to die anyway. And compared to what would have happened to him once he was captured, he’d be grateful.”
“Did you know that was going to happen?” Melanie demanded. “Is that why you had us meet there?”
“No. That was just an eerie coincidence.” Mizuno handed Nick his passport and ticket, both read ‘Isaac Jones.’
“So we were lucky?” Nick asked.
“I’d say so.”
“No,” Mizuno muttered. “Now the Dáfù’s at the very least aware that there are people who can counter them which is a disadvantage to us as we’ve lost the element of surprise.”
Impact (Book 1): Regenesis Page 21