Impact (Book 1): Regenesis

by Harrison Pierce

  Nick and Strom sat at a blackjack table in the middle of the day on the outskirts of Vegas. Strom still hadn’t won a single hand, even after two hours, but he was determined to keep going until it paid off. Nick saw how much he’d lost and though he guessed Strom could toss his wealth around as he pleased he doubted the man could ever profit from all of his gambling.

  Nick worried when he stepped off the plane in Vegas, as he thought for a brief moment that he could possibly have been kidnapped by Strom, but Nick soon realized that wasn’t the case at all. He’d left Strom at the table and wandered around a few times since they arrived and since Strom didn’t really pay any attention to him, Nick turned his questions toward the reason why Strom took the detour there, if there was any real reason.

  “Wh-When…When are we going to train?”

  Strom glanced at the dealer and gave an empty reply, “We’ll work out later. Hit.”

  “So when then?” Nick asked again.

  “After this hand.”

  Strom said that over three-hundred twenty-three dollars before Nick asked the question, so Nick doubted there was any validity in the statement and simply looked at the cards he’d been dealt.

  Nick wasn’t legally able to gamble and he knew it. But Isaac Jones was twenty-one and since Strom wanted to toss his money in the toilet Nick agreed to join him if for no other reason than to speed the loss of Strom’s fortune and return the two of them to their original path. Nick was also unsure whether Mizuno would know where to look for them, (or if he already knew for that matter), and a part of him wasn’t sure he wanted to go back to that life. Though Nick realized he never left that world Mizuno brought him into, as he sat at a blackjack table with a fake ID and passport with the world’s deadliest assassin.

  Nick glanced at his cards, a nine of clubs and a seven of spades. He simply said he folded and tossed his cards to the dealer.

  Strom frowned and asked why he quit.

  “I had sixteen, and most of the low cards won’t show.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Even assuming this is a new deck, the chance of me drawing anything that would be of help to me is only about forty percent, assuming that you or the dealer don’t have any cards that are five or below.”

  Strom studied him for a moment. “I didn’t think you were that smart kid.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You seemed to me to be some average kid who didn’t give a shit about anything.” Strom asked for one more card but broke, swore, and asked their dealer Brittany, whose name he finally recalled after two hours of cards, to deal again.

  Nick reddened a bit and admitted he only knew it because his friend Drake told him about blackjack and probability. He cleared his throat and asked Strom, “You do realize you’re wasting a lot of money, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So why are you?” Nick asked. “It’s not like a big payout would help you much.”

  “It’s something to do with the money I make kid.” He asked for another card while Nick folded without so much as looking at the hand he’d been given.

  “Aren’t there things you want to own though?”

  He didn’t answer right away. Strom took another card, broke again, and asked for the dealer to take a break for a while as he wanted to talk with Nick alone. Strom glared at the kid and asked, “Why do you care what I do with it? It’s just cash, I can easily make more.”

  “I-I know. I know. It just s-seems…It only seems like a waste to me,” Nick told him.

  Strom glanced around to be sure no one could easily overhear them before he told Nick, “It is a waste and that’s the point. All I need is enough money to live, to eat, to travel, and to get the little things I want that’ll make me happy. Everything else is excess.”

  “Then why do you still…” he searched for the appropriate word, “Why do you still work?”

  Strom rubbed his eyes and sighed, “Do you realize that I only take a few jobs each year? I’m not out trying to make as much money as I can. I’m simply doing it to keep the wheels turning.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I like what I do because it gives me a thrill,” he said flatly. “I like the fact that there’s a chance someone could catch me, that I could die in a brief mistake or if I was set up. I like taking that shot and worrying about getting out of a city and being completely invisible for months at a time.”

  Nick looked away from him and apologized. He wanted to ask more questions but he felt Strom wasn’t in the mood. All Strom told him was that they’d start his training later in the evening and motioned for Brittany the dealer to return.

  Nick left though without a word.

  He walked outside into the sun, turned his phone back on for the first time in nearly a week, and discovered he had twelve messages from his friends; two from Ian, one from Jordan, three from Drake, and six from Amy. He immediately called her.

  It rang twice before she answered, “Nick?”

  He took a breath and quickly apologized to her. “I-I had to get out of there last week Amy. I’m r-really sorry for leaving you there.”

  “What happened?”

  He wanted to explain it to her, but a pit in his stomach told him she wouldn’t believe him. Nick searched for the words he needed to give her some explanation, but only told her he and his friend Ian got into an argument about his brother’s death and Nick needed to cool off.

  “I shouldn’t have acted like that.”

  “It’s okay…” she paused, “Did you want to meet up and talk or something?”

  Nick felt a twinge of pain at the fact that he couldn’t do just that. “No, I-I’m…I’m sort of busy today. How about I c-call you later th-this weekend and we c-can set a d-date, okay?”

  She reluctantly agreed and told him she was thinking about him before she hung up.

  Nick turned his phone back off and shoved it back into his pocket.

  “Did you call your girlfriend?”

  Nick didn’t need to turn around to confirm it was Strom. “It’s kind of hard to tell if we’re dating at all,” he admitted.

  Strom walked over and joined him. “Mizuno wanted me to stop you if you tried to call her.”

  “Why?”

  He said he wasn’t sure. “I think he didn’t want you to slip up and say you were somewhere away from your home, as most people don’t pack up and fly across the world off of a whim.”

  “So he wants me to lie to her?”

  “And everyone for that matter,” Strom added.

  “I don’t like that.”

  “Get used to it kid,” he smirked, “That’s a part of the job. Deceit is the backbone of the world and once you realize that you can walk about like everyone else.” Strom checked the time on his watch and muttered that they’d better head back to their hotel. He added that they were going to drive out to the desert to practice in about an hour after Strom found something worthwhile to drink.

  ---*---

  8:34 PM

  London, England

  Audrey stayed with Jason while the doctors tended to other matters. Jason's recovery neared completion and aside from piqued interest the concern for his health dissipated. He didn't share a room and Audrey believed it to be nearby an operating room, initially because of fears that he could relapse. Jason's room was very bare and cold. Machines lingered all around him but none of them monitored him. Doctor Reynolds believed he was in the clear, that he was fine. Her confidence reassured and slightly worried Audrey.

  Jason finally stirred though. He coughed first and once he'd composed himself he looked around until he found Audrey. “What are you doing here?” he asked her. His voice was low and rough, though Audrey guessed it came from the lack of use.

  Audrey didn't hesitate to rush over to his side and throw her arms around him. She held him tight yet worried she might have hurt him. All Audrey knew was how she never wanted to let him out of her sight again. “Jason, how are you? Are you in any pai
n? Are you okay?”

  He responded slowly at first before he repeated his question. “What are you doing here Audrey? Where am I?”

  “You're in the hospital Jason,” she told him. “Do you remember the fire?”

  He nodded and his gaze left her. Jason thought for a moment and remained as a statue before he slowly asked how Audrey escaped the fire. “I don't remember saving you.”

  “You didn't. I heard the alarms and made it out on my own,” she told him. “You ran in to save me.”

  “I didn't make it out in time did I?”

  She shook her head. “You were trapped, remember?”

  Jason said he recalled the fire and the heat but didn't remember much else.

  Doctor Reynolds joined them shortly afterwards and welcomed him to their hospital. “How are you feeling? Other than the exhaustion and fatigue, that is.”

  Jason told her he felt fine. “I don't understand,” he started, “How long have I been here?”

  “No more than a week," Doctor Reynolds told him.

  “Then why don't I have a mark to show for it?”

  Doctor Jamie Reynolds took a seat and recounted his admittance into their hospital. “You were covered in burns and frankly I didn't think you would survive more than a day or so. You've proved me wrong as well as a vast majority of medical science that says you should be comatose and near death.”

  “Then how am I alive?”

  Jamie Reynolds smiled and told them she had a theory. “It's outlandish to say the least and this is my own personal theory and no one else’s, but I believe you may have heightened regenerative properties Jason.”

  He stared back at her blankly and asked for clarification. “You think I can heal myself?”

  Reynolds nodded and started by stating that regeneration as a whole isn't rare. “We all have healing properties Jason, otherwise the human race would have vanished eons ago. However I purpose that you have heightened regenerative properties. For example, if an average man cut his hand it could take days or weeks to properly heal. If my theory is correct then you would heal much faster, possibly in a day or less.”

  “But what is your point?” he asked. “If I can regenerate as you said, what is it that you need to know?”

  The doctor only told him her curiosity about his survival was the only driving factor. “But you could represent change Jason, what if you hold some kind of key? You could help unlock the way to excel medicine into new realms. We could cure so much, possibly everything if we're lucky. And at the very least it would confirm how you managed to survive from the fire.”

  Jason told the doctor he doubted he was the answer to anything. “And how do you think you'll run these tests? Are you going to just cut me open and see what makes–”

  “Please Mister Templar all I would ask of you is a basic checkup,” she stopped him. “I want to see how your health progresses in the coming weeks and from there if I need anything else from you it wouldn't be more than an occasional vial of blood, so long as you would permit it.”

  Jason tried his best to scrutinize her words and analyze them for any ulterior motives, but ultimately he let out a breath and told the doctor he would have to think about it.

  Doctor Reynolds smiled and said she never expected an immediate answer. “I'll leave you two alone. We would like to keep him one last night for observation if that's alright.”

  Audrey thanked her again as the doctor headed out of the room, though Jason stopped her. He asked about the toxins she found in his blood earlier in the day and asked if she knew who was behind poisoning him. “Do you know where Joshua Todd is?”

  Doctor Reynolds frowned and said she'd never heard of the man. “What about him?”

  “He came in at night,” Jason started, “I don't know when but he came in and talked to me.” Jason sat up and closed his eyes while he tried to remember. “He muttered something about the accident, about the fire. He said I shouldn't have lived and that's when he injected me with those chemicals. I remember the pain was different from everything else I’d felt, very much like when you or one of the other doctors stuck me with needles. But after that I don't remember anything until now.”

  The doctor crossed her arms and asked how he knew his name. “He told you who he was?”

  Jason nodded. “He told me his name and that he represented the Lord. Joshua Todd told me he was a destroying angel of God and that I was supposed to die in that fire along with everyone else.”

  Doctor Reynolds said she didn't understand what it could be about but told him she would look through the security recordings throughout his stay to determine how Joshua Todd could have made it through their watch and into his isolated room. “He sounds like a terrorist Jason, possibly one of the Dáfù that claimed responsibility for the bombing in the first place. I promise I will personally look through the security feeds and will get police involvement in finding whoever this is.”

  “Doctor Reynolds,” he stopped her, “When you do find that recording, I'd like to see it.”

  “And why is that?”

  “I want to know who he is and I want to know why he tried to kill me.”

  She nodded and told him she would once they located it. From there she took her leave and left the couple alone.

  ---*---

  7:10 PM

  Bothell, Washington

  Drake sat in his living room with a Sudoku book. The alleged challenge printed on the cover misled Drake though, as he’d finished nearly half of the book without effort. He only bothered with the book to whittle the time away and it helped to quell the restlessness he felt. He told Hiromi who he was, who he really was over lunch earlier in the day, and she was fine with it. She was excited and asked him a dozen questions about what it was like to be the son of a billionaire, what the new Creeping Darkness game was like, and whether he’d ever played the game before.

  It worked out as Drake expected it to, yet it seemed sincere in contrast to his other so-called relationships he’d partaken of thus far in his life. Drake never managed to be with someone who he honestly felt was attracted to him and not his father’s money. It always seemed about who he was, hardly about who he truly was.

  Drake tossed the book onto a small square coffee table at the center of his brown ‘U’ shaped leather couch. It landed on top of a small pile of books Drake and his father read or leafed through on occasion, which ranged from a dictionary and thesaurus to the works of William Shakespeare and Edgar Allen Poe. Drake looked at the fifty-eight inch screen television that sat mounted into his wall. Beneath it were all of the videogame systems he’d collected through his life, along with a large assortment of games that reached the mid-hundreds. The young man frowned and realized he had what he wanted and hardly cared for anything more.

  Someone knocked at his front door. He wasn’t expecting anyone so he amused himself with answering it, if only to learn who was there and turn them away. It however turned out to be Ian and Jordan who wasted no time in walking right past him and into his home. Jordan initiated the conversation, “Is your dad here?”

  “No, why?”

  “Good,” Jordan grinned. He looked at Ian and eagerly told him to show Drake.

  Drake looked at Ian and then back to Jordan and asked, “What’s this about?”

  Ian hesitated at the start, but from Jordan’s prompting and Drake’s expression he relented. He cleared his throat, clapped twice, and all of the power in Drake’s house went out. After a moment the generator kicked in and power was restored, though Ian clapped twice again and the power of the generator failed as well. After a third time of clapping twice all of the power was restored to Drake’s home.

  Drake remained quiet while Jordan laughed. “Isn’t that the wildest thing you’ve ever seen?”

  Drake slowly agreed. He looked at Ian and asked, “When did you realize you could do that?”

  Ian fidgeted in place and admitted, “That isn’t all of it.” Ian took a shallow breath, pressed his hands together, and t
hen slowly pulled them apart. Between his fingers and palms shot bluish-white tendrils of lightning. Once he pulled his hands roughly a foot apart, the tendrils vanished and a small crack was heard.

  They all remained silent after that display until Jordan jokingly asked, “Does this mean Ian has to come up with a superhero name? And wear the whole spandex outfit and all?”

  “Be quiet Jordan.”

  “C’mon what color underwear are you gonna sport?” He laughed, “How about black and purple with a sky blue lightning bolt down your chest?”

  “Jordan.”

  “You could call yourself Captain Thunder, or Zeus, or the friggin’ Blue Streak!” he struggled to say through his laughter.

  “Jordan shut up!” Drake ordered.

  He muttered something but they ignored him. Ian asked Drake, “What do I do?”

  Drake wasn’t sure what to tell him. He brought them into his kitchen and retrieved drinks for all of them. Drake cracked his open, took a swig, and gave the situation a moment of thought.

  “What if…What if you’re not the only one?” Drake suggested.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Yeah, we haven’t exactly seen any multicolored weirdoes flying around,” Jordan reminded him. “Something like that would make headlines,” he opened his drink and before he took a drink he added that one of them would have heard something about it.

  Drake agreed. He frowned and told them about a serial killer in Baltimore who was believed to target people with alleged super powers. “It could be complete crap, but it’s something.”

  Ian nodded, “I guess after this it doesn’t sound too insane.”

  “But does that change anything?” Jordan asked them. “I mean, so there are others, who cares? Ian here has something they probably don’t so the only question we should ask is what’s next?”

  The three young men all stood in silence and though of what could possibly be the next step for Ian. Drake lowered his eyes to the dark wood floor and concentrated on all of the plausible avenues Ian could take with his new ability. Ian finally opened his orange soda and drank it while he stared off into space. Jordan was the only one who truly remained in the kitchen in both body and mind. He tapped his index finger against the side of the can and waited to see it either of his friends would come up with anything.