“Do not break the walls!” The room's voice came alive. The room flickered worse than before. It was as if it was giving out.
“Why not!?” he yelled angrily. He wanted so bad to break the walls yet he had no clue what urged him to do so.
“You need to stay here. To rest.”
“No! You keep saying I shouldn't break these walls but you never tell me why!” He roared in anger. He could hear his friend's screams. They were getting louder. “Tell me now before I break these damn walls down!”
“If you break them, you are free. Breaking them will make you understand anger. Will make you feel power like you never felt. It will show you the meaning of fear.” The room's voice sounded upset. As if it already knew he made up his mind.
“I don't have a choice. I have to save him,” He let his voice lower. “I can't watch my best friend die.”
“You might die.”
It struck him hard. Up until this point he never thought about death. Every once in a while after a mission he wondered if he made a mistake what would have happen. Him dying, how people would react to that? Yet, up until then, he never sat and really thought about it. What happens if he dies, then what? All this fighting, all this killing, is it all worth the price of death? He never questioned it. Now, he was forced to answer it.
“You said might. There's a chance I won't.”
“If you don't die, you will suffer.”
“If I watch him die, I'll suffer anyway.”
“It is your choice now. I gave you options and you keep dismissing them. I won't hold you back any longer. You can stay here, rest, sleep, let the dangers of life pass you by. Or you can head off and save your friend. Will your friend be grateful though? What if a fate much worse is held for him. Then what?” The voice let the question linger. It was a tough one to handle. He never thought about the what-ifs in situations.
“You probably think I'm crazy but in life we only live “what ifs”. What if I did this? What if I did that? What if I never met him? What if I never saw this letter? What if I died against that first Unknown. What if, What if, What if. What if I stand here and wait another few minutes while my friend gets broken into two. What if. Well, I gotta stop worrying about that. I just have to do what I think is right and hope for the best.” He looked at the wall, placing his hand on it and felt its coldness. “I have to chance to do something different. To help people that need helping and-” He pulled his hand back. “-I can't ask what if I'm doing the right thing. I have to act on it!” He threw his fist forward. It shattered the wall. He was then thrown into complete darkness.
Nick rolled from one side of the wall to the next on the porch. The second he came out of cover the Scarecrow unleashed a few pines and a spike. All missed, but barely. Its aim was getting too close for his liking. He bit his lip as he leaned against the wall. “If I make one mistake we're both dead...” Another three pines came flying overhead. They landed into the side of the house. “...then again if I sit here we're dead anyway.”
Peter came from behind the car and threw a ball of fire. It was a weak throw, as if it was his first time throwing a baseball. It was so weak it rolled oddly to the side of the Unknown. However, the creature was so focused on Nick he didn't bother to look to the side. Peter opened his palm wide and the ball blew into flames. It caught the Scarecrow on its side. It hollered in anger as it tried to brush off its straw side with the boney hand.
Nick peered out from cover. He saw Peter leaning on the curb. “I told you to stay still!” He roared. He rolled out of cover and on to the lawn. He came from behind the Unknown and gave it a hearty swing. The bat smashed the back of its head hard, yet the creature came right back up from it. It was more worried about putting out the fire.
“I thought you needed some help,” Peter muttered as Nick came closer.
“Yeah, but now you can't even stand.” Nick watched as the Scarecrow got most of the fire to simmer down.
“Yeah, well looks like this thing is invincible.” Peter could barely catch his breath. He was heaving, as if the gloves were killing him.
“Take those off.” Nick looked back at the Unknown. It was getting the fire out of its hat now.
“I can't. You need them.”
“I need you not to die.”
“I'm fi...”
“I said take them off.” Nick looked back at the Scarecrow. Just then as the smoke was rising into the air from the creature he figured it out. “Wait. You have one more in you?”
“Yeah, I think I can create one more.” Peter gripped tightly to Nick's arm. Nick could feel the sweaty palm as he helped him to his feet. He looked into his friend’s eyes. Anger, determination, conviction. All these were burning through Peter. Nick saw what he needed to take down this creature.
“Put the fire on the bat.” Peter looked up, puzzled. “I need you to make this bat on fire.”
“What? Why?”
“Just do it.” Peter placed his hand on the bat. “Hurry!” The Scarecrow turned around. readying itself for another spike launch.
The bat ignited quickly. It started in the middle and as Peter made his way up the bat it followed in a wave. After it was done Peter collapsed to the ground. “Hey, you alright?”
Peter returned the gloves to Rod form. He looked up at his partner, one eye shut. “That's all I got. Your turn.”
Nick nodded. He looked forward, his bat lit up the entire dark night. The cold air couldn't even lessen the flames that waved so viciously. “All right funny guy, time to burn you down. Get it? Burn you down.” The creature laughed as its spikes and pines readied themselves. “Glad you liked your own death joke.”
Nick rushed forward; the pines and spikes came at him. He moved to the side, putting his free hand up to his face. He could feel the pines striking his leg, his stomach, even one in his finger. He pushed forward but then a spike came flying towards his face. He put his palm up and the spike impaled it. He was almost thrown back but he pushed forward. Using one hand he swung with everything he had. It slammed into the creatures face, flames bursting all over. It crumpled to the ground fast, trying to slap away the flames.
Nick knew this was his one chance. He tried to swallow the pain he was suffering in his injured hand. It hurt so much he was beginning to feel dizzy but he lifted his bat high above his head. It came down on the Unknowns stomach. Flames caught on the straw quickly. The beast cried out. Nick continued. He slammed his bat on the creature's leg. It also caught on fire. He slammed it again on the chest. Fire was spreading quickly. He slammed it again on the face, repeatedly. Screaming, cursing, and crying. He wanted nothing left when he stopped hitting. After a minute or so of constant bashing he let up. He looked down to see the creature was entirely on fire. He could hear the fire making a crack and pop sound as the smoke rose into the air. He stepped back, pointing the bat at the blazing creature. “Exterminators one, crazy psycho Scarecrow zero.” He smiled. He transformed the flaming bat back to a Rod. He placed it on his belt, hit the beeper, and sat down watching the fire grow bigger.
Marshall was doing everything he could to fight back. However, the tentacle was squeezing tighter the harder he fought back. He could barely breathe now and could feel his back giving out at any moment. He couldn't believe he might die, not like this. He could feel his arms losing their power as he was slowly drifting out of focus.
He remembered his friends. He finally had the connection he did with Fred that he had years ago. Someone he could talk to, count on, be himself around. He finally got that back. Nick and him got along well enough, always fighting over who calls the commands and does what. It was a simple matter of butting heads but he learned to respect his new friend. Then there was Peter, the odd one out. Yet, he couldn't help but feel he could count on him in battle. As he cried out again when the tentacle got tighter he could only think that he was about to lose all of that.
Then as quickly as he was scooped up he was dropped down. He fell on his feet, feeling all the weight of gravity
hit hard. He tumbled over and the tentacle let loose. He could feel the blood in his body rushing back. His arms beginning to regain the strength he once had. His feet were beginning to work again.
Though he heard a terrible screech from the beast, he ignored it. He needed to focus on recovering before the beast struck again. He heard another terrible squishing sound. He heard the Unknown howl again in pain. Blood sprayed all over the docks in front of him. He looked to his side to see Fred standing there, in front of the beast.
“Fred?”
No response. Fred was breathing heavily, his whole body rising and falling with each breath he took. “Fred?” Marshall called out again. Fred glanced back. His face was normal. His breathing was heavy; Marshall could see it rise out of his mouth from the cold. His face a little bloody, but mostly filled with the beasts blood. Nothing stood out, except the eyes. Dark red, glowing eyes. Due to the night, they shined. Almost as if they were diamonds.
“Fred...” Marshall began but Fred already had his back to him. He launched himself at the creature.
The Unknown tried another swipe with his last remaining tentacle. Fred jumped over it with such ease it looked impossible. Once back on the ground he dove forward, struck the beast in the soft core and went as deep as possible. Blood came oozing out from where his hands struck.
“Fred... what the hell?” Marshall said in disbelief. He watched his friend move with such swiftness he couldn't believe it. It was as if he was a whole different person. A different creature even. He fought as if he was an animal. Driving his hands into the belly of the beast, as if to show the creature who the alpha male was.
Then blood sprayed all over Fred. All over the docks. It even sprayed all over Marshall who was yards away. It was raining the blood of the Unknown as it howled in agony. The last cry of pain it would ever scream.
Fred had ripped the creature into two. It was a vicious way of exterminating, one the boys had never done before. Usually putting a creature out of its misery was something the boys were accustomed to. Fred had completely and utterly tore the creature up. Marshall watched his friend stand in front of the monster as if he just won a boxing match. He stood over the dead, like he finally won the right as king of the jungle. As if it was beast versus beast instead of extermination.
“Fred...” Marshall let his voice trail off. Not sure how to contact his friend. Not sure if he wanted to at this point.
Fred turned around. His hands filled with purple blood. Yet what caught Marshall off guard were his nails. They were longer than usual, around five inches long. His eyes still shining red. The rest of the body looked like his friend, yet it didn't feel like his friend.
“I killed it.” It was Fred's voice. Yet it wasn't. It sounded like him, yet it didn't feel like him. Marshall was scared of him. Scared of his best friend that he had known for years.
“I saw,” Marshall said in a low voice. He wasn't sure how to speak to his best friend. He felt like he was talking to someone else. The eyes scared him most of all.
“I didn't know I had that in me,” Fred said. He walked towards Marshall. Marshall backed up. “Hey, you okay?”
Fred looked worried. He must have seen how scared Marshall was. “Listen, you just tore that thing in half.” Marshall rose to his feet fast. “I don't know what the hell you are but stay away!”
“What I am? I'm Fred you idiot,” Fred said half laughing. Marshall backed up some more. “Dude, what is your problem?”
“You look like a monster!” Marshall shouted.
“What? How do I look like a monster?” Fred was confused. As if he didn't see himself as one. He hadn’t notice the change in himself yet.
“Look at your freaking hands dude! You have cat-like long nails or something!”
Fred looked down. He could see his long nails. He himself jumped back. “What the heck!?”
“That's what I've been trying to tell you!” Marshall started walking forward. A moment ago he was scared of his friend, now he was scared for his friend. He could tell it was Fred now, yet Fred didn't know what he was.
“What the hell is this?” Fred studied his hands. He was scared. He’d never seen nails so long on himself. They were sharp. Deadly. He could do a ton of damage with them. Most of all though, they reminded him of the wolf. The creature that almost killed him. He fell to his knees. “What is happening to me?”
Marshall fell to one knee. “Dude, its cool. Hit the button. Get backup to clean this mess up. We'll talk to Carl about this.”
“No!”
“No? Dude you're changing into a werewolf or something.”
“No, we tell them and they'll take me away.” Fred was so scared his voice began to crack. He could feel the pressure building in him.
“This isn't a sci-fi movie man. They won't take you away.”
“Why wouldn't they!?”
“Cause you're a human. Not a monster.”
“You just said it yourself, I'm becoming one!” Marshall watched as Fred screamed in fear. He just realized how scared Fred really was.
“Calm down. We won't tell them then.” Marshall placed his hands on Fred's shoulders. “Just relax, dude.” He said soothingly. Fred looked up at him. Marshall noticed the red eyes were gone, now replaced with his normal brown ones. “There ya go. Looking better already.”
“Huh?”
Marshall noticed the fingers returning to normal as well. “Look down.”
Fred watched his hands returned to the shape he was used to. “Oh thank God!”
“See, nothing to worry about. Call for backup. Let's get this cleaned up.”
Fred rose with Marshall. “What do we tell them?” They looked at the jelly-like creature. Its body was ripped wide open. All four tentacles were slashed off. Its blood was sprayed all over the entire dock. It was a massacre-looking scene.
Marshall raised his hand. “I had the claw hands remember. We'll blame it on that. Don't worry.” Fred nodded and hit the button. Marshall would never rat out his friend. If he felt that it should be kept a secret it would be kept a secret. Yet he was scared. Not for himself but for his friend. He didn't know what to do. Now with the promise, he had no one to go to.
Nick dropped Peter off at home and made his way back to Kelly's house. It was over an hour and a half. One of the Exterminator's at the cleanup patched him up as best he could. Healing his hand and placing it on himself with a transfer seal of magic. It was dangerous but useful in situations like his own. His hand was sealed and perfectly fine. Yet the pain from the attack was still there. The drain from the Rod left him tired. He had grass and dirt all over his clothes.
He wasn't sure what to say. He wanted to speak to Kelly first before his dad. He knew his dad would be pissed. Probably even ground him forever. Yet, he was more worried about her. What would she think of him now? The second time he left her alone with no reason to back it up. The excuse of Peter in trouble was all fine but not when he was dirty himself. She wouldn't believe him no matter what lie he spun.
He thought about telling her. The secrets of the organization would be between just them two. She was trust worthy. She'd understand why he had to leave so often. Why he'd come home all banged up. Why he would need the training. It would solve all the issues they had while fighting. It would make everything so much easier.
He just couldn't. If she knew it would put her in danger. He wasn't going to allow himself to put someone he loved in danger. He fought too hard to get her; he wouldn't let her go now. He could lift so much weight off his shoulder, if he told her, but he couldn't allow himself too. This was one of the inner struggles of being a leader. Having the responsibility to protect the ones you care about. He knew he couldn't speak about the organization.
He walked up her steps. He still hadn't had a plan on what to tell her. He watched as his cold breath flew up in front of him. It was so cold out, yet he couldn't feel it. He could only feel the knot in his stomach. He didn't want to knock on the door. He wanted to run away. Think of some b
ig excuse and come back the next day. He decided to knock on the door, regardless of what the consequences were going to be.
He heard feet coming towards the door. They were soft and quiet, he knew it was her. He braced himself. He had a feeling he was about to get screamed at. She opened the door. She saw right away the dirty and ripped cloths. She saw the blood on him despite his best efforts to clean it off. She saw his face, a face full of sadness and guilt.
“Baby, I'm so so-” he began but she held her hand up.
“Come in. Let's get you cleaned up.”
She moved out of the doorway and waited. He came inside the house and looked at her. He could feel her sadness but more so the worried look on her face concerned him. “I'm sorry,” was all he could mutter. She shook her head and kissed him.
“I said its okay. Let's get you cleaned up,” she said softly.
Chapter 22 – Those Days
Carl walked down the steps to his home. He thought about the situation at hand. He was dealing with an over abundance of problems on his plate. So much, in fact, that he couldn't even find time to sit with his unit. He hadn't even done any one-on-one training with them. He felt terrible about it, especially since he was their Bora, the one to guide them with their extermination job. Instead, he focused on everyone else's problems instead of his own. He was doing the opposite of what he promised to do.
Today he felt he was going to change that. He called up Fred and told him to meet in his office. It was already February and the boys did enough training by themselves. They rose to fine warriors, handling every mission with swiftness and determination. Questions arose, but no matter what, they did as they were told.
He thought about his own problems. He stopped drinking two weeks ago. He finally let go of the addiction. Every night he felt the tug of the demons ripping at his insides. The alcohol wanted in; he wanted it inside him driving his problems into oblivion. Yet, every night he fought against it holding the addicted self at bay by reading. He let it swim around in his mind but never surface.
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