by Greg Ness
Without missing a step, Bruce approached the clear revolving door in the middle of the glass wall. And hurled a brick through it. The revolving door shattered to pieces and the brick skidded through the lobby. As expected, no alarm sounded. Instead, the security guard, a muscularly bulging man in uniform, took off from his desk. Bruce calmly, without breaking stride, walked through the entrance he created for himself.
As the guard approached, Bruce dropped to his knees and put his hands behind his head. In the corners of the ceiling, Bruce could see the cameras fixated on him. This was it. He was officially in. There was no turning back now. Complete the mission, and the tapes would be destroyed and nary a peep would be uttered about his breakin.
The guard slammed Bruce’s face toward the ground, giving him a close-up view of the marble floor. As the guard unclipped a pair of handcuffs from his belt, a small amount of steam spit its way out of Bruce’s sweater. Bruce took a deep breath.
“What is that?” the guard asked, demanding to know what was fogging the air.
Bruce didn’t answer. He was too busy holding his breath. The guard fumbled with the handcuffs, placing one of the cuffs on Bruce’s left wrist. His hand was shaking. It was too much. He managed to clip it closed. But after that, the guard flopped to the floor next to Bruce.
Bruce leapt to his feet. Before leaving, he took the guard’s weapon-a stun gun-from his holster. He walked toward the elevator, leaving the guard on the floor. Bruce pushed the elevator button. DING! An elevator door opened.
“Stop right there! Put your hands up!” Out of the corner of his eye, Bruce saw another security guard. This guard was pointing a stun gun at him. Bruce remained standing forward and didn’t move.
“Did you hear what I said? Put your hands up! Now!!”
Without looking, Bruce flicked his wrist and fired his stun gun. The security guard convulsed and fell to the floor. Bull’s eye. Bruce nonchalantly tossed the stun gun aside and boarded the elevator. As the doors closed, he held down button number 3. The elevator started to rise. While holding the number 3 button, he pushed the buttons in sequence: 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21. The elevator halted and jerked Bruce around. It started to descend. Perfect. He did it.
Bruce was impressed with his relative level of ease in breaking into the Russell Corporation tower. Now came the hard part.
The elevator doors opened. Bruce stepped out, only to find himself in some sort of storage basement. Boxes were littered everywhere and the only light shed on the scene was from a lone light bulb in the middle of the ceiling. Bruce squinted, looking past the boxes for his next stop. He wandered around, flinging boxes aside.
Where to?
In a space only seven steps long, the boxes were endless. They were stacked on top of each other and sprawled on the floor. Bruce tossed them around. Box after box flung from his hand as he tore through the room. This obstacle was unexpected. Bruce stopped to examine the space. He must’ve missed something. But then he noticed something out of place: a tall box that reached the ceiling. All of the boxes had spread out and dissipated with the exception of that one box. As Bruce neared it, he noticed it wasn’t a box at all. He knocked on it and it rang out a metallic sound. How clever. Hide a box-looking device in a room full of actual boxes. Bruce circled the metallic box until he found a crack in the metal. A door. Bruce propped it open. Inside was a platform with a lever protruding out of the gated floor.
Bruce stepped inside, pulled the door closed, and yanked on the lever. The floor shook and descended. The metal gate Bruce stood on was the only part of the ‘elevator’ that lowered. Bruce looked up, observing the tunnel stretch as he traveled further and further downwards. Minutes went by. He looked at the cuffs unfortunately attached to his left wrist. Getting that off was going to be a project. The platform abruptly stopped. In front of him, a singular door slid open.
Bruce listened. Silence. He popped his head out. No one. The room he had been delivered to was closet-sized. At the end of it was a metal door with a circular handle. Bruce gripped the handle with both of his hands and, as quietly as he could, spun it around. Click. He pulled the door open as it creaked ever so softly.
Bruce looked out. There was a long circular corridor that looked like a cramped sewer tunnel. The corridor was desolate, with sparsely few light bulbs providing glimpses of light. Bruce stepped out and strolled down. He could faintly hear the haunting sound of chanting voices. Against the walls was the flickering of a flashing fire. Straight ahead, at the end of the corridor, was an opening where the fire was presumably coming from. It was some kind of large room.
When Bruce reached the open room, he spotted the cult in the distance. In all, he counted 13 blue-robed figures standing around a controlled, small circular fire. The scene was exactly as he remembered in high school. Only now they had upgraded to a much grander underground base.
Bruce emerged from the corridor and marched toward the cult. Though he didn’t have a blue hood to cover his head, the hood of his sweater produced the same effect. He yelled a Latin phrase over the chanting, “Adveniat regnum tuum!” The members of the cult stopped and looked at the intruder. Bruce continued to shout. “Fiat voluntas tua, sicut in caelo et in terra!” The cult grumbled amongst themselves.
X removed his hood. He was baffled. This intruder knew their credo.
A member of the cult approached Bruce. “How did you get here?”
Bruce grabbed the man’s hood and threw it backward, revealing his face. The man in front of him was Chad Kane, his boss, the principal, and Vince’s brother. Bruce was seldom surprised, but this had him floored. Chad?
Bruce’s plan was ruined. He couldn’t kill Chad.
Instead he gave him a gift he knew would cause trouble. A punch right in the jaw. Bruce followed through for all the problems Chad had caused him before. The echo of the impact reached the other cult members, who rushed to his aid. As Chad stumbled backwards, Bruce shoved him to the ground before the other members could reach him.
A pair of hands grabbed Bruce’s shoulders in an attempt to take him down. Bruce whipped his head backwards and crashed into the face of the assailant. Bruce flung around and clobbered him. The hood flew off the man’s face as he staggered away.
Bruce felt a pounding on the back of his head. Someone used their fist as a cannonball. But it wasn’t enough. Bruce blindly turned and kicked his foot to tangle the balance of another blue-robed figure and knocked him to the ground. He turned and connected his fist to the stomach of another. He whipped around, swinging and kicking at whoever wanted to get close enough to him.
Bruce discovered, rather fortunately, the benefits of having handcuffs locked to one wrist. He whizzed the cuffs around, striking the faces of the cult members.
X watched Bruce attack his 12 disciples with ease. It was beautiful. Like ballet, his use of the handcuffs was a masterstroke that was fluently followed by strikes with his free fist. But it could only last so long.
Bruce was surrounded.
A fist finally evaded the impaling handcuff and connected to Bruce’s eye, knocking his head backward. As he was hit, he stumbled only slightly. But it was enough for another cult member to tackle him to the ground. Bruce landed on his back with a thud. His hands and feet were immediately grabbed and restrained by several cult members. Bruce flailed and struggled but there was no point.
He lost his chance. He failed.
The cult members who held him down lifted him up and allowed him to kneel.
That’s when Bruce saw the person he came to see: X.
His long, black curly hair flowed down freely to his shoulders. When Bruce laid eyes on X’s face, he couldn’t believe who he saw. The identity of X was a total surprise.
Stephen Pandora and Lisa Binsby were at a nice restaurant celebrating their one-year anniversary. They were seniors in college on the cusp of graduation. All had been going well at dinner. But something was unmistakably wrong.
Lisa pursed her lips. “I know you’re against lea
ving Michigan when we graduate, but I think I’m going to go to Los Angeles for a little while.” She continued to talk, but Stephen wasn’t paying attention anymore. It was shocking; his heart folded. They had dated for a year and she never mentioned moving to Los Angeles. Ever. At least not that he could remember. He wondered why she would wait until a month before graduation to tell him. His heart bounced around. There were too many questions to ask.
“What? I don’t understand,” was all Stephen could muster up.
Lisa furiously fought tears as she looked down. She couldn’t bear the sight of Stephen’s broken heart. “I should’ve told you sooner,” she mumbled to her lap.
Stephen forced a fake smile. “Lisa.”
She brought her eyes to his. He nodded and reassured, “It’s okay.”
Lisa put her head in her hands and sobbed. It wasn’t okay.
The rest of dinner didn’t exactly pick up. It was somber, quiet, like a funeral. Stephen and Lisa fought a whirlwind of emotions as they attempted to ignore the inflated elephant in the room.
Dinner was over. It was time to leave. As they made their way out of the restaurant, they clenched hands. Things were different now; they might never be the same. And the worst part was they both knew it.
Lisa was overwhelmed. “Stephen, I need to use the bathroom before we leave.”
“I’ll wait out here for you.”
Lisa went into the bathroom. Stephen stood alone. The restaurant was sparsely lit but Stephen felt the heat of a spotlight shining on him. He was naked. All alone for the world to see.
Stephen glanced around for a spot to sit. There was no telling how long Lisa would be. Behind him was a leather couch with someone sitting on the right half. Stephen approached the couch. He was going to sit next to the stranger whether he liked it or not. The stranger was a man his age, maybe a year or two older, with dark, short hair. Somehow, oddly, he looked familiar. Stephen had seen him somewhere before, but he couldn’t place it. Stephen flopped himself onto the leather. The stranger asked, “Your girl had to use the bathroom too, huh?”
“Yeah,” Stephen replied.
“We could be waiting a while.”
Stephen forced a laugh. He was too distraught to joke around. The stranger sensed something was wrong. “You okay buddy?”
“Yeah… everything’s fine.”
The stranger wrapped an arm around Stephen’s shoulder. “Come on, you can tell me. Listen…” he leaned in to Stephen, “I just asked my girlfriend to marry me. You know what she said?”
Stephen glanced at him. He didn’t care. “What did she say?”
“She said she didn’t know. That she had a lot on her mind. Then she started crying and needed to use the bathroom. So whatever is happening to you… it’s probably not as bad as what’s happening to me.” The stranger chuckled, “Who knows, they’re probably having a great time in there right now.”
Stephen relented. “She told me she’s moving to Los Angeles.”
The stranger shook his head. “Is that what you’re upset about?”
Stephen shrugged.
The stranger chuckled. “Do you love her?”
Stephen nodded. Of course he did. “Yeah.”
“Then go with her... Take her to a special place. Tell her you love her. Ask her to marry you…
“…And go with her.”
The stranger’s solution was so simple. Why hadn’t he thought of it? Of course he would do that. There was nothing in Michigan for him anyway. He would go with her to Los Angeles. Simple. The grief inside of Stephen dissipated. He felt relieved. Stephen turned to the friendly stranger with a smile. “Thanks.”
“No problem, hope things work out.” The stranger squinted his eyes and tilted his head at Stephen. He had the look of a man in deep thought. “Do I know you from somewhere?” he asked.
“I was going to ask you the same thing,” Stephen replied. “My name’s Stephen. Stephen Pandora.”
The stranger laughed. “That’s how! We went to grade school together. Actually, I should apologize. I was probably a pain in the ass to you for quite a while.” The stranger held out his hand. Just then, Stephen remembered the face he couldn’t place. The stranger was someone he had seen many times before. He tried to beat him up in grade school and fought Bruce in high school. Funny… this stranger had always been trouble for Stephen and Bruce.
Guess he was a changed man, Stephen surmised.
The stranger said the already apparent, “My name’s Ronnie…
“…Ronnie Russell.”
He was the one who Bruce fought in first grade. The one he battled in high school. The one he faced off with at the football game. X was Bruce’s old nemesis, Ronnie Russell.
X lit up, “Bruce, my old friend!”
Bruce, on his knees, tried to catch his breath.
“Let him up! Let him up!” X shouted at his disciples. Instantly, they dispatched, freeing Bruce. He brushed himself off and stood up.
Bruce and X faced each other and gazed into each other’s eyes.
Bruce declared, “God sent me.”
X laughed with delight. “Is that right?”
Bruce stared at him. His appearance had changed over the years. At one time, he was juiced on steroids. At another time, he was a scrawny little rat. Now, he had a darker presence about him.
Ronnie was a man who had slipped into an abyss of darkness and continued to fall for years. He was a psychopath who believed he was on the side of good. And that made him dangerous. As Bruce looked into his eyes, it was hard to tell what was going on inside of him. His eyes were dark; the light had gone out. It felt like staring into the eyes of a stone statue. The only thing Bruce knew for sure was they had never cared for each other.
X continued, “And what is it God sent you to do?”
“To be your disciple.”
X pondered. He looked at the other disciples, whose hoods were all off, attempting to read their faces. Relenting, he turned his back and stared at the still burning fire. “I imagine you broke in through the lobby, yes?”
Bruce reluctantly replied, “Yes.”
“I will have to replace a glass window?”
“The revolving door.”
X’s frustration surprised Bruce. He was more upset about the revolving door than he was about him breaking in. “And based on the cuffs on your hand, I assume you took out the guards?”
Bruce responded, “They’re only immobilized.”
X turned from the fire. To Bruce, X was a dark silhouette against the backdrop of the circular fire. It was a sight the made him look more menacing than he was. X mumbled, “We’ll have to show you the other entrance.”
One of his disciples, John, an old-timer, spoke up, “You can’t be serious.” John crept toward Bruce and rested his face uncomfortably close to Bruce’s, staring deep into his eyes. Bruce could see a fresh bleeding bruise on his forehead. Must’ve nailed him with the handcuffs.
John was right in his face. This was his chance. Bruce imagined the location of the knife in his coat. He couldn’t kill Chad but he could easily kill this babula.
John unintelligibly uttered, “I could take you down all myself.”
Before Bruce could snatch his knife, X yanked John by the shoulders. He pulled him back and, without pause, struck him in the face with his fist. John staggered and put his hands to his throbbing face.
“Stupid old man,” X uttered to himself.
X approached Bruce as warmly as his dark appearance would allow. He held out his hand. “God’s will be done.”
That’s it? It was as simple as that?
Bruce shook his hand. Their most unlikely partnership was solidified.
X said, “In the past, I have been a pain in the ass to you. I’m a changed man. Since grade school, I was in love with a girl: Sara Ixley. Granted, it was a simple crush. But I loved her. In high school, I heard from some friends that you drove her to a suicide attempt. I went berserk. I was going to kill you at that dance. But y
ou stopped me. And I’m glad you did. We started dating while she was in college…”
Bruce’s mind wandered. What!? Sara dated Ronnie? He was the guy she fell into a faux relationship with while they were having their secret affair? Bruce maintained his composure. There was no way to know if Ronnie knew about his and Sara’s relationship. If he didn’t know, it would be best to keep it that way.
“…And then she supposedly killed herself. But I don’t buy it. She told me she wouldn’t ever try it again… But I digress. My point is that despite all the fights you and I have had, I’m different now.
“And it is a true gift from God to have you become one of my disciples.”
X smiled at Bruce.
Wow. Talk about unexpected.
X approached one of the disciples who had been watching with great interest. He was an old man, even older than John, and had a sweet, innocent look to him. X said, “James, we no longer need you. Go home to your wife.” X put an arm around his shoulder, a true attempt to comfort him.
James nodded and slipped away from X. Bruce had no idea where he was heading. Just… away. Bruce was satisfied that he didn’t have to kill anyone. He was under the impression it would be a prerequisite of joining the cult-to replace an existing member. Bruce watched James walk away. He had likely been a member of the cult on the day Stephen and Bruce scared them in the forest.
Suddenly, a knife ripped through the air and catapulted into James’ back. It struck him with such force, he propelled several feet forward as he fell to the metal floor. Bruce was startled and jumped in surprise. Wide-eyed, he looked at X to see him glaring at James with pride.
“Good shot, huh?”
32
Today was the day: the day Bruce and Mikey would finally take down X.
Bruce and Mikey, adorned in their blue robes, concealed their faces with their hoods and stood against the wall on the outer rim of the circular dome-room. The other 10 disciples spread themselves out. When X gave his signal, the 12 of them would emerge from the shadows, surround the outsider, and inflict terror into his heart. It wasn’t often an outsider was brought in. But today’s outsider, brought in by Bruce to help destroy the cult, was someone truly special. He stood in front of X with a hood covering his head.