by Nat Kozinn
“Where’s The Beast Slayer?!” a police officer yells, still inside the cemetery and woefully behind in the race.
The question reminds Ben that he needs to take to the roofs while he follows Gavin. The boy will be wary of a police pursuit, and Ben looks like a potential pursuer in his police uniform disguise. He has to stay out of sight. He charges to the closest building, pulls out a length of ForteSilk with a hook, and tosses it to the roof where hook catches on the ledge. Using metal spikes on his shoes, and arms that probably need to lift more weights, Ben climbs up to the top of the building, looking like a kid struggling to hustle up the rope in gym class.
From his high vantage point, he can see Gavin slow from a sprint to a brisk walk, emphasis on the brisk. Ben has to spring from rooftop to rooftop to keep up with the boy. Fortunately for Ben, this is an upscale neighborhood where all the buildings were constructed from the same blueprints, so the roofs are relatively even in height as opposed to the architectural hodge-podge of new and old construction that makes up the rest of the Metro Area. Ben is slowed by a twelve-foot gap between streets, but with his grappling hook, spiked boots, and stimulated muscles, he manages to make it across while avoiding a fall down to the street and breaking a good number of bones.
Ben is pushing his body well past its limits in order to keep up with Gavin and remain unseen. Even with the stimulant, Ben can’t exert himself for much longer. Mercifully, it only takes a few minutes for Gavin to reach his goal, a Walter mindlessly sweeping up bits of trash from the street.
As Ben suggested, Gavin taunts and humiliates the poor creature, all so Nita will take notice and make contact. Gavin performs a series of acts that debase himself more than the mindless creature, before finally, in one final depraved act; he de-pants the Walter and puts the garment onto the clone’s head.
Gavin stands still and silent for a moment. Presumably, Nita has made contact. Gavin breaks into a jog, headed north. Ben takes several deep breaths then resumes his roof-bound pursuit. Much to his chagrin, Gavin turns into Grand Park, and Ben has no choice but to repel down from his rooftop perch using his ForteSilk rope.
He follows Gavin into the verdant space, trying his best to keep a safe distance while keeping pace with the speeding young man. Ben’s nose is infected with the offensive odors of plant life. He can feel the living molecules invading his body through his lungs. Ben has never understood the appeal of being in nature. Why would someone want to surround themselves with such foreign and potentially dangerous organisms? The saving grace is that the foliage provides cover to keep Ben hidden from Gavin’s frequent over-the-shoulder glances.
The greenery keeps Ben out of Gavin’s view, but it does not stop a heavy-set police officer from breaking into stride right alongside him. It takes Ben a few seconds to realize the cop isn’t chasing him. The officer is trying to assist Ben, whose blue uniform gives him the appearance of a fellow officer in pursuit of suspect.
“You need backup, buddy?” the heavyset officer says between huffs and puffs.
“Umm, no, I’m good. Just getting in some exercise,” Ben stammers.
“You’re chasing The Beast Slayer, aren’t you? They said he might be heading this way. You didn’t call it in yet? You trying to steal all the glory?”
“I’m not sure it’s him.”
“So what? Call it in, or I’m going to,” the cops says.
Ben has to make a decision. He wants to follow Gavin, it might be the only way to stop Nita. All Ben’s detective work may have exposed some of her plans, but even if he could prove it all, political corruption isn’t enough ammunition to take her and Ultracorps down, Gavin even said so himself. Now, if Ben could prove that Ultracorps lied about The Beast to everyone, including the government and that Nita is keeping that serial killer alive for her own ends, that would provide the catalysts needed to force change. The public outrage would be too large; there would have to be a response. Nita would be fired for sure and probably put on trial, even if it was just juvenile court. If Ben can keep following Gavin, the boy will lead Ben right to The Beast.
The problem is that if Gavin is arrested, he’s not going to be leading anyone anywhere. Nita will batten down the hatches, and Ben may never find where The Beast is being held. He who fights and runs away lives to fight another day, and Ben would like more days. He sprints ahead of the officer and watches Gavin take a sharp right turn heading east across the park. Ben breaks off the pursuit and addresses the heavy-set officer bringing up the rear.
“I can’t keep going,” Ben says, which is partially true. “Go ahead and call it in. He’s moving west across the park,” he adds, lying through his teeth.
The officer disappears into the think.Net stare, and Ben takes the opportunity to disappear into the park.
#
>>>Where are you Gavin?
<<
>>>You got away, the cops didn’t catch you?
<<
>>>Good, that was a close one. I was worried for a minute. So where is this facility?
<<
>>>I wanted to know where you were going. If something went wrong, I figured you could use the backup.
<<
>>>Is that so bad? You said yourself that exposing some bribes won’t exactly shock the world, it’s small potatoes. Now secretly keeping a serial killer alive? That’s a blue-ribbon Yukon Gold potato right there.
<<
>>>But what if The Beast doesn’t survive the procedure or they kill him afterwards? A dead body won’t have the same effect on the public psyche. We have to shove it in Nita’s face now, while she least expects it.
>>>This was your plan all along, wasn’t it? You don’t care about me living up to my potential, or getting powerful enough to stop Billy the Kid, or all that crap about how I was a true hero. I’m bait to get the fish you’re after: the little girl who stole your job.
<<
>>>Stopping whatever Nita has planned does sound super important, or it might be, if we knew what the “it” was. You’re obsessed with Nita, Ben. I recommend you do some soul searching on that fact while I’m living up to my potential. Thanks for helping me even if you didn’t really mean to. Goodbye.
The call ends and Ben shakes his head. He wonders why nothing can ever be easy. Looks like he’s got some more sleuthing to do. He’s not going to let Gavin stand in the way of taking Nita down.
26
Of course we need more human industry. Just like we need to call our grandmothers more, eat more vegetables, and be kinder to our fellow man, but this vitriol directed at Ultracorps comes off as the complaints of petulant children. This company entertains us, shelters us, feeds us and has done so since the Plagues, often at its own expense. Accidents happen, just like mom burned dinner on occasion, but accidents don’t negate all the things she or Ultracorps did for you.
“It’s Supposed to be the Home of the Brave” by Forest Brown, think.Net News LA
The Beast is strapped to an operating table. Maceo Steel bands hold him to the Maceo Steel table top. ForteSilk Strands are wrapped around his neck like a chain, the last line of defense in case he somehow breaks the unbreakable Maceo Steel bonds. I could understand the facility workers’ fear if The Beast looked like he once did. The Beast th
at terrorized the Los Angeles Metro Area was a creature straight out of a child’s nightmare, a giant pile of muscle covered in hair and leathery skin and armed with claws and teeth that screamed death.
But now he looks like a dog you might rescue from the pound. His body is frail and weak, at least by comparison. His hair has fallen out in patches and his leathery skin is peeling off in sheets. He no longer has canines or claws; they were either removed or fell out due to the same reason the rest of him looks so emaciated. His left arm looks like it was broken and shot a while ago, it’s completely mangled. Despite his pathetic look, I still have to stifle my mind’s natural progression to anger. If I let my emotions flow freely, I’d run over to the table and try to strangle the life out of him. His neck might actually be skinny enough for me to do that now. The rational part of me knows that I can’t kill him, yet. I need to take his strength first. I need to be as powerful as The Beast to defeat my enemies. He’s a force of nature, even if he doesn’t look like one right now.
Larry seems to read my thoughts.
“They keep him pretty well sedated on Tranq at all times. It’s hard to blame them; there were some… complications a couple months ago so they decided sedating him was the safest thing to do. That much Tranq has some major effects on his metabolism, which explains why he’s looking so skinny and disheveled. It doesn’t matter though. You’re after his genetics, not his actual body. You might have to regrow some muscle on your new hand, but that’ll be a drop in the bucket,” Larry explains.
“Is there some way to wake him up?”
“He’s awake, or as awake as he gets at least. You just need to get his attention.”
I clap my hands and yell, “Thomas Calhoun!”
Using his real name worked. The Beast’s glazed-over eyes shift into focus, or something like it anyway. He can’t lift his neck enough to look at me squarely, but I can see his eyes move to me.
“Gavin, ‘zat you? Great to see ya. I was worried you might have died after our little tiff on the roof. I’m glad I can’t count killing you in my list of sins,” The Beast says, sounding as demented as ever.
“You’ve still got plenty of sins left on that list, don’t sleep too soundly.”
“The Lord is givin’ me a chance to atone,” The Beast says with a grin.
“You don’t deserve atonement. You’re a monster. I came here to tell you that not only did I beat you, I’m going to take your strength. I’m going to take every ‘blessing’ God bestowed on you and make it my own.”
“I knew it was you. When the Lord told me I’d get one more chance to help one of my brothers by giving him my power, I knew He was talking about you. I knew we was kindred spirits, Gavin. Remember when I told you? Now, I get to prove it to you, and I get to be redeemed.”
“Redeemed? Don’t you get what’s going to happen? They are going to cut your hand from your body and attach it to me. I’m going to use the stem cells I harvest from your hand to make myself as powerful as you are. I promise you that whatever I do with that power, Cabot would not approve.”
“The God’s own son had to endure much worse than getting his hand cut off. I’m happy doing my part to serve the Lord. As for you, everybody’s gotta walk their own path. You’ll find your way out the darkness, eventually,” The Beast says. The excitement of our conversation is bringing him back to consciousness.
“No, I won’t. Don’t you remember trying to convert me? I would have rather died, and that’s still true.”
“You think that now Gavin, but one day that’ll change. The Lord’s light shines down upon you. How else do you think you beat me, a servant of God, using them puny muscles you got now? The Lord ain’t going to let you die until you serve His purpose. That’s why He kept me alive when I fell from that tower. It was so I could help you. We’re all a part of God’s plan, Gavin.”
“You’re a fool. You were never talking to God. You were talking to a thirteen-year-old girl who runs think.Net. She used your ignorance and desperation to play you like a fiddle. She sent you to that Tower to kill one of her enemies, and when I beat you, she’s the one who saved your life. She only did that because she had more uses for you, including mangling your body to make me stronger. Nothing you did was part of God’s plan. It was all the schemes of a megalomaniacal child.” I’m getting a little carried away, trying too hard to twist the knife.
“God works through many vessels,” The Beast says without even skipping a beat. He’s not giving me my satisfaction.
I rack my brain to come up with a response, but then I remember what Ben told me. One of my flaws is thinking that everyone sees the world the same way I do. The Beast is a lunatic. I’m not going to convince him of the error of his ways through logic and reason. Nothing can change his mind.
All I can do is push the disturbing things The Beast said out of my head and focus on the task at hand. Arguing with a religious fundamentalist is not what I am here to do. Twisting the knife into The Beast’s side is not what I am here to do. I am here to become powerful enough to stop William Jefferson and Governor Khan. As a bonus, maybe The Beast will die from the procedure. If not, I will find him and finish the job.
#
I ignore the sounds being sent to my brain from my ears. I can’t stomach the thought of hearing my own bone get severed with a saw. It takes less than thirty seconds for the doctor to lop off my right hand, just above the wrist. In that time, the nerve signals in my hand transition from screaming bloody murder to saying nothing at all. It is a truly bizarre experience. Almost like I lost someone important to me. The nerve signals in my right hand were part of the cacophony of information that rang constantly in my head. A percentage of that “noise” is now gone. As a replacement, all of the nerves around my severed hand are sounding alerts like crazy. Telling me, in case I didn’t know, that my right hand was chopped off.
It took the doctor longer to get through The Beast’s skin and bones because his tissue is tougher than my tissue. They sedated him so heavily he wasn’t even conscious. I’m a little ashamed to admit how disappointed I was about that. I was hoping he would have to endure the agony. He can’t ignore pain signals like I can.
The Speedster doctor moves like a blur over to the bucket of ice where The Beast’s hand is being kept, ready to be attached. At first I was worried about the fact that she didn’t have any nurses or assistants to help with the procedure, but watching her in action is a sight to behold. She could replace a whole emergency room on her own. Three of her could staff an entire hospital. I wonder how many Speedsters are smart enough to pass medical school. I guess we’ll never know; Differents aren’t allowed to work for anyone but Ultracorps, and Ultracorps hasn’t gotten into the hospital business yet.
The doctor goes to work on The Beast’s hand, separating the various tendons, nerves, arteries, and veins that will need to be attached my corresponding tissue. She works at hyper speed, which is good because it would a take normal human way too long to do that same thing; the cells in the hand would start dying. The doctor finishes with The Beast’s hand and repeats the process on my arm, identifying the various areas that need to be reconnected.
“Here goes nothing,” she says. Those are the fourth, fifth, and six words she’s spoken to me.
She begins attaching The Beast’s hand to me. She matches up the center of the palm to my forearm then uses a fancy-looking screwdriver to drill screws into my bone. Those screws are attached to a stainless steel plate, which is in turn screwed into The Beast’s hand, holding it in place. She puts in a second and third plate to stabilize the attachment. It’s necessary: The Beast’s bones are much thicker than mine, and the hand is barely attached. The plate will only be necessary until I can grow new, thicker bone tissue.
After the bone is in place, she pulls out a microscope from under the table and works on attaching the other tissue. She sews in tiny sutures to attach the various tendons to one another, then the veins and arteries, and finally the nerves. The whole procedure i
s finished in less than six minutes. I have to imagine that it would take the best human surgeon in the world somewhere around eight hours.
She puts some final stitches into the skin connecting the new me to the old me, wipes some sweat from her brow, and speaks to me through her medical mask.
“I hope you really are capable of all those crazy things Nita seems to think you can do. If not, this is going to get ugly. It’s a mess in there. All of The Beast’s tissues are much larger and thicker than your corresponding tissue. I felt like I was attaching an adult hand to a five-year old. We’ve got a Cooler, I’m going to keep your old hand on ice in case this whole thing goes south. There’s a chance we could reattach it, but the longer you wait, the less likely it will work. I hope you can figure out how to make this all function in short order. Good luck,” the doctor says. If I survive this, I’m going to be sure to tell Nita that this doctor needs some training on the psychological aspects of practicing medicine. She chopped my hand off and never told me her name.
The doctor checks my massive I.V. bag to make sure it is flowing into my arm. Then she wheels the table with The Beast out of the room. I hear her head into another room down the hall. I want to wonder about if they’re trying to save him, and if so, what for, but I have more pressing matters to attend to.
I increase my heart rate back to normal. I had it as low as possible so I didn’t bleed out on the table, but if I want my new hand to survive, the cells are going to need blood. The problem is that my new arteries are much bigger than the old ones. I feel blood spilling out from the poor connections like water pipes that haven’t been properly fit together. Still, some blood is making it into my new tissue. I’m just going to have to keep making new blood to replace what I’m losing.