by Jeremy Flagg
“Fuck you.”
“No,” he said, “it’s not that. I just… Saving the world and all that—”
“Shove it. He’s a police officer.”
Staring out the window again, Conthan realized her beau would be one of the people on the street tonight. “You’ve changed,” he said. “I’m happy for you.”
“I overheard you speaking to Azacca.” She put a hand on his shoulder. Jasmine Gentile willingly touched him. Conthan tried to ignore the sign of the apocalypse. “This is world, this extremely fucked up world we live in, it’s not going away. It could be worse tomorrow—”
“Your pep talks are legendary, you know?”
“Stop deflecting like a spoiled brat and realize this isn’t going away. Remember the anger when Sarah died? Remember the sheer wall of hate you clung to every day? At some point that stopped being enough. You want to know who you are now? I ain’t got answers for you.” She turned Conthan to face the crowd of people standing around the Nighthawks in the middle of the flurry of military. “But those people know.”
Dwayne cast a smirk in his direction and continued brushing off one of the techs trying to apply diodes to his skin. Conthan acknowledged his smile with a chin nod. Eventually, he’d need a chance to do some soul searching, juggle the man he was with who he needed to be, but that smirk, that gave him a purpose for tonight.
I see you too, Conthan thought.
“I think we should hug,” he said aloud flatly.
“Way to ruin a moment,” Jasmine said, her hands in the air as she stormed off.
“Thanks, Jasmine,” he whispered.
* * * * *
“The taste of the gargoyle”—Dikeledi’s lips puckered as if she ate a lemon—“the taint, it lingers.”
While his companion may find the scent of the telepath less than satisfactory, to him Vanessa’s lips tasted absolutely exquisite. He reveled in her immense strength, but even more, he found himself drunk with power as he touched her raw mental abilities. Despite the hundreds of miles between Jacob and Vanessa’s bodies, their telepathy entangled.
“I can hear them,” Ivan said, basking in his own awesomeness.
“Who?” Dikeledi’s abilities swept out, rolling like a wave, in search of humans to manipulate. Ivan watched the air shimmer as his mind managed to perceive her wild empathic powers.
“All of them.”
A woman in a hospital three miles away was consumed by pain as she went into labor with her first son. A teenager on the South Side of Chicago pummeled a man in an alley, stealing his wallet. In a basement, an elderly couple held one another, fearing the military’s occupation. Ivan let his mind reach out, seeking the soldiers gathering to fight.
“Sneaky,” he said. Dikeledi’s eyebrow raised slightly. “They’ve discovered a way to hide themselves from me.”
“A problem?”
While Jacob could not hear the individual thoughts of the General’s troops, there were plenty of onlookers providing him all the information he needed. Dozens of people stood at windows hidden behind curtains, watching the military gather in the streets. Ivan restrained the temptation to force the onlookers from their homes into mobs, almost too good to ignore.
Ivan had little faith in humans. The special forces he controlled were known for subtlety, the ability to infiltrate and destroy an organization from the inside, not wage a war on foreign soil. Infiltration, a tactic he wielded like an art.
His elite guards moved with purpose, rolling out in stolen vehicles. Their street clothes allowing them to blend with the natives of Chicago as they attempted to pass through enemy lines. He found it amusing that these humans believed they could deal a significant blow from within the General’s forces. Ivan wondered how much of their confidence was manufactured by Dikeledi’s perpetual waft of power, or if they were truly committed to the American Flag.
“Fools,” he muttered to himself.
“Mr. President, sir,” a man said, “all electronic communications have been cut off. The General has no access to computer systems. No heavy weapons or the ability to communicate with his troops. Your hackers have outdone themselves.”
The lies they tell themselves, he thought. The burst of energy Ivan sent into the nearby men was similar to a bomb. A man lost his composure, his lip pulling back, revealing canines. He transformed while a wildness gathered as his eyes narrowed and brow furrowed. Ivan found it too easy, the minds of hundreds of men bending like melted plastic.
Kill them all.
“Begin advancing.”
We will slaughter them all, the man thought.
Dikeledi approached as the man bolted toward a convoy preparing to leave the parking lot of the complex. Her hand brushed along Ivan’s shoulders, a delicate sensual gesture that didn’t escape him. He assumed the witch sensed his excitement, his lust for destruction reaching a climax.
“Do you truly think you can win?” Not only did she sense his excitement, but also the small portion of his mind that worried. Decades of planning were reaching an apex and with so many moving parts, and a chess board filled with pawns, he admitted the king and queen with their knights troubled him.
“I’ve already won,” he assured her. “They just haven’t realized it.”
Pushing away from his body, he could sense the minds just outside his reach. He didn’t need to read their thoughts, but where there should be people, easy to violate, he detected vacant husks. Only one person shone, a woman standing at the window watching his forces. For decades he’d waited for the chance to see her face as he crushed her will. Her poise faded as she turned, her eyes staring into space, attempting to lock onto his ghost.
“Ariel,” he whispered.
She was as delectable as he remembered. Despite the wrinkles around her eyes and the weight of age pulling her shoulders down, she remained a spitfire. With the gargoyle’s failure to ward him off, he couldn’t help but turn his attention to the first acquisition to ever escape. High in her ivory tower, he imagined the sweet sensation of hearing her submit, calling his name, his real name.
Come get me, Ivan.
“Come get me, Ivan.” The voice had grown huskier, but it was no less inviting. Ariel didn’t let an emotion show on her perfectly chiseled face. Their eyes locked and for a moment, he wondered if she had the ability to see his mental projection. He stepped forward until their bodies overlapped, but he found himself unable to grasp her mind like a human. His thoughts rolled off, splashing against a barrier she had long perfected.
“I’m coming,” he whispered.
“Ivan.” Dikeledi’s voice snapped him back to his body. He followed her outstretched hand. High in the air, a burst of red light illuminated an area by the line of high rises closest to the park. Men and women started shouting, debating how the opposition might be using flares to communicate. Ivan didn’t care what happened to the pawns in his quest for power. He turned back to the skyscraper at the far end of the park, where he knew the king and queen awaited him.
“Dikeledi, I believe we have business elsewhere.”
“New prey?” she asked with eagerness.
“No,” he admitted. “My first prey.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
2033
Conthan shivered as exited the portal. Bright lights waited at either end of the split second of darkness. In between blinks, he stepped between Chicago and New York.
The woman sitting behind a massive desk in the modern lobby where he came out fought to keep her jaw from dropping. The lobby rose five stories and the only entrance led to a single fifty-foot-wide desk where receptionists must sit during the day directing business executives here to strike multimillion dollar deals. The black of her slicked-back hair stood out against the illuminated twenty-foot-tall “GD.”
“Hi,” he said, approaching the desk. “I was wondering if you could help me.”
The woman’s eyes darted between him and the portal, where Dwayne and Alyssa now emerged. Conthan waited a moment longer an
d made a show of raising his right hand and closing his fingers into a fist. The portal blinked out of existence. He lightly tapped the counter. “Excuse me.”
“Uhm.” She gave her head a light shake. He flashed a smile, attempting to put on his best people face. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Welcome to Genesis Division, how can I help you?” The rehearsed speech lacked any humanity. The cold-hearted receptionist needed to switch jobs.
“Well, funny story,” Conthan said. “Your boss has been taken over by a sociopathic Russian mentalist and we’re here to stop him. Any idea where we might find Mr. Griffin?”
“Mr. Griffin is not here right now.” Conthan recognized the woman’s subtle movement, her hand sliding over what he believed was a security alert. From somewhere in the building, highly trained guards would prepare to descend upon them.
“Is security going to meet us here? Or should we go to them?”
Dwayne reached over the counter and grabbed the startled woman’s forehead. His hands glowed briefly and the smell of burnt hair hit Conthan’s nostrils. The older man eyed him. “Stop playing.”
“Excuse me for attempting to charm my way inside.”
Dwayne shoved Conthan toward the metal detectors used to scan incoming personnel. “You were never that charming.”
Conthan lived most of his life in Chicago, but he had never seen the Genesis Division building up close. One of the tallest skyscrapers in the city, he’d seen it from his window, but from the inside, it seemed even grander.
The change from bright, vivid lights to an underlit red glow didn’t surprise Conthan. A hissing filled the room. He checked for vents in the floor, fearing there gas would fill the space. The woman didn’t seem to panic as the floor opened and four synthetics shot into the air. Even if a crazed employee threatened the life of a businessperson, the sight of four synthetics would deter would-be-attackers.
One of them landed on the ground. Latest model: a single red eye, durable body, twin canons on each shoulder. At least they weren’t humans. A synthetic he’d have no problem tearing apart from the inside. Small favors.
Skits. She appeared out of nowhere, her arm already shimmering as the air about her hand caught fire. As she snatched the synthetic by the back of the neck, blue flame engulfed the machine. Conthan watched as her shirt ignited, a burst of ash flying upward. Blue light seared into white. The machine’s head loosened from its body until it fell off.
As quick as she appeared, Skits vanished again. Conthan fell in line behind Dwayne, who was already pooling electricity in the palm of his hand. Lightning struck the ground, rolling toward the nearest synthetic in a wild pattern. The charge leapt from one scorched spot on the floor to the next. The machine rolled to the side, dodging the first whip of lightning. A second caught the machine in the leg, enough to hurl it backward.
“Either we get in close or we need a new plan,” Dwayne said.
“Charge ‘em both,” Conthan suggested.
“Mech!” Alyssa yelled.
Conthan turned to see the wall open between the two escalators. A twenty-foot-tall two-legged mech rose to attention. At least Jacob was indeed paranoid. If their only worry had been four synthetics, he’d have been disappointed in the evil mastermind.
Dwayne held his arms out, lightning snapping down his limbs. Conthan yanked at the well in his chest, pulling his power from inside. Portals opened a foot from each of Dwayne’s fists, catching the electricity as it was purged from his body. The seconds seemed to slow as Conthan’s mind raced about the room, seeking an exit for each of the portals. As his abilities moved freely, he saw Skits’s hand suspended in the air, blue fire starting along one fingertip.
He set the portals in place, and lightning poured into a dark void. The energy hammered one synthetic in the face, another in the torso housing the power core. The moment Conthan’s mind returned to his body, Skits turned visible, releasing Gretchen, her arm ablaze, slamming into the skull of the remaining synthetic. Sparks jumped from the machine’s head as her fingers sliced through the metal, pushing out the front of its face.
“Booyah,” he heard her scream.
Alyssa ran toward Skits, the massive mech following her sprint. The gun housed under its egg-shaped torso spun to life. Sparks spat up from the ground, tracer rounds ricocheting off the floor. Alyssa jumped, then somersaulting as she hit the ground, bullets nearly catching her in the legs. The girl skid to a stop and blinked out of existence. A moment later Skits did the same. Gretchen’s passive invisibility already proved to be a valuable fighting tactic.
“They’re safe,” Conthan said. “Now it’s your turn.”
The tank top clinging to Dwayne’s large frame was torn from his body, becoming bits of blackened fabric hit the ground. Jolts of electricity danced along his flesh, weaving in and out of him like bright white waves.
“It’s always my turn,” he said.
* * * * *
Dwayne hoped Conthan appreciated his attempt at witty fighting dialogue. The younger man constantly yelled at him for missing opportunities for punchy lines. Where his boyfriend lived for sharp retorts, Dwayne preferred power over words.
The machine’s inverted legs stepped forward, seeking a new threat. Dwayne wondered if Dav5d drove the machine or if it acted independently. Would his former teammate sense the beating about to go down? Would he be able to prevent it?
Flaps on the side of the egg-shaped body were flung open and box-like weapons rotated outward. Dwayne recognized the circular tubes prepping missiles. More than enough firepower to level everything in the room. Dav5d wouldn’t risk something they could out maneuver. If he was in charge, they’d house something like napalm, a fire that would follow into a portal if Conthan attempted to teleport away.
It might be hard to strike the smaller synthetics who could dodge the lightning. A machine this size was impossible to miss. The pressure in his chest built until holding it back hurt. With a simple tense of his muscles, the lightning gathered in his chest and forced itself forward, hurtling toward the machine.
The lightning steered right, slamming into a circular object lifting out of the ground. Dwayne growled. Several similar objects rose throughout the room. He recognized the handiwork of his former teammate.
“Lightning rods,” he shouted. “I can’t hit it.”
The missiles launched. The missiles vanished. Black portals hung in the air, swallowing the projectiles. A burst of light flooded the room. A boom outside shook the windows, leaving spiderweb cracks in the glass. The building outside melted as waves of fire poured downward, liquefying through the brick and mortar.
Blue light shimmered near the mech. Skits appeared, hurling her body against its leg.
“Gretchen,” Conthan yelled, “get up the escalators. The objective!”
Skits’s body turned from blue to white as she screamed. The fire started to move through the machine’s leg. A black mesh fell from the beast onto Skits, binding her legs until she fell. Before she managed to burn through the wire, Dwayne sensed the current. His sister screamed from the electrocution.
The electricity in his body wanted release. He fought to keep it from pouring out. Once upon a time, Vanessa stole his body, possessing him for the greater good. She had violated him on a level he never thought possible. She mastered his powers in seconds, using them in a way he had never attempted. He attempted it now.
The skin along his shoulders and down his biceps burned as the electricity attempted to find a spot, any spot, to exit. Dwayne held it back, growling as it fought with him. The air smelled of crisp ozone as his entire body became a conduit. At any moment, he’d fall, swallowed by his powers, and the electricity would radiate out to the floor as he lost consciousness.
Missiles filled the vacant tubes as the mech prepared another volley. Dav5d wouldn’t let them go through the portals this time. He’d prematurely fire them, blowing them up so the napalm inside rushed through the room and burned them all. It’s what he would do if he wanted to d
estroy everything in his wake. Ivan, the madman, wanted to destroy everything he couldn’t master.
“No!” Dwayne cried out.
The scream drowned out his sister. The missiles fired, leaving the safety of their housing, rushing toward him and Conthan. Unlike before, Dwayne relaxed his muscles and let his powers pour out of him. Where he was used to seeing the destructive waves of chain lightning, this time he flinched as a blinding light erupted from his body.
He turned his head and prepared for the onslaught of napalm. Giant metal objects crashed about him. He found himself knocked to the floor with Conthan, who wrapped his arms around Dwayne's chest. The fire never reached them. Conthan saved them both. He'd never let Dwayne live this down while they drank beers celebrating.
Skits.
Dwayne pulled free of Conthan and clawed his way to his knees to see the mech resting still. The red lights had faded and only the fires burning outside the skyscraper illuminated the interior. Other than the rocking missiles crashing against the glass wall, there was no movement.
“Holy shit,” he said.
“It’s lights out for you,” Conthan said. “Man, you need to work on your dialogue.”
“Holy shit,” Dwayne muttered again.
Vanessa, he thought, we’re coming.
* * * * *
Conthan shouldered into Dwayne, grabbing him around the chest as he fell toward the floor. Before they came to rest, Dwayne started pushing to his feet, fighting to climb out from under Conthan.
The lobby grew silent.
Conthan looked up from the floor and the room darkened. Red emergency lights overhead had shut off and the massive mech rested in between the escalators. The missiles hadn’t exploded, bullets hadn’t pierced flesh, nothing had happened. Being a Child wasn’t about being powerful, it was knowing when to unleash power with reckless abandon and when to hold back. Apparently, Dwayne had learned how to do both.