Morbius

by Brendan Deneen

  Perhaps it was the silence. Where was the roar of the crowd? Had he been moved into a different facility? He had been blindfolded as soon as he stepped out of his cell, and they had walked for a long time.

  Morbius didn’t want to fight.

  But he would, and he would win, no matter what it took. There was simply too much at stake. He would do whatever was necessary to find Amanda, and then Martine.

  Finally, the door opened, bright light streaming in. He couldn’t see past the glare, so he took a deep breath and entered into its brilliance.

  Into the arena.

  After the stone floor of his cell and the long hallway, the sand felt soft beneath his feet. He walked to the center, reaching it and turning in a circle. There it was… the murmur of the crowd. He was shocked that so many people had been able to stay so quiet.

  “I’m going to kill every single one of you!” he bellowed.

  The murmurs grew silent, and then laughter burst forth, loud and raucous. Morbius ground his back teeth together. He had never wanted to inflict violence as badly as he did right now. He was about to shout at the faceless masses again—pointlessly, he realized—when the large door at the other end of the arena began to open.

  Morbius took a couple of steps back. Took a deep breath. He was ready for this. More than ready, even if he had no wish to hurt an innocent creature for the pleasure of the wealthy bastards who sat in the shadows, wagering on the outcome.

  An immense creature came bursting out, at least fifteen feet tall, covered in long, thick fur, sprinting forward on two muscular hind legs, large claws glinting in the light, fangs bared beneath a long snout. Morbius inadvertently took in a breath. This was one of the most savage-looking beasts he had ever seen.

  He braced himself. The crowd screamed in anticipation.

  The monster crashed into Morbius with the impact of a freight train. He felt the breath rush from his lungs as he fell backward, attempting to free himself from the creature’s sinewy arms. Its teeth snapped at his face, but he managed to push the large hairy body off him and roll away.

  The two monsters regained their feet and circled each other, breathing heavily.

  Morbius leapt into the air, hoping to surprise his adversary, but the creature was incredibly fast, grabbing him by the ankle and slamming him down onto the ground. Pain filling every inch of his body, Morbius summoned enough energy to kick the creature in the face with his free foot. The impact snapped the creature’s head back, blood shooting from its nostrils. Morbius jumped to his feet and grabbed the creature’s head, deciding that a broken neck would end this fight quickly.

  The creature’s black eyes stared, and it seemed to hesitate for a moment. Michael attempted to break the creature’s neck but it was too strong. In response, it plunged its claws into Morbius’ stomach. Then it withdrew its hand and stabbed him again in the exact same spot.

  Morbius screamed. The crowd roared.

  He was losing a lot of blood. Fast.

  Bringing both his hands back, palms open, he slammed them into the creature’s ears. The most vulnerable spot Morbius could see. The creature reacted accordingly, rearing back and holding its head, bellowing in apparent agony.

  Pressing his advantage, Morbius landed a series of devastating punches to the creature’s gut. When it doubled over, he aimed for its face. Faced with such an unrelenting assault, the monster collapsed to the ground, a huge cloud of dust billowing up.

  Morbius fell upon his opponent, hammering its face with more blows. The roar of the crowd grew to a frantic pitch. They were getting the kind of show they clearly desired. But Morbius could barely hear them.

  He was lost in a blood frenzy.

  “Mi-Michael…”

  Morbius stopped punching. Where had that voice come from? Had he imagined it? Then he realized. It was the monster beneath him. Or what had been the monster.

  The creature was bleeding profusely from its nose and mouth and ears. Dying, and in the process it was transforming. Back into its original human form.

  It was Jake.

  “No,” Morbius said, his eyes widening.

  “It’s okay,” Jake rasped. “It’s okay…”

  The crowd’s screams grew more feverish. A chant began, quiet at first and then louder and louder.

  “Finish him!”

  “Finish him!”

  “Finish him!”

  Morbius could see cult members emerging from the two doors, electrical prods in hand. There wasn’t much time.

  “Michael… what you told me… the blood that they used as bait… to get you here. It’s in me, too.”

  “What…?”

  “Drink, Michael. Feed.”

  Morbius looked at Jake’s neck. The vein there pulsed, beckoning to him, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t kill a friend… not again. Not like Emil.

  “Do it!” Jake yelled.

  Morbius bit into his friend’s neck, the sweet salty blood bursting into his mouth. It wasn’t exactly like the blood Fabian had procured, but everyone’s blood was slightly different. It was similar enough, though. As the first gulp entered his system, he felt his mind expand, felt his muscles loosen, and then tighten. All sound fell away.

  The collar around his neck suddenly buzzed and electricity coursed through his body, but it was distant, like a bee sting rather than the excruciating experience it had been before.

  Morbius continued to drink.

  The blood tasted incredible, filling his mouth and his stomach and his entire existence. He could feel the sand against his knee, and then it was inside his knee and his leg, crawling up along the inside of his skin. Soon Morbius was composed entirely of sand… blood-soaked sand… his body expanding with its rough moistness, and he nearly laughed. Nearly choked on the blood that rushed down his throat.

  The insect on his neck kept buzzing, kept stinging him, so he reached up and wrapped his hand around it. It was bigger than he expected, thick and metallic, but Morbius didn’t care. He pulled with all his strength, and the pulling hurt, but he didn’t care about that either. Finally, the thing snapped and he was free of it.

  Dropping it onto the ground, he sat up, his mind clearing slightly as he did so. He blinked and stared down at a dying man. No, not just a man.

  His friend.

  “Jake!”

  “Welcome back, Michael,” Jake replied softly, a smile adorning his pale face. Morbius could hear the cult members approaching but he ignored them, let the strange blood course through his system as he listened. His friend was just about to slip away forever.

  “Can you… can you do me a favor?” Jake said.

  “Anything,” Morbius replied, his mind swimming.

  “Find my wife. Jenny Radford on… Edgar Street… Tell her what happened to me. Tell her that I love her so much…”

  “Of course,” Morbius said, taking Jake’s hand in his own.

  “And remember…” Jake wheezed through his final breaths.

  “What, Jake?” Morbius asked quietly. The sound of the arena was growing again, the angry crowd calling for the death of both monsters now, the cult members only feet away.

  “You are… not a monster.”

  Jake went still. Morbius let go of his friend’s hand.

  And then the cult members were upon him.

  There were a lot of them and they screamed profanities into Morbius’ face as they stuck him with their electrical prods and kicked him and punched him. He took it for a few moments, without moving, staring into Jake’s dead eyes.

  “Goodbye, my friend,” he said, and then he rose.

  The first cult member died instantaneously when Michael’s fangs ripped the man’s throat clear from his neck. Blood burst across the living vampire’s face, creating a vivid, haunting tableau against the pale skin beneath, the dark and violent eyes peering out, seeking his next victim.

  The cult members saw this and hesitated.

  But it was already far too late for them.

  Morbius picked u
p another man and slammed him down over a knee, snapping his spine, then threw the broken, dying cultist into another with such force that bones broke in both of them, sending them collapsing in a heap of flesh and twisted limbs.

  Jake’s mutated blood continued to pulse through Morbius’ body, energizing every part of him. It was far more effective than the blood he’d been given by Liz what seemed like years earlier. Perhaps because it had come directly from the source. Perhaps because Jake’s blood was fresh and pure.

  As he sank his claws into the face of another cult member, he noticed that many more red-robed men and women were pouring in through both doors of the arena. In his current state, he felt like he could probably take on them all, but then he remembered the real reason he was fighting.

  Amanda.

  He needed to escape.

  As the cult members converged on his location, Morbius leapt high into the air and cried out in euphoria. He had never felt this powerful. His mind was a whirl, but he retained far more control than on the night he’d first consumed the mutated blood. There were no more hallucinations as the raw power coursed through his body.

  He cleared the razor wire and landed in the audience section of the arena. Though he was still bleeding from the wounds in his stomach, they were healing quickly. Peering this way and that, he found men and women in expensive suits and dresses who were scrambling to get up from their seats and out the arena. Glasses of wine and plates of food scattered across the floor.

  Michael’s bloody smile widened. He moved purposefully forward, slashing and biting them as he went. The screams of the rich caressed him as he strode up the stone stairs, their bodies falling to the ground as he passed. He had warned them, had told them exactly what he was going to do.

  “I’m going to kill every single one of you.”

  He licked the gore off his fingers as he reached the top of the stairs. It tasted like bloat and excess, at first a pleasant taste, but there was rot beneath the initial sweetness, and Morbius spat onto the floor. All the money in the world wasn’t going to save them from the vengeful wrath of the creature on whom they had been betting only moments earlier.

  Finally, he walked out of the arena and into the shadows of the labyrinthine underground catacombs, taking to the darkness as if he was born to it.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “WHERE IS Morbius?” Amanda asked, almost finished with the food on the plate.

  She and Catherine had barely spoken while she ate. It tasted so good, and she felt guilty for having enjoyed it so much. It had been prepared by murderers, people who had tried to feed her to a demon. She couldn’t afford to let herself get too comfortable here. Still, she was torn.

  Morbius had killed her mother. Allegedly.

  “He fled the city,” Catherine answered. “According to eyewitnesses, he went into a rage and murdered a civilian. The police arrived and chased him, but he flew off into the night. My people tried to follow him but he’s… gone.”

  Amanda stared at her sister as she spoke. She lied with such ease, Amanda didn’t know what to believe. But Morbius was fickle… the way he spoke to her at times. And really, how well did she know him?

  She let out a long sigh.

  “What about Liz?”

  “She’s safe and sound.” Catherine smiled. “We’re taking care of her father as well. He’ll get the care he needs.”

  Amanda grunted. More mixed feelings. Liz had betrayed her, but what choice had they given her? The look of fear on her face told the story. Demon-Fire had threatened her father. Wouldn’t Amanda react the same way, in her place?

  When this ended—if it ever ended—she and Liz would have a long talk. With luck, their friendship wasn’t permanently fractured.

  “So… what’s next?” she asked, curious to hear the answer. Terrified, too. “You going to feed me to a giant cricket?”

  Catherine laughed. Amanda didn’t.

  “Of course not,” Catherine said, standing and moving toward the door. “You always had such a good sense of humor. I don’t think I told you that often enough.”

  “Thanks,” Amanda said flatly.

  “You stay put for a little while,” Catherine said over her shoulder. “I need to talk to a few people, see how preparations are coming along. Then I’d like to make you a formal proposition. It will be up to you whether or not you’d like to accept what I have to offer. And I promise you, if you come around, I’ll never hurt you again. Like I said, I made a mistake, and I’m sorry.” She stopped and turned. “We’re family, and with Mom gone, that’s more important than ever.”

  “Speaking of which,” Amanda said, “where… where’s Dad?”

  Catherine raised an eyebrow.

  “Honestly? I don’t know. My acolytes have spotted him from time to time, but he’s remarkably good at hiding from us. He’s been on our trail for quite some time. I actually hope he finds us now… perhaps we can have a family reunion, and I can convince both of you to join me. I mean it when I say that I’m trying to save the world.”

  “Mm-hm,” Amanda intoned, locking eyes with her sister. She really believed what she was saying.

  Catherine smiled and turned around to leave. “You’ll see.”

  “Wait,” Amanda said. “What did you mean when you said, ‘preparations are coming along’?”

  Catherine placed her hand on the doorknob. She stood completely still for a long moment, and then turned again. Her face was dark, her eyes half-open with a demented kind of clarity.

  Aha, Amanda thought, so there’s Poison-Lark. Goosebumps of fear ran up and down her spine.

  “Tonight is the night that has long been prophesied,” Catherine replied. “The moment everything changes. Like I said, I was wrong about trying to sacrifice you to Arachne. I had been thinking much, much too small. I won’t make that mistake again.” With that, she turned and left the room, closing the door behind her.

  Amanda heard a lock being turned.

  She was trapped. Again.

  * * *

  MORBIUS CREPT through a darkened hallway, his senses expanding and retracting with every breath he took.

  He hadn’t encountered anyone for a couple of minutes, but distant screams of pain and fear echoed all around him. He had made his way through a crowd of wealthy spectators who were bottled up at an exit. Some begged for their lives, while others seemed resigned to their fates, as if they knew they deserved it.

  Either way, Morbius showed no pity.

  These were people who preyed on society, who watched as innocents turned into monsters against their will battled each other to the death. People who laughed and cheered, ate and drank while it occurred. Enabled the violence through their enthusiasm and their patronage. Usually Morbius took no pleasure in the taking of lives, actively hated himself for it most of the time.

  Today, not so much.

  He reached a part of the hallway that branched out in two different directions. He looked down both branches, opened his senses to the sounds and smells coming from each, but he couldn’t tell which was more likely to lead to an exit.

  He cursed. He needed to escape this prison… this coffin.

  From the offshoot to his right, he heard the sound of angry voices. Cultists. A lot of them, coming closer by the minute. His fingers tightened into fists, then he released them.

  No. With the strength he’d gained from Jake’s blood, he felt as if he could overcome any opponents, but he had to stay focused. Morbius turned left and flowed deeper into the shadows.

  This hallway went on for a long time. The pain-filled screams and the sounds of his enraged pursuers grew fainter. He thought for a moment that he could hear the distant rumble of a subway train, but he couldn’t be sure. He thirsted for the night sky. Felt as if he could barely breathe down here anymore.

  Approaching the end of the hallway, he saw a large metal door. Stopping, he cautiously placed his hand on it, but felt nothing other than its cold surface. Part of his mind told him that this could be a
trap, but there was no way Demon-Fire knew exactly where he was. Morbius hesitated for another moment until he heard the shouts of the cultists, far behind him.

  He had a simple choice.

  Enter this door and face whatever lay behind it, or turn around and battle an unknown number of foes, not knowing what kinds of weapons they had. He realized then that the effect of Jake’s blood was wearing off, just slightly. He had no idea if he would return to his normal strength once it was gone, or if his wounds would manifest again, leaving him vulnerable. Although it was healing, his stomach was still bleeding.

  The sounds of the shouting increased.

  Morbius made his decision.

  The door was locked, so he threw his shoulder against it with all his strength. The lock shattered, and heavy door swung slowly open. His eyes widened when he saw where he was.

  “Interesting…”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  FRANKLIN LATTIMER had been born several months too early.

  As a result, he grew into a tiny boy with a disproportionately large head, and suffered constant ignominy as a result. Badly bullied as a child, he retreated into his studies, bolstered when his rich parents sent him away to the best private schools. He realized at some point that they may have just been trying to get rid of him, that they probably didn’t like looking at him either, but by that point he didn’t care.

  He took great solace in being by himself. Threw himself into his studies, in particular biochemistry, where he excelled.

  After college, where he graduated at the top of his class, he found it difficult to find a job. He shouldn’t have needed one. His parents had so much money, but they wanted him to be independent, to make his own way. He told them he understood their reasoning, but secretly he cursed them. Easy for them to say, with their normal-sized bodies and heads.

  Their privilege rankled him.

  His résumé earned him many interviews with major laboratories, but once he arrived, his potential employers would stare at his misshapen body and verbally stumble through their rote questions. Franklin would answer them thoroughly, showcasing his brilliance and humor, but it didn’t matter. The meetings would always end quickly, with the interviewer awkwardly mumbling that they would be in touch soon.