“Very well, Abbot. Please continue.”
Blake raised his hand. “How exactly am I involved in this grand plan of yours? You don’t need me or Quinn to play weather god around here. You seem to be doing just fine without us, and quite frankly, while the shit you’re talking about is fascinating, it’s telling me nothing.”
Victor nodded. “I believe the second part will interest you more. Consider Directed Energy Response, the last half of The Order’s acronym. Rangeley is an old facility. We have more modern facilities around New England.”
“Yeah, I remember you said that.”
“Indeed. Manipulating the weather is great; weaponizing the weather patterns could be even better, but directing psychological confusion against our enemies so that our operatives can go in and take out the bad guy is the real aim of why we need successful orgone regeneration.”
“Okay, I’m still not getting how I’m involved. It sounds like you’re upgrading your CloudBusters into brain lasers or something.”
“Not the brightest bulb in the chandelier, is he?” Mother Superior asked, her voice thick with disdain.
Victor smirked and pointed at Blake, continuing his patient explanation. “You, Blake could be that operative since normal human beings—and any organic matter—would be adversely affected by the weaponized orgone. An operation could look something like this; we fire the orgone system and bounce the energy off our satellites in space to the targeted area with the right concentration and disrupt the weather or the psychological—even physiological—status of the targets. We would distract local defenders long enough for you to bring the pain of swift justice to those who need it. You could punish the unpunished and bring people in line with our way of thought.”
Blake smiled. Now you’re talking my game.
“The Order is the organization that will bring, well, order to chaos and end terrorist threats no matter where they are. With you, we can achieve these goals much faster than originally planned. Mother Superior, the Archimandrion, and the Council have far grander plans for you, Blake, plans that I know you’ll enjoy carrying out. I believe you are willing to do what it takes to help us advance The Order’s silent but powerful influence in the world.”
“I take it no clinical research discussion has taken place with the boy?” Mother Superior asked, crossing her right leg over her left.
Blake watched Victor become visibly disturbed. He fumbled for his words. “No, we have not crossed that bridge yet. There’s, uh…well we haven’t really discussed that yet, either. Uh, Blake, with the dawn of two super-powered humans, the Governing Council wants us to study you.”
Quinn was right, they want to experiment on us. I’m getting sick of her attitude and I don’t like the way she’s treating Victor, or me.
He slapped the arm of his chair and pushed himself up. “What is it you want, Mother Superior?” Blake asked loudly.
Annoyed, she looked at him indignantly.
He smirked and summoned his fire and limited electrical powers. Around them, the lights began flickering and his eyes glowed orange. “If you want to see what I can do, all you had to do was ask me nicely.”
Mother Superior’s eyes widened with surprise as Blake’s hands ignited into balls of flame.
“Holy crap!” Victor exclaimed, unaware of his newest super power.
Blake grinned wickedly. If you like that, then you’ll enjoy this…
A bright and hot ball of fire formed and exploded between his hands, startling his captive audience of two. Then, his powers faded. He leaned forward, his eyes glowing brightly. “If you ask politely instead of being a bitch, I’ll help you. But if you push me, I’ll push back…and I guarantee you won’t like it one bit.”
12 | Unwanted Tension
Quinn
QUINN OPENED THE FRONT DOOR and let Blake into the house. “Hey,” he said, cutting his greeting short. He didn’t want to pounce on Blake and ask why he had cut school because he could feel something uncomfortable between them.
“Hi, Blake,” Daddio called out from the living room as Blake stepped inside and shut the door behind him. “Hope you’re feeling better.”
Blake looked at Quinn with confusion.
Quinn whispered an explanation to Blake. “I told them you were home sick today when they asked about you at dinner.”
Blake’s eyes widened with understanding and he answered Daddio from the hallway. “Yeah, I had a wicked migraine this morning. It went away around lunch.”
“Good, glad you’re feeling better! Well, go get caught up on your missed assignments.”
Quinn led Blake up to his bedroom. Blake shut the door behind them as Quinn walked over to his desk and sat down in his chair. “So…a migraine?”
“Not exactly.”
“So, where were you?” Quinn snapped.
“Look, before you say anything, I want you to know that…”
“You were with Victor, weren’t you?” Quinn asked, already knowing what his best friend was going to say.
Blake sighed and nodded. He sat on the edge of Quinn’s bed and folded his hands in his lap.
Quinn waved his hand across his chest. “Let’s table that for a minute. Have you seen the news?”
“Uh, no…”
Quinn turned around in his chair and flipped open his MacBook. Since he had already queued up the news video, he pressed play and they watched the police address the reporters.
“Oh wow,” Blake uttered when the news clip ended. “I had no idea, Quinn.”
“The government is after me, Blake.”
“Yeah, I can see that. You know that means they won’t be far behind me once they figure out there’s a second super-powered person. Victor already knew I used my powers twice…I have no idea if the police know.”
“Well, if they do, they aren’t saying anything,” Quinn answered, staring at nothing in particular. “Maybe they’re trying to prevent a public riot.”
Blake cleared his throat. “Victor and The Order promised us protection if we signed up with them.”
“The Order?” Quinn raised his right eyebrow with interest.
“Oh, right,” Blake said. “Allow me to fill you in on what I learned today while in Rangeley.”
Quinn’s eyes popped open and he sat up with surprise. “You went to Rangeley today? How did you even get there?”
“Victor’s men chauffeured me back and forth.”
“Shit, Blake,” Quinn said. “I can’t believe you’re starting to skip school to be with Victor.”
Blake frowned. “You can judge me, or you can listen to what I have to say.”
Quinn took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, leaning back in his chair. “Fine. I’m listening.”
Blake shared everything he learned from Victor about the facility, The Order and its purpose. He talked about his meeting with Mother Superior, his understanding of the archaic hierarchy that governed them, and their overarching plan to take out bad guys anywhere in the world. “They’d also like the opportunity to run some tests on us to figure out what happened and what’s going on inside of us.”
“Experimentation!” Quinn exclaimed.
“That’s not how she phrased it.”
“How exactly then, did this Mother Superior person phrase it?”
“She asked Victor if any clinical research discussion had taken place, that’s all. She didn’t say anything about cutting us open.”
“I’m not doing it,” Quinn said, shaking his head. “I don’t need to know how the powers work, and I don’t need them to learn how, either. What’s to stop them from creating more super humans?”
“Uh, nothing, really.”
“You know how this goes, Blake. The mystery agency learns how to duplicate its accidental science experiment and then creates a bunch of super-powered beings with perfect, fully charged powers that we’ll have to stop. This is like Ultron, but different. I’m not going to willingly help them create Armageddon.”
“Armageddon? Shit,
Quinn, would you stop being so dramatic for a second? Let me get this straight, your plan is that you’re going to sit back and hope they can’t create more of us?”
“Yeah, that’s right, and you shouldn’t be helping them. There’s something else going on, something they aren’t telling us.”
“But I’m finally in with Mother Superior. I’m sure it’s only a matter of time until she, uh, talks more with me.”
Quinn shook his head. “You mean when she starts barking orders about who you need to deal with? Have you even thought about that? When they talk about ‘the enemy,’ you better figure out who that really is and whether you’re ready to do something on their behalf…something that doesn’t sound anything like gently arresting people.”
Blake sighed.
“When we were at the warehouse, Victor used phrase, ‘exact swift justice.’ What does that even mean? Is that code for killing people?”
“I…I’m not really sure.”
Quinn sat forward again. “Yes, you are, Blake! Would you be willing to kill someone for The Order?”
Blake hesitated. “If they were bad enough and that was the only way…then, probably.”
Quinn’s eyes widened in surprise at Blake’s answer. “You would be willing to kill someone, Blake?” he asked, again, astonished at his friend’s ideas of what a superhero should be.
“Yes, if their death saved more lives.”
“What if you disagree with The Order?”
“Dammit, Quinn, I don’t have all the answers,” Blake yelled, scowling at him.
Quinn shushed him. “My dads are downstairs and I don’t need the house blown up by accident.”
“I can control it now, thanks,” Blake sneered.
“It’s like I don’t know you anymore. This thing…this power…has changed you.”
“Like it hasn’t changed you at all?” Blake spat back, folding his arms across his chest.
“Blake, I’ve always wanted to be like Superman or Batman. I want to help and save people. What you’re signing up for is like the complete opposite of that and it’s got me super worried.”
“Worried about what?”
“That one day I’m going to have to stop you from doing something…evil.”
“Fuck you,” Blake snarled. “I’m not the fucking super villain in this story.”
Exasperated, Quinn slapped the sides of his face with his hand. “But you will become the villain if you keep doing what these people want.”
Blake rolled his eyes. “Did it ever occur to you that maybe you’re the one who’s overreacting, and The Order is no different than any other intelligence agency with a bunch of specially trained operatives around the world? That’s all this is. You’re making them out to be this maniacal Doctor Evil type of organization fixated on global domination or something.”
“Blake, listen to yourself!” Quinn said, exasperated, feeling heat coming from his best friend.
“Why do you have to be so stubborn? I am listening to myself!” Blake exclaimed in a hushed yell. He stood, jabbing his thumb at his chest. “For the first time ever, I’m listening to myself and thinking about what it is I want to do. I’m so tired of being told what’s wrong with me or what I’m doing wrong. So, fuck you, Quinn, and good luck when the feds catch up with you. Just leave me out of it.”
Blake stormed out of Quinn’s bedroom, made his way downstairs, and slammed the front door shut behind him.
Quinn sat back and stared at the open doorway. Holy crap, what just happened? Did we just…have a friend breakup or something?
“Everything all right?” Daddio called up from the bottom of the stairs.
“Uh, yeah, his, uh…his dad’s been a real asshole this week. He’s mad at everyone, even me.”
“He’ll come around,” Daddio said. “Best friends always do.”
I hope you’re right.
“I think I’m gonna go for a run, Daddio” Quinn said, changing into his track pants and short-sleeved track jacket.
“Now? It’s eight o’clock.”
“Yeah, I know. I need to burn that fight off.”
“Okay, take your phone with you and be careful out, it’s dark.”
❖
Blake
Who the hell does he think he is to judge me?
He pedaled hard, nearly snapping the pedals off his bicycle as his anger over Quinn’s stubborn refusal to accept his choice churned in his mind. He could feel heat radiating from his body, but he didn’t care as long as his bike didn’t melt. Since he wasn’t ready to go home, he headed up South Street toward Prescott Park, keenly aware of Quinn’s lingering presence behind him. At the moment, Quinn was running after him. Blake decided not to make it easy for his friend to apologize and he wasn’t in the mood to continue arguing; he did that enough at home.
My mind is made up, he’s either with me or against me.
Steering his bike into the south corner of the park from Marcy Street, he made his way across the grass and through the flower gardens to the path at the water’s edge. Somewhere on the other side of the park a man and woman were fighting and cussing one another out. The cool, still air carried their voices over the sound of the river and the machinery at the naval shipyard.
Seriously? Again? How do I always find these losers?
Blake loudly cleared his throat to announce his presence in the darkened park, but it didn’t seem to stop the couple from fighting. He jumped off his bike and walked it to a bench near one of the wooden piers. Whatever that couple was fighting over, she was letting him have it, oblivious to anyone around them.
In the small parking area on the other side of the park, near the Memorial Bridge, Blake watched a police cruiser drive in and flash its spotlight around. The police didn’t see anyone except Blake walking his bicycle, so they made their way out of the parking area. He selected a bench and leaned his bike against it, not bothering to lock it up since no one was around except for the fighting couple. Blake guessed they were inside the walled flower garden.
Then, he closed his eyes and turned invisible, leaving himself alone with his thoughts, refusing to care if anyone saw him disappear. Opening his eyes, he made his way to the usual pier where he and Quinn often loitered. The angry couple kept at it behind him, providing distracted amusement from his otherwise perturbed state. What the hell am I going to do now? Do I stay in school? Do I work with Victor? Do I lose my best friend over this?
Several minutes later, they concluded their argument and the night air became still. Several minutes after that, Quinn ran up to Blake’s bike and stopped, bending over to grab his knees as he briefly caught his breath and looked around. Blake watched his eyes track around the park until they focused on the pier. Then, Quinn walked toward Blake.
“I can’t see you, but I can sense where you are. It’s different from when we were sneaking around the woods at Rangeley.”
Blake shimmered into view.
“You gotta admit, that’s pretty cool,” Quinn said.
Blake feigned a smile and nodded.
“I don't suppose there's any way I can get you to change your mind?” Quinn asked.
“You mean not go to Rangeley, not work with Victor, and not become who I want to be?”
Quinn sighed and nodded.
“No, Quinn, you cannot.”
“At least, promise me that if things get sketchy, you'll get out. If you think they're going to hurt you, get out and come find me.”
“Yup.”
They stared at each other for a moment in silence until Quinn spoke softly. “Okay. Well, I guess I'll see you at school, then.”
“Bye.”
Quinn shook his head and started running down the pier. Then, he turned around and ran back, tears running down his cheeks. His voice was shaken and filled with emotion. “You're my best friend, Blake; we’ve never had a fight like this before. I don’t want to hurt you, but I can’t agree with you when it comes to Victor.”
Blake tightened his jaw and l
ooked down at the wooden deck boards under his feet. Then he raised his head and his left eyebrow to Quinn. “One day, you'll see how important this is to me.”
“I hope you're right,” Quinn said. He wiped his eyes and turned away, then ran into the night.
❖
Riding back into his neighborhood, Blake’s super vision caught sight of a bunch of black vehicles near Hislop Park. Curious, he steered his bicycle toward the silent commotion.
As he approached, he noted government license plates on each black vehicle. He saw a small group of men and women resembling agents from a movie scouring the park. They appeared to be looking for something, but Blake couldn't fathom what.
“Excuse me young man,” one of the agents called out, waving him over. Standing near him, Blake recognized the woman from the dugout assault he saved several nights ago.
Oh shit, will she recognize me?
He looked down and smiled when he realized he wore his maroon Clippers sweatshirt instead of the inconspicuous hoodie he had worn when he saved her.
Blake rode over to the man and braked to a stop, setting his feet on the ground.
“Thank you for stopping. I'm Agent Callahan with the Department of Homeland Security. Would you answer a couple of questions for me?”
“Sure,” Blake answered. The woman, the victim from the other night, did not seem to pay attention to him.
“Do you live around here?” The agent asked.
“Yes, over on Raleigh Way.”
“Do you often ride your bike a night?”
“Yeah, it's my only way to get around. If I'm coming home from work or my friend’s house, I have to ride my bike home.”
“Great, thank you. What I’m curious to know is if you've seen anything unusual here over the past week?”
“No,” Blake answered, trying to sound like a normal, disinterested teenager. “Can you give me an example?”
“Two men, one taller than the other, who do not live here but might have been hanging around over the past week.”
“I don't know all the people who live in this neighborhood, sorry. If I saw them I wouldn't necessarily think they did not belong here.”
Unidentified Phenomenon Page 11