Todd, being like Travis, a new member, decided to stand up. "My name is Todd, and this is my first group session." He sighed. "A sensitive saw me in a bar fight one night. He... He controlled me and used me as his personal hitman. He was a drug lord, and wanted people beaten up for not paying him what they owed him." Todd sighed again. "This went on for almost three years, until one day he stopped having me just beat them up. He started having me beat them until they stopped breathing, men, women, even teenagers." He sobbed. "I killed nine people for that telepathic bastard before someone finally caught him. I almost went to prison over it had it not been for Doctor Wade." He sat back down.
Travis kept quiet. He wasn't ready to share.
Travis had sat in the group meetings for nearly two weeks before finally, he felt like standing and going into the details of what had happened to him. He couldn't remember Cale's name and was fully convinced that it was Cale that was the sensitive given the way Heidi had manipulated him. It felt good getting the courage to start talking about it. When everyone else was being quiet, he slowly stood up. "He made me doubt that God loved me. He, uh, made me see things, see him as the devil as he raped me. It went on for weeks, months." His jaw quivered. "He picked me out at a bar one night, and the next thing I knew, I was in a sex sling being raped almost every night." he looked around the room. "I had a full ride at Armstine University." Travis closed his eyes as he became tearful. "My grades dropped, I missed my laser ball practices; he even infected me with HPVR, which I gave to my fiancé." He looked at everyone sobbing. "I couldn't tell her what was happening because of the mind control. She thought I was cheating and left me…. The last night he raped me; I thought I was going to see the devil and ask him to kill me. Instead, he shoved a beer bottle inside me and left me in that swing. He left me there, right as an Interpol raid in the prostitution sector took place. I ended up in jail for almost thirteen weeks until a judge finally decided to hear my case because my parents refused to bail me out, thinking I was a prostitute…" Travis sat down.
Atlas looked over at Travis as he adjusted his glasses. "That's very brave of you for telling us, Travis."
Travis nodded as he wiped away some tears.
Atlas looked over at the one person in the group that was new that had yet to say a word. The woman was older than Travis, late forties for sure, early fifties, possibly. To Travis and everyone else, the woman looked like a junkie. That rumor was true. Deborah Huxley sat there, rolling her eyes and scoffing. Atlas looked at her. "Deborah, it is time to be brave."
The thinly made woman stood up as she scratched at her beautifully designed, floral tattoos going down both arms. She was frustrated, agitated even. Her voice yielded a heavy old Bronx accent. "Look, I'm just here because Interpol thinks all the drugs I was selling was because I was dating a sensitive, alright?"
Atlas pushed, "Let's try talking about it, Deborah."
Deborah threw her hands up in the air and dropped them at her side. "Look, I ain't ever had a sensitive do me wrong, alright? Hell, I got two kids, each one by a different sensitive, okay?" She looked around. "I'm sorry a sensitive did the things they did to everyone in this room, but they are not all bad. My first husband, hell, he was a hard worker, provider. The only reason he's dead is because of that fucking Global Care insurance took too long to approve our son Ezra's increased dose of Xyphamine. My husband started cutting his meds in half to give our son a larger dose since Ez was a higher level sensitive." She shrugged, "So husband blew his head off one night. Hell, my husband sacrificed his medication for our son. Unfortunately, Ezra's father was a high-level sensitive too and couldn't handle the telepathic overload from hearing every voice in our fucking apartment building. The real criminals are the damn government got it?" She looked around. "Now sure, my next boyfriend, yeah, he was an asshole, but he never mind-controlled me. He was just a druggie, and like my husband, he couldn't get a higher dose of that suppressant, so he turned to Mexaphedamin since it takes the edge off. He got addicted and then got me hooked since I was depressed as fuck." She looked at each face. "You watch your husband blew his fucking brains out because he couldn't handle the pain and the telepathic backlash and see how fucking depressed you get, see how much that fucks you up." She sighed. "So, I turned to drugs, alright? We got high off Mexa every fucking night we could afford it, then I got pregnant, had my daughter Raven, and now my son, who just became an Interpol agent is raising his sister because I have been in and out of rehab." She looked around. "As I said, there are some nasty sensitives out there, but the largest majority of them are good people, alright. Me being here is just bullshit, okay? Bullshit…" She sat back down.
Atlas looked at his tablet, typed a few things, and then looked at the group. "Well then, we all know each other's stories. We can all heal from what sensitives have done to us. Remember, it was never anyone's fault in this room what they made us do."
Deborah scoffed. "Woopity fucking doo, did you not hear what I said, mother fucker. A sensitive didn't influence me. I'm a fucking drugged-out bitch that left her kids high and dry, so stop making it sound like a sensitive is the root of everyone's fucking evil ways, okay?"
Atlas looked at her with a harsh glare and a tone to match. "Thank you for sharing Deborah."
She looked at him as her dry brown hair fell on her face. She blew out, blowing it out of the way, and matched his tone. "You're welcome, Atlas."
Atlas stood up. "Everyone, same time tomorrow. I have a good feeling about the healing that can happen in this room." He seemed giddy.
Travis got up to leave. There was noise in the room as others were talking. Atlas went straight over to Travis and put his hand on Travis's shoulder. "That was brave of you, Travis. God loves you, and no matter what, you have to know that it wasn't your fault."
Travis nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Chrome."
Altas smiled. "Oh, please, call me Atlas." He patted him on the shoulder. "Would you mind walking with me for a moment?"
Travis nodded. "Okay, I guess."
The two walked down a busy hallway of the apartment building. Atlas keeping an eager expression on his face. "You know, I have heard of others saying that a sensitive made them see the devil. Two other men in one of my previous groups said the same things you did, Travis. The same things."
Travis's eyes widened. "Sex swing and all?"
Atlas nodded. "I think you are number three, victimized by the same foul-hearted mind-witch that abused them too."
"Mind? Witch?" Travis asked.
Atlas nodded. "I have a friend of mine, that when you are ready, I think can restore your faith, and maybe help you heal along with those two men I mentioned, maybe introduce you two him."
Travis shrugged. "Well, I have to say you make that sound pretty tempting. I'm all about trying to heal and get past this whole nightmare."
Atlas smiled. "When you're ready, my friend, I will introduce you to a man that we call, The Monk. He has helped a lot of mind-witch victims better than I can."
Chapter 0.3- Flashback.
Friday, February 18th, 2118, Night of the Comet.
Travis was standing in front of a crowd of twenty-two young men, each sitting in a metal chair in a large room. The room was set up like an assembly room, it was a bit comfier off to the side as sofas daunted the outer area. A few bookshelves were seen, but what really set the room off, were the trophies. Not just any trophies, not of animals, but human heads that had been taxidermized and made to have their tongues sticking out, curled, with their eyes wide open, and faces made to look furious or angry.
The Travis that was happy-go-lucky once upon a time was now a hardened man on a mission to undo the wrongs that Sensitives created. Travis had gone from a man that wouldn't hurt a fly, to a man that felt it was God's will, that these mind-witches be hunted down and destroyed. The man Atlas had introduced him to, a man knew only as, The Monk, was quite influential among those wronged by sensitives.
Travis looked on those trophies with pride. He smiled and then addressed the
others. "Gentlemen, tonight, we, The Soldiers of His Holy Light, go into battle, yet again."
He came down from the podium and stood by a dry erase board. There were drawings, with names, poorly drawn houses, one named The Haze. "The Monk says that we need to change things up a little bit men. We have been picking witches off left and right, but we need to change up our targets. Tonight, we need to take a redheaded witch, a ginger." He smirked. "I hear they are truly soulless, anyways."
Travis paced. "Tonight, our four watchers, are in position at four of the most popular witch-havens in Bastion City. I gave the order for them to begin screening for a redheaded witch. Three teams will be going out tonight and use this ungodly comet as our cover, for I have no doubt that God, our God, our mighty and powerful God, will guide mankind's powerful technologies, to blow that unholy ball from the skies."
"Are there any questions?"
A timid man, with long brown hair, stood up slowly. He was new, a fresh recruit recently sent over by Atlas Chrome. He had passed some of their tests and was in the final stages of helping kill his first mind-witch. Though he did have a few doubts. "Are we sure they, you know, are really witches? I mean, science…"
Travis cut him off quickly and pointed at him. "Kellen Pennywise? Right?"
Kellen nodded. "Yes, sir."
Travis grew stern in his voice. "You're new, I get it. I was like you, new once. God has indeed given science to man, to help better our world, but so has the devil Kellen. The Monk has shown all of us that certain sciences, are the devil's handy work and that drug that you are thinking about, the side effect that made them? It was no side effect, Kellen. The devil gave whatever unholy godless whore that made that medicine the recipe for creating these abominations. That drug was nothing more than the Devil's Alchemy, got it? The Devils Alchemy, to bring a new age of witches into this world to vex mankind." He started pacing again. "Now, these homosexual witches can reproduce, thanks again to the devil's technology. These at-home birthing devices that can take their blood to mingle and create more of their kind, why these witches are a twice-over-abomination. Which brings me to phase three, after tonight, The Monk wants us to start using these dating apps to increase our hunting grounds, and once we have these witches scared to go to their havens, we will enact phase four men, and hunt those down who would mingle blood with these abominations. There can be no sympathizers willing to mix blood with a mind-witch, especially these faggot witches, because once they start mingling blood in these new satanic devices to produce more offspring with sympathizers, their bloodlines will spread, understand!?"
Travis waited until everyone nodded. "King James, Exodus 22-18! What does it say, men?!"
They all called out in unison. "Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live!"
Travis yelled. "What does Leviticus 20-13 say?!"
They all yelled out. "IF THERE IS A MAN WHO LIES WITH A MALE AS THOSE WHO LIE WITH A WOMAN, BOTH OF THEM HAVE COMMITTED A DETESTABLE ACT!"
"AND LEVITICUS 18-22?!" Travis yelled.
Again, they all yelled together. "MEN SHALL NOT LIE WITH A MALE AS ONE LIES WITH A FEMALE; IT IS AN ABOMINATION!"
Travis went over to the dry erase board. "These things are witches, these things are abominations, a twice-over abomination! Now you all have your orders." He pointed at Kellen. "You, you're not ready yet. Go back to the pulpit chamber with the other new recruits."
Kellen sulked off.
A black male roughly younger than Travis approached. He had a good build, solid, wearing a black hooded robe. "Brother Newstead?"
"Brother Bubbins? Are you coming with me tonight?" Travis asked.
"I picked the slaying site, I will be there ready and waiting. Brother Hobart, asked me to see if you are going in with a disguise tonight?"
Travis nodded. "The Monk suggested it. Interpol agents are watching the hunting grounds. I've decided to use my Greg Davenport identity."
Kanton Bubbins nodded. "Probably a good idea. Even with our computer program helping wipe the facial recognition programs that they use, it probably wouldn't be a bad idea."
Travis nodded. "The Monk tells me that his access with Interpol remains as it should. God is watching over us, Kanton. I just know it."
Kanton smiled. "You better go get with Paul if you're going to have time to put on your Greg's face."
Travis nodded. "I was just thinking that."
The two men gave each other a hug. Travis took off and walked down the hallway. The hallway was littered with empty trophy spots, though one was filled that caused Travis to stop and look at. It was the face of his first kill, a young blond man, just turning eighteen and his first night at a gay bar. Travis smiled as he looked at the way their artist had made the young man's handsome face, look mean and ugly. Travis smiled. "I think the ginger will go next to you."
Travis went down the hall and made a left then a right. He went into a room where there were floating gadgets being propelled by laser lights. A man, a thick man, sitting at a desk, was designing artificial masks that looked realistic, life-like. He had designed a robotical mesh that resembled flesh. It could conform to the wearer and alter their appearances drastically. He was making some tweaks to the latest mask. All one had to do was put the mask on, and it conformed to the face. It looked real, felt real, and moved with the wearer as if it were their real skin."
"Paul, I need Gregory Davenport tonight."
Paul nodded and got up and went over to a locker. He pressed a thumbprint module and opened the locker. Inside there were dozens of realistic faces resting comfortably. He reached for a face that had long blond hair done up in a manbun. Travis went over to another locker and put on a black shirt, black pants, and black shoes to match. He had been working out for the past six years, getting the body he needed to overpower the witches. Once he was ready, he turned to Paul and reached for the synthetic mask. He raised it over his head and slid it down. The face came alive as if it were an alien organism attaching itself. It molded and changed, fitting Travis's face, and making him look nothing like he was. Travis walked over to a mirror and double-checked to make sure the skin tone was matching seamlessly. "Alright, Greg, it is showtime."
Paul nodded as he handed Travis an I.D card programmed with an additional layer of security. It could deposit a computer program with each swipe, that helped spread the program that distorted the facial recognition software to the clubs directly. It was the Monk's job to distribute it to Interpol, which he had successfully done so months ago. Paul spoke up. "What's the target tonight?"
Travis looked at him while feeling his new face. "A redhead. Where are my contacts?"
A floating orb came over to Travis and extended two robotic tentacles. The ends expanded, opening his eyelids wide, and a third smaller tentacle emerged, which placed a contact in each eye. Once placed, the orb flew off while Travis's blue eyes became brown, and not just that, but could zoom in, and display a list of targets already streaming in from one of the four watchdogs working as bouncers or doormen. Travis smirked. "I want a real redhead, a ginger, not some of these hair-dyed witches, but a real ginger, look for an auburn color. He said."
The mask had a built-in commlink, which helped him stay in contact with his team. He turned to Paul. "I love the commlink upgrades."
Paul smiled. "Once we go to phase three, we may not need the masks as often."
Travis nodded. "Our recruits have to get their first witch without a disguise to prove their worth to The Monk, so don't get ahead of yourself."
Paul nodded. "Reason we have taken all these extra precautions. By the way, by next month, I should have full-body suits ready."
Travis looked at him. "What about the neural dampeners?"
Paul scoffed. "Built into the mask, buddy. If any of the watchers have been lied to by one of those satanic abominations when they ask if they've taken their meds or not, don't you worry, I packed a quad micro fusion generator into each mask Travis. You let one of those mind-witch bastards try to read your mind, you wo
n't even need the scopolamine."
"Speaking of?" Travis asked.
Paul went over to a computer station and opened a white drawer. He came back with a watch. He slid the top part over to where Travis could see the white powdered form of scopolamine, just waiting for him to dump it into a drink." I doubled the dose tonight, refined it some. One sip, maybe two, and your witch will be down for the count before you can say Abomination!"
Travis grinned. "Right on, brother."
"When are we going to phase three and four?' Paul asked.
"The Monk wants us to wait until Interpol issues official public statements. At that point, these witch-bastards won't be out as much. That's when we start phase three and phase four, once it goes public about the apps. We have got to make sure humans know that fusing with these abominations can't happen, and the only way to do that is to judge those who would mingle with them."
"But what about the hetro-witches? Phase five?"
"The Monk is working on that Paul. You know how the Monk works. When he knows the best time to strike, he will prepare us for the final battles once we get these twice-over-abominations thinned to extinction." Travis said.
Todd Ablestien, the bulky bald man that Travis had met in the group home, had also joined The Soldiers of his Holy Light. He was contacting in. Travis could see him through the contact lens as it lit up and became robotical for a moment. "Yes, Todd?"
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