Paragon
Chapter 8

Zeke turned the television off and sat in dumbfounded silence. His mouth was open and his eyes simply stared at the screen.

“I haven’t seen Collin in… years. Do you remember what he was like?” Zeke said still staring at the now blank TV screen.

“Yeah, always jittery, hyper; last time I saw him he was just a few days from his breakdown and he couldn’t hold still for more than a second. He would always pace or something just to keep himself moving.” Jon seemed equally stunned, judging by his tone. Neither of them could believe that they had just seen Collin Eckert not only alive and well, but seemingly cured.

“Do you think they really cured him?”

“Seems that way… I know that look, what in God’s name is going on in that icy skull of yours?”

“Maybe a cure isn’t such a bad thing…” Zeke said. His eyes wondered down and started looking over his blue skinned hands and fingers. “What if we could be normal, Jon?” Suddenly Zeke felt the sharp pain of a bare palm rake across his face. Jon simply stared Zeke in the eyes with momentary disgust and then he slapped Zeke again. This time Zeke dodged but Jon’s fingers still caught his chin and, given Jon’s strength, still stung.

“Maybe for people like Collin, but there ain’t nothin’ wrong with you or me. Saying there’s a cure for Supers is like saying there’s a cure for black skin or squinty eyes. It’s like saying we should ban guns cause one lunatic missing half his nuts and bolts shot up a cafeteria. Don’t let me hear you say shit like that again.” Jon turned his attention back to his work with a scowl on his hardened mug. Zeke rubbed his jaw and cheek, still feeling the light sting of Jon’s palm against his skin.

“It’s different for Supers like you, Jon.” Zeke finally blurted out after a long, drawn out silence. Jon sighed and planted his face in both his hands. “You get to go outside and see people; do things. You don’t have to ask your fiancé to go to the store or the frikkin’ RedBox for you. You can take a damn walk in the park if you want to!”

“The pity-party doesn’t become you, Zeke,” Jon grimaced.

“What if we’re on the wrong side here, Jon? Think about it; no more hiding underground; no more nullifiers!” Zeke exclaimed.

“If you actually believe that that psychopath is doing anything other than spreading propaganda you’re an idiot. Get an icepick, chip some of that rime away and use your damn head, man! If Vladimir is even half as bad as the sick fuck, Dr. Vivisector, then what makes you think he has any interest in curing you, huh?”

“Maybe that’s what the experiments were for. The means are messed up but-“

“But nothing!” Jon shouted as he stood suddenly. Jon grabbed his tablet and flipped through several screens until he found what he was looking for and then shoved the image towards Zeke. “You think any kind of cure justifies this!?” The image before Zeke’s eyes was a still-shot from a security camera of the same operating room they’d been put in when the doctor had tried to vivisect them. The doctor was hovering over a girl who couldn’t have been older than twelve. Most of the skin had been flayed from her body leaving only her face which was adorned with scales that armored her cheeks.

“What is… I…” Zeke stammered as he stood in horror simply staring at the little girl’s face.

“Ariana Klinger. She went missing six months ago and I’ve been trying to replace her ever since. She was born with scales and a tail. She could also regenerate slowly which was discovered when she accidently got her thumb cut off when she was seven. Her brother accidentally slammed the car door shut on her fingers. It took a week but they grew back.” Jon set the tablet back on the table and clenched his fists. His stance became aggressive; his face became hollow with the look of failure and self-loathing. “Her parents complied with the registration act and had her tracking chip implanted when she was old enough to undergo the surgery. According to these files, the doctor wanted to see how her regeneration worked and if it could be sped up. By the looks of things he was trying to replace out what gene gave her the gift. He also took immense pleasure in flaying her and watching her skin grow back, only to do it again.”

“She wasn’t with the captives we freed…” Zeke whispered. When Jon had set the tablet down Zeke found he still could not tear his eyes away from the image. He was still staring down at it on the coffee table.

“That’s because she died three weeks ago, Zeke. She died on the operating table due to excessive trauma. Her body couldn’t take the abuse anymore so it just gave up. She was eleven, Zeke. Eleven.” Jon said, then got right in Zeke’s face. Their noses almost touched and Jon locked eyes with Zeke. “Do you really think they want to cure us?”

“No… No, probably not, you’re right. I’m not sure what got into my head there for a minute…” Zeke whispered. For a brief moment he found he wasn’t able to look his friend in the eye anymore and averted his gaze. Jon took a step back and then returned to his seat on the couch.

“We all feel alienated sometimes, Z, but evil does exist in this world. It’s not just a corny word for comic books and fantasy novels. It’s a very real thing and we’re looking straight down its gullet. The majority doesn’t see it and probably never will and they’re the lucky ones. They get bliss.” Jon’s eyes went distant; he seemed to be recalling past events and other grotesque images from memory. He shuddered from the sudden chill that crept down his spine.

“Then we have to be different, we can’t stoop to their level. We should’ve found a way to bring the doctor in. Question him, turn him in or something.”

“Considering Chief Slayt is likely in Draco’s pocket? Not likely. He’s dead and the world is better for it.”

“We can’t just kill everyone we think is evil, Jon.”

“Technically, you can.” A new voice piped in. Zeke recognized it immediately and spun around looking for the source. Jon was on his feet and quickly drew his Glock and started scanning the room. Zeke saw nothing until he turned to his television and found it had turned itself on and was showing the unmistakable image of Phalanx. The man was standing in front of a black back-drop with his iconic Spartan helmet on. He wore a red tank-top that seemed to make his musculature even more impressive. The man was massive and ripped with muscle that would make any and every body builder known to man jealous.

“How in the hell…” Jon stammered for a moment when he turned his own attention to the TV screen.

“Let’s skip the boring ‘how’s’ and get to the ‘why.’ I need your help. If you want to make a difference there’s an address sitting on your kitchen table. Meet me there tonight at the time specified and we can talk more.” The television went black again and Zeke and Jon were left stunned.

“How does he know where you live?” Jon asked.

“He must’ve followed me or tracked me or… hell, I don’t know. I don’t know, Jon, the man is apparently a few thousand years old. I’m sure he’s better at this than either of us.” Zeke muttered and then rushed to the kitchen. Sure enough sitting on the table was a notecard with an address and “2300” marked on it. Military time, just so that there would be no confusion over A.M. or P.M.

“Damnit man, I’ve told you to be careful when coming home!” Jon burst out.

“I am careful! I check the perimeter and every alley and rooftop before I crawl through the window. Maybe this isn’t a bad thing, he’s the good guy right?” Zeke folded the paper and placed it in his pocket and started pacing around the couch. “He’s the one who sent me to Manticore in the first place. That was good, right?”

“A man that old has his own agenda. I don’t like this, Zeke.” Jon cursed.

“You were looking for him before all of this though. Now we’ve found him, isn’t that a good thing?”

“I was trying to replace him so that I could track him and replace out why he went into hiding. Collaborating with him is another thing entirely.”

“And yet, he’s shown himself an ally so far, and he said he needs my help. If this helps take down Vladimir then I should help him, right?” Zeke said cupping his chin. “The meeting isn’t for a good.... Shit, its already noon. Eleven hours, the meeting is in eleven hours; that’s plenty of time to think this through.”

“Nothing I say is going to convince you not to go, is it?” Jon asked.

“Not at all, I want to hear what he has to say and what he wants. I’d better go get some rest then, it’s been a long night.”

“That’s being generous. Fine get some sleep. I’ll wake you up if I replace anything else of interest in these files.”

“How much more is there?”

“A lot.”

“Alright then... Goodnight, Jon.”

“Goodnight.” Jon grumbled and went back to his work. Zeke walked to his bedroom and then turned back when he was at the door.

“Jon... I’m sorry about earlier.” He said gently.

“We’re cool, guy. Just get some rest.” Jon said without looking up. Zeke nodded and then resumed his previous position next to Kira: one arm underneath her pillow and the other around her slim waist. Luckily, today was Kira’s day off and she wouldn’t have to work and thus Zeke would not have to wake her up at some point. For a while he simply watched her dream. Each breath she took heaved her body and pressed her closer to him. Her warmth quickly spread over him as he buried his face in her hair. Zeke closed his eyes and fell asleep to the scent of hickory.

When Zeke opened his eyes he discovered Kira was no longer lying next to him. Sitting up, Zeke surveyed the room around him looking for his fiancée but she wasn’t anywhere to be seen and their door was shut. They never shut their door. Zeke stood and walked to the door. The doorknob felt hot to the touch which was strange, normally he wasn’t bothered by anything short of an actual fire. When he opened the door he noticed that Jon was no longer on the couch working on his gadgets, though they were still strewn out on the coffee table in the same manner they had been when Zeke had decided to go to bed.

“I wonder where they went...” Zeke muttered to himself.

“Zeke…” A voice said from behind him. Zeke spun around to replace Kira standing directly behind him wearing a blood-soaked hospital gown. Zeke’s eyes widened. He opened his mouth but suddenly found he was unable to breathe. Grasping his throat he fell to his knees and croaked, pounding on his chest to try and dislodge anything that was stuck. Kira walked slowly towards him. Every step she took made a sloshing sound as the room started to fill with blood.

The living room twisted.

Zeke suddenly found himself falling. Zeke landed on a white linoleum floor with a loud thud; he tried to brace his fall with his forearms but the impact still knocked what little wind was in him right out. He brought himself to his feet and saw Dr. Vivisector, still mangled and beaten from his death at the hands of the Scarab, but surprisingly alive and well. The doctor stood over an operating table and laughed giddily like a child as he cut and slashed into the body of his patient.

“Stop! Get away from her!” Zeke tried to shout but it only came out as dry heaving. He tore his hands away and summoned all the will he could, but nothing happened. His powers were gone. Zeke looked down and saw that his skin was a light, peachy pigment. His tattoos still decorated his chest but his skin was completely normal. “No... no!”

Zeke lunged toward the table and reached out across the table, swiping at the doctor who laughed at Zeke’s blow. Zeke leapt over the table, no longer caring about the lack of breath in his body, and tackled the doctor to the floor. The doctor laughed carelessly as he was pummeled with savage intent. Zeke rained strikes down in a way he had never done before. Normally he attacked with precision, balance and technique but it all seemed to be lost on him. He didn’t care which part of his hand he struck with. He punched, swiped, gouged and even clawed at the doctor who, no matter how hard Zeke struck him, continued to laugh.

Zeke roared with madness; his hands hurt and he knew his blood-stained knuckles would be bruised in the morning. With a final effort to end the incessant laughter of the lunatic beneath him, Zeke gripped the doctor by his neck with his left hand and raised his right hand high above his head; he clenched his fists so tight his finger nails dug into his palm until they bled more.

“Going to kill me, boy?” The doctor said and then cackled some more. Zeke paused a moment. His hand was still poised and ready to strike but for now, he held off. “Ain’t got the stones, do ya? Can’t do what must be done; too much to lose, right? Hah! Heroes are all the same. You can never do what has to be done.”

“I’m better than you.” Zeke stammered through gritted teeth. “I don’t hurt people for pleasure.”

“Wha’do you suppose they’ll do to me? Claim me mentally ill and put me in a loony bin? Hah, four cushioned walls and a floor? Sounds like it’ll stain nicely when I gut one of the orderlies.”

“They’ll lock you away.”

“I’ll be free in a week. Good lawyers you know. The right money in the right pockets, always works. Haha!”

A cloud of smoke erupted from the doctor’s mouth and then he evaporated into thin air. Zeke stared at his hands, covered in the doctor’s blood from the barbaric assault he’d committed. Zeke felt tears in his eyes and then remembered the girl on the operating table. Zeke stood and turned to see his younger sister, Mary, lying on the table with her chest cavity wide open. Her eyes tightly shut with her mouth hanging slightly open to the side.

“No… No, no, please, no.” Zeke whispered as his vision became foggy with tears. “Mary, wake up. Wake up Mary.” His voice cracked as he sobbed and cradled her head. He touched his nose to hers and rested his forehead against the cold, clammy skin of his younger sister. He’d always looked out for her; always helped her and practically treated her like she was his daughter more than his younger sister. He was thirteen years older than her, after all.

“Zeke…” Mary whispered against his skin. Her eyes were still closed when Zeke raised his head, but her lips were moving and her lungs resumed pulsing with air.

“Mary!” He shouted, “It’s going to be okay. I’ll replace help, the Empath will come he’ll make it better. He’ll heal you.” But Mary shook her head and tears streamed from her eyes.

“No, you’re the bad man.” She whimpered. “Go away, you hurt me. You did this. There’s too much to lose. You did this! Zeke! Zeke! ZEKE!” She screamed.

“Zeke!”

Zeke’s eyes popped open and saw that Kira was hovering over him with a concerned expression across her face. Her emerald green eyes stared down at him with worry and fear. Her hand caressed his cheek and came away wet. Zeke had been sweating profusely in his sleep.

“Kira… you’re okay.” He whispered as he took her hand in his and buried his face in her shoulder.

“Of course I’m okay, I’ve been here all night. That was a helluva nightmare you were having.”

“A nightmare… that’s all it was.” He muttered; eyes still wide and unblinking, afraid that if he closed them again he would see Mary on the operating table screeching at him. Kira stroked his back and ran her fingers through his hair. Her fingers traced the lines of the muscles in his back as she hummed in his ear. “I’ll be okay… Just a dream… just a dream…” He repeated to himself as often as he could bear to hear the words. It had just been a really bad nightmare; Kira was fine and so was Mary. Everything was okay.

“Sviatyi Bozhe,” she sang, “Sviatyi Krepkyi, Sviatyi Bezsmertnyi, pomilui nas.” Kira repeated the verse three times and then simply hummed the melody into Zeke’s ear. It was a prayer sung in the church Zeke attended with his parents and his Aunt. He’d stopped going once he moved out, making all the usual excuses, but the hymn still calmed him any time his nerves had somehow gone to hell. Kira had also grown up in the church but, like him, had stopped going when she moved out. Zeke had been able to attend because the congregation liked his mother and father and tried to be polite to the boy who turned blue. When he was sent to his aunt’s house Zeke had to bundle himself up completely and sit in the back so that nobody would notice him. He would wait until the service was over and hide in the corner until the entire parish left, then walk up to the priest and receive communion by himself. He hadn’t been there in years.

How Kira knew when to sing, he never could never tell. How she even knew it was this particular prayer that calmed his shot nerves, was even further beyond him, but he didn’t care. It was something she did for him when he lost control; when he could no longer see any line or silver lining. Zeke lost all control at that moment and gripped her tightly while sobbing into her shoulder. She continued her singing; first she would hum, then she would sing the verse three times, and then she would hum some more.

“I don’t know what you dreamt, Zeke, but everything’s okay.” She whispered. For a moment Zeke said nothing. He tried to collect himself but his body had lost all control. Images from his dream flooded his mind mixed with the memory of Kira holding back the wall of fire that threatened to incinerate them. He’d put her in danger by allowing her to come with him, yet at the same time, had she not been there he would be dead and she and Mary would be left alone.

“Am I doing the right thing?” He asked with cracks in his voice. Kira was at an impasse. On one hand she wanted to be safe; she wanted HIM to be safe and to live out their lives until they were old, gray and forgetful. She wanted little blue children spitting fire at the drapes, being equal parts devious and adorable. Yet at the same time, she had also seen what was down in that laboratory and knew she’d almost lost her life to the doctor’s knife as well as to the raging fire that nearly consumed them. Zeke was also the kind of person who couldn’t stand still and would feel guilty if he knew he could help and didn’t. Kira didn’t like the idea of waging war on a multi-billion dollar industry as well as half the world. For one, it sounded cliché.

“We could get Brida and the kids and leave.” She said while still stroking his hair and back, “we could go somewhere remote like Bethel or Kodiak.”

“We could…” Zeke murmured. There was a long pause as the tears dried. The two held each other as closely as they were capable.

“But we won’t…” She finally said. She kissed his temple and looked him in the eyes. “There’s too much at stake. If we do this now we can make the world better for everyone, including Mary; right?” Zeke nodded. “There’s too much to lose.”

Intermission

Diane sits at her desk as the camera man counts down from five. She looks tired, agitated. She just got done yelling at her assistant for bringing her coffee with more cream than she likes it to have. The camera man points to her and quick as a flash her face switches to her journalist smile; bright and happy, full of joy.

“Welcome back folks, tonight we have a special guest with us: Arthur Wonkley, the man who shot the video of the Supers who blew up the bookstore just the other night, is on the phone with us now. Are you there, Arthur?” She says and looks off into the distance as if the man was far away.

“Yeah, I’m here.” Arthur says after a long pause. His voice is scratchy from the call’s poor quality.

“Can you tell us what you saw last night?” She asks, still smiling.

“Yeah, uh, I was just getting outta bed when I heard this huge explosion. So I, uh, you know, rushed to my window and saw a bunch of them running out. There was even this big bug thing carrying people out. So, I grab my phone and started taping everythin’ and then I see that blue guy with the red hair flyin’ out of the fire and he’s carrying two girls!”

“So, you’re saying you saw the supers taking hostages? I didn’t know the bookstore was open that early, this was around 7 A.M. correct?” Diane asked as she flips through some papers, pretending like they’re not just blank parchment.

“No, it wasn’t open that early, I’m not sure why there were people in there.”

“But they were hostages correct?”

“Could’a been, I guess.” The phone call ends and Diane turns to another camera.

“Shocking developments, folks; Super attacks are increasing all over the country ever since Vladimir Dracovic, CEO and founder of Draco Industries, came out with, what he called, a cure for Supers. Many Supers have fled their homes and marched straight to the doors of Draco Industries headquarters, demanding the cure while many more have started rallies.”

The video cuts to a street filled with Supers carrying signs saying “We don’t need a cure,” and “there’s nothing wrong with us!” Some have claws; some have extra eyes; some have scales or fur; others look the same as any other human but everyone who is watching knows they harbor some kind of lethal ability. The video cuts back to Diane who offers a fake shudder.

“Police and Nullifiers have been notified and are expecting the situation to turn violent soon.”