Caped (Book 1): The Burdens of Fate (7 page)

She cocked a smile, which quickly melted into a
series of small chuckles, and finally into loud unchecked laugher.

She stumbled her way back to her room, still
laughing, dug through her luggage and carelessly tossed me another gem the same
color as hers. "Here," she said, "now we should be on the same
page."

Only after we'd changed into the appropriate
attire for the Tokyo
club scene did she explain the talisman's purpose is to mask a person's actions
and their consequences from those able to perceive the future. The different
colors allow you to tune-in to the frequency, for lack of a better term. Clever
little trick, if not a bit deceptive. I asked her where it came from, to which
she replied with a nostalgic, "The same place as me."

Still, who was the unfortunate bastard we'd
soon be turning to a cold corpse, what had he done, and for what greater good
did ending his life serve to better humanity? Or had she dragged me here on
some self-serving quest for revenge?

Thank God it wasn't the latter.

His name was Alvin Turner, and happened to be
none other than the biggest threat to her plan. A man who embodied speed in its
purest form. The fastest man alive. Kind of intimidating, huh?

Actually, no.

You see, he didn't know of us. Didn't know our
names, our faces, nothing. We are devils in the shadows, preying on the
innocent. It felt wrong, and I felt weak for feeling that way. But sometimes
good men must die so that greater men can lead. It wasn't murder, it was a
sacrifice.

We found him at a bar near the eastern side of
the city, close to the bay. He was drunk and merry; flirting with the local
women as if he'd lived here his entire life.

She reached into her pocket and handed me a
small blue container with a screw-on top like some sort of make-up accessory.
Inside was a clear gel similar to hand sanitizer. She gave me a cautious
warning not to touch or smell it and then tossed me a latex glove. Kinda
backwards, but whatever. My instructions were simple enough, wipe the liquid
onto his skin. She happily retreated back into the intoxicating chaotic energy
and flashing lights of the club, leaving me alone in a strange city, around
people I couldn't understand, waiting to kill a stranger.

It was another twenty or so minutes before I
received a text on my phone, "He's coming outside, do it now."

A mass of people, all unaware and pleasantly
drunk exited. Loud, chatting, and dancing along as they carried the rhythm of
the club with them out into the street. I staggered my way through, playing the
slightly inebriated tourist; easing my way through one group of people, then
another.

And there he was, wholly engulfed in the seductive
dips and twirls of a sexy young lady in stunning little blue sequence dress, a
firm grip on her hips, swaying them side to side. They were in their own little
world, a fact that made it easier for me to shove my way towards the curb,
screaming for a taxi. Once close enough, I perfectly executed one of those
klutzy drunken falls we've all seen a million times, catching myself with a
firm grip on his shoulder and a quick swipe of the gel on his arm as I let go,
quickly excusing myself.

The drug worked quickly. By the time he
realized he was in danger it was already too late. Immediately sluggish and
dazed, he tried to react, but his disorientation just caused him to slam into
the ground, helplessly fighting against gravity and his fading consciousness.
Another few seconds and he was motionless on the pavement. The crowd struggled
to grasp exactly what was happening as his short and shallow breaths grew
increasingly more faint.

I pitied him, he'd done nothing to anyone, but
it needed to be done. A fact I'll hopefully come to accept once I'm done
struggling with this unshakable remorse.

The ambulance was called, showing up just as a
small group managed to lug him away from the street and sit him upright against
the building. I walked back in to tell Nena that he'd die on the way to the
hospital, and she responded by playfully questioning my confidence. So I
followed the body for another twelve hours into the future, nothing changed.

"And Los
Angeles?" she asked. Again, I checked. Nearly an
hour after the event and the cities a mess of smoke and fire. Even later, and
the city is still a mess of broken buildings, a fact that certainly didn't make
me feel better about what I'd done.

She slid her arm around the back of my waist,
took another sip from whatever cherry red drink she was carry around, and
rested her head on my shoulder. "It was for the best," she said, in a
soft reassuring voice. Calling it a vile action "only great men can
understand the benefit of."

I guess I fall short of said greatness, because
although I understood the nature of sacrifices, a harsh weight seems to hang on
my soul. Her confidence makes it comforting, but not nearly enough.

Michael
Serna
-

There once was a time when I could pick up this
book and write entire pages on things that had nothing to do with defying
gravity or levitating furniture, a time where I'd waste a pens worth of ink
trying to describe just how deeply in love I'd fallen, and joke that if anyone
was lucky enough to read those paged I'd burn the world itself to ashes to keep
people from knowing. I was never meant to be the romantic type, it just wasn't
meant to be.

This book has always served as both a temporary
and permanent vault for my secrets, ranging from the personal thoughts on those
closest to me to my most tragic failings. There is no way anyone could have
foreseen the events that have led us here, and we're all doing our best to
cope.

Regarding the letter, text, and resulting
argument I will only say that it was a natural response from a concerned lover.
And luckily, given recent events, she wasn't entirely surprised when I
explained my abilities.

I have no idea as to what this Edward Otep guy
is referring to and only have the fact that he used my full name as evidence it
reached its intended destination.

As for what actions this stranger wants me to
take, the "hero" route. Considering my abilities, it wouldn't be that
far of a stretch, however, until that moment I'd never given more than a
passing thought to such an extreme approach. Too risky, but if it's gotta be
done, no need to half-ass it, right?

The days of ordinary trouble may very well be
behind me or, more likely, just compounded together. And if so, those days will
be greatly missed. But you know me, I'm an adventurer. I love the thrill of the
chase and give little thought to what I'll do once I've caught it.

If you ask me, this stands to be the greatest
time of my life, unrivaled by anything that has come before. I've got a smile
on my face and my woman by my side, what more can a man ask for?

Wait, let me answer that for you: Nothing.

Kaylie
Horn -

Hey girl, it's night time and everyone is
already knocked out so don't be surprised if I do the same and I apologize in
advance if I drool on you like I did a couple weeks ago, kay? Lolz!

I didn't think I'd be this tired, wanna tag
along tomorrow so I can write things down? I'm sure I'll have lots of time to
do that on... DUN DUN DUN... THE BEACH! And it's just me and mom so we can
totally drool over all the gorgeous men!

...And I'd surely get some drool on you SO that
means I can't take you. Lol. Just kidding, you're not coming because mom's far
too nosy, but I'll make sure to give you the full synopsis when we get home. At
least I'm enjoying myself, who would have thought? Maybe my family isn't as
dull as I first thought.

Okay I totally just dozed off right there...
that's my cue, goodnight!

Chapter
Three

The City's a Ruin

–
Friday March 19th
–

Edward
Otep
-

I'm alive! Good lord, after risking life, limb,
and my freedom, I am alive! I can't believe I actually pulled it off.

One of the most frustrating facts about this
whole debacle is there was no simple logic to it. It didn't have a singular
effect on everyone. Some people formed roaming packs and ran through the
streets like wild dogs, others violently protected each other with extreme
paranoia; some were very specific within their rage, while others lashed out at
everything in sight.

In some cases people switched quickly and
without warning from one mentality to another. It was a no-win situation and it
was my call to use this to pull us together.

Tragedy is a very unique bonding mechanism that
can just as easily backfire. So, am I a hero now, or just another Good
Samaritan? I'd like to believe that anyone in my position and with my ability
would do the same, but I doubt it. It's too much work, too much effort, for
absolutely no recognition. I've never been one for the spotlight, just leave me
to my design work and html script and I'll be happy.

So, what within me stopped me from throwing
that tablet into the trash and never looking back, from leaving Laurie alone so
that when he hit the concrete the only comfort he had to look forward to was a
cold and dirty cell?

Are we all heroes, and if we are what makes us
so? Maybe it's the fact that we showed up at all, there were plenty of others
who didn't, because they either didn't know to, or care to. I can try to
justify it as saving the world, but the truth of that is such a hard pill to
swallow that it rarely crosses my mind. I've got to focus on the small
victories, if this can even be considered one.

This isn't my story, I'm just unlucky enough to
know to tell it. Pretty much the shit-end of the stick if you ask me, but you
didn't and you can't, so I hope you're at least enjoying the ride so far.

Time is like a TiVo to me. I can move forward
and sideways, up until my current location, but once it's gone it's gone. This
means any mistakes I make and any shortcomings I have must be dealt with in the
same manner as everyone else. Constantly wondering just where the hell I went
wrong, and unfortunately, such is the case with L.A.

From the start I knew L.A. was unpreventable. People were going to
die, not even Alvin
could prevent that. There were plenty of mistakes yesterday, too numerous to
count, but it starts with me. Where did I go wrong?

Laurie and I met just after seven o'clock
outside some nondescript diner on the edge of town, I didn't even bother to
remember the name. I gave him the address and trust he'd find his way. It was
during breakfast, with him midway through chugging his cup of coffee, that I
told him that the plan I'd been operating under was near irrelevant. He was
visibly upset.

Yet our cause wasn't lost, a fact I continually
reassured him of. I spoke, he listened. Unlike my previous plan, Laurie entered
the city alone and unaided, that and he was going to have to get his hands a
little dirty, and by "a little dirty" I meant damn near filthy. But
first we had to wait.

For those trapped within the city limits there
would be no warning, they could blame Alvin
for that, among other things. That alone could have saved countless lives.

Me and Laurie counted down the time, clarifying
the details of the newly formed procedures and what type of obstacles he should
expect.

I paid for our breakfast just before the clock
struck nine, making sure to leave a generous tip because it was sure to be a
rough day. I went outside to make a couple phone calls; one to Carter, and a
futile one to Alvin who was unreachable
somewhere in northern Japan.

At nine-fourteen it flooded through them all
like a hot wall of air on an already warmer than average spring day. A feeling
of overwhelming rage surged through every living creature in the downtown area.
From squirrels and pigeons, to cats and dogs; growling, hissing, clawing,
scratching, biting, and pecking. Senseless and unbridled.

At the protest site outside the county
courthouse a young lady loses control of her power for the first time. Massive
arcs of electrical energy tear across the city streets and through the
buildings just as easily as it does human flash, which it leaves littered
across the area. Dozens are killed within seconds, but at least it's quick.
Dozens more continue on with their incomplete or broken bodies, charred flesh
and blood hang off bodies and lay scattered across the ground. They grab
anything, including the now useless portion of themselves, and throw them about
in undirected tantrums until they either pass out or succumb to their injuries.

Police on the scene fire mercilessly into both
crowds and on themselves, like they're criminals facing the firing squad;
except there is no gracious pause, entire clips of shells dance on the ground
until there's no one left to pull a trigger. The E.C.'s begin to fight amongst
themselves but, with very few actually possessing a formidable offensive
ability, it too devolves into a godless massacre.

Nine sixteen. One minute after the surge of
rage subsides, and the emotions still linger.

Phase one goes into effect and the power goes
out in all of Orange
County and the
surrounding areas.

Laurie and I stood out in the parking lot. I
could see the frustration on the faces of the people inside, expecting the
lights to kick back on any moment, while Laurie just stared anxiously towards
the city. I took the final drag of cigarette and smothered it beneath my foot,
an old habit I've recently picked back up.

I told him the time had come, to which he gave
a shallow grunt and slight nod of affirmation followed by a half-joking remark
about how cigarettes would be the death of me. I assured him otherwise.

"Will I be seeing you later?" he
asked, a little nervous.

I responded with confident assurance.

"Don't lie to me."

And I prayed to God I wasn't.

He took a few quick steps forward and leaped
into the sky, there was a slight thud as he took off and a few people inside
turned to look; I gave them an emotionless glance and then proceeded to wait by
a nearby car.

At nine twenty-one Laurie encountered what was
left of enraged police and a crowd of protesters in front of the courtyard.
Many were dead, and those that weren't could only barely claim such. People
were trickling out from the buildings and into the streets.

A second wave of cops had just begun assaulting
the area when Laurie dropped in, giving their startled rage a single point on
which to focus. The police opened fire and people continued to throw bricks,
rubble, and anything else they could fit in their bloodied hands. Nothing he
couldn't handle, expect perhaps the feeling of utter hatred.

"Leave! Run!" he exclaimed; the
futile shouting of a novice. But yesterday we were all amateurs, and they
weren't the reason he was there. He was there for their protection, awaiting
the arrival of a terrifyingly unnatural entity.

An uncanny creature with thick black skin and
red animalistic markings that looked so flawless it were as if they'd been
painted on, massive wings that draped over his shoulders and covered his
entire, unrealistically toned, athletic frame like a thick shroud; and despite
its complete lack of a mouth it still managed a ghostly wail. Now was the time
for silent prayers and kissing the cross, an offensively misleading act, it was
very much human. A fact as much comforting as it is terrifying.

Laurie didn't have time to react. It struck
first, hard.

Laurie struck back harder.

By nine-thirty Michael had heard the news over
breakfast...

Michael
Serna
-

Holy mother of the dear Lord Jesus Christ of
Later Day

Saints!! Shit does not, I repeat, does not get
any more fucking crazy than that! Period. I barely know where to begin, L.A., Seattle?
...yeah, fucking Seattle.
I honestly forgot Seattle was a city until I
ended up in fucking Seattle.
Who's impressed by a "Space Needle" that sits on the fuckin' ground?
The last 24 hours have been bat-shit crazy. So let's start with L.A., stick with me...

Total. Media. Saturation. Begins at a quarter
past nine; Facebook, Twitter, CNN, FOX, MSNBC, etc. All because nothing was
going in or coming out of Los Angeles,
it had gone dark and no one knew why. It was as if had been erased from the map
and the only sliver of information pointed to an incident at one of the E.C.
right protests.

Iris and I watched from the couch as we
finished a rather late breakfast; and with that unmistakable look of concern on
her face, it was all too obvious what she was thinking. The letter was still
fresh in our minds, even if the last thing we expected was for something to
come of it.

"Be a hero," it said, and I knew I could,
but just what was he expecting of me? Oh boy was I going to find out...
Edward
Otep (Cont.)
-

...Michael’s fiancé wasn't too thrilled by his
decision to come or with the ski-mask he'd decided to wear.

I'm still envious of his ability to fly.

I was just smothering a second cigarette into
the dirt when I spotted Michael overhead. I waved him down and formally
introduced myself for the first time.

He wanted more answers than I had time to give.
It was time for me to speak and him to listen. He hadn't gotten to know me like
Laurie had and I was anything but his superior, however, I had a mission for
him and he needed to trust me.

I knew he might have a problem with gender
politics, after all it's not every day a random stranger asks you to knock out
a seventeen year old girl, but as the old adage goes, "It's easier said
than done."

Her name was Kaylie Horn and can move the earth
itself. He would find her on the beach in a rage filled trance.

"What do we do about the others?" he
asked. "How do we knock them out?"

A good question. I told him not to worry, that
"I know a guy."

"Is he psychic?" he asked.

I told him no, "just fast."

The ground jolted and I pressed myself against
a car for leverage.

"Is that my cue?"

His cue was a minute ago but I didn't push the
subject, just nodded.

He chuckled, "Forgive me, I'm nervous.
Will I be seeing you later?"

I smiled at the coincidence and gave him the
same confident affirmation I gave Laurie.

There was another jolt that knocked me to the
ground but by that point he was gone.

I could see the pillars of smoke rising from
the city and the rapidly expanding fires, mostly the cause of one man making
devastatingly effective use of his ability. In another fifteen minutes he'd be gunned
down along with three others in front of a crumbling Millennium Biltmore Hotel,
or at least what remained of the structure, lost beneath the unrelenting flames
and thick smoke.

Moments after their death, Laurie, firmly in
the grip of the winged creature, would come crashing through the main tower of
the Biltmore Hotel, and tumble into one of the lower levels of the The Gas
Company Tower; a building already littered with flames that came crawling out a
variety of windows on multiple floors. The hotel's tower ripped and twisted off
of its already weakened frame and went crashing into the building adjacent to
it, where Laurie and the creature wrestled around without restraint, too
preoccupied to have any regard for their surroundings or concern with the
collision of the buildings. They exchanged one thunderous strike after another
until, Laurie, landing a significant blow on the beast, managed to send him
barreling up through multiple floors, out of the building, and tumbling across
the burning Los Angeles skyline before crashing
into the US Bank Tower.

Laurie
Stahl
-

I know this is going to come off as cocky and
arrogant but it must be said; I'm one tough motherfucker. I can't even believe
all the damage me and that thing did in that poor city, but whatever that thing
was it surely wasn't a challenge. His hits came wild and fast but felt more
like love taps. I should have killed it, but I just couldn't bring myself to do
that to an innocent man.

Through the US Bank Tower, the AON Center,
Macy's Plaza, and down into the busy streets; pulling, scratching, and punching
each other as the masses gnarled and hissed in anger and fear. Assaulting each
other (and eventually us) with their cracked and broken bottles, burning trash,
bloodied fists, and busted boots.

I did my best to focus his anger, his hands,
and the massive wings he flailed about in desperation, on me and off everyone
else. Something I failed at one too many times. He was a wild and slippery
little devil, one moment he'd be focused on me and the next he'd be bolting off
in some random direction, and every time I grabbed him he would find a way to
squirm free. It took him seconds to kill a man, so every time my hands weren't
on him it was just a matter of time.