The Rise of Dark Flame

by Damien Benoit-Ledoux

  Dad shrugged. “I’m really happy for both of you. Keegan you’re a wonderful young man. You came into our son’s life at the right time. Thank you.”

  After exchanging hugs, Daddio set about making root beer floats. Quinn led Keegan to one of the couches in the living room where they cuddled and kissed again until his dads entered with the floats. Then, they watched the latest episode of Drag Race together.

  12 | His Eyes Opened unto Darkness

  Blake

  “Shit, it’s hot in here,” a voice said.

  “Zip it,” a second, gruff voice ordered.

  The titanium restraints…this is no different from the titanium chamber I superheated in Rangeley. I just have to get over…what did Dr. Madison say, three thousand degrees? I might lose my tights, though…

  Dark Flame pulled all the mental focus he could muster and ignited his body.

  “What the hell?” the gruff voice exclaimed.

  He felt the heat rapidly building around him. The two men in the back with him screamed bloody murder and the vehicle came to an abrupt halt.

  Hotter!

  A moment later, the blindfold incinerated and Dark Flame got his first look at the stainless steel interior that held him prisoner. He was chained down to some kind of fabric-covered gurney. He intensified his resolve and anything non-metal, including the ball-gag in his mouth, the gurney cushion, and the soldiers disintegrated or melted. He focused and superheated his arms, hands, and wrists, desperate to free himself.

  “Come on!” he shouted.

  Go hotter, go faster.

  Then, he yelled and pulled against the restraints as power surged through his body. His eyes widened with surprise when he tipped over the edge of fury and anger, resulting in a massive, uncontrolled explosion that melted through the metal truck and reduced his restraints to pools of molten metal.

  He willed himself up from the wrecked gurney and hovered over the destroyed truck, tilting his head from side to side and cracking his neck. He stretched his arms and legs as the blood returned to his numb extremities. Looking around, he got his bearings and saw the truck had barely made it away from the docks. The driver and another guard’s bodies lay still on the ground, burned to a crisp from the superheated explosion. He looked down at his legs and saw his sneakers and purple tights had mostly burned away except for a somewhat modest covering over his crotch and buttocks that made it look like he was wearing torn boxer briefs

  He shrugged and turned around, hearing gunfire on the main deck of the Cerulean.

  The team, they’re in trouble…and Gary…

  Gary is dead, he reminded himself sternly.

  Ablaze with purple and orange flame, he flew to the cargo ship and assessed the situation from the air. He spotted Samuel and flew toward him. When he landed, he turned down the heat and squatted next to the man. Bullets started pinching at his torso, but he didn’t care.

  “About fucking time!” Samuel screamed.

  “Sorry,” Dark Flame answered. “They kidnapped me, but I escaped.”

  “What did they use, kryptonite? We’re still pinned down.”

  “How do I know who’s who?”

  “White caps, white caps! We’re all wearing white caps!”

  “Thank you.”

  “Hey, where the hell are your pants?” Samuel asked, dumbfounded.

  Dark Flame chuckled and stood up. “Like I said, they kidnapped me and I escaped.”

  Then, he looked at the closest non-white-capped soldier and reached for him with his mind, pulling the unsuspecting man across the deck. He spun the man around so they would be face to face and ripped the rifle from his hands.

  “Holy shit!” the man screeched, staring into Dark Flame’s fiery orange eyes.

  Dark Flame studied the man’s face and checked his uniform. “Nope, I don’t know you.” Then, he tossed the man overboard, throwing him across the deck and into the Piscataqua River.

  Dark Flame checked the cargo; it looked secure, but he couldn’t really tell. He dragged two more enemy guards across the deck. One of them had similar armor to that of his team.

  “Why are you wearing The Order’s armor?” he asked.

  The man’s jaw tightened, an indication that he wouldn’t talk.

  “Fine, have it your way.” He nonchalantly threw the other man overboard and began to squeeze the surviving man’s body with his mind. “Tell me what I want to know!”

  The man struggled and gasped with pain. Two bones snapped and he cried out in agony.

  “Why are you wearing The Order’s armor?” Dark Flame shouted.

  The man resisted and Dark Flame squeezed him harder; two more bones cracked.

  “Whatever, loser,” Dark Flame said. Then he threw the man back, slamming him against the bridge castle.

  A rapid succession of pinches strafed across Dark Flame’s chest and he reached out for the gunman and pulled him close. The man shrieked when the rifle was pulled out of his hands. “I asked your friend a question; let’s see if you fare better with an answer. Why are you wearing the body armor of The Order?”

  “Are you that stupid?” the man brazenly asked.

  Dark Flame paused, surprised at the response. “Tell me why!”

  “We are The Order, you idiot!”

  “What?” Dark Flame asked, stunned. He squeezed the man a bit. “Don’t toy with me.”

  “We work for The Order,” the man insisted.

  Dark Flame pulled him closer until their faces were inches apart. “You’re trying to tell me The Order has critical supplies shipped in, destroys them, then has another shipment come in and tries to capture or destroy those supplies as well and tries to kidnap me as a bonus? That makes no sense. You’re insane.”

  Three bullets struck the man and his body went limp. Dark Flame sighed and dropped him to the deck. Two enemy soldiers charged at him, wildly firing their rifles at him. Dark Flame blasted them with fire and they fell to the deck, severely burned.

  It took several minutes to clear the rest of the enemy guards from the deck, but when he had finished and confirmed the remaining men were the original set he left Seavey Island with, he turned his attention to the land beyond the Schiller Station buildings and watched for movement.

  In the distance, tires screeched and an engine roared as a vehicle sped away from Schiller Station.

  Oh no you don’t.

  Glowing orange, he flew over the buildings and followed the vehicle as it accelerated toward the main roads. The passenger leaned out of the window and Blake watched the muzzle of his gun flash several times in the darkness as the man fired at him.

  Dark Flame deflected the bullets and flew down to the vehicle. It was a black, Secret Service type SUV, but the make and model was consistent with what he had seen The Order use.

  That’s weird.

  Feeling ambitious, he reached out with his mind and lifted the truck off the road. The engine roared as the driver floored the gas pedal several times, but stopped when he realized the truck was flying. The two guards flung their doors open and jumped, rolling and tumbling as their bodies fought the inertia of their high-speed escape.

  Dark Flame rolled the truck to its side and dropped it, the metal screeching and sparking against the asphalt until it stopped. Then, he pulled the the two guards up from the ground. He ascended, carrying them through the air with his mind. He swung around and flew back to the Cerulean. One of them shouted something and then fired a handgun. Dark Flame spun around and grabbed the handgun as the man put the business end against his head. He ripped it out of the man’s hand and crushed it. Realizing the other guard was dead, he pulled the surviving guard closer to him and dropped the dead man.

  “I need you alive,” he said, checking him for other weapons. He pulled a knife from the man’s belt and slammed it into the ground beneath them.

  “Fuck you, you monster!” The man snarled, then spat at Dark Flame’s face.

  Dark Flame brought his hand up and made a fist. The man cri
ed out in agony when his left arm broke in several places. Dark Flame smirked and continued his flight to the ship.

  He spotted Samuel and landed near him, letting the runaway guard’s body fall to the deck. The man grunted when he hit the metal deck.

  “What happened to him?” Samuel asked. Several other members of their team approached and aimed their weapons at the prisoner.

  Dark Flame shrugged. “He spat in my face, so I broke his arm.

  “Really?” Samuel asked, regarding Dark Flame with incredulous amusement.

  “We need to get him over to Radoslav.” Dark Flame glanced over at Gary’s body. Someone had placed a cloth over his face. The uniform he wore looked similar to the one his prisoner wore. “Samuel, don’t you think it’s a little strange these guys have almost identical uniforms?”

  Samuel cocked his head to the side with curiosity then looked at the man’s uniform.

  “Uh, it’s tactical gear. It all looks the same after a while.”

  “Look closer,” Dark Flame said igniting his hand to provide more light. The prisoner winced and pulled his head back in fear. “It has the same pockets and clips. I bet it’s the same brand or make as your armor.”

  Then, Dark Flame squatted next to the terrified prisoner, his hand burning hot. “I asked some of your friends, but they wouldn’t tell me what I wanted to know. Things will be better if you cooperate.”

  The man only whimpered.

  “Why are you wearing The Order’s tactical gear?

  The man shook his head. “They’ll kill me,”

  “No, I’ll kill you. Who do you work for?”

  “Fuck you, Dark Flame, you stupid kid.”

  Samuel pressed his rifle muzzle into the man’s broken arm and the prisoner cried out in pain.

  Dark Flame leaned closer. “You can talk to me or you can talk to my friend Radoslav.”

  The man winced at the name.

  I’ve got you now.

  “So, you know who Radoslav is and what he can do. That tells me you probably work for The Order—which makes no sense to me at the moment.”

  The prisoner sighed, resigned to his situation. “I’ll talk, just don’t send me to him.”

  “Maybe. Last chance. Who do you work for?

  “We work directly for the Archimandrion Council of The Order. The Archimandrion wants to stop Victor and regain control of Project Genesis II because of the little stunt he pulled in Rangeley with you and your super friend.”

  Stop Victor? Why?

  “Why would The Order what to destroy their own equipment a second time?” Samuel asked.

  The prisoner shook his head. “The cargo on the Cerulean is bogus. Victor already had parts shipped to Rangeley. This was a diversion to keep you busy or train you.”

  Dark Flame looked at Samuel with confusion. “Why the hell would Victor send us on a wild goose chase if he knew the cargo was fake?”

  Samuel shrugged. “This is news to me.” Then, he pointed at two guards. “You two, check the cargo. Open a few crates and determine what’s inside them.”

  Dark Flame looked back at their prisoner. “Are you part of the team that destroyed the first shipment?”

  “You mean am I a traitor to The Order? Absolutely not. As far as I know, whoever destroyed the first shipment had nothing to do with this mission.”

  “Sir, these crates are full of bricks,” one of the guards called out. The men had opened several crates and confirmed their prisoner’s story.

  “What’s your name?” Dark Flame asked the prisoner.

  “Agent Bob.”

  Dark Flame chuckled. “Agent Bob? Are you joking?”

  Bob shrugged and shook his head. “The name’s Bob.”

  “Well, Agent Bob, you just won your life back,” Dark Flame said. Then, to Samuel, he added, “You got this right? I’m going to see Victor.”

  “Don’t kill him,” Samuel cautioned.

  Dark Flame smirked, then took off into the night.

  ❖

  “Where’s Victor?” Dark Flame asked, striding confidently into the administrative office’s reception area, wearing only the modest layer of purple super-suit that hadn’t burned away in his escape explosion. A twenty-something man he didn’t recognized sat at the desk, typing away at his computer.

  “He’s not usually here this late. Did you want to leave him a message?” the receptionist asked, then glanced up at Dark Flame. “Hey, where are your clothes?”

  “Funny you should ask.” He ignited his eyes and stared at him. The young man’s eyes widened with fear and awe.

  “Now, about Victor, you’re telling me the truth, right? I hate it when people lie to me.”

  The receptionist nodded emphatically. “Y-yes.”

  Dark Flame powered down his eyes. “Thank you. I’ll catch him tomorrow.”

  “He won’t be here tomorrow,” the receptionist volunteered. Then, his face conveyed immediate regret.

  “You’re new here, aren’t you?” Dark Flame asked.

  “Yes.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Alex.”

  “I like you Alex. Thanks for the intel. Have a nice night.”

  Dark Flame walked through the facility until he reached the locker room. He stripped the burnt material away from his waist and made his way to the showers.

  Blake relaxed his body under the hot stream of water, letting its heat seep in and soothe his sore muscles. Being knocked to the ground in an explosion and hog-tied in a truck took its toll on his muscles, despite his healing ability.

  Welcoming a much-needed distraction, his hand moved back and forth in front of him as he surrendered to the strong sexual urges and pleasurable feelings he had pushed off for days. A minute later, his body tensed with toe-curling delight. Blake inhaled sharply, then grunted as the bliss of the moment overcame his mind and body. He felt power surge behind his eyes as the white shower stall took on an orange hue. Around him, lights flickered wildly in the locker room.

  He leaned against the wall, closed his eyes, and let his mind wander over the evening’s events and Agent Bob’s confession.

  Why the heck does The Order work against itself? Why do they try to sabotage its future development? What is Victor doing? Is he in line with the Archimandrion or has he gone rogue? Wouldn’t he be arrested or whatever they do? More importantly, where do my loyalties lie…with him, the Archimandrion, or myself? Better yet, why did the Archimandrion suddenly want to capture me? Are they acting on old orders from Mother Superior, their own desires, or someone else’s?

  He sighed.

  Whatever’s going on, there’s in-fighting in the organization. Victor Kraze is a prolific liar, and that gives me pause to do my own thing. His missions are crap, and the flurry of lies that are popping up around him are too much to make sense of.

  His mind wandered back to the Boston atrocity and the faces of the workers on the floor. He felt anger rise in his veins when he heard them screaming in his mind. He gasped, blinking his eyes in the bright lights of the locker room. Then, he took a deep breath, sighed, and reached for the soap.

  Oh, I should check the reactor core!

  The thought startled Blake and he remembered the weird thunderstorms from a few nights ago that made him curious as to what Victor was up to. If he’s up to something, that’s how I’ll find out.

  He finished showering and dressed, pulled on his freshly dry-cleaned black motorcycle jacket, and made his way through the facility past the guard checkpoints. They nodded at him, but didn’t try to stop him.

  They’ve learned.

  He walked into the reactor core and looked around. The chamber hummed and pulsed with an intense amount of orgone energy. He watched as it flowed through the eight conduits down to the storage mechanisms below that transferred it to batteries on the west side of the facility. He could feel the orgone around him, enticing his senses like light to a bug at night. Nothing seemed out of place and he didn’t see any unusual equipment.

/>   He frowned and made his way up to the control room. The two on-duty technicians stared at him as he entered, but they didn’t object to his presence. Stopping at one of the monitoring panels, he saw the chamber was actively collecting orgone from the atmosphere and the storage cells were approaching capacity.

  “What’s Victor doing with all this energy?” Blake asked.

  The closest technician looked at him and shrugged. “He told us to stockpile as much as we could, so we are. We don’t ask the Hegumen questions.”

  Right, blind loyalty and all that jazz.

  “Thanks,” Blake answered. He took one last look at the readouts and decided to head home. When he was outside, he looked for his car but remembered it was still in the garage at his condo because he had decided to fly to the facility instead.

  He took off, a streak of orange light trailing behind him in the night. As he flew upriver, he found himself flying past Badger Island and his condo, mysteriously drawn toward his parents’ house in Atlantic Heights. He became depressed and saddened as he approached his old home, but when he saw and heard commotion outside the house with his super senses, he turned himself invisible and landed on the roof. He sat on the roof’s peak and pulled his feet close to his buttocks and folded his arms around his knees, curiously watching the scene below unfold.

  Ralph swore at two men who hauled him from their car and up the short walkway, protesting that he was fine even though he could barely stand on his own two feet.

  “Come on, Ralph, we’ll just get you inside. Where’s your kid? He can take over.”

  “Blake!” Ralph shouted, startling him. He pulled his knees in tighter and squeezed them with his arms. From his perch on the roof, it was easy to watch the commotion. The screen door squeaked open below him and his mother stepped outside, huddled in an oversized sweater.

  “Oh, no, Ralph, what did you do?”

  “Nothing,” he slurred.

  “He didn’t do anything wrong, Stella, he’s just had a bit more than usual to drink.”

  “Oh Ralph, you’re so funny sometimes.”

  The two men exchanged bewildered looks. “Is your kid here to help us? He’s having a hard time standing,” one of the men asked.