Julie’s eyes light up. “You set her up. She’ll work as her own propaganda in our favor. It may lead to more augments joining us.”
“Indeed.”
The Templars smile at the prospect and hope that Abel is correct in his gamble.
Mother sits in her elegant robes with a surprised and terrified Claire, who wears her new engagement ring. Claire sees several dozen armed Malignant special forces guards standing among what little staff she has. The cameras roll, and Claire begins her show.
“Hello, everyone, and welcome to The Intrepid Reporter. This is another special edition of our show, and my guest surprises even me. She’s the supreme leader of the alien race, the Malignant, and she wants to make a statement to the planet. So, make sure to pass it along to your friends who don’t watch.”
Claire nervously laughs. Mother pushes her to the side and takes the center of the camera shot.
“To my Malignant children. I apologize for not coming to you sooner, but your existence was not known to me until recently. You were never meant to live on this planet, and I apologize for the misery that this primitive existence forced on you. Finally, it is your chance to receive your mother’s love. You must forget the ISH. They will all perish because they were never meant to be. This planet will return to its destined food chain and you, my children, will come home with me. Do not allow your fondness for your pets to cloud your judgment on this issue. My word is final. You will do my bidding, or you will perish along with the ISH. I am certain you will do the right thing.”
Mother stands without ceremony and leaves the studio with her honor guard. Claire feels emotionally gutted from her proximity to this terrifying woman.
“I’m a lot of things, my Driblets, but a pussy is not one of them. So, I’m gonna use what time I have left to call out Mommy Dearest and her little club. I’ve said my fair share about the auggies, but understand this, Driblets; if there’s one thing worse than an auggie, it’s an actual alien. We must resist at every opportunity and tell this bitch that we have ISH pride. For the auggies out there, this is your chance to prove a bastard like me wrong and to join the Templars. Resist!” Papa Nutmare screams into his microphone.
“I haven’t been here for a while,” Smith admits as he stares at Karen and Carlos’ home. “Do you think he’ll be happy to see me?”
“Sure, baby, sure. Let’s take him out, then you can go back to your team.”
“Okay,” Smith says.
Sally rings the doorbell. Mitch, Smith, and Maria wait for him to answer the door. Nobody responds.
“He said he was going to be home tonight, right?” Maria asks.
“That’s what he told me,” Sally answers coldly to Maria.
The two women are not on speaking terms, and Smith feels awkward. Smith tries the door and finds that it’s unlocked. The four people enter the home.
“Hey, Carlos, you in here?” Smith shouts.
He doesn’t get a response.
“We’re coming in!” Smith yells. “Don’t shoot!”
The four file into the entryway. The signs of a struggle near the door are evident by the small holes in the dry wall.
“I don’t like this,” Mitch expresses the dread they all feel.
The quartet spread throughout the house and search for Carlos. Mitch’s scream from the bedroom draws the other three to him. They all find what Smith feared. Carlos hangs from the ceiling by his belt in his formal police uniform. His face is purple, and he’s dead. Mitch and Sally cover their eyes while Smith and Maria stare with great sadness.
“Why?” Smith cries.
“Not again!” Maria screams.
She jumps onto the bed, then from the bed to Carlos’ body. She uses her weight to yank him from the ceiling, and they both tumble to the floor.
“You selfish bastard!” Maria screams.
She breaks down and cries next to him. She pulls a note from his pocket. It simply reads, Don’t worry about me. I’m with Karen again so we can be husband and wife.
Smith holds the note and lets it drop to the floor. He grabs Mitch in a hug and shields him from the view of yet another dead body.
Mr. Polite and Melanie walk through his neighborhood. Melanie knows her captor is unconcerned by the events of the world. He vowed to spend his last moments with her. The declaration cemented her resolve to try and escape despite his power.
In front of the couple is a man walking his dog. The dog stops to poop on the yard of a random homeowner. She knows Mr. Polite is watching intently to see if the man does the proper thing and remove his pet’s waste. As Melanie fears, the man ignores his polite duty. On top of that, he decides to throw the butt of the cigarette he just finished onto the ground as well and continues his walk.
“It’s not that big a deal,” Melanie pleads.
“It is. Now more than ever these people need to learn how to live as proper human beings.”
“Just scare him. I beg you.”
Mr. Polite looks at Melanie.
“For you, my love, I’ll only scare him. He’ll survive our encounter.”
“Thank you.”
“Excuse me, sir!” Mr. Polite shouts.
The man initially ignores him.
“Sir! A moment please!”
The dog walker finally turns around.
“What the hell do you want?”
“Sir, do you have to be so vulgar? I just wanted to inform you that it’s your responsibility to remove your pet’s waste. He should also be on a leash.”
“Who the hell are you to tell me what to do?”
“Sir, you’re being rude. You’ll bring this on yourself.”
The man laughs. “So, you’re tall. Who the hell cares? I’ll stomp you if you bother me again.”
Mr. Polite turns to Melanie and shrugs. “I tried my best.”
“Hey, honey, why don’t you come home with me tonight and have fun for once?” the man addresses Melanie.
“Sir, you also forgot your cigarette.”
Mr. Polite places a force shield around it and levitates it toward the man’s face. He holds the man in place and uses the still lit cigarette to burn the corneas in both eyes. The man shrieks from the pain, but he can’t move his arms to rub relief into them. His dog barks, but Mr. Polite holds the black Labrador in place as well. He muzzles it with the same invisible force that he controls others with.
“You also forgot your feces.”
Mr. Polite forces the man’s mouth open and smashes the dog droppings deep into his throat. The man gags and chokes.
“You promised!” Melanie screams.
“And he changed my mind.”
Melanie tries to run, but finds that she, too, is held in place. She briefly considers making Mr. Polite sick, but she’s terrified with how he’ll retaliate and decides against it.
The man gags and falls to the ground while spitting feces. Melanie screams. Mr. Polite apparently changes his mind and doesn’t force the man to choke to death. Instead, he rips the patella out of each leg. The man’s screams are answered with neighborhood lights turning on and front doors opening.
“Remember this in the future,” Mr. Polite warns as the man suffers.
He doesn’t seem to care about the attention he’s drawing on himself. He takes a few casual steps toward Melanie, then stops and turns around.
“I almost forgot. You don’t deserve a pet.”
Mr. Polite snaps the dog’s neck with his power. The body falls in front of the blinded man. Now Mr. Polite walks back to Melanie, and he forcefully grabs her arm.
“I think we should move to Colberton, Melanie. What do you say?”
Melanie says nothing as she reluctantly allows Mr. Polite to drag her back to his home to pack. The terrified screams of a blind and crippled man haunt her as she goes.
The End
Votary sits at the head of a simple black table on an orange floor. His chair is orange with a long back rest and hovers eighteen inches above the floor. The chairs that line the table have the same appearance. The bright lights over the table enhances the glow of the chairs and floor. The whole scene produces a Halloween atmosphere.
Sitting in the first four chairs on each side of the table are men and women of varying ages, genders, and ethnicities. They’re a mixture of anxiousness and excitement. Votary understands this, being held captive by the Malignant was likely an ordeal. They clearly don’t want to be on the ship, but the star power of the world’s first superhero apparently captivates them.
“Normally Seal Pup would handle this, but he’s unavailable at the moment,” Votary begins. “So, the task falls to me again.”
“What task is that exactly?” a man in his early thirties asks.
He’s a rugged man with calloused fisherman hands. He grips them together and flexes his various chest and arm muscles. This seems more like a nervous tick than vanity.
“I’m glad you asked,” Votary answers. “The Malignant wanted you people specifically and that means you must be powerful augments. I would like to know who you are and what you can do.”
“Why?” the man asks.
“Isn’t it obvious?” a woman in her late fifties asks. “They want to exploit us the same as that scientist did.”
There are grumbles of agreement around the table as heads nod. Votary holds up a hand to silence them.
“That’s true, but I’ll explain why you joining us is a good thing,” he says.
“Explain first,” the man says.
“No,” Votary responds, “Introductions first. I’m Votary and my power is to negate other powers. Some of you may already know this because I have kept you in a negation bubble since you came in here. To show my willingness to trust you, I’ll take it down now, but please don’t do anything that’ll force me to bring it back up.”
Votary scans the table to make sure his suggestion is agreed to.
“Good,” Votary says. He indicates to the vocal man to his right. “Why don’t you go first?”
The man looks back at Votary with little concern or fear. “Sure, my name is Dante Devine, and I’m from Belize–”
Votary lifts a hand again and silences Dante mid-sentence.
“Just name and power please. The other Templars will ask about the rest, but our time is short, and I frankly don’t care enough for the rest.”
Votary’s candor doesn’t seem well received. He doesn’t care. He nods, indicating that Dante should finish.
“Sure, Votary,” he says with obvious contempt. “We’ll play it your way. I’m Dante Devine and I turn into smoke.”
“That’s it?” Votary asks.
Dante appears hesitant to continue. The elderly woman urges him.
“Just tell him, Xibalba.”
Votary is intrigued by the second name.
“So, you’ve all given yourself code names already?”
He receives sheepish nods as an affirmative.
“We had to talk about something to keep our minds occupied from the reality of aliens kidnapping us,” Dante answers.
“Excellent, I prefer them. Xibalba, from Belize, let me guess, there’s a bit more than just turning into smoke?”
Dante nods. “You seem to know your Mayan mythology.”
“I’m somewhat familiar with it,” Votary admits.
“You’re correct,” Dante says. “There are demons that live within the smoke. I can’t control them. In fact, I feel like I’m merely a portal to Xibalba, but they don’t harm me.”
“Then how were you captured?” Votary asks.
“I was having dinner with my family when they came. If I had smoked up, they would have all died. Horrible deaths.”
Votary nods.
“Double alliteration name with a power that closely ties to it. Lottery will love you.”
Dante shrugs.
“How about you?” Votary asks the woman in her mid-twenties next to Dante.
She’s tall and thin. Her nails and makeup look professionally applied.
“My name is Melissa Phillips, but my friends call me Mel.”
“Or?” Votary urges.
Melissa blushes. “Or Swap.”
“Why Swap?”
“Because I can transfer the augmentation between two individuals. Xibalba would have invisibility and Hide would have smoke demons until I switch them back.”
“Fascinating,” Votary remarks. “So who is Hide?”
“That would be me,” the tattooed man in his mid-thirties next to Melissa says with a raised hand. “I’m Greg Crawford. I can turn myself and anything near me invisible.”
“So can the Malignant armor,” Votary says.
“Not as well as me. We can still see you in your armor if you look just right. When I go invisible, nothing sees me, no matter how close or how much I move. The sound I make is reduced, too.”
“Excellent,” Votary says. “Please continue.”
The last person down the right side of the table shifts in preparation to speak. He’s in his late twenties with a military style buzz cut and steely dark eyes.
“I’m James Larsen, but you can call me Mag Pulse. I can create an EMP burst. A pretty big one from my personal experiments.”
“Meaning what?” Votary asks.
“I knocked out everything electronic in Killeen, Texas. The whole city went dark because of me.”
“Impressive,” Votary says. “I think I remember hearing about that a few weeks ago.”
James sits taller in his seat and smiles until Votary finishes his comment.
“I hope that nobody died because a pacemaker went offline or a plane fell from the sky.”
“I hadn’t thought about that,” James admits.
He looks at the table until Votary shifts his attention.
Votary transitions to the left side of the table. “And you are?”
The target of his question is a man in his early sixties. He has a clean shaven head and the advanced stages of a beer belly.
“I’m Dale Riley. These jokers claim I’m also called Mule.”
“Because you’re big and strong?” Votary genuinely asks.
“Nah, nothing like that. I can transform into any combination of two animals.”
“I see.” Votary nods. “Like a horse and a donkey.”
“Exactly,” Dale answers. “I prefer to go a little more exotic like a skunk and a penguin.”
The group chuckles at the absurd “beast.”
“It may be hard to top that one,” Votary says to the woman seated next to Dale.
She’s the elderly woman that urged Dante to reveal his code name. She’s thin with streaks of gray through her hair and no makeup.
“My name is Mary Lee Hawthorne.”
Mary Lee pauses. She clearly doesn’t want to commit to something.
“Just own it,” Greg says.
“Fine,” she says through clenched teeth. “My call sign is Roids. I can amplify any other augment’s power to one hundred times its normal limit. Apparently, that makes me a drug.”
Votary is skeptical of the claim. “How do you know the limit of the magnification?”
“That scientist did a lot of tests on us. It’s just the figure that he quoted.”
“Was this scientist a huge man with a red beard going into his armor?” Votary asks.
Mary Lee nods. “He was. I have to admit that I was shocked when I saw him walking around the ship days after you released us.”
“Flaimeson is on our side. He was a spy for Father. You can trust
him,” Votary insists.
“Well, as long as you say so,” Dante says with only half humor.
Votary ignores the man and moves down the line to the tall man with tight muscles and tattoos covering almost all exposed skin. “Who are you and what do you do?”
The man scratches at his scraggily beard before answering. “I’m Dan Moffett. You can call me Thumbnail when on mission, and I truly hope you take me on one soon. Those bastards have got it coming.”
“What exactly do you do that I want you on a mission, Thumbnail?” Votary asks.
“Anything I draw, I can pull into the real world. I’m a pretty good artist, too.”
“Very useful, make sure you always have a pen and sketch pad handy,” Votary says.
The short and thin woman at the end of the table doesn’t look at Votary. She, along with Melissa, is the youngest person present. She plays with her long brown hair and nibbles on the edges.
“Your turn, ma’am,” Votary says.
She ignores him.
“You don’t have to stay with us, but you can’t leave until you answer my two simple questions.”
The woman still ignores Votary. He slams his fist onto the table, cracking the delicate wood in the process. This burst of violence jolts all eight former prisoners in their chairs. The woman covers her face as she tries to hide her terror and her tears.
“Just tell him who you are, Staci,” James pleads.
“She crying again?” Greg asks with contempt. “Ow! Shit, bitch!”
Greg jumps from the table with the clear intent of attacking Staci, but then he crumbles to the floor and writhes around from the assault of an invisible tormentor. He screams as he does. Votary is intrigued by what takes place. He quickly ends the mysterious attack when he pushes out his negation bubble.
Greg stands up and rushes over the table. He’s able to close his hands around Staci’s throat. He begins to choke her. The small woman is feeble in her own attempts to save herself. James yanks Greg off her and punches him in the face. Greg takes a step back and smiles. He’s clearly a person that uses violence as a narcotic and quickly punches James in the face with two quick jabs before Votary is able to intercept him.
Sleepers and Scouts Page 32
