Furies- Thus Spoke

by O'Brian Gunn

  “You did more than just help me.”

  “Stay with me as long as you need to until you feel you’re ready.”

  “You can stay with us as long as you need to until you feel you’re ready to face your wife, your truth, and your self.” The Dragoness luxuriates in Adam’s frustration.

  He doesn’t stay.

  Adam presses the page down against the rooftop winds and continues reading aloud Hebrews chapter eleven, verse five.

  “‘By faith Enoch was taken from this life, so that he did not experience death; he could not be found, because God had taken him away. For before he was taken, he was commended as one who pleased God. And without faith it is impossible to please God, because anyone who comes to Him must believe that He exists and that He rewards those who earnestly seek Him.’”

  His eyes look out over Dominion City, at the specks of people rushing across crosswalks, at the lights burning in apartment and business buildings. Moonlight melts down the reflective surface of the Parcell Spiral.

  “How many of you are earnestly seeking God?” The roiling wind whips his words. He reads on. “‘By faith Abraham, even though he was past age—and Sarah herself was barren—was enabled to become a father because he considered him faithful who had made the promise. And so from this one man, and he as good as dead, came descendants as numerous as the stars in the sky and as countless as the sand on the seashore.’”

  He clutched a hand to his chest and blinked back tears. The next scripture is a bit choked and raw.

  “‘All these people were living by faith when they died. They did not receive the things promised; they only saw them and welcomed them from a distance. And they admitted that they were aliens and strangers on earth. People who say such things show that they are looking for a country of their own. If they had been thinking of the county they had left, they would have had opportunity to—’”

  A shriek and the staccato sound of twisting metal as a bus slams into something.

  Adam’s head snaps up and he looks down at 16th and Gateway. He squints his eyes and can barely make out the features of a man...stepping out of the large crater crumpled into the front of the bus. He does not wobble and he does not appear to be injured. Instead, he walks to the side of the bus and deadlifts it with his bare hands, raising it over his head. He roars, leg and arm muscle cording tightly as he prepares to throw the bus.

  Adam slips the small Bible in his back pocket and drops from the edge of the roof.

  Wind whistles.

  Vision streams.

  Gravity grabs.

  The word is uttered.

  “Ascension!”

  A blaze of silver glory engulfs his body and gives him the power of flight. Sovereign brings his arms to his sides and slices through the air in a rush of platinum, a silver-white brushstroke coloring the air.

  The man holding the bus frowns as his ears pop, thick eyebrows knitting together. The air screams and smudges seconds before two fists slam into his gut and he is knocked back into an aging phone booth in a crash of glittering glass and mauled metal.

  Sovereign hovers back to the bus and catches it before it lands on its side, gently setting it down. Passengers scramble out as he turns and advances on the man pulling his short frame from the demolished booth. His flesh, shimmering slightly in the nearby neon light, is whole. He twists his neck to the left and right, bones cracking. “You came.”

  “Explain yourself.”

  “Okay.” The man runs forward, drops his shoulder, and plows the both of them into the empty bus, using Sovereign to cushion him from the worst of the impact. The vehicle rocks back at the titanic mass, tires roaring as they scrape across the street.

  A crowd gathers.

  Sovereign slams an elbow on the man’s back. Flesh rings out in a song of struck steel, but his opponent does not bend, budge, or break. Again Sovereign rams an elbow into his back, putting all his strength into it. The man’s grip loosens and Sovereign shoots out at his chest with both feet, sending him flying back through the air...straight into the crowd packed with fragile forms.

  A silver streak.

  Sovereign fetches the man behind the back and under the arms before his dense flesh careens into anyone, platinum palms pressed to the back of the man’s head. “Stop this!”

  “I can’t yet.” He shoves both their bodies down into the pavement and pops Sovereign in the mouth before he can recover. The smaller man whirls out of the platinum grasp. Fingers curl into a fist and piston forward. Sovereign bats the fist aside and delivers a right cross, left cross, right in rapid succession from the ground. He’s in motion as the man fires off another punch at his head. The blow shatters concrete.

  “Why are you doing this? This isn’t how your blessing should be used.”

  The man stomps over and yanks up a streetlamp in a shower of sparks and snapped wires. He swings. Sovereign is about to dodge when he sees the people behind him. He steps forward, folds his forearms over his head and takes the full force of the blow. The pole warps and wraps noisily around his body. His opponent drops it and uproots a metal bench. It becomes an airborne missile. Sovereign jumps twelve feet into the air and catches it before it hits someone. “Will all of you please clear the area!”

  The crowd barely stirs. Some people stand with their smartphone cameras pointed at the fray.

  The Sovereign of God sighs and turns back just in time to avoid a headbutt. He hops back, grabs the man by the sides of his head, and rams a knee into his face. The man stumbles backwards and almost falls. He stalks forward.

  Sovereign holds a hand out. “This is unnecessary. Stop this foolishness.”

  “Not. Yet.” He backhands the silver man clear across the street. He lands roughly and the entire block quakes, skipping and bouncing back as he plows deep divots in the concrete.

  A whisper. “God, please forgive me for what I’m about to do.” Sovereign swoops for the empty bus, digs his fingers into the back end, picks it up, and takes to the air until he hovers over the crazed man.

  “You wouldn’t dare.”

  Sovereign dares. He uses the bus as a battering ram, bludgeoning it down on the man’s head, seeing his mouth drop and his eyes widen as the bus’s shadow expands around him as it rushes closer. His skin loses a bit of its lustrous sheen.

  The bus accordions in a raucous refrain as it kisses pavement and flesh. Concrete cracks and rips. The crowd gasps and steps back as bits of debris showers the area. The smell of gas tinges the air.

  Sovereign waits a moment before picking up the ruined remainder of the bus, half of it snapping off. The man is on his back, a bit of blood oozing from his nose and mouth, his hair now streaked with oil. The grin he gives Sovereign quivers.

  “You passed.”

  The silver sight of Sovereign is snuffed out. Adam steps into the crater, kneels, and gently lifts the man’s head. “Passed what? What was this about?”

  He points a broken finger at the crowd. “I had to prove it to them, the non-believers. You are the Sovereign of God, Adam Kensie. I know that, and now they do, too.”

  “SOMEONE CALL FOR AN AMBULANCE!”

  People continue to stare, record the spectacle on their phones, text, and talk to each other or the person on the other end of the phone. A few people look at each other. A stooped-over old woman with a walking cane finally calls 911.

  “Can you feel your arms and legs?”

  He licks blood from his lips. “I think I may have broken a bone or two, but don’t worry about it. I only partially reverted my body back to flesh and blood before you hit me.”

  “You shouldn’t have done this.” Adam wipes at the blood on the man’s face with his shirt.

  The beginnings of a shrug that twists into a cringe. “Too late. Hate that we had to tear up the block and ruin a bus, but it was worth it. Can’t always be cordial when you’re talking to people, sometimes you have to scream.” Cracked smile. “Or hit them with a bus.”

  Sirens wail in the distanc
e.

  “Sovereign?”

  Adam looks down at him.

  “Pray with me?”

  He nods, clasps the man’s hand, and prays. He lifts his supplications for forgiveness, healing, and Truth. Adam raises his eyes to heaven, but sees only stars against blackness, skylights, and the flash of cameras in the corners of his eyes.

  Perry steps into Commissioner Moskovitz’s office. The two men in black suits stand with their hands behind their backs, postures stiff and faces politely blank.

  “Detective West, I’d like you to meet agents Acevedo and Beecher.”

  Acevedo’s grip is as hard as his face. Beecher’s eyes dance rapid in his skull; analyzing, cataloguing, and filing.

  “We’d like to extend our thanks on behalf of the FBI in regards to your work on the Unfettered Mind Machine case.” Beecher withdraws his small, soft hand behind his back.

  “Thank you.”

  “We’d like to go over all of the files and notes you’ve gathered so far and cross-reference them with our data banks, see if any matches turn up.” Acevedo scratches at his nose.

  “Absolutely. I’ve got time now if you’d like.”

  “That’d be ideal.”

  Perry leads them down the hall. “I, uh, I was wondering if it would be possible for me to assist you with this case. Not asking to be right there in the thick of it with you, I could just—”

  “We’ve already assembled a team.” Acevedo stops at a water cooler and fills a cone cup. He looks at his partner. “You want?”

  Beecher shakes a hand.

  Perry waits while Acevedo finishes three cups, crumples the cone and tosses it. They move on. “I realize I may be getting in over my head here, but I’d really like to offer my help in any way I can.” Perry stops at his desk and collects folders and notes. “This case means a lot to me, an’ I’d really like to be there w—”

  “Is this everything?” Acevedo nods at the small pile.

  Perry’s forehead wrinkles. “Yeah, that—” He rubs at his mouth. “That’s everything. Wish I had more.”

  A muttered “me too.” Acevedo opens the blue folder and stuffs the loose notes and slips of paper inside. “We’ll be in touch. Thank you, detective.” He brushes past him.

  Beecher holds back. He glances over his shoulder at the dour man as he walks down the hall. He looks back at Perry. “I’m really sorry about my partner. He’s still kinda new at this and thinks he has to be a gaping asshole to everyone whose first name isn’t agent, deputy, or chief.”

  “It’s fine.”

  He scratches at his balding head. “I’ll, uh, I’ll see what I can do about getting you on the team.”

  Acevedo stops at the far end of the hall, looks back.

  Beecher clears his throat, glances down, and rubs beneath his lip. “Look, I, uh, I’ve heard about you being, you know—” Whisper. “—gay and all, and I just...” Quirked eyebrow. “I was wondering if—” He closes his eyes and exhales through his nose. “Fuck it.” He retrieves his phone, pulls out a card from the case. “I live just outside of Neon, with the rest of the family. Give me a call sometime if you want.” He sets his card on Perry’s desk, sticks his hand out for a parting handshake that lingers a few seconds more than necessary, and leaves.

  Acevedo shakes his head as his partner catches up. “Please tell me you did not give him your number.” He walks.

  “So what if I did?” He looks over his shoulder one last time. “He’s damn attractive.”

  “And your ass is still legally married to that hateful bitch of a soon-to-be ex-wife of yours.”

  “I sign the divorce papers tomorrow.”

  “And you’ll be getting your ass plowed five minutes later.”

  “God, I hope so.”

  Perry braces himself up on his desk and watches them leave. He catches Moskovitz’s eye, quickly looking away and plopping himself down in his seat. Moments later Moskovitz eases himself down in the seat across from the detective.

  The commissioner’s mustache wriggles. “Say it.”

  Perry interlaces his fingers and loops his hands over his head. “Say what?”

  Grey eyes roll. “You look like someone just gutted you and stole one of your kidneys without so much as a happy ending.”

  Perry snorts, swings his hands down. “Might as well have. I’ve been working that case since the beginning and I’m expected to be totally compliant when the FBI waltzes in and plucks it out of my fingers.”

  The commissioner spreads his hands. “They have more resources than we do, they can solve it faster.” Beat. “You’ve never had a case taken away from you, have you?”

  Head shake.

  “Not used to just rolling over and taking it when someo...” He trails off, ticking his eyes down and clearing his throat. “What does it matter who solves it as long as the case is solved?” He stands. “There’s still a chance the FBI will bring you in and ask for your perspective on finding this—this underground cabal.” He starts to leave, stops, turns. “And don’t go doing anything that might cost you your badge.” He raises a finger. “Don’t need the director of the FBI gnawing on my ass because of one of your little tantrums.”

  Perry watches him leave. Just as he watched Acevedo and Beecher leave after they took something from him, something that he simply handed over.

  As he sat on his ass.

  Detective Perry West grips his armrests, his jaw muscles flex and tighten. Then he gets up off his ass.

  Excerpt from Lamar Koehler Live:

  The image wavers and wobbles as the man in it holds the bus over his head.

  The air whines and people in front of the camera step back.

  “They shooting a movie or something?”

  “Where are the wires holding the bus?”

  “That’s an Alpha-Omega, you dumbBLEEP.”

  A silver missile blurs the air and the man with the bus is slammed back by a powerful force.

  The bus starts to fall.

  A man burning platinum catches it.

  “Is that that guy?”

  “What guy?”

  “That guy that was on the news earlier. At tha—WOAH!”

  “That guy” is tackled back into the bus, crumpling it like sheet metal. Seconds later, a body comes flying out of the wreckage towards the spectators. “That guy” turns into a silver-white smudge and wraps the other man in a body lock.

  “HolyBLEEP, that’s Sovereign!”

  “Who?”

  “The guy that was on TV at that church.”

  “That’s not—Is it?”

  Sovereign slams a series of punches into the other man’s jaw before evading the concrete-shattering blow.

  “Damn that guy’s strong.”

  “And he’s so little.”

  “That’s how deceptive A-Os are. Sneaky little freaks.”

  “Hey, lady, my grandma’s an A-O.”

  The crowd surges back in the image as the shorter man swings a streetlight at Sovereign, sparks flying from the shattered bulb. The camera jerks up as Sovereign catches a thrown bench. The silver-white man turns to the camera.

  “Will all of you please clear the area!”

  “And miss this? Is he serious?”

  The battle continues.

  “This event took place earlier tonight in downtown Dominion City. Thankfully, no one was injured or killed. The Alpha-Omega male fighting Sovereign has yet to be identified, but he has been released from the hospital with only minor injuries.

  “Up until now, Alpha-Omegas have been seen as many things: neighbors, family, friends, coworkers. They have been persecuted and protected, reviled and respected. But tonight, they have become something else. They’ve become feared.

  “We’ve known since their debut that there are Alpha-Omegas with terribly destructive powers, and we’re once again reminded of the threat these genetically reawakened beings can pose to our safety.

  “Not all Alpha-Omegas seek to make peace with the non-powered communit
y, and not all of them wish to live normal lives. The idea of super-powered criminals worries me, frightens me. But the idea of an Alpha-Omega like Sovereign, one who seeks to protect us, gives me great hope.

  “I only pray the world is well-prepared if war should break out between Alpha-Omegas. I pray we’re prepared, and I pray even more that we’ll survive.

  “Good night, America.”

  FADE OUT

  EPISODE NINE: “We’re Just Ordinary People”

  I don’t normally break the fourth wall like this, but there’s someone else watching them, Adam, Bisset, Noir, Perry, Giorgio, and Leo. An A-O with the ability to cast out their mind to read and manipulate the thoughts of others. I’ve felt them as I’ve been narrating this story, scratching and buzzing and prodding at the edges of my omnipresent awareness. I don’t know what this person wants, their thoughts and activities are mostly shielded from me, but I have been getting more psychic flickers these last few episodes.

  The Great Orchestrator approaches the podium.

  THUM-THUMP

  THUM-THUMP

  THUM-THUMP

  Alien blood pumps and propels itself through Noir’s veins. He cocks his head to the side, listening to the pulses of life throbbing away in his arteries. Individual notes hammer at his heart. Matthew Maddrox McCain’s legato tenor THUMP is complemented by Freddy’s staccato bass THUM.

  There’s a song in Noir’s heart.

  A puff of laughter from his lips.

  “The blood is clean.”

  The song collides with its coda.

  Noir looks over at the man with hay-colored cornrows as he brings his head back from the eyepiece of the microscope and looks over his shoulder at Noir. “Don’t know how in the hell your body is doin’ it, probably your A-O gene, but you’ve managed to...hybridize blood together without any harm to yourself.” He rests an elbow on the table. “You’ve also got two different blood types now, which is physiologically impossible.”