by Mason Dakota
“That’s one way of looking at it,” said a rather calm voice from deeper in the shadows. A man stepped out from the darkness. My heart stopped beating.
The man was tall. He had hawkish features, a scruffy beard, and a thin scar along his left jaw line. Twenty years had passed, but his eyes were just like I remembered, always looking ahead, perpetually absent from the present. His hair was short and straight. He wore a green shirt under a dark jacket. Black combat boots caked in mud covered his feet. A desert scarf draped his neck. A military green ball cap sat on his head. Holstered at his side was a black blaster pistol—an incredibly illegal military weapon capable of melting steel and bursting skulls open with a single shot.
…Dad?
He shouldn’t be alive. He shouldn’t be standing here. He was supposed to be dead and Gabriel was supposed to be a liar.
My father made his way over toward the unconscious man strapped to the chair as he spoke, “Do you know who we have here in our presence, Raven? The famous Shaman sits before us. Or is infamous a better word? Either way, it seems that you, Shaman, have a talent for placing yourself into situations where you do not belong.”
He spoke with intelligence and confidence with a slight edge to his tone. Each movement looked carefully controlled and calculated, and yet a rage suppressed beneath his surface, bubbling and waiting for escape.
“I really didn’t imagine someone as small and insignificant as you being a problem. But imagine my surprise when Shaman comes knocking down my door with a Noble and a man I thought was dead. You made yourself my enemy, and I cannot allow any reckless interference in my work—especially any connected with that fool, Gabriel. It is because of your relationship with Gabriel, my associate spared your life. But what must happen here tonight happens because you have a friendship with Gabriel.”
“I’m not sure I would call what Gabriel and I have as a friendship,” I said. Richard smirks and I see myself in his expression.
Richard stepped around the tied up man in the chair, gliding his hand across the man’s shoulder’s before he stopped on the victim’s other side. “Your crimes consist of far greater wrongs than you simply interfering in business. I might have offered you a job if our circumstances differed; however, you eliminated all chances of partnership when you decided to enlist outside help—from these disgraceful Nobles, nonetheless. My associate and I have halted our operation to undo this reckless mistake. The Justicars are dead, left with just the two of you—a vigilante and the last surviving member. Why don’t you say hello…Jeremiah Lorre?”
Richard pulled back the victim’s head. Even though he was severely beaten, I recognized Lorre. He grasped through strands of consciousness, but the spark in him still burned enough that he spat into Richard’s face. My father laughed, wiped his face clean, and said, “Funny…your species thinks we are the apes.” Then he forced Lorre’s face aside as if Lorre meant nothing.
My skin boiled with a fire and rage. Lorre didn’t deserve this. Lorre once saved my life and faced continuous suffering on my account. This good man had suffered enough for me.
“Any man who makes a sport of murder and killing is no better than an animal,” I growled.
My father raised his eyebrows and hummed under his breath. “That’s your first impression of me? I’ve got to work on my people skills,” he said.
“Call me quick in making judgments,” I said.
“Then you’re a fool.”
“This fool knows what you’re planning. I’ve seen your test subjects. I know what your virus will do when unleashed. Complete genocide. You are a monster.”
Like a panther, my father pounced forward, halting spitting distance from my face. He lifted his finger and whispered in a cold husky voice, “That’s where you’re wrong.”
With a devious smile, he backpedaled a few feet away from me and continued speaking. “I must say I admire your work, Shaman. A single thief takes it upon himself to combat a global organization like Nebula and somehow survives. Quite the admirable story. But now I catch you working with their leader. I wonder, did you really fare well in your fight, or were you merely another member of them?”
“He’s not one of them,” said Raven.
Richard turned toward Raven and asked, “Really? How can you tell?”
Raven looked at me, snarled and said, “They tend to have a certain…smell about them. He lacks it.”
Richard turned back to me and smiled. “Smell, huh? So, what we have here really is just a fool in a mask trying to play hero.” He leaned in closer and traced a finger along the side of my face. “I am half tempted to remove that mask now and see who lies underneath. Until last night I assumed you were Gabriel. After all…I was there when Shaman was born. Curious that he passed on his mantle…almost tempting enough to spoil what comes next. But, I shall refrain. For the moment.”
He leaned back and spoke normally as he said, “You’re good at what you do, Shaman. Lots of potential. Except that you’re fighting a losing battle. The problems you think you’re facing are just symptoms of the disease.”
“The disease being Nobles, right?” I asked.
“Precisely. What has your work really accomplished when the Noble crooks and murderers you put to a stop each evening return the next night? This is just a small taste of the problem plaguing this world. Our people are beaten, chained, and enslaved for profit without repercussions. We have been fighting a war for generations and losing. I offer a solution to the problem—a cure to the disease. They are a virus. Does that make the doctor a monster if he kills the virus?”
I hated the fact that his question had run through my mind many times before. What was I really accomplishing each night when the entire system was corrupt? Would it be better to kill my enemies instead of letting them live? I had killed before in self-defense. Could I kill intentionally if it saved lives?
What was I really accomplishing except higher client activity in hospitals? Maybe it was best to change tactics. Did considering such a change make me as bad as my father? Surely not! It’s not like I developed a strain of virus to wipe out Noble life! I wasn’t crazy. I still had enough sense to separate good from evil.
Richard glanced from me to Lorre. He stepped aside to point over at Lorre, still tied to the chair, with disgust on his face.
“What really gives them the right to name us beneath them? We created them! For far too long, they have enslaved most of our people and suppressed the remaining free for base pleasure. They have sterilized entire communities of Outcasts and bombed others that resisted their rule. They make us fight for scraps to live on while they enjoy the luxuries we created for them. We give our children to pleasure them and our sons to die for their greed. Am I really more vile than all the destruction they have done to our people?”
“Not every Noble is responsible for that!”
“Tyrants always think they are without fault. Every Noble is responsible for maintaining a corrupt system.” He pulled out a syringe with some yellowish liquid swimming inside of it.
“You can’t do this! There’s no justifying this!”
“That is a matter of perspective.”
“Then tell me why? Help me understand what motivates someone to do what you are threatening!”
He smiled and said, “Because the Nobles and their Emperor took everything from me.”
Then he jammed the needle in the side of Lorre’s neck and pumped the virus into his veins.
I fought against my bindings and screamed as I watched the virus get pumped into Lorre’s body. “NO! Don’t do this!”
My father threw back his head and shouted into the air, “This is the Outcast Legion! This is freedom! We are the change in the system, fighting fire with fire. Morality has nothing to do with it anymore. Only results matter now.”
Lorre’s body shook violently and his eyes grew twice their size in shock. He coughed and gagged and vomited on the floor. He trembled in agony. Blood dripped from the corner of his lips.
&
nbsp; “YOU MONSTER!” I screamed.
“I told you in the beginning what happens tonight is because of your mistakes—because of your friendship with Gabriel.” Richard said. He pulled out the syringe from Lorre’s neck, slid it into his left pocket and pulled out another syringe from his right pocket. He walked over toward me.
His intentions were obvious.
“I know what’s in that syringe. It won’t affect me. I’m an Outcast like you,” I said.
“You are half right. You are an Outcast, and therefore the original strand won’t affect you. That is why I had this one specially made for you. You see, it will infect you as if you were a Noble, but it will only pass on to other Nobles and not affect any other Outcasts. If you so wish to associate yourself with their kind and defend them from their due justice, then it only serves you right to suffer with them.”
Then my father stuck the syringe filled with yellow liquid into my neck and infected me with the virus.
Forty-Two
A liquid serpent slithered under my skin and spread to the ends of my toes and tips of my fingers. I violently squirmed against my chair to hopeless avail. Richard finished the deed and removed the needle from my neck.
“You were just injected with the Noble Virus, a modified version of the smallpox virus discovered frozen in the icecaps. Scientist took it and redesigned its genetic make-up to be injected into a water supply and only infect a single target that matched a desired genetic code. Originally meant to be a revolutionary weapon against terrorism, I stole it in its early stages of development. I then modified the virus’s genetic targeting system to mark the Noble gene and create what has now been injected into you. As I already mentioned, your strand can infect only Nobles, making them carriers who will spread the virus further.”
Then he leaned in closer and whispered, “You are now my new Patient Zero.”
With everything I had, I fought against the bonds that held me. It was hopeless.
“Yes, fight it! You see the more you fight, the faster your heart beats, causing the virus to spread faster and kill you sooner. The longest I’ve ever seen a victim last was two weeks. He was handcuffed to a bed. You’ll likely be dead in a day, two tops with the life you live each night—long enough to spread the virus across the city. It’ll start feeling like the flu. Fatigue will quickly strike and bring with it flashes of pain and nausea. Then you will begin to lose control of your bowels. Your body will bleed profusely. Your flesh will begin to decay before your very eyes, and soon enough your organs will shut down one by one, but not before the dementia and the hallucinations start. If you’re lucky your brain may go first and turn you into a helpless vegetable suffering from the horrific disease before it takes your life. I promise you it will not be a pleasant experience. You have my word.”
Then he leaned in close, wrapped my head with his arm in a cold embrace, and whispered into my ear, “If you survive what comes next, you will be my weapon against the tyranny of this empire.”
Okay Griffon, now is the time to panic!
“You would infect an Outcast just like you? Doesn’t that go against everything you just told me? You’re a hypocrite!” I shouted.
“Anyone who aids the Nobles is an enemy to my Legion. You chose your side long ago when you sought out Nebula and other Nobles to help you. You might as well be Noble. I can’t allow anyone to interfere with my plans whether he is Outcast or Noble, so the both of you must be punished.”
“You won’t get away with this,” I growled.
Richard looked back at Lorre and said, “You fight for them, but do you really think they care? Do you really think they would return the favor?”
I didn’t answer.
“You are a dog to them, filth in their way. Allow me to prove it.” He moved to the exact center point between Lorre and me and pulled a small silver case from his inside coat pocket. “This is the only cure to the virus you both have. I’m going to leave it here for you. The catch is that there is just enough for one patient. The two of you will have to settle who lives and who dies.”
“What sort of sick game is this?” I spat.
“That’s exactly what it is, a game because when it comes down to it that is all life really is, a game between opponents and adversaries to see who is superior, as evolution dictates. Once I disappear you will be left on your own to escape from your bonds to settle the matter like animals. You both sought to be allies. I must teach you the errors of your ways. There’s only enough for one. You share, you both die.”
He set the silver case on the ground and started toward the shadows.
“We’ve met before!” I shouted at him.
He stopped in his tracks and turned around to study me. “Oh really? When?”
I saw the wheels turning in his head and his mind raced to figure out my identity.
“Twenty years ago,” I said.
“Twenty years? You’re still fairly young. You must have been a young boy then,” he said as he tilted his head at me and crossed his arms.
I smiled behind my mask. “I wasn’t just any boy. I’m your son!”
I had expected a different reaction than the one that I got. Richard Nightlock, my father, threw back his head and laughed. “You expect me to believe that? No, my son happens to be doing rather well for himself, as I hear it. He works in politics fighting for the rights for the people you abandoned in your crusade. He wouldn’t be some vigilante defending Nobles.”
“Then tell me. Why have you kept my mask on?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Because it doesn’t interest me to know who you are. I am only interested in what you can do for me. Some mysteries are better left unanswered; however…now you’ve got my attention. Raven, if you would do the honors.”
Tempest Raven, still standing behind my left shoulder, reached forward and ripped off my mask. I watched gleefully as my father’s eyes exploded in shock.
“Hello, daddy,” I said through a wicked smile. Richard gritted his teeth and raced toward me. Without hesitation, he punched me across the cheek. Pain exploded in my jaw but I maintained self-control and kept silent—even kept my smile. I would not give him the satisfaction of thinking he’d hurt me.
“FOOL! You have no idea of what you have done!”
I whispered, “What I’ve done is put myself between you and Chicago. Remember me when I say this. I…will…stop you.”
He frowned and said, “Everything leading up to this point has been done with you in mind. I will not let you destroy what I am doing for you—even if that means you must die for your foolishness.”
Is he going to commit genocide for me?
“I still stand by what I said. You’re a monster.”
Richard shook his head. He was stunned and still trying to process who I was. “I’ve done everything to create a better world for you. But I will not accept a son who still holds to an old world. This is your last chance. Either embrace this new world I am creating for you, or die.”
“You mean join you in committing genocide and I get to live?”
Richard nodded.
I smiled before I spat in his face. “There’s your answer.”
Richard wiped his face and sighed. He actually appeared deeply hurt. “This is not how it should be. I’ve lost my son to the Nobles.” He looked me in the eyes and whispered, “They killed my son.”
My father left me there and this time I didn’t try to stop him. Just Lorre and me now. Lorre burned a fiery glare full of blood lust right at me. I didn’t blame him. Proof of my identity surely shattered his world into a million pieces yet again.
He was going to kill me for the cure.
Forty-Three
I fought against my bindings, but Lorre was doing better. Rage and Noble strength fueled him. He got one arm free, and clawed at the bindings on his other hand with fingers, teeth, and nails. I leaned down and tore into the ropes with my teeth—anything to help. I got one arm free and then the second.
I looked up to check on Lo
rre and saw he worked already on his last leg. There was no doubt now that he would get to the case first.
Unless he intends to kill me first!
Lorre broke free from the last of his bindings and leapt from his chair. Like a mad dog he ran for the silver case. I snapped my last binding and charged forward for the case. Lorre reached the case first. He dropped to his knees and picked up the silver case with eager hands and hope-filled eyes.
I struck Lorre first.
I dove forward, smashed my fist into the side of Lorre’s face with my full weight behind it, and carried us both forward and to the ground. The silver case flew away from him. Possessed by the monster inside me, I kicked at Lorre while furiously scrambling after the cure. It bounced away from us and I rushed after it on hands and knees. I snatched the silver case just as I heard an angry cry behind me.
Lorre pounced like a leopard and hit my side. The air exploded from my lungs. We crashed and rolled in a tangle of flailing limbs before I planted my boot in his chest and heaved with all my strength. Lorre’s momentum reversed and he thudded to the ground a few feet away from me.
He tried to get up, but this time I tackled him to the ground. We both cried out in rage as we struggled. We rolled, kicking and kneeing and throwing elbows into each other until I ended up on top of him. He tried to push me off but I rained down punches. I bloodied my fists breaking his nose, cutting his eyebrow, and busting his lip.
Lorre countered with blows to my gut and damaged ribs. I gagged and screamed and saw the world flash with lights. Lorre squirmed and tried to throw me off him. I grabbed a rock and lifted it above my head. He threw up his hands to guard his face and I smashed the rock into his exposed chest. He gasped, spit hitting me in the face, as I bruised his ribs. I lifted the rock again and broke his wrist.
He screamed in pain and I pounded upon him out of pure madness. Sweat and blood dripped from my forehead. My knuckles bled red and my skin and scabs split open into deeper cuts with each punch I handed Lorre.
