Preternaturals: A Superhero Thriller

by Allen Kensington

  Malorius made no movements to stop him. “Now, if you’ll excuse me. I have some adversaries to crush.” He turned and strode back toward the fallen heroes, seeming to pay no more attention to Billy.

  It appeared that escape was indeed a possibility.

  The Aegis groaned as the invisible vice tightened around him. “I still have your woman, Nightgaunt,” he shouted against the renewed pain. “She’ll die if you don’t help us.”

  Billy thought for a moment, considering his options. He did love Meredith, but his help didn’t assure that he would ever see her again. In fact, nothing could. Even if he aided the Aegis in defeating Malorius, death and betrayal were ever-present dangers. There were no guarantees.

  Why should he die for the mere possibility of saving her? She was bound to her family, rejecting the life of pleasure that he had offered. No, it was better for him to leave, to live and enjoy the spoils on his own terms. The situation required nothing less.

  “Keep her,” he shouted. “With the money that I have now, she’ll be easy enough to replace.” He turned and dropped to the building’s side, descending with quick movements. Malorius’ laugh faded as he to put as much distance between himself and the omnipotent villain.

  Let them fight. He was free.

  Chapter Forty-four

  Red watched with horror as his friends were overpowered. Jack Williams, or Dr. Malorius (as he now appeared to be), had rendered them ineffective with a careless ease. He held the Aegis in a death grip, constricting as he sent away another costumed preternatural that Red hadn’t even seen. Now, nothing stood between himself and the villain.

  Malorius waved a hand, parting the debris between them like stacks of children’s toys. With the Aegis in tow, he levitated and glided toward Red, splotches of blood painting his path. Before the villain had closed the distance, Red felt invisible hands pressing around his throat. The grip tightened, and he, too, was lifted into the air. Struggling to breathe, his feet left the safety of the floor. Malorius was upon him.

  “The same offer applies to you, Faction,” the man said, drawing nearer until their faces were inches apart. “You may leave us, if you wish.”

  Red could smell the putrid scents of blood and old alcohol upon the man. He struggled for a moment, trying to budge the invisible prison. Useless, he tried a different tact. “You would let me go?”

  The villain regarded him for a moment, then released. Red tumbled back to the hard floor, air again beginning to pass into his lungs. He stood, backing away from the massive, armored villain, and drawing closer to the exit. Halfway there, he picked up a brick and chucked it at the fiend. It travelled most of the way toward its target, stopped in midair, and exploded.

  “Not much good in a fight, are you, Mr. Cunningham?” the villain asked.

  “I can hold my own,” Red replied. He was already using his power, trying to find something inside the other’s mind. The coming fight was unavoidable, he knew that, but despite the odds, he had to stand his ground. He picked up another brick and raised his arm to throw it, knowing the projectile wouldn’t do much good.

  Malorius caught this one before it left Red’s fist, and crushed it to dust with his telekinetic energies. Red screamed, feeling the invisible forces compress his hand. His bones splintered into a thousand tiny shards, pain and nausea overwhelming him. He fell to his knees, cradling the injury. Darkness narrowed his vision as he slipped into trauma-induced shock.

  “Go ahead,” Red said through the pain, “kill me.” His power struggled to pull goodness from the criminal. “At least they’ll see that I went down fighting.”

  Dr. Malorius regarded the newly-arrived flock of helicopters that surrounded them, recording the event from all angles. “Oh, no. I’m not going to kill you. Not yet,” he said, seeming to take pleasure in their presence. “That would waste the exquisite abilities that you have grown for me.”

  He leaned closer, whispering into Red’s ear. “No. I need you alive, for now.” He looked back to the hovering machines. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t give them a good show.”

  A backhand sent Red flying, his body landing amongst the tattered ruins. He scarcely noticing the potent impact as his consciousness began to fail. The world grew hazy, and his eyelids felt awkward and heavy.

  He knew he couldn’t fight the villain, not like this. Closing his eyes, he gave himself wholly to the ability. Only in Malorius’ mind could he hope for a chance. He strained his preternatural skill to its limits, casting about for some possibility of survival.

  What he discovered confused him further.

  Normally, his preternatural power found pieces inside of people: memories or emotions that helped to change the subject’s mind. He searched for these within Malorius, but the baffling jumble denied him his wish. More than any other mind, this one perplexed him. The memories he sought were there, he could feel them, but a darker layer overlaid everything, as if trying to sort a box of mementoes covered in tar.

  Red concentrated harder, hoping to organize the chaos into something rational. The senator’s past held amazing heroism, the bravery and principles of Captain Valour, but years of corruption and neglect left Jack Williams a very different man from his youthful self. Red struggled to find reason within the madness, but the polar duality bewildered him. Each time he neared an answer, he found himself pulled in another direction.

  Sifting through the memories, he watched past events play within his mind’s eye. The hero’s exploits reenacted themselves within his personal theatre. Red was awestruck, watching the hero foil the fiendish plots of his rivals. If not for the encroaching doom, he could have spent hours in the senator’s mind, but necessity drove him further.

  As Red searched, he marveled at the similarities between these and Stephen Detch’s thoughts. It seemed as if duplicate ideologies drove the two men, and although their memories were different, their goals and motivations aligned. He had never known two people to be so seemingly simpatico, and if it weren’t for the errant thoughts that disrupted the senator’s premeditation, he would have thought them the same.

  The two men shared one memory, and Red drew upon it, noticing the strangeness that surrounded every recollection regarding Dr. Malorius. He sensed the enmity between Captain Valour and the evil doctor, but something more waited on the outskirts of each remembrance. There was sympathy, a squirming idea that the villain had always been right, and when Red watched their final battle atop the bridge, he came to understand.

  He was not searching one mind, but two.

  Captain Valour had been tainted by Malorius’ will, just as the little boy had. The idea brought greater clarity to Red’s search, and within the dark recesses of the villain, he discovered pieces of the real Jack Williams fighting to break free. Each seemed to solidify as he found them, reacting to his mental touch. He began to recognize the presence of Jack reawakening, a personality entirely different from that of his enemy.

  Fighting for every scrap of the former hero, Red endeavored to hold the older gentleman together. His power had never worked like this before, and each moment brought a new challenge. He drew upon all of his will, blocking out the pain and shock of his physical wounds.

  “Come on, Jack,” Red bellowed as he grappled with another memory. The shout helped no one but himself, seeming to exorcise his anxiety. He knew this wasn’t a time for emotion or fear. This was a time for action. “Help me, Jack. Help me fight.”

  More perceptions rushed to him, and Red did his best to put them together, sensing the will behind them. A presence reawakened, pushing passed the alcohol and opposing ideals. A glimmer of Captain Valour seemed to appear.

  As the hero’s personality congealed, another sensation called for Red’s attention. A familiar tugging seemed to penetrate his mind. He couldn’t explain it, but it felt as if it were some sort of invitation. He accepted, not letting go of the senator’s consciousness.

  A world expanded around him, and he saw himself become whole again, his psyche
given physical form. Within the blank, three-dimensional vision, his arm remained healthy and unbroken, and he saw others appear as well. David, Sybil, and the Aegis coalesced before him, Sybil looking to the group and seeming to strain.

  “I have brought you together. All of your minds are now connected,” she said, her face revealing a constant effort. “We cannot hope to defeat Dr. Malorius in the physical realm, not with the powers of everyone that he has killed. We must face him here, within this mind. It is the only way to stop him.”

  Red turned as another figure appeared beside them, that of Senator Jack Williams. The old man’s psychic representation looked little like the virile politician Red had come to know. Age had caught up with him, his frame emanating a tired weakness. He stood crippled, his skin grey and shriveled. He shook his head as he came more and more to life.

  “He used me, and I had no idea,” the old man said, small pools of liquid gathering in his grey eyes. “Malorius has been living inside me for years, influencing my every thought and decision.” He put a hand upon his brow, his head shaking. “It must’ve been the gas.”

  Red wasn’t certain that Williams knew what was happening, but he couldn’t wait for the old man to pull himself together. He grabbed the senator and shook, holding him by both shoulders and staring into his eyes. “Concentrate, Jack,” he said. “People are dying. You have to act.”

  Jack’s eyes went wide, but after a moment, he looked down again. Hands came to meet his face. “What can I do now? He’s in control.”

  Red shook him again, shouting. “We have to fight him.”

  “I can’t,” the old man said, shuddering. “He’s too powerful now, feeding off of my alcoholism and regret.” Tears slipped down of his cheeks. “I can’t face him. I’m too weak, too tired.”

  “Try,” Red replied. “You have to try.”

  Chapter Forty-five

  As the congregation came to terms with the reality Sybil had created, darkness swirled among them. It combined into a man shape, and Dr. Malorius stepped from the black cloud, his laugh echoing from all angles. “You think you can defeat me here?” He laughed again, the noise ear-splitting. “This is my mind.”

  “No. It’s not,” Jack said, stepping forward. He appeared old and frail, but duty drove him and authority reentered his tone. For the first time, Red could see the former hero within the senator he had known. “This is my body, and I’m not losing it to the likes of you.”

  “We shall see.”

  With a flip of his cape, Malorius vanished into the waiting darkness. His disappearance triggered a cacophony of eerie noises, like the nighttime sounds of an unexplored jungle. The tumult grew, and more shadowy forms began to emerge.

  A shape, dark and oily, swooped down upon them. It appeared a frightening mixture of vulture and bat, nothing more than a silhouette given nightmarish substance by the mad doctor’s mind. The thing tore a bloody gash in Red’s shoulder before ascending back into the blackness. With its retreat, an entire flock appeared from its origin, following their leader’s example. The mass prepared to dive.

  “Huddle together. Hurry,” the Aegis said. He extended his shield around the group as the shadow-birds descended. Their talons sought flesh, but bounced from his protective bubble. Useless, they vanished in a blink.

  Others took form from the darkness. A faceless horde wielding sharpened tendrils of shadow surrounded the group, beating upon the entire circumference of the Aegis’ force shield. Their groans and murmurs filled everyone’s ears.

  “What are they?” Red wondered aloud.

  “My demons,” Jack said with a hint of sorrow. “Everyone that I have wronged, and those that I have caused to die.”

  The tide of enemies did not dwindle. More and more came, surrounding them like the village mob in a black and white, horror movie. Everything seemed a writhing landscape of hostility.

  The Aegis struggled to keep his shield in place, but the signs of strain were obvious. His audible breathing betrayed his effort, but he did not concede, holding back the mounting pressures. The circumference around them shrank as the mob pushed further.

  David hesitated no longer. “The shield can’t protect us forever,” he shouted. He stepped away from their cluster, punching and kicking a path through the shades. The assault was vigorous and frenzied, but all progress seemed to disappear as quickly as it was made. The horde replenished itself, growing bigger and more fearsome with each generation. The longer he fought, the stronger his enemies became.

  Battling his way beyond the protective wall, David exposed himself to attack. The horde’s members slashed and jabbed, seeking to draw his blood. The Lieutenant fended off most of the violence, but his enemies outnumbered him, and a single gloom blade found his flesh. It struck with surprising force, passing under his clavicle and piercing the skin of his upper back. He exclaimed at the first monster’s withdrawal, and another weapon sliced into his abdomen. Bright red blood became visible as more wounds were opened along his body.

  His offensive slowing, the crowd closed in, cutting him off from the rest of the group and smothering him in their masses. Red’s view of the man narrowed, blocked by more of the oil-black enemies. He started to run to the Lieutenant’s aid, but felt a strong hand holding him back.

  “No, Red,” Senator Williams began, “You’re the one holding me together here.”

  “We have to do something,” Red replied, pleading.

  Jack held the other man’s eyes. “This is my fight, and thanks to you, I can still win it.” He stepped to the edge of the Aegis’ shield bubble, pausing to turn back. “You were right, Red. Family is the only reason to fight. It’s time I earned mine.”

  Jack resumed him course, jumping into the mêlée. With incredible force and skill, the man cleared the area with a few, quick movements. Fighting his way to David’s side, he helped to free the Lieutenant from the black horde.

  “Go back, son,” he said, pulling a dagger from the soldier’s thigh. “This is going to get dangerous.”

  Standing, David looked to Sybil, then back to the senator. His wounds had taken a toll, but steely determination remained in his eyes. “With all due respect, sir, we’re in this together.”

  Jack smiled, nodding. “Then let’s win this together.”

  Hands balled into fists, the old man burst forth into the opposing forces. His movements were quick and strong, leaving a wake of defeated rivals behind him. For a moment, the others simply watched, understanding the grandeur of the hero that he had once been. To see Captain Valour in action, even all these years later, conjured a childish fascination in them all.

  Another group of shadow-beings surrounded the Aegis’ shield, and the moment passed. They too fought for their lives as the things pressed inward. Inhuman hands left imprints along the force wall, and it shrank in response, allowing the toxic tentacles closer and closer to Red and Sybil.

  David wanted to rush back to help them, but a river of enemies had flooded his path. He found himself again surrounded, cut off from any aid. He swung his weighty arms to clear the area, and jetted into the sky. A thousand shadowy hands clamored to hold his feet, to keep him earthbound and immobile, but they lost their grip against his speed. He rose high above the crowd, watching Jack continue to break a trail through them.

  “Help them,” he shouted, pointing to the group. The figures of his allies where now nearly obscured by the overwhelming attackers. They huddled together within the shield, squeezing as best they could while the oil-things jumped and slid down the bubble’s surface. More appeared, and the crowd oozed together, melting to form a black covering over its dome.

  David watched as the mass spread into a dark pool, and looped tentacles rose from its depths. They grew higher, thrashing in the air and becoming so plentiful that even his best maneuvering could not avoid them. The sticky tar clung to him when it struck, pulling him into the grime. He jetted and maneuvered, but his struggles only served to enwrap him further.

  Pulled back t
o the earth, he landed not far from the black dome that imprisoned his friends. More weapons slashed at him, spawning hot shrieks of pain, and sticky tendrils swathed his limbs. Their strength holding him fast, he could do nothing as the lethal shapes approached.

  Jack fought even harder as his friends succumbed, thrusting his knees and elbows against the oncoming mass. He moved with preternatural force, and each of his strikes sent bodies flying, but the oleaginous crowd continued to flow against him. A well-placed strike caught him behind the knee, and the man slipped backwards.

  The enemies rushed him, their midnight liquid infiltrating his nose and throat.

  He managed to return to his feet, choking, but a heavy fist swung from nothingness, plowing him across the jaw. Jack sprawled backward again, falling at the boots of his archrival.

  The horde abated as Dr. Malorius strode to finish his enemy. The senator tried to regain himself, but a lightning-fast kick struck his midsection. Rib bones snapping, the former hero heaved a burdened breath. He coughed and sputtered, attempting to right himself once more.

  Malorius delivered another, two-handed blow to Jack’s spine.

  The senator collapsed, gasping. He rested for moment, then eased himself onto all fours and wiped a trickle of blood from his mouth.

  “You cannot hope to defeat me, Captain,” Malorius said, smiling with satisfaction. “I’ve been in control for far too long.” He landed another brutal blow, sweeping Jack’s limbs from under him and rolling the man onto his back. “You are but a minor distraction now.”

  “You’re right,” Jack groaned, lying there. “I let my guilt and regret overwhelm me, opening myself to your manipulations.” He sat up, looking to the villain. “These kids. Their blood is on my hands.” He rose unsteadily, shaking his head. Pools glimmered at the bottom of his eyes. “I can’t make up for what I’ve done. Or for what you’ve done through me.”