“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.
“Yeah, get Blake,” Ralph said, waving his hand at the house. “Blake!” he cried out again.
Stella shook her head. “Ralph, Blake ran away from home weeks ago. He’s not here.”
“Oh geez, sorry,” one of the men said,” Well, uh, we can get him in the house for you.”
“That little shit,” Ralph said, belching. Blake noticed his father’s body tense as he grabbed his stomach and winced. “That little bast…” Violent vomit finished the sentence as Ralph hurled semi-digested beer, burgers, fries, and whiskey all over the walkway. The two men freaked out and dropped him. He landed on all fours, puking his guts out on the front walkway.
Blake sighed as his mom went back into the house to get a towel.
When the upchuck turned to dry heaves, she tried to wipe his mouth, but he brusquely dismissed her.
Ten minutes later, the men brought Ralph into the house and Blake assumed they settled him into his recliner. After, Stella escorted them back to their car, expressing her gratitude while rubbing her arms to stay warm. When they had driven away, she stared into the night sky and spoke to it. “Oh Blakey, I hope you found something better.” Then, she sighed and walked back into the house, locking the door behind her.
Blake put his head
down, resting his forehead on his arms.
Then, he cried.
❖
Victor
“What have you got for me?” Victor asked, walking into the Androscoggin control room.
“Look at the these readings,” Arek said, pointing to the monitors that displayed a simulation of the Rangeley facility’s collection with the proposed panel reconfiguration.
Victor studied the readout. Whoa, you guys were right!
Miguel looked at him and smiled triumphantly.
“Is this the configuration we had before Dark Flame rearranged the panels?”
“Nope,” Miguel answered. “We believe this represents the original design specifications. Somewhere in the reactor’s history, someone rearranged—or sabotaged—the panel layout to a configuration that deliberately decreased the orgone conversion process.”
“So panel position actually matters?”
“What once took months to collect and convert will now take days or hours under the right conditions.”
“That’s the efficiency gain?” Victor asked, astounded.
They both nodded, and Arek spoke. “Yes, and in a few weeks, we’ll have the larger panel analysis complete. We’ll be able to replicate this in all the reactors.”
Victor smiled at them. “Excellent.”
3-13 | 88 Miles Per Hour
Quinn
THE NEXT DAY, QUINN WOKE up before dawn in an exceptionally good mood and decided to join his dad for a morning run around Portsmouth to catch the sunrise. When they returned five miles and forty-five minutes later, Dad switched on the wireless sound system and cranked up the dance anthems. Then, he proceeded to make them protein shakes in the kitchen.
“Aren’t you afraid of waking Daddio up?” Quinn asked over the loud music.
Dad smiled wickedly and shook his head. “Nope.”
Quinn grinned.
A minute later, Daddio marched into the kitchen in pajama pants and wrapped his hands around his husband’s neck, pretending to throttle him. “Why must you torture me with dance anthems this early in the morning?”
“That’s what you get for hogging the bed last night.”
Quinn chuckled.
Daddio rolled his eyes and announced breakfast would be ready in twenty minutes. “Now, sashay away and go clean your healthy, sweaty, and disgusting selves off before eating my good, clean food.”
Quinn fist-bumped his dad, grabbed his shake, and then headed upstairs to preen.
With I Wanna Dance With Somebody blaring on the wireless speaker in his bathroom, Quinn danced in the shower as he washed and sang along with Whitney Houston, using the shampoo bottle as a pretend microphone. Quinn dried off after showering and wrapped the towel around his waist. After wiping the steam from the foggy bathroom mirror, he flexed and admired his orgone-induced muscular tone in the mirror. He smiled when he saw the shiny silver ring Keegan had given him the night before.
After Dad dropped him off at school, Quinn formed a line with the other students and made his way through the security gauntlet of DHS agents. The dogs hesitated on him again, but he pulled out the beef jerky and the agent waved him through. He smirked and made his way into the cafeteria to meet up with his friends.
Loren had arrived first and was engrossed in one of his smutty novels. When she saw him coming, she smiled and tucked the novel into his backpack.
Quinn joined her at their usual spot and sat down, feeling hyper and very happy. She studied him carefully with her puffy, early-morning eyes.
“What’s got you all smiles?” Loren asked, raising an eyebrow.
Quinn shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know, it’s just a great day today.”
She spotted the silver ring on his finger and pointed. “What’s that?”
Quinn blushed. “It’s…”
“Oh my gosh!” Loren gushed. “You’re not…”
“Wait, let me finish!” Quinn said, excitedly cutting her off. “Keegan got us boyfriend rings.
“Aww, that’s so sweet,” Loren said, fanning himself.
“What’s so sweet?” Ravone asked, walking around the table. She dropped her heavy book bag on the floor.
Quinn flashed his ring hand and wiggled his fingers. “Keegan got us matching boyfriend rings.”
Ravone rolled her eyes and smiled widely. “Does it get any gayer with you two?”
“Hey!” Quinn exclaimed, laughing. “He’s romantic and sweet, just what my little heart desires.”
“Well, good,” she said smirking. “I’m happy for you.”
“How are you and your mystery man doing?” Loren blurted out.
Ravone glared at her. “Loren! You weren’t supposed to say anything.”
Quinn looked quickly between the two of them. “A mystery man? And you’re not saying anything? What are we, keeping secrets now?” His right eye quivered and slammed shut as he sensed Blake approaching the school parking lot. He’s been coming to school almost every day…I suppose that’s good, right?
“Look, I don’t want to cause a fuss,” Ravone said, her face becoming cross.
“Aha! You are seeing someone,” Quinn exclaimed, confirming his suspicions.
Ravone glared at him with eyes that could melt steel. “No, I’m not. I tried to make it work, but it all fell apart.”
“Make what work?” Quinn asked, intrigued.
She sighed. “You were right,” Ravone said with defeat. “Blake will never be my boyfriend. His unresolved anger issues only got me hurt in the end.”
“You’ve been talking with Blake?” Quinn asked incredulously. Sadness filled his heart and Loren looked between the two of them with concern.
“A little, but not much. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to hurt you. I know how much it bothers you to think about him and I just thought…I don’t know what I thought. Clearly, I was wrong, and I’m sorry.”
Quinn swallowed. “What happened? Did he physically hurt you, Ravone?” If he hurt her, I’ll…I don’t know what I’ll do…
“Did he hit me, you mean? No. We had a date, but he acted all weird and indifferent toward me. Darien showed up and they almost got in a fist-fight. Then he had some kind of weird seizure or something and after that, Blake ditched me.”
Quinn narrowed his eyes. A seizure? That’s not Blake. If something—like a control chip—is malfunctioning in his brain, that might explain what’s going on with Blake. He’s definitely an angry kid but this evil person he’s becoming…that’s so far out of his character…or is it? So, how did Darien get hurt?
“Does that have something to do with how Darien broke his arm?” Quinn asked, nodding his head toward the cafeteria entrance.
“He deserved it,” Ravone snapped. “No, he um, broke his arm after he left the park. He decided to run in front of a dump truck on Marcy Street.”
Or he was pushed… Quinn dismissed the idea, refusing to believe Blake was capable of nearly murdering a classmate…but it lingered in the back of his mind.
Ravone shrugged and nodded her head to something behind Quinn. He turned as Keegan walked over to them with a wide grin across his face. Allowing his mind to drift away from Blake, he stood to greet his boyfriend, kissing him deeply and completely forgetting about the student body around them. Some of the students wolf-whistled and clapped. Quinn pulled back and laughed, blushing.
“Ha! So, that’s why you guys are in such a good mood,” Loren said knowingly, wagging her hand between the two of them.
“What gives? What do you mean?” Ravone asked, eyeing them both with great interest. “You two seem way too happy for the morning, especially with all the agents and security running around the school.”
Quinn shrugged, unable to take his eyes off Keegan. “I don’t know, just a good night I guess.”
“Just a good night?” Ravone echoed.
Oops, that’s not what I meant to say. The boys giggled, blushing yet again. Then, they sat down, unable to wipe the beaming, silly grins from their faces.
>
Quinn turned to Ravone and winked. “I guess I’m not the only one keeping secrets.”
Ravone rolled her eyes and smirked. “Uh-huh. So, did you guys notice they cut back on security a little?
“I did,” Keegan answered. “I didn’t get harassed on the way into school this morning. I’ll be glad when they catch Blue Spekter, so life can go back to normal.”
Quinn winced but nodded in feigned agreement. How the hell do I persuade you that Blue Spekter is a good guy? That I’m a good guy?
The bell rang, signaling it was time to move to first period. “Well, see you guys later,” Ravone said, sighing. “I’m off to meet destiny.”
They exchanged goodbyes and Quinn went to first period. After his third morning class, Quinn meandered through the hallways to the library. He needed to study for a possible U.S. History pop-quiz he learned about in third period. He settled in and re-read the pertinent chapter in his textbook.
About twenty minutes later, his super hearing found its way to a hushed conversation between two teachers on the other side of the library; they spoke about something on Interstate 95.
Should I listen in, or should I ignore them?
Curiosity got the better of him and he eavesdropped on their conversation, quickly learning of a car chase happening right now. He discreetly pulled his phone from his pocket and checked the local news. With shots already fired, local police and state troopers were struggling to catch a supercharged getaway car and the police helicopter hadn’t arrived on scene yet, although a civilian was following the chase in his private copter and radioing in to police dispatch. The occupants of the car had successfully robbed an armored car in Maine and were heading south on the interstate through New Hampshire toward Massachusetts.
Am I supposed to leave school now and go save the day? I’m a kid! It’s not like I’m Superman and I can just leave the Daily Planet whenever I want to, right? Or, maybe I can…
Remembering his conversation with Ron prior to saving his four classmates from the freezing waters of the Piscataqua River, Quinn took a deep breath and packed up his school bag. Then, he quickly made his way to his locker and shoved the book bag inside, slamming the door shut. Footsteps behind him caught his attention as two agents rounded the corner and walked past him, only glancing at him before ignoring him completely, too engrossed in their conversation. He paused, then, put his wallet and phone into his locker and locked it.
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