“How can you be?” she yelled. “I don't even know what side I'm on. I don't even know what the sides are anymore!”
Connor let go, looking confused. “What's going on? Why are you freaking out?”
“I'm not freaking out.” Lucy paused shaking her head. “Or maybe I am. But so what? Maybe I should be freaking out. Maybe that's like... the exact right response, you know? Maybe we should all be freaking out. Maybe then something would be done about all this instead of everyone just standing around and waiting for the Imperator to decide who lives and who dies and when the war begins and ends.”
Connor took a moment and let her breathe before he spoke again. The TV continued its speeches about the glory of the Empire and the honorable sacrifice that our men and women in the military were making. Connor grabbed the remote and hit the mute button.
“What are you doing?” Lucy asked as she spun around and grabbed for the remote.
Connor held it away from her and said, “Lucy, it's completely normal to feel helpless in these situations. There are things that are happening in this world that are bigger than both of us. Instead of trying to change the world, you need to focus on your world and the changes you can make here.”
Lucy stared at him for a few seconds before she burst out laughing. Connor looked even more confused by her reaction.
“What? What did I say?”
Lucy kept laughing, trying to catch her breath, waving her hand in the air. “I'm sorry. Really. That was... that was a nice thing to say.”
“You're laughing at me.”
“I know. I'm sorry. It's just... you have no idea how wrong you are.”
Connor cocked his head to the side, looking a little upset. “Oh yeah? How so?”
Lucy collected herself and sat down on the bed. The laughter had actually broken her out of the spell the TV had cast on her. She felt like, if just for a few minutes, her head was clearer.
“Connor... what if I told you that I could put an end to the war. What if I told you it was within my power to change the entire world, that it was up to me who won.”
“What would I say?”
“Yeah.”
“Before or after I questioned your sanity?”
Lucy chuckled, but then nudged him with her elbow. “I'm being serious. If I could change the world. If I could end this war. Do you think I should?”
Connor thought about it for a moment, then shook his head. “I don't really think I understand the question. How would you even do something like that?”
Lucy shook her head. “That's the thing. If I could... does it really matter how? Should I be willing to do whatever it takes in order to put an end to this violence and destruction? No matter what?”
“No matter what?” Conner asked, taken aback by the gravity of those words. “I don't even like to consider the idea that the ends justify the means. That'll lead you down a dangerous path.”
Lucy nodded her head as she contemplated her options. She wished she could talk to him about it, openly and honestly, but the secrecy she was sworn to in the Shadow Department forced her to talk around the issue. How could she explain to him the moral dilemma she was facing without talking about the specific lives that were at stake?
She looked up at the screen and saw a woman holding her baby. The baby's arms were flopping around, lifeless, as the woman screamed for someone to help her. When Lucy saw that image, or any image of the horrifying reality of war, she had to question how she could think that one life was worth the thousands, possibly millions, of innocent lives that were being lost.
Then the face of Katsu Oshiro appeared, standing next to his wife. It made everything far too real. The man was an actual person. A living, breathing person. He was perfectly safe, perfectly happy, and the only person that could end all of that, was her. No matter who pulled the trigger or ignited the bomb or tore his head from his body, it would be her that found the doorway for Voyager to open. She was two steps removed from the actual murder, yet she felt like the blood would stain her forever.
Her stomach lurched and she ran for the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before vomit came pouring from her mouth. Connor rushed to the door behind her.
“Are you okay?”
She didn't want him to see her like that, but when she opened her mouth to tell him to go away, another round of puke forced her face into the toilet bowl. She felt his hands pull back the hair from her face while she vomited a third time. She gasped for breath, trying to spit out the terrible taste from her mouth.
“It's okay. It's okay,” Connor kept repeating softly, still holding her hair with one hand and rubbing her back with the other.
“Oh god,” she moaned. “Sorry. This is so gross.”
“Are you sick?” he asked. “Have you not been feeling well? I can help you to the medical wing.”
“No, no. I'm fine. Just... nerves, I think.”
“Nerves?” Connor asked skeptically as he helped her to her feet.
She splashed water on her face from the sink and rinsed out her mouth. “I just... I have a lot on my mind. My responsibility to the Shadow Department has been like... weighing on me, I guess.”
“Is that what this is all about? Are they asking you to do something for the war effort?” He stopped and his eyes grew twice as large. “Lucy... are they asking you to fight in the war?”
“No. Not really...” She shook her head. “You know I can't talk about it.”
“Lucy, if they're trying to put you on the battlefield, you need to tell me. We need to-”
“What? We need to what? What would we do, Connor? You want to run away? Go AWOL? Get put on the supervillain watch list?”
He looked at her seriously. “I would do whatever it took to keep you safe. No matter the consequences.”
She smiled, knowing he meant every word. She reached up and cupped his cheek in the palm of her hand, rubbing it gently.
“I know you would. But it's not like that. They aren't fitting me for a uniform. They aren't flying me to the front lines. You know that's not how the Shadow Department works.”
“So what are they having you do? Some kind of spy stuff? Sneaking around and taking pictures?”
She poked him in the chest with every word. “I. Can't. Talk. About. It.”
Connor looked down at her hand, defeated. “You'd tell me if you were in danger, right?”
Lucy glanced at the TV and saw a video of robotic aircraft shooting across the sky, dropping bombs on a neighborhood far below. The entire section of the city was reduced to fire and smoke within seconds.
“Connor, as long as this war is going on... I'm afraid we're all in danger.”
12
WESLEY
Morning came with a startling shudder. Wesley hadn't even realized he had closed his eyes when the scraping sound of the doorway opening rattled him awake. Zola stepped through the entrance, looking down upon him with a blank stare.
“Are you ready?”
Wesley rubbed his face, trying to force his senses awake, and slid his glasses on. “Yes. Wait. Ready for what?”
“To meet the God-King Kgosi.”
Wesley scrambled to his feet, brushing himself off and straightening his frazzled hair. “Seriously? Now? He wants to meet me now?”
A smirk appeared on the corner of her lips, so tiny that if he hadn't been paying attention, he would have missed it. “I told him about your... stubbornness. He is eager to meet you.”
“O-okay,” Wesley said stammering as he hurried to her side. “Is there anything I need to know? What should I do? What shouldn't I do?”
Zola turned away from him and exited the room. Wesley hurried after, following her down a long stone hallway cut into the mountain. Flickering torches lined the walls, creating a hypnotic dance of shadows that swirled around them. They passed many wooden doors, none of them marked in any way. The passageway twisted and turned deeper into the mountain, and he could feel the temperature drop with every few feet they trav
eled.
“You should remain open to his wisdom. That is all he asks. If you are a true believer of his grand intelligence, if you accept his transcendent truth, then you will be welcome.”
Wesley nodded his head as he hurried his feet to keep up with her quick steps. “I've read a little about the teachings on the internet. I know your practices stem from Neijing. And I know-”
Zola stopped and spun around, her pointed finger jamming into his chest. “You would be wise to forget what you think you know. Empty your mind. That is the only way for Kgosi to fill it.”
Wesley nodded, hoping he hadn't already messed up. He made a mental note to keep his mouth shut unless he was asked a question. That would leave him with less room for error.
When they arrived at the end of the long passageway, Wesley saw a single wooden door. A torch was lit on either side of the door, but the thing that was most odd was the heat that emanated from the room on the other side. He found himself embraced by the humid air as Zola stepped up and flung open the door, revealing the inner sanctum of the God-King Kgosi.
The room was full of fire. Enormous fireplaces surrounded the walls, filled with piles of wood, ablaze with flames. Torches covered the walls, reaching across the domed ceiling. Zola motioned for Wesley to enter, so he pushed past the nearly unbreathable air that clung to him, and stepped through the doorway.
The second thing he noticed, once he was inside, was the large group of half-naked women that lounged around the circular room on multi-colored pillows. Some feasted on bowls of fruit and bread, others puffed on large water-pipes, their eyes glazed over by the inebriating smoke. Most of them sat in front of Wesley without bashfulness that their breasts were clearly exposed. Wesley had seen a naked woman before, but he still diverted his eyes to the floor.
He did not look up until the doors on the other side of the room opened. Entering through the room was an old, frail man, his pale flesh making him look more like a skeleton than a human. His body looked as if it were bent and crooked, twisted into a shape that might not be able to move, but he floated through the air, his legs bent under him like he was sitting upon an invisible throne.
The man paid little attention to Wesley as his eyes gazed around the room. Fruit floated through the air with ease, toward the old man's mouth. When his jaw lowered, Wesley could see the gray teeth inside, and the pasty tongue that slathered around them, salivating at the sight of food. When he had consumed a few grapes, his eyes fluttered as if his body had received the energy it desperately needed to go on.
“My God-King,” Zola said, stepping past Wesley and falling to both knees with her arms outstretched on the floor in front of her. “I present to you the boy I spoke of. He has traveled from the domain of the American Republic to meet with you.”
Wesley glanced back and forth between Zola and the frail man, shocked that the creature in front of him could be the wise mentor he sought, and also wondering if he should be falling to his knees as well. Before he could act, a whisper fought its way out from deep inside the God-King, rolling from his mouth as a breath.
“My Zola says you have the power of the mind.”
Wesley adjusted his glasses, thinking he should clarify, but chose to remain silent.
“She also says it is weak. Like a child.”
Wesley flinched at the description, but decided to show him instead of speaking. He glanced across the room, toward one of the half-naked women holding a bowl of fruit. He grimaced, pushing his mental strength toward the bowl, and wrapped his thoughts around a single grape. He snatched the grape from a cluster, yanking it free, then floated it across the room toward the God-King. When the grape neared the old man, he felt a tug against his own mind as Kgosi grabbed the piece of fruit with his own mental power and squished it in mid-air.
“Is that it?” Kgosi asked. “Is this all you are capable of?”
Wesley glanced at Zola, hoping for some kind of silent advice as to how he should proceed, but she offered him nothing. He decided to bow down himself, onto both knees, and stretch out his arms, just as she did.
“That, and my devotion to your teachings. I hope that with your guidance, my power may become greater than it is now.”
Another wheezing laugh proceeded Kgosi's words. “You hope? That does not sound like devotion, boy. If you are to live with us, if you are to learn from me, the entirety of your being must be consumed by my wisdom.”
His voice grew beyond the size of his form, filling the room like the declaration from a trumpet. “I am the mental absolute!”
His proclamation was instantly followed by the entire room of people pounding their fists upon the floor with each chant of, “Veritas! Veritas! Veritas!”
“I am the prime mind!”
“Veritas! Veritas! Veritas!”
“I am the thought perfection!”
“Veritas! Veritas! Veritas!”
The room fell silent after the last chant, the women returning to smoking their water-pipes and nibbling on their fruit and bread. Zola crawled from her bowing position to her feet, so Wesley followed her lead, standing upright in front of the God-King.
“Do you know what that word means?” Kgosi asked, his thin fingers wiggling in the air. “Do you recognize the word Veritas?”
Wesley did. He had studied a bit of Latin when he was younger, interested in the root of the imperial language.
He bowed his head. “It means... truth.”
Kgosi's laughter grew this time, though it sounded more pleased than a mocking tone. “That's right! But do you know why they chant it? Do you know why they respond in this way?”
Wesley stopped himself from shrugging his shoulders. The answer seemed obvious and he wondered if he was being tested.
“They use that word, because they believe what you say to be the truth.” Then he remembered something Zola had said and added, “More than truth.”
Kgosi's eyes grew wide and he pulled a thin smile across his face. “More than truth! That is exactly right. This is what my followers believe. Every word I speak is the truth. It is truer than what you see with your eyes, or taste with your tongue, or feel with your flesh.”
Wesley adjusted his glasses as he wondered how much of what the man was saying was for Wesley's understanding, and how much was to stroke his own ego. It was hard to believe this man was who he said he was, yet all these people bent to his will, with no sign of struggle or forced behavior. They willingly bowed down to him, hungry for more of his teachings.
“Do you believe this?” Kgosi asked.
Wesley looked around nervously, not sure of the meaning of his question. He mumbled something, but corrected himself and began to stammer.
“I... I think... I mean, I feel like... I...”
Kgosi's laughter hissed again, filling the chamber before he caught his breath and said, “Of course you don't believe me! You barely believe in yourself!”
“No!” Wesley said with a panicked interjection. “That's not true. I mean... I just... I don't know the truth that you speak. I don't know enough about what you say to tell you what I believe. But... I want to believe.”
Kgosi's crooked form relaxed into seated position in mid-air, a gentle smile finding its resting place upon his lips. “This is a good answer.”
Wesley took a deep breath, letting go of his panic. Perhaps he would find his way through this interview. Perhaps all wasn't lost quite yet.
Kgosi turned his gaze toward Zola and asked, “You say he waited in front of our door, all night?”
Zola nodded. “When I saw the extent of his powers, I turned him away, but he would not take 'no' for an answer. He chose freezing to death over failure.”
Kgosi reached up as far as he could with his frail arm, pointing a single finger straight into the air. “Then you have already taken your first step. You have already accepted my first teaching, without even knowing it.”
Kgosi managed to lift both arms into the air and declared, “Forego your body, for your strength i
s within your mind. Deny the pleasures of the flesh, deny the needs of the external, for your thoughts will bring you all that you need.”
Wesley rolled the words around in his mind, but could not make sense of them. The man's followers clearly indulged in all kinds of pleasures of the flesh.
“You question me?” the old man asked.
Wesley was startled by the question, nervously looking around as he tried to deny his true thoughts. “No. Of course not. I just mean... I don't understand. Everyone here-”
“They are the followers. They will only follow me. You are the student. I am the teacher. My lessons are for you, so that you may become me.”
Zola flinched when he spoke those words, but Wesley didn't understand why.
“You chose to let go of your body because your mind needed my wisdom,” Kgosi said. “That was your first step into the power of the psionic. But the journey is long. There is a lifetime of steps ahead of you. Are you sure you are ready for this odyssey of the mind?”
Wesley did not want to show hesitation, so his answer was quick, and without contemplation.
“Yes.”
The pleasure that filled Kgosi's smile was pure and satisfying. “Then I say this: Wesley Lockhart, you are now a part of our family.”
The women that filled the room pounded on the floor again and began to chant, but this time, Wesley joined them.
“Veritas! Veritas! Veritas!”
Yet, just like his belief in the God-King, he wasn't sure if it was real.
But he wanted it to be.
Desperately.
13
CARMEN
Her ribs threatened to snap in half as the two servant girls pulled the straps of her corset in opposite directions. Her breath was pushed from her lungs and she was thrown forward, gripping onto the edge of the vanity to keep herself upright.
“You're going to have to do better than that, dear. Keep inhaling. We can do another inch or two.”
Carmen glared at Magda's reflection in the mirror, but her soon-to-be mother-in-law took no notice. She was flipping through a MajesTech tablet, checking off a to-do list that needed to be done before the ceremony. Magda's robes rivaled her own wedding dress in sheer beauty. Black and gold swirled with a marble-like natural flow, giving her a look of elegance as well as fortitude.
Rise of the Supervillains Page 9
