Enigma Black

by Sara Furlong-Burr

  “So,” MaKayla began, “who was Ms. America?”

  “Her name is Paige, and she seems like a nice girl.”

  “I don’t like her.”

  “MaKayla!” Carrie exclaimed.

  “You don’t even know her. How can you possibly say you don’t like her?”

  “Because she’s not Celaine.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  The Vendetta

  It had been a close call, one that would never happen again. As he rested, recuperating from his injuries, The Man In Black couldn’t help but wonder whether that woman could actually stand a chance against him. Had she listened to her partner, had she not exhibited the foolish behavior that she had, she could have possibly outdone the others who‘d come before her. He shuddered at the thought of someone being able to stop him, someone being able to take him down before he could accomplish his ultimate goal.

  He forced himself up out of the bed centered in his immaculate master bedroom in the three-bedroom apartment of which he lived alone. Pain shot up his side. He grunted in response, gripping it in a shallow attempt at comfort. The wound where the bullet had pierced his flesh remained very tender, but he still continued to refuse the pain killers being pushed on him regardless. There was something about physical pain that invigorated him, that made him feel strangely more alive. His caretakers had done such a wonderful job with ensuring his survival. Of course, they benefited immensely from it, too. It was a true symbiotic relationship. His armor would be repaired, his wound would heal, and he would return, better than ever.

  She was one of the select few who’d been able to draw blood from him, and she would also be the last. Just as her predecessors, she would pay the price for having wounded him. Sooner or later, it always happened. Her partner’s death, however satisfied it had made him, wasn’t anything he could gloat over, for his fate had been handed to him on a silver platter the second he decided to save her pathetic life. The affections of men ultimately lead to their downfalls.

  Now, she would get a new partner, for that was how it seemed to work with them. Recruit. Train. Fight. Die. It was a variable revolving door of would-be superheroes being thrown his way. Still, the woman was good, and she definitely had some sort of ax to grind with him, some sort of vendetta the source of which he must uncover if he was to gain the upper hand.

  Pain tore through his body at levels that would bring a normal person to their knees in repentance. Limping, he walked down the hallway to his kitchen, rummaging through the cupboards until he found a coffee mug. Grabbing a pitcher from the same cabinet, he filled it with water from the sink, pouring it methodically into the coffee maker. The night before, he’d poured the remaining coffee grounds into the filter in anticipation of a new day, a day closer to the first day of the rest of his life.

  As the coffee percolated, he walked over to his window, staring through the glass at the world outside in disgust. Soon, very soon, it would all change. Soon, he would enjoy the view outside his window. It would reflect a world of order in which he would rule, a world where everyone would be too afraid and too defenseless to stop him.

  Hanging on the wall behind him was a lone painting, an abstract whose black and red lines curved with purposeful chaos on the canvas. The painting reminded him of himself in the way its strokes carefully manipulated their way around their fabricated world. He was the black streak on the canvas, perfectly blending in with the dance of humanity until finally overtaking it just as the black consumed the red in the portrait. Like the black, he would leave nothing more than a smattering of red in his wake

  The smell of coffee wafted through the air, perking up his senses. His thirst for violence had been quenched for now, but he could already feel the urge emerging from deep within him again. Every once in a while was not going to be enough to satisfy him for too much longer. The attacks would soon have to be spaced closer together, ensuring more and more casualties each time.

  He stretched his robotic arms, feeling his joints crack. There was a heavy price to pay when attacks didn’t go according to plan. Many pieces of his body had not come from their original biologic assembly line. Thankfully, the faux skin-like covering made those areas that lacked organic flesh virtually unnoticeable. He could walk amongst the crowds without drawing any attention on himself.

  The coffeemaker beeped, alerting him that his caffeine fix was done brewing. He poured the first cup, returning to his spot at the window. Ah, Washington, D.C. in the early morning. Ironic that he chose to live in the very place that stood as a symbol for freedom. Freedom. The thought of it made him laugh. No one was ever truly free. Like it or not, everyone was under someone else’s thumb. Whether it be bosses, spouses, or the law, there’s always someone or something present to rob people of what they thought they still had. For that’s what society truly needed, a ruler. Without someone telling them what to do and when to do it, humanity would surely crumble. Yes, very soon they would look at Washington, D.C. in a very different light. Very soon, it would be known as a symbol of their oppression and the death of life and liberty as they knew it. When that time came, the black would overcome the red

  As hard as he tried, he couldn’t get her out of his mind. The woman superhero who’d looked at him with such determination, with such fearlessness. Never before had he felt as though someone could equal him. Sure, she was just as awkward as a baby bird leaving the nest the first time, but soon, very soon, she would take flight. And he would have to clip her wings before that happened. She was a bad habit that needed to be nipped in the bud, and he knew just the way to do it.

  A demonic smile spread across his face as he regaled in the carnage he would create. There would be blood spilled. He would celebrate in her exsanguination after she witnessed the torture and death of all those she cared about, for he now had his own vendetta to fulfill with her.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  The Changing of the Guards

  To say that Ian was excited to begin his transformation was an understatement. Even with the risk of death present, it still couldn’t happen fast enough for him. He’d acclimatised nicely to his new home, having known what to expect from my answers to the seemingly million questions he’d posed to me on the ride back to the Epicenter. I was happy to answer them, thankful that the focus of the conversation stayed away from any talk of our personal lives. The only person who didn’t seem to be instantly taken with him was Cameron, who I assumed saw him as more competition for attention than anything else. I likened it to a male dominance issue and figured that they’d either eventually duke it out or mark their territory like the grown men they were.

  Any awkwardness had been successfully avoided until we were all seated at dinner the night before Ian’s procedure.

  “So,” Cameron began, inciting Kara to roll her eyes. Whenever Cameron began a sentence with the phrases ‘so’ or ‘did you know‘, whatever followed could be counted on to tread the fine line between insightful and inappropriate. “So, did Celaine tell you about Blake?”

  Ian looked puzzled. We’d briefly skimmed over the prospect of there having been others like me, but I hadn’t offered up any detailed information on the subject. I gave Cameron the evil eye coupled with what I hoped was an I’m-going-to-get-you-for-this look on my face.

  Ian focused his gaze in my direction. “Who’s Blake?” His tone of voice seemed more concerned now than curious.

  “He was my partner.”

  “Oh,” he paused. “Where is he now? Did he quit or something?”

  “Not exactly.” I stuck a fork full of mashed potatoes into my mouth with the hope that it would delay the conversation enough so the current subject would be dropped in favor of another topic. Desperately, I looked to Kara to intercede, but Cameron beat her to the punch.

  “Blake was killed saving Celaine. It seems as though he had a little bit of a crush on her.” I looked straight ahead, continuing to eat my dinner even as I felt Ian’s eyes boring through the side of my face. “His feelings
got the best of him.” I really wished Cameron would shut up.

  “Well,” Ian responded, “you don’t have to worry about that with me. I’m never going to look at my partner in anything more than a professional way.”

  Cameron snickered.

  “Ditto,” I replied, obviously surprising Ian. Surely, no woman had ever turned him down before.

  As we returned to what I hoped would be normal conversation, I glanced at our dysfunctional family dinner table, noticing an obvious absence. “Where’s Victor?” I asked.

  “I’m not really sure,” Kara replied. “I think he’s out doing a couple of personal errands or whatnot. He’s not here all the time like the rest of us.”

  “But he will be here tomorrow…right?” Ian was overly concerned with his operation going precisely as planned.

  “He’d better,” Marcus added from the other end of the table. “He had me working all night last night on putting together a suit for you so that your training could begin as soon as possible.”

  Ian nodded, a look of obvious relief overcoming his face.

  ****

  As I lay in bed that night with the soothing visage of Niagara Falls hovering over me, it became apparent that sleep wasn’t going to take pity on me. My adrenaline levels remained elevated from the events of the past few days. Eventually, those levels would begin their descent downwards, but until they did, I would remain the definition of restless. On top of everything else, I hadn’t seen Chase since before the explosion, which made me nervous. Even though I knew he hadn’t been among the dead, I still needed the peace of mind that only seeing him alive would bring. Throwing my legs over the side of the bed, I got up and began the walk down the hallway to the garage when a voice from behind stopped me.

  “Where are you going?”

  I turned around to see Ian standing in the hall next to his room. He’d been assigned to Blake’s old room, something that didn’t set well with me.

  “Out,” I replied as I turned to keep walking.

  Behind me I heard Ian’s footsteps following my path, prompting me to swing back around to face him. “Ian, you really should try to get some sleep. You have a long day tomorrow and, as I’m sure they’ve explained to you, tonight could be the last time you will ever have a measurable amount of sleep as long as you’re here.”

  “Seriously, Celaine, do you honestly think I can sleep right now?”

  “Probably not, but you should try.”

  “Come on. Why so secretive? I mean, we are going to be partners, right?”

  “Right. We are going to be partners. At this very moment, we aren’t partners, and even when you officially hold that title, you only embody it when we’re on assignment. Not during the off time.”

  “Working with you is going to be fun.”

  “It’s work; it’s not supposed to be fun.”

  Ian eyed me up and down. “So, is that the fabled suit you’re wearing?”

  “That it is.”

  “Is mine going to be that tight? It seems like it would constrict the junk a little.”

  “I’m sure you have nothing to worry about.” I winked at Ian and headed back down the hall toward the garage.

  ****

  The small beam of light from the motorcycle’s headlight was all I had to rely on to navigate me through the pitch black roadways that lead to Chase’s apartment. Upon reaching the city, I parked in the same alleyway as I had before, again scaling the fire escape, jumping from rooftop to rooftop until I came upon the one I was looking for. The light was on in Chase’s room. With Hope Memorial in shambles and it being past curfew, I figured the likelihood of him being home was probably pretty high. Not to mention, I knew him like the back of my hand. His predictability was unfaltering. I looked up to the night sky in the off chance that the clouds had broken up enough to again reveal the stars as it had done the last time I was here. No such luck. The cloud cover was unrelenting tonight.

  My fingers grasped the necklace that hung around my neck as though the heart attached to it were my very own, the latter skipping a beat as a shadow in Chase’s bedroom announced his presence. There was something different about him, something that hadn’t been there the last time I saw him. It was as if a new sense of purpose had overcome him. He was…happy. Yes, that was it. He seemed far happier than he had the last time I’d seen him. A smile spread across my tear streaked face. It was everything I’d wanted for him since I left. If he could be happy without me, maybe there was a chance that I could be happy without him, too.

  “Not likely,” I sighed, clutching the heart charm.

  He leaned over to pick up something from his bedside table I recognized as being his cell phone. Whatever it was that was on that cell phone only made his mood that much sunnier. He hit a button on the phone to make a call, beaming when the person on the other end picked up. Whoever he was speaking with, made him happy, and even though that was what I wanted, the selfish side of me just hoped that whoever it was he was talking to wasn’t trying to fill the imprint I had made on his heart.

  ****

  He called her. It was awkward and incredibly uncomfortable, but he called her. And he was relieved when his call went straight to voicemail. Over the last two years, he’d been bathed in the comfort of Celaine. Dating her had been so easy, so effortless. Even in the beginning, there was something about her that’d made him feel at ease. That was how he’d known she was the one for him, and that was why he’d spent the last three hours searching for her on every search engine imaginable. Not surprisingly, he’d come up empty-handed with each click of the mouse taking him from one dead end to another. He thought he knew Celaine; he thought he knew what she wanted out of life.

  Her sudden departure made him rethink relationships to the point where he gave up trying to understand them completely. What feelings were normal? What feelings weren’t normal? Who was the one? Who wasn’t the one? All of that was thrown out the window. For now, he would just go where the wind took him and attempt to regain the happiness he’d lost.

  He was tired, his eyes strained from having been glued to the screen of his laptop. Tomorrow, he was going to Grace University Hospital to assist with the overflow of patients from Hope Memorial. One thing he loved about pediatrics was the way his patients tended to bond with him. There’d been a near riot at Grace University when a few of them were first moved there and told that he would no longer be their physician. Their protests were so intense that he’d received a phone call a couple of days after the explosion asking him if he would be willing to donate some of his time to assure his patients that he wasn’t going anywhere. For the first time since Celaine, he finally had something in his life that’d made him smile from ear to ear.

  Before going to bed, he checked his phone again. A missed call indicated that Paige had returned his call. He looked at the clock and, seeing that it wasn’t too awfully late, he decided to call her back.

  “Hey!” she nearly squealed, answering his call on the first ring. “I was so excited when you called the first time that when I called you back and you didn’t answer, I thought it was some kind of fluke.”

  A smile overspread his face. “I’m sorry I didn’t catch your call. I was…working.”

  “Oh, that’s okay. I completely understand. I imagine you must be pretty busy, you know, being a doctor and all.”

  “Yeah, it has its days.” Guilt began to overcome him.

  “I’ll bet it does. So…what’s your schedule like this week? Are you still up for that coffee?”

  “Definitely. In fact, I was going to ask you what you were doing on Saturday afternoon at about one.”

  “Having coffee with a very handsome doctor.”

  He blushed. “Well, okay then. There’s this café that I frequent about a half mile down from Hope Memorial on Azalea St.”

  “Yeah. I think I know which one you’re talking about. Meet you there at one o’clock on Saturday then?”

  “I’ll be there.”

  �
��Great!” she squealed again, forcing him to pull the phone away from his ear to protect his eardrums, “It’s a date, then?”

  He wasn’t sure if that last sentence was a question or a statement. “It’s a date. I’ll see you on Saturday.”

  He set the phone back down on the nightstand and sat on the corner of his bed, rubbing his temples with his index fingers, a sick feeling overtaking his stomach.

  I’m sorry, Celaine, he thought.

  ****

  “Are you sure you’re ready for this?” I asked Ian, holding his hand as he laid on the operating table. As if you really have a choice.

  “I’m just a little nervous. I’ve never had surgery of any kind before.”

  “It will be all right. I promise, you’re in good hands.”

  “Were you even the slightest bit nervous? You know…after they told you that you could die?”

  “Of course I was, but you just have to remember why and who you’re here for and the fear drains away.”

  “I’ve thought of nothing else but him since I’ve been here.”

  I smiled. “Well, there you go. Just imagine him here, sitting next to you as you drift off, giving you a huge thumbs up for your bravery.”

  “He used to do that all the time. When I would bring home an ‘A’ on a science project or score a home run. He’d be there to greet me with his big grin and both thumbs reaching for the sky.”

  “I kind of figured. I saw the pictures in your apartment, remember?”

  “I brought a couple of those with me.”

  “Good. You needed to bring them. Those pictures will be just about the only thing that will enable you to maintain your sanity from now on.”

  “Celaine,” Dr. Harris spoke softly, “we’re ready now.”

  “Good luck,” I said, letting go of Ian’s hand.