Relapse (The Vs. Reality Series Book 2)

by Blake Northcott

  “Dia,” Cole interrupts, gently wrapping his hand around her shoulder. “I’m doing this alone. I’ve already asked enough of you; of all of you. You barely knew me when you came to help me rescue Jens, and I can’t thank you enough for that. If something goes down in New York right now I’ll deal with it alone.”

  Dia responds in a firmer tone. “You killed the man who’s been hunting us down for the last five years, so I think we’ll call it even. And things have changed.”

  “I appreciate that but really, I’ve got this. Chances are it’s nothing and I can just warn Gary to get out of town for a while and head up to his cabin. At least he’ll be off the grid and untraceable until we can figure things out.”

  “Okay,” Dia responds with some hesitation. “Make sure you have your cell phone with you. Call me as soon as you need an exit out of there, but if things get hot right away there’s nothing I can do. Once I power down I need at least fifteen minutes to recover enough so I can open a new portal. Any sooner and I can pump myself full of every drug we have, but it won’t help me manifest.”

  Brodie hops off the couch and picks up a messenger bag in the corner of the room. He fishes through the contents for a moment before producing two shiny black cell phones. He tosses one to Jens, and one to Cole. “Here you go, guys. You’re officially part of the team.”

  “Cool,” says Jens as he flips it open and starts arbitrarily pressing buttons. “But I already have a phone.”

  “Toss that shit in the garbage,” replies Brodie with a crooked smirk. “Any phone you have can be traced by the Council if you make a call that lasts for more than a minute. These suckers are international phones that I’ve modded, and they’re completely untraceable. The calls are also scrambled so no one can listen in.”

  “Thanks,” says Cole, shoving the phone into the back pocket of his jeans. “Did you just make these recently?”

  “No, we’ve been using these for a while,” says Brodie as he drops back on to the couch and pops the cork off a bottle of champagne, pouring it into a coffee mug. He must have run out of beer. “I give them to anyone who needs to communicate with us as a precaution.”

  Cole lets out a long breath and glances over at Dia, wishing he could read her thoughts. The timing couldn’t be worse, but this has to happen.

  Dia responds with a small nod. Without another word she turns her left palm towards the ceiling and presses the syringe into her forearm, enabling the needle to puncture a series of overlapping scars. The blue liquid drains from the glass tube and fills her bloodstream. The transformation is instantaneous. Her dark brown eyes burst with blue energy, and her black hair turns to platinum.

  She takes a few steps back and allows some space to create her opening. With a swift diagonal slash she moves her hand through the fabric of space and time, creating a rift out of thin air. A hot white light pours from the gaping portal, and after a moment a darkened alley becomes visible through opening.

  “Good luck, cowboy,” says Dia as she forces the corners of her lips into a weak smile. The sentiment seems genuine, but her expression is broken; forced. Cole isn’t being completely honest about this trip back to New York, and she suspects that he’s withholding critical information about the dangers that lie ahead. She can see it in his eyes and hear the uncertainty in his voice.

  He forces a smile of his own before stepping through the portal, and tells Dia the lie people always tell each other when they’re completely uncertain about the future. “Don’t worry…everything is going to be fine.”

  Chapter Six – Blindside

  New York City | August 28, 2011 | 7:08 am, Eastern Daylight Time

  Cole stumbles from the portal, taking a moment to regain his bearings. The process of teleporting can cause severe nausea and dizziness, but he’s done this several times over the course of the last few days; compared to most of the population he’s practically an expert.

  Being pelted by a heavy rainfall, he rubs his eyes and peers in every direction for familiar landmarks; the remains of a burnt-out van parked in an alley, an abandoned fire station with the windows boarded up, a 24-hour convenience store with the blinking ‘4’ that’s been on the fritz for the last three years.

  Dia was right on target – he’s just a block from Gary’s Gym.

  As he jogs down the empty street the downpour relents, and he approaches the front steps of the building. He’s confronted by a well-dressed Japanese man who is leaning against the rusted railing that leads to the main entrance.

  Goto removes a cigarette from his mouth and exhales through his nostrils before slowly turning his wrist over to check his watch. “Forty-two minutes, thirteen seconds,” says Goto as he taps the face with his finger. “You’re lagging behind, Mister Cole. I’m disappointed.”

  “If I find out you even looked at Gary,” says Cole, gritting his teeth, “I’ll rip your fucking arms off and feed them to you.”

  “Now now, I didn’t come here to hurt your precious trainer. He’s never here on a Sunday – you of all people should know that. This was simply an exercise.”

  “A what?”

  “An exercise: a simple experiment to test your response time. I confess I am a little surprised at you; I would have expected you rather sooner. After all, if it had been my intention to kill Mister Marciano, you would have left me far more time than I actually require.”

  “I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but you made a big mistake coming here alone.” The blood courses through Cole’s veins like molten lava.

  “Whoever said I was here alone?” Goto replies smugly.

  And with those words more than a dozen red lights appear on Cole’s body, covering his face, neck and chest. A series of tiny dots that can only be originating from the laser scopes of high-powered sniper rifles.

  “Just a few of my colleagues; a precaution, if you will. I’m sure you understand.” A thin smile pulls across Goto’s lips. “They’re keeping a watchful eye, and ear, on us at all times. If I say the word you’ll be pumped full of so many explosive rounds that you’ll be torn to pieces. I know you heal fast Mister Cole, but…” he trails off, leaving the thought lingering for Cole to consider.

  “Do you think you could say the magic word before I put my fist through your rib cage?”

  Goto takes a long drag from his cigarette as he shrugs indifferently. “Possibly not, but either way it looks like we’re at an impasse. Either both of us make it out of here, or neither of us will.”

  Cole exhales deeply, attempting to calm his nerves and regain his focus. “So now what?”

  “Now? I’d like to thank you.”

  “Thank me?”

  “For killing Govinda, of course. Since he was…terminated, it has afforded me an opportunity within our organization for some significant career advancement.”

  “I’m glad you got a promotion. I’ll have my secretary send you a fruit basket.”

  “Not necessary,” says Goto with an increasingly annoying smile, “however I appreciate the sentiment. Now that I’m the new Director of the Liberty Initiative, I’ve decided to make a few changes, beginning with the name. From now on it’s simply ‘The Collectors’. I’ve already ordered the new business cards and stationary.”

  “You don’t seem overly emotional about the fact that I tore your boss’ spine out through his stomach.”

  “More interestingly, neither do you, Mister Cole. It’s a little surprising, in fact. I know you were on your way to becoming a professional fighter, but I looked into your background. Your record is spotless; above average student in high school and college, a steady job, no arrests…not even a parking ticket.”

  “And?” Cole folds his arms, growing more frustrated by the moment.

  “Well, let us just say that Dia usually prefers her men a little rougher around the edges. You know, the ‘bad boy’ types that you hear so much about. Still, you did recently eviscerate someone, so perhaps there’s some hope for you two lovebirds after all.”
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  “And what do you know about Dia?” says Cole, unaware that he’s raising his voice as his frustration mounts.

  “Quite a bit more than you, it seems. What has she told you about herself? About her past?”

  “Enough.”

  “Evidently not,” says Goto with a knowing smirk, cocking his head slightly to the side. That one tiny gesture oozes an arrogance that makes Cole’s muscles tense with fury. “She’s not the person she used to be, that much is clear. But I believe the girl I remember is still in there somewhere. And when you finally meet the real Dia? Well, I expect it will be quite the surprise.”

  “So what do you suggest?”

  “I suggest you look for alternatives. I’m recruiting right now, and being a member of The Collectors could prove to be a wise career move on your part.”

  “Thanks but no thanks. I already had this conversation once with Govinda. I’m not interested in working for the Collectors, no matter how much you’re willing to pay.”

  Goto leans away from the railing and his demeanor hardens. “Govinda was a greedy, short-sighted arse of a man who valued profit margins above all else. I’m talking about making a difference – I’m talking about an opportunity to stop The General.”

  Cole shakes his head in disbelief. “So now we’re on the same team, right? And you’re ready to saddle up and fight the guys you’ve just been working with for the last five years?”

  Goto makes a feeble attempt at a shrug as he inhales deeply, filling his lungs with smoke.

  “Okay, Goto; so I’m supposed to believe all this bullshit. That you’re no longer working for the New World Council, and that you’re not collecting people from around the world after they manifest their powers?”

  “You can believe whatever you want, Mister Cole. I’m here to extend an offer, nothing more. I’m simply recruiting, and believe me, so is The General. A battle is on the horizon, and both sides are going to need capable soldiers.”

  “Well good luck with all that. I think I’ll take my chances on my own.”

  “Fair enough, but my offer still stands. I wouldn’t trust Dia any more than I trust The General, but if you’re not going to join us, you should do everything in your power to keep them apart. If they unite there won’t be much that anyone can do to stop them.”

  “I’ve got it under control,” says Cole as he turns to leave, walking back towards the alley where he arrived through Dia’s portal. The red lights follow him, clustered in a tight grouping in the center of his back.

  Goto flicks the remains of his cigarette into the street as his earpiece crackles; one of the snipers is requesting permission to fire. He slowly shakes his head from side to side as Cole moves out of range. “No, let him go. After he discovers the truth I have a feeling he’ll reconsider.”

  Chapter Seven – Clairvoyance

  Paris | August 28, 2011 | 3:59 pm, Central European Time

  Dia’s cell phone vibrates on the countertop with an irritating buzz as the plastic rattles and bounces against the marble surface. She flips it over to find a text message from Cole. He’s ready to return.

  “Alright guys,” says Dia, pulling another one of the custom-made syringes from Brodie’s metal briefcase, “I’m fueling back up for Cole’s re-entry.”

  Dia thrusts the needle into the soft tissue of her forearm and once again injects herself with several ounces Plan B. At one time she could trigger herself by taking a few of Brodie’s Muse pills – which are powerful – but after taking them for an extended period of time she needed something with a little more kick to manifest her abilities.

  Like any high, Muse is thrilling but temporary, and after the initial rush dissipates you’re continually searching for a way to push yourself to the next level. If Plan B represents anything, it’s a monumental step up in the adrenaline department. The effect of the injection is instantaneous; like popping an entire bottle of Muse and chasing it with a bolt of lightning. For just a moment it feels like you’re blacking out. You don’t know where you are – or in that moment even who you are – but you experience a charge that transcends anything that can be experienced in the physical world.

  Before the last drop of Plan B pumps into her vein, Dia’s dark hair changes to a bright shade of blond, and her brown eyes crackle to life with pure blue energy. Without requiring instruction, Paige, Jens and Brodie step back, giving her enough room to create her entrance.

  With a long slashing motion Dia tears open a portal with one hand, resulting in a gaping hole in the fabric of space, bursting with crisp white light.

  A few seconds later Cole steps through and into the living room, placing his hand on the couch for support as his knees weaken. Even for someone with experience, traveling through a portal twice in a short period of time is dizzying and disorienting.

  Dia rushes to his side, helping him to regain his footing. “So is he alright? Did you see Gary?”

  “He wasn’t at the gym, so I went to his apartment. I don’t know how much he believed, but he listened to me, and he’s going to lay low for a while and head out to the woods. But before that I ran into Goto; he was waiting for me when I arrived.”

  “Don’t hold out on,” says Jens eagerly, “did you do your thing where you rip his guts out?”

  “How the hell is that ‘my thing’? I don’t just go around arbitrarily ripping people’s spinal columns out. Although I’m not gonna lie…at one point I was seriously considering it.”

  Paige leans back against the kitchen counter, removing her glasses to clean them with the edge of her shirt. “After what he did to me at the warehouse I wouldn’t mind taking a shot at that little British bastard myself.” It was only a few days prior when, during a late-night operation to rescue Jens, Goto had used a form of telekinesis on her. The assault on Paige’s mind resulted in some involuntary spasms and a searing headache, but the short-term damage was minimal. The lasting effect, however, has been a psychic imprint that she’s unable to describe. Paige has a lingering sense that part of his consciousness has been etched on to hers. Her ability to read thoughts and absorb memories had involuntarily created a bond with Goto’s subconscious, and she’s unable to make a separation.

  “So,” asks Dia, “what did he say?”

  “Not much,” Cole replies as he takes a few steps and drops onto the couch, leaning back with a heavy sigh. “He seems to think that The General wants to get his hands on you so badly that he’s willing to assemble a small army; and for whatever reason, Goto and The Collectors are trying to stop him.” Cole intentionally leaves out the part of the conversation where Goto accused Dia of lying about her past, and warned that she could become dangerous and unpredictable. It’s best to focus on one completely insane notion at a time, and at the moment, dealing with the possibility of an all-out war with the government is more than enough insanity to digest.

  “Goto wants to help?” says Dia with considerable confusion. “Did he have an explanation for trying to hunt me down and kill me for the last five years?”

  “That’s pretty much all he told me,” says Cole, “but I might be able to get some more information. The last few weeks I’ve been having these…dreams.”

  She raises a skeptical eyebrow and slowly sits on the coffee table across from him. “Go on…”

  “Well, they’re not just dreams, they’re more like premonitions. I had one before I manifested in the alley when we met a few days back, and it was uncanny. I looked just like I did in my vision: the muscles, the tattoos – everything happened right down to the last detail. And then with you, when I…when everything happened last night, with the candles and the…”

  “Alright, that’s enough, cowboy,” says Dia, waving her hands in the air, “I think we all get the picture. But so what? You wanted some shit to happen, and it happened. People have their dreams come true all the time.”

  “But not three times in a row. I knew that Goto was going to be waiting for me at Gary’s Gym. Not everything happened exactly like it happen
ed in my dream, but I definitely felt something, and it was real. I’m not crazy…at least I don’t think I am.” Cole scratches the side of his head. “I definitely feel sane.”

  Brodie slumps into a lounge chair before flipping up the foot rest. “Okay, so let’s get nuts for a minute and assume that you’re having some sort of clairvoyant dreams on a regular basis. What do we do now? Make you some sleepy-time tea, put on a white noise machine and wait to see what happens?”

  Cole shakes his head. “It’s not like I’m having lucid dreams, and a lot of the time I don’t even know I’m in a dream until it’s almost over. And it’s not like I’m somehow controlling it – there’s no guarantee that the next time I fall asleep I’ll have some sort of psychic vision.”

  “Maybe I can help,” offers Paige, approaching Cole with a bottle of Muse in her hand. “I can jump into your head and take a look around. If there’s some information floating around in there I might be able to pull it out.”

  “You can do that?” asks Cole.

  “We’ll have to see. Now just sit there and relax; this will be over before you know it.” Before Cole has a chance to protest or ask any additional questions, Paige pops the cap off the small plastic container and swallows a few of the pills; she’s infused with a raw, unbridled surge of power. After a moment passes a purple light flares from her eyes, and an intense glowing energy pulses from her palms. She straddles Cole on the couch, placing one knee on each side of his hips. She rubs her palms together in small circles as the energy pops and crackles.

  “Are you going to read his thoughts or give him a lap dance?” asks Brodie.

  “Oh please, grow up. We’re all adults here.” Paige looks over her shoulder and glares at Jens. “Well, most of us are.”

  “Can I be next in line for a mind reading?” says Jens with a goofy grin.

  Ignoring the request, Paige presses her fingertips into the side of Cole’s head, connecting with his consciousness. Her pupils disappear, yet somehow her gaze intensifies, as if she’s looking directly into the deepest recesses of his mind. Cole remains perfectly still, but his mind screams out in terror, kicking and thrashing to be set free from her control. This type of invasion isn’t something that people submit to willingly, especially the first time.