He stopped talking again and tried to concentrate in silence. It wasn’t until Strom returned that Mizuno apologized to Nick and told them that he needed to leave and sort through some things. He took his meal with him and jotted down a few notes in his notepad before he left.
Strom retook his place on the bed, though he had a bottle of German beer that Nick wasn’t familiar with. He also continued where he left off in his book, even though Nick interrupted him and asked to know more about Jeremy Dalton.
“There isn’t too much to say,” he muttered. “He’s pretty much the same as me, only more ruthless, arrogant, and reckless than I was before I met Mizuno.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Do you remember what I told you about the military program in Germany?”
He asked if he meant the German Hostile Operative program.
“Yes. Well the German military started up round two of the program after I left, although, they decided to leave out the elimination round. Jeremy Dalton was one of the individuals in the program.”
“I take it he was the best?”
Strom shook his head and said he was one of the worst. “It was simply because he was sloppy. He made a lot of mistakes, but he always managed to make it through whatever obstacle lay in his path, or so I’ve heard. He managed to learn about the past group, about me, and thought the elimination round sounded like fun. He killed all of the twenty-one other soldiers in the program as well as the initial leaders of the German Hostile Operative program.”
Nick trembled slightly, though he tried to hide it. “Why did he do that?”
Strom shrugged, “Probably to ensure that there wouldn’t be a third wave that could possibly be sent out to kill him, though I heard whispers that someone hired Dalton to kill everyone off and that was the real reason behind his actions, but it’s impossible to say.”
“Why would he betray his own–”
“He didn’t betray anyone Nick,” Strom immediately told him. “He never gave a shit about Germany, or anywhere for that matter, so he couldn’t betray them since he never cared for Germany in the first place. Hell, I’m not even sure if he was German to begin with. Dalton is an English name…but then again, that might not even be his real name.”
Nick looked at him and asked if he felt that he ever betrayed his nation, but Strom only shook his head briefly and said it didn’t matter.
He continued, “Dalton created his alias a year or so later and immediately took jobs throughout Europe, the Middle East, and Africa. In fact, his body count is at least triple or more of what mine is.” Strom flipped a page in his novel, took a swig of his beer, and said, “Dalton’s one of the major reasons there aren’t certain African tribes anymore. He was often hired to slaughter entire villages simply because someone didn’t like them.”
“And he would just do it?” Nick asked. “He didn’t think about what he was doing at all?”
Strom forced a small chuckle and told Nick that Dalton only thought about himself and his paycheck. “He kills children, women, unarmed men…anyone. He doesn’t care if you’re sleeping, armed, disabled, blind, pregnant…you’re just another couple of bucks to him.”
“That’s horrible.”
Strom agreed.
“Why hasn’t anyone ever tried to stop him?”
“People have,” he muttered, “I have too. You just can’t find him or get close enough to kill him.”
Nick didn’t say anything then. He looked away and asked whether Strom thought he even stood a chance of finding his brother’s killer. Strom said he wasn’t sure, but he told Nick it wasn’t something he should pursue.
“But he–”
“Killed him, I know.” Strom tossed a slip of paper into his book, set it down, and looked Nick square in the eye and told him to let it go. “You’re going to chase after him all of your life if you’re not careful. And I know that he killed you brother, but you can’t simply strive to find him, you can’t. Revenge isn’t worth wasting your life.”
“It isn’t for revenge,” Nick mumbled.
“Vengeance, to avenge him, justice, whatever, it’s all the same when you boil it down. It’s you running after somebody you’re never going to find. All you’re going to get are wasted years, heartache, lost friends, and a steady habit or two.”
Nick didn’t look at him. He scowled at his half-eaten katsu and asked if Strom had any siblings. He said he didn’t before he went back to his book and left Nick with his own thoughts.
---*---
10:35 PM
Near Holden Village, Washington
The three boys, Coop, Ian, and Wally managed to set up camp before a storm started up around noon. They spent the next eight hours playing card games, hand held videogames, talking, making jokes, and reading (though Coop was exempt from this category) before Ian finally asked if they wanted to see a part of his powers he hadn’t shown them. Coop and Wally naturally agreed and after a miserable hike up to the nearby Spider Gap, Ian admitted that he could fly.
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Wally asked. “It would have at the very least shut him up,” Wally said as he gestured to a gobsmacked and freezing Coop.
Ian said he wasn’t sure. “I didn’t want this to become something, but…” he paused for a moment and apologized, “You were right. I really shouldn’t waste this gift.”
Coop shivered and congratulated him. “Is there a reason you couldn’t tell us about this in the nice, dry, and warm tent?”
Ian said he wanted to show them something. He left them there and flew out over the lake and hovered a half a mile above the water. Coop and Wally couldn’t see it, but Ian closed his eyes and remained in deep thought as he hovered in the air whilst they were all soaked to the bone. Lightning flashed miles away, followed by the crack of thunder, but Ian remained where he was and focused. The storm drew closer and after a moment another bolt of lightning shot down from the heavens and hit Ian, though it did not harm him. He redirected the bolt, amplified it, and shot it at the worn trail the three boys took up to Spider Gap. Ian didn’t wait for the thunder to sound before he rushed back to his friends.
He hardly made his return before Coop started his rant of excitement. Ian simply nodded, smiled, and listened in earnest as he exhausted his enthusiasm, “I mean, holy crap! How on earth did you figure that out Ian?”
“Yeah,” Wally stopped him, “How did you?”
Ian told him he practiced with a taser. “I would shock my left hand and discharge the energy out from my right hand.”
“Does it hurt?”
He shook his head and told them it was painless.
“But you can still shoot lightning out on your own, right?” Coop asked him.
“Yes.”
“That’s not the point Coop,” Wally told him. “Ian’s learning how to use his powers, which is what both you and I have stressed from the beginning.”
Ian scratched the back of his head and apologized again. “You guys were right and all want is to make up for lost time.”
Coop told him it was fine and asked what else he could do.
Ian took a breath and told them that he could move slightly faster than lightning, which included running or flight based movements, he could disable electronic devices, create isolated bursts of thunder within a certain distance from where he was, and could even electrically charge his body which he could then use to his advantage if he was ever in a fight.
Coop and Wally were both impressed with his achievements. Wally asked him if he would seriously become a hero in London once he arrived there.
Ian told them that was the plan. “I’m not entirely sure where I’m going to get a costume, but that’s not what I’m really concerned about right now.”
“Then what are you worried about?”
Ian wiped off the corners of his lips and told them he wasn’t sure about how he would juggle a job as well as being a hero.
Coop told him he’d figure it out. “Okay, can we please get bac
k to our tent? It’s freezing out here and I’m soaking wet.” He glared at Ian and asked why he couldn’t have shown them his newest powers on a sunny afternoon.
---*---
Chapter 20
September 18th, 2029
5:48 PM
London, England
After hours of painstaking needlework, design, and craft, Audrey neared completion of her husband’s costume. The project consumed all of her time outside of work (sleep and meals aside) but she enjoyed the process and loved the opportunity to dress her husband as she saw fit.
I really am lucky to have her. There’s no way I’d be able to make this costume on my own, and I doubt there’s a website I could go to and design something that’s not only durable and cheap, but anonymous too. Besides, she’s excited about all of this. I love her more and more when I see that.
His outfit was little more than cut out patterns that waited to be pieced together, though the one completed aspect was a black rubber domino mask they purchased from a costume maker through an online shop. Audrey equipped the mask with slightly tinted lenses that would not only help keep sunlight from his eyes but would also help conceal his identity, should anyone get a good look at him. She found a strong bonding agent known as spirit gum which Jason could use to secure the mask on his face without the need to tie a string around the back of his head to hold the mask in place.
Jason sat with the mask in his hands while Audrey sewed the pants together. “How long do you think it will take to finish it?” he asked.
Audrey smiled and said she might be done within the week. “Mind you, it may be held together with staples and tape, but you’ll have one,” she smirked.
I love that smile. How long was it until I knew I loved her? She’s amazing, an absolute– Jason froze. Audrey studied his face and asked what was wrong but Jason only asked her to remain quiet for a moment while he concentrated. He heard a few men, four who were present and at least one who was only there via radio contact, in a panicked frenzy. They’re not close…well, they are getting closer, but they’re not…He waited a moment and heard sirens as well as a whirring engine and spinning blades. A helicopter? Jason waited and dissected their conversation. They’re going down. I can hear the screams below, the people in buildings too, everyone, the sirens from police far off. Where are they? How far off? Could I reach them? Where are they?
“Audrey,” he started toward their window, “I need to go.”
Audrey’s heart raced and she asked what was wrong. Jason quickly took the spirit gum adhesive, applied it to his face, fixed the mask correctly and ensured it was stable, and told his wife someone needed his help. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
In a moment the window was opened and Jason was far from their hotel and high above the city while he listened and surveyed the city. Where are you? I know I’m fast, but I can’t tell how close they are to hitting a building or the ground for that matter. He tried to see any smoke or the aircraft itself but failed to locate anything. Where the hell is it? How difficult is it to find a helicopter? Especially one that’s out of control and on its way down.
Jason only heard the roar of the city and couldn’t pinpoint the vehicle in distress. He searched the skies and the cityscape as well to locate it while he focused to sift out the sound of the endangered party from the rest of the city. You’ve got to be close…and complete panic hasn’t…Then Jason heard it, the panicked cries of the people below the falling chopper. It was near the City Hall of London and Jason wasted no time in rocketing toward the vehicle.
He couldn’t tell what caused the distress within the aircraft when he arrived, but knew the pilot didn’t have a hope of recovering from the fire in the engine coupled with the skyward bent propellers. Kill the fire first to remove any possibility of harm to the passengers from the smoke. Jason raced forward and swept himself under the body of the machine and took hold of the landing skid on the left side of the craft. He took a second to concentrate and remove all heat from the engine, which killed the fire instantaneously.
Good. Now I need to land this thing. Jason pressed his back against the bottom of the vehicle and made an attempt at slowing it only to discover a vast difficulty in carrying the craft. Why isn’t this working? I should be able to lift this without any problem. I’ve practiced with trailers and busses and there wasn’t even a struggle, aside from handling them. But why can’t I get any leverage over this? The helicopter and Jason both plummeted toward the earth as Jason struggled to lift the aircraft. I can, at the very least control the direction, but why can’t I stop this? Jason glanced at the streets below and realized his time was nearly up. He fell with the vehicle and guided it as best he could to a clearing between City Hall and the River Thames and aimed to set it in a vacant lot.
I should be able to carry this thing; what’s wrong? I’ve held much heavier loads before, so why is this different? Why is this so difficult? Jason and the helicopter neared the ground rapidly while Jason ran the impossibility through his head. I can move it, which means I am lifting it, more or less. But why is this so much heavier than before? I’m carrying it like I always…Then it hit him. There’s nothing to lift off of. I’m utilizing too much lower body strength to stop it. And at the rate we’re going I doubt I have the time to completely stop it. But I can slow it at the very least. Alright, change of plans.
Jason raced to the top of the aircraft and tore off the main and tail rotors and cast the material aside. Perfect, now there’s nothing to fight against me other than inertia and gravity. He returned to the underside of the cabin and placed his hands there. Jason plunged his hands through the metal and secured a holding while he faced the direction of the helicopter’s intended pathway. Now make a few adjustments, slow it down, turn it from the building and…Jason guided the vehicle from City Hall and into the parking lot. As he touched down he ran a few paces forward to avoid as much whiplash for the people in the cabin but ultimately came to a full stop. He set it down and opened the cabin doors to allow the pilot and passengers out.
None of them are harmed, thank goodness. Jason took a moment to catch his breath before he decided to turn and make a quiet exit, but one of the men asked him, through labored breath, “Who are you?”
---*---
10:03 AM
Bothell, Washington
The trio of young men scuttled into Ian’s home where his mother greeted them as they kicked their muddy boots off at the door. “How was your trip?” she asked.
“It was really good Mom,” Ian reported, “Even though it rained.”
“Oh, I wondered if it rained there as well. We had a terrible storm here on Sunday.” She walked the boys into the living room where she had a program paused asked them to take a seat and watch the newscast about the newest hero while she brought them some lunch.
Coop and Wally took their seats on opposite sides of Ian while he played the program. A newswoman gave the report, “It may no longer be a surprise to anyone that we have masked heroes appearing every day, but London’s newest is undisputedly London’s finest. This video was taken by a young girl from her apartment home on a cell phone.”
A shaky video played and showed an out of control helicopter on its way down near London’s City Hall. After a moment a blur raced to the ailing craft and latched on to the underside. The engine fire and smoke died shortly thereafter and within a minute the out of control helicopter was safely on the ground with all of its passengers beside it.
The wobbly cell phone video stopped and the newscaster returned, “That is the first time anyone’s witnessed this man’s heroics. Eyewitness accounts verify that this video is authentic. And as for the four individuals within the vessel, they only had their thanks to give to the man who identified himself as Ilion.” The newscaster continued to talk about the interviews with the four men who were in the helicopter as well as the general assumptions behind the new hero’s abilities, though Ian muted the recording at that point.
“Holy shit, he can
fly!” Coop exclaimed as their food was brought in.
“I know I didn’t hear you boys swear,” Ian’s mother scolded them as she returned to the living room with a hot meal for each of the young men. Coop and Wally apologized in unison. She brought them potato soup and chicken salad sandwiches. They thanked her in unison as she quickly left the boys to retrieve a large black box, which she set in front of Ian. “Here, this is for you.”
“Did you manage to finish it?” Wally asked.
“Yes, it was much easier with him out all weekend.”
“What are you all talking about?” asked Ian.
“Just open it,” Coop told him.
Ian set his soup aside and opened the box. Inside on the top was a jet black mask. Next was a jacket, then pants, gloves, and a pair of boots. He looked up at his mother and whispered, “You knew?”
She smiled and said the boys told her as soon as they knew. “I don’t care that you never brought it up Ian, I’m just happy I was able to make this for you.”
“Then,” Ian stopped briefly to look at his friend and ask them, “You sold your concert tickets to fund this?”
Wally nodded and told him it covered nearly the entire bill. “Your mom paid for the rest and agreed to make it as well. I happened to draw up a couple dozen designs, though they all sucked, and luckily your mom works in the world of fashion and managed to make something that doesn’t look like a shi–I mean, cruddy get up.”
“Alright,” Coop broke in, “Get upstairs and put it on!”
Ian agreed and took it up stairs just before Coop stole his bowl of soup. Once behind the closed door in his bedroom, Ian stripped down and started equipping the new outfit. He first tried on the pants, which he assumed were leather, but were actually made of a rubber-like material he found surprisingly flexible. The thighs and knees had steel plates beneath the material, which he assumed his friends thought up to help him if he got into a hand to hand fight. The design of the pants reminded him of the high school football uniform he wore, though his costume lacked both hip and rear pads. However, there was space for a removable cup in the crotch.
Regenesis (Book 1): Impact Page 46
