Black Onyx Duology

by Victor Methos

  “I don’t know.”

  “He wears the armor of my soldiers. What does he use it for?”

  “So far, he’s just used it to help others. He hasn’t tried to gain power over anyone with it.”

  “I must have it.”

  “Why? There are hundreds of them buried in the city.”

  “No one can be allowed to have one, save my soldiers.”

  He shrugged. “No one knows who he is.”

  “Then we must bring him to us. You said he helps people. How?”

  “He stops them from getting hurt.”

  She rose from her chair. Her eyes lit up a deep red, as if they were on fire, and she turned to the people in the restaurant.

  11

  Dillon got out of the hot tub around ten o’clock. Jaime had already gone to bed, but he’d wanted to stay and get drunk. After one and a half beers, he felt sick, so he just got comfortable on the lounge chair and closed his eyes.

  His cell phone buzzed. He reached for his discarded pants and pulled the phone out of the pocket. Checking the caller ID, he saw Henry’s name.

  He answered. “You must have some sixth sense about people in fragile conditions who have something valuable to sell.”

  “I’m your friend, Dillon, just like I was your father’s.”

  The pain of James’s death came tumbling back into him and pulled at his guts. “What do you want, Henry?”

  “I was calling to let you know you’ve made the right decision.”

  “I haven’t made any decision.”

  “Really? I got a text from Jaime, saying we have a deal.”

  “She’s really been spearheading this thing, huh?”

  “She cares a lot about you. She knows where this will go.”

  “And where’s that?”

  “I knew a man once in this situation. He was Special Forces, real robust gentleman. He lived in the Virgin Islands, just a little town of roughly one thousand people. The police they had were from a neighboring town, so they could never get out in time for anything. One night, this man stopped a robbery. It felt so good that he decided he wanted to do it again. A week later, he helped recover someone’s car. He became the town’s de facto police force, helping everyone he could.”

  “What happened to him?”

  “He was shot in his sleep. People don’t want heroes, Dillon. Not really. Not when it’s inconvenient. One day you’re their hero, and the next day, you’re their villain. Don’t fall into that trap.”

  Dillon shook his head. “I don’t want them using this as a weapon.”

  “That’s exactly what they’re going to use it for.”

  “I don’t want that, Henry.”

  “You don’t have a choice. Just be glad it’s our military. Look, it’s no worse than a nuclear weapon, and everybody’s got those.”

  “I guess.”

  “I’m right about this. Jaime is right about this. I’ll come by later this week to pick it up.”

  “All right.”

  “And maybe we can catch some waves?”

  “Catch some waves? What are you, from Leave it to Beaver?”

  “Don’t tease your elders.” He paused. “You’re doing the right thing, Dillon.”

  “I hope so.” Dillon hung up and headed into the house.

  He felt restless, so he decided to take a run on the treadmill in the basement. He put in earbuds and ran until his legs hurt and all the tension had left his body. After a quick shower, he went down to the kitchen and made a sandwich.

  Dillon took a bite of his sandwich on his way to the front room. He sat on the couch, picked up the remote, and flipped on the television.

  A news reporter’s worried face filled the screen. “We don’t know who this woman is or how all this happened, but it appears as though a bomb may have gone off in Beverly Hills.”

  The camera panned the scene behind the reporter. Cars were overturned, and several businesses were on fire, with flames licking the sky.

  In the center of the street stood a single woman in a black dress.

  A crowd was running past her. She picked up one of the men and flung him into the glass doors of a clothing store across the street. He flew through the thick glass, which shattered on impact.

  Red and blue police lights blinked in the background. A couple of warnings were given, and an officer shouted for her to drop her weapons. When the woman didn’t comply, the police opened fire.

  The woman held up her hands. The rounds floated in the air before spinning and firing back at the officers. The bullets were targeted at their heads and necks, killing almost all of them.

  Dillon jumped up and ran to the garage.

  12

  Dillon hovered over the area. The destruction didn’t seem real. The scene looked like something from a war documentary, with the street being a movie set that’d been destroyed in a fake disaster rather than a real section of the city where people lived and worked.

  Bodies were scattered on the ground like loose gravel—so many that Dillon couldn’t count them all. Interspersed with the bodies were severed arms and legs.

  Dillon touched down in the middle of the street. All he heard was the crackle of flames from the cars and businesses that’d been destroyed. No screaming, no running, no sirens, or gunfire.

  “I’m surprised the armor allowed you to enter.”

  Dillon turned to see the woman from the news standing behind him. She was even more beautiful in person. He couldn’t help but stare at her, his mouth agape.

  She grinned and put a hand on her hip. “The armor does not allow just anyone to enter. It can sense inside you and responds to what it finds.”

  “Who are you?”

  “I am Atlantis, your queen.”

  “My queen? Did we lose a war or something?”

  “You were allowed inside the armor. Only my people are allowed inside the armor, which means you have my blood in you. I have descendants, young one. Thousands of generations before you, I gave birth to your line.” She walked over and ran her fingers down his suit. The material shifted and spun furiously, as though it were excited. “That makes me your queen.”

  Dillon gazed at her eyes, which shifted with the flames. “You’re from that city,” he said quietly.

  “My city, my empire. I ruled this earth from a throne of diamonds when many of our species still roamed the jungles for food and saw fire as a god.”

  “Why did you do this? All these innocent people… there’s no reason for this.”

  “I had to illicit your attention.”

  “You did this because of me?”

  “You are worth a million of them. They are vermin under your feet.”

  “They’re not vermin,” he said, grabbing her wrist and removing her hand from the suit. “Surrender now, and I won’t hurt you.”

  A smile came to her lips. “You are brave. Very well, if you must die, so be it.” She placed her palm on his chest.

  He flew back as if a cannonball had slammed into him. He went through the back wall of a jewelry store, smashed through the counter, and came out the front entrance. He knocked over a fire hydrant before finally rolling to a stop.

  He sat up, taking a second to catch his breath and let the burning pain in his chest fade. Then he rose into the sky and propelled himself toward her like a bomb with both fists out, ready to barrel through her. She shifted her hands and shoved him to the side. His momentum caused him to smash through the cement street and land in the sewer.

  Lying on his back, staring up through the hole in the street, he thought, What the hell just happened?

  Dillon hopped out of the hole and grabbed a lamppost from the side of the street. He rushed her and swung the post like a bat. She blocked with her arms, shattering the post. He held up his palms, and an invisible magnetic force fired from them, catching her off guard.

  Atlantis flew into a nearby car, which caved in around her. She stood up, throwing off her high heels. Walking to the center of the stre
et, she stared at him, her eyes blazing. Her hands glowed a dark crimson.

  A powerful wave of energy shot from her into the road, tearing it up as if an earthquake had occurred. The force slammed into Dillon and knocked him up into the fifth floor of a building across the street. Papers fluttered around him as he lay on his back, staring at a ceiling fan.

  He leapt to his feet and jumped out of the building. Landing just in front of her, he came up with a lightning-fast kick, which she parried. He followed with a right punch then spun into the air like a gymnast and flipped backward, his heel catching her jaw.

  She swiped at his chest. A searing pain roared through him, and he realized she had torn right through the suit. She clawed at every part of his body, tearing up the suit and the flesh underneath it. She then head-butted him so hard that he flew into a Mercedes and collapsed it, the tires exploding with loud pops.

  He lay still a moment and then sat up. He lifted the car and threw it at her, sending her into the storefront of a lingerie store. He raised another car over his head and hurled it like a spear, crashing it into her body.

  Atlantis stood up calmly, straightening her dress.

  “Nice dress,” he said.

  “We had no clothing in my culture. It is an odd sensation.”

  “Really? No clothes, huh? Like ever? Even when you ate? That seems—”

  She rushed him. Digging her fingers into the suit, she spun and threw him several hundred feet. He crashed through the side of an office building. Tearing through the floor and desks, he came to a stop in an office. His body screamed in pain.

  I could have done something with my life instead of being a punching bag. I always liked trains. Maybe I could’ve been a conductor or something. He sat up and walked to the gaping hole in the wall. His chest and stomach bled where she had clawed him. Atlantis stood in the middle of the street with her hands at her sides.

  Okay. You’re stronger than I am, but can you fly as high?

  Feeling the energy bubble inside his suit, he hurtled forward, tearing apart the carpet and furniture. He shot out of the building and straight into the ground. He came up through the asphalt beneath her, grabbed her legs, and lifted her into the air. She twisted around him like a snake as he flew high above the city.

  “Death has little pain,” she whispered then ripped off half the head of the suit.

  Instantly, Dillon felt as though he was in a machine that had just been unplugged. His momentum carried him a little higher, then he plummeted back to earth. He swung back with his elbow and caught her face before twisting around and punching her other side. The blows were enough to loosen her grip.

  He spun and flipped her off his back. His flight was out of control, and he banged into one building and bounced off another before stopping by digging his hands into the structure. She hovered above the street, the same knowing grin on her face.

  Dillon spit blood. Pain coursed through him. He was pretty sure she had broken his ribs. He let go of the building and soared into the air.

  She followed, twirling. A red glow emanated from her body. Dillon flew with everything he could muster.

  A beam of pure energy shot from Atlantis and into him. Half of the suit burned, along with his skin. He screamed. Dipping low, he hit a billboard and went through it into a brick building. He zipped past a couple watching television in their living room, then he exploded through the balcony doors and into their garden as he got control of himself. She was too strong. He couldn’t take her. Not yet. His first thought was to go home, but he couldn’t risk her following him. So he went north.

  Within moments, he was over an ocean. He continued until he came to forests then mountains with snow-covered peaks.

  He dipped low to gain enough altitude to avoid one of the behemoths of stone and ice before dipping again. Eventually, he dropped so low he couldn’t get high enough to avoid one.

  Crashing into the side of an icy rock face, he heard the crunch of his suit and probably some of his bones. He tumbled down the mountain. Stone by jagged stone, he flopped, helpless, blood spurting out of his mouth when he tried to scream.

  Then blackness overtook him.

  13

  Atlantis hovered until the dot of fire disappeared. He had mastered the speed. How few, even of her own people whom she’d taught personally, had mastered that aspect of the armor? It had taken her nearly a millennia to do it. And even without guidance, that man had managed in a few seasons’ time.

  Such a shame he had to die. Excellent soldiers were rare.

  Noise erupted behind her, and she turned to see men in green uniforms with machines and weapons. One shouted at her through a contraption held at his mouth. Was that their army? A sudden twinge of pity went through her. If that was the best they could offer, they had not progressed much in the millenniums she had been in slumber.

  “Surrender now!” the man shouted.

  Lifting her hand, she crushed his head without going anywhere near him. The others began firing projectiles. One of the machines boomed, and a larger projectile barreled toward her. Slamming her fist into it, she rent the thing into pieces. The smaller ones bounced off her with faint pings.

  She rose into the air. “Bow to your queen.”

  When the men continued to fire their weapons, she clapped her hands. Firestorms swallowed the men, turning them to ash. The machines caught fire and blew apart or melted. The flames rolled through the city, eating everything in their path before eventually dissipating. She settled back onto the ground.

  Her servant ran over to her. “Are you injured, Queen?”

  “No. But I believe I’ve had enough play. Take me to their king, servant. I will offer them one opportunity for surrender.”

  “And if they do not?”

  “They will all be killed, and the earth repopulated with our own kind.”

  14

  Jaime awoke and watched the sunlight dance on the walls for a few minutes. She loved her house. It had belonged to her grandfather, a native Hawaiian, and then had been passed from her parents to her. Her parents were still alive, but they preferred year-round travel to settling down in one place, and since she was the oldest of their children, the house was hers.

  After she showered and dressed, she prepared a bowl of cereal and took it out onto the deck. She glanced over at Dillon’s house. He was usually out doing yoga or surfing that time of the morning, but she didn’t see him. Figuring he had slept late for a change, she finished her cereal, enjoying the cool morning breeze.

  When Dillon still hadn’t appeared twenty minutes later, she walked over to his house. Opening the sliding glass door, she stuck her head in. “Dillon? You here?”

  No answer. She stepped inside and called his name again. No answer.

  Walking through the kitchen, she spotted a photo on the wall—James with his arm around Dillon. They were on top of a mountain, their faces cranberry-red from the cold. Dillon looked so happy.

  She missed James. Whenever she’d had a problem, she would come over and have a glass of wine with James. He would hear her out and give her advice. More times than she could remember, whatever he said had been exactly what she’d needed to hear.

  “Dillon, where are you?”

  She checked upstairs and in the bathrooms. No Dillon. He wasn’t in the basement, either. She checked the garage. The suit was gone. She pulled out her cell and tried Dillon’s number, but the call went straight to voicemail. She dialed Henry’s number.

  “Hello.”

  “Henry?”

  “Yes?”

  “This is Jaime.”

  “Oh, my apologies. I don’t have your number programed.”

  “No problem. Hey, have you talked to Dillon lately?”

  “Yesterday. We spoke briefly.”

  “Did he say he was going somewhere?”

  “No, why?”

  “I can’t find him, and the suit’s gone, too.”

  “Well, if I could traverse around the world in a few minutes, I d
on’t think I’d be home much, either.”

  “I guess so. If you hear from him, can you tell him to call me?”

  “Certainly, darling.”

  “Thanks.”

  She sighed and rummaged through the fridge, finding some Crystal Light. She poured a glass, then flopped on the couch and turned on the television.

  A breaking news story had taken over the channel. Underneath a reporter on location was a ticker:

  Possible terrorist attack in Beverly Hills. Vigilante known as the Black Onyx reportedly killed.

  The glass dropped from her hand as tears welled up in her eyes.

  15

  Jaime watched the entire news broadcast then turned to another station and watched a different report. A woman with an unknown weapon had torn apart a section of Beverly Hills, killing hundreds of civilians and police officers. The National Guard had been called. The soldiers were annihilated, their tanks and Humvees destroyed. No one had actually seen the Black Onyx die, but a handful of witnesses had given their accounts.

  “He was up in the air, right,” some guy said as the camera cut to him. “And like that chick, man, she shot this like laser outta her hands, man. Shot it just right outta her hands. And it hit the Onyx dude, and it looked like it blew him up, man. Pieces o’ him was flyin’ all over. But I didn’t see where he fell or nothin’.”

  The camera turned to a woman whose hair was messy, with bits of ash and splintered wood in it.

  “Well, I saw him, yeah. He was flying around. And if you ask me, he’s just as dangerous as that woman, flying around in a suit like that. What if he fell into my house? I have cats, and I can’t be home all the time to protect them. But I saw him, and he was flying, and then she shot him with something… what’s that? No, I don’t know what it was. It looked like a laser beam like you see on those movies late at night.”

  Jaime felt numb, as if someone had injected her entire body with Novocain. As one show ended and another began, she felt queasy. She stood to run to the bathroom but didn’t get far before vomiting all over Dillon’s carpet.