by Taki Drake
The tension spring wound more tightly, and Alastair felt like he was going to explode. Desperately trying to control his emotions and his body at the same time, Alastair found himself pacing. If his legs were moving, then he had some relief from the upswell of a desperate need to move and act.
It was not long into his shift when the bouncer found himself walking around the room. He felt better when his legs were in motion, and so he paced a circuit of the room repeatedly rather than standing in his usual place.
It was a great relief when his shift finally ended, and he was able to go back to his apartment and relax. Hurrying along the streets between the bar in his home, Alastair started to regain some degree of calmness in the compelling flow of physical exertion.
Slipping into his apartment, the big man let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and decided that it was time for him to take a nap. Perhaps that would wipe away the tension of the day.
Chapter 16 – Setup and Test
Later that evening, after a long rest that helped defuse the tension that had piled up during the day, Alastair left his apartment. He had a few errands to run, and it would feel good to get out and move. It was a dark, blustery February night, generating a deep chill that Alastair’s thick coat did little to negate. Despite the layers, he was soon aching from the cold.
He wasn’t even half a block from his apartment when a group of ruffians surrounded him. It hadn’t caught Alastair entirely by surprise because he had spotted them almost instantly when they had started to emerge from the alleyways. However, he had thought they were on the hunt for easier prey than a large man. Apparently, he had been wrong.
“Look at the Super,” one of the men had said. The man might have been impressive physically compared to anyone else but Alastair. As it was, the bouncer thought he wouldn’t be too much of a problem if it came to a fight.
“I’m no Super,” Alastair said. “Just an ordinary guy.”
“Sure you are,” one of the voices behind him said.
Alastair stood, examining the men, and flexed his shoulders. This wasn’t going to end well. It was like being at work all over again, but this time it would go down a path that Alastair didn’t want to travel. Searching madly through his mind for a way to change the outcome, Alastair ran out of time.
Without further warning, the thugs moved, tightening the noose of their bodies until they were within striking distance. It was as if Alastair had been surrounded by an army of ants, swarming around him, doing their best to overwhelm him by their numbers and the press of their bodies.
Alastair cringed as the stranger hit him with their fists, attempting to take him down. The first punches didn’t hurt him too badly in a physical sense, but his reflexes had been formed long before he had grown. He had learned as a child how to take a punch. Being hit did not disable him.
One of his first survival lessons had been how to not allow pain to distract him. That included pains from heavy blows that activated low, aching harmonics in muscle and bones. This was not close to that level, forming only an annoying irritation.
As the thugs continued to try to beat him into submission, Alastair began to get angry. His blood pounded hot, thick, and hard through his veins. Why did people turn so quickly to violence? It wasn’t just these guys. The new stories were full of other people in the world turning to violence to win whatever they wanted.
Alastair had hoped that if he held his own that the thugs would tire of prey that was not easy and would move on to a different target. That didn’t seem to be happening, and reluctantly, the bouncer knew that he was going to have to fight back. Taking a deep breath, Alastair began to plan his own assault.
The conflict between his childhood responses and the trained actions of a warrior crested and Alastair stopped thinking and started acting. The man attacking him didn’t know what happened. One minute they had a man that was on the defensive, trying to block the blows and avoiding the escalating fight. The next moment the big man had transformed into a storm of muscles and attacked.
Alastair’s fist cracked into the face of the closest thug, knocking him down and out. Pivoting, he took out the man to the rear, slamming his fist into the man’s bearded face and dropping him instantaneously to the ground in an unconscious heap. Two down, four to go.
Acting, rather than thinking, Alastair moved like a force of nature, deadly and quick. Moving toward the biggest guy in the group Alastair closed the ten-foot gap in two rapid strides, elbowing the man in the face before the thug could react.
For his size, Alastair moved like a cat. That probably would not convince anyone of his humanity, but it didn’t matter to him.
Alastair spun to see the last three men standing in motionless shock. Looking between Alastair and the three men who had been dropped in quick succession to the ground, the remaining toughs appeared indecisive. Alastair’s fast moves had outrun their mental processes, and they were at a loss to choose what to do next. Whatever they had expected, it was not this. Their prey had turned on them, and the reversal stunned them into a panic.
The three on the ground were regaining consciousness slowly, groaning in pain. Two of the men that were still standing charged toward Alastair, the light of battle in their eyes. The remaining man turned and rapidly retreated. He was soon out of sight and out of the fight.
Alastair dropped the coward from focus and concentrated on the two remaining enemies. With the large man in combat mode, it didn’t take long to dispose of the last threats. Alastair’s fast movements had demoralized them, and they were at a significant disadvantage trying to assault a warrior with the skills of mere street brawlers.
The bouncer wasn’t proud of his fighting skills, but he was confident in them. There was no contest as Alastair methodically smashed his way through the two attackers and laid them out next to their semi-conscious friends on the ground.
Trying to calm down after the fight, Alastair found himself in his own personal horror. He had promised himself that he would not resort to this level of violence again. The bouncer kept telling himself that they had asked for it, but it didn’t make it any easier for him. Every time he had to descend to this level of violence, Alastair felt like he lost a little more of his soul. That feeling of slow erosion was a nightmare for him, one to be avoided at any cost.
Before he left, Alastair put all five of the men in a group. Standing over the pile of thugs on the ground, the bouncer slowly controlled his breathing and stopped panting. He still had to run his errands even if all he wanted to do right now was to sit down, release his tension, and start the day over.
Alastair began to walk in the direction of his first errand. When he saw Captain Jordan slithering towards him, Alastair knew that the slimy captain had something to do with the fight that had just occurred. Jordan traveled in an aura of manipulation and control. The man positively oozed mistrust and betrayal. The way he walked sent chills down Alastair's spine and alerted his survival senses.
Captain Jordan stopped several feet away. “I’m glad to see you handled that.”
Alastair was perspiring even in the cold of the evening. The fight had heated him up, and now the encounter with Jordan ratcheted up his fight response. He was flushed and angry, ready to explode at the slightest twitch of a trigger.
Alastair knew that Jordan’s presence this close to the fight made it was highly probable that the captain had set up the whole situation. In fact, it wouldn’t surprise Alastair if Jordan had been the one to tell the thugs that the bouncer was a Supernatural.
With experience as his guide, Alastair knew that Jordan would not have had to say anything overt. Instead, he would have whispered to one person and possibly nudged another. With as volatile as the country was right then, that’s all it would have taken.
“No thanks to you,” Alastair responded. “If you saw it, why didn’t you help?”
The former captain shrugged. “I figured you’d be able to handle it and I was right.”
Alasta
ir’s nostrils flared and his blood boiled. “You just watched. I could have been hurt, or worse, killed one of those men.”
Jordan waved him off as of no concern. “Look,” Jordan said, “you clearly still have what it takes. We need you. Men like you. To not only put a stop to this Supernatural infestation, but to address the new formation of gangs that will soon cause more problems than the Supers.”
Alastair did not have issues with the Supers, but the gangs did worry him. If they went around attacking people, Super or not, it would cause a lot of people pain. It made Alastair flashback to his own suffering. His own time of being beaten up.
“I understand that,” Alastair said. He paused for a moment, trying to decide what he needed to do. “But I am not the man for you. I put that in my past.”
Jordan’s eyebrows furrowed, and he sneered at the bigger man. He wasn’t a match for Alastair physically, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try to put dominate the bigger man. “We must smother these ants before they take us over.”
Alastair felt like he was being pushed against a wall, being forced into a place he did not want. “Captain, I will not join you.”
“Then you have left me no choice,” Jordan declared and raised his arm into the air. A moment later, he snapped it down.
Dozens of men in fatigues stepped out from the shadows. They had remained unseen even to Alastair’s trained eyes. Special Forces operatives, in Alastair’s estimation. While they had weapons, they appeared reluctant to use them against the bouncer, telling him that this was recruitment, not eradication.
Hoping to turn him to their side, they walked toward him with empty hands. Ignoring that in these rough streets, a shot wouldn't draw attention. Drawing hope from their stance, Alastair tried again.
“I will not join,” Alastair said forcefully.
“You don’t have a choice,” Jordan replied in a nasty tone. The captain slinked away, leaving Alastair surrounded by strangers bent on his subdual for the second time that night.
Alastair wanted to talk his way out of this but knew these men were only following orders. They would not listen to him, and that meant that they were not the ones he needed to convince. These soldiers had their orders, and that involved his subjugation. Alastair understood that, but he wasn’t going to go down easily.
The circle formed and tightened on Alastair like the cage of his nightmares. As soon as one of the men was within reach, Alastair lunged at him, gripping his uniform collar and slamming him down to the ground. The man hit hard and stayed down.
They hadn’t expected Alastair to fight back. It had caught the soldiers off guard, and the embattled man was going to use that to his advantage. With the team momentarily stunned by Alastair’s speed and strength, he followed up with a second attack.
Using a large sweeping punch, Alastair connected solidly with the jaw of another forward soldier, dropping that man to the ground in a disabled, moaning heap.
Alastair hated himself for doing this, but it had to be done. This was his plan of last resort, the violence that he so abhorred.
Suddenly, a pinching sensation in his neck distracted Alastair. The world spun around him, and he was instantly nauseous. His vision became doubled and blurry, with either more people arriving or his eyes deceiving him.
It was confusing to him. Alastair punched at a target, but missed, striking only air. Staggering, he was barely able to stand, and his legs felt weak. What is happening? he wondered.
One of the men smiled through the blur of Alastair’s sight. “The drug is working,” the soldier said as Alastair dropped to his knees. Now that it was too late, he understood.
His eyes shut despite a desperate effort to stay away, and he felt his face smash into the concrete sidewalk, as Alastair drifted into nothingness.
Chapter 17 – Reality Check
Alastair’s eyes opened slowly to the world again. Half dazed, he was relieved to be conscious and to discover that he was alive after all. His eyes darted around the space, noticing the secure room features and the position of everything in the room.
This chamber had been designed by someone who knew their business. It was large enough to keep anyone who entered safe from Alastair, effectively taking away the advantages of his speed and strength. The lights that lined the ceiling were pointed at his face, which made it difficult for him to see and gave them the advantage of viewing his reactions in clearly.
He was alone. They had restrained him to a chair at the far end of the room making sure that he could not get to the door, no matter how much he tried. The room was also under close supervision, using two cameras that were focused on Alastair from different directions.
Alastair was ill to his stomach just thinking about the men who were watching him. This wasn’t how to treat a law-abiding citizen in this country. Alastair figured they would be here the moment he woke up to try to convince him that he needed to serve again. To help weed out the bad seeds. To Alastair, it was clear who needed to be eradicated.
The door to the room opened, and a single, unaccompanied man walked in. It was an older man with an unconsciously arrogant attitude that waited for the door to close behind him. Alastair immediately recognized him. He had been on the TV the previous night when the Supernatural existence had been announced. He was the former director of the CIA, Polemos Deinos. Even before that night, Alastair was familiar with him and his ruthlessness. As the Director of the CIA, he had ruled with vitriol and hate. Losing his position had not improved his people skills or lightened his hatred for others.
Polemos examined Alastair. Just being in the same room with him made the hairs on Alastair's neck stand up. “Jordan was right. You are an excellent soldier. A force of nature.”
Alastair eyed him, trying to decide the best course of action. “I was.”
“You will be again. We are at war. One that we didn’t know was happening until recently. We need all the men we can get. Men like you that are loyal and driven. Soldiers willing to make us great again.”
The Director of the Department of Non-humans paced around the room. It wasn’t large enough to walk much, but he moved erratically as he talked to Alastair. It was unnerving to watch him gesture with the violent fervor of a leashed rabid dog.
“The vile Supernaturals must be dealt with. They cannot be allowed to roam free. Those things must be locked up. We must protect our way of life, what it means to be Human. The way of the Americas.”
“You’re right,” Alastair said. People did need to be protected.
Polemos’s eye lighted up as Alastair agreed with him. “Yes,” Polemos said with his fists alternately clenching and waving in front of him. “We must defend ourselves by capturing the wizards, and locking up the Were’s and vampires.”
The politician moved as he spoke in short bursts and intense phrasing, his sentences and words chained like poorly-trained attack animals. His actions were filled with a noxious concentrated mixture of speed and hate. Alastair could see him trying to kill or destroy anything that stood in his way. Or something that was different. Like the Supernaturals.
Alastair nodded. “I understand.”
It was tough not to fall under the man’s spell. Polemos had a fascination that appealed to anyone listening to him. Some of that was in the way that he moved, but tonight Alastair could see that it was different from what he had seen in the video clip. It was far more intense and volatile, making Alastair's skin tingle with disgust. With great restraint, Alastair kept his thoughts and emotions off his face.
“Join us,” Polemos said. “Jordan is a good leader, and he needs good men. We must look to the future, to our future.” The light of a fanatic was in his eyes, and the Director gazed deeply into Alastair’s face. The former soldier could feel an undefinable force that was battering against his mental defenses, trying to overwhelm Alastair’s rational mind and sweep him into the other man’s control.
Alastair knew that if he refused Polemos that he wouldn’t be allowed to leave. At least n
ot of his own accord. However, the former soldier wanted nothing to do with this group based on hate and violence. Even though it was a supposed part of the government, it wasn’t an organization he wanted to join.
Escaping was all that mattered to Alastair this point. He knew that slipping away from this man meant that he would be on the run for the rest of his life. Polemos didn’t have the reputation of a person who took refusal well, but the thought of once again perpetuating violence on others at the command of those that saw faceless “acceptable losses” was enough to make the nausea in his stomach rise to critical levels. Descending into the unthinking rage of honorless violence was something that he had sworn not to do again.
Polemos stared in unblinking expectation at Alastair, waiting for his response. Alastair returned the visual confrontation. With men like Polemos, it would do no good to show weakness. Alastair had learned that much in the military.
Even though he didn’t want confrontation, or to fight this man, he had to show a strong front. To survive, Alastair had to avoid that showdown and find a way to get out of this without any more violence.
“May I think about it?” Alastair asked. He hoped that would allow him enough time to come up with a way out of this awful predicament. One that let him keep his life and his ethics, as well as his freedom.
“How long do you require, soldier?” Polemos barked. Alastair wasn’t sure, but he would have guessed that Polemos served in the military at one point as well. Probably a Marine officer.
Polemos move closer to Alastair, inches away from him. He leaned in close and whispered. “You don’t have much time.”
The smell of the man, the look of fanaticism in his face, and the abuses that had been visited on Alastair’s body was too much. Writhing with disgust on the inside, fighting for a purge of the poison that was distressing him, his physical body needed to shut down. Alastair had been trying hard to soldier on, to not let his body purge. Combining screaming need and horrendous strategy, for a brief moment, Alastair relaxed his iron control.
