by Jay Phillips
(The video begins with The Agent sitting at a table across from a man called Roberts, apparently one of The Agent’s operatives. An armed guard stands behind Roberts, who, though under guard, is apparently not a prisoner.)
The Agent: So, what happened?
Roberts: I don’t know (sounding scared). It all went wrong.
The Agent: Just calm down, and tell me. We need to know what went wrong.
Roberts: Okay (taking a deep breath). We followed your orders to the tee. We kidnapped three members of the Prime Minister’s security team. We took them to the warehouse you told us about. We interrogated them---
The Agent: Did you let The Lash help in the interrogation process?
Roberts: Of course. He did that freaky thing he does where he whips the air with his hands and wounds open up on people. The first two, the guy who could fly and the normal girl, both broke fairly easily, but they swore they didn’t know the codes. Lash eventually got too rough and ended up killing them both.
The Agent: And the third guy, the man with the enhanced senses?
Roberts: He wouldn’t break. We tried; The Lash beat him until the guy’s back was like a fucking pool of blood, but he wouldn’t talk. Well, he talked; he talked the whole goddamn time, but he wouldn’t give up the codes.
The Agent: So what went wrong?
Roberts: Whoever gave you the info on this guy fucked up big time. The guy had more than just enhanced senses. The three of us left the room for thirty seconds, tops, and the guy breaks his chains. He somehow found a pistol, and he blew The Lash’s brains out (becoming visibly upset). They went everywhere. His brains were fucking everywhere.
The Agent: Calm down. What happened to Stephens?
Roberts: (takes another deep breath) The guy shot Stephens twice in the chest. He never had a chance. Then out of nowhere, before I could calm myself and teleport away, the guy leaps across the room and lands on top of me, pinning me to the ground with his elbow on my throat. He put the gun in my mouth; look (opens his mouth and points to his teeth), he rammed it in there so hard he broke two of my teeth.
The Agent: Fascinating. Then what happened? He obviously didn’t kill you.
Roberts: He said if I teleported, he would pull the trigger the moment we reappeared. I was too scared to do anything anyways. The guy was fucking insane. But most importantly, he knew. He said he knew who sent us there, and he told me he would let me live if I sent a message back to The Agent, back to you.
The Agent: And what’s this important message?
Roberts: He said to tell you that Canada was protected and to stay out of it, or that would be your brains sprayed on the wall. And then he just let me go; he just walked away and let me go. The guy was fucking nuts.
The Agent: (standing up) I need you to wait here while I inform the others of these events. Are you sure that’s everything you know?
Roberts: That’s it; that’s everything.
The Agent: Then that is all I need from you. (The Agent nods to the guard, who pulls out his gun, places the barrel behind Roberts’ head, and pulls the trigger, leaving Roberts’ brains splattered across the table. The Agent looks up at the camera.) Do you see? (yelling) Do you see what happens when you fail me? If any of you disappoint me like this again, that will be you. Do you hear me? You will not fail me again.
(End video)
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Final Journal Entry
[Begins on page 100]
I was thirteen when registration passed. I wasn’t completely sure at the time what that meant. Registration? Was it like registering for school? Did I need a backpack and a new pair of jeans? My parents assured me it was nothing to worry about. They were good, simple folk who always did what the laws told them to do, whether they agreed with it or not. Actually, you would have never known if they agreed with it or not; they kept those kind of things to themselves. They registered me the day after the law passed.
I was thirteen and a half when two government agents showed up at the house. They wore black suits and drove a black sedan; they had laminated identification badges. They asked to see what I could do, and I showed them the abilities I’d picked up from the M-Virus. What I could do, they said, was impressive. The two government employees talked to my parents, and then the four of them talked to me, informing me that I would have to go away to learn how to properly use these abilities I’d never asked to have.
I wasn’t happy. Even though we’d all had it, no one else in my family, neither my parents, nor my sisters, one two years older, one a year older, contracted anything from that damn virus, except me. My youngest sister, six-month old Lily, had been born after the virus, so we weren’t sure if she was going to have abilities or not. I used to pray she wouldn’t.
I argued with the agents; I argued with my parents. I tried to tell them my powers weren’t dangerous. I couldn’t have hurt people with them if I’d wanted to. The government men reassured me. The place would be like summer camp, they said. There would be other kids there like me; we could all learn to use our powers together, and when I was ready, I would come back home, a productive and useful member of society. I wouldn’t even be gone long enough for my family to miss me. They gave me an hour to pack.
It only took me a few minutes to pack a suitcase worth of clothes, seeing as how clothing was all I was allowed to bring to “camp.” I hugged my older sisters good-bye, and I kissed baby Lily on the cheek, silently wondering if she would remember me when, and if, I ever came back. I ignored my parents on the way out; I didn’t say shit to them; I couldn’t. Whether they knew it or not, this was all their fault.
In a few hours, we arrived at the containment center for super-powered individuals, a massive, windowless building with guard towers on each corner, surrounded by barbwire topped chain link fences. This, I knew, was not “camp.” I had to be deloused before I was allowed to step inside of the building proper, which took place outside on a cold winter day, and take my word for it, it wasn’t pleasant.
Once inside, my head was shaved to the scalp. My clothes were tossed into an incinerator, and I was given my own orange jumpsuit. I was fingerprinted, palm printed, and every other kind of print they could think of. They even took a retinal image of my eyes. They took several photographs of me from various angles, none of which, I figured, would end up on a milk carton if I had went missing. Before being placed into the six by six cell which would be my new home, I was sat in a chair and told to pull my jumpsuit down past my shoulder. A man, who wore glasses and was missing one of his front teeth, tattooed my number on the left side of my chest. This number, F41963, would be my new name.
We were allowed out of our cells once a day for a meal, which mainly consisted of grits. God, I still hate grits. Mealtime was the only occasion I actually saw any of my fellow “campers.” The floor I was on was made up of boys and girls, all ranging from twelve to fifteen in age. The higher the floor, the higher the ages of the inmates, and the top floor, it was whispered, was where people were really mistreated. I honestly couldn’t imagine it getting much worse.
I’m sure you won’t be surprised by the fact there was no training in the Hole (as we affectionately called it). Actually, there was one consistent rule in the containment center: no powers. Any use of abilities, they said, would result in corporal punishment. This one time, I was sitting next to this kid who could shoot electricity from his hands. He was talking to me during our daily meal, and when he snapped his fingers to emphasize a point, a small piece of electricity sparked from his hand. A guard pulled his gun and shot the kid twice in the head, killing him instantly. I never even knew the kid’s actual name.
But after about six months or so, six months, I might add, without any contact from the outside world, we began to hear whispers and rumors amongst the guards. War became the word held in the shadows. A war between the normals and us, a war between The Seven and the government holding us as prisoners, it was too much of a dream to actually ho
pe for. But we hoped.
Besides that, life went on for the most part. Some guards were nicer than others, but I fantasized about killing most of them. I spent most of my nights lying awake in my bunk, trying to figure out some way to use my powers to formulate an escape. Every brilliant plan, every ingenious idea, would always be foiled by the thought process, always finding a flaw which would result in my death. And that was the rub. As much as I hated the place and wanted to be free, I also wanted to live. Any idea which ended in my death was instantly deemed a failure, and I would be forced to go back to the drawing board.
Then, after a few months, that word on the tip of everyone’s tongue, prisoner and guard alike, continued to resurface. War. It was happening; we all knew it. You could feel the fear from the guards most of the time, scared to death the mighty Seven would show up at their doorstep and liberate the children they called prisoners. We heard the talk. The Seven had taken California, then the entire West Coast, destroying every military base along their way.
The guards toughened their stance, forbidding us from talking during mealtime, afraid the whispers might unite us against them, might cause us to feel something besides fear. It had. For the first time in over six months, I felt hope. And not the pitiful artificial hope I made myself feel when I calculated my little escape plans. No. I felt real, tangible, so close to me I could taste it, touch it, smell it, hope. I hadn’t been this happy since the time when I was ten, and I’d paid fourteen year old Becky Miller from down the street ten bucks to show me her breasts. I didn’t just think the war was coming; I knew the war was coming, and every one of those guards, every one of those bastards who’d pushed us, tortured us, killed us, would pay for their crimes.
And then, on a night when I was least expecting anything, it happened. Alarms blazed through the compound. Guards yelled and screamed, running across the floor with guns in their hands. Explosions rocked the building. People cried out in pain. I smelled smoke and the stench of flames. I heard a whistling noise I could have sworn was the sound of a missile being fired through the air. Gunfire echoed up and down the corridors. And you could have seen us all standing next to the tiny window slots on our doors. We knew; this had to be it. They had finally come for us. Finally.
And then I saw them, Agent America and The Iron Knight, crashing through the outer wall of our level. The Agent grabbed guards by the throat and threw them across the floor. The Iron Knight fired bullets from his wrists, tearing the guards in half. Blood and guts flew everywhere, and I was so happy I almost cried. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. It was better than the images my mind had created. It was real, and it was happening.
And then, the one thing I would have never expected happened, changing me and my life forever. The Agent yelled my name, asking if I was on this floor. I didn’t know what to say. Without the words, I just grunted and pushed my hand through the door slot, a vain attempt to wave. The Agent turned in my direction and saw me. He walked over to my cell and asked my name. I told him. He asked me what my powers were. I told him. He moved his wrist up to his mouth and spoke into a small watch like communicator.
“I’ve found him,” he said, seconds before ripping my door from its hinges and tossing it aside. He looked down at me and smiled through his red, white, and blue mask. “We need your help,” he said, holding out his hand for me to take.
They needed my help; The Seven actually needed my help. I could have died right then and there and been content. I probably would have been better off if I’d had. I wouldn’t know all the things I know now. I took his hand, and he pulled me from the rubble of my cell.
“Knight,” The Agent yelled, “free everyone else on this floor, and then we’re out of here.” He walked over to a phone on the wall and pressed the intercom button. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is Agent America,” he said, his voice booming through what was left of the containment center. “To all of you who were once prisoners of this corrupt government, you are now free. Do not go home; do not return to your families. It is not safe; they will be waiting for you there to take you to another facility. I have several vehicles waiting just north of this building. Go to them, and they will take you all to a safe house. Once there, we will feed and strengthen you and prepare the lot of you for war. Thank you, and welcome to the fight.”
A mass exodus ran for the exits, and I started to join them in their escape. The Agent reached out and grabbed me by the shoulder, pulling me back.
“And where are you going, little man?” he asked.
“To the vehicles,” I inaudibly mumbled.
“No sir,” the computerized voice of The Iron Knight said. “You’re with us now. You’re one of us.”
I just stared up at the two heroes, unsure of anything at that moment other than my complete and total confusion.
“It’s okay,” The Agent said, patting my back. “We’ll explain on the way.”
“The way where?” I asked.
“To your house, son,” The Agent answered. “We have to meet your parents.”
The ride home was undoubtedly more uncomfortable than the ride away had been, and I couldn’t understand or make sense of that. These were my heroes; why did they freak me out so much? Why was I suddenly more frightened now than I had been in my months of containment?
I rode in the backseat of a jeep type vehicle. The Agent drove, and a skinny man with glasses and an angry look on his face sat on the passenger side. Next to me in the back, a beautiful red head girl, barely older than seventeen at most, kept giving me these weird, awkward smiles. I wasn’t sure if she was hitting on me or pitying me. Either way, it was just uncomfortable. Outside of the vehicle, I could see the blur of Speed Demon running beside us, and Fire Maiden and The Iron Knight flying through the sky. Off in the distance, The Ice Queen’s ice slide lagged slightly behind, but she stayed close enough to keep track of.
I eventually balled up enough courage to ask what they needed me for. The Agent told me a story of how the government had figured out a cure to the M-Virus’ mutations, and with my powers, they would be able to stop the cure before it went too far. I, he told me, would be able to save the lives of thousands and help them win the war. I’d never actually been able to help anybody win anything. And this, this all seemed to be too much.
We arrived, and my stomach rolled itself into a giant knot. Why did we have to be here? Why couldn’t we just go? Why did I have to see them again? None of this registered in my little brain as making sense. To be honest, it still doesn’t.
The Agent instructed the rest of them to go in ahead, and he nodded at the skinny man from the front seat, who I figured out was the one called Psychosis. The red head from the backseat eventually turned out to be Metal Girl. They all went in while The Agent and I stood outside, waiting. I heard screams, yelling, the sounds of a baby crying; it was the containment center all over again, but this was my home; these people were my family. Why were they screaming?
The Agent walked me inside my house, and I saw my parents and older sisters on their knees in the living room. The Iron Knight stood behind them, the gun’s on his wrists pointing at each of them in turn. The rest of The Seven stood in various positions throughout the room, all staring at my family. Baby Lily cried from the upstairs bedroom. I broke away from The Agent, and I ran to my family, screaming out words that I can’t even remember. And then, against my will, I stopped. The voice of Psychosis echoed inside my head, telling me there was no use in struggling; he had me under his control.
I could still see and hear everything around me, but I was powerless to do anything. I couldn’t move; I couldn’t speak; I couldn’t cry. I just stood in the middle of my living room and watched tears pour down the faces of my mother and sisters, and I watched my heroes discuss the fate of my family. And as I stood there helpless, in the corner of the room, The Agent and Fire Maiden argued.
“This isn’t right, Bruce,” the blonde yelled. “This isn’t what we stand for.”
“This,”
The Agent answered, pointing to my family, “is what they’ve pushed us too. We have to do this to stop them.”
Fire pointed at me. “He’ll do it without this. He’ll do it of his own free will; we don’t have to do this to him.”
“No, Fire, no,” The Agent said in return, shaking his head. “Right now, he’s frightened; he’s weak. He’ll simply be happy to be free. He needs to have a need for revenge. He has to want to kill the normals, all of the normals, for what they did to him and to his family. He needs the pain. He needs the vengeance. And he has to see it with his own eyes, or the memories will never take. He has to see it for himself, or he‘ll eventually be useless to us.”
“Then I’m out; I won’t be a part of murder,” she said, throwing her arms up in the air and storming out of the house.
“Ice,” The Agent said, “talk some sense into her.” The white haired Ice Queen followed her partner outside. The yelling between them was quite audible. The Agent looked around at the rest of his team. “Anyone else have any objections?” No one said a word. “Good. Then let’s do what we have to do.” He turned towards Psychosis. “Can you mentally shut the baby down without any bloodshed. I’m not going to physically kill a toddler.”
“I can,” the skinny man in glasses answered, momentarily shutting his eyes. And just like that, my baby sister Lily went from crying to complete silence. “It’s done,” he said.
The Agent nodded at The Iron Knight. “Do it,” he said.
I watched as the man in the red and black armor walked down the line, placing a single bullet into the head of each member of my family. I wanted to scream, to cry, to run, to do anything to stop this from happening, but I couldn’t. I was forced to watch in absolute quiet as my family died before me. Their blood pooled up on the living room floor. The Agent walked through it on his way to me. He put his hand on my shoulder.
