“…3-2-1,” Detonation said to their backs.
The batons exploded with loud pops. They weren’t large eruptions – not meant to kill, but maim, blowing off their hands and part of their arms. The white guard staggered against one of the cells, staring in horror at the charred nob that ended at his elbow. Some of the inmates reached through the bars taking hold of him, tearing at his skin, while others clasped at his throat to choke him.
The Asian guard fell to his knees, then all the way to the floor, his body locking into the fetal position.
Somehow Darryl had managed to will himself away from the bars and deeper into his cell. He retreated back into his corner and crawled under the bunk hoping he could hide in the shadows. Squeezing his eyes shut he wanted to pray but he didn’t know which god to beseech, so he said nothing.
“Darryl,” a deep voice said. “Open your eyes, bruh. I want you to see me.”
He forced his eyes open, his face stricken. Detonation stood on the opposite side of the bars. “I-it wasn’t my fault, man!”
“That’s why I’m here. To find out whose fault it is,” Detonation said.
He placed a single finger against one of the metal shafts. In an instant, all the bars glowed. It sounded like a small firecracker going off as metal turned into ash, raining down to the floor. Glancing down at his sneakers, Detonation inspected them and then frowned looking up. “Now see what you gone and made me do, bruh? My Jordan’s are dirty.”
“I-I’m sorry,” Darryl pleaded from his hiding place.
“Oh, now you got apologies?” Stepping over the pile of ash and into the cell, the big man slowly made his way to the bunk as if he had all the time in the world. “Too late for that, bruh.”
From his angle, all Darryl could see was Detonation’s smudged shoes as he approached. His pants suddenly felt wet and warm as his bladder emptied. “There’s wasn’t nothing I could do, man! Nothing!”
The mattress above him sunk in the middle as Detonation sat heavily on the bunk. Detonation was quiet for a period, then he made the sound of blowing out air. “I spilled a lotta blood today bruh, and I ain’t in any mood for your whining.”
The strong scent of weed reached Darryl’s nostrils.
“You’re gonna tell me what happened to my little bro today,” his tormentor explained, “And then you’re gonna die.”
***
Detonation swaggered through the station with significantly less trouble than when he entered. The survivors of his attack watched him leave without uttering a single word of protest. They were either too scared or too hurt to stop him. He paid little attention to the mayhem he’d created, because his thoughts were elsewhere.
“Night Siege,” he muttered through gritted teeth.
Their paths had never crossed before, but that hadn’t meant the former superhero wasn’t, from time to time, a complication for him in the past. In the early days of Detonation’s rise to power in the city, plans had been in place to grow his criminal empire by having his crew take out other gangs. More than once, Night Siege’s interference crippled his campaigns for power, significantly slowing his takeover of the rival gangs.
When the superhero became too much of a problem, Detonation decided enough was enough and had intended to end Night Siege once and for all. Then providence stepped in as a glory seeking journalist had done what so many had attempted to do in the past, but failed. She brought the superhero down to his knees by revealing his true identity to the world. With Night Siege out of the picture, there was no need to seek him out. The city, deprived of its hero, left nothing to stand in Detonation’s way and his power and influence grew in a short time.
As fate would have it, however, it seemed that Detonation’s decision to let the broken hero live had come back to bite him. He didn’t have any real affection for his little brother, Carlon. The fool was addicted to Noricloregion, though that was no fault of his own. The drug made his brother weak and Detonation couldn’t afford to have weakness around him, not when he was building his empire. He shunned his little brother, leaving him to fend for himself on the streets. Still, they were blood, whether he liked it or not, and even Detonation knew better than to ignore someone murdering his kin. He would look weak in the eyes of those he command.
Night Siege therefore had to die.
Chapter Three
Night Siege
It wasn’t something I did often, but under the circumstances, I made an exception and went to a sports bar to have a drink. I came in with the intention of drinking myself into a stupor until the police picked me up for the deaths of those two men in the party store. Unfortunately, my accelerated metabolism was keeping me sober. I nursed a single beer instead.
The sports bar clientele were all staring at me with recognition, whispering questions about where I had been all these years and what had happened to me. My enhanced hearing heard it all though I tried desperately to tune them out. I should have left the hoodie over my head to cover my face, but I was likely going to prison soon, so I figured, what the hell. Now, I regret that decision.
At least no one was brave enough to approach. The whole time I sat at the bar the stools to either side of me remained empty, even though the place was crowded. I suspect they recalled old news reports of me fighting in public and putting dozens in the hospital. What had set me off then was that someone had innocently tried to console me after my family was killed. I wasn’t in the right frame of mind, blaming the entire city for not helping them. I took my anger out on those closest to me and paid the price with three weeks in a cell. No one had the heart to press charges against me and the police had no choice but to let me go. I went off the grid after that, living like a hermit ever since.
Because of necessity, I only interacted with a handful of people, like Ilyas. I should have known the day was going to be a bust after I found out the black licorice hadn’t been delivered at the store. Now, there were two bodies; well, what was left of their bodies, questions about their deaths from cops, and the looming possibility that another Superior might come after me.
Then the newsflash happened.
All the screens on the sports bar televisions broadcasted various stations reporting a prison being attacked earlier by Detonation. The aftermath of his destruction looked like a scene from the Terminator. He left few survivors, but those who lived to talk all reported that my name came up while the killer questioned a prisoner – the thief with the automatic pistol from the store.
That was not good.
The whispers in the sports bar became loud and accusing murmurs. They were already saying it was my fault that those guards and police officers were dead. How I shouldn’t have crawled out of the hole I’d been hiding in. All it took was a sixty second clip for the public to condemn me. I spun around on my stool eyeing everyone in the place, daring someone to blame me to my face. The entire sports bar went silent, but it wasn’t because of me. All eyes were turned to the televisions. Detonation filled all the large screens, his hands glowed crimson and he flexed his fingers as if he were cracking his knuckles.
The video feeds switched to a helicopter view that panned out to show police cruisers racing toward him from all directions. Detonation stood his ground in the middle of a street in the business district. Uniformed officers worked to cordon off the area, working desperately to push back a cell phone clutching crowd more interested in recording the event than seeking safety.
I was reminded of how this city watched as my family died, chronicling the brutality of their deaths forever on mobile devices. Unable to bear witness any longer to what was happening on the screen, I turned my attention back to my glass, allowing the barely touched beer to become my world, desiring nothing more than to get drunk.
A collective gasp circumnavigated the room. Something bad had happened. I concentrated harder on my drink, staring into the brown liquid as if it would reveal answers to questions I’d yet to ask. I saw the faint image of my son’s face in my glass. Squeezing my eyelids
shut I tried not to think of him because it hurt so much.
The piped in music ceased and what little filters I had to block some of the patrons was gone. I feared what I knew was coming. The televisions had been muted before, leaving closed caption to describe the events on the screen, but now gunfire, explosions and animated narrations flooded the sports bars.
“…the criminal, Detonation, killed several officers as they…”
“…bullets are exploding harmlessly against Detonation’s skin…”
“…the police are unable to stop the Superior…”
“…several cruisers exploded…”
“…can no one stop him?”
I refused to acknowledge the mayhem being broadcasted, to become a witness to it; and I refused to see what the liquid in my glass wanted to reveal to me. The city let my family die. Whatever the villain did to this wretched city wouldn’t be my fault, it’d be theirs.
Finally, the gunshots and explosions ended. For a time I wondered if the sound had once again been muted, but I the voice of a newscaster shouted, “Detonation is gesturing for a camera crew to approach him! It appears he wants to speak!”
Typical. I shook my head. Why do they always want to talk? Why can’t they do whatever dirty deed they have to do and then call it the day? But no, they always want to announce their bold plan to the world.
Obviously, one of the news crews was brave enough to move toward him because Detonation’s voice came loud and clear across all the screens. “You know who I am! You know what I can do! My little brother was killed today,” he roared. “Blood has already been spilled, and more will come…”
Here it comes.
“…unless Night Siege comes out of the hole he’s hiding in to face me!”
The many stares I sensed on my back felt palpable. I didn’t acknowledge his words; I didn’t acknowledge their gazes and kept my eyes shut.
An anchorman detailed Detonation’s movements as he stepped off the blacktop street and onto the asphalt sidewalk toward one of the taller buildings. He described the Superior’s glowing hand slapping the surface of the large structure. Loud crackling noises, like embers in a fireplace, spewed from the sports bar’s speakers.
Despite myself I opened my eyes to stare up at one of the screens. An orange and red radiance spread throughout the building that had been touched, racing all the way to the top in a few seconds. His powers had literally turned the structure into a destructive weapon.
“Those inside are trapped,” Detonation announced. “If anyone tries to get out or enter, the building will explode, not only killing everyone inside, but taking out the twenty square blocks surrounding it!”
I didn’t doubt what he was saying. At one time I had planned to confront him, so I’d studied his abilities. He could control the amount of energy released. The bigger the object, the stronger he could make his explosions. If Detonation wanted to, he could destroy the entire city with just his touch.
“You have three hours to face me here, Night Siege, or countless people will die…” Detonation paused for effect, “…just like my little brother. Just like your wife and boy!”
I wasn’t even aware that I’d reacted until I heard the crack of straining wood. Looking down, the side of my fist had impaled the bar, crushing a section of it. The ripple effect had caused fissures to run lengthways, in both directions on the floor, stretching from end to end. My drink had somehow survived my outburst.
The bartender gaped. I craned my neck over my left shoulder and slowly panned to the right. Everyone stared expectantly in my direction. Had their memories really been that short?
I whirled around on them. “You got something to say, then say it,” I shouted.
“He wants you,” one of the patrons explained.
“So?”
“People are going to die,” another customer said.
I gave them all incredulous looks. “People die every day. It’s not my problem.”
“But you’re a hero,” the bartender said behind me.
“Was,” I corrected him. “I’m not anymore.” I pointed indiscriminately at faces in the sports bar. ”I won’t lift a single finger to help. All of you made sure of that. I’m going to watch this city burn and do nothing just like all of you did when my family was being slaughtered.”
An uncomfortable silence filled the room. I knew what they expected of me, but I wasn’t that guy anymore. Especially now, not on this day. Scooping up the drink from the bar, I drained the glass.
Putting my back to the crowd, I stormed out of the place, breaking the spell of quiet. Behind me, with fetid breaths, my name was being vilified as much as, if not more than, Detonation’s. A part of me couldn’t blame them for their anger. I understood their passion. When those people watched my family being murdered, it did more than simply make me give up my life as a superhero, the experience broke me to the point of impassiveness. Even knowing that, I couldn’t bring myself to forgive any of them for doing nothing.
Pulling on my hoodie, I once again returned to my private world of obscurity and isolation. I’d stepped out of that world once already and I ended up taking two lives, which in turn, led to even more deaths, with Detonation running amok in the city looking to settle a score.
All I wanted was black licorice, not trouble, but trouble always had a way of finding me. Questions swirled rampant in my mind: Why had it been today of all days? What had I done to the universe to make it place a bullseye on my chest? Was it guilt I felt? Was I blaming myself for what a madman was doing? I found myself adrift in a sea of my own making and I saw no way out of my predicament.
I should have been paying more attention to where I was walking; I narrowly avoided crashing through a store window. Stenciled on the large glass was Helen’s Bakery. Staring inside, I saw that the shop was empty. It appeared to have been hastily abandoned. Cash sat on the counter, boxed cakes ready for pickup had been dropped to the floor. Only then had I realized that many of the businesses on the block were left much the same. Glancing over my shoulder at the sports bar I had been, the patrons were rushing to their vehicles.
I’d been so lost in my own thoughts, that I ignored everything going on around me. What did I expect? A powerful Superior was threatening to blow up half the city if I didn’t stop him. Of course people were going to try to escape. The roads out were likely already choked with vehicles. People would be trapped on the highways as much as all those innocent folks in the building that Detonation had touched.
“It’s not my problem anymore,” I said to no one.
“Yes, it is,” a small voice countered.
I spun around to face the bakery. A boy stood inside the shop. No, not in the store, but on the glass, like a reflection. It was my son, Xavier. I glanced down to my side, ready to pick him up and never let him go, but no one was beside me. It was only my overactive imagination making me see my boy.
I returned my gaze to the glass. Xavier’s reflection remained. I dropped to my knees, resting one palm against the pane. “Xavier? Is that really you?” It couldn’t be of course. My child was dead.
“Daddy,” he said. It sounded so real. He laid his palm against mine and it felt real to me. “You have to help them, daddy.”
Tears ran down my cheeks. “They let you and your mother die,” I protested. “They don’t deserve my help.”
“You’re a hero, daddy.”
His words, so simple, so innocent, struck a nerve. “No, I’m not! That’s not me. Maybe it was never me.”
“You’re one to me,” he said.
“But I-I wasn’t there to save you… H-how can you still think that?”
Another voice said, “We don’t blame you.”
I stared up in disbelief. My wife, Catherine, stood beside Xavier. She got down on her knees, placing herself almost eye level with me. For a long time I couldn’t find words to say. It couldn’t be real; but the pleasant scent of her favorite perfume told me otherwise.
“You have to save t
hem,” she said.
Perhaps the Noricloregion in my blood system had finally broken down and was affecting my mind. They were buried six-feet under the earth. There was no coming back from that. I closed my eyes, counted to ten and opened them again. Catherine and Xavier were still there. If my mind was truly slipping into madness, I wasn’t sure it was a bad thing as long as my family was back with me.
“Catherine,” I said. “Are you real?”
“As real as I need to be for you, Ty,” she replied. “I’m always by your side. We both are.”
Her answer left me with more questions, but I couldn’t voice them. All I wanted was spend as much time as I could with my family.
“You have to save them,” they said in unison.
My gaze went to the ground. “They let you die.”
Her arm came through the glass and touched my chin, lifting my head up so I could look her in the eyes. “You didn’t let us die, Ty. They didn’t let us die either. What could they have done? If they helped, they would have died that day too.”
I took her hand and brought it to my lips. “I love you both,” I told them.
“I love you, daddy.”
“I love you, Ty.”
And just like that, they were gone. All that remained in the glass was my own reflection. Had it been real? Could it have been my guilt or the Noricloregion in my bloodstream that created them?
Did it matter?
I turned my attention in the direction of the business district. In the distance, a single, tall structure shone red and grew brighter by the minute like it was building up to critical mass.
Chapter Four
The Panagis
I fastened the last of the straps on the combat vest. The suit felt snug in some places. I must have gained a little weight. Need to lay off the TV dinners and donuts at night. Doing a quick inspection, I made sure I’d collected everything I needed for the coming battle. The deadline was almost up.
Black Power- The Superhero Anthology Page 27
