Bruce Foster
19th of February 2012
CHAPTER ONE
The fire was roaring. The fire was ferocious. The fire was never ending, golden, bright. The fire’s whispers were cool, placid. It’s wicked gold fingers slipped beneath the doors, and they tore the wood into messy splinters. After it was done with all the wood in the house it cunningly took on a harder prey; the stone, which it audibly crushed, blackened and split with horrid cracks. The house that had once stood proud and graceful on the boulevard was now nothing more then a mere ruin of its former self, with its face now blackened due to the cunning wit of the fire. But what’s that? Amongst the evil red flames their came a cry. Someone outside the fire heard it and he was dressed in red, with a large yellow oxygen tank slumped over his back. He stepped amongst the cunning of the fire.
Moments later with an axe in one hand and a 3-year-old child in the other he walked out of the wreckage. The burning blaze behind him made him look like a mirage as he stepped from the flames and returned the child to the world. The child had been the one to cry, but did not have a cut or bruise on him. Not even the wicked fire, which hacked the wood and slay the stone, could break the child’s flesh.
Bruce’s eyes snapped open and he could feel the heat of the flames on his cheek, but the feeling did not last long. The same dream again, always that dream, it made him feel scared to fall asleep. It was therefore a good thing that sleeping was not a usual occurrence for him. Bruce was quite an extraordinary person in this way, and many others.
The dream, however, held no ambiguity over him, for he knew that the baby boy in the dream was himself, Bruce Foster, and he knew that the house that was on fire had once been his own.
He sat up carefully and looked up and down the dark empty alleyway where he had been sleeping. The air must still be frigid for he could Sense that the last fragmented pieces of winter essence were not yet spent, but he did not feel the cold, he never did. After contemplating this for a moment he pulled on his thick, weathered leather boots and got on his long, black, winter coat. He picked up the cardboard which he had used as a mattress and flung it into the nearest trashcan but he decided to keep the newspaper which he had used as an impromptu blanket, it would make good kindling. Immediately after this he squatted in the middle of the dreary alleyway, and once again looked around. There was nothing, not even the quietest, smallest stir of a dormouse. The only source of light was the pallid full moon, which bathed the alleyway with its partial light, and highlighted a few wispy clouds that were traveling across the star encrusted night sky.
He checked his watch and found it to be no wonder no one was out and about on the streets; it was 2:47 in the morning. So knowing he was not being observed by anyone else he pulled the black leather glove off of his right hand and pointed his index finger at the crumpled newspaper, which lay under a small cauldron like pot on an iron tripod. For a second or so his face was screwed up into a painful mask of concentration, as he let the power flow from himself and allowed a trickle of liquid gold flame to pour out of his palm and down his finger. As soon as the trickle of flame touched the newspaper, it was lit.
About three minutes later Bruce checked to see if the water in the pot was boiling and finding that it was, poured in some cut up lamb meat, which he had collected the day before. He mixed in a few spices and some old gravy powder.
He smiled softly to himself as the warm spicy scent of the stew wafted up towards his nostrils.
He had just poured some stew into a wooden bowl and was about to take his first mouthful when he heard a soft scuttling noise behind him. Bruce turned around to see a sad, lowly looking rat. It must have ventured from the warmth of its burrow because it smelt his lamb stew, it is a shame its quest for food would be in vain.
“Shoo!” Bruce said softly, his voice still croaky from sleep. The rat did not stir; it just sat there staring at him with beady eyes, its need for food must be great. Bruce tried to scare it away a few more times, but he soon grew impatient and without even checking to see if he was being watched, he held out his ungloved right hand and pointed his finger at the rat. With minimal effort he shot a long tendril of crimson flame at the rat and gave it quite a shock. The rat gave a terrified squeak, and took off at high speed, it’s fur still smoldering slightly. Bruce snickered as he continued to eat. After having finished his stew he cleared up the cauldron and put out the fire using questionable but practical means. He pulled a map out of his pocket and used his finger to trace the route he would take to get to his next victim’s house.
‘Ahhh yes, number 7 Crescent road.’ he thought to himself. He had been studying the daily schedules of those who lived there for about a month. They were a young couple that lived on a huge apple orchard where they owned a large grey stoned mansion that stood in the middle of the grounds. The only reason the man could afford the house was because he, Otto Lomswell, was the quintessential lawyer; he was a rat, a snake. Bruce knew nothing of the woman he was with, but if she could stomach being around someone like Otto, she was obviously just as devious. He ground his teeth as he reminisced, as he thought over Otto’s betrayal. Otto could only afford that house because of the Boot family. Unwanted memories of death and judges flashed and flared to life in Bruce’s mind.
“Stop” he muttered, and rubbed his temples, “concentrate.”
Once again he glanced at his cheap watch and saw that it was the 19th of February 2012. Good, it was a Sunday that means that the couple would still be out of town on their usual weekend trip. After having read the map for the 15th time he stowed it back into his pocket and hid his cauldron like pot and tripod behind a large red dumpster in the alleyway. He then buttoned himself up and pulled on his glove. Bruce only wears gloves and a coat, not because he feels the cold, but because if he did not he would attract too much attention.
Before he stepped out of the alley he put on a large black backpack and stepped up to a cracked mirror and saw his reflection. He had long, shaggy, dark brown hair and a young, pale, heart shaped face. His chin was pointed, and he had a heavy brow and jaw line, and had uncanny, silvery eyes. He wore a long black winter coat, black jeans, black leather gloves and worn black leather boots. He smiled at his reflection and pulled on a pair of sunglasses, even though there was no sun. The glasses might attract a little attention in these kinds of conditions but it was nothing compared to the attention he would receive if anyone saw him using his Sight, which made his eyes glow with an eerie bright blue light. Furthermore, Bruce found that his eyes glowed more brightly and more fiercely when he was in the moonlight. His power of Sight helped him to see what was hidden from mortal eyes.
After he had finished admiring his own reflection he walked out of the alley and along a dark, icy pavement.
The buildings that towered over him were gray, silent and still. They reminded him of large, icy, rectangular shaped sentinels, standing guard with their darkened window eyes.
Nothing was stirring, and the only thing that Bruce could hear initially was an icy zephyr that rolled down the street as he walked. He had been walking for about two minutes before a small looking tramp came from the darkness. For a few seconds Bruce thought the tramp would simply walk across the street and then pass him, as they were traveling in opposite directions. This assumption would have been wrong as Bruce suddenly saw that the tramp was wielding a long, jagged dagger. It glittered with a deadly light.
“Give me ‘ur wallet!” he snarled pushing Bruce up against the wall, holding the knife to his throat. At first Bruce was surprised, this kind of thing never happened because he usually Sensed the presence of danger, even if it was as slight as this. When he did not answer, the beggar gave Bruce a drunken stare.
“Give me ‘ur wallet.” He said again, this time leaning in towards Bruce so that he could smell the tramp’s beer-stained breath. Bruce had no time for this, so as soon as the beggar had finished his last sentence Bruce unleashed the power he had been holding back since the start of the confrontation.
A huge colorless wave, like that from dropping a stone into water, exploded out of him, rippled through the air and threw the screaming beggar up into the night sky. It was a few moments before he was brought back to Earth and landed on a car on the other side of the cobbled street. The car crumpled under the sudden weight and the alarm went off immediately. Bruce leapt up to the half dead man and leant in close.
“Fool.” Bruce muttered, his cold voice chilling the beggars already frozen bones. The tramp was looking up at Bruce, and while a horrified light filled his eyes his mouth, nose and ears dripped with blood.
“You…human not…” the beggar croaked and spluttered. All Bruce did was grin a grin that displayed his impossibly white teeth. Suddenly, Bruce saw a few windows light up in the building nearest to him and he heard police sirens in the distance. So, thinking that he might have overstayed his welcome, he disappeared into the night.
After a few minutes of casual sprinting Bruce arrived at the walls of Otto’s mansion and stopped just outside the big wrought iron gates. Unfortunately for him there were guards on duty. Bruce had planned to come at a time when they had been changing shifts or were not on duty, but it seems that they were not following the usual routine. Why was that? For a second Bruce thought of simply not breaking into the house tonight. He was rather unsettled by the fact that the guards had changed their schedule. Furthermore Bruce felt quite disconcerted about the confrontation he had just had with the tramp. Why had he not Sensed the danger? Would it really be wise to try to break in tonight? But then an image of Otto’s face swam into his mind’s eye, his pointed rat face grinning evilly. Immediately anger drowned out his fears, and washed them away. ‘It will happen tonight’ Bruce thought as he walked silently up to the foot of the huge white marble wall.
There would be five guards on duty, Bruce knew this much. Three would be patrolling the perimeter of the wall, each with their own pair of viscous hounds. Two more would be guarding the perimeter of the mansion and there would be one guard inside the mansion itself. Bruce turned on his sight, and suddenly the world turned blue. All the inanimate objects lit up with a violent violet light, and one of the wall guards glowed with a ghostly red light on the other side of the wall. His two dogs did the same. Bruce could See that the other two wall patrolmen were much further away, so he decided to act now. Bruce turned off his Sight and closed his eyes. He focused on the guard, and his two dogs. Bruce Felt them stirring, moving, breathing. He Heard their hearts beating; he could Hear the sinew in the guard’s neck strain as his head swiveled about. He could Hear the dogs panting. Then he used telekinesis and lifted the guard and his dogs up into the air. At the same time, he kept their mouths shut so that no scream or yelp emitted from any of their mouths. He dropped them, and with a sickening thump and all three of them hit the ground and was immediately knocked unconscious.
A cunning smile spread across Bruce’s face as he marveled at the simplicity of breaking and entering. He had had years of practice, while the guards were probably ill trained and not very bright. ‘Child’s play’ thought Bruce as the dull brass number 7 reflected the pale moonlight. He then leapt, as light as a feather, over the five-meter high wall.
Bruce heard his boots crush the frost-coated grass as he landed on the other side. He sat up so slowly and so quietly that he could not even hear his own breathing. The grass that he treaded on was well cut and greener than was usual this time of year. Bruce looked up and there in the distance, bathed in a frosted mist, was the mansion built of large grey stones. There would be no further interference until he reached the mansion itself, but even from here Bruce could tell that by the time he reached the mansion, no guard would be near where he would be. He then proceeded to sprint past large, lush looking apple trees and he got to the mansion’s front door soon. Just as he had jumped over the wall he leapt towards the nearest window and stood on the narrow sill. Now the reason he didn’t break in through the door is because it is more difficult to pick the lock with telekinesis than the window, and because there is most probably a silent alarm protecting the door.
A bolt from the inside, of course, locked the window, but this would pose no problem. Bruce concentrated all his strength on the iron bolt and moved his head to the side slightly. The bolt moved in the same direction as his head and the window was soon unlocked.
Before he stepped through the window he turned on his Sight once more. The dark room that he had been looking into suddenly became filled with a blue light and once again all the lifeless objects lit up with that same violet light. Bruce’s Sight showed no signs of an alarm or any other such traps. The only living thing he could see was a cat, glowing with an eerie red light, on the other side of the wall. He turned off his Sight, opened the window and stepped through it, and onto an expensive Persian rug.
He felt a greedy gleam in the depths of his eyes light up as he surveyed the room, which was filled with the most expensive furniture, and ornaments, he had ever seen, and Bruce had seen some very fancy stuff. The room he was in was large and circular, its walls were lined with bookshelves and there was a large red-stone fireplace near to the heavy mahogany door. A large oak desk stood opposite to the fireplace and was covered in large dusty books, short pencils, inkless pens, messy quills, dragonhead bookends, and papers filled with neat, soulless writing.
He was obviously in the study; this must be where Otto works. “Otto”, muttered Bruce as hatred roiled inside him, making his stomach twist and turn. Otto must be punished, and the only way to really punish those selfish materialistic people is by stealing from them. ‘Well,’ Bruce thought, ‘it’s not really stealing because half of this stuff was actually stolen and the other half was bought with stolen money.’ He reached out and picked one of the large books up. As soon as his fingers touched the waning leather cover he was overcome by an unpleasant sense of nostalgia. Memories of a dead woman, a monster, a small black haired girl and a courthouse sprang up into his head.
‘Snap out of it Bruce! Pull yourself together!’ he thought sharply to himself as he shook off the pangs of the sudden reminiscence and dropped the book back on the desk. He shook his head once more and pulled the black rucksack off his back. Bruce unzipped it and filled it with the fancy looking dragonhead bookends. He threw a few pens, some new Cuban cigars and a wicked looking lighter that seemed to be made from ivory. However, fearing what would happen if he touched another book, he decided to scour the rest of the house in search of further treasures.
Once again he turned on his Sight and once again the room was filled with a blue light.
‘Hmmm…that’s strange.’ Bruce thought as he glanced past the wall and saw not one cat but two. ‘Where had the other one come from?’ It seems as if his Senses had not been working so well today. His cheerful mood was suddenly overcome with panic, ‘what if I’m losing my powers? What if after all these years of getting revenge I am caught and jailed again?’
Then the cool voice of reason stifled the hot flow of panic. ‘No, it’s a big house, the cat could just have come from downstairs or another room… No, impossible, if I was going to lose my powers there would be other signs and besides, if I did, does that mean that they would be gone forever or just temporarily? Don’t jump to conclusions; I’m sure that everything will be fine.’
Bruce, having Seen that there were no alarms, turned off his Sight, opened the door and stepped into a stone corridor. It was empty, silent and smelt strongly of sleaze and cats. The stone corridor he was standing in was long and, at both ends, led to a large spiral staircase made of stolen ivory. There were at least eight rooms stretched out in front of him, and, being the inquisitive type, he decided to enter all of them.
The first two were guest bedrooms filled with wardrobes, expensive clothes, ornaments and wallets filled to the brim with money. He took it all.
The next three were bathrooms, not much in there except expensive perfumes and shampoos. Now normally he would not have taken such things but being in a relatively spiteful mood, he took it all.
The next was a huge library, and still feeling scared about touching books he decided to leave.
To Bruce’s utmost surprise the remaining two rooms were empty. But being someone you can’t fool twice, he used his Sight to find at least three safes hidden in secret compartments behind the walls of each room. ‘Woah, that’s weird’ he thought as he turned off his Sight and shrugged his shoulders uncomfortably. Bruce’s back was aching slightly and sweat was dribbling down his nose. “I – I never sweat.” Bruce stuttered out loud.
Panic returned. His heart began to thump audibly in his chest and this time the voice of reason was drowned out by the thundering amounts of panic that were flowing into his stomach. So, trying to calm himself he stepped up to the first safe. He concentrated with all his might on the safe behind the wall and willed it to open, but nothing happened.
Panic, heart thumping. Panic, thoughts fading.
He stepped up to the next safe. It did not open either.
Panic, more panic.
‘What the hell is happening? Am I losing my powers? This has never happened, in all the years of having these powers nothing like this has ever happened.’
“What’s going on?” Bruce said out loud as he stepped up to the last safe. He ran up to the wall and smacked it with clenched fists.
“Open! Open!” he yelled.
Sweat was now raining down his face.
He had to get out of here, something was wrong. Bruce leapt into action and hoisted on his bag. He had to get out quickly. Foreboding was filling his head now, and he had a cold sensation on his skin. ‘It’s amazing how one minute you can be okay but the next, you’re falling to pieces, could things get any worse?’
Bruce found that the answer to that question was ‘yes’ as he stepped out of the room.
Bruce saw something in the corner of his eye. It was as dark as shadow; yet he sensed it was a lot more solid. He stopped in his tracks, and spun to face it. His eyes widened with amazement as he gazed upon a body that lay on the landing. The landing had been empty not two minutes ago. This, however, was not the most amazing part. The body that lay on the ground was none other than Otto. Bruce could not believe what he was seeing. This could not be true. ‘Otto, is away. He’s on holiday.’ Bruce thought, his breaths coming out in sharp bursts of panic. Bruce was cautious, and was confused, tired and frightened. A combination of feelings he had not felt since his unjust trial. Carefully Bruce inched nearer and nearer to Otto, ‘or Otto’s body’ Bruce thought. When he finally reached the body, which in itself took what seemed to be an eternity, Bruce lowered himself and gently nudged the body with the end of his boot. Immediately, alarms went off, loud and clear, in Bruce’s mind and his Sight involuntarily switched on. Otto’s body was drenched in blue light, but the body itself shone with the most frightening emerald green light Bruce had ever seen. At the same time the body morphed. The body no longer looked like Otto, instead it shivered and rippled, fierce bat like wings erupted from its body until it took the form of – Bruce’s Sight turned off, again, this was of its own accord. Plumes of white-hot fear burst in Bruce’s mind and ran down to his stomach, chilling it. The liquid fear also ran to his legs and turned them to lead. Bruce dared not move as Otto’s body leapt to life and proceeded to fling itself at him.
At first Bruce did nothing, then suddenly his legs sprang back to life. Bruce swerved and Otto’s body missed, and because of his messy attempt to jump on Bruce, he fell over. It was at this point that Bruce noticed the body was wielding a rather nasty looking needle. Bruce also noticed that his sense of humor had partially returned, and, trying to make light of the situation, he said, “Oi! It’s not nice to try to shove needles into people!” However, Bruce cringed at this. ‘Well that was a lame attempt at a joke’ he thought.
Bruce, however, was not off his game, and stood ready to fight once more. Bruce gasped as he gazed upon the body. It was no longer Otto’s body; it was instead the body of a tall Caucasian man, wearing a black suit and black sunglasses. It reminded Bruce of those Agent guys from the Matrix, the only movie he had ever watched at the Orphanage.
The strange man did not respond his face was emotionless, neutral. “Who the hell are you?” Bruce asked, knowing he was definitely not a guard.
Suddenly the man was up and upon Bruce again. ‘Woah,’ Bruce thought, he had never seen anyone move that fast before, besides himself of course. Bruce was shocked to see the man’s big ugly face so up close. Once again his Senses had failed. Bruce concentrated on his powers, and allowed the dam in which he kept them to open up. Liquid fire sprang to life all the way along his arms, and he gave his newly found friend a full blast of it. The man didn’t scream, as most people would, as he was thrown high into the air, and catapulted across the room. He landed prostrate on the floor, his suit was smoking, singed, and he didn’t stir.
‘Okay I think it’s time to go’ Bruce thought as he picked up his bag, which had fallen off, and sprinted back along the corridor and into the study.
Questions sprang up like fireworks in his mind as he ran. Who was that guy? Were there more? How had I not seen him with my Sight? What was wrong with my powers? Why do I feel, dare I say, sick? And why had my firepowers worked back there but my telekinesis didn’t? Even though the questions were important he decided that they should be saved for later evaluation, because right now all he cared about was escaping with the loot.
Bruce entered the study once again, and switched on his Sight. Well at least he tried, because nothing happened. ‘Come on!’ he shouted in his mind with frustration. Bruce ran for the window but before he opened it he heard something outside, and saw lights shining. ‘Perfect!’ he thought, as he glanced outside.
Bruce’s stomach did a triple summersault. The orchard, which had been empty about an hour ago, was now overflowing with police scum. This included at least fifteen SUV vehicles and two helicopters equipped with huge floodlights that shone with eye stunning rays. Bruce’s jaw fell open as he realized that the people outside were not really policemen, they all looked exactly like the man who had just attacked him. This was no exaggeration for every single man or Agent wore the same suit, same sunglasses and the same expression. They looked like clones.
Bruce fell to the ground as he saw hundreds of those same strange men outside. He had had to deal with police before, but never of this magnitude! Further more, they were different to police he had fought before. They had a strange blood red symbol inscribed on their breast pockets and on the side of their black SUV vehicles and pitch-black helicopters. The questions tore back into his mind, afresh, as Bruce sat in the dark, breathing deeply, sweating. ‘Who were these guys? How did they know I was here? Why were my powers not working properly? What had happened to the regular guards who patrolled here? And what was even stranger was the fact that none of them had guns, what’s up with that?’ Now, usually Bruce was not scared of policemen for they posed no problem for him, neither did their weapons, but as his powers were acting strangely at the moment, he couldn’t just run out there like he usually did. ‘Were they the reason I felt like death?’ He had to find out these answers and the only way to do that was to escape. The situation had changed fast. Bruce felt stunned.
So he stayed hidden, and with a bit of luck he would be able to wade this out till the strange policemen left.
Or maybe not, is what he thought as a cylindrical device came hurtling from outside, shattering the window in the process. It was a smoke grenade, Bruce surmised, for noxious fumes of grey smoke spewed forth as soon as it had hit the desk. He quickly covered his mouth and nose with his sleeve, as his eyes began to itch and his throat started to burn. Soon, Bruce felt his lungs squeeze and his heart began to palpitate. Scared out of his wits, Bruce acted by means of reflex action. He instantly leapt to his feet, opened the window and leapt, in one single enormous bound, to the roof. He had not done this consciously of course, but what ever that smoke had been, it would have killed him if he had stayed in that room any longer. All he knew was that he had to get out of there, and that he couldn’t drop back onto the ground. The roof was the only option.
However had Bruce thought about this rationally, he would have worked out that if he did get to the roof he would have to outwit the helicopters that were patrolling the outside. Bruce coughed, spluttered, and stood up slowly his head was still dizzy.
Bruce’s head was pounding slightly and he was completely drenched in sweat. What was happening? As he stood on the roof, confused, he saw a helicopter swoop out of the sky above him. Almost immediately four Agents leapt from the chopper and landed around him. They had they’re fists up and were ready to fight. Wielding all the strength he had, Bruce focused on them and blasted them backwards with the same ripple he had used on the tramp. The Agents flew through the air and two fell off the roof, the other two had managed to latch on to the edges and clambered back on. Suddenly something buzzed past Bruce’s ear, “Woah!” he shouted. ‘What the hell was wrong with my Senses today? I should have seen that coming, speaking of which what was that?’
He spun around to see another long dart sticking out of the roof a few meters away from him. It had come from the helicopter that was hovering above him. ‘They were trying to dart me? Subdue me? Capture me still? Why not just shoot me down after what I had just done to the Agents? Had they not seen that I had just thrown them off the roof without touching them? Most guys would have tried to kill me by now! What was going on?’ he thought angrily.
The two Agents were back and Bruce was in no fit state to fling them off again, so he resorted to flames. Bruce let liquid fire flow from his palms, and he threw handfuls of molten flame at the two Agents who dodged them easily. ‘What? Most guys would have gone green and willfully leapt off of the roof!’
Bruce tried to subdue his assailants with flame a few more times and successfully sent one of them over the edge of the roof. The other was still clinging on.
Suddenly a piercing pain exploded through him as a dart grazed his arm. “Damn it!” Bruce shouted out aloud as he fell over because of the shock. Bruce saw blood running down his arm, lost his grip and began to slide down the steep roof. Before he could stop himself he felt an uncanny fuzziness invade his vision and he fell from the roof.
Bruce landed with a loud thump on the ground and tried to stand. He felt ill, dizzy, nauseated, and disorientated. Bruce suddenly came to the conclusion that these policemen were aware of his powers, and they had worked out a way to subdue him. Panic invaded Bruce’s clouded mind, and he shivered with fear. Suddenly his eyes cleared. He stood up. He looked around and his mouth dropped open. There were hundreds of Agents all around him, and they didn’t waste any time. They hurled themselves at him, each carrying one of those darts that contained a liquid that could stop him.
Soon, anger replaced fear, and Bruce growled with rage as he fought off the swarm of Agents. He used all of his most devastating powers to blast them backwards, but the poison diluted his abilities, and his head was spinning and the ground beneath his feet seemed to shake. He used telekinesis and picked them up and knocked them into each other; he threw handfuls of flame from his hands to incinerate them; he shot torrents of water from his arms to knock them back and drown them; he opened the earth beneath them to swallow them up and imprison them; but all these attempts were futile, for even his telekinetic shields were of no use.
Soon Bruce, exhausted as he was, resorted to hand to hand combat.
Luckily, none of the darts managed to properly pierce his flesh and the helicopters were nowhere to be seen. Why was that?
Bruce was growing more and more tired, it seems that the dart had hindered him quite badly. Bruce soon felt so nauseated that he almost resorted to vomiting on his assailants to keep them away, but he didn’t think that would have worked, as they showed no emotion of any kind, and they seemed to feel no pain either and were incredibly resilient, like large, bipedal, well dressed cockroaches.
Suddenly, an idea seized Bruce. The SUVs. He could hijack one and ride away! Bruce didn’t think twice about this plan for he saw that the helicopters were returning. He leapt as high as he could under these conditions and landed near to one of the SUVs. As quick as lighting, he leapt up and smashed his fist through the windscreen, ripped out the Agent who hid inside and through him at the huge mob of Agents that straggled behind him. Suddenly helicopters swerved down over Bruce and he saw a wave of darts shot out of the air, the flood of panic returned. He used his inhuman agility to dodge them and anger displaced the knot of panic that lay inside of him. “That is it!” he bellowed. As quick as a flash he ran up to the SUV parked next to him, and with Agent and all, threw it at the helicopter. There was a colossal boom as the helicopter burst into flames and fragmented pieces of molten metal.
“Take that you bastards!” he shouted as the shock wave of the explosion rippled through the air, and the fiery wreckage came crashing to the ground.
By now Bruce wouldn’t have expected the Agents to be even slightly perturbed by this, and they weren’t. The Agents ignored the explosion for all they did was leap up at Bruce once again.
After having shaken them off once more he leapt back into his car and started the engine using magical means. By now Bruce felt like he had been hit by several buses and had been caught in a stampede. Every inch of his body ached, his mind felt numb, the borders of his vision were blurred and white dots floated by in his peripheral vision. He felt himself begin to lose consciousness. He had never encountered any weapon, or poison in this case, which could make his strength wane. Sure, Bruce could get tired, but he had never been so exhausted so quickly before. Bruce put the SUV into reverse and did a full 180-degree turn. He accelerated to maximum speed and soon the car was flying along the uneven terrain.
Bruce was now unable to think properly, he felt sluggish and ill. He didn’t know where he was going; he did not know what to do. Then, as if from true inspiration, an idea dawned on him. And it was like seeing the red sunlight of dawn break over the horizon, shining rays of hope, after a long and terrible night.
The river. The river he had once visited as a child. He was right by the river! It had been a field trip, a happy trip, as it meant he would not have to spend the day working at the Boot Family Orphanage. But this day, which had started out well, ended badly as Bruce found himself trapped in the raging river. He was unable to beat the current, and was dragged under and tossed around again and again. It had been at that moment, that Bruce had first teleported.
Bruce had teleported into a small, empty street. When he sat up, gasping for air, he saw that he was actually lying right in the middle of the road. He then saw a car approach him. The car stopped, a man got out, and the man drove him back to the orphanage. He told no one what had happened. He had been six years old at the time.
Bruce had not teleported since. It was incredibly difficult for him to teleport, and he surmised that the reason for this was that he could only get in the right state of mind to teleport if he was in real danger. It was like an innate defense mechanism.
Bruce thought that if he had teleported once because he fell into a river, than falling into the same river may trigger the same reaction. His chances of success were slim, as he did not know how the dart poison might affect his teleportation ability, so he may end up killing himself. However, what else could he do? This was his best chance at survival.
Bruce found his mind sharpened slightly, for he now had a goal in mind. It may not work but he needed to try.
As his mind was still relatively numb and feeble, he didn’t even flinch as he crashed threw the black wrought iron gates and made his way out of the apple orchard and onto a small dirt road.
After a few minutes of reckless driving, Bruce made it onto the freeway. These few minutes had been quiet; there had been no sign of trouble, and luckily there was no one on the road, so traffic would not be a problem. However, his luck soon ran out. Suddenly, two black helicopters swooped down from nowhere and darts rained down on Bruce’s stolen SUV. The darts fortunately did not get through or seriously puncture the windscreen, but they did crack it and make it very difficult to drive. Bruce peered through the window screen and made a feeble attempt to turn on his Sight. This failed however. Bruce then went into a tunnel to evade the helicopters. Bruce also knew that after he came out of the tunnel he would go over a bridge. This bridge was built over the river, so what he would have to do was use the last of his telekinetic strength to help smash his way through the bridge’s barrier.
‘Just a few more meters’ Bruce thought, as panic began to flood his chest. Suddenly Bruce felt himself fly sideways as another SUV collided into his own, making him swerve and almost stop. Bruce quickly corrected himself and then swerved into the SUV that had hit him. There was a thunderous crash as the SUVs collided once more. The SUV that had attacked him swerved and did a full 360-degree turn. It then proceeded to crash into the tunnel’s wall and was ultimately stopped. ‘Yes!’ Bruce thought as he came out of the tunnel.
Immediately two black helicopters swooped down to greet him and two fresh waves of darts exploded from the helicopters. It was now or never, he turned the SUV sharply and narrowly avoided the darts. He could now hear the raging river, and it was now that he panicked the most, for he would most surely die if he did not teleport.
However, the panic that rose in him did not make him slow down, instead it made him speed up, and it made him use the last of his telekinetic strength to blast his way through the bridge’s barricade. Bruce flew forwards and hurtled through the windscreen, which sent bits of glass and stray darts, which had got stuck in the windscreen, flying. Bruce was now soaring through the air, and time seemed to slow. The helicopters roared above him, the river thundered below him. It was at this time that Bruce’s panic wriggled its way through the cracks in his sober appearance. ‘This was a bad idea!’ shrieked his Panic as the river grew closer and closer. ‘No, this was the only way, this has to work!’ his Hope retorted.
‘We shall soon see’ replied Bruce as the SUV and he hit the icy water of the river. Bruce was immediately dragged under, and his world went cold, icy. He was no longer fully conscious. He felt himself spin, and roil, felt his head hit the riverbed, the thundering river and roaring helicopter were gone, and he was deaf. He was blind. The freezing water was crushing Bruce, and bubbles shot out of his mouth as the murderous river squeezed his lungs and forced his breath out.
All of a sudden an eerie feeling possessed him. It was the same feeling that had took hold of Bruce when he was a child. Bruce smiled. He gave into the feeling.
Bruce was everywhere, his consciousness split into thousands of fragments. He was no longer one person at one place; he was now everything everywhere. His vision was splintered into thousands of trillions of pieces, like that of a fly, and he saw many images simultaneously. He was everywhere, and yet he was nowhere, for he was not himself, he was everyone and everything. Then, he was pulled back together, his split vision knitted itself back into one piece, he was himself once more, but he was no longer in the river. Instead he found himself lying in a small alley, the same alley he had been in earlier that morning, the alley where he had cooked his food and badly singed that rat.
Bruce spluttered and moaned as he heaved his truly exhausted and decrepit body across the ground. He did so until he got to the side of the alley and could lean his back up against the wall as he sat. He dry heaved, but nothing came. He was much too tired to be nauseated now. His vision was more impaired than ever, but he could still tell that most of his winter coat, and gloves were ruined, having been burnt by his conjured fire and torn during the attacks. He then noticed that he still had his backpack but his sunglasses were missing, but he was too tired to care. ‘I’m safe now… I’m alive…’ he thought as relief poured through him. Bruce slipped into a dreadful sleep.
An icy chill ran down his spine and a mysterious image filled his mind. It was an image of a massive man who stood shrouded in shadows. The only thing that Bruce could make out was a jade green ring that the man wore on his right index finger. It glittered with a strange light.
Luke Dysan
17th of February 2012
CHAPTER TWO
At last, Luke saw the fruits of his labor. For months he had been toiling and tinkering in his workshop, fiddling around with circuit boards and bits of copper wire. Trying, with great caution and frustration, to glue the correct parts together in such a way that would bestow life on his new creation. There had been times when Luke had simply given up, when the plastic casing he had set himself, crumbled to dust before his eyes because he had not set it correctly. It was at this point, and others much like it, that he would brake down, nearly crying. Then he would pick himself up off his messy, book-ridden desk, lift his chin up, go downstairs, make himself some tea and return to his work station.
There had also been that time when the car-battery he had used on his first ‘draft’ caused his desk to burst into flames. This of course, did not make his parents very happy and so resulted in a complete ban: he was forbidden to touch or tinker with any kind of circuitry. However, Luke was a very clever young man, and was well versed in many different kinds of persuasive techniques. He knew exactly what to do to get his mother and father to lower the ban to a few weeks. He knew their weak points.
So one day, after having planned his words very carefully, he had got the permanent ban down to 3 weeks. It was then, two short months later, before he had created, completely from scratch, a miniature not-so-exact replica of an AgustaWestland Apache Mk1.
‘The turmoil was so worth it!’ he thought, beaming and smiling to himself as his toy helicopter buzzed about in the crisp dusk air.
Luke’s large Victorian style house was built right next to a immense dense forest. Luke had always wanted to go into the forest, and have a bit of an adventure. But of course, his parents insisted that he stay as close to the house as possible, “You don’t know what could be hiding in those woods” Luke’s father, Jerry, had said one evening after Luke had been caught trying to sneak into the forest. “But where’s your sense of adventure?” Luke had asked, his eyes bright with enthusiasm. “My sense of adventure was killed in that damn motor-cycle accident I had when I was younger. I was very lucky to have lived! Now I want you to promise me you wont go near those woods.” Luke glanced, crest-fallen, at the ground. He knew he had been beaten, and there was no sense arguing. Jerry was very particular when it came to this sort of thing. Luke sighed, “I promise.” Luke’s persuasive abilities were not always foolproof.
Luke thought of all this as he sat on the dark, grassy ground, staring up at his beautiful helicopter.
The forest was dark and daunting now, and the sparkling colors of the flowering plants began to fade to a dim black. The sun was fading quickly, the wraiths of wispy clouds that lingered above Luke were stained a dark red by the dying sunlight. The air was growing frigid, and he knew he would soon be called inside to have dinner. Luke was just getting ready to stand up and lower his helicopter safely to the ground when suddenly, for no reason what so ever, it fell out of the sky and rocketed towards the earth. Luke gasped with frightened panic as it hit the ground and was smashed into a thousand pieces. Luke’s jaw fell open. The remote control fell from his now outstretched hands. He could not believe it! He fell to his knees, shaking with utter amazement and rage. “GOD DAMMIT!” he bellowed, smashing the now broken helicopter with his fists. Anger rippled through him. Six months. It had taken him six months to build that, and for what? The first time he friggin’ used it, it broke?
He grabbed his remote control, his actions jerky with anger. ‘Could it have been the battery in the remote?’ Bruce opened up the battery-storage part of the remote, and pulled them out. He examined the two of them very carefully. They looked fine, and he had bought them that morning, they could not possibly be dead already. He put them back into the remote. However, the green LED light that usually indicated that there was power did not turn on. ‘How peculiar’ he thought, whilst he turned the remote on its side, looking for any cracks or other signs of damage. Luke’s fiery anger cooled and was soon distilled into curiosity. He began to take the remote apart (using the screw driver and assorted tools he always kept in his jacket pockets) and examined its innards. The remote was fine Luke had done everything correctly. ‘Well, I must have’ he thought, ‘otherwise the helicopter would not have worked in the first place.’ Luke than moved towards the helicopter and pulled out its single, large, cube shaped battery. It too looked perfectly fine, but it did not work. Luke did not know how long he sat on the ground for, nor did he know how long he was oblivious to his mother’s shouts. Finally, he snapped out of his trance, and heard her. “Luke! Luke!” she shouted, her head hanging from the top floor window. He leapt to his feet. “Finally! Could you please come up stairs and take a look at this damn TV? It won’t bloody work!”
‘So now the appliances don’t work either?’ he thought to himself, curiosity blooming and expanding inside of him as he ran (while the helicopter lay in the grass, completely forgotten) towards the house. He entered the house via the glass-sliding door and bolted up the two flights of stairs. He was soon in his mother’s bedroom. “I don’t bloody believe it, we bought this damn thing not a day ago, and it won’t turn on! AH! I really hate technology.” Luke’s mother, Valerie, shouted, her brows narrowed into a frown that made her otherwise conventionally pretty face seem shrewd. “Come now mother, let’s face it, you’re not the best person when it comes to dealing with technology.” Luke stated, thinking about the time she had had a fit because her computer had frozen. Turns out, Valerie would click on an application, and then when it didn’t appear immediately, would click the same application a million times, thus causing the computer to get stuck. Valerie was not exactly the most patient person in the world. However, Luke was patient, a trait that he received from his father.
As Luke bent down to take a look at the TV he could not help but think that this must some how be connected to what happened to his helicopter. But how could it be? With this thought, the curiosity that had accumulated within Luke suddenly dissolved into molten anger as he reminisced over his helicopter once more. ‘I must have done something wrong’, he thought, to himself as he checked to see if the TV was plugged in properly. ‘Nothing wrong there’ he thought. He then opened up the TV to take a closer look inside. ‘Besides, the only way the two events could be connected was if there was some sort of force that stopped the electricity in the circuits from working properly and such a disturbance would have turned the lights off’. And just like magic, the lights throughout the entire house went off. The room was plunged into darkness. The only light came from the waning blood red sun that sank into the west.
“What now?” sighed Valerie.
Luke sat bolt upright. Something was not right indeed. He span around, dropped his tools, and ran to the window. All the lights in all the houses across the dark street went off. ‘There must be some kind of disturbance’ Luke thought, the cogs of his mind whirring, ‘there must be some sort of electrical interference.’ Suddenly there was a loud crash of metal against wood just outside the window. Luke and Valerie ran downstairs to get a closer look at what happened.
As Luke ventured outside he saw a small, decrepit red truck protruding from a large wooden house. The house belonged to one his neighbors, the Wilson family, who were currently away on holiday. ‘Thank God’ Luke thought, ‘someone may have been seriously injured if they had still been at home.’
Very soon lots of people had clambered out onto the streets, most of them shivered in the frigid early spring air, as they were not wearing proper clothes for that sort of weather. By the looks on the people’s faces, most of them had probably been watching TV or taking a nap at the time. Suddenly, light exploded forth from Luke’s house and the street lamps flooded the road with a bright, piercing light. ‘The lights are back on’ Luke thought, looking confusedly around. ‘This is by far one of the most peculiar things that has ever happened to this little town’.
A few moments later police and ambulance sirens could be heard, and about a half a minute later the ambulance and police had arrived. The ambulance helped to pull a short, bald man (who Luke identified as being his physics teacher, Mr. Faraday) from the red vehicle and got him safely into the ambulance. “Don’t worry kid, he’s only got a few scratches and bruises, he’ll be fine.” Said a long-legged paramedic as he spotted Bruce’s worried gaze. The police then took statements from everyone, including Luke and his mother. ‘It’s all quite strange’ Luke thought, ‘why would Mr. Faraday have crashed? Had the blackout affected his car? Seems likely, but, why would it have made him crash?’ Luke puzzled over this for quite some time.
Soon, the police cars and ambulances were off, and in about two minutes there was no sign of them. “Well, this has certainly been quite an exciting Sunday afternoon” Valerie muttered as she turned to walk back inside the house. “Yes, indeed. It’s also been quite peculiar. Mother do you know what kind of electrical disturbance could have done this?” Luke asked as he too began to motion towards the door. “No, not really Luke. But I’m sure you’ll…” but Valerie could not finish her sentence as a large flaming helicopter fell from the sky. This time it was a real one. “WOAH!” Luke and Valerie shouted in unison as the flaming ball of twisted metal hit the ground with a crash that temporarily deafened the both of them. Bits of charred metal and debris came hurtling out of it and flew towards the house. Luckily, these pieces of debris did not reach the house or hit anyone. Valerie and Luke shielded their eyes from the warmth of the flames. “What on Earth?” Valerie exclaimed her voice suddenly drowned out by shouts. Shouts that called for help from within the helicopter. “Help! He – hel – help!” came the lonely, husky voice.
Luke could not believe it. He had seen two helicopters crash today. He really could not believe what was happening right before his eyes, and so for a few moments he just stood there, stunned. His mind was stuck, rendered blank by the overload of information.
Then suddenly life sprang back into his limbs, and he had to act. The man in those flames was going to die if he didn’t. He would not let that happen! Then Luke did something very stupid and very dangerous. He ran towards the flames. “LUKE, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” came his mother’s petrified screams. Luke had completely forgotten she was standing right next to him, he had completely forgotten about a lot of things. All that existed for him now was rescuing that man. Luke would not let him die. He could not.
Two seconds later Luke was in the wreckage. The flames were wild and were a strange tinge of red and gold Luke had never seen before, and they seemed to behave like spidery hands, they would lash out unexpectedly and grab at his clothes. The heat they generated was immense and for a moment Luke thought about just leaving, but then his conscience took hold, and stopped him. ‘Save the man!’ it screamed. Luke did as he was told.
It was difficult to see in those flames, Luke had to squint and shield his eyes and face from the eye stunning light and the heat that seemed to be generated by many thousand of suns. Also, what was more peculiar is that Luke, suddenly, did not really hear the fire roaring as much as he had heard it. Instead he heard whispering. Contrary to all the fire’s properties, the whispering was tranquil, fluid and soft. It was whispering his name. ‘Impossible’ Luke thought, ‘concentrate’.
The terrain, although there was not much of it, was not very accessible. It was twisted metal, spiked, and uneven. In short it was very difficult to walk on and touch. Luke suddenly spotted the victim. He was lying on his back across what used to be the pilot’s seat. However, there was plenty of flame between Luke and this man. Luke, however, soon noticed a semi-flame free path he could take.
Soon, Luke reached the man. His face was bloodied and his arms were bent in very, nasty, positions. His right leg seemed to be crushed. “Help” the man whimpered. “Sure, just grab hold. I’ll get ya out of here.” Luke muttered, tasting the air as he did. The air did not smell like he expected, and there was hardly any smoke. Luke would have expected huge quantities of smoke to fill up his lungs by now, but he was fine. ‘This was obviously no normal fire’ he thought to himself, as he continued to hear and ignore the fire’s gentle, placid whispering. Luke picked up the man as best he could. Luke was not a large boy, though he was tall for his age, he was not particularly strong. However, he had a hidden strength in that wiry body of his. He helped the man up and dragged him out. The flames grew more and more menacing. They seemed to change color, turn redder. And the flame-like hands doubled their efforts to stop Luke from succeeding. ‘It’s as if the flames know’ Luke thought as the flames began to close up around him, and continue to burn him. Soon Luke and the victim were clear from the wreckage. The air around them was refreshingly cool and pleasant. It was only now that fear, panic and all the emotions he should have felt during the rescue caught up with him. They hit him like a wave, and he fell to his burnt knees. He shook with emotion for a few moments, stunned. ‘What the hell did I just do?’ he thought to himself, his hands trembling. Suddenly he turned his attention to the victim. The man stirred and then without warning his eyes widened with horror, he grabbed Luke and pulled him close and shouted “It was in the sky! It was… it was big… crashed… shot me… I lost power first…. but power returned…. then black thing…. shot….crash… it shot me!” Luke could hardly make any sense of what the man was saying. “Something crashed? In the forest?” Luke asked, puzzled. He looked the man straight in the eyes, and later wished he had not, for in the man’s eyes there was terror, utter, pure, terror. “Yes! It… shot… blue light… shot me!”
Suddenly, Luke snapped back to reality and his awareness came back to him fully. He looked around to see members of the fire brigade, paramedics and police all around him. Then a paramedic came from nowhere and bent over the man. Valerie was suddenly upon Luke, shock and awe beaming from her eyes. “Oh, you stupid stupid boy! Why did you…?” Valerie began. “I had to mom he would have died” Luke retorted, looking down at his mother. They both stared at each other for a moment ad then gave each other a really tight hug. “Oh, I’m just glad you’re all right” she said her voice no longer steady. She was definitely shocked by all this. Luke was as well. Well, who wouldn’t be?
Suddenly a wave of guilt passed over him. ‘What if I had died? What would have happened to mom? To dad? To Kelly?’ Indeed, Luke had not thought about what the ramifications would have been for his family if he had not been successful. Thank God he was.
A paramedic soon arrived at Luke’s side and carried him away. He was given oxygen to breathe, but did not take it. He didn’t need it, as there had been no smoke. He then noticed that his hands were trembling and they were bloody, and black. His clothes were mostly burnt and he was sweating profusely. “I’d better take a look at you” said a paramedic who was nearest to Luke. “No, I’ll be fine. Go look after that guy, he’s the one that needs help” Luke retorted.
It was all in vain, the paramedic ignored him and proceeded to check on all the cuts, and burns Luke had sustained. For a moment there was silence, then Luke said, “Do you have any idea what could have happened to that helicopter?”. Luke looked up at the paramedic, and for a moment the paramedic stopped his checking, and looked Luke straight in the face, “Accidents happen all the time, it’s sometimes best not to dwell on it.” The paramedic then continued with his fiddling, leaving Luke quite stunned. Suddenly the paramedic added, “You were quite brave doing what you did kid. It was stupid as hell. But Brave, and I’m glad you did it.” Well, Luke did not really know how to reply to this so he thought it would be best not to say anything. Luke had not done this for fame, recognition or anything he had done it because he could have done nothing else.
Soon, the guilt that he felt faded as he comforted himself with the thought that he would have felt even more guilty had he not tried to save the man. However, after all the excitement was over, and Luke was involuntarily checked into the hospital for a night of observation, the curiosity Luke had felt returned, and in the dead of night Luke stayed up, lying in his bed, thinking and thinking about what the events that occurred today could mean. As Luke finally rolled onto his side to get some sleep he came to the conclusion that the strange pulse or electrical disturbance must be connected to the black object the unfortunate pilot had seen. But how could they be connected? Luke would not properly rest until he found the answer. He then fell into a restless sleep.
