Caped (Book 1): The Burdens of Fate (10 page)

I hope she understands. I'm sure she will.

I feel disrespected, used, violated, dirty, and
unclean. And I know everyone else does too because this didn't just happen to
me, but it feels like it. Because they didn't end anyone's life, and even if
they did they definitely didn't reshape a fucking mile of beach front property
doing it.

Just what the hell am I, how do I begin to
explain this?

Okay, I can move rocks and pebbles. Cool. And
maybe something a little bigger. Fine. But what I did was far beyond anything
I'd imagined, and it genuinely scares me. There's a demon in me, a monster. A
killer. No matter what I do with my life I'll never forget that.

Tragic right? Don't worry about me girl, and
I'm sorry about the tear drops, but I can handle this. Just give me a few more
days and a few more showers and... I'll handle this.
Michael
Serna (Cont.)
-

...dried sweat, sand in places I truly hope to
never have sand in again, and wearing clothes that made me look as if I'd just
been body surfing over a mile of coarse concrete. It was by far the most amazing
experience of my entire life, and I was sure Iris was going to slaughter me for
it!

Oh boy did she chew me out when I got back,
yelling about the "labors of marriage" and where she'll fit into my
lone-wolf superhero adventures. Oh yeah, and she wasn't too happy that this
Edward fella wanted to meet again in frickin' Seattle of all places, at least not at first.

But she's my lady, love of my life, the reason
the world is worth fighting for, yadda yadda, etc., etc., baaarrrffff.

But I mean it. Honestly.

So let's keep count, shall we: Pearl Harbor,
9-11, and now L.A.
3-18, or whatever catchy phrase it'll end up being called. These were the
darkest tragedies on American soil, carved into our history so deep that the emotional
scars will take generations to heal.

Over seventeen thousand innocent people dead,
close to one hundred thousand injured, and for the first time in our nation’s
history we have no face to place upon this evil. No person, nation, terrorist
organization, or political group has come forward to claim ownership of this
attack, if we're even considering it that. Some are theorizing it could simply
be an accident, and if that's the case how many more "accidents" can
we expect?

One eerie possibility I've heard the media
float around way too many times to be comfortable with is that we may never
know who is responsible. All while the public grows increasingly frustrated
that a latent portion of the population is developing increasingly dangerous
abilities. This whole phenomenon is only a few days old, there's no telling
what percentage of people are effected. Maybe everyone's going to develop some
sort of ability, will we feel safe then? Doubt it.

But hey, we're not all whiny little turds who
can't get over diversity. There is a silver lining to be found, even if you do
have to squint to see it. Normal people are out there alongside the I.C.'s or
E.C.'s or whatever you want to call us, cleaning-up and rebuilding their broken
neighborhoods. Slow clap.

Shortly after the attack our valiant President
addressed the nation while safely aboard Air Force One, condemning the attack
as "Godless," and pledging as much military support as necessary to
help secure and rebuild the area. Preaching the importance of keeping a strong
resolve in such trying times, and ending by grieving for those lost as he lead
the nation in a moment of silence.

All the things a good little president would
do, not that I see anything wrong with it, I just that I have a hard time not
being cynical.

Unsurprisingly, the Los Angeles area has been ushered into a
state of Martial Law, something I completely agree with; and there's been a
steady stream of information from the White House to update us on the
military's response and to clarify the nation on their position moving forward.
Good job, Mr. President. Good job.

Noveen Walsh (3/18) -

I'm not an idiot, okay? I get it, not every
I.C. is a serial murderer, I honestly get it. But fear is both necessary and
healthy because it keeps us alert and keeps us alive, so excuse me if I pull
out my knife when I a stranger walks behind me, and I don't care if I offend
you because I'd rather wait for the next train; it's things like that that'll
keep me alive.

Let's be honest with ourselves here, gang- bangers
are now weapons of mass destruction, the death penalty should be used on every
single one of'em that abuses their powers, agree? Maybe that fear will keep a
couple of us alive a bit longer... Maybe.
Berta Lautenshlager (3/18) -

Such a divisive subject, you guys! On the one
hand I know first-hand where all this fear and outrage is coming from, I'm
right there with you. But on the other, my brother is one of them and he's no
frickin' serial killer or thug. In fact the only thing he's interested in doing
is making ice cubes and keeping his room cool, and that can hardly be
considered a threat to anyone unless you're the electric company, in which case
you're getting a bit less money from us each month.

Deadly? No. Violent? Never. A Threat? Negative.
So how about we focus on the individuals that hurt people every day, the people
we used to worry about before this whole mess happened, and get back to a
degree of normalcy?

Sound like a plan?

No? …Didn't think so.
Einstein Sheldon -

I say we send them all to Africa,
cut all ties and let them kill each other off! We were perfectly fine before
this bullshit happened and now we're dealing with shit far worse than 9-11, or
a war in some damn foreign country. And we don't even know who to blame.

I know they're human but I don't want them
anywhere near me, nothing but bad luck. God don't like things that go against
his natural law and these freaks are nothin' but walking abominations.

Juan Lucas -

Hello rational world, or at least the few of you
left out there. The war for our freedom has no doubt begun. Los Angeles was/is a tragedy, there's no
denying that, but if I may, let's look back to the "solar event" that
seems to have started this whole debacle.

To call the anomaly a solar event in the first
place is bit of a stretch if for no other fact than the only thing that
coincides with what took place was a minor solar flare NOT pointed in our
direction. Aside from that, the old gal kept chugging along with business as
usual.

In addition, the fact that there was a pattern
in which it spread would indicate it originated on Terra Firma. Starting with
the northern hemisphere, mainly the U.S. of A, at 7:15pm and expanding evenly
from there. So, if America
wasn't the foremost part of the planet facing the sun, why was it that it
reported incidents first? Think people!

Remember: When there is blood in the streets...
watch your politicians.

This was a manufactured event! And I'm guessing
everything that has happened since has all been as well, including L.A.! Now comes more
restrictions on the general populace for the sake of "safety."

Bullshit!

Fight back America, we've already taken to the
streets for fear of our fellow man, let us turn that fear towards those that
seek to oppress us! Don't blindly shed the blood of your brothers, turn not
against those we once held no animosity! We are all human, we are all in this
together, and we are not going to let them win!

Edward
Otep
(Cont.)
-

March 18th tried its damnedest to be as normal
as possible and, sans L.A; if seen from above, space perhaps; that day might
have appeared as any other. It was overcast with a cold brisk wind in New York City and sunny in most of Florida
except for some afternoon showers for Miami.
The markets may have shut down early but blue collar workers still clocked in
and out of work as scheduled. Some people woke up late, and some never woke up
at all.

The hours crept by at a glacial pace, perhaps
due to the collective tension in the air. Sleep evaded me while my failures
haunted me, and over-thinking past decisions made looking to the future a
strenuous endeavor I eventually concluded wasn't worth the effort.

By eight I'd finished talking to everyone and
settling their travel arrangements and by ten-thirty we'd all arrived in Seattle.

Alvin
, as expected, left most the work to Michael,
who took on the task with a lighthearted attitude. However, Alvin did manage to drop off Prisca; the
details of which I'm still in the dark about.

There was Michael Serna, Kaylie Horn and her mother,
Laurie Stahl, Prisca Amin and myself who'd met each other earlier in L.A, and
Michael's fiancé who he'd brought along; as well as some new faces: Carter
McLennon, Thomas DeMille, and Ivan Young. Three men who were so highly
skeptical of me from the start I had to arrange for them to be flown in from
their respective locations the old fashioned way earlier that morning, before
the TSA decided to ground all air traffic.

Carter, Thomas, and Ivan had already acquired a
large enough table and had been waiting patiently for about an hour. They'd
been in Seattle all day, mainly following the
news from their hotel rooms and doing whatever it is tourists normally decide
to do in downtown Seattle.

Initially skeptical of each other, they
eventually found themselves in idle chit-chat by the time we'd arrived.

The moment of full disclosure was upon me, no
longer would I have to watch my words or dance around the truth. They'd finally
get to see the groundbreaking reality of what we were dealing with. The confidence
I had from knowing the outcome of the meeting never showed through the terror
of actually living through that monumental moment.

Their introductions were short. We weren't
there to make idle chit-chat, they wanted answers and now that they were all in
one spot I could give them just that.

I convinced them to order some food, my treat
of course, partially to keep the waiter out of our hair but mainly to help them
relax a little. And with all eyes on me, and slight hesitation, I reached into my
carry case and pulled out the same broken and battered tablet that was left to
me. Taking my time to position it so that everyone could see.

It's since been cleaned it up a bit since
bloody fingerprints and smudges can be a little off putting, but I have kept
some pictures for reference.

I turned it on and let the main video file
play...

Alvin
Turner
-

Let's be honest, my day started off like shit.
I was happy to be alive, sure, but I was also pissed as hell. Someone had just
tried to end my fucking life.

My entire morning consisted of nothing but
pain; fire shot through my heart, my blood cells felt like tiny balls of nails
carving through my veins. My sweat felt like acid on my skin, and every photon
of light was like a bullet to my eyes. I was immobilized but conscious.
Listening to the desperate voices in the ambulance try to stabilize me, their
voices crashing against the drums of my ears like the violent strike of a
hammer, and my heart racing so fast it appeared as if I'd flat-lined. They hauled
me from the ambulance to the hospital and finally to the morgue, yet my
thoughts still screamed for help. Any momentary release from the pain, no
matter how brief. And for hours, excruciatingly long hours, none came. My
strength grew weak, unable to convince myself to persist. I was at my end,
fearful and crying, alone in a room of bodies that had also given up the fight
for life. Their stench filled my lungs like a thick fluid, choking me until I
could no longer hold on to consciousness.

And then my weak eyes opened, barely
functioning. The pain remained yet with every beat of my heart I could feel its
grip on me weaken. I was too afraid to think that I had won, but with every
passing second it showed to be a truth I could take comfort in. And so I did. Paranoid
and waiting for the moment my body was wholly mine again. I had survived.

Yeah, there's no way on earth someone could
just continue on with their day after something like that. Unless of course
you've got a prior commitment to save an entire goddamn city.

I'm not in a happy place today and don't know
if I will be for a while. Tried to run it off earlier, didn't work. Did a few
things I'm not too proud of, just to burn some of the anger off; but those
didn't work either. So I decide, what the hell, let me give this little
superhero pow-wow in Seattle
a shot; put my best foot forward… and what's the very first thing I hear?

"Alvin's
dead..."

Damn. Goddamn. Haven't I had it rough enough?
It was the distant sound of a young woman’s voice, one that sound oddly
familiar for reasons that were about to become obvious, but the face peering
into the screen wasn't hers, just some young guy wearing a beaten up full-body
suit. I immediately increased my perceptions, or "up-shifted" as I
like to call it, to pause the moment and examine the person talking. I also
knew I'd want my own record of this, so I quickly stepped out to get a pen and
paper; something I'm sure nobody realized. The transcript follows:

"Alvin's
dead, Michael and Laurie too, they took ---- ---- ------- first, that means
they're probably coming for me."