Enigma Black (22 page)

Even without being zipped, the suit secured itself to my body, gripping it in a chokehold. I wondered if it was supposed to be like this or if the measurements taken had been just incredibly poor guesstimates instead. Straining against the material of the suit, I struggled to get the zipper zipped in the back all while thinking to myself that whoever made the suit must either be a sadist or that this was some twisted, sick joke. Inch by inch—although it felt more like millimeter by millimeter—I managed to zip up the back.

“Well, the hard part is done,” I said to myself.

Thankfully, the boots slid on easily since the material didn’t seem to be quite the same as the rest of the getup. Perhaps, they figured the boots didn’t need to be quite as secure as the rest of the suit as, aside from Achilles, no one ever died from a wound to the foot. And since I was no Greek warrior, I figured I’d be safe.

To top off my new look, I snapped the utility belt around my waist. I had to admit that even though the whole getup wasn’t exactly my style, I still felt pretty bad ass. The suit was entirely black in color. Coupled with the utility belt, it resembled an outfit a person would wear to a rock ‘n’ roll funeral. Still, despite the thin material, I did somehow feel as though I was encased in steel. The adherence to my skin gave me a sense of security. I was now both sleek and unstoppable. In slow, awkward movements, I took my first steps in the suit and, although stiff at first, my body unexpectedly became accustomed to it.

I walked down the hallway to what was referred to as the training room. Once outside, I heard Blake’s guttural gasps resounding through the steel doors as though he were being tortured. Perhaps, going in there wouldn’t be such a good idea after all. Taking a deep breath, I opened the door to find out what horrors awaited me on the other side. Oddly enough, when I opened the door, all that was there to greet me was a darkened viewing room containing a console filled with gauges, buttons, levers, and monitors illuminated with a virtual rainbow of lights. Sitting at the console were Cameron and Drew. Marcus and Victor were standing off to the side watching what I suspected to be Blake and the source of his discomfort through the viewing window. I walked in Victor’s direction, joining him in watching Blake.

Blake was running, jumping, dodging and punching at invisible objects around the entire perimeter of a padded room that I estimated to be nearly the size of a small stadium. I marveled at the speed at which he was executing his movements. They were absolutely remarkable and, until this morning, were speeds which I would have thought impossible. His jumps appeared as though he were taking flight. When he landed, he did so with such coordination and grace he appeared almost poetic. There was some unseen force in that room that was provoking him. Whatever or whoever he was fighting was giving him quite a workout, so much so that I couldn’t tell if he was winning or royally getting his butt kicked. My eyes traveled from the viewing window up to Victor, who was watching Blake as intently as a proud parent whose son was on the verge of scoring the game-winning touchdown.

“I take it he’s doing well?” I broke the silence, studying Victor’s unflinching expression.

“Quite. He’s working through a new simulation with a few added twists that Cameron threw in. He seems to be one step ahead of them.”

“Simulation?”

“In that room, a series of events is being played out that are invisible to us in this room, but are as real as you and I to whoever is in there. It’s an optical illusion. He’s wearing special glasses attuned to Cameron’s computer and is reacting to each scenario being displayed before him. If he were losing this particular one, the scenario would be shut off and he would immediately be asked to repeat it again.” He turned to me and smiled. “At the risk of sounding redundant, that suit really does suit you well.”

I felt so uncomfortable with the way his eyes were piercing through me that I decided to divert the course our conversation was heading in. Gesturing towards Blake, I asked, “Is the helmet a part of the whole simulation thing?”

“No, you will be fitted with a helmet as well. You will need to wear one at all times while you’re out. Of course, the obvious reasons for this are to protect your head from injury, but, when you go out in public, you will need to have your face hidden to prevent your recognition not only for your safety but for the safety of those you left behind.”

I was taken aback by that last statement. I hadn’t considered the thought that Chase would actually figure out who the new “superhero” in town was, and I most certainly didn’t see his life as being in jeopardy because of any decision I had made. As if sensing my sudden apprehension, Victor reassured me, “Don’t worry, The Man in Black would actually have to recognize you or know you first to have any way to use them against you. The odds of that happening are slim.”

Victor was right, but his statement did little to quell the concern creeping into my mind. If anything happened to Chase or his family because of me, I would never be able to live with myself. It would never happen. I would fight to the death to prevent it from ever happening. From out of the corner of my eye, I saw Victor’s body stiffen, possibly indicating that the simulation had reached a pivotal point.

“It’s the true test now. We’ll see how good he actually is,” Cameron muttered.

“Right, it’s now or never,” Drew concurred.

I walked over to check out what was being displayed in the monitors Drew and Cameron were staring at so intently. The picture painted in the monitor told a whole different story than the one taking place in the padded room. In the middle of a simulated scene, depicting a city in chaos, stood Blake, muscles rigid, glare visible through the mask he wore. He was the definition of every warrior I’d ever seen in the movies before they prepared for their final battle charge. I couldn’t tell what was getting him so riled up, but I knew it must be something big. Effortlessly, he leapt onto an overturned car in the middle of the crumbled remnants of a city street surrounded by hallowed out buildings and a bright orange sky as a backdrop.

“A little melodramatic, don’t you think?” I turned to Cameron.

“Hey, this is the only entertainment I have so….” He’d turned his chair around to look at me, finding himself speechless. “On second thought…”

“Wow,” Drew added, turning around. “Remind me to send a nice “thank you” note or fruit basket or something to Marcus.”

“Okay, boys. How about we keep our eyes on the monitor?” Annoyed, I gestured back to the monitor.

“Smoking hot
and
bossy, just the way I like my women.” Cameron didn’t know when to quit.

“I hear Blake is making a mockery out of your new simulation.” I smirked.

“The beginning of my program was all just child’s play. The true test of his abilities are yet to come.”

I didn’t have a chance to ask Cameron what he meant by that as, at that moment, a sickening thud rang out from the simulator, followed by a deafening scream of agony from Blake. I diverted my attention back to the monitor to see the image of the figure that had burned itself into my subconscious over the last ten years. The Man in Black was here.

Chapter Eighteen

The Ropes

Blake barged out of the simulator looking ragged and worse for wear. In frustration, he ripped off his helmet, wiping away the sweat that had accumulated on his brow. “Damn it,” he grumbled.

“You came close until the end there.” Cameron inadvertently poured salt into Blake’s wounds. “Don’t worry. You’ll get another crack at it tomorrow.” Blake muttered something that sounded like another expletive under his breath. He glanced briefly at me, doing an instant double take which only supplemented Cameron’s amusement. “It fits her well, eh?” He smirked. “Maybe she doesn’t even have to learn to fight. We can just use her as a distraction. I mean The Man in Black is still a
man
, right?”

My face burned. Catching Cameron’s eye, I mouthed “shut-up” in his direction.

“Blake, you did very well.” Victor walked toward our little group. “You almost had him. It’s too bad that almost will get you killed here in the real world.”

“Understood, Sir,” Blake replied.

Victor smiled as though he took an acknowledgement from Blake as being a sort of twisted victory. “Well, what do you say to testing out Celaine’s new wardrobe?”

 “What does he mean by that?” I muttered to Blake.

“I hope you enjoy getting smacked around,” he answered.

“Sounds like one swell afternoon. Although, I have my concerns as to how this thing is supposed to protect me. It feels like steel, but it’s almost as thin as a sheet of paper.”

Victor laughed. “This is certainly a clear case of looks being deceiving.” He turned to Blake, gesturing towards me. “Blake, would you oblige?”

“Here? Right now?”

“Why not?”

Blake sighed, facing me. “You heard the boss,” he shrugged. “Stand still, don’t move. This may hurt you more than it hurts me.” 

Before I had a chance to protest, he had his hand balled into a fist that was heading with a vengeance directly toward my stomach. I shut my eyes, bracing myself for its impact and certain bodily harm. A loud grunt, followed immediately by several sharp cries of agony, erupted a second later. Strangely though, they hadn’t come from me. Opening my eyes, I saw Blake on the floor. He was writhing in pain, alternating between holding onto his hand in pain and shaking it profusely. His fingers were noticeably misshapen. Marcus, Cameron, and Drew stood behind him with their jaws nearly touching the floor.

“Did he miss or something?” I was standing close to a wall and assumed that Blake’s fist must have run off course.

“No, he was dead on,” Cameron pronounced.

“Unbelievable. He didn’t even budge her,” Drew said. “Either the transmitters are working more efficiently or Marcus here has finally perfected the fusion for the suits.”

“Both,” Victor declared, clearly happy with himself. “It appears as though Celaine is the strongest one yet.”

In shock, I looked back down at Blake, who was still cradling his deformed hand. Grasping at his bent fingers, he snapped each bone back into place with one stomach-churning crack after another. He looked up at me in amazement, managing to stand back up. His hand was bright red and clearly swollen.

“That’s impossible,” I stated in utter awe. “He hit me with enough force to almost break his hand and I felt nothing…I didn’t even move.”

“Exactly what we were aiming for,” Victor inspected Blake’s hand. “It appears as though Marcus’ research and refinement has paid off. You and your suit are even more indestructible than Blake here is. Don’t worry, Blake. I’ll have Marcus commence work on a new suit for you immediately.” Marcus nodded. Victor patted Blake on the back. It was a gesture which I could tell was more irritating than reassuring to him.

“So, is it me or the suit?”

A grin crept over Victor’s face. “A little bit of both. I’m sure you remember what I told you about the effects the implantation of the transmitter would have on your body. You’ve already witnessed the various possible feats of wonder for yourself in both Blake and your little science experiment in the hallway this morning. The physical integrity of the suit coupled with your enhanced physique have combined to create quite the force to be reckoned with. With a little training, you may well be one of the most powerful fighters we’ve ever had.”

“I’ll say. I’ve never seen anything or anyone take a punch from Blake and still remain standing…or breathing for that matter,” Cameron said, still in a state of shock.

“Blake, why don’t you take Celaine to the gymnasium and start showing her everything you know? Tomorrow, we’ll test her out in the simulator. Marcus, Cameron, Drew, accompany me; I have a little project for you.” They obediently followed Victor out of the training room, leaving Blake and I alone.

“This place has a gym, too?” I asked.

“Does that really surprise you?” Blake rubbed his injured hand again.

“No, I can’t say that it does. Look, I’m sorry about your hand. I guess I don’t know my own strength.” I stuck my arm out and flexed my muscles, but my lighthearted attempt at lightening the mood fell on deaf ears as Blake shook his head and walked away.

With me following closely behind him, Blake led me to a set of double doors at the opposite end of the training room. He pushed the doors open, revealing an elaborate display of weights and equipment. Off to the side of the room sat a large, padded wrestling mat which took up nearly half of the space available in the gym. In the middle of the room, anchored to the ceiling, was a large television tuned into a cable news station featuring President Brooks’ recent trip to Japan. Blake led me to the mat, bypassing the equipment.

“Do they expect you to show me how to exercise or something? It’s kind of insulting if they think I don’t know how to use a treadmill.”

“That equipment isn’t for us. Trust me, you’re physically well beyond what that equipment could help you with. Your muscles are constantly working out, so to speak. The effects of the adrenaline are far more profound than what any machine could do. My job is to teach you how to fight.”

“Excuse me? I can fight.”

“I’m not talking about slap boxing.”

“Very funny for a guy who just got his butt kicked by a girl.” Blake winced as though my remark had wounded his hand all over again. He rubbed it, flexing his fingers. “Well, sensei, show me what you got.”

He shook his head. “Okay, grasshopper,” he chuckled.

“Hey, at least I got a laugh out of you.”

“Okay.” Blake began, looking serious again. “You have the body, you have the armor, but you don’t yet have the skills. You’re running into walls, for Christ’s sake.”

“That was
one
time.”

This is serious, Celaine,” Blake sighed. “I don’t think I have to tell you that the life you’ve chosen requires more dedication than you could ever have imagined. We have to be on top of our game physically and mentally at all times because those who oppose us will most certainly be on theirs.” I must have had a confused expression on my face as Blake continued. “Although, the vast majority of the population is grateful for our existence, there are still those who loathe us. They view our existence as some sort of conspiracy. To them, we are the catalysts behind the new order instituted by President Brooks. We’re more symbols of oppression than peace.”