Paragon

Zeke bolted through the corridor until the lighting became an ominous shade of red.

Red? Seriously? He thought, as he scanned the hallway for any kind of directions. Unlike the previous wing, however, this section of the facility seemed to have no sense of direction. Whoever came down here definitely had to know where they were going at all times. None of the hallways were marked in any way but they seemed to stretch on endlessly.

“Not that one,” the toneless voice mocked when Zeke took half a step down the hallway to his right. He rolled his eyes and then took a step down the hallway in front of him. “Try again, little hero.”

“I’m not particularly fond of this!” Zeke yelled and then strode into the hallway to his left. He ran down the hallway; the voice didn’t bother him any further. On one hand, he was relieved that the aggravating voice was leaving him alone; on the other hand, he felt like the reason he wasn’t being bothered was because there was a trap being set for him.

And don’t I just love surprises? He thought as he raced down towards a double-set of swinging doors. Zeke dropped his shoulder and used it to shove the doors open without breaking his stride but then quickly skid to a halt at the sight before him. What had once been a cleanly manufactured, orderly wing of a research facility, gave way to bare rock. Stalagmites rose from the ground and rested near a wall of stone across from the doors Zeke came through. The floor had been smoothed out so that now it was just dirt and dust covered by strangely designed carpets sewn to look like bones interlocking. Then there were actual bones ornamenting the walls.

In the middle of the room, Zeke saw a man in a black robe with the hood pulled over his head. The shadows covered his face; his hands outstretched in front of him to either side. Suspended in the air and writhing in stiff motions to the left and right of the robed man were two figures Zeke was very familiar with; to the right was Phalanx, who seemed to be unconscious. The once glowing eyes of his helmet were now completely void of any light and instead there was simply darkness beneath the grey steel. To the left was Jon, dressed in his black combat fatigues, also entirely unconscious. Jon must have followed him to try and spy on Phalanx, or perhaps he’d come as emergency backup.

Zeke wasn’t sure of anything other than the fact that he was about to roast the man in the black robe. His body was still charged with electrical power stolen from the device; so much so, that arcs of lightning danced around his body and emanated from his eyes.

“Let them go,” Zeke said with an eerie calm. Despite how wired and angry he was he didn’t want things to become lethal. In his mind, villains killed; the bad guy, the desperate one full of loathing and self-contempt. He was supposed to stand for everything the hateful didn’t. At the same time, however, he felt deep inside him that this figure would not go down by talking to him. Sure enough, as if sensing Zeke’s internal conflict, the man in the black robe burst into a sinister, mocking laughter that forced an unusual chill through Zeke’s veins.

“Naïve little Paragon, so full of hope still. I’ll more than enjoy offering you to the Mad God.” The robed man said as he let his arms fall. Both Jon and Phalanx ceased to writhe in the air, though their bodies still levitated above the ground like ragdolls. Zeke didn’t feel right; he felt sick; nauseous. Something twisted in his stomach that sent his mind reeling. The air felt thick and heavy.

“I said let them go. I won’t kill you if you let them go.” Zeke said through gritted teeth.

“You won’t kill me either way,” said the man in the robes. He strolled towards Zeke completely unfettered by the Super in front of him, despite his appearance. “I don’t fear mortals,” he said in the same toneless, yet somehow mocking, voice. Zeke thrust his right hand forward and poured his energy into a thick thread of yellow lightning that ripped through the air towards the stranger. The man responded in kind with his own hand gesture and moved like lightning. The blast disappeared in a wisp of smoke and the robed man was unharmed and still striding towards Zeke. Zeke tried again, but once more the blast evaporated into a small wisp of grey smoke; no impact, no electrical cackle, it had just disappeared.

“I have more than lightning up my sleeve,” Zeke spat and coated his left hand in jagged rime.

“Oh I’m quite aware,” the stranger chortled, “a pity you’ll never use them against me.” The stranger raised his left hand and made a clutching motion with his fingers in Zeke’s direction. Zeke’s chest tightened and he found himself doubling over in agony; it was the worst pain he’d ever experienced in his life. It felt like someone was grabbing all his organs and his spine, squeezing and twisting them beneath his skin.

Zeke coughed and spat up blood.

He gripped his chest tightly and started cursing.

“What the fu-AAGH!” Zeke screamed in torment when his body suddenly lifted up off the ground. Flying was one thing; this felt like he was being hefted up by his spinal cord like a suitcase. His body hovered over between Jon and Phalanx and hung there like a marionette; he tried to free himself but he felt shackled to the air around him. It was most unpleasant.

“You’re quite the resilient one, aren’t you?” The stranger said as he paced about the room, moving from table to table and paying little mind to his new captive. The tables were adorned with old looking books, vials and some very melodramatic skulls with candles burning atop them.

“You look like you’ve just stepped out of a Larry Cotter novel.” Zeke said through groans of pain and then coughed up some more blood onto his chest.

“Such spirit,” the stranger cackled, “such defiance! That’s alright, you’ll be like the others soon enough.” The stranger started flipping through one of his books while humming some strange tune as if this were just another average Friday night for him. Then again, for all Zeke knew, it very well could be an average Friday.

“How did you… What others?” Zeke moaned while looking over at Jon.

“Oh, I’ve made hundreds of sacrifices down in this cave, boy. You’ll be no different. You’ll start out defiant; angry, scared and full of profanities. Soon after, you’ll try to bargain with me or, better yet, you’ll try an escape which will be as hopeless as your cursing. Then, you’ll plead and beg.” The stranger described, his tone echoed against the stone walls and he sounded like he was reading out of a manual; like this was something entirely mundane to him.

“Sacrifices? To what? What are you sacrificing me to?” Zeke’s voice was becoming strained. The more he talked, the tighter his chest got and the more he felt like he was being crushed.

“There are forces beyond your comprehension, boy, and they require appeasement. They also love the taste of Supers, and in return they give me their power.” The stranger turned towards Zeke and strolled next to him while holding a small bowl filled with red liquid; it was thick and so dark it was almost black.

“Don’t you fucking touch me with that shit,” Zeke hissed.

“Like I said; full of profanity,” the stranger chuckled and dipped his finger into the liquid. He drew his finger out and started to draw symbols on Zeke’s body with it. The liquid felt hot, red-iron hot, against his skin and Zeke had to bite his tongue to keep from screaming again. The stranger drew symbols on his abdomen until he seemed satisfied and then moved to Jon and Phalanx and repeated the symbols on them. Jon, like Zeke, was shirtless so the symbols burned into his skin while Phalanx still bore his armor. Even with the steel plating, however, the blood-like substance steamed against the metal.

“I see our guests have arrived,” another voice said from the entry way. Zeke looked up and saw the well-put-together figure of Vladimir Dracovic walking through the swinging doors wearing a dark grey suit tailored to his form with a blue tie. His stride was perfect, his suit was ironed and without a single crinkle; even his tie had been twisted into a flawless Windsor knot. His black hair was combed back behind his ears and seemed to accentuate his angular features.

“Welcome, my lord,” the robed man said once he’d finished painting runes on his victims. He placed the bowl back on the table from where he’d taken it and knelt before Vladimir. Vladimir nodded at the robed man and motioned for him to stand again. Vladimir’s eyes beamed towards Zeke with fiery hatred.

“So, you’re the one who’s been causing me so much trouble,” Vladimir mused as he stroked his chin and walked around Zeke in an effort to study him like an exhibit.

“I know… hnngg-I know what you are,” Zeke said through grunts of pain. He felt like his whole body was sore and torn; like every muscle and ligament was shredded.

“And what exactly does that get you, hero?” Vladimir mocked with an insidious grin that made Zeke’s skin crawl. Zeke could still feel energy boiling up inside of him but he was in too much pain to focus it; the amount of pain he was in forced him to twitch and writhe and thus left him unable to bring his will forward to harness the power that was simply lying dormant inside his body. It made him furious.

“Going… to… stop… Aaaaagh!” Zeke roared in pain as his body suddenly convulsed and the runes on his stomach began to glow. Where once the liquid that formed the symbols on his stomach had felt uncomfortably hot, now they burned like coals that seared and dug into his skin. Vladimir let out a raucous laugh.

“You can’t stop me anymore than you can save yourself,” Vladimir said through a laughter so amused that he even had a tear in his eye. He then tilted his head, wiping the moisture from his eye sockets, and said “or your family, for that matter.” Zeke’s eyes widened and for a moment the pain disappeared long enough for him to concentrate all his attention on Vladimir.

“You stay the fuck away from my family!” Zeke howled and struggled to free himself from the invisible bonds that kept him suspended.

“Well now, that’s going to be a problem.” Vladimir responded, casually crossing his arms and sporting a satisfied smile. “I already paid them a visit, you see. Did you know your sister was a telepath?”

Was, that word struck Zeke like a cord; the sick bastard even emphasized it. Zeke froze in the air and stared into Vladimir’s cold eyes. The excruciating pain he felt was nothing compared to the rage in his heart.

“If you hurt them I swear to God I will-“

“Do absolutely nothing? That’s right, you will.” Vladimir said and turned to the robed man, “ensure he is offered to your deity but leave Phalanx alive.”

“And the other, my lord?” The stranger inquired while bowing his head.

“Offer him too, I care not. Just make sure Phalanx lives.”

“Yes, my lord.” The stranger said and bowed once more as Vladimir started to stroll carelessly out of the room. Once at the doors Vladimir paused and turned around for a moment.

“Oh and by the way,” he said glaring at Zeke, “I was actually impressed; your sister put up quite the fight.” Vladimir grinned and then disappeared behind the doors. The room was then filled with the thunderous sound of Zeke’s fury. He roared and howled without any semblance of coherence.

“Hold still!” The stranger shouted but Zeke ignored all the pain that shot through his body. He roared and screamed and tore at the invisible shackles that held him in place. Jon shook his head and started to wake up. He shouted and tried to cover his ears; his eyes became wide when he saw his friend next to him.

A sudden and strange wind gust through the room; the doors ripped open and the stranger’s robes fluttered around him as Zeke continued to scream. Electricity raged and shot out from his body and struck random surfaces leaving massive burn marks. Each bolt of lightning that tore out from his body echoed with a deafening crash. The stranger stretched out his hands and started to chant; the hood covering his face flew off revealing a man with only half a face, the other side was made of only bone that seemed disfigured and warped. Both of his eyes were lidless, eyeless sockets of black emptiness. Zeke felt pain shoot through him as the stranger worked some spell in an attempt to control him; his body didn’t care. He felt the pain, acknowledged it and hated it but it only seemed to fan the flames of wrath that burned in his heart.

“Zeke! Whats going on?!” Jon tried to yell but found he could not even hear himself. Zeke’s body stretched out and he seemed to regain control of himself. His eyes glowed hotter and brighter than Jon had ever seen them; lightning poured out of every surface of Zeke’s body, even his open mouth.

Phalanx also seemed to come to as several of the bolts of discharged lightning had struck his suit and powered it back up. The stranger in the robes took a step back in horror and then continued to try and work his magic. He struggled and then fell to one knee after exhausting as much of his power as he was able to muster yet none of it seemed to affect the man with the blue skin any further. Jon and Phalanx both dropped to the floor now that the spell had weakened. Phalanx’s eyes burned blue as he rushed forward and gripped the stranger’s head between his fingers and crushed the skull with an audible crunch. Phalanx turned to look at Zeke and found he had to shade his eyes, despite the helmet over his head, from the amount of power that radiated from Zeke.

“Paragon...” Phalanx whispered and smiled under his helmet. Jon moved towards Zeke, shielding his face as the wind picked up and threatened to blow him off of his feet. Here it is, Phalanx thought, the Moment of Power. I wonder what triggered his…

“Zeke! ZEKE!” Jon shouted and reached to grab Zeke’s hand but before he made contact with his friend, Zeke vanished. A streak of electrical power zipped through the doors and out of the room. Jon no longer cared about the facility, or Phalanx for that matter, and instead followed the electric-trail in the hopes of catching up to his friend.

Outside of the facility Jon lost his friend, yet something told him where he should go. Jon leapt up to the tallest nearby building and bounded from rooftop to rooftop. His record length had been a hundred yards, the same length as a football field, in one leap; he was pretty sure he had just broken that record with all the adrenaline rushing through him. Jon made it to the neighborhood and rolled onto the ground after his last bound and stared in horror at Brida’s house, or rather at the spectacle above it. Sitting above Brida’s house was a set of black, swirling clouds that snapped and crackled with thunder and lightning and it was slowly lowering down to envelope the building. People were coming out of their houses and had begun to stare and point and gasp. Jon rushed forward and got into the house just as the clouds surrounded the house.

Once inside Jon noticed that it had suddenly become incredibly cold; colder than it had been outside and that was saying something. When he turned towards the living room he saw that it was also, somehow, snowing inside. Little flakes of snow billowed gently around the room creating a dense fog of white flakes. The house looked normal; nothing was turned over, nothing was broken. There were no signs of struggle.

Maybe they’re alright… Jon prayed, then why does it look like the North Pole on the inside?

In the center of it all stood Zeke with glowing yellow eyes that looks hot to the touch; his fists clenched at his side. Jon looked down to the floor and saw the focus of his friend’s attention. Arrayed in a bloody circle, of which Zeke stood in the center, were bodies. The snow that billowed inside made it hard to see their features so Jon took a step closer and squinted his eyes, trying to focus. He recognized Brida first with her dyed white and pink hair and laid flat on her back with her hands crossed over her chest; then he saw Tony and Jason with their eyes popping open from rigor mortis and in likewise positions as their mother. Finally there was Kira. Each had a large gash on their throats that had been cut deep and wide. Jon covered his mouth with his hand in an attempt to prevent himself from throwing up.

Jon looked down and saw that none of them had any other markings on their bodies save the gash in their throat. His mind raced through the details despite his sickened demeanor. The slashes on their throats were meticulous, not hasty; the skin had been sliced cleanly, delicately and with purpose. Each wound had been inflicted ceremoniously.

You never get used to seeing people you care about on their death beds. Kira’s body was the only one that showed any signs of struggle. Her face was bruised and beaten and there were burn marks on her neck. There were also slashes through her clothing coated in dried blood. Only Kira showed any signs of struggle in her death, though the end result was the same; it even seemed like the killer had taken extra time on Kira. She had suffered. Whoever the culprit had been had taken extra time on Kira to make sure that she had not died to slowly. Her entire body showed signs of torture and savagery.

Zeke was staring down at Kira, his face wet with tears yet his body did not seem to be in mourning. Normally when people are sad they became loose, Jon had noticed. They become like wet noodles and kind of flop down wherever they happen to land and weep miserably. Yet Zeke’s body was frigid with clenched fists, veins attempting to burst from his body and neck. He was a statue with a tear on his check.

Jon looked about the room, daring to examine the bodies once more. Brida, Tony, Jason and Kira all lay on their backs with their hands on their chest. But Mary was not in the circle; in fact Jon didn’t see her there at all. Maybe she had been able to hide? She was small enough that she’d be able to fit somewhere undetectable and she was a smart girl; she knew danger when she saw it. Perhaps there was hope, a silver lining.

“Zeke, I don’t see Mary… maybe she’s-“ Jon paused when Zeke raised his head and nodded towards the wall.

Then Jon looked up. Mary’s small, delicate body had been turned into a Pompeii replica that had somehow been stuck to the wall with her hands to either side of her forming a gruesome crucifix with her body. Her form still steamed slightly and, though Jon prayed it was just the snow in his ears, he could have sworn he could hear her corpse sizzling. The only part of her that had not been scorched to black was her face, which her killer had carefully left unharmed and perfect. Her eyes were closed and her skin still looked soft and gentle even with her hair matted against it. It was a display meant to show power, dominance.

“No…” Jon gulped at the sight and shook his head in horror. His friend’s entire family lay before him in a horrific display, yet his friend did not weep. Zeke neither cried nor fell to his knees helplessly. The air and ground around them shook violently and suddenly the roof over their heads tore from the rest of the building and was sucked into the sky. Jon covered his neck and then looked up to see the storm above him rage all around them. They were in the eye of the storm and yet it was still so intense.

Then came the sound; a sound Jon would never forget. A sound that would haunt him to the end of his days. If the weather could feel agonizing heartbreak, if a storm could grieve, if thunder could feel suffering, they would make this sound. It was a scream, a shout, a roar of wrath, rage, and torment. It was a soundthat came as a thick bolt of lightning cleaved the air, bursting down from the sky straight onto Zeke’s body. The bolt was continuous; it did not strike and then strike again, rather it came and stayed and sheathed Zeke in its power.

That sound, that horrible, blood-curdling sound, still echoed endlessly from Zeke’s throat as the storm around him became more aggravated. The snow and wind snarled around them and Jon had to use his arms to protect his eyes, what little good it did him. That sound, it would not end; it just kept going. Just hearing it made Jon’s ears want to fall off, it made his heart shrink and pulse with fear, terror and mourning all at once.

The walls rumbled as more of the house was ripped apart by the storm that shrouded them. The bolt of lightning continued its endless assault on Zeke’s body and the sound, that dreadfully blood-curdling sound, went on. Jon imagined it could have been heard throughout the city. He could not describe it but it would haunt him until the day he died, that much he knew immediately. Electric tendrils whipped out from Zeke’s body like they had in the facility and burned every surface around them. Jon had to take cover behind the couch and he continued to cover his head and ears.

The hair on the back of Jon’s neck stood up straight as the room filled with static energy that hissed and cackled at him. The walls and floors were struck with explosive blasts of electricity that shook the house and even seemed to split the air itself.

When it finally stopped Jon opened his eyes to see that the storm had calmed, though it still surrounded the house they were in. He stood and turned his attention back towards the center of the room.

Zeke’s body cracked and hissed with electrostatic power in a manner that amazed and stunned Jon into a fearful reticence. Zeke was looking down at his hands with a firm, determined look on his face. He watched the pale yellow lightning dance around his body and arc between his fingers.

“Zeke…” Jon breathed, “I’m so sorry…” A tear fell from Jon’s eye.

“Jon… You’re alright.” Zeke said when he looked up, though Jon could not see any emotion in his eyes since they had become a solid mass of glowing electricity. His voice rolled out like thunder and had an electric cackle to it. It wasn’t mechanic yet there was something lifeless about it. It sounded like the voice of storm if it could speak.

“I followed you back here… Did… Did Vladimir do this?” Jon whispered as he dared to look down to Zeke’s family once again. “Is that monster responsible for this?” He barked.

“Yes… He is. He struck me where he felt it would cripple me; where I would be forced to see the lengths he is willing to go to in order to win.” Zeke made fists with his hands and the lightning that sprung around him intensified. Jon looked up and saw the storm still twisted and twirled around the house.

“Zeke I’m so sorry… We need to get out of here. Nullifiers will be coming soon, we should leave town.”

“Leave town?” Zeke inquired and tilted his head at Jon. His voice still wasn’t quite normal. He could hear his friend beneath the deep, electrically thunderous tone but it wasn’t quite his friend’s voice. “No, Jon. I will not be leaving town,” he said and then looked down to Kira and knelt next to her. He cupped her lifeless cheek in his palm and looked down on her longingly. Memories raced through his mind as well as thoughts of the future they were supposed to have together: a home, children, marriage, dogs the whole American-Dream; nothing but a distant hope now. Zeke bent down and kissed her forehead and then stood and looked up to Mary’s scorched body. He gently grabbed her and pulled her from the wall and set her down in the middle of the circle of bodies with care and tenderness.

“Zeke, we shouldn’t stay. Leave it to Phalanx, this is his war not ours. We don’t stand a chance, look at what he’s done just to prove a damned point!” Jon shouted and knelt next to the circle with tears in his eyes. Though they were not his actual family; Brida had always offered him a warm meal anytime he came around with Zeke. The brothers, Tony and Jason, would always ask him for war stories or fighting lessons; besides that they were just good kids that were lucky enough to get powers they were able to hide from the eyes of the public. Mary had warned up to Jon somewhat quickly and he’d always liked her and considered her and the rest of the Blackwell family under his protection, so to speak. Kira may not have always liked Jon but regardless he’d always considered her a friend because his best friend loved her and that was all he needed. They weren’t family by blood but they were probably the closest thing Jon had to a family at this point. He could only imagine what Zeke was feeling.

“He made his point,” Zeke said, standing once again and looking down at Jon, “now it’s time for me to make mine.” Zeke’s feet left the ground and he slowly lifted up through the roofless house.

“Zeke, look at this! End this now before you lose everything!”

“That’s just it Jon,” Zeke said calmly and paused his ascent to look down at Jon. Jon looked up at his friend and saw him as a silhouette against the blinding light of the storm above him. His body appeared celestial the way he hovered there. “He’s given me nothing to lose.” In the blink of an eye Zeke and the storm disappeared and raced off into the skyline. Jon stood there with his mouth hanging open, wondering what his friend was going to do next.

Intermission

“Good evening folks I’m Diane Tremane and it has been quite the week already and now the situation with the Supers has become dire. I’m sure you all heard the sound of that storm we had this morning; we actually had some severe technical difficulties because of it.” Diane’s nerves look rattled. Even with her journalism-smile on and her veins full of caffeine she looks afraid; paranoid. “We also have, get a load of this folks, a quintuple homicide. This morning the Blackwell family was brutally murdered. Police suspect the blue-skinned Super that has been rampaging Glacier City this past week. Chief of Police Janice Slayt even commented and said they had eye witnesses claiming they saw the blue-skinned Super fleeing the scene after ripping the house apart.”