Enigma Black (40 page)

“Come on. I’m standing up here for all of you to see. I know you don’t want to make me feel stupid up here.” One by one, they began to stand up, until close to a third of the auditorium was on its feet. “Now, I want everyone still seated to take a look around at all of those who are now standing. Take a good look because these are the real heroes in the room. Collectively, these individuals have saved hundreds, if not thousands, of lives through their careers. Yet, they aren’t the ones being honored tonight. What I did was nothing more admirable than what these individuals before you do on a daily basis. If I’m to be honored with a commendation tonight, then so should they. Please, everyone, give a round of applause to show them the honor they deserve.”

Those still seated clapped loudly in response; a round of applause that lasted several minutes, only dissipating when it was announced that dinner was being served in the ballroom.

****

“I’m so proud of you.” Carrie hugged Chase tightly backstage, a tear rolling down her cheek.

“If I hadn’t already known it, I would swear that we raised one heck of an amazing son,” Jim said, shaking his hand.

“Good show, Bro. Good show.” MaKayla put her arm around her brother as they walked toward the ballroom.

As they approached the entrance, Chase felt a pair of arms surround him, lifting him up in a bear hug. He whirled around once he was back on his feet again, recognizing Paul’s wide-toothed grin.

“Paul!” he exclaimed. “I hoped I would see you here.”

“Are you kidding me, Doc? How could I not show up to thank the man who saved my life?”

“Just doing my job.”

“No. What you did was special. I saw a bunch of those other doctors high-tailing it out of there once the bomb threat was announced. You are truly one of a kind. I don’t know what a pediatrician was doing up at the intensive care unit, but my guess is that God put you there for a reason.”

Chase’s face reddened with the knowledge of the real reason for him having been in the intensive care unit, knowing that it had nothing to do with divine intervention and more to do with his own selfish desires.

“I’m not a hero. I wanted to get out of that hospital the same as everyone else. Don’t forget, my life depended on it, too.”

“You are far too modest, Doc. You’ll always be a hero in my book, no matter what you say.”

Carrie tapped Chase on the shoulder to motion their entrance into the ballroom. He nodded, turning back to Paul.

“It was good seeing you again…”

“Oh…before you go, Doc. There’s somebody I’d like you to meet.” Paul turned to reveal the stunning blonde who had caught his eye in the audience. Inexplicably, he felt as though the wind had been knocked out of him at the sight of her. “This is my daughter, Paige.”

Chase looked from Paige to Paul and then back again. It was inconceivable to him that the petite vision before him had been created by such a burley, yeti-like man such as Paul. She obviously either took solely after her mother or she was biologically the product of someone else’s genes.

“I want to thank you for what you did for my father.” Her voice was melodic, complementing her appearance. She teared up, her sing-song voice cracking as she uttered, “I don’t know what I would have done had he not made it.”

And before he knew what had hit him, she flung her arms around him in an embrace that was much stronger than he ever would have anticipated from a girl of her stature. Not sure of what to do, he cautiously put his arms around her torso, reciprocating the embrace.

“I’m sorry,” she said as she let go. “I just get so emotional when it comes to the big guy here.”

“That’s understandable.”

“Can I take you out for coffee sometime? You know…as a proper ‘thank you’?”

“Uh…uh….sure. I’d like that.” He was immediately terrified at the prospect.

It’s just coffee
, he told himself.
It’s not as if it’s a date.

“Great! It’s a date,” Paul announced, causing a shade of crimson to overcome Paige’s horrified face.

“Dad…” she warned through gritted teeth.

“Oh…sorry. I’ll leave you two alone.”

“I’m sorry about him. He’s a little overbearing at times, but he means well.”

“I couldn’t tell.”

She laughed, opening her purse to take out a pen and envelope, carefully ripping a chunk off the envelope to write on.

“Here’s my number.” She handed the torn piece of envelope to him. “Please use it.”

“I will.” He tucked the number in his pocket. “It was nice meeting you, Paige.”

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Dr. Matthews.”

With that, she disappeared into the ballroom to join her father. Even though he knew it was impossible to do, he still felt as though, through this exchange, he’d somehow cheated on Celaine.
No, it’s worse than that,
he thought,
I just cheated on my heart
. He walked into the ballroom, spotting his parents at a table in the far corner of the room.

“So,” MaKayla began, “who was Ms. America?”

“Her name is Paige, and she seems like a nice girl.”

“I don’t like her.”

“MaKayla!” Carrie exclaimed.

“You don’t even know her. How can you possibly say you don’t like her?”

“Because she’s not Celaine.”

Chapter Thirty-Three

The Vendetta

It had been a close call, one that would never happen again. As he rested, recuperating from his injuries, The Man In Black couldn’t help but wonder whether that woman could actually stand a chance against him. Had she listened to her partner, had she not exhibited the foolish behavior that she had, she could have possibly outdone the others who‘d come before her. He shuddered at the thought of someone being able to stop him, someone being able to take him down before he could accomplish his ultimate goal.

He forced himself up out of the bed centered in his immaculate master bedroom in the three-bedroom apartment of which he lived alone. Pain shot up his side. He grunted in response, gripping it in a shallow attempt at comfort. The wound where the bullet had pierced his flesh remained very tender, but he still continued to refuse the pain killers being pushed on him regardless. There was something about physical pain that invigorated him, that made him feel strangely more alive. His caretakers had done such a wonderful job with ensuring his survival. Of course, they benefited immensely from it, too. It was a true symbiotic relationship. His armor would be repaired, his wound would heal, and he would return, better than ever.

She was one of the select few who’d been able to draw blood from him, and she would also be the last. Just as her predecessors, she would pay the price for having wounded him. Sooner or later, it always happened. Her partner’s death, however satisfied it had made him, wasn’t anything he could gloat over, for his fate had been handed to him on a silver platter the second he decided to save her pathetic life. The affections of men ultimately lead to their downfalls.

Now, she would get a new partner, for that was how it seemed to work with them. Recruit. Train. Fight. Die. It was a variable revolving door of would-be superheroes being thrown his way. Still, the woman was good, and she definitely had some sort of ax to grind with him, some sort of vendetta the source of which he must uncover if he was to gain the upper hand.

Pain tore through his body at levels that would bring a normal person to their knees in repentance. Limping, he walked down the hallway to his kitchen, rummaging through the cupboards until he found a coffee mug. Grabbing a pitcher from the same cabinet, he filled it with water from the sink, pouring it methodically into the coffee maker. The night before, he’d poured the remaining coffee grounds into the filter in anticipation of a new day, a day closer to the first day of the rest of his life.

As the coffee percolated, he walked over to his window, staring through the glass at the world outside in disgust. Soon, very soon, it would all change. Soon, he would enjoy the view outside his window. It would reflect a world of order in which he would rule, a world where everyone would be too afraid and too defenseless to stop him.

Hanging on the wall behind him was a lone painting, an abstract whose black and red lines curved with purposeful chaos on the canvas. The painting reminded him of himself in the way its strokes carefully manipulated their way around their fabricated world. He was the black streak on the canvas, perfectly blending in with the dance of humanity until finally overtaking it just as the black consumed the red in the portrait. Like the black, he would leave nothing more than a smattering of red in his wake

The smell of coffee wafted through the air, perking up his senses. His thirst for violence had been quenched for now, but he could already feel the urge emerging from deep within him again. Every once in a while was not going to be enough to satisfy him for too much longer. The attacks would soon have to be spaced closer together, ensuring more and more casualties each time.

He stretched his robotic arms, feeling his joints crack. There was a heavy price to pay when attacks didn’t go according to plan. Many pieces of his body had not come from their original biologic assembly line. Thankfully, the faux skin-like covering made those areas that lacked organic flesh virtually unnoticeable. He could walk amongst the crowds without drawing any attention on himself.

The coffeemaker beeped, alerting him that his caffeine fix was done brewing. He poured the first cup, returning to his spot at the window. Ah, Washington, D.C. in the early morning. Ironic that he chose to live in the very place that stood as a symbol for freedom. Freedom. The thought of it made him laugh. No one was ever truly free. Like it or not, everyone was under someone else’s thumb. Whether it be bosses, spouses, or the law, there’s always someone or something present to rob people of what they thought they still had. For that’s what society truly needed, a ruler. Without someone telling them what to do and when to do it, humanity would surely crumble. Yes, very soon they would look at Washington, D.C. in a very different light. Very soon, it would be known as a symbol of their oppression and the death of life and liberty as they knew it. When that time came, the black would overcome the red

As hard as he tried, he couldn’t get her out of his mind. The woman superhero who’d looked at him with such determination, with such fearlessness. Never before had he felt as though someone could equal him. Sure, she was just as awkward as a baby bird leaving the nest the first time, but soon, very soon, she would take flight. And he would have to clip her wings before that happened. She was a bad habit that needed to be nipped in the bud, and he knew just the way to do it.

A demonic smile spread across his face as he regaled in the carnage he would create. There would be blood spilled. He would celebrate in her exsanguination after she witnessed the torture and death of all those she cared about, for he now had his own vendetta to fulfill with her.

Chapter Thirty-Four

The Changing of the Guards

To say that Ian was excited to begin his transformation was an understatement. Even with the risk of death present, it still couldn’t happen fast enough for him. He’d acclimatised nicely to his new home, having known what to expect from my answers to the seemingly million questions he’d posed to me on the ride back to the Epicenter. I was happy to answer them, thankful that the focus of the conversation stayed away from any talk of our personal lives. The only person who didn’t seem to be instantly taken with him was Cameron, who I assumed saw him as more competition for attention than anything else. I likened it to a male dominance issue and figured that they’d either eventually duke it out or mark their territory like the grown men they were.

Any awkwardness had been successfully avoided until we were all seated at dinner the night before Ian’s procedure.

“So,” Cameron began, inciting Kara to roll her eyes. Whenever Cameron began a sentence with the phrases ‘so’ or ‘did you know‘, whatever followed could be counted on to tread the fine line between insightful and inappropriate. “So, did Celaine tell you about Blake?”

Ian looked puzzled. We’d briefly skimmed over the prospect of there having been others like me, but I hadn’t offered up any detailed information on the subject. I gave Cameron the evil eye coupled with what I hoped was an I’m-going-to-get-you-for-this look on my face.

Ian focused his gaze in my direction. “Who’s Blake?” His tone of voice seemed more concerned now than curious.

“He was my partner.”

“Oh,” he paused. “Where is he now? Did he quit or something?”

“Not exactly.” I stuck a fork full of mashed potatoes into my mouth with the hope that it would delay the conversation enough so the current subject would be dropped in favor of another topic. Desperately, I looked to Kara to intercede, but Cameron beat her to the punch.

“Blake was killed saving Celaine. It seems as though he had a little bit of a crush on her.” I looked straight ahead, continuing to eat my dinner even as I felt Ian’s eyes boring through the side of my face. “His feelings got the best of him.” I really wished Cameron would shut up.

“Well,” Ian responded, “you don’t have to worry about that with me. I’m never going to look at my partner in anything more than a professional way.”

Cameron snickered.

“Ditto,” I replied, obviously surprising Ian. Surely, no woman had ever turned him down before.

As we returned to what I hoped would be normal conversation, I glanced at our dysfunctional family dinner table, noticing an obvious absence. “Where’s Victor?” I asked.

“I’m not really sure,” Kara replied. “I think he’s out doing a couple of personal errands or whatnot. He’s not here all the time like the rest of us.”

“But he will be here tomorrow…right?” Ian was overly concerned with his operation going precisely as planned.

“He’d better,” Marcus added from the other end of the table. “He had me working all night last night on putting together a suit for you so that your training could begin as soon as possible.”