Regenesis (Book 1): Impact (50 page)

---*---

September
12
^th
, 2029

8:15
AM

Al-Jazirah
area, Iraq

“Are
you sure he will be here?”

“I
am quite certain, Vladimir,” Pyotr told him.

The
two young men stood in the center of a long, desolate road. There wasn’t
anything beyond sand and sparse shrubs for miles, with the exception of two
slow-moving, dull tan objects off in the distance. The pale sky above only gave
a hinted tint of blue, so faint Vladimir guessed water was a long journey away.
Vladimir wore his usual dark brown khakis and a buttoned up shirt. Pyotr on the
other hand wore a suit of armor of pure silver with gold trimming, his
gauntlets, boots, and cape all matched, and in his hands rested a blade of pure
silver.

A
small gust carried sand from the desert floor and partially obstructed their
vision. Pyotr would have asked Vladimir to assist him next, but he was already
a step ahead of him. Vladimir raised a single hand toward the heavens and
within moments tumultuous clouds overshadowed the desert and poured rain over
the area for miles.

Pyotr
thanked his friend with a smile. “Just so you are aware, those are tanks off in
the distance.”

“Why
do they have tanks?”

“Their
hope is to spark a war with Syria and blame it on the local government, simply
to add more contention to this already somewhat unstable region,” Pyotr
reported.

“Does
he realize we are going to be here?”

Pyotr
shrugged. “He may. I wouldn’t put it past him, considering the level of
knowledge he possesses about the two of us and our typical method of disrupting
any of their chaotic plans.”

“Then
he is aware,” Vladimir muttered.

“I
would say so.”

Vladimir
only smirked and shook his head, “What on earth is he planning? Cecil must
realize he has no hope of surviving this. We would never allow him to do
something so dangerous. Why would he even come if he could continue to run as
he’s done for so many years?”

Pyotr
let out a heavy breath and admitted that it wouldn’t matter if he did try to
run. “His day has come my friend, even if he tried to escape now he’d simply
meet another untimely fate.”

“Then
this is destiny?”

Pyotr
told him destiny didn’t exist. “Could I ask a question of you Vladimir?” Pyotr
didn’t wait for a reply, “What have you learned thus far?”

“In
regards to what?”

“I
mean from your time in the States, what have you learned there?” he asked
again.

“Nothing,”
Vladimir scoffed. “I still do not know why you told me to go back there.”

“You
will soon enough, my friend.”

“Will
I?” He rolled his eyes and muttered, “I have heard that promise before.”

“You
have,” Pyotr continued, “But I truly mean it. I cannot reveal everything to you
now, but in time you will come to understand everything.”

Vladimir
let out a breath and rubbed his eyes. “Still, I do not understand why I am
there, as I do not see any relevance to our overall goal.”

Pyotr
frowned. “Nothing?”

“Nothing.”

“What
about Rachel?”

“What
about her?” Vladimir spat. “I know who she is, but I do not see any reason why
she matters.”

Pyotr
looked at him and said, “I would have thought you would have known by now.”

“Known
what?”

“How
do you think Jordan Wilder survived your assault?”

Vladimir
looked away and apologized, “I am truly sorry about that. I did not realize how
out of line I had become. Although you have helped me manage most of the
unseemly effects of my condition, I do, from time to time, begin to lapse.”

“It
doesn’t matter,” Pyotr told him. “In all honesty it was a bit of an aid, seeing
how it allowed Rachel access to her power.”

Vladimir
stopped him and repeated the words, “Her power?” He looked at Pyotr, “What do you
mean by that?”

Pyotr
smiled, “You should ask her, not me.” Pyotr took a breath and turned back to
the task at hand and said, “They’re here.”

A
pair of tanks slowly crept toward them. Two desert-tan tanks, American made,
stolen, and armed with fifty-caliber rounds and one-hundred and twenty
millimeter missiles. Neither Vladimir nor Pyotr moved; they simply watched
closely as the tanks crawled forward.

Vladimir
managed to ask a few final queries before their conflict began. “Do you have
any idea where Constantine is?”

“Unfortunately
I do not.”

He
frowned and asked, “He isn’t using his old name, is he?”

“No,
and it seems as though he has managed to learn some new tactics as well.”

“What
do you mean?”

“His
usual patterns have all but vanished,” Pyotr told him. “I will often believe
I’ve picked up the trail only to be led to a dead end.”

“Then
he is still aware of our pursuit,” Vladimir murmured.

Pyotr
nodded and reminded him, “I doubt he will ever forget about us.”

“True.”

The
tanks arrived and stopped forty feet from the two of them. Vladimir asked
whether Pyotr could tell if Cecil was present, which Pyotr managed to confirm.

The
hatch of the rear tank opened and a deathly pale man emerged. His hair was
white, as was his fine skin, and his eyes were soft and kind. He laughed softly
when he saw the familiar duo, “I should have known it was you Vladimir.”

“Obviously.
Who else but Pyotr and I have hunted you and the rest of our dissenting
comrades down over the years?”

Cecil’s
leisurely gaze fell upon Pyotr. He sighed quietly and dispassionately muttered,
“And you brought the angel with you?”

“Of
course.”

Cecil
looked away from him and continued, “I’m so sorry to be the one to tell you
both this, but I have a war to start. Now, if you don’t mind standing aside, I
need to hurry this along.”

“You
know we are not going to move Cecil,” Pyotr told him.

“That
is unfortunate.” Cecil looked back at him and asked, slightly unnerved, “Is
there any way to kill an angel?” Pyotr never replied. Cecil then looked at the
silver blade in Pyotr’s hands and asked, “Would that have the power to slay
you?”

Pyotr
smirked and said it didn’t matter. “Whatever I would say to you would be
wasted, as you are inches from your demise.”

Cecil
sneered, “Then maybe it can!”

“Enough!”
Pyotr snapped. He swung his blade forward and readied himself for the conflict.
“Vladimir, it is time.”

Cecil
only rolled his eyes and mocked them, “Is there no more room for words?”

“You
have had years to reconsider your abominations you cur!”

“So
eager to spring into violence, Pyotr.” He shook his head and muttered, “You
never changed.”

Vladimir
finally intervened and told Cecil, “Pyotr is right. You have been allotted more
time than your crimes deserved. If you wish to concede now this could be much
simpler and far less painful…” Vladimir studied Cecil and realized that his
words were wasted, “But you have no intention of submitting here.”

“No
I do not.”

“Do
you earnestly believe you can overcome this?” Vladimir questioned him.

“Well,
even if I am meant to die here in this forsaken wasteland, perhaps I have the
strength and luck to drag one of you down with me.”

Cecil
made a quick motion and the front tank fired a missile where the two young men
stood, though Pyotr and Vladimir had long since evaded the attack by the time
the missile passed where they had been. Pyotr vanished into a ray of light
while Vladimir transformed into a massive colony of bats.

Pyotr
reappeared before the first tank and swiftly cut it in two with a stroke of his
divine blade. He then moved the top half of the tank aside with the back of his
hand with no effort whatsoever. The opening revealed four men in the vehicle,
which Pyotr left for Vladimir to attend to. The colony of bats dispersed and
left Vladimir among the wreckage and the four men and without hesitation
Vladimir slew each one as he tore their throats out with his hands, nails, and
teeth, one by one.

Pyotr
headed toward the second tank, which fired off a barrage of fifty-caliber
rounds directly at the armored man. Yet the bullets transfigured into dust,
smoke, or liquid before any of the rounds could harm him.

“That
is quite enough,” Pyotr sighed.

He
stretched forth a single hand toward the vehicle and it ceased to function.
Without touching the tank, Pyotr raised it twenty feet in the air. He
concentrated momentarily before the tank tore itself into little more than
scrap metal. It left four men, including Cecil, immobilized midair among the
newly created shrapnel.

Vladimir,
having finished with the first group of men, transformed back into the colony
of bats and flew to slay the rest of Cecil’s support. Pyotr on the other hand
moved from where he stood on the ground to Cecil’s side in the blink of an eye.

However,
before he executed Cecil, he pressed the tip of his blade to his old friend’s
chest and said, “Many good people have died because of your rebellion, Cecil.
You have deterred many honest and pure men and women, you have willingly sided
with our great enemy and pledged your allegiance to him, and you have
participated in the slaughter of thousands simply to appease him. You betrayed
your kin and your faith, and because of that there is no hope of salvation for
you.”

Pyotr
drove his gleaming weapon through Cecil’s chest which produced a searing light
all around the victim until it collected at the blade. Pyotr gripped the hilt
tightly and tore it out of his foe’s chest and let the empty shell of the man
fall to the earth, along with his followers and the remains of their shattered
tank.

Pyotr
slowly descended to the desert floor, touched down, and Vladimir reappeared
beside him. Vladimir did his best to remove the blood from his hands while his comrade
snapped his fingers and briefly incinerated the remains of the tanks and the
corpses they produced. After they finished tidying up after their encounter,
Pyotr returned to Vladimir’s side, removed the blood with a wave of his hand,
and thanked his friend. “All of this makes me quite weary, or should I say
disheartened; as such I thank you for your aid here.”

Vladimir
only nodded. “I am always willing to help, though you hardly needed my
additional strength here.”

Pyotr
disagreed, “These events tire me Vladimir. But so long as you assist me I can
rest easily knowing that there is still another who hasn’t fallen away as the
rest of our comrades have.”

“Considering
the fact that you alone have slain over half of our fallen friends…” he let out
a breath and apologized, “I should have at least dealt with one of them.”

Pyotr
smiled and said it didn’t matter. He stopped and said, “You do realize this
only leaves Cipriana, Raphael, Joshua, and Constantine, right?”

Vladimir
nodded. “I do, and I eagerly await the day when all of this is finally over.”

“As
do I.”

They
walked a short distance while Vladimir stopped the rain and cleared the clouds.

“Vladimir,”
Pyotr looked at him seriously, “Talk to Rachel again. She is far more valuable
than you realize.”

Vladimir
accepted his request. “I gather this is a farewell for now?”

Pyotr
nodded and said it was. “I will let you know as soon as I do of any change in
our pursuit of those four, and especially if there is anything more that I
learn of Constantine.”

“I
look forward to it.”

Vladimir
left first in a colony of bats. Pyotr lingered behind for a moment and
inspected the ashen remains of Cecil. He touched the ash and muttered, “You
should have realized a long time ago that this was the only possible outcome.”

A
thin ray of light enveloped Pyotr before he vanished.

---*---

Chapter
18

September
14
^th
, 2029

2:35
PM

London,
England

Jason
led Audrey by the hand into a wide open field of tall grass. He remembered it
was once a well-trimmed turf between two buildings at the university they
attended years earlier. There wasn’t a soul in sight and all he could hear was
her gleeful laughter. The long emerald blades swayed at their movement and the
caress of the wind, which continued to blow Audrey’s hair back into her face. She
repeatedly swept her hair from her face, with a smile all the while, and Jason
chuckled at how useless it seemed. They finally stopped at the center of the
field where Jason pointed to the sky and spoke inaudible words. He took a step
back, looked up toward the pure blue heavens, bent his knees slightly, and
rocketed into the sky.

“Jason?”

He
opened his eyes and took a quick breath.
What time is it?

“Are
you okay?”

He
looked up from his desk and saw his manager Neil.
Damn it. Of all times for
me to slack off.
Jason apologized and asked what he needed.

“I
just wanted to know if you had the expense report for the past month,” Neil
said. “There’ll be a meeting Tuesday and I should hope that you’re familiar
with the material.”

Jason
said he would be and that Neil didn’t needed to worry about it. He waited for
Neil to walk away before Jason let out a sigh and headed for their break room
for something to drink.

That’s
the third time I’ve fallen asleep at work and luckily the only time I’ve been
caught. I’m usually fortunate if I can get any sleep during the night but
falling asleep at my desk? I’ve never had that happen to me before. Maybe my
insomnia is finally getting better.

Jason
made it to the break room and breathed a sigh of relief when he found it vacant.
I’ve only been back for a short while and I just feel weighed down. It must
be the stress. It has to be. Why else would I have those dreams? It’s bound to
be related to all of the hullabaloo about these super heroes.
He stood in
the empty room and contemplated just what it could mean before someone walked
in. Jason walked over to the vending machine, purchased a soda, and walked back
to his office.

What
are the chances that it would work though? Flight? No one can fly. I asked
Abigail and there isn’t a single hero amongst their noble ranks who can fly so
why would I even think there’s a remote possibility that I can fly? Should I at
least try though? I mean, at the very least I’d look like a complete idiot for
a minute, feel like one too, and I’d return to my daily life as if none of it
ever happened.
Jason sat at his desk and tapped the side of the can of soda twice before he
left his desk and headed for the roof.
What would it hurt? I jump, nothing
happens, and I go back to work. That’s it…But if it works? Then what? Where
would I go? What would I do? Just take a quick lap around Big Ben? What
rubbish…But still, I may as well, to put this to rest.

Jason
climbed to the roof and was relieved to discover he was alone.
Good, no one
to mock me once I look like an ass.
He walked around until he made it to
the center of the roof and gazed about the city and saw how London looked from
that height. He could see the Houses of Parliament and the River Thames from
where he stood. The air was thick and moist, and gray clouds shut out the sun.

Get
on with it you idiot.
Jason took one final look around to ensure no one would notice his folly before
he crouched down and readied himself for his big jump. His muscles tightened,
he took in a deep breath, and stood up. He rubbed his eyes and shook his head.
This
is stupid. People can’t fly. If they could there would have been others or at
least one other.

“I
must be daft to believe this,” Jason muttered to himself as he crouched down
again, “Just going to land flat on my rear and feel like an ass.” He shook his
head, closed his eyes and jumped.

Nothing?
Did I even jump? What a twit, I’m making this into too big of an event.

Jason
opened his eyes and saw London far below him.
Holy hell.
He couldn’t
even discern which building was his from where he was.
What on earth? This,
this can’t be real. I must still be dreaming.
Jason looked around at the
vast open space that surrounded him and at London far below him. He could see
past the city’s end and out toward the water and outlying areas. Clouds hung
overhead just barely out of reach. Traces of sunlight pierced through the gray
wispy ocean above him as well.

But
a thought struck him while he floated among the heavens.
How am I supposed
to land? Where do I land? I can’t even tell which building I leapt from, and
won’t someone in another building see me? Can’t they see me now? This was a
mistake, what am I going to do?
It started to rain and then Jason suddenly
felt out of control and fell from the sky.

He
tried to regain control but wasn’t sure how to fly.
Now what the hell am I
supposed to do? I doubt I can just land considering the fact that I can’t even
control myself.
He tried as best he could to veer right and found he could
manage enough control to change course midair.
There, at the very least I’ve
managed to start learning the basics before I crash headfirst into the city.
But where do I go from here? I can’t try to land on top of my building, I mean,
that would kill me, or even people in the building if I somehow crashed through
the roof. Is that even possible?

He
zipped past his building and simply hoped no one noticed the man plummeting to
his death.
That makes things a bit easier, but where do I go from here?

Wait
a minute! The river! All I have to do is weave through the next few buildings
and dive right into–

Jason
didn’t take his speed into consideration and crashed into a dumpster in some
back alley a few blocks away from his building. He remained still for a moment
before he groaned slightly and crawled out of the twisted remains.

I
guess this means I’m far more durable than I realized since I’m not a puddle on
the road.

He
took a moment to collect himself before he crawled out of the mangled steel
mess he’d created.
I’m fine. I’m fine. Thank goodness for that at least. Now
what do I do? Fly out again or walk? And this smell…I’ll need to dispose of
these clothes in favor of something cleaner. Some garments that don’t reek and
aren’t drenched in whatever blackened soup collected at the base of that
receptacle.

“H-Help
me! Please!”

“Would
you shut up?”

Jason
turned and found a rather large man with a pistol in his right hand and a young
woman pinned against a brick wall with his left arm. He choked her and cussed
at her for making a sound.

What?
Really? Here and now of all places?
Jason felt a sharp pain in his head (something
he assumed he’d sustained from the impact in his landing) and he shakily asked
the man to release the young woman.

The
bloke took aim at Jason and told him to get lost. “This doesn’t concern you
mate, so just get up offa the ground and get right outta here.”

Alright,
a gun. It’s only a small scrap of metal moving past the speed of sound; nothing
to worry about, right? I mean, I did just fall out of the sky and crashed into
the side of a steel container, so a bullet shouldn’t be much of a threat…right?
Jason balled his hands
into fists and started toward the man.
What choice do I have?

The
man took a shot at Jason but the bullet only crumpled against his chest and
fell into the gap between his chest and his shirt. However everything slowed
after the first shot. Jason watched the gunman slowly pull the trigger a second
time. He saw the hammer collide with the back of the round and he watched the
bullet slowly blast out of the barrel toward him.

This
is new…
Jason
rushed past the scrap of metal, tore the man away from the young woman, and
threw him into the wall opposite of where the attacker previously held the girl
hostage. Jason seized the gun from the man, crushed the weapon into an
indistinguishable clump of steel, and took the man by his throat.

Jason
slammed him into the wall and realized he didn’t have a next step.
What do I
do with someone like this? I can’t tie him up and leave him for the authorities
to pick up. This isn’t a comic book.
Jason cleared his throat and tried to
sound convincing when he told them man to get lost. He told the man he’d crush
his hand like the firearm if he ever caught him again, but felt his threat was
empty and simply released the crook and allowed him to scurry out of the
alleyway.

That
isn’t exactly the optimal way to handle all of this, but I’m not exactly in the
mood or attire to play savior.
Jason looked at the young woman as she caught
her breath and looked at him with astonishment.

The
young lady stood nearly a head shorter than he was, had strawberry-blonde hair,
and a fine complexion. She wore navy jeans, a light gray hoodie with a black
zip-up fleece over it, and neatly tied sneakers.

“Are
you alright?”

She
only nodded and continued to stare at him. “Who are you?” she whispered.

Jason
wasn’t sure what to tell her.
I fell out of the sky and stopped a mugger?
Who the hell am I supposed to be? Should I come up with a name or tell her my
own?
He hesitantly told her his name was Ilion.

“Then…then
you’re a hero?” she asked.

He
reluctantly agreed with the term.
I guess this indoctrinates it, right? I
can’t imagine what else it would make me.
“I’m still working on the
outfit,” he admitted, “But yes, I would say that’s who I am.”

She
thanked him again. “I-I won’t breathe a word about this to anyone. I promise.”

Jason
let out a breath and thanked her.
Now what do I do? Turn around and try to
fly out of here? Should I help her get home? Or take her to the police?
He
looked at her and asked, “Do you need any help getting home?”

She
shook her head and told him she needed to go to work. “I-I’ve got a shift in a
few minutes and–”

“You
might want to consider taking the afternoon off so you can rest,” Jason told
her. “This must be rather jarring.”

The
girl wiped a few tears from her eyes and trembled as she agreed.

Jason
took a breath and told her he would help her get home. “What’s your name
anyway?”

“Emily
Miller.”

“Okay,
Emily, where do you live?”

She
kept close to him the entire walk to her apartment, they chatted quietly, and
they parted after she briefly thanked him once more and slipped into her
building. Jason started off for the hotel he and Audrey stayed at while they
finalized their move into their next home. He needed a change of clothes and an
excuse for leaving work so abruptly.
More importantly, how is Audrey going
to react when I tell her about this? How will she take it when I tell her I’ve
thought up a name too? Ilion…another name for the city of Troy. Why’d that come
to mind?
He cracked a wry smile and chuckled to himself.
She’s going to
die when she hears the whole story though. And my guess is I won’t be able to
leave once I see her and she hears about all of this. I wonder what tale I’ll
have to tell to get out of the rest of the day of work…

---*---

11:15
AM

Bothell,
Washington

“We’ve
gotta try flying,” Coop said with a grin.

“No
one can fly Coop,” Ian reminded him.

The
trio, Coop, Wally, and Ian, all sat in Coop and Wally’s apartment. They watched
a special on the known super heroes throughout the world while they waited for
their pizzas to arrive (an odd lunch routine Coop and Wally adopted since their
graduation). Coop and Wally had an old flat screen plasma television on their
wall that had a darkened bar on the right side of the screen, which was the
result of the boys neglect to shut the appliance off before they headed off to
bed on one too many occasions. The program they watched showcased most of the
heroes around the world, though the three young men seemed to agree that many
of the heroes were laughing matters and hardly anything else.

Coop
sat in an armchair while Ian and Wally occupied the couch.

“Watch,
one day there’ll be a guy who can fly and you’re gonna regret it,” Coop told
him.

“Regret
what?”

“Not
being the first hero to fly.”

“Okay
guys,” Wally stopped them. “Here’s a better topic of conversation: which of
these heroes is your favorite?”

Coop
looked at the screen and saw a towering man in skin-tight athletic garbs.
“Who’s that fruit cup again?”

“The
Human Titan,” Ian reminded him. “He’s supposed to be the strongest person
alive.”