CHAPTER SIXTEEN
...three months ago...
Jack Hanover watched under the moon from the shadows of the rooftops. He had followed a trail he spotted on the road uptown. And now lay perch on this old city age-stone building. The cement curves produced a protective shell of shadow. Jack prepared his attack.
"And so you have finally chosen the path of the hero..."
A voice stood out behind him. Jack snapped around and there was his Sensei. He turned his back on his mentor; and refocuses on the gang banger that shot the innocent woman he could not heal on the street. "I have yet to decide. Is my training over?"
"I have no more to teach you, Philip"
Jack looked up at the old Asian man. That word stung his ears. That name he could not bear.
"I am going to kill this man when I find him." admitted Jack.
Sensei walked to the back edge and pulled something from the shadows. "Before you go...take this..."
He brought a cloak over to Jack. "Inside all of us there is a darkness. Most learn to keep it at bay there entire lives. This cloak brings fortune down around you, but protects you with dark camouflage." Sensei attached it to his jacket. The cloak blended into the jacket; fusing together with it, becoming one.
Jack felt a warmth over his shoulders, as the cape came over the jacket and the Kevlar vest it forged the three into an uncanny suit. The warmth became fire and bode too much to bear for Jack. The spirit of the cloak had now passed into him, finding a home deep inside Jack's heart. The spirit in itself was not bad, but in its destiny was to only attract the bad of luck and life. On one knee he fixed his suit and stood back up. Under the moonlight he was reborn. He knew one day he would have to call out the cape and use its powers of good overcome sinister fortune, defeating its own legend. But for now he utilized it for its raw powers.
Jack jumped off the rooftop. The cloak caught the air and restructured, becoming sturdy around the edges and parachuting in the middle. He landed off a five story jump with ease. The cape restructured loose.
Sensei watched from above, as Jack went for the car parked in front of the hideout; the same car that the gang-bangers used. He hid around it and jumped the driver as he rounded the car's corner. Jack grabbed his head, turning his forward momentum down, thrashing his head into the car door, and then snapping his neck. The poor dumb ass went for his gun instead of plying Jack's arms off his neck; a fatal mistake.
Jack pulled the pistol for him. It was a desert eagle .50 caliber silver finish with an ivory-white handle. Its clip was full. Jack checked the dead thug's belt. He had an ammo clip next to the holster for the gun. Probably jacked off a dead cop. Jack stole the attachments for his own utility belt. The only proof of this gun was lodged in his own back. He adjusted the holster on his hip. Ready for battle.
Jack kicked the door to the hideout in. Twenty men pulled on him from two open floors of warehouse. Jack turned in his cloak and vanished, teleporting into action. He appeared behind a guard in the corner of the second floor. Shooting him where the spine comes into the hips, breaking him in halves. Jack put his pistol away and grabbed the AK in the dead gangster's hands. He unloaded over the railing, a hip-firing spray that demolished half the upstairs.
Jack dove behind a column and reloaded the AK with the dead man's ammo. He slid the gun over the top of the railing and peered behind it. Through the iron sights he could not see anything without putting his head in danger of getting shot off. But when Jack closed his eyes. Using all his other senses to graph and track the remaining gangsters, Jack sprung up and drained the entire second floor of life, other than his own.
Nothing but sounds next. An AK drops on the floor. 2 Uzi's are swiped. A door opens on the first floor and the door closes on the second floor. Thunderous gunfire erupts the warehouse. Jack teleports into the center of the floor. Bouncing erratically through the air, collecting all the gunfire but none of it landing. Instead the bullets keep traveling across the warehouse into the bodies of fellow gangstas. They put themselves down like animals. Jack stands up with the silver DE in his hand. One gurgle comes from a survivor, Jack pauses. He looks back and disappears. Reappearing behind the last hitman standing, and putting him down with a shot to the head.
Ridding the world of the Dec Dawgs, a gang of thieves, murderers, and drug dealers, Jack gathered what ammo he could, leaving the weapons that were already used, except for the Desert Eagle. He drags a gallon of gasoline empty across the entire warehouse floor. Before he leaves he lights the gas with his Zippo and burns the hideout down. He walks out of the fiery wreckage unseen by any camera or witness. He leaves no trace behind.
Saturday, April 23, 2011
Monday, March 28, 2011
Flood of Darkness
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
...three months ago...
Jack opened his eyes. He had been sleeping for some time. Sensei's training was dwindling out. Ever since their confrontation at the dojo he has been pulling away from Jack. Jack did not know whether this was how Flood training ended or if his master still held a grudge over these past few weeks. It was almost 4 in the afternoon. Dr. Randolph was not in. Jack got his coat on and went for a walk. The street was congested with people. The alleyway was clear. A bright sun lit the hidden urban corridor. But it was still cold out. Jack put his sunglasses on and walked up the block away from the dojo.
He had distracted himself with delusional jujitsu training for long enough. It was time to figure out what he was going to do about Fitzsimons and getting his life back. The Doc said his family was okay. That means Fitzsimons has not gone crazy yet. Either that or he's gone altogether. Jack had to consider all the reasonable explanations. Most of them included the fact that the Storm Harvester still possesses Fitzsimons. Jack knew he was not dead. He knew the Storm Harvester would never quit its search for the Divine Catalyst. And just like it used him to get to it, the unstoppable force would now use Fitzsimons. A lethal combination of sinister intentions and resourceful hosts...the perfect storm of trouble for Jack.
If Dr. Randolph could go and come back without being seen, a trained soldier mastering teleportation should be able to do it with ease. Jack walked down the street. A jeep swerved across the lanes. Three hands with guns came out of the window. Their target was a black man walking down the sidewalk in a long leather jacket and giant golden chain around his neck. He pulled out two guns from his jacket but it was too late. The firing squad gunned him down. All before Jack and other innocent bystanders. One of which was a woman frightened beyond the capacity to move out of the way. Jack jumped for her, shielding her with his back. He screamed in agony as bullets that missed the big leather jacket thug were collected by his back. Jack kept himself from freezing up in pain. He rolled her safely out of the way and the hitmen in the jeep sped off after their target fell.
Jack let her go and checked his own wounds. The bullets were gone and the remaining lacerations were disappearing. He was okay. When he turned back for the woman he found her on the floor. She had been caught by one of the stray bullets. It pierced her abdomen and she was bleeding out on the floor. Jack got down next to her and tried to save her. He pressed his hand on the wound but nothing happened. He tried again, closing his eyes, relaxing his thoughts, and....nothing.
The woman was dead. Jack kept trying to save her. People came out after all the commotion to have a look for themselves. They surrounded Jack who was now trying CPR to get her back. Soon ambulance sirens sounded off. Jack left before they arrived. It was getting dark out. Jack was pissed off. He could not save that woman. She did not have to die. These gangs were out of control. In a dark alleyway, Jack checked his healed wounds. The scar tissue was tightening and expanding. His muscles hurt every day, especially after they were over-exerted. He was finally feeling the effects of Dr. Randolph's diagnoses. Could it be...was he actually going to die? A thought which never crossed his mind while fighting. He assumed it was because of the rush of endorphins in a hectic situation. He always felt better directly after a fight.
Jack got back to his apartment. The whole time repeating over and over again the license plate number of the getaway car. Once inside, he reached under his bed and pulled out a trunk. He opened the giant chest and took out his old army equipment. He strapped the utility belt around his jeans and holstered it onto his belt. He took his Kevlar vest out of his flack jacket and strapped it on over his t-shirt. Jack then took out some eye-black and with his sunglasses still on his face marked himself with urban camouflage. Thick, waving black stripes, only interrupted by the dark glasses. Jack looked at himself in the mirror.
It felt good. Being back in his gear. He even put his boots back on. Jack looked back at his apartment as he stood by the front door. He picked his jacket off the hook and flailed it around as he put it on. The dark coattail made him feel like he was putting on a cape. Jack took his gloves out from the satchel on his utility belt and slowly opened the door. When the coast was clear he crossed the empty street over to the alleyway. Jack climbed the city wall and jumped across the rooftops of the night skyline with disregarded ease.
So started the first night of Jack's new life.
A night that would soon become infamous.
The origin crusade of DarkFlood.
...three months ago...
Jack opened his eyes. He had been sleeping for some time. Sensei's training was dwindling out. Ever since their confrontation at the dojo he has been pulling away from Jack. Jack did not know whether this was how Flood training ended or if his master still held a grudge over these past few weeks. It was almost 4 in the afternoon. Dr. Randolph was not in. Jack got his coat on and went for a walk. The street was congested with people. The alleyway was clear. A bright sun lit the hidden urban corridor. But it was still cold out. Jack put his sunglasses on and walked up the block away from the dojo.
He had distracted himself with delusional jujitsu training for long enough. It was time to figure out what he was going to do about Fitzsimons and getting his life back. The Doc said his family was okay. That means Fitzsimons has not gone crazy yet. Either that or he's gone altogether. Jack had to consider all the reasonable explanations. Most of them included the fact that the Storm Harvester still possesses Fitzsimons. Jack knew he was not dead. He knew the Storm Harvester would never quit its search for the Divine Catalyst. And just like it used him to get to it, the unstoppable force would now use Fitzsimons. A lethal combination of sinister intentions and resourceful hosts...the perfect storm of trouble for Jack.
If Dr. Randolph could go and come back without being seen, a trained soldier mastering teleportation should be able to do it with ease. Jack walked down the street. A jeep swerved across the lanes. Three hands with guns came out of the window. Their target was a black man walking down the sidewalk in a long leather jacket and giant golden chain around his neck. He pulled out two guns from his jacket but it was too late. The firing squad gunned him down. All before Jack and other innocent bystanders. One of which was a woman frightened beyond the capacity to move out of the way. Jack jumped for her, shielding her with his back. He screamed in agony as bullets that missed the big leather jacket thug were collected by his back. Jack kept himself from freezing up in pain. He rolled her safely out of the way and the hitmen in the jeep sped off after their target fell.
Jack let her go and checked his own wounds. The bullets were gone and the remaining lacerations were disappearing. He was okay. When he turned back for the woman he found her on the floor. She had been caught by one of the stray bullets. It pierced her abdomen and she was bleeding out on the floor. Jack got down next to her and tried to save her. He pressed his hand on the wound but nothing happened. He tried again, closing his eyes, relaxing his thoughts, and....nothing.
The woman was dead. Jack kept trying to save her. People came out after all the commotion to have a look for themselves. They surrounded Jack who was now trying CPR to get her back. Soon ambulance sirens sounded off. Jack left before they arrived. It was getting dark out. Jack was pissed off. He could not save that woman. She did not have to die. These gangs were out of control. In a dark alleyway, Jack checked his healed wounds. The scar tissue was tightening and expanding. His muscles hurt every day, especially after they were over-exerted. He was finally feeling the effects of Dr. Randolph's diagnoses. Could it be...was he actually going to die? A thought which never crossed his mind while fighting. He assumed it was because of the rush of endorphins in a hectic situation. He always felt better directly after a fight.
Jack got back to his apartment. The whole time repeating over and over again the license plate number of the getaway car. Once inside, he reached under his bed and pulled out a trunk. He opened the giant chest and took out his old army equipment. He strapped the utility belt around his jeans and holstered it onto his belt. He took his Kevlar vest out of his flack jacket and strapped it on over his t-shirt. Jack then took out some eye-black and with his sunglasses still on his face marked himself with urban camouflage. Thick, waving black stripes, only interrupted by the dark glasses. Jack looked at himself in the mirror.
It felt good. Being back in his gear. He even put his boots back on. Jack looked back at his apartment as he stood by the front door. He picked his jacket off the hook and flailed it around as he put it on. The dark coattail made him feel like he was putting on a cape. Jack took his gloves out from the satchel on his utility belt and slowly opened the door. When the coast was clear he crossed the empty street over to the alleyway. Jack climbed the city wall and jumped across the rooftops of the night skyline with disregarded ease.
So started the first night of Jack's new life.
A night that would soon become infamous.
The origin crusade of DarkFlood.
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