Caped (Book 1): The Burdens of Fate (25 page)

–
5/11
–

Laurie
Stahl
-

It's war, or as close to war as I've ever seen.
In WWII when the government decided on an action their response was measured in
weeks, not months. A month ago they passed the Civilian Registration Act, and
just today starts the propaganda campaign to get us all to feel it's
okay
to tell the government our newfound most personal secret. They expect me to
register on the damn internet with my social security number, or expose myself
by showing up at one of the registration stations. It’s absurd and someone is
gonna get hurt.

Sometimes I wonder if the government lays all
the options on the table, arranges them from best to worst, and purposefully
picks the worst possible idea.

Everyone 16+ has to register. You lie on the
form and you're figured out, you risk imprisonment. You refuse to register and
it's a misdemeanor for resisting registration. And the worst part about it is
that 75% of Americans approve of this,
"Sure, Mr. Government, anything
to make me feel safe."
I get it, people are terrified. I know I am.
I've got two children and five grandchildren to worry about, and as far as I
know not one of’em are E.C.'s, or noc, or whatever the hell it is we're being
called these days. So yes, I'm scared and I worry. But at some point we've got
to tell the government to stay out of our lives.

America
is no longer free. We've sacrificed freedom for
security, which means we deserve neither.

–
5/15
–

Edward Otep
-

I've watched it happen, multiple times in fact.
I keep watching the moment over and over. The looks on their face, every single
one of them. The concern and uncertainty. Perhaps I'm giving an unwarranted
weight to the situation, but I feel as if this is the moment, more than any
other, that defines what lengths we're willing to go to. I don't blame them,
any of them. I can see it coming and I'm still a little nervous. I'm talking
about what we're about to do for the sake of progress and survival.

The lights come up, each of us sitting in those
large seats at "
King Arthur's
" round table. The voting has
just concluded and everyone is eager to see which way we've been swayed.
Luckily the decision is unanimous. Even if most of us have reservations, Los Angeles and Chicago
push at our backs, reminding us that our efforts thus far have made us no
safer.

There's slow and safe, and then there's quick
and risky; and we don't have time for the former. Change is coming, and we
aren't prepared. The enemy has shown himself, which means their plan is ready
to be executed. We're playing catch-up in a game of life and death. How do we
win? Like I've mentioned, there's slow and safe, and there's quick and risky.

Luckily the human brain is a gold-mine of
potential, shown to be capable of far greater tasks than the silly repetitive
motions we put it through daily. Hypnosis has shown us the degree to which we
can be "
programmed,
" even if its use is often reduced to
spectacle and entertainment. One could increase their tolerance for pain,
reduce cravings, alter behavior, and even the way we perceive reality.

Hypnosis. It's quick and risky.

This is what Thomas is about to propose to us. I've
already had a week to think it over. Why haven't I told anyone? Well, let's
just say I don't have the confidence in my abilities I once did.

Michael Serna
-

Sirens, helicopters, barricades, and a trail of
red spattered across the street, no need for specifics you already know what it
is. Two young men, barely into their twenties, dead. Their bodies resting in
multiple places within a two block radius. One tore off his arm and legs,
throwing them at the police officers, writhing about in pain until the loss of
blood finally did him in. The other, less dramatically, bashed his head in on
the pavement, then in blind fury, and with a hideously mangled face, bum rushed
the cops. He didn't make it far, of course. A single gun shot took him
down,
followed shortly after by the cops turning their guns
on themselves in a sick public mass suicide.

It was too much blood for even my stomach to
handle, and all because of some crazed lunatic with, what we assume was, the
power of suggestion. It was a sniper that finally took him out, a moment we all
welcomed. That was the end of the recording. It was a news feed from a couple
of day ago, in Georgia
of all places; the country, not the state.

The disturbingly graphic nature of the video
was necessary. There was a brief pause before the next one started to play.

Failure to prepare is preparing to fail, and
considering we're not sure exactly what it is we're up against, we could very
well end up in a similar situation. Prisca was disturbed, Kaylie was disturbed,
and Carter was disturbed.

This was Thomas' sole reason for showing this
to us, to remind us of our mortality. And if we don't want to come to a head
with that reality, then we need to train, regularly, and with dedication. A
Bruce Wayne level of dedication. But they're comics, right? Nothing you can
learn from them, nothing to be taken seriously. Perhaps not.

If you research the abilities of any hero
without a legit
super
power you get one recurring description,
"Peak physical condition;" on par with or surpassing the greatest of
athletes. And it makes sense. They're running people down, dodging bullets,
climbing walls, and bare-knuckle brawling with the toughest the world has to
offer. If you look at us you don't see that same degree of physical
intimidation, the closest we come is either Carter or Alvin, and Alvin only
because of his ability. Yet a team is only as strong as its weakest link, so
who is weakest amongst us? And how then can we even consider ourselves
protectors?

We can't. If so, of whom? If Alvin
hadn't showed up in Los Angeles
it'd have been a loss and we all know it. We can't rest on luck, we're charging
into a battle we know we've already lost once.

If this were a two hour show where we'd be
talking into shoes or speaking gibberish, wondering why the world can't
understand us, it would be a non-issue. But I like who I am, and even if all
this hypnotic brain-rewiring is like a super warrior light switch, and I
control when it happens, I have a hard time getting over the fact that a part
of me won't be original anymore.

Or maybe I'm overreacting. At our core, we are
ordinary people. None of us have a military background, and few have ever
participated in sports. We are not a dream team, the closest any of us have
come to any form of combat would be a bar room brawl. We are beneath the rank
and file, and this could change that. It's fast and efficient. I'm just not
sure I'm comfortable with the sacrifice.

–
5/16
–

Kaylie Horn
-

Okay, let me be honest with you, lady. I don't
know how much is too much, and maybe I'm a little too young and naive to know
how far is too far, but one thing is certain: My life is on the line too. I'm
going to die too. And if I'm going to die I would like to know it was done
while doing the best I could. So far I haven't been doing my best. I've been
watching Laurie, Alvin, Otep, Prisca, and Carter, and Michael, and Thomas...
I've been watching them do their best.

Me? I've been going to school, just like
normal; doing my homework, just like normal; hanging out with friends, just
like normal. I'm acting as if everything is normal. And I want things to be
normal, but they aren't, and won't ever be again.

Maybe that's why my parents treat me the way
they do. Because I tell them I want to help, I stomp and pout if they even hint
that I can't visit the island; and yet I still gossip on the phone, and Skype
with boys, and plan movie dates with my friends. I get it, I still want to be a
teenager. Sue me!

But I can't. I know I can't, and as much as
they want me to, they know I can't either. I'm their little girl, reluctant to
turn into their little warrior.

Today we checked one of the hard choices off
the list. We crossed a line and came to a definite decision about what, of
ourselves, we are willing to sacrifice to complete our mission.

Did we go too far? No. At least I don't think
so.

But the parents aren't happy with me, they've
made that clear multiple times. They sat in the back like good little
cheerleaders in the stands, giving me the cold judgmental stare. I get it, they
want their little girl to be their little girl, they don't want to me on the
front lines fighting the evils of the world. That "isn't my place."
Well to hell with where my place is
supposed
to be, right? This is what
I've chosen and I think I'm old enough to make that decision for myself.

Mom made a quick exit and dad didn't follow,
which let me know right away they weren't seeing eye-to-eye. That's not to say
dad was happy with that I'd done. I know he spoke with Otep and Thomas for
quite some time after the meeting. Maybe they were able to get through to him.
Whatever.

What we're doing is unprecedented, and I can't
afford to be stuck on the sidelines when it all blows up in our face just
wishing
I could help. Because I
can
help. I have chosen to help, because
although I've had far from anything that can be considered a rough life, I
finally had a taste of true helplessness, and it didn't feel good. In fact I
despise it.

So, yes, make me more courageous. Take the fear
from my heart, because when the time comes, and with each passing day it's
looking like the time will come, I don't want to doubt myself. I want to be
able to do what needs to be done. That's the confidence I want and this is what
needs to be done to get it, and I'll be damned if selfish parental anxiety
prevents me from accomplishing it.

Wow, lady, kinda sounds like I've grown a pair,
doesn't it?

–
5/17
–

Michael Serna
-

I forced myself to remember the reason we were
actually going through with this as the sun shined brightly through a patchwork
of clouds; it was a nice day. It was about 9:30pm EST, but a full twelve hours
later local time. Infinity Isle sat in the warm blue water a couple dozen miles
off the western coast of Australia,
in the Indian Ocean. I could have been
enjoying the lovely temperate weather; however, the only thought on my mind was
thank god I'm not the guinea pig.
That was Laurie, he picked the short
straw.

The water was calm, the stage was set, and the
rest of us were watching Thomas and Laurie from a safe distance. Laurie laid
back and Thomas began. He'd told us exactly what he'd planned to say, but he
still wore a mic that recorded his every word. We could've listened in if we
wanted, and Kaylie mocked us for our apprehension.

Am I afraid of what needs to be done? No. Or
maybe I'm afraid to admit it to myself. There's something about someone
tinkering with the innermost intricate workings of my brain that unsettles me.
I'm not a machine, so the idea of being programmed
does not compute
. I
saw the look on Kaylie's face in Los
Angeles, she wasn't herself; I haven't even seen a
hint of that person since.

Am I going to slip into a similar trance? I
mean, I know I won't; the only thing he's doing is giving us confidence and
focus under great pressure, along with a greater tolerance for pain. I get it,
honestly.

Prisca was a little more logical about her
doubts, she'd brought a tablet out with the same graphic videos as before,
quelling any hesitation with the reality of her mortality. She doesn't want to
die, a fact she's frequently repeated ever since we've started this whole
endeavor. None of us do, and those clips drove home the harsh reality. People
fear us because of what we're capable of, and it is extraordinary, but a well
placed bullet can still take out the greater majority of nocs. Myself included.
Guns remain the great equalizer.

Around the time I started wondering just how
long the process what going to take, it was over. Laurie got up and performed a
funny little happy dance to let us know he was alright. Prisca was next; I
asked her how she was feeling about it. She placed a hand over one of her
bullet wounds and said, "Much better than I feel about these."

When Laurie came to sit with us Kaylie asked
him how he felt, he said no different than before, likening it more to a pep-
talk than anything else. Doesn't sound so bad.

Now we wait a pointless two days (Mr. Powell
anyone?) to see if any side effects manifest, and if not, the rest of us go
through the same.

–
5/18
–

Prisca Amin
-

Go ahead and ask me what the best part of my
day was. Care to guess? It starts with "wind" and ends with
"tunnel." I didn't think I could have so much fun being blown all
over the place, I may just head down there just to relax sometime.

Speaking of "down there" exactly how
many sub-levels does that island have? I mean, they told us it was more than
just rock, but I never bothered to look through the maps. So, yeah, it was on
one of the sub-levels, if it can even be called a sub-level since the whole
island floats. Anywho, it's this big open tunnel with massive turbines on the
front.