Marrow (19 page)

“It’s really quite simple,” said Fantom. “I was hoping you would be my new sidekick.”

Verbal shellshock—that’s what my brain was experiencing at the moment. Fantom’s offer came like a flash grenade. I didn’t know what to think. I
couldn’t
think. And breathing had suddenly become as confusing as rocket science.

Everything I had ever wanted was suddenly being handed to me—right here, right now.

So why wasn’t I excited?

Fantom’s grin began to slip slightly as he waited for a response. So I responded with the first intelligent thought I could muster.

“Why?”

Most people would argue that that wasn’t an intelligent thought at all.

Fantom leaned back and chuckled. “I admire your modesty, Marrow. We already know that you were the real top scorer in the Final Challenge, not Nero. And you’ve proven your courage twice in one week. You are true hero material. Honestly, there would be no justice in this world if I didn’t take you on as a sidekick. And hey, we both know that I’m all about justice, right?”

Fantom said this last part with a smirk. I think he was trying to be funny, but I couldn’t even fake a laugh.

I didn’t feel like a hero at all. My gaze wandered back to Flex. His smile. The happiness was practically radiating from him.

“What about Flex?” I asked.

“Well, if you accepted, Flex would no longer be your mentor,” said Fantom.

My countenance sank. “Oh…”

My disappointment was mind-boggling. What the heck was I sulking about?

“You two make a phenomenal team,” said Fantom. “There’s no doubt about it. But…there’s a reason you two mesh so well.”

I knew why. As much as I loathed it, I knew it all too well.

“Because Flex and my father were a good team,” I mumbled.

Fantom nodded solemnly. “And there’s nothing wrong with that, mind you. But, given the circumstances, it might be healthier for you to take a break from Flex. And I mean no disrespect to either of you. However, the more time you two spend together perfecting your teamwork, the more you’ll be reminded of your father. And…well…I’m only trying to look out for your mental well-being.”

My head was swimming. On one hand I saw a perfect future: Train with Fantom. Become the next big hero. It was an inevitable pathway to success. On the other hand I saw something that I couldn’t quite put into words. Flex and I had made something out of nothing. We weren’t just overnight heroes. I don’t think I realized what Flex was to me until now—a big brother, a father, and a best friend all rolled into one. Was he obnoxious? Yes. Sarcastic? Of course. Rude? Booger-picking pirates had better social etiquette.

But I wouldn’t have him any other way.

“And if you’re worried about offending Flex, don’t be,” said Fantom. “He’s a loner. Always has been, always will be. As great a team as you two make, he’ll be happy for you. And he’ll be happy to go his own way.”

“Yeah…I guess,” I murmured unconvincingly.

“I’m not asking you to make a decision right away,” said Fantom, noting my hesitation. “Think it over. Sleep on it. I know you’ll make the right decision.”

People always say that. You know I'll make the right decision? How do you know what I’ll decide? Are you a Telepath or something? How do you even know what the right decision is? How can you say that?

So, naturally, I said, “I accept. I’ll do it.”

“Really?” said Fantom. “You sure you don’t need time to think it over?”

“It’s the opportunity of a lifetime,” I said. “What’s there to think about?”

“That’s the spirit. I’ll have my driver pick you up from Flex’s place. Say…tomorrow night at seven?”

“Sounds great,” I said, forcing a bleak smile.

***

Marrow…

I was standing on the glass elevator of the Tartarus. It descended further than any elevator should ever be capable of.

Can you hear me, Marrow?

I felt like I was being pulled into the center of the earth. But even as I descended to treacherous depths, the Gaia Comet never strayed far from my view. Its jagged surface reached out to me with stone claws, pulling my gaze in with its alluring green mist.

What are you hiding inside your head, Marrow?

Neon green eyes glowed from the shadows—eyes without a body.

Brother is going to kill you, Marrow…

I woke up drenched in my own sweat, lying on Flex’s piece-o’-crap couch. I tilted my head to the window. The sky was an off-black canvas, painted in the glow of city light and pollution.

A dream. It was only a dream.

Except that I remembered my experience on the Tartarus all too clearly.
That
wasn’t a dream. I had no idea what it was, but certainly it was more real than I cared to admit.

Being awake only reminded me that I still needed to talk to Flex. Too much had happened that night. I resolved to tell Flex about my conversation with Fantom in the morning.

The thought of it twisted my insides.

Unlike me, Flex woke up a new person. Seriously. Nothing could bring him down. The insurance company finally called and told him that his Volvo was totaled—big surprise there—and he laughed it off. When we walked to the auto shop to pick up the belongings from his car, he winced slightly at the sight of the videotape from Oracle, still sealed inside a manila envelope.

He then threw the videotape in the trash on the way out and seemed to lighten up instantly.

I paused at the trashcan as he kept walking. “What are you doing?” I asked.

“What do you mean, what am I doing?” Flex asked. “What are you doing?”

“Don’t you at least want to watch it?” I asked.

“Hmm,” Flex thought aloud. “The video was a way of getting me to come visit her. When I finally did visit her, she used both of us as bait for Spine. Um…I’m going to say no. No, I do not want to watch it. Not even a little bit.”

Flex turned back around and kept walking. I glanced back into the trashcan and cringed at what I was about to do.

I shoved my hand inside. Something slimy grazed my wrist. I shuddered as I fished the manila envelope out. Wiping my hand off on my pants, I hastily scrambled to catch up with Flex. His gaze shifted from me to the object in my hands.

“Really?” he said.

“I want to see what you looked like as a kid,” I said, which was actually true. I was pretty sure he wasn’t born with dreadlocks, but trying to picture him without them seemed impossible.

“You’re weird.” Flex’s critical stare morphed into an amused smirk. “I like it.”

***

My first concern as we arrived home was that Flex didn’t have a VCR, and I wasn’t exactly sure where I was supposed to find one. A museum, maybe?

I shoved this concern aside as Flex turned on the TV. I sprawled on the couch, facing the opposite direction. The last thing I needed was to see my father’s face on national news.

“…the Anti-Telepathy Movement has just become World War III,” a female news reporter announced.

Not what I was expecting. I shot back upright on the couch and faced the TV.

“Senator Statman has been the leading advocate in the Anti-Telepathy Movement,” the blonde news reporter continued. “Since Oracle’s rampage last night, manipulating one hundred and sixty-two people as well as twenty-one cats, Statman has seized the opportunity to make a final, crippling blow on the community of telepathic Supers.”

The screen shifted to an older, heavyset man with three chins and no neck. An army of microphones were shoved at his face.

“Telepaths are a danger to our nation,” said Statman. “Not only is the right to have private thoughts violated but so is the right to control our own bodies and minds, as we have seen last night. Oracle is a Telepath whom we have trusted with matters of national security. Who is to say how many security breaches have been made and how many minds have been tampered with as the government has carelessly worked with her? Whether or not she was integral in the capture of Spine is a completely invalid point. Telepaths need to be more than just regulated. They need to have their powers taken from them.”

The screen flashed back to the news reporter. “The President of the United States spoke in a public address earlier this morning, stating that every measure is being taken to assure that no such breaches have been made,” she said. “The White House has also issued what has rapidly become known on the internet as the Cronus Order—a mandate to gather into custody all Telepaths and to have their powers removed via the Cronus.”

Flex dropped the remote control onto the floor.

The screen shifted to a camera looking at the Cronus from inside Tartarus. The camera panned slightly, demonstrating the sheer scope of the cannon built onto the side of the Gaia Comet.

“Fantom recently revealed the Cronus Cannon,” the reported continued, “a machine built with the capability of utilizing and reversing the Gaia Comet’s radioactive energy to extract a Super’s power. The project was funded by Fantom himself and was developed by a team of scientists living on board the Tartarus research facility.”

The camera switched to a man in a white lab coat. His big glasses and frightening comb-over made him easily recognizable as Dr. Jarvis.

“This is the sort of epidemic that the Cronus was created for,” said Jarvis. Taking a Super of Oracle’s caliber into consideration, the Cronus needs to be used. And considering that there is technically no way of measuring the true level of a Telepath’s power, the Cronus must be used on all registered Telepaths. If we care about our public safety, then there is simply no other way around it.”

The reporter continued, “The Cronus Order commenced immediately following the President’s address. Due to the high-risk nature of the Cronus Order, SWAT teams are being utilized to gather the Telepaths in a military-style tactical approach.”

The screen became a shaky handheld camera view of an armor-clad police team breaking down a door and funneling into a house. A mother with a young child in her arms screamed. A father stepped forward to intervene but was shoved out of the way. Police barged through the house, shining flashlights down the hall and into bedrooms. Towards the back of the house, the camera and several lights honed in on a young boy in dinosaur pajamas standing in the middle of the bedroom.

“That’s the target,” said a voice from off screen. “Get him.”

The boy cried as they approached. They had only taken a few steps when the sound and picture on the camera became distorted, pierced by a high-pitched noise. Several of the officers crumpled to the floor, screaming as they clutched their heads.

“Get him, get him, get him!”

One of the officers managed to stagger forward with a familiar metal helmet in his grasp. He practically threw himself at the kid, managing to wrestle the helmet onto his head and latch it shut.

The boy was screaming and squirming as the police carried him out of the house. The mother was screaming even louder, thrashing and crying as one of the officers held her back.

“Even renowned hero, Fantom, is assisting in the Cronus Order,” said the reporter.

The scene transitioned to Fantom standing in front of a suburban backdrop. Several police officers rushed back and forth in the background, bathed in blue and red flashing lights.

“It’s a matter of justice,” said Fantom. “The Cronus Order came from the President of the United States himself. If I can’t uphold justice in this capacity, then what good am I as a hero?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Flex exclaimed. “Justice? This is supposed to be justice?”

Flex yelled and swiped the TV remote from the floor, only to chuck it at the wall. The plastic bottom panel and two batteries burst out on impact. Storming over to the TV, he kicked the button panel, miraculously managing to turn it off. Clutching handfuls of his dreadlocks, he staggered to the couch and collapsed beside me.

Dramatic much? Yeah, but I was used to it by now.

“This is sick,” he said. “It’s unconstitutional! Herding people up like cattle so we can use some experimental machine on them that hasn’t even been tested on humans yet? They didn’t even mention that tiny little fact, did they? And even if it does work, we’re taking away something
incredible
from these people! A gift that’s being treated like a curse. All because one Telepath went crazy. They haven’t even looked into why she did what she did. She’s obviously mentally unstable. But no, let’s just assume that all Telepaths are evil and do away with the lot of them.”

So much for nothing bringing Flex down today.

“And then here comes Fantom,” he continued, hardly done with his rant. “It’s a matter of justice.” He mockingly mimicked Fantom’s voice, puffing his chest out with his hands on his waist. His poor imitation sounded more like Barney the dinosaur. “That chucklehead wouldn’t know justice if it bit him in the—”

“But the order
did
come from the President,” I intervened. “I mean…that kinda legitimizes it, doesn’t it?”

“The President only gave the order because the government used Oracle to help them find terrorists,” said Flex. “Her doing something like this immediately taints everything they’ve accomplished. So, obviously, they have to disassociate themselves from her in every way possible. But that’s no excuse for a Super like Fantom getting sucked into their twisted charade. It’s like he’s
letting
himself be used as their puppet.”