Super Genetics
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Chapter 62: Bringer of Light
🕑 Added 2024-06-03 20:03:25 +0000 UTC[A/N]: Damn...
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Tania, Katie, Tristan, Peter, and Alan spoke in low voices as they waited at the Keeper of the Plains plaza for Terry to return. Terry’s three ghoul bodyguards were present as well, though they ranged around in the fog, scouting for errant sanguine who might have survived the raid.
Dalton was also present, though he was sitting in the idling armored vehicle on the nearby road. Terry had portaled both the man and the vehicle to their location thirty minutes earlier. The driver had requested to come and the armored car would see them safely across the wasteland stretching between Wichita and Topeka.
“What’s taking so long?” Katie asked no one in particular. “I feel like there’s eyes on me in this fog.”
“Never did get used to it,” Alan added, hunching his shoulders up protectively.
Tania forced a stoic tone in her voice, though she also felt utterly exposed in the plaza. Whipvine—or worse, War Crimes—could be racing toward them at A-rank speeds even now. “Be patient, he knows what he’s doing.”
That settled them for a bit and the group forced themselves into some idle chatter. A minute later, Tristan’s eyes went wide as he looked at something over Tania’s shoulder. She whirled around, her heart suddenly racing as she expected a revenant, a sanguine spawnling, or even the Emperor himself.
Instead—in the distance—she saw a flash of bright light.
No, not a flash.
Light blossomed far away in the night sky, fighting against the heavy fog—and losing. But a moment later, another spark lit, slightly closer and fighting just as hard to penetrate the Emperor’s working.
Then, another. And another.
They continued to materialize in the distance, growing ever closer; like a string of lights hung up in a backyard, but as bright as the sun.
As they approached, Tristan was the first to realize what they were seeing.
“He’s using his portals to light up Wichita!” He turned to face the others wide eyed. “He’s dispelling the darkness!”
No one spoke as the lights continued to bloom, spread equidistant from each other by a few hundred feet. It was a far cry from the full light of a normal summer day; but to Wichita, it was as if the sun had finally returned.
Shouts of shock and joy rang up from nearby and Tania could imagine them echoed all across the city.
When a portal appeared directly over the Keeper of the Plains and sunlight streamed down on their faces, even they couldn’t help but cheer.
Terry appeared a moment later, sweat beading on his brow, his hair loose from his usual ponytail, stringy against his sweat-soaked face.
“That’s all I’ve got,” he said wearily. “I left just enough juice to get us outside the walls.”
The members of Feed Wichita swarmed him, cheering and slapping him on the back or wrapping him in hugs. He seemed taken aback at first, then smiled as their celebrations infected him.
As for Tania, she kept herself restrained, letting the others drown him in praise.
His head was big enough already without her gushing over him too.
When the others settled back, Terry looked over at her, a weary smile on his face.
“Whatdya say? Ready to go see the world?”
She snorted. “I’ve seen the world, remember? Anyways, Topeka hardly counts as the world.”
He chuckled at that, the corners of his lips turning up slightly.
As he leaned in, Tania quietly gasped. His eyes burned with a golden fire that had never been there before.
“Topeka’s just the start, Tania. We’re going to make a difference in this world.” He turned to regard them all with a steady stare, his eyes still alit with golden flecks of power. “We’re going to bring hope to the hopeless and show this world that good does still exist.”
And to her surprise, she believed him.
***
The armored truck bounced over the untamed wilderness outside Wichita. It was crowded in the vehicle, but the hopeful mood kept everyone in good spirits. They argued over who had killed the most sanguine, laughing as Alan claimed victory by reminding them of the silver-infused flood. Then they joked about the look on War Crimes’ face as they portaled away directly under his nose. The mood sobered a bit as they remembered Flore and Vlad, but the conversation ultimately trended hopeful as they all agreed that their deaths’ hadn’t been in vain.
Wichita was once again illuminated and no longer hungry—and that would have to be enough.
But Terry only half-listened as the rest talked; his mind couldn’t help but return to the roses in his bag that he hadn’t yet dove into.
Settling into the corner near the window, he pulled out one of the two roses and held it between his fingers. The truth lay in these last two roses; his unfulfilled Quest confirmed as much. At first, he had been so eager to decode his mother’s roses, get to the truth of her disappearance as fast as possible.
Now, he hesitated.
Is ignorance bliss? he wondered.
No. After everything he’d learned, everything he’d seen, he knew that to be false. He wouldn’t be like Mesmer, hiding from the truth like a coward. He would face it head on and deal with the consequences.
Taking a deep breath, he accepted the notification prompt and dove into the first rose.
The void that was becoming familiar stretched out below him. Green balls of light hung in space, strung together in a line. Some instinct told him this was his father’s rose even before he dove into the first memory.
As the scene resolved in his mind, he recognized his parents in their bedroom. He hesitated, afraid he might be walking into a memory that contained things about his parents that no child wanted to witness. His father was reading a book on the bed as his mother walked into the room.
She stopped at the door and Terry could see her trembling. But James didn’t take his eyes off the book as he spoke.
“Hey, hon. How was your walk?”
His tone was light, distracted. But when she didn’t answer, his eyes flicked up from the page. He dropped his book and sat up in surprise.
“Pen? What’s wrong?”
“James…” Her voice trembled, hesitation and fear obvious in an instant. “I have something—” She cut off, tears suddenly streaming down her face.
His father rushed over, his eyes wide as he grabbed his mother by her arms.
“What is it?” She looked away and he bent down until they were eye to eye. “Pen? You’re scaring me.” His eyes flashed, panic spreading in an instant. “Is it Terry? Oh, God, what happened?”
She shook her head frantically, the tears flying away.
“No,” she said, her voice tight. “Terry’s fine. He’s in his room.”
James let out a sigh of relief, then narrowed his eyes.
“Then what is it?”
She looked up at him now and Terry moved through the memory to get a better look at her face.
God, I miss her face…
“I-I received a Quest—” James’ face dropped and he suddenly recoiled.
“Pen! Don’t!”
She looked pained, but her face suddenly set in a determined grimace, as if she were fighting through terrible agony.
“Listen to me, James. I received a Quest—” She closed her eyes against the pain, forcing the words out. “—that I can’t complete.”
“Stop.” He was whispering now, his voice weak.
She shook her head, her jaw clenching over and over again.
“Listen,” she hissed through her teeth. “I need to do die.”
James wheeled back, his legs clipping against the bed, causing him to stumble. He didn’t seem to notice, his eyes wide, horrified.
But his mother’s face was hardened now, and she continued through gritted teeth.
“You need to make…me…revenant.”
“Pen, no!” he gasped.
“Listen to me.” She approached him slowly, her eyes burning silver. “I can’t see it coming. My System is fighting me—” Her eyes clenched tight. “—even now.”
James continued backing away from her until his heels hit the dresser.
“Pen—”
She cut across him, her eyes snapping open.
“I. Can’t. See. It. Coming.”
She collapsed to one knee, her breathes ragged.
Terry pulled out of the memory, his father’s horror echoed inside his own mind.
She knew it would happen. She asked for it…
A Quest she couldn’t complete? Her System fighting her the entire time…
It was like a horror sim come to life. He couldn’t imagine his System fighting to control his very body. Was that what happened if Awakened broke the rules?
He considered the memories arrayed before him and felt a confusing jumble of fear and anticipation.
There were secrets here—secrets that had been kept from him for years.
He yearned to unlock those secrets, the answers to the questions that had been plaguing him for over a year.
But he was also terrified. What had been so dangerous that his mother had considered death a better alternative? Existing as a revenant the solution?
He had to know.
With a thought, he dove into the next memory.
They were in his parents’ suite again, his father entering through the door with a determined stride. He turned to the office connected to the main room and knocked briefly before pushing the door open. There his mother sat, one of her White Roses held gingerly between her fingers.
“I made one for you,” she whispered, unable to meet his eyes.
His father’s voice was laced with heat.
“I don’t want one, dammit.” He stomped toward her, pulling the rose from her hand and throwing it across the room. Her eyes followed the rose slowly, as if in a daze. “I want you, Pen. Not some…some…”
“Undead slave?” Her gaze snapped up now, mirroring James’ fire. “Is that what you think of Sebastian? Of Nick? The others? Are they just your father’s slaves?”
James couldn’t match her stare and he looked at the carpet as he chewed his lip.
“No…I guess not…”
“Then don’t hesitate.” She reached up and cupped his face, lifting it until their eyes met. “I love you and Terry more than anything, James.” Her eyes burned silver. “But if you don’t do this…I’ll do it myself.”
He reared back, recoiling from her grip.
“Don’t say that!” he hissed.
There were no tears in her eyes now, only a frigid surety.
“This is the only way…”
“What if I asked my father—”
Her eyes cut back hard enough to make James flinch.
“Absolutely not! If you let him turn me, I will never forgive you.”
He held his hands up, his eyes wide.
“Okay, Pen.” His voice was weary, defeated. “Okay…” He stepped closer, hesitant, unsure. “Is there no other way?”
She shook her head and her face softened.
“No, my love. There isn’t.”
His lips set as he searched her eyes—perhaps looking for some other way out. After a moment, he nodded, leaving without another word.
The memory ended and Terry was into the next without a thought.
James was alone with the Emperor, talking in low tones, explaining what he had agreed to do.
Terry expected his grandfather to argue, convince him to push back against Terry’s mother, or perhaps even offer to turn her himself.
Instead, he simply sighed and nodded.
“What do you need from me?” the Emperor asked.
Terry’s mind reeled at what his father said next.
“Order Cillian to do it. He’s the only one that she would never see coming.”
War Crimes…that bastard.
Things suddenly clicked into place inside his mind. The first memory from his own rose had been his mother’s murder—a gunshot straight to the heart. He had never connected the means to the revenant, would never have expected his grandfather’s own revenant to murder his mother. But he hadn’t known this had been planned.
Then, something the Emperor had said yesterday in the war room flashed into his mind.
“Your mother’s murderer is long dead.”
The unspoken part came to him like a blow: because he’s a revenant.
A part of him demanded he turn the caravan around and hunt War Crimes down. His mother’s murderer still roamed the Earth and he wasn’t sure if he could live with that fact. But the rational part of him knew that he wasn’t ready to take on the A-ranked Duelist. He was too weak, still.
But one day, he’d make the revenant pay.
It didn’t matter that the man had been put up to it by his parents. It didn’t matter that the Emperor had given his tacit approval.
That man had been a stain on humanity for decades and it was past time for someone to put him in the dirt once and for all.
But for now, there were more memories to consume and more answers to uncover.
As the next memory materialized, the man in question came into view and Terry felt his blood boil.
James approached War Crimes inside the car depot and the revenant had a brief look of surprise before masking his expression with a wry smile.
“My Prince.” He emphasized the word with a sarcasm that Terry had come to associate with the man. “You aren’t looking for me, by chance?”
Terry could see his father fighting to hide his loathing of the man—and failing. He took a deep breath, then met War Crimes’ eyes.
“I have a request for you, Cillian.” War Crimes facade faltered for the briefest moment. “It’s the most important thing I’ll ever ask of you.” James crossed his arms. “It’s the last thing I’ll ask of you.”
The memory continued as James explained what he needed and War Crimes went from shocked, to curious, and finally, to excitement.
“So, just to be clear. You want me to kill the princess. From distance. With a rifle. And…the Emperor is on board with this?”
Terry couldn’t help but notice the smile on the revenant’s face and he felt his anger ignite once more.
“Yes, Cillian.” James leaned in, his face terrifying in its intensity. “But I need to be there to turn her. If you do this and I’m not there, I will torture you for a hundred years.” He stepped in until they were face to face. “Do you understand?”
War Crimes snorted, the corner of his lip turning up in a smirk.
“Oh, I understand, my prince. Rifle shot—” He jabbed a finger into James’ sternum. “—right there. Can’t see it coming. And you have to be there.” He clicked his tongue. “Roger.”
His father whirled around, leaving without another word and the memory faded.
Rather than stew in his hatred for War Crimes, he moved to the next memory—only to recognize that fateful day.
The three of them were on that familiar trail by the river, walking hand in hand. He watched as little Terry ran off. Watched as the bullet hit his mother dead center. Watched as his father stared in horror at his dead wife and his screaming child.
He had seen this memory once before, but had ejected early from pure shock. Now, he resolved to watch it in its entirety.
His father was yelling now, trying to force younger Terry to stay back, look away. He picked the boy up and carried him off, depositing him out of sight of his mother.
“Stay here!” he yelled, then ran back to the body.
No, not a body—not yet. He watched as James sprinted back at superhuman speeds toward his mother, crouching down to cradle her head. Her eyes were glassy, unfocused as she stared up at the trees.
“Pen? Pen!”
Her confusion melted away and she locked her gaze on James.
“Te-Ter—” She cut off as a bloody cough took her.
“I’ve got you, Pen. I’m here.”
“Terry?” she breathed.
James shot his gaze back toward younger Terry, his eyes narrowing as he spotted War Crimes standing next to the boy, his hand on Terry’s shoulder, that vicious smirk seeming to cut into him.
“You bastard,” he muttered.
Another cough wracked Terry’s mother, and James snapped back to her.
“What have I done?” He clenched her hand, cradling her head. “What have I done?”
She met his eyes, her mouth moving, though no words came out. He leaned over, putting his ear to her mouth. Terry found he could hear the whisper, even from his vantage.
“I love you.”
The life went out of her eyes, her head falling limp in James’ hand. His father began to sob, even as Terry felt his aura stir. It began to seep into his mother’s body, penetrating the flesh and infecting her limbs.
After a handful of minutes, the work seemed to be done, though his mother remained inert. Then, James gently set her head down, pulled back the fingers clenched tight around his hand, and turned toward War Crimes with a terrible anger that would have frightened Terry were this anything but a memory.
War Crimes still had his hand on younger Terry’s shoulder and was leaning down, speaking softly to the boy. His head shot up just in time to see James bull into him, tackling him to the ground.
Fists pistoned into the revenant’s face, even as tears streamed down James’.
“IN FRONT OF MY SON!” he screamed, his fists smashing over and over. “YOU DID IT IN FRONT OF MY SON?”
To Terry’s eyes, it seemed that his father were about to finish War Crimes off once and for all. Though he knew internally the revenant was still around, there was something implacable about his father’s fury. Nothing could stop this pure rage, this raw hatred that flowed through James’ body and into his fists.
Nothing, except what happened next.
Younger Terry began to scream. No words, just a terrible, single-note scream. His eyes were clenched tight and his hands pressed against his ears.
The scream was so blood-curdling, Terry wanted to cry as he watched himself break down completely.
James stopped hitting the revenant, the blank look in his eyes faltering as he saw Terry. In an instant, he was off the man, wrapping Terry in a bear hug and whispering softly into his ear.
The memory continued, but Terry felt his mind retreat, only distantly paying attention as the sound of his younger self screaming played over and over again in his mind.
Comments
Will Keaton
Thanks!
Steven Beal
Thanks for the chapter
