Chapter 16: Dark Shadows

I ended up flying— just above the general rooftop levels, at a couple hundred kilometers an hour— back to where I’d left my backpack. I was still in the same place, but then again, I’d pretty much ensured that it would be, putting it where I did. I then took some time— a couple of hours— to stay put, just in case little miss nosy had decided to follow me to try and find out my secret.

I did tell her not to trust anyone; why would I not follow my own advice?

I figured that, by the time the sun was really beginning to lighten the sky, that if she had followed me, she would have gotten impatient— and, of course, afraid of maybe being caught out all night by her parents— and left, and so I casually made my way back to my motel.

It had been an eventful night, from the arrival of Tony and the idiotic pair, to stopping a bit of rape. I was sufficiently bushed by that point, and so I got into my room, locked up, and crashed.

When I finally woke up, sometime around noon because I had to make use of the bathroom, I made the mistake of turning on the news, and what I heard was not comforting.

“Speaker of the House of Representatives Nanci Pelosi was officially sworn into the office of the President of the United States this morning, after President Kevin Harris, formerly known as President Kamala Harris, was pronounced comatose and unresponsive following her— his, excuse me, his official swearing, and subsequent contraction of the virus that resulted in... his, gender change, following the death of President Joe Biden during the events immediately preceding and surrounding the destruction of Malkin’s Asteroid,” the female newscaster was saying.

The scene shifted from her face and upper body in the news studio, to show several short video clips.

“It is suspected and believed that President Pelosi will make a push to enact a nationwide martial law, with the rapid breakdown in the federal government over the last several weeks,” she continued, “Some question the wisdom of such an action, despite growing unrest and the growing number of riots occurring as local law enforcement agencies have reported suffering a nearly eighty percent loss of personnel in some places, and clashes between law enforcement and local communities grow increasingly heated and antagonistic.”

Shots of rioting citizens were showing in some of the video clips, as well as interactions with law enforcement wherein the police were almost dizzyingly quick to escalate to just short of lethality in attempts at crowd control, and where in some cases, their actions backfired badly.

“Some advisors to President Pelosi have remarked candidly that the implementation of martial law could have an increased negative impact on the already fragile state of the federal government and its relationship with its citizens, while others strongly suggest that implementing martial law may be the only viable solution in an already turbulent storm of uncertainty for the country.”

The scene returned briefly to the newscaster, before changing yet again, showing a map that highlighted another country— Brazil, if I was seeing correctly.

“A series of explosions tore through the city of Brasilia yesterday, and it is very strongly implied that the series of explosions, due to bombings of government buildings in the capital, were aimed at the removal of the federal government of the country—”

At that point, I turned the television back off.

That explained the behavior of the police officers from the night before, but it also told me that the shit storm was only just beginning. I sat back, and took a bit of time to think about all the ways in which this shit was going to get really ugly, really fast.

The first thing I would need to do, would be to get out of this motel.
It just wouldn’t do, for what things I had planned.

But that could wait, I decided; I could consider what things I would need to do, where I would need to go, after I’d gotten something to eat, and had a few moments to just relax. So, my afternoon was taken with a jaunt to a nearby place to eat— the Pizza Hut on the other side of town, though to be honest, that was only just about four or five miles away— and then some time spent on reading and a bit of writing. Thankfully, being the weekend, I didn’t have to put in any work.

Unfortunately, I got more unhappy news the next time I turned on the news; this time, the news was about last night’s activities, and I was the talk of the town.

“In the news this evening, “ the newscaster began, a male this time, “local law enforcement gave a statement stating that they are searching for a pair of masked Powered individuals, encountered last night on the university’s campus. The initial encounter was with an officer on the university’s campus police force; metropolitan forces were called in as reinforcement, and the situation escalated into one of violence on the part of one of the Powered individuals, who disobeyed the officers’ orders to stand down. One of the officers in last night’s encounter, wishing to remain anonymous, had this to say.”

The scene cut over to one of a person cast in silhouette, their face dark and unrecognizable, a soft light shining from behind them, and their voice altered so as to hide their identity. The officer’s words seemed to paint a picture of me being a hardass, of someone deliberately uncooperative, and making them and their brethren out to be almost country bumpkins who were politely asking me to be nice, while I tried my damnedest to hurt them.

And not once did they, or the news broadcast, mention anything about the assault and rape.

That, pissed me off.

Either the police were deliberately covering up that there was an assault on the university campus, in order to put more attention on the so-called “problem” of Powered folks, or they were so caught up in the idea of Powered folk that they were ignorantly neglectful about the fact that they hadn’t said anything to the public about the assault on campus. Either way, they weren’t talking about what was really important— making the guilty pay for their crimes against the innocent.

And I wasn’t about to let that stand.

I took the next two or three days to familiarize myself with the university campus, specifically the journalism department, and even more specifically the journalism classes and a few of their students, especially the just-about-to-graduate students. Being that it was technically the university’s summer session of classes, it took a little bit of effort to find someone who looked trustworthy, at least relative to how trustworthy anyone in the field of journalism and reporting media could be.

Even as I was walking into the journalism class, on the day I chose to make my statement, I was more than aware of how arrogant my actions could look from the outside. But, I also knew that, firstly, right now it didn’t matter about what my true thoughts or motivations were, that my reputation would be determined by what others saw of me, and at the moment, I needed that appearance of arrogance, in order to establish myself as someone not to fuck with. Of course, I also knew that I was painting an even larger target on my back for doing so, for those whose own arrogance wouldn’t let them do anything but try to assert their dominance, but I felt like I was prepared for that. Secondly, though, I knew my own motivations; if appearing to be an arrogant bastard brought grudging respect, and— more importantly— brought me peace and solitude from people thinking that they could influence what I did, then I could live with people thinking me to be arrogant.

The class was pretty small, and the professor of the class stopped lecturing to the class of students within seconds of my arrival, though I’m sure that my outfit helped draw as much attention as my entrance.

I strode down to the front of the small lecture room, and turned to look at the students sitting there, their attentions fully on me at the moment.

“Um, excuse me?” The professor offered in a tone I could tell, even without looking at him, that was irritation-laced curiosity, “But who are you and—”

I cut him off.

“I’m here to borrow one of your students,” I interrupted him, “and, no offense, but the quicker you let me do that, the quicker you can get back to your job.” I could almost hear the expression on his face sour further, but I wasn’t paying attention to his face; I was paying attention to the students’.

At the very last second, I decided to choose three students, instead of a singular one like I’d originally had in mind. “You, you, and you,” I gestured to a Latina young woman, an African-American young man, and a Caucasian young woman, “I’m choosing the three of you as interviewers, just the three of you; I need you to live-stream, and I need you to come outside with me.”

I’m pretty sure that they were intrigued, but not very impressed, until I lifted up off of the ground and hovered just below the ceiling; but then I had their interests and the interests of every other student there. I learned their names- Marcella, Bruce, and Christina, before I turned to leave. “Just the three of you,” I intoned, even though I was pretty sure that that was a useless reminder.