Authors: Ben Bequer
It was a strange feeling, to be sitting there alone on that balcony, watching the sea roll slowly by. Strange because I was about to do something I didn’t believe in. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust the science, or thought that the process itself was flawed, or even that Retcon himself would be mistaken. That part wasn’t what was bothering me. In fact, I understood it all, more so than most, and it was all viable.
I guess what gave me pause was going from one step of this journey to the next without giving anything much more thought, and this whole thing seemed like madness to me.
It was typical Retcon, even though it turned out that all his life’s efforts had been to redeem a mistake that set the whole thing in motion. I could understand his motivations, and see all his angles, but his methods were impetuous, hell it was all crazy. They called him an evil master villain, but he was just a guy who acted impetuously, a guy who was so sure of himself, so knowledgeable, he needed no counsel. Maybe that’s what originally appealed to me about the whole mission, to work with someone so sure of themselves, when I was a bastion of failure and self-pity.
But that’s what was scaring me now. This whole plan screamed of madness. I could understand his hesitance with wanting to share what he knew, to let the whole world know of the real threat. He’s Dr. Retcon; no one is going to listen to him. I found myself in a similar situation, in fact. But that’s an oversimplification of things. If he wanted to work with others, to solve the problem in conjunction with the world’s greatest scientific minds, he would have. From the beginning.
He could have asked Nostromo or his daughter to present his data to the world, to build a coalition of nations, combining the assets of the planet as a whole. But that would have meant working with others, sharing the credit, or perhaps getting none.
Hubris was his flaw, his mistake, and it not only caused the accident that created this problem in the first place, it’s also clouded his mind thereafter, making him think he was the only one who could solve it. His arrogance has led us here, thinking he was the only one gifted enough to deal with the alien threat.
That arrogance, that hubris, that propensity to make big mistakes that got a lot of people hurt, I saw darkly reflected on me.
Now, this plan of his may have merit, may be scientifically sound. Tesla was a genius, as was Retcon himself, and on the surface there was a chance it might work. The rest of the world wouldn’t see that. They would come looking for blood, eager to put the old man away, to stop his latest mad plan at whatever the cost.
So, in essence, he was destined to fail. So self-assured, so confident and knowledgeable, but there was no way this plan would succeed, not with all the planet’s resources leveled against him. Something was bound to go wrong. I know what he wanted, from me and the others, and Nostromo and Apostle; to stem the tide, to give the Telluric shield a chance to engage. But what could I do against guys like Epic, Paladin and Lord Mighty? Even if they had the decency of coming one at a time, they’d crush me. Besides, they’d bring large numbers and swarm us. And if I managed to live through this, the only thing I’d have to look forward to a ten by ten cell in Utopia jail in the North Atlantic, left there to rot and be forgotten.
I knew that it wouldn’t work.
More than that, I was afraid that something would go wrong, that I’d be blamed for it again. And they’d be right. I had gone into this whole affair at full speed, trying to prove something about myself. No one was to blame as much as I was.
Nothing could erase what I’d done, or cleanse the blood from my hands. I’d walked the path freely and no jail could hold my shame. Braxton could put me away for the rest of my life, stick me in the deepest, darkest pit and that would be fitting. It would echo the blackness in my heart, a cancerous growth nurtured by my own bitterness, envy, and avarice.
My true crime was ignorance. A sense of entitlement drove me, but in the end my efforts were pointless. I’d been a child, building sand castles too close to the shoreline, always in danger of being washed out to sea. Except I was a man, and I’d never had to be one.
I’d never really faced the man I had become. I was hurt and angry at Apogee’s dismissal of my hardships and how they’d shaped me. I thought the circumstances surrounding my turn towards being a criminal were all the explanation necessary. Who wouldn’t feel like exacting some payback on a system so eager to ostracize the truly remarkable? Who wouldn’t be tempted to take what others weren’t willing to give? It made perfect rational sense to me.
Of course it was all bullshit. The truth, stripped to its pulsing, fragile core was that for all my supposed strength, I was weak. I was a bully wrapped in ostentatious rags emboldened by intellect and arrogance, and others had suffered and continued to suffer because of it. Yet they had found the steel to soldier on without debasing themselves, while I became a petty soulless creature, concerned with the paintings on my wall, the shine on my Bentley, the glow of a false life not worth living.
A life brought on at the expense and pain of others.
Oh, I lied to myself. Convinced myself that nobody was getting hurt. I was stealing from banks, who were insured. I was hurting insurance companies and their bottom line, I told myself, as if that was some sort of justification. Now, faced with the truth, all I saw were the pained faces of the folks I robbed, the armored car guards, the bank tellers, the people I had threatened and victimized. They would live their lives scarred by that encounter, explosions from my gadget arrows blowing around them, a frenzied man in a black suit terrifying them for a few thousand dollars.
There was a woman, a teller at a small bank in Pasadena, I couldn’t get out of my head. She was a small petite thing, maybe in her late forties. Not pretty, made up to look as inconspicuous as possible. She had a wedding ring and no other jewelry. This woman had wanted to live a normal life, unencumbered by the fantastic or the horrifying.
I stood over her, towered really, as she panicked, and began to pray. She did nothing but pray. Another teller came over and gently moved her aside, saving her from my savage verbal assault. She closed her eyes, terrified of me, and prayed. The woman expected me to kill her.
The other teller opened her till and ripped out the money, carefully following my commands to avoid the marked bills and the sensors to warn the police. He then opened his till and gave me his money. The man was calm, scared for certain, but calm, and he assured me that they wouldn’t call the police until I was well gone.
I shot a glance back at her, as I left the place, my victorious loot thrown into my backpack, and saw her shaking, openly weeping. Her life forever changed by our encounter.
I had it down to a science, but I had never considered the impact of what I had become. Never thought of the innocents I had savaged.
The fight with Atmosphero, and the Superb Seven had only cemented in my mind that using my powers and abilities irresponsibly was fine, since heroic figures were just as reckless.
But that was no justification, when there were victims in my wake.
Like Pulsewave. I could say it was life or death, but I had put myself in a position where hurting someone was the only alternative. Bad Karma had also been seriously injured that night, and I had never bothered to care until now. While her injuries had come at the hands of Cool Hand, her blood was on my hands. I stood alongside him, been charmed by his humor, longed for the whole ‘superteam’ feeling, and overlooked his neurotic and cowardly tendencies.
I had also conveniently ignored working with a psycho like Dr. Zundergrub. At first because of my lust for Influx, but after that my desire became beating the heroes, as if they represented those that had turned my life upside down.
I guess that’s why I had pursued Apogee like I had, perhaps even fallen in love with her. If she could fall for me, then I could find some sort of salvation. If I got the seal of approval from Pulsewave’s ex-girlfriend then I was good, right?
Except it wouldn’t work out that way. Nothing Apogee could say or do would call off the dogs on me. Braxton and the world’s authorities wanted me.
I had to pay.
When I offered to turn myself in to Apogee, I had been honest. In part, I was looking for her approval, as if that could cure the disease inside me. But in truth that salvation wasn’t hers to give, and I was wrong in going to her for it.
I had sold myself to Dr. Retcon and his missions easily, cheaply.
Even now, as we prepared for what seemed like a worthwhile cause, I was still at someone’s beckon call, I was still a peasant to another master. If another man was my master, then I was still subject to his whims, victim to all his mistakes, in addition to mine. Whatever came of this, I had bought into it, and my fate was forever intertwined with Dr. Retcon’s’.
Standing there on that balcony overlooking the onrushing sea, I decided one thing; no matter what happened on this day, I resolved to make amends. To all those I had harmed in the days past, to those whose lives I had crushed. More importantly, to myself because I was better than what I had become, and I wouldn’t rest until the whole world knew that, and learned to forgive me for what I had done.
The cool sea breeze blew and I closed my eyes, feeling the wind on my face. I had been to hell and back, and lived to laugh about it.
I guess I had wanted to be a charming, lovable bad guy, in the style of Han Solo or Rhett Butler, an affable rogue, beloved by the people, like Robin Hood. I had even dressed the part, but in the real world, your actions have consequences, the path we walk creates a wake, changing us from that day forth. Whatever I had become, was more odious than lovable.
A butterfly starts its life as an ugly caterpillar, a hideous, bulbous creature that only a hungry bird could love. But once it is ready, it metamorphoses into a beautiful creature. As I stood there, watching the early morning rays begin to crack over the horizon, I knew that from that day on, I had to change, to never be on the wrong side again.
I knew that Blackjack was dead.
* * *
When I returned to my room, Apogee was still asleep, but my ruckus quickly woke her.
She had this oddly attractive quality that when waking, all bleary eyed and hair still a mess, that made me stand and stare at her. Madelyne shielded her eyes from the light that spilled from outside the room, and I was about to apologize when she rolled over and turned on a light on the nightstand.
Apogee wore one of my t-shirts, a habit of hers that I was starting to enjoy and something that made her that much more alluring.
“Dr. Walsh was here earlier.” she said, rubbing the cobwebs out of her eyes as she sat up. “She told me their plan.”
“Yeah, I just met with Retcon.”
“Really?”
I nodded and plopped on a chair.
“I told him I couldn’t do it,” I admitted, staring at the floor.
She inched closer, coming to her knees, coming right up to me and putting herself in my line of sight, “So?”
I shrugged, “He seems to think that I’m uniquely qualified for the job, amongst every super in the world. So I guess I have to stay.”
Apogee knelt back, sitting on her feet, considering the situation.
“I need to know something, Dale,” she began, then struggled with how to continue. “This machine, the one that Dr. Walsh and Dr. Retcon are building-“
“Built,” I corrected.
“They already built it?”
I nodded. “Retcon has a secret power, one that no one knows about. In addition to being super strong, super smart, all that stuff, he’s also…how do I put this? He’s unstuck in time, and he has access and full awareness of himself in all previous timelines. So he’s able to go back in time and make minor changes, so long as they don’t affect space-time.”
“That makes no sense.”
“Actually, it’s quite brilliant. That’s how he’s been communicating with us, despite being in Utopia prison.”
“No, I mean why not do things himself then? Why not find all those things himself?”
“He didn’t want to arouse any suspicion,” I said. “See, everything he’s done so far, the moon thing, stealing the Russians Nukes, it was all done to try to stop the aliens from destroying Earth. Retcon was the lead designer of the original device, the one that’s in Nostromo’s moon base, and he thinks he’s responsible for getting the aliens to start looking at our planet. In a way, he’s probably right. We’re only about five million years removed from monkeys, and in evolutionary terms, we’re newborns. The aliens shouldn’t even care about us.”
“I don’t know,” she said, interrupting my stream-of-consciousness rambling. I was exhausted, still dirty and covered with grime and blood from all the Shard World fighting, and more importantly, I was tired to the core. My very soul was tired.
“Why?”
“A lot of those alien species we encountered, in the village and what not, they didn’t look terribly advanced.”
“Neither does a cockroach but there’s fossils that are 350 million years-old. Hell, sharks are over 450 million years old, so-“
“I don’t see them coming from across the galaxy to harvest cockroaches. Do you?”
I smiled. “You have a point.”
“I think they’re random. Careless, even. I mean, how much thought do you give to an ant at your feet? That’s what we are to them, really. But yes, I think we’re next because Retcon made them aware of us with his experiments. We’ve done the worst thing possible, given the wide disparity in our evolutionary levels, we’ve made them curious.”