Chapter Ten: Afterlife, Aftermath

Death's a difficult concept to come to grips with.

Are you really dead?

Does the mind live on?

I'm sure I read somewhere that your entire life flashes before your eyes in the seven seconds just before you truly die.

Is there something beyond death?

A heaven, or something similar?

I reckon my heaven would be Earth again, reborn in my own mind but I live longer than what I did in this life. Things would be better. Maybe I want that because I'm still young, I haven't experienced everything I could have.

What do elderly people long for during death?

A chance to right wrongs or do something they were too afraid to do the first time?

No one knows.

It'll probably remain that no one will ever know.

The worst would probably be nothingness.

But would it?

You wouldn't know if there was nothingness, would you?

Do you forget?

I don't think I'm going to die. I don't feel afraid. But maybe that's just me.

I'm floating in a void.

Complete darkness.

Tranquil?

Perhaps.

...

No. Definitely not.

It's eerier.

Loud.

Unsettling.

I can hear the crackle of a fire.

A sting in my chest.

A tightness.

Do you... feel death?

It'd be torturous if you did. At least I'd assume so. Passing to and fro... Dead... Alive... Dead... Alive...

There was a breeze.

Just cold enough to raise goosebumps on my chest and arms.

I shivered.

No.

I'm not dead.

I had been dying...

But not anymore.

Fury raised his head in surprise as one of the agents yelped in surprise. Looking over he spotted her trying to pull herself free of something that had a hold on her trouser leg. Shoving the pad he was reading at an agent standing nearby he took off running.

"Agent Mackenzie!" he boomed to the mechanic who had been giving instructions to a couple of younger agents.

Mack was already on the move, his ICER coming up as he moved in behind the Director.

By the time they reached the agent that had called out she'd managed to break free of whatever had had her pinned.

"Agent Leslie, what happened?" Fury asked her.

Breathless and embarrassed by her outburst, she hurriedly straightened her uniform before answering. "Something grabbed my leg,"

Fury raised a brow, skeptically.

"Sir," Mack said in a low voice.

"What?" Fury looked at him.

The mechanic pointed at the ground, protruding from the ground was a soot-coated forearm and hand, it was propped upright with the hand hanging limp. As the three SHIELD agents stared the limb twitched, Mack stepped back on reflex his gun training on his target.

Fury, on the other hand, knelt down and reached out toward where he figured the person's head would be. He gently brushed away the soot, sure enough, there was a person, tan skin, and a curly black curly mop for hair with an unshaven beard. Fury looked at Leslie.

"Get a medical team here," he ordered, then he looked at Mack.

The giant of an agent was stood staring at the body with recognition.

"Familiar?" Fury asked, though he'd already pieced together this was the initial suspect, but he wanted confirmation.

"This is the guy that was brought in on suspicion of attempting to kill Caleb Robinson's son," Mack explained.

Fury nodded his head, eyed the body, noted there didn't appear to be any burn marks on him. He frowned but didn't say anything.

"No burn marks," Mack commented.

Fury nodded once more. "Curious,"

"Some kind of enhanced person?"

"Possibly," Fury got to his feet. "What did you say his name was?"

"He told us it was Cyrus Quinton," Mack answered. "But he's lied to us before so it might not even be his real name,"

"He's not registered on the index," Fury said.

As the medical team approached and began prepping to move the body, it sat up.

This time, Fury was the one who took an instinctive step away.

Cyrus coughed, a thick plume of ash leaving his mouth. He groaned, rubbed a hand over his chest, his brows furrowing in slight pain. He looked around at the faces watching him from behind guns. He slowly raised his hands, swallowed, ended up spluttering.

"Cyrus Quinton?" Fury asked.

Cyrus nodded, his head was ringing and he still ached.

"Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine, just a little... Dizzy," came the reply. "What happened?"

"That's what I'd like to know," Mack said gripping his gun a little tighter.

"Easy," Fury warned.

"Sir, he died," Mack retorted quietly. "He owes us an explanation on how he's alive,"

"I agree, but this isn't the place," Fury told them. "Get him up."

As Mack pulled Cyrus onto his feet there was a bunch of commotion from beyond the line of SHIELD vehicles, turning around, Fury, Mack, and Cyrus watched as a group of reporters came charging up toward them with microphones and cameras.

"What the hell?" Fury scowled as he wandered toward them, holstering his weapon as he went. He pointed a finger at the group accusingly. "Who the hell let you through, this is a restricted area!"

Behind the reporters were four agents giving chase.

"Sorry, sir!" One yelled.

Fury whipped a finger to silence them. "I want those damn cameras turned off and the footage deleted,"

"Yes, sir," an agent acknowledged.

"Director Fury, can we get a word on what happened here?" an obnoxiously loud male voice called.

"Is that a survivor of the incident?" Another yelled. All cameras turned to Cyrus who stared wide-eyed in shock. Mack turned him away, using his large frame as a shield. Cyrus wasn't exactly presentable or modest in his charred, if not missing, clothing. They attempted following Mack's movements but a wall of other agents, who'd had to stop their own tasks, appeared and began to push the reporters back beyond the cars.

Mack tucked Cyrus into the back of an SUV before getting into the passenger seat in front of him.

They made eye contact in the rearview mirror.

"How are you alive?"

Cyrus coughed quietly. Sighed and looked down at his lap.

"It's... Complicated,"

"Complicated is in the job description," Mack growled. "Now tell me how you survived a raging house fire while Skye gets taken by armed men,"

"I'm not exactly... Normal,"

"I can tell, there's not a single burn on you," Mack said. "So, what are you?"

"Well, in truth, I'm an Inhuman," Cyrus told him.

"A what?"

"Part human, part... Alien," he explained looking out of the window.

"Alien... Great," Mack huffed. "And what exactly does that mean you can do?"

"Manipulate smoke,"

Mack turned in his seat. "So it was you,"

Cyrus raised his eyes and looked at him. Nodded with regret.

"Yeah... It was me,"

"Those were innocent people,"

"You don't need to remind me, I know what I did," Cyrus said. "My reason was sound, maybe I could've figured something else out but I didn't have a clear head... I still don't,"

"You had opportunities to call for help,"

"You don't know Caleb, he has a foot in every door, he'd have found out... He did find out, that's why we're in this situation,"

"This situation-" Mack began.

"I don't need you to remind me," Cyrus interrupted. "I know what I did, I know that it was wrong, and I know I can't be forgiven,"

"No, you can't, you should be locked up and left to rot,"

"Maybe, but not before I help you get Skye back,"

"That won't fix anything,"

"I know, but at least it'll make me feel a little better," Cyrus shrugged. "Besides, she was the only one that's actually given me a chance,"

"You didn't deserve a chance,"

Cyrus lowered his head and sighed.

No. Maybe I didn't.

Isabel impatiently paced up and down with her phone pressed to her ear. Cyrus hadn't called or picked up his phone in ages, his trip to the East of Canada in search of Jennifer was supposed to have ended two days ago, yet he still wasn't back. A mixture of worry and anger brewed in the pit of her stomach.

"Come on, pick up," she huffed as her phone went to voicemail for the thirty-seventh time that week. "Where are you?"

She was pacing around inside one of Afterlife's two lounge areas, here others were preparing for classes or just enjoying some downtime. One of the two TVs was on and showing the news, sat on the couch watching it was Malcolm.

"You alright?" he asked, turning around to look at her.

She nodded her head. "Yeah, I'm fine,"

"Cyrus not picking up his phone?" he nodded at the mobile in her hand.

"Are you eavesdropping on me?" she frowned.

"No. You just think out loud," he shrugged.

"He should've been back already," Isabel explained bluntly.

"Maybe he found a cute girl," Malcolm offered.

Isabel's nose curled slightly. As much as she didn't believe what he said, she did worry that's what had happened. She shook the thought out of her head and sighed.

"I doubt it,"

"I'm just saying if he can't give you the time of day to answer your calls maybe you should stop chasing after him,"

"Chase-" Isabel strode around the couch and glared at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You like him,"

"I do not," she snapped.

"No? Then you and I can hang out tomorrow,"

Before Isabel could retort an urgent news story flashed onto the screen, the distinct sound making both Isabel and Malcolm avert their attention to the screen. The newscaster, Marcy Oaks, was sat beside a flashing white box with the words 'Breaking News' flashing inside it.

"Just a few hours ago, we received word that the getaway home in Saratoga Springs of the famous Caleb Robinson, was destroyed in a horrendous incident," She started. "Our reporters at the scene aren't sure as to what happened exactly, but from the footage, it appears that the home was burned down in some kind of fire,"

Sure enough, there was a video segment of investigators wandering through the charred remains of a house. An angry looking male wearing an eyepatch came striding towards the bustling group of reports demanding them to turn off their cameras and leave the restricted area as they were investigating an active and sensitive case.

"Jesus," Malcolm muttered. "Who would do something like this?"

"Thankfully, the CEO of Engine, along with his family, was not within the residence at the time of its destruction. Insofar the authorities, which, according to our sources, is the government agency SHIELD, have not arrested anyone on suspicion of this heinous attack,"

Marcy paused for a moment. Touched her ear. Nodded her head.

"We've just received some extra video feed from our on-scene reporters suggesting that there was actually someone inside the house at the time it burned down, it's unknown as to whether or not this individual is a survivor or if he is indeed the arsonist,"

The footage was crisp, though there was motion blur from the cameraman either moving too much or being knocked by others, either way, the image of SHIELDs director, Nick Fury, was clear.

"Is that a survivor of the incident?" One of the reporters called out.

Almost immediately, the camera panned to the right and zoomed in on a young male covered head to toe in soot who was leaning heavily on a muscular looking SHIELD agent.

Isabel stared at the image for a while, but it only took a second to recognise who it was, there was no mistaking the face, hair, or build. She felt her heart sink as the image bore into her retinas. It was Cyrus.

"What the fuck," she breathed.

"What on Earth is he doing there?" Malcolm asked as he leaned forward on the couch.

"I thought he was in Canada," Isabel whispered.

"Clearly not," Malcolm snorted. "Clearly he's in New York,"

"Did you find something?" she asked quietly as the camera followed the SHIELD agent bodying Cyrus towards a vehicle.

"At least you know why he hasn't been calling,"

"You'd call me if you found something, I know you would," she continued to herself. "You've been lying to me about something,"

"Iz?" Malcolm asked. "You're talking to yourself,"

She looked at him. Said nothing. Then left the room.

"Iz?" Malcolm called after her.

Gordon was talking to one of the potential Inhumans he'd been tasked with preparing for Terrigenesis when the entirety of Afterlife shook violently. He straightened off the edge of his desk and looked around.

"What's happening?" the girl asked.

"Nothing good by the sounds of things," he replied. "Wait here,"

There was screaming.

As Gordon ran through the base towards the entrance he was met with waves of people heading in the opposite direction.

One of the older members rushed over to him.

"What's happening?" Gordon asked.

"Base is under attack," came the reply. "Not sure how they found us,"

"Dammit,"

"Some of those who've gone through Terrigenesis are trying to hold them off,"

Gordon didn't like this. "Get to the lower lounge with as many of the others as you can, stay hidden, I'll see if I can talk these people want,"

"They don't seem to be in a very talkative mood,"

"Anyone hurt?"

"I don't know,"

Gordon nodded and broke into a run.

Nearing the main corridor to the entrance he could hear the sounds of weapons being fired along with a few extra explosions. At the other end was a light show that was being reflected through a cloud of concrete that had been vapourised in the initial breach. There was a couple of bodies on the floor, neither of them was moving. Gordon ran to the closest one and crouched down, checked for a pulse, it was weak. Using his teleporting ability he took a firm grip on their t-shirt and moved the person to the lower lounge.

When he returned the second body was already gone, the dust cloud was settling and there was no light show.

Instead, advancing toward him with peculiar looking guns, was a group of soldiers. Behind them, a second group was dragging the downed Inhumans out on stretchers.

"Don't do anything stupid," one of them told him.

Gordon heard two pairs of footsteps come up behind him.

"Gordon," said a female voice.

He turned his head and saw Isabel, who was carrying a duffel bag, and Malcolm standing at his flanks.

"Get out of here," he told them.

"The three off you need to get on your knees," ordered the same soldier.

"You'd better back off," Malcolm yelled at them.

Gordon glared at him. "What're you doing!"

It was too late. Malcolm was already charging up his ergokinesis. As he charged forward he was shut down by whatever weapons the soldiers brandished, he dropped like a stone, and the weapons were quickly turned on Gordon and Isabel. Before they could be fired, Gordon dived at Isabel and teleported them both to the lounge.

Getting to their feet it took them seconds to realise that the assailants had already infiltrated Afterlife from another point and were gathering up the remainder of its residents who were all lying on the floor unconscious.

"Oh no," Gordon murmured.

"Hey!" a soldier yelled raising his gun.

Gordon grabbed Isabel's sleeve and teleported.

They appeared in the alley of a nearby village, one that Gordon had visited a few times before. He dusted himself off and paced agitatedly.

"How did this happen?" Gordon murmured to himself. "How did they find us?"

Isabel slung the duffel bag over her shoulder and looked at him.

"Did you get a chance to watch the news today?"

Gordon looked at her. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Well... It's just that Cyrus is with SHIELD at the moment,"

"What?"

"There was a fire and Cyrus was involved somehow,"

He ran a hand over his face. "Were you planning on telling me or is that what the duffel bag is for?"

Isabel looked at the bag. "I planned on going after him,"

"Yeah, well, not anymore," Gordon told her. "You just saw what happened to Afterlife, we need to go back,"

"And do what?" she asked. "There's no way we'd be able to do anything, it was an organised attack,"

"Then what do you suggest we do, because I don't have a clue,"

"Like I said, Cyrus was involved in an incident with SHIELD, he's the best option we have right now,"

"You just want to find him because he's two days late,"

Isabel nodded glumly. "I care about him,"

"I can tell," Gordon said. "But if this doesn't work..."

"They weren't killing anyone, were they?"

"No. But that doesn't make it any better," Gordon shook his head. "Why did they want us captured? And who the hell were they?"

Isabel had the same questions, but more pressing, she wanted to find Cyrus so she could scream at him for lying to her.

"Let's go find Cyrus," she said.