Iota #6
Volume 1. Story 5.
The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Part 1)
A tall and lean gentleman stepped casually along the brightly lit corridor, a strong smile formed upon his narrow head revealing a multitude of perfectly lined teeth. His cheeks curved in tightly to a sharp yet rounded off point which accepted the flapping of his bottom lip further exemplifying the boomerang like shape of his sneer which played as a vapid giggle reaching up his frail, thin body. His nose sprouted out from the centre of his slanted oval eyes like a needle while his pencil thin brown eyes brows hunched over their designated places easily blending in with the slight yellow glint that formed within the white yolk around the irises. His hands were deeply entrenched in the large side pockets of his light brown trench coat that stretched down to his knees thereby blocking the full view of his well strung black suit. He stepped around in his dark leather shoes, tight as they were bound tightly to the arches of his foot and toes and circled underneath the bulb of his ankle; they tread softly under the man's small weight, working his way along the clean white linoleum floor.
The lower portion of the long and straight hallway was of a pale green, near teal, while the design of the upper portion of the wall continued the tradition of the floors in having a pristine white appearance which seamlessly cornered into the ceiling where a set of evenly placed horizontally lain panels shined soft watts of light. Though the numerous solid steel doors along the walls at distancing metres were no doubt air locked and sealed, the place still had a heavy aroma of formaldehyde. Of the most striking detail of the lonely man walking down the hallway were the bandages that wrapped tightly around his head, straddling his forehead and then stretching back behind his head leaving very few spaces for his jet black hair to poke through. It had been a few weeks since he had survived the confrontation of a crow bar to the back of his head, but now with a certified bill of health that stated he was able enough to walk out on his own accord, Rotund was quite pleased to say that he had survived his hospital visit.
"I'll be keeping a steady eye on you from now on Rotund," a deep voice broke through to Rotund's consciousness just as he was pushing through one of the two heavy steel tinted doors at the end of the hallway. With the bleak grey door slightly cracked open, Rotund leaned his head forward to look for the source of the voice; a tall dark gentleman, muscular to say the least with a dead seriousness being conveyed in his dark brown eyes. The wide strength of his chest continued upward to his face, devoid of any hair or striking features, which had bulging cheek bones which circled outwards with its thick flesh before clasping down tightly to a squared off jaw. The man had a straight stone face with a heavy black brow that rose to sit upon rather large rectangular glasses that were tinted to the finest darkened hue it could reach. In a long navy blue jacket, black heavy boots and matching gloves, it was not difficult to ascertain the man's line of work.
"Yes detective," Rotund returned with a smile, stepping freely from the door on to the cement platform just outside the door. He analyzed the small four steps down before turning back to face the menacing detective whom stood completely still in front of the other steel door which had been untouched by the spineless criminal, seemingly staring outward, blankly into the distance, "I wouldn't have it any other way."
"Your friends can only spring you so many times," The detective curved his head slightly to his inner shoulder to take a good look at Rotund, an obvious glare of intimidation held behind the glasses, "at some point they'll have to start believing that it's just not worth the effort…and when that happens you can be certain I'll be right behind you."
Rotund took a heavy sniff up his needle nose, turning to the opposite direction as soon as he felt that their eyes had met producing an exceptionally awkward moment in time, "I know," he chattered lightly through his weakened jaw, "but that won't be today," he shook his head from side to side and look at the detective with his greedy tooth filled smile, eyes filled with contempt, "there's just too much work out there that this world needs from me." Rotund scrapped the palms of his hands against the side of his jacket, ruffling the wrinkles free as he proceeded to take the next couple of steps down the stairway, his chin raised in an arrogant manner upon stride away from the steps. It was not long till he was deep into the parking lot, keen on finding a long black vehicle that was awaiting him.
The detective, at least in so far he claimed, placed his palms over the front of his waist line as he gazed into the distance, watching as Rotund, that devious criminal, step into a running long sleek black car. He let out a long withdrawn breath as he watched the car distance itself into the corrupted world before he pulled his gloved hands up to his face, rubbing down on the skin surface with the tips of his fingers. Strangely, the thick coating of skin began to sag, deform and slip away from the defining skeletal structure; the eye lids and cheeks most especially sloshing down over the features that normally kept them in check. It was not long till the skin was reduced to a piece of rubber that possessed some pretty uniquely realistic features. A flick of the wrist and the mask slipped out from his fingers landing at the side of the stairwell where it simultaneously began to turn red and melt as though exposed to intense amount of heat. The real detective underneath the former guise hunched his shoulders, his face assuming an image that lacked eyes, a mouth, and only a small resemblance to where a nose should be. He was of much fairer skin which stretched throughout the entirety of his skull, "we'll see," a mysteriously deep echoing voice seemingly generated from him. He rose up his hand and placed upon the top of his head a blue coloured fedora; there were still some Questions that needed to be asked.
The next doors that Rotund shoved his small mass through were fortunately a lot easier for him, a simple push and both of the thin doors bent back on their bolt hinges, though what this set of doors led into was more of a meat packing house than that of that of the quaint hospital he had been staying in for some time in recovery. He was eager to be getting back to world of the conscious and held a fresh smile on his face along with the newest addition of a wide brimmed black hat to keep his head bandages from causing too much of a fuss when viewed. The room was wide and straight holding near to a square in its orientation. While there was a set of doors where he was now passing through, there was also to the adjacent wall a single door, much the same composition as the dual set; however it looked as though it was rarely opened. The lights were small bulbs encased in a cone like socket and dangled from the not nearly high enough ceiling. The floor was quite a chewed up piece of concrete and the walls were of an unappealing teal hue, but of such things proved to be irrelevant in light of the bigger picture which was at the centre of the room and as such immediately drew his attention. "Cameroon…" He stated with a jeer, throwing his hand hands out to the side with excitement upon seeing his old friend, "thanks for coming to my rescue my good friend," he palms slapped against his sides.
At the centre of the spacious room was a steel table, so broad that it required not just the traditional four pegs at every corner but also the attachment of additional pegs at the middle, the sides and the in-between all the tables at the centre. Several similarly designed chairs, though maintaining the simple four footed design, sat along all edges of the table, all empty save for one which was drawn near to the wall on Rotund's right side, opposing that of the wall with the single door. Sitting in it was a hulk mass of man, easily out classing Rotund physically in every way. Bald, clean shaven, strong brow with fluttering large oval eyes; all features that could be used to describe the man's serenely beautifully dark tanned face as it turned to face down the incoming Rotund. The cuff lines of his luxurious suit was crusted with a golden brim, his dark expensive fit jacket holding tightly to white pinstripes that ran vertically down his chest and abdomen, at the centre was a silky black tie which would assuredly glint of a radiant array of golden flakes regardless of what form of lighting was provided; he was most certainly a successful man in his line of business, more so now than what Rotund was. "Mr. Rotund," the deep long voice dribbled out from Cameroon's lips. He looked across at the approaching Rotund and nodded his head up and down, focussing his eyes on every facet of his body, "it such a pleasure to see that you're doing very well…" he turned away and rose his chin, tilting his head back, "physically for the moment anyway."
"And you're looking sharp," Rotund shook his head awkwardly around on the pivot of his neck as he came up close to the table and planted his hands on it upon reaching. His shoulders hunched over top of his head, "nice suit…" he said softly, gawking at the fine furnishings that encapsulated his old friend.
"You like?" Cameroon smiled a stainless tooth grin as he stretched his arms across the table, flexing his fingers into fists and back again at random intervals, watching as the fabric of the cuffs and sleeves stretched along his forearms, "I've got men and money now," his eyes fluctuated down from Rotund to his wrists where the gold shine entangled his perception, "power…feels like this is what I've been working up to ever since I started," he looked back up to Rotund with a cheeky smile, blowing a hot beam of steam from his nose, "playing in the big leagues now, just like I've always planned."
"You get the chip in the package I sent you?" Rotund snapped to his question.
"Most certainly," Cameroon relaxed his shoulders, drawing back his arms to cross over top of his chest and rest lightly on his lap.
"Excellent," Rotund concluded. He pressed hard against the table and rose back up to a full straight posture, "that kid Razzi snapped on us, guess that means that John Thermos was the defector…whoever he is," he dropped his head to his shoulder and looked to Cameroon for a reaction but the heavy man had his head knelt, focussed upon the steel sheen of the table, "he was the one whom ordered Razzi to collect the chip under the pretence of getting involved in the bigger picture…you've taken care of him right?" Cameroon continued to be of little action, "what was it doing at a freaking car garage anyway?"
"Apparently one of the makers discovered what it was going to be for," Cameroon started up after a heavy breath, "didn't like what the plan was entailing…so he hid it at his uncle's parking garage, of course it's apparently quite difficult to keep secrets from the Queen…."
"You don't seem too terrible amused by this victory," Rotund stepped back a bit and looked down unusually at his seated friend.
"I'm not," Cameroon spat out. He turned his head up slightly and looked over to Rotund, "a parking garage? You couldn't use your head till after you got it bashed in?" he rose up straight abruptly, cupping his fingers around the table ledge, "The chip was a dud," he boomed from the bottom of his lung capacity. Silence soon engulfed the room leading to an unusual intensity that left Rotund legs shaking lightly under pressure, "the whole story about the maker having second thoughts and storing it at his uncle's garage…it was all bogus, just a circle that the real chip holder put us all through."
"Ah," Rotund let out a disgruntled moan in dissatisfaction, turning sluggishly in a full circle, jacket fluttering in the rotation of wind that his movements created.
"It's a stupid story really," Cameroon continued, "I'm surprised our bosses jumped on to it…you should be thrilled your walking now, would suck to be killed by some kid for something that couldn't be used anyway…" he sniffed, "the Queen ordered some hits on some of our older friends," he scoffed but did a complete turn of emotions while he began tightening up his tie, "it was a bloody massacre but it brought me up to the top."
"What's going on?"
"If I was you, I'd be lying low," Cameroon turned to Rotund with an insistent stare, "this Queen character is very sharp when it comes to managing the resources available, if you know too much about them don't be expecting to be able to walk off again as a living man."
"I don't even know what the chip does," Rotund angrily spat back.
"Doesn't seem to matter," Cameroon stretched his sympathy, "Quiddity didn't know dick all about the supplies he was shipping across the country but the minute he walked off the job," he crushed his open palms together and rubbed them across one another in the opposite direction, feeling the burn in between, "they gutted him on the spot…course, no one saw anything…dude was just fried."
"I want back in," Rotund jutted in.
"Are you sure?" Cameroon sharply swivelled on his neck to look up at Rotund's eager glare as he planted his hands back onto the table top and hunched up his shoulders, spindly nosed aimed down, "cause I've been hearing some nasty things."
"The Queen?" Rotund stood back up, stretching his back out to full strength, "you got your conspiracy mill running again."
"Can't talk about this stuff in public," Cameroon glanced from side to side before returning his attention to his friend, "these voices, they be saying that the chip is used for something massively destructive, government black ops stuff…ransom right?" he waved out his right hand politely with an uneasy glare.
"Thought that what we'd be going for," Rotund played along.
"We was going to be given all this power with these new control weapons, much different than them nukes," Cameroon continued, "the underground was going to surface and take over and the governments were going to foot the bill…this was going to be really big," he shook his head up and down, all giddy like, "but they're not going to be doing that," his enthusiastic movements stopped suddenly. He shook his head from side to side, "this Queen character…the voices say that she's actually planning on using whatever it is that this chip does."
Rotund tipped his eyes to the ceiling and licked his lip, contemplating the information that had just been relayed to him, "can't be all that destructive then, can it?" he concluded in his nasally.
"I still don't know what it's all about," Cameroon clasped the sides of his body and rocked back and forth on his chair, "I was thinking all of this morning that maybe this story about the chip's creator having second thoughts has a grain of truth to it…."
"Whatever though right?" Rotund snapped back, "you've gotten all the power that you've dreamed of…what are you now, division champion in this region? If the Queen wanted you blinded from any truth, she certainly has succeeded…." He clenched his right hand to a fist and held it up to his chest, "just keep throwing power at the underlings and they'll keep lining up till everyone ahead had been killed and they're the first in line…I want to be the first in line this time, this is the best chance I got."
"Have you not heard a word that I've spoken?"
"It's just same old you spouting off rumours and myths," Rotund concluded, "you've been paranoid for years buddy…ten years ago we working for more mysterious people…I don't know if you remember but we were Two-Face's flackeys and we didn't even know about it till the man was back in Arkham…."
"This times a little different man," Cameroon appeared to try and calm himself down, "Don't you see that I'm in power now, like I really am this time," he gawked, "but that just means everyone ahead of me is dead or overly complacent in fear of death. This Queen person…they say she can get into your mind…that she can shape shift and become anyone…Anyone!" he reasserted.
"Now you've really hit the bottom there man," Rotund shot back, "we don't do no work for the super populations, someone in the upper ranks would have noticed by now and we would have dropped out long ago."
"How do we know she and her crew haven't just assumed their identities?"
"Well then why haven't you done anything then?" Rotund openly questioned with scepticism.
"I don't want to be the next one to die," Cameroon espoused out in certainty, "I just got up here…I'm going to have to just hope that we be holding this rock for ransom and not destroying the moment its ours."
"You're being over analytical, it's just superstitious nonsense that these low level thugs have been sprouting out for years, anything to make their boss sound bigger and badder than all the others," Rotund spoke in quickly, "this isn't like the first time that someone's gotten command of the underground and used it to threaten the world…this'll just be another passing period in history, but it's certainly not one that I'm going to be let out of…not this time," he let out a soft cough and pulled his hands together at his waist, "so what do I got to do to get my membership back?"
"Me along with the rest of the mid-class boys have been ordered to find the real chip," Cameroon calmly responded, "you get your hands on that chip," he glanced up to Rotund, "I'm certain they'll have some good things in store for you…but you do know what happens if you fail?" he returned to a deep pit of concern.
"Yeah man I get it," Rotund responded, "just got to find this John Thermos guy…but first man I've got some personal errands to run with the peeps whom sold me out, can you lend me up the supply?"
"Most definitely," Cameroon responded, "what you got planning in that broken head of yours?"
"Revenge…they just be a bunch of kids, but they should know better to be messing with me on a bad day."
"And be careful," Cameroon caught Rotund's eye at dead centre, "you may be my man on the field at the moment, but they'll be sending others out in storm to find this guy…watch your back," he grinned, "they all want to be in the Queen's good graces…be the first."
"You're going to have to focus a little more," Kyle's voice slipped out softly, tapping closely to a whisper.
"I'm trying!" Deryck shouted back in response before sharply dropping to a low grunt, "this ring just doesn't want to do it!" The teen was quite muscular and intelligible for his age; features of his being that were acquired through years of hard illicit activities for the not too legal minded. Prior to meeting Kyle, he had plans, maybe even dreams, that he would achieve quite the reputation in the criminal underworld as a strong man with a work ethic that made him an exceptional asset in any endeavour…but now he would have to suffice with a more stable reputation, a status that was quite the opposite of what he had hoped: that which was embodied in the role of a super hero. And it wasn't the cruelness of streets or the evil intentions of the people he had met that convinced him to pursue this end, but rather the bestowing of a ring, a Lantern ring no less, powered by a majestic emerald glow which in its pantheon and mythology had come into the possession of the Universe's brightest and strongest seekers of justice…so be it strange that this ring would reach out to him? Perhaps it's because he was special or more likely, as he had been inclined to thinking, it was because it held the status of a new breed of self-conscious thinking rings which when mixed with its overwhelming temperamental attitude sought out a likeminded person with whom to share its gifts; either way, the answer to the question was a mere side quest at the moment when taking into account the activities unfolding in the living room. Under Kyle heavy handed instructions, the teen with the lantern ring felt himself forced to work at the highest peak of his mental energies, aimed towards the green construct of light he was building ahead of him.
"You're just going to have to put a little more effort into it," Kyle's voice fluttered in once more but this time much more coarse and gruff than his previous statements; much more forced.
"Don't you not get me?" Deryck barked back, "this thing on my finger just doesn't want to do this anymore!" the fingers of his left hand began to tense up around the bulb end of the armrest while his right, that which possessed the ring flexed strongly into a fist that jittered lightly in the air, a frustrated wreck.
Deryck was sitting down in a cushioned single seating chair, the kind that blended between a classic four peg constructions and a couch. The four wooden foot high pegs in each corner carried upon it a box like set with springs held within by thick green fabric and robust cushioning. The arm rests on each side were rather hard with the flimsiest of the cushioning wrapping around the heavy wooden boards that comprised its top and though this would usually figure in as the most uncomfortable aspects of any chair, it was most certainly the chair's backing which terrorized him the most. The back of the seat was basically a vertical hanging board that was intentionally stitched improperly against the sides of the box portion of the seat so as to result in the bowing of the board outward, cradling his back like a horse saddle sitting on its side. It reached well beyond his head, two heads at the least, making it all the more difficult to find comfort for his throbbing neck which he had come to rely heavily upon for keeping his head up straight and focussed.
The spacious living room of the townhouse was rather quaint in its structural design but if the chair was anything to judge, it was not much to look at on the decorative angle. The floor was composed of heavy wood moulded into thin strips that extended throughout the cumbersome space. It was the primary room at the front of the house on the first floor with two broadly trimmed openings, one at the back leading into the kitchen area where the wooden panels broke off abruptly into soft white linoleum tiles while the other led into the central hallway that split the townhouse complex in half, the front of which being the primary doorway for the house. Unfortunate as it was, the chair that Deryck sat upon was not the only one of its kind in the room, four others were splattered through the room, two at the front of the room facing inwards towards the kitchen while the other two were against the adjacent walls, he of course was seated on the one closest to the kitchen entrance way. Further details were blurred into a darkened state; the large front window facing out towards the main street was rather tinted heavily near to black, all for the best in serving the Lantern's purposes. Despite the elapsing darkness, the room managed to stay adequately lit from the source of formed green energy which hovered in directly in front of the boy's eyes. His ring hand raised up from its resting position, tightly drawn into a fist further drawing the attention to the bulb circular ring which shot from it's a flat wide spread beam which fell upon a squared pieces of the contraption being formed giving it life. It was an engine of sorts, with three tubular pistons glancing off from one side of the major rectangular portion with a large cog wheel of sorts rotating on the opposing side. The strong glow made the boy's face seem pale, his spiky black hair falling flat on his forehead lacking any vibrant feeling; but these sickly features were minor abstractions to the deep burning eyes; their solid tear shaped state under narrowed lids conveying a deep concentration…but this was slowly stripping away into sporadic shots of anger. The cog was turning quite slowly, the pistons not at all, and the square central piece of the motor was beginning to lose its solid state revealing its inner workings, these small pieces which were breaking down into smaller and smaller components; ball bearings, tubes, bolts, and the like.
"Alright, I've had just about enough of this!" Deryck slapped his ring-less hand round the end of the armrest. Instantly the mental composition in front of him sputtered out, the cog falling from the axel it was already desperately trying to hold on to. First it degenerated in simple shapes, but these quickly lost their strenuous form, degrading down into lines which held for only a moment before finally dissipating into the air as though it had never existed in the first place. The wide angled beam retracted a sluggish pace back to the Lantern ring on Deryck's finger. He let out a grunt as he sunk further into the seat, his head falling nearly two thirds down the sizable chair backing. He let out a sizable grunt as he further entrenched his fingers against the ends of the armrests, pulling with the muscles along the length of his arm to bring himself up onto his feet.
The lights suddenly shot up above revealing the tall brooding figure that leaned up against the broad frame of the opening leading into the kitchen area. Kyle, a tall muscular man, crossed his arms firmly across his chest as he glared down at his young protégé whom had proceeded to angrily step around in a circle and mumbling to himself. The master lantern was quite aged since the time when he had first been given the ring; his face shared the wrinkles of the battles that had engulfed him while his once strong dark hair that ran short off his scalp had faded slightly giving sign to grey strands that noted his wisdom, but at the moment his experience was of little use. As such, he was finding it to be most difficulty in reaching for something to relate to with the storming Deryck, but maybe he feigned from finding something out of fear that he would find within the boy something personal, a youth in need of guidance he no longer felt strong enough to give, "you're over complicating your creation when you have time to think it through," he started, "and then resorting to simple of forms when you feel you don't have the time," he pushed his shoulder off the trim and stepped forward lightly to reach to Deryck. He found himself fond of the jumpsuit worn under his Lantern garb, particularly the collar piece that tightly grasped his neck; but beyond this, he had above the suit a nicely trimmed pair of pants that thickly gripped around his big dark boots. Not to be too beyond the brightness his Lantern was to inspire, the jumpsuit, pants and boots held the black shade making it appear even more so a service uniform than just the casual wear that he treated it as, "there's a bit of art and creativity in what we can do with the ring…you have to will the machine to work. Stop thinking of all the small bits that make its composition and let the ring focus on making it work."
"This ring doesn't want to do anything!" Deryck turned to face Kyle, tossing his hands out to his sides in some evident anger. He bit down his teeth and snarled at his acquired trainer and roommate, "I don't understand how this engine works and all this thing does is taunt me with its irritating mental incursions..." he slapped his hands against his chest, "I can't take it anymore…" he concluded in his disgruntled tone.
Kyle shook his head in dissatisfaction; "we have to keep working on the ring…" he continued in quite an odd calm voice, "now I'm sorry that the ring has bonded to you Deryck, but this ring is the future of the Corp and you're nowhere ready to start using it to its full potential, to support the purpose of what it was made for."
"What is that supposed to mean?" Deryck shot back, "that I'm just a meat suit that the ring needs? That you need? I'm a person Kyle, I've got some of my own problems that I've got to deal with and this ring hasn't made anything better for me." Deryck faced his back against the chair and plopped down into it, "I don't know how your friend was able to do it," he grunted deeply, "but I haven't exactly been able to get this ring to cooperate with me."
"It's alright," Kyle let out a sigh. His vision crossed to the ground, unable to look to Deryck, "there is plenty of time to refine your abilities as a wielder…before the call up to Oa is made," his hands crossed behind his back, fingers clasping the opposing forearms.
"I don't think I want to leave the planet now," Deryck sighed. He leaned forward from the chair and turned to face Kyle, "better send one of your guardians here and rip this thing off of me."
"Perhaps its best you stopped hanging out with your friends of yours," Kyle beckoned, maintaining his calm demeanour, "their kind of influence might not be something you need at the moment…."
"And who are you to judge whom I should spend time with?"
"Why can't you just make some civilian friends…?" Kyle gulped, "those two boys that you've been hanging out with, they were born into their roles and knew exactly what they were getting involved with since they were young. But you've sort of just jumped into it and look at the kind of situations you fallen into by hanging out with them."
"It's better than whom I was hanging out with before," Deryck jumped out from his chair and crossed towards the central hallway. His first quick strides slowed to a wobbled walk, silence passed for a few moments before Deryck could recuperate, "no…I'm sorry Kyle…I had to break into your League computer for a bit and posed as you," he stood within the squared arch of the opening, his backside facing Kyle, "I had the Manhunter keep tabs on a particular individual in my past life…before all of this," he turned chin to rest on his inner shoulder facing Kyle, "I've actually never met him, just that I knew what he would be doing when he…" he paused and swallowed down the fear in his voice, "he was released yesterday…" his head began to quiver, "I'm in a lot of trouble here and I have no idea what I'm supposed to be doing about it."
Kyle could only muster up a blank stare, "where are you going?" he asked sheepishly.
Deryck sighed, shaking his head as he turned towards the hallway to locate the exit door at the front of the house, "I have to go for a walk, clear my head…I've got an old friend whose in the same boat though I doubt he's got as good resources as I do. He might need my help."
Razzi spat out a blood laced gulp of saliva from his swollen puckered lips. Despite the excess volumes within his throat and the gurgling throughout the orifice of his mouth, he felt nonetheless coarse and dry, deprived of the alleviation of clean water that would have otherwise resulted in less pain when he attempt to expulse it and reach for some air. His face probably didn't fare much better but it was less painful to feel the hardened crusted substance of his blood that no doubt coated his often comparably pale skin. He was quite new to the ordeal he was in, a young man whom was just starting to stake his claim in the underground worlds that had formulated in the country's underbelly. But it was the final step, the one that would truly grant him some power in the markets already forged, that had led him to this place…still it beats the swift death that he was expecting.
"Hello Razzi," Rotund's voice slipped in its curving style. Razzi's beauty had been compromised; his lacy curly black hair was drenched with sweat and pulled back down along his neck wrapping there tightly, his jaw sagged open revealing the bitterness in his mouth where the teeth had been stained slightly to black. The sides of his face were partially bruised but thankfully it was more or less aesthetically pleasing in consideration of the prisoner's jumpsuit that he wore; the single piece eggplant purple cloth that was tightly trimmed at his waist line but branched out significantly around the ends of the short sleeves and pant bottoms. The painted name on the right side of his chest revealed him to be a prisoner in the custody of the 'Hub City Correctional Facility', but perhaps it would be more proper to say he is an ex-member of that group now, though it was not like he did any significant time there. He was just waiting there for word on Rotund's survival; he being the one who took the crowbar to the man's head…he evidently survived. Though most would consider it unfortunate if Rotund died, since one would then expect to spend close to life in captivity, it was the pounding that he was taking in the current moment of his life that convinced him that what Rotund would do to him and his accomplices, if they could be called so now, would be a lot worse than staring at life through bars, "thought maybe that I wouldn't get at you in county?" Rotund's pride teetered in on his voice, "I have a lot of connections."
Razzi's head rose up painfully from its slumped position, wobbling as it did from side to side slightly with the moans he continued to annunciate as pain. His eyes were recognizably bloodshot, coursed with sleep deprivation, a result of the brutal reality that results from the existence that he had chosen. It was welcoming to the see the world without the addition of bars but the sight of Rotund leaning down to look him in the face made the experience less desirable than what he had remembered. He was sitting on a steel chair, a simple platform suspended by four pegs with a narrow rectangular back piece that craddled the cusps of his shoulders held in place by the extensions of the back pegs upwards. A quick glance around his surroundings and he deduced himself to be within some sort of storage place save for missing the storage that it was built to carry. No doubt, he was in the much darker regions of the city and buildings such as this, the size of decent football field, were far and widely available for such purposes as torture. Several lamps decked along the squared tops of the large metal structure, not having reached full power, the humming lamps provided a damp mysterious atmosphere that was further blurred in light of the blood and sweat that was oozing on his brow and desperately clawing at his eye socket.
"But I'm wouldn't be surprised if you already knew that…" Rotund continued. The man, the tormentor, was surrounded by several men, all decked in their darkened clothing and robust jackets, arms flexed somewhat across their bodies as they stared down at the tortured boy. Razzi was slowly remembering what had brought him here. After two weeks in the often solitary lockup, he was called up by his designated court lawyer to review his case upon learning of Rotund's survival of the near life threatening injury; however, as he was being transported to meet the lawyer he felt a hard rock like item cross him at the back of the head. The accompanying guard must have been involved with Rotund's crew, hit him on the blind side in a place that one would have expected, "you know I thought that maybe you'd go pretty far in the business if you stuck to it," Rotund spat out in his cheery matter. He rose up and patted his long jacket down against his body, the hat still firmly in place blocking view of the damage Razzi had inflicted, "but not you've really pissed me off…and it's not just because you almost killed me." Razzi's head dropped down to his lap once more, deciding it best to listen to Rotund's voice and casually watch his footsteps against the cement ground, "of course you know the people that I know, and the kind of person I am…you've defected from the order!" he shouted angrily, "and yeah, we know of the guy who hired you, John Thermos…the questions are how do you? And what did he offer you?"
"You can't be serious…" Razzi's voice dripped out with a cough, "man, it's the chip-"
"Don't flatter yourself with any knowledge you think you possess, I know that you don't know what the chip was for cause neither do I," Rotund continued in a snarl, "but I thought you should know that the chip I ended up collecting was a crummy dud. Its unusable to my bosses…Razzi, you listening to me," Rotund leaned over Razzi and clawed his fingers into the back of his head, pulling up on the loose strands of hair to bring up his chin, "it was a stupid story that we all got caught up in believing and now here we are functioning on the outside with no way in," he let go and straightened up, towering over the slumping Razzi, "so I've been thinking that I'll just go to the source of the story this time, no more second hand information from fools. My real curiosity is on why your new boss wants the chip in the first place…but I'm going to let that slide for the time being."
"What do you want?" Razzi's weak tone panned out.
"It would appear that we were both double crossed…well, you so more than anyone else," Rotund continued in a cheeky pattern.
"You killed…" Razzi swallowed deeply while shaking his head awkwardly, mustering up enough strength to look up to the towering Rotund, "that tubby kid, whatever his name was," he concluded in a mocking tone, noticing that such an accusation did nothing to further his release.
"Yes," Rotund smiled with affirmation, "but that leaves us with two open ends, your friends….one of them called the cops on us, don't suppose you know who it was?" Razzi dropped his head, "didn't think so…doesn't matter really I guess, I was going to break both of them anyway…consider it your last request. You got me some names?"
"Oh yeah," Razzi attempted to break a smile but started convulsing into unmanageable coughs.
"Excellent…" Rotund jeered, "have to say I've never had respect for a man who turned in his friends so quickly but I sure do love exploiting them," he stressed out. "But…I am nonetheless a man bound by honour to my fellow criminal…there just has to be something for us all to work by without stepping on one another," he turned to a more serious tone, "that's why I'm going to give you a second chance here Razzi, to show that we can still be friends."
"Kill?"
"No, I'm not going to kill you…given that you comply to some of my necessary conditions," Rotund dropped to a knee in front of the chair and looked up at Razzi's hung head, glaring at him with a haphazard grin, "don't fret yourself with your friends, I'll have my men take care of them…but you see there's still the thing about this chip and I know that you know," he pointed at him, "someone who would know a thing or two about it."
"I've never met Thermos," Razzi shook his head rapidly from side to side.
"Well I'm certain you'll find a way for first contact," Rotund reaffirmed, "your life is on the line now."
Deryck was lit up into his Iota uniform, shining up in the complete emerald shield of energy. It was a quick transition from walking to flight, easy now for him and nearing upon second nature; this of which Deryck became consciously aware of as he hovered high above the town complexes that he had come to live in, though unlike the ring, he was not very community conscious. "I know…buts it's just strange," Deryck muttered to himself, the ring fist having been brought up to his face for a close analysis. He flew through the air at a curvature on his side, legs trailing just a bit lower in behind.
Iota's suit was somewhat consistent with the regular Lantern wear; hard block like green boots that carried up the full portion of his shins, similar armour like gloves braking off as flattened spikes on his elbows while allowing his fingers freedom. Upon his chest sat the lantern logo he had pulled from his mind: two point inverted white triangles that sat within a green hexagonal outline. This design was also applied to the side of his shoulders in the form of small centimetre high blocks. To top off his costume was the most distinctive of his attributes; an angular mask where by four squared pieces curved into points reached out along both cheek sides with subsequent opposing ends topping up on his temples. The conception of the suit became an imprint in his mind and was quite easily generated upon his mental command; as it was, he felt confident enough in it that as long as he possessed the ring then the suit was never going to change.
"Why do you have to keep talking to me?" Deryck whispered lightly, continuing the conversation building in his head, "I can't talk to Kyle about this…" he grew to a shout, "I've got like four different people in my head at the moment and you're the most temperamental one of them all! I can't even dream anymore without you…" his voice trailed off, the evident thoughts in his head being conveyed in his flight path which came to an abrupt stop jittering his body vertical in the air. Looking down slightly he found himself above the triangular bent rooftops of the quaint townhouse below; however, his eyes kept slipping away from the black tar and steel tops to the ring in his possession which seemingly grew in intensity the longer he stared at it, "He deserves what he's getting…" he took a heavy gulp, allowing some time for silence as he engaged the words of the ring as they became emblazoned on his mind, "I know…" he shook his head lightly, "I just can't believe he did that to me…he turned on us, called the cops…I could be in prison right now because of him…No!" he slapped his left hand to his face, wincing his eyes in the momentary pain, "No!" he shouted once more tensing up the organic wiring of his arms.
Iota lowered his head down and allowed for his flight plan to continue as planned, "you're supposed to help me take care of that sleaze ball who killed Gary and Kindred Emma at the fairgrounds ," the long rows of town houses and apartment complexes below quickly became much too dizzying for the teen lantern to comprehend as he flew past them at a blistering speed but he did not fear of losing his direction for the ring knew exactly where they were going and there was nothing in his will power to prevent it, "I don't have time for this. He deserves-" he closed his eyes and coughed lightly, scoffing the notions that the ring placed in his head, "I know your right…but why choose me if you're so bent towards justice? Do you have any idea what this person is like, the one you want me to save? Do you not understand who I am?" The speed at which he was travelling was coming to a much slower pace, enough now for him to take a look upon the rooftops of the distant townhouse complexes, "alright, I'll do this…" his voice slurred off as the flight came to a sudden stop.
Iota hovered slightly above a familiar looking building, a four story structure that was quite reminiscent of the building Kyle had found for them save for the fact that this one was adequately been distanced from the familiar surrounding buildings. Like the front of their building, this one had two separate square patches of grass that sat upon the concrete barrier blocks that ran along like wall against the clean bleached sidewalk. The trimming white fence that rode around the field tops had squared off ends, much unlike the black and arrow pointed tops of his own fence which enforced a rather prison like feeling; this was almost nice looking to him. The hard plastic brick overlay was crisp and red, totally unlike the overlay of crumpled purple like appearance he had grown accustomed to. His eyes slowly traced up the several steps leading up to the platform where a heavy blue door sat unhinged; quite unusual for such a door to be hanging open like it did…something was wrong.
Iota was struck with a look of grimace and felt an empty pit of hunger develop in his stomach as he allowed himself to hovering down to the earth below. He dropped down to the top platform, avoiding the stairwell behind him, his feet making a strong tapping sound when the emerald glow dropped from surrounding his being. He raised his right hand, lowered his back a little and pressed against the door under the force of his moving steps; the breaths within him sought manual regulation as he felt himself affected by the strangely familiar appearance of the inner workings of the townhouse. The long strips of wooden boards that composed the floor of the central hallway and the living room to his left was of a much lighter tonal value that the floor of his new home, the walls in a similar manner held to a very pale blue while the large pane of glass at the front being at a perfect angle to accept the rays of sun light aimed towards it. Additionally the place was much more beautifully decorated with a series of white plush couches in a square formation around the room with a various assortment of pictures depicting families and close friends, some of which containing a particular person whom he recognized instantly. Every step of his heavy encased boot filled his ear with a strong tap, his head aimed towards the living room as the large entrance way passed by; something was definitely not right. The easy movements of his boots in conflict against the floor boards came to an abrupt stop; he felt his feet soaking deeply in to a sticky substance that no doubt engulfed its sides quite tightly. He let out a sigh and looked down to his feet; blood in its long dripping pool had crept around him and was now beginning to stretch out and spill outside its initial build.
"We were too late," Iota stated under a hushed tone. He continued to step forward down the hallway towards the kitchen area at the end, moving beyond the entrance way into the living room with a somewhat disgusting hope that there would only be the lifeless bodies of once living people around the corner but that hope was quickly lost. "what the?" he questioned out, eyes avoiding the direct images of three bodies lying dead on the ground, one of them more certainly just a young boy. Of more emergent interest were the three men that stood upon the blood soaked white floors of the kitchen area, carefully avoiding the hard countertops, the table that ran lengthwise in the back, and other such things where their genetic information might stick to.
The men were considerably bulky, wide shoulder lengths and coarse leather like fingers that came from their constant use in their field of killing. For the most part their uniforms consisted of a somewhat similar formation with boots, pants and jackets all of which were made of thick and robust materials that assured their repeated use but maintained to a black shade for reasons of anonymity. With faces of stone which harboured unremarkable features, the teen lantern assured himself that there would be no regret if he was to bash their heads in now.
Iota watched uncontrollably as the strong figure nearest too him leaned into stride pulling up a fist that went full on into the teen Lantern's chest snapping loudly in its connection. He watched somewhat surprised by the appearance of the man shaking his wobbly hand as he awkwardly stepped backward and away, pulling further back towards the table in the back area to stand on par with his colleagues. The ring had instinctively reacted to the fear that shot down through Iota's body like a shiver, engulfing the young man's body in its illustrious emerald shielding. He curved his elbows, pulling his fingers into fists and reflected upon them with a happy grin but this moment of thrill sharply dropped when in the corner of his eyes he made contact with a set of sightless blue eye along with a smooth hand with delicate fingers lying flat on the ground and various other parts he refused to recognize soaking in their blood. The powering up of the ring around his body only further fuelled the resentment he had for hesitating to come here soon. Anger seeped into his mind as he looked upon the trio of foes, plotting out how he would defeat each one of them, breaking their will at first and then crushing their bones into pulp.
The one at the centre of the trio pulled up a weapon, a bulky silver coated pistol of sorts with a strong square opening, drawing it up to his shoulder level and aiming down the small barrel at the Lantern. A spurt of three red tanned energy shots burst from the pistols opening, slicing through the air like aerodynamic disks that smashed Iota's shield spattering into broken pieces that were quickly absorbed having no effect. Iota took a step forward with intent, sizing up the men, and prepared to ruin the men's operations further. His right fist quickly rose up to shoulder level and aimed towards the three men whom all stared at it with a startling surprise when it just ask quickly tooled a mirror image of the gun drawn upon him, formed up in its green substance which simultaneously brought forth a similarly spurt of three inch high round bullets that burst towards the gun wielding man, panning upward from the man's pistol holding hand, crossing to the centre of his chest and finally tapping upon his shoulder. The quick and startling hits resulted in an instantaneous drop of the real gun to the ground which was almost as quickly followed by the dropping the man's sore body, the fabric of where the bullets hit being frayed significantly outwards from his chest, but he would quite fortunately survive the superficial wounds. Iota pulled down to take a look at the gun at that moment realizing that he had no idea how it functioned, at least not that of the real one, only that through his receptive vision of the gun in play and the advent of the rings energy, he was able to make the construct useful and effective in its light based format. The foolish man whom attempted to punch him at first decided to make another direct approach by landing a heavy kick upon his chest immediately breaking his concentration away from the constructed pistol which dissipated into nothingness. But as was to be expected, the kick had very little effect on the teen lantern outside of that mental loss which only served to bring his attention to the source of the kick.
Iota lunged forward and grasped his fingers around the man's lapels and pulled him up close with a snarl directly in his face. Using the backing of the rings strength as his own, He pushed hard against the man's chest and watched as the man who was at least twice his weight nearly fly back towards the end of the kitchen area, raising a good distance above the wooden rectangular dining table to smash up against the blue wall with a crack of bone and construction materials. He stared down the other two gang members, the healthiest of them reaching down to help his broken down comrade and break away from the ensuing fight to get to the nearby living room and assumingly move towards the front door for escape.
Broken in a heap, but not quite ready to call it quits on his will, the fallen murder braced himself up on to his four limbs all while coughing up blood. He attempted to regain focus on his sour condition, questioning what had brought him there. He rose his head up as best as he could and watched as his two colleagues made their run across his field of vision and into the living room, one carrying the other's arm over his shoulders thereby abandoning him to the hero's wrath. Fortunately the wellbeing of the man's life was secured when the young hero was distracted by a familiar voice, taking away his concentration to an entity that had made their way through the hallway. With the distraction in place, the blood addled criminal darted towards the living room, leaping and skipping as best he could to make his own escape.
Iota head turned sharply to look down the hallway he had been walking down moments before where he came to recognize a familiar figure. The sound of an slamming door and the bustling of people through it became mere background vices to the boy's concentration upon the engaging encounter for this was his former friend, the one whom he had come to warn of the possibility of violent reprisal for his betrayal, to prevent what had already happened and could not be taken back. The boy was not much older than Deryck was outside of his Iota persona, resembling a similar height and build but nonetheless with certain facial characteristics, such a blonde hair, blue eyes and fair skin, standing to contrast him; he was much brighter a person than Deryck ever was and so much smarter too with the slight exception being the choice made that had brought about the deaths of his family. "I'm so sorry Athis," Iota mumbled out through a heavy breath. His chin dropped down to his chest in shame and emotional exhaustion.
"What have you done?" Athis voice went shrill as he pounded forward, his right foot gripping into the blood displaced floor resulting in an insidious dive to reach out to Iota with his fingers ready to clasp the Lantern's neck. Iota, able to maintain a level headed position, ripped up his arms to block off the assault upon him, grabbing him slightly on his shoulders allowing his former friend to come up close. Athis continued to pant at an extraordinary rate as he stared at Iota unsightly clean eye slots; he seemingly cared not to stare at the bodies of the lost family, channelling himself to work towards the ruin of the perpetrator, grief meant to be explored later. "What have you…" he went down to confrontation mode once more but cut himself off, "You!" a heavy breath expulsed. He shot away his arms from the grasp that Iota had upon him and reviled at the fellow criminal's sight, "a Lantern?" he questioned through heavy breaths.
"Kyle," Iota's head shot down before returning to Athis with his own brand of shock, "They were looking for you…I don't have time to explain," he stuttered through with a dissatisfied shake. He started up a stride towards the hallway pressing Athis against the wall as he passed by. He came to a stop when he was on par and spoke up sympathetically, "I'm sorry," Iota continued, looking towards his former friend, "I really am." He felt the moisture around his eyes begin to seep out from under his mask just as he was getting closer towards the door. A quick glance backwards towards Athis showed the boy to be at the very least in shock, unmoving with a jarring glare in his direction as he sought exit from this now inhospitable home; Athis was unable to cry nor unwilling to break down into the pool of despair that he was certain he would have fallen into if given the same circumstances. Just outside the front door, he took to the power of flight reaching rapidly towards the clear skies intent on returning to his current home. Since Athis was found and his family killed, then it only stands to reason that they've probably located his base of residents and the only person that could be construed as family at the moment is Kyle; someone tough would be knocking upon their door pretty soon, driven by murder to reach to him and make him suffer for the crime of betrayal that he never committed. Athis, the true backstabber, had been punished, but he was nonetheless meant to suffer the consequences. He sighed in relief however, "those creeps are going to be in some serious trouble when they come against Kyle."
Kyle treaded softly along the living room floor, walking towards the central hallway to reach the front door which had been inflicted with a few taps of force, a knocking which had gathered his attention. Once more the tapping returned to the door at a much quicker pace this time round bringing upon Kyle some minor frustration which manifested itself as a shot of pent up steam from his nostrils. Just as his hand connected with the ball handle of the door and twisted, the force behind the knocking began once more but this time at a much more constant rate as a push. Kyle snapped back on his feet, keeping his paces backwards close by as he reached back his arm to grab the topping ball on the first post of the stairwell leading up to the rooms. His eyes focussed upon the opening as it came to be filled with three persons of interest though not for any distinguishable feature but rather for their conventional beings; strong, muscular, tough wearing clothing in a desperate black, chiselled stone facial aspects that failed to be anything else but conveying the lack of emotion behind their hideous jobs. The Corps and long held League training knocked Kyle head into place, immediately attracting his focus to the more crucial details of the three menacing figures, that one was armed with a black rod of sorts that possessed at one end a small blue box which accounted for its taser like abilities, another had thick inch gold bands around his knuckles which flexed vibrantly as they hung lightly by his thighs, and finally the man at the centre kept calm while holding in his right hand a single laser pistol which he had brought up to aim at Kyle.
Kyle examined each of them with a foreboding smile, believing that this was going to be quite the house visit, especially if he did not react to fast, "I think it's only fair to warn you," he started up in a serious tone as he prepared his feet in a fighter stance, working his way to the centre of the hallway, "I was trained to fight by the original Batman…this isn't going to end too well for any of you," he concluded with an elegant flare of arrogance.
Just as the centre man was prepare to fire up his pistol; a swift kick upward of Kyle's right foot compelled the man to raise the gun much too far, its end coming to aim at the ceiling. On the returning stomp down, Kyle hammered his foot deep into the man's shin scrapping along the fabric and no doubt scaring the newly torn skin underneath; a jab of his elbow to the man's cradle of skin underneath the rib cage took away his ability to breath and scream in pain as he felt the push backwards out of the door frame and towards the hard cement of the steps. Of course, it didn't take to long for his colleagues to work up on their reactions not that any violent movements were to be of much of a concern for Kyle; when the metal fisted man took his jab at the master lantern, he merely manoeuvred his body on a curved angle dodging the punch while simultaneously working his hands around the man's forearms and clasping tight enough around it to imbed a red imprint of his fingers. Kyle placed his foot against the inner wall around the door and pushed hard against it at such a speed that the man being pulled was not quite prepared for the movements that such an action would force upon his body; his head suddenly clipped against the outer metal frame of the door and when Kyle let go of him, he fell down to his knees on the porch and reached his hands to this throbbing forehead. Just as this occurred, the third adversary in the group took up his cattle prod towards Kyle's side, ramming up tightly into the space beneath his arm but most fortunate for the Kyle, the lantern ring of his had already taken effect and he now simple stood there unamused by the shocked expressions of the understandably confused man whom watched as the lightning shocking around Kyle's body was simple bouncing off a circular patch of the appearing emerald shield. Kyle, not to be to mean to the little grunts, even rose his arm to give the man some room to examine the ineffective work of the electrical prodding device but this type of generosity could only hold for so long, that when the thug reached his head up to face down the Kyle's disgruntled stare the master lantern reached down with his strong arms knocking away the prod and grabbing the man squarely on the shoulders. With the nimble twisting of his feet, Kyle pulled the man inside the house, placing a solid grip on his shoulders as he twisted him around the inner space behind the front door. When he had felt that the circular movement had reached its terminal velocity, he let his grasp slip and the man found himself catapulted towards the inner trim of the opening into the living room, head knocking up and crunching the man's poor spinal column. Kyle smiled a little as he stood over his fallen foe; he clasped his hands to his waist and filled himself with pride being quite happy to use his hands in combat once more rather than to completely rely upon the power the ring provided him with.
The sparkling of contrary energy forms connected into one another at Kyle's backside; he had been shot with something, a burst of three energy shots which had thankfully been deflected off his back with the strength of his emerald shield. He cracked his head from side to side and let out a sigh, turning around abruptly to take a look upon the perpetrator of the shots fired. The pistol wielding would be murder was sitting awkwardly on the outside porch area, his back nearly touching the ground with his free hand sprawled out to the far side and his knees bent at angles for balance to get up in a form that would allow him to fire upon the entity that puzzled him. Kyle analyzed the poor man's wide eyes and jittering lips, "drop it!" he shouted as he approached towards the door opening, "this was going to be fun…and now you've just ruined it."
Iota fluttered in from above, noticing some very strange similarities to what he had encountered when he had ventured to Athis's family home; though he was responsibly ambivalent now to the arrow tipped prongs that comprised the field surrounding fence, taking the feelings that they conjured if only to avoid the fate that had befallen the family he had just saw; though from what he knew of Kyle's will, such an outcome was impossible. It frightened him somewhat however when he recognized the solid brownish door of his and Kyle's townhouse was slightly ajar just like that of the one at Athis's townhouse. A quick glance in either direction of the street revealed only the absence of peering eyes, a quiet time when twilight was on the verge of eclipsing this part of the world, all the more perfect for him to maintain his Iota persona as he approached the door and pressed it open to take a look inside and hopefully avoid the painful reality that may have been.
"So how was your walk?" Kyle questioned from his seated position. He was on the far side corner of the living room on the inner right side where Iota crossed to encounter him, just sitting there on the top of the box piece of the chair, the backing having been broken off under some unknown force. He leaned forward casually, placing his elbows on his knees and looking up at Iota as he stepped forward and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Kyle's smile, "I think I've encountered some friends of yours…personal problems hitting home?" his hands broke off from bracing his chin as he straightened his back, letting them roam comfortably to his kneecaps.
Iota stopped with his side facing Kyle. He looked around the room and saw the scratched up flooring, the charred paint from the walls and of course the rather mixed opinions over the collapsed chairs which had been tarnished save for one. He kicked his foot against the wooden chair backing from the piece that Kyle now sat on and watched it roam along the ground towards the back wall, "they were coming after me," Deryck conferred.
"Not exactly the most qualified thugs to send to take on a Lantern," Kyle sighed, "one of them tried to shoot me," Kyle took a tone of disgust, "course that didn't work out so well and after I really beat the snot out of one of them they carted themselves off to lick their wounds elsewhere."
"Yeah, well," Iota flexed his toes against the ground, looking at them as he did, "too bad there wasn't a lantern at my friend's house like there was one here."
"Where did you go?" Kyle questioned in a bewildered state. A silent span of seconds passed which showed Iota to be less than willing to converse, "OK…what happened?" the tone had changed down to a more calm and contemplative type.
"I just got back from an old friend of mine's place…" Iota spoke coldly, keeping his head aimed straight ahead and away from Kyle as he slowly took a seat on the floor, "these dregs…I was too late to save them."
"I'm sorry to hear that," Kyle sympathetically responded.
"No…I am, I really am," Iota continued, "I was just really hesitant in the first place, spent most of the time in flight trying to battle this ring," he looked intently upon the illustrious glow that had engulfed his fist, "I think you're right Kyle…I don't deserve this ring, I'm just not good enough- I'm too young."
"I never said anything like that," Kyle quickly shot back in rebuttal to the notion.
"Didn't you?" Iota swiftly glanced to Kyle then sent his head back to its slump position over top of his ring fist, "with the way you've been pushing me, how can I not think that? I know you don't really trust me, you need someone with a stronger will power or something…" he looked up at Kyle with flinching eyes, a voice of uncertainty, "I think the sooner we find a way to get this ring off the better…it just shouldn't be on me," he shook his head from side to side.
"That's not what I think at all," Kyle crossed his arms and leaned his back up against the wall, "I've been thinking about what you said since you've left, and I have been treating you rather harshly…" he stammered out before being able to take a more compassionate tone, "I haven't been home for a long time, not on Earth…but I'm having difficulty admitting to any psychological problems that I've taken upon my shoulders while in the Corp. I've seen space, new planets, met interesting people and made friends…and it was all beautiful," he slumped down, holding his hands to his chin to brace his collapsing emotional state, "but then I saw those friends die in front of me, those interesting people become engulfed in wars that destroyed whole planets and scorched entire solar systems…I've even witnessed the collapsing of space and time on several occasions…" he shook his head, dropping his hands, "I just couldn't take it anymore…."
Iota looked up to Kyle, looking upon his mentor's cold glare as the whites of his eyes slowly turned red on the underline, "Narog was a good friend of mine," Kyle continued, "he was quite the able fighter, pulled me out of a few binds, he was the most emotionally stable of any person I had ever met…so who better to have that ring you're wearing now; then there we were thinking that hey, I'm in research and development now…all those wars and lost friends were in the past," he paused to take a heavy gulp of air, contemplating his past, "but that never went away, it just kept coming back and before you know it…Narog was dead too." He let a moment of silence pass before reaching his conclusions, "I hadn't realized it at the time I guess, but I think Narog was so stable because of the cold existence this life as a Lantern created…" he turned to a whisper, "is that happening to me too?"
"Yeah," Iota chimed in with a whisper, he too reminiscing over the events of that brought him into possession of the ring.
"No Deryck," Kyle continued, "I think I've been treating you like this because I don't want to be going through all of that stuff again…especially with someone like you. You're so young, like me when I first got my ring." He paused, "I've just kind of found it better that I stop caring. I'm home now and I don't want to care about anyone else at the moment, I just want to be alone and live out the rest of my days in peace."
"Yeah," Iota hushed out once more, "I didn't mean to bring this all upon you…."
"I know," Kyle concluded, "I'm just really concerned is all…but I understand what you're going through, I really do and I'm going to make that last sacrifice…we can make this work."
"Can we?"
"Yes," Kyle stated sharply, "from what I've seen from you so far, I think you'll make quite the lantern," Iota raised his head and looked straight to Kyle, "I really do."
"Alright Kyle," Iota began to nod in affirmation.
"But first," Kyle turned to a more casual discussion voice, "I think you're going to have to be a little more open with me here…what's going on?" he waved out his arms to signify the mess that had been well established in the room, "who were those guys?" His voice, while impressionably different than the filling of remorse in his earlier words, was noticeably less than enthusiastic for an answer which functionally offset Iota's inner gut feeling on providing, "I've read the police file on you that the Question gathered, you've got quite an outstanding record, though I suspect that all those unrecorded activates before finding you at the fair ground are a little more than just outside the occasional store robbery and vandalism."
"I got in contact with an old friend," Deryck started, "Athis and I…we thought it might be time to take a jump up the criminal ladder, actually do something that might give us some credit out there…foolish notion I know but I'd like to believe that that was where my life was headed so there was no reason to fight against it. We were told that we were hitting a rival gang leader's garage," he accentuated strongly on every word of his last sentence, "that we were a part of some team sending a message to a contested mob boss to stand down," he started shaking his head and lowered his voice to a dribble, "but we were lied to by our leader Razzi…but that wasn't so much of a problem cause when Razzi went to go do what he was actually set to do, there was someone there waiting for him and they fought it out. Razzi nearly killed him, but uh…he survived."
"Who?"
"I don't know," Deryck snapped back looking up to Kyle, "I had never heard of the guy till I visited Razzi at the prison…Rotund. And yeah, I think we really got messed up this time cause he wasn't no low level crook like Razzi was, this guy had a lot of resources and worked up a lot higher on the chain. But none of that seemed to bother Athis, see he didn't grow up in the same kind of environment that I did…he was really clean with a family and everything but like he told me, he just got bored one day and did all this stuff I was doing and we had done it for some time, believe me…but for whatever reason he just wanted to get out quickly, but he certainly didn't tell me anything about it."
"What did he do?" Kyle leaned in forward, finally intently interested in the developing story.
"He had the cops called on us," Deryck muttered out quickly, "he knew that there was something more going on that night than just boosting some classic vehicles, knew that we were being lied to…said he was finally going to do something good for a change."
"You don't sound very convince by that…." Kyle interrupted.
"I'm not," Deryck stared blankly into space, "a boy like myself living day-to-day in a middle family, that don't cut to clean with me. When I first met him, he was building high-grade pipe bombs and regularly planned daring robbery of pretty much every place we went to, when he met me he finally had that outlet that he could work out from. He was smart, probably would have had a great future had he gotten some help…most certainly would have been better if he never met me, maybe he really did want to go straight, doesn't matter…this is all my fault."
"What is?"
"Those dregs that attacked you, I think they were Rotund's," Deryck continued, "they were going to kill you to get to me just like they had done to Athis's family. I think he wants to make an example of us…but we're just kids, I can't believe it. I just can't get the picture of his face out of my head; the moment he realized what had happened, that I think he recognized me."
"What?" Kyle sparked up with a shocked expression, "he recognized you?" The answer to that question however would have to wait since the loud twang of the heavy solid door of their town house smashed up upon the wall that it opened into nearly breaking its simple hinges.
"Deryck?" a shrill voice called out. Iota suddenly rose up to his feet upon recognition of the voice as it became evident from the heavy footsteps that the figure was growing closer to his direct behind, "Deryck? Oh, I am so glad I found you alive…wait-" the voice dripped off upon the recognition of his former ally in full lantern regalia.
A tall person stood in the entrance way to the living room, with greasy black hair that looped and curled behind his ears and stretched in behind his neck, his face bruised to blue along with the strands of blood from cuts having dried into unbreakable crusts, while the purple hue of his jumpsuit instantly revealed where he was from though much of which was covered by a long brown jacket that reached down to his thighs. His hands shook lightly, covered as they were in much needed bandages that seemed soaked with the various bodily fluids that resulted from being tortured, "Man, I could really use your help…" his weak voice trailed off, evident tears dropping out of his eye sockets as he came to see and recognize his salvation.
Deryck looked upon him with a sympathetic glare, "Razzi?"
"Athis?"
"Yeah, that's me…" Athis, the tall fair blonde young man stepped across the loose gravel lot, decked now in a darkened black jacket over top of the evidently white lining of a one piece suit that crawled around the entirety of his neck, "so you got my message?" In one of his hands he held a circular head shaped object, a helmet with a white trim above the brown and circular black.
"Well, we're here aren't we?" a cheery voice responded swiftly. The source was an unusually vibrant man in his officer's uniform, a straight black suit with the only different additions being that of the white squared shoulder pieces that were applied as a plastic like tone upon the jacket he wore and closed off at his shoulder blade. His face was quite pristine with the sharp blue eyes and short black hair, unaffected by any scars of his service; no doubt more a pencil pusher than what thoughts are conjured when thinks about the role an officer plays. "But hey, just be sure not to go around telling the office that I be handing out free tours like this." The two of them stood just outside of large aircraft hangar like setup, stretching out significantly to fill out a large portion of the grounds that it was built upon. It possessed on its top a series of wide circular arches that ran and connected with one another over top of the large square warehouse and was composed of a furnished metallic alloy painted a coarse black; a necessity for most police structures. They were in an area way outside the main city limits for the majority of the landscape was rather robust in its environmental elements with the cityscape not being too well viewable through the marbled hills. "Guess I could say that I really like your mother, and well look what you've done for the force already…who better to tap into the criminal underbelly of the youths than another youth."
"Just figured I should be doing my part to keep the community safe," Athis responded with a cold demeanour. He watched the officer with an impatient tapping foot, tired as he was on waiting for the man to provide his security key and pass code into the grey pin pad that slid out of the building side at an angle just behind the obvious door openings.
"Didn't know you had such an interest in electronics," the officer continued in his cheery tone, "the stuff we've collected from all those costumed freaks has earned them their own section…" he tapped the pad once more which immediately led into a loud whirling of tensor cords that appeared to be emanating on the other side of the large steel doors, "but none of its worked in years, the government doesn't even care about this stuff no more…I always figured they'd hold onto everything," he glanced away from the pad to look contently at the brooding Athis, "what exactly do you think you're wanting out of here?"
"I was talking to chief Rogas," Athis responded politely while working his hand behind his neck to scratch, "when I discussed with him about my plans to become an electronic engineer he was yapping about this stockpile of weaponry that was just laying around the silo's you guys got here…so I figure it's never going to get used and it's never going to leave so why not tinker around with it and see what I can learn?"
"Well, that's very weak," the officer replied with wit as he turned to the doors. The high doors of the warehouse began to slide at a sluggish pace into the inner wall slots that were designed to take them.
"I've done something that was honestly quite hard for me," Athis interjected with a stern scowl, "the least the office of the law can do for me if give me an opportunity to put all this old junk to use: an education."
"This stuff hasn't been touched in years…we don't even keep it all that well guarded on account of all this stuff being useless. Did this reports you read about this stockpile give you any indication about something of notable interest being here?"
"Yeah," Athis gulped as he responded, waddling back forth on his toes as he stared at the dividing doors revealing the treasure trove that lay within, "a few years back, some cops got their hands on some power cells belonging to Arthur Light."
"That Doctor Light?" The officer questioned as he stepped toward the widening gap, the shadow casting of the twilight casting sun breaching its weak rays within the immediate insides of the facility.
"Yeah," Athis smiled as he stepped towards the door reaching to stand on par with the accompanying officer, "long lost relative…left his old helmet laying around," Athis rose up the helmet into both his hands revealing its full make. Possessing above the black circular top was a white fin of sorts that was flat and stretched from the front white band of the brow front and rid all the way to the back. He looked upon the face opening, seeing the inner white cushioning that would support the back of his head and neck. "Can't you hear it speak?" he tapped into a more cheery voice, seeing the puzzled reaction of the young officer. He turned his head straight to the opening door and pulled up the helmet high before slowly let it descend onto his head with a smile and wide eyes, "it wants to help me, but it needs power," he pulled up a small grey tubular item from his jacket pocket with black caps on either side preventing its contents from falling out. He extended it out to the officer, and spoke out angrily "it just needs some power."