Tales of Iscariot
Junk Male: Entrance
He sat in the chair. No handcuffs bound his hands. That was a good idea. He didn't like to be tied up. He looked up, feeling groggy. Had he been asleep?
"Are you awake?" A new voice said. It echoed a few times in his ears before he could focus on it. He was sitting in front of a desk. And there was a man sitting behind it. The man looked thin, almost emaciated.
"I could break you in half, I think." The man said.
No you couldn't. He thought to himself. Or at least he thought he did.
"I suggest you do not try." He replied. His hands were shuffling through some papers. He seemed concerned, but the man didn't know why.
Yes you do. You just don't remember. So just do what he says. He could probably kill you now.
The man behind the desk lowered the papers and looked at him.
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
"I'm trying to decide what to do with you." The skinny man said.
"What's your name?"
Gregorius Paine.
"You can call me Dr. Paine."
"I know."
"You've heard of me?" Dr. Paine asked, looking puzzled.
"No."
Paine shook his head, "That is my hero license moniker. I have since retired into the department of Superhero affairs. Do you know why you're here?"
Yes.
"No."
"We found you tangled up in a mass of Hellions. The super group Evil Overwhelming found you and rescued you. I think they believed you were another hero in distress. Imagine their surprise when you turned on them."
"What did I do?"
Dr. Paine handed him one of this papers. He took it and looked at it. The picture was in black and white. The resolution was off. It was a quick job.
"A police drone took this mid-combat."
He had a strange picture in his head. Of flashing blue and red lights. Then a big flash. Then…nothing.
The picture was of him, he could tell by the rags he was wearing. A grass-stained cargo jacket and faded dirty blue jeans. The hair was a mess. But there was something wrong, really wrong. For one there was a gas mask over his face.
Much like the one you're wearing now.
He felt his face and realized it was true. He hadn't even realized he was wearing it. Even after touching it he could barely believe it was true. Why was he wearing it.
"Would you mind taking off the mask?" Paine asked.
Do not take off the mask!
"I don't want to." He said.
"Why do you wear it?"
"I don't know. But I know I shouldn't take it off."
Paine nodded. He turned back to his photo and looked closely at it. There was something all over his body. Something sharp and spiny. Like he was a twisted porcupine or something. And one of those sharp protrusions was running through the gut of one of the heroes.
He looked at his hands.
"Do you know what you did?" Paine asked him.
"I killed someone." He answered, looking at his hand as though he expected it to be dripping crimson.
"No, you didn't. Each registered Hero is equipped with an emergency teleportation mechanism. Should the Hero's vitals fail it immediately transports him to the nearest hospital. He is quite alive and well."
He sighed with relief. Something in his mask clicked and wheezed. It was doing something to the air.
"Do you know how you did that?" Paine asked.
He looked at his photo again. How had he done that.
"The Change…" He said before he realized what he was saying.
"The Change?" Paine asked, interested.
"The Change…it made me strong."
"Did it indeed?"
That's all he needs to know.
"I don't know any more."
"Pity." Paine drew a gun and fired point-blank at his head.
He fell to the floor in his desperate attempt to dodge. He got up to run but he slipped. Why did he feel so weak?
Paine put the gun away.
"How far?" He asked no one.
A computerized female voice answered, "Dodged by six inches."
"Excellent." Paine said, "You may take your seat."
He didn't. Instead he backed against the wall.
"There were no bullets in the gun." He assured him, "That was a test of your reflexes. Are you aware that you just dodged a bullet?"
He had dodged a bullet. How had he done that?
You didn't. I did.
"And by six inches no less. That's quite good."
"What does that mean?"
"It means someone did something to you. Either to help you or hurt you. I can't tell. And since you acted in perceived self-defense I can't justify subjecting you to tests. Though I would guess that Dr. Vazhilok is involved. He's known for this sort of thing, I'm afraid. Either way we have a problem."
"Why?"
He wants to hurt you.
"Because you're too dangerous to be let loose. So I have a choice to offer you."
"What?"
"Either we can place you in protective custody until the cause of your ailment is known and resolved."
That means we'll be locked in a cell until they can figure out how to change you back. Do you want to stay strong?
"Yes."
"Yes, you want protective custody?"
No, you don't. You want the other option.
"No."
"The other option is to enlist you into Iscariot. This is one of the black branches of the Department of super-powered affairs. You'll be issued a hero's license and given free reign to act with contacts. But you'll be under our supervision."
"Why would you let me do that?"
"Because we're hoping that whoever did this to you will come looking for you. Or maybe that you'll go looking for them. You could be an asset to us."
"Ok."
"You'll need a moniker."
"What's that?"
"Your name. The identity you'll use with other heroes."
"I don't have one."
Paine looked him up and down. Then he turned to a speaker on his desk, "Have a Hero license printed. Known powers include heightened reflexes and potential osteo-manipulation. Security clearance level 2"
"Name?" the voice on the other end of the speaker asked.
"Junk Male."
"That's my name?" He asked.
HAHAHAHAHA