Ghosts of the Past
Alexnandru Van Gordon
I can't get back the chapters I wrote—I'm back from Prince Edward Island—a lot of my sanity was stolen and utterly destroyed in that province—and I lost a bet to Insaneiac the Maniac which means I have to be evil/fully-insane/mean for the whole month of August. If you have any questions please pose them to Victor who is where-in-the-world right now and let's get on with the show!—
CHAPTER TEN: An odd sensation
Red-X wasn't about to let someone die. He was a thief and he did have the tendency to beat the living daylights out of anyone who put him in a bad mood, but he did have a soft spot for kids and Vincent was just young enough to be considered one. Thirteen was just a little ways away from the major turning point in your life. Thereafter, in your teenaged years, you either became a jock, a nerd, a preppy, or someone who had a strange liking toward kamikaze practices and the colour black. He…didn't exactly know where he fit in though kamikaze didn't seem to far away from some of the suicidal stunts he pulled. Oh, if his mother knew what he was up to she'd turn in her grave…
So, his nicer side taking control, he tried as best he could to reach over the kid and untie his hands. His own hands were bond at the wrists and if he could feel the rope cutting into flesh through his thick gloves he could only wonder what Vincent was feeling. And, to his great dismay, the door burst open to reveal Wintergreen and HW right at that moment. The only lucky thing about the situation was both of them had their eyes on him and not Vincent, who they ignored entirely as they strolled right up to him and one of them (he didn't quite know who, seeing that both decided on the same action at the exact same time) knocked him out with a swift kick to the face. If not for his mask, he would have probably broken his nose. Thank God Robin worked so hard on the suit…
---
Waking up wasn't such a nice business. In his mind's eye it felt like a couple of seconds that he was knocked out, but that tends to happen when you fall unconscious. You temporarily lose the ability to keep track of time (not that many people ever had that ability to begin with). And it was dark…and cold…and he was strapped down to a flat, hard surface.
Turning his head to the side, X stared across the room into darkness. The only light in the room came from a medium powered spot light beaming down upon him from above. It was bright enough to blind him, but again the mask saved another part of his face—his eyes. After five or ten minutes, his eyes forced themselves to focus to the light and he could blink again without his eyes watering.
Arms strapped down to his sides, legs tied together, he tried a few tugs just to test his luck and sighed heavily when he gave into the same truth a lot of guys in his position eventually came to realize—no escape…at the moment…
He was not the least bit happy to see the solemn face which met him in the light. Walking slowly from the darkness came HW—but the mask was off and he could see that something was taxing all her energy away. It appeared as though she woke up in the middle of the night, breathing hard and shivering in the cold sweat one could only get from a nightmare. Maybe it was "nightmares", for surely it would take more than one night of no sleep to make her look like she didn't know whether to stay awake or fall asleep on her feet. She probably felt like the living dead anyway, worn and overly stressed. Strangely, it reminded him of Robin and his little obsession sessions over catching Slade.
"I thought you'd never wake." She smiled gently, some of the grayness leaving her emotion…She was insane. Nothing in her expression would suggest that she was mean or cruel by nature—like she was right now. Maybe it was because she looked tired...He honestly had no idea.
"Why? You plan on hearing me scream as you torture me?"
She looked at the circling for a brief second and bit her lower lip as she thought before returning her attention to him. "Not quite…Well, you can't categorize it as torture because you get the final say in what's about to happen."
"If it's anything to do about handing out information you should know the answer to that already—"
"Oh—no, no." She interrupted him politely. He honestly couldn't tell if she was mocking him or really too insane to understand how evil she truly was. "You don't have to tell us anything. You've kinda…out-lived your usefulness……sorry."
Sorry? She even looked and said it like she meant it, soft and hushed in an apologetic voice.
"Oh…then you're just going to kill me?"
"Oh yeah, which reminds me—" And then he noticed the needle she held in her right hand. She lifted it gentle, point aimed at the ceiling, before squirting out any air. "This is a sedative. Seeing that Wintergreen and Slade are handing your execution over to me, I get to decide how to do away with you…as long as it's original…"
"Aw gee. Now I feel special…Are you going to kill me with the sedative or is there some master mind plot behind it all…"
"Ha. Ha. Ha. Very funny, but I'm trying to be nice—so give me a little slack here." She sighed and shook her head. "Since you're the type of guy I assume would want to die standing, I wanted to know if I should use the sedative on you before I actually kill you."
"Why? Is this going to hurt?"
"Um…Well…I guess you could say that…"
"…Why…?"
She turned around and disappeared in the darkness, but her voice still reached him from where she went. "Wintergreen said it had to be original and there's not a lot to work with in this old place so…I went looking around and all I could find was…this." The last word was strained. She was lifting something heavy and sighed once it was in her hands. Walking back toward him and the table he was strapped to, she held the chainsaw in clear view for him to see. Holding the handle with one hand, she used her free hand to grip the starter. "I know it looks bad now, but I promise to decapitate you first…unless you have some strange request like starting from the feet up. It's supposed to be easier to hide a body if it's chopped up so I thought this would work out for both of us. Now…do you want the sedative now or are you going to be a big boy about this whole matter and take the pain like a man?"
"IF YOU'RE CHOPPING ME UP INTO PIECES I DOUBT I'LL LIVE LONG ENOUGH TO SAVOR THE PAIN!"
"You're right…blood loss is still a matter. But I'm feeling merciful today. Now—sedative or no sedative?"
Something burned in his chest. It must have been pride because in that instant fear was drowned out by the odd sensation. Maybe it was courage…he didn't know, but real heroes probably felt it all the time. It was a good feeling. He wasn't about to show weakness to the likes of a villain no matter how…insane he or she was.
"Just do it. What difference does it make that I'm aware of what's happening to me or not? If you're killing me, why does it matter to me?"
She stared at the ground, what little spirits she possessed now dashed. "I…don't like to kill. I don't know what possessed me to hurt my brother…and you…and all those other people, but the feeling…the drive is dying out. But I can't say that I've got a conscience either. I don't feel…anything. I…haven't slept and all my power is draining. Do you know what it feels to be dead and alive at the exact same time? Water is all you consume because you're both constantly starving and sick of every type of food at the exact same time, and sleep never comes easy—if ever…I'm running off adrenaline or something of the sort, and when I've wasted up that I'll be wasted too. It's just…something's holding me back…"
There was a battle raging on inside of her—he could tell by the look on her face…the look in her eyes…her eyes…
Her eyes…
"…Kyle?"
She—or he—or whatever—looked up at him. HW had gray eyes and that he knew from spending so much time with her and the others in Gotham. A picture of her in civilian clothes was in the database anyway and she was wearing her glasses, dull gray eyes staring out at someone. Vincent's picture was there too and he had the type of sparkling blue eyes that a lucky girl would never forget—the same eyes he had only ever seen Kyle with. And if Vincent was in the other room…this had to be Kyle.
"Yeah….Vincent has two powers and so do I, but look at what my individual one has gotten me into. I've been angry for so long that I can't even remember what I'm angry at. At first it was just everyone and thing, but when I stopped eating and spent less time here…it slowly started to go away…"
X turned his head to the gaze back up at the light. He knew that guys didn't like people seeing them cry, and obviously Kyle was begin controlled…manipulated like all of Slade's other puppets. Maybe it was a new chemical, something in the food he wasn't eating or even in the air as a gas. Slade had a way of getting to a person through any means how, and X could say that easily through experience.
-K-
This had to end. It was just getting to be too much…far too much.
Grief stricken, Vincent suddenly came back to mind and that was what forced the silent tears to stream down his face. When Red-X looked away he formed back into his usual self, dropping the chainsaw as the pain returned. His right hand subconsciously shot up to the pendant around his neck, fingers tracing the small lightning bolt. He knew what he had to do. Wintergreen was on his way to kill Vincent when it was really Kyle who needed to pay.
Wiping away the tears, the smiled as best he could and headed for the door. X started to say something behind him, probably wanting to know where he was going, but Kyle ignored him as he ran toward the door on the far side of the room and dashed down the hall toward the room with his brother. Along the way he morphed back into the vision of his sister, brighter and with a small genuine smile curving the corners of his lips.
Seeing Vincent in the state he was in tore Kyle's heart to pieces. Bloody and pale, his brother didn't even bother to move or open his dark eyes to see who entered. It wasn't until Kyle knelt by his head and gently lifted it to rest on his lap that Vincent opened his eyes. At first he stared quietly, eyes adjusting in the darkness to focus on Kyle's face, and when the Kyle had finished untying his wrists a hand moved to touch his face.
"…Joyce…"
He leaned over him to reach for his bent legs, slipping the rope off his ankles easier than what it took for his wrists. Then he gave a small laugh, more tears falling. A few landed on Vincent's face and Kyle moved to wipe them away.
"Hey, kiddo." He managed to say. "Why the gloomy look?"
"You…can't be here…"
"Only for a bit, kiddo. I know, I know—I'm dead. Whatever!"
Vincent gave his brother an odd look, but smiled gently and gave a painful sigh. "Why are you here?"
"I'm hiding you—oh, and you lost this…" Kyle reached around his neck and slipped the pendant over his head. This he put around Vincent's throat and smiled when his younger brother laughed quietly in surprise.
"I thought I lost this…"
"No worries." He wiped away another stray tear and gently laid Vincent's head back on the ground. Then he slid one arm behind his knees, the other behind his back, before lifting him off the ground.
That's when he heard him.
The heavy, march-like footsteps ringing out in the hall began to grow as Wintergreen drew near. With him was the shot-gun he showed Kyle earlier and right now he was going to use it for only one purpose.
Now what? He couldn't step out into the hallway or else Wintergreen would shoot them both down. The man might have looked old, but Kyle wouldn't doubt his military back-ground for a second. He was the second-scariest person he had met in his entire life besides Slade—and that was saying something.
"Who…is that?" Vincent asked softly and Kyle ran behind the door. In the corner of the room were a few crates, nothing big, but if he propped Vincent up against the wall in a sitting position, the box would hide him well enough. "What are doing?"
"Just keep quiet." Kyle ordered in a hushed voiced. He set his weak-bodied brother up behind the crates to block his view. It didn't matter much anyway; Vincent was passing out as they were speaking. "And don't go anywhere unless you hear someone out in the hall that you trust. You've got to hide."
"…And you?" His head nodded forward and he blinked a few times to stay awake.
"I've…got to go again."
"Joyce…"
Kyle silently thanked God for Vincent's weakened state. They were a Christian family and Vincent always had a strong belief in angels.
"Take care, Vincent. I'll be watching."
His brother didn't reply, but smiled again before passing out. It all worked out well actually…seeing that Wintergreen was almost there.
In the darkness Kyle quietly pushed the door shut and sat leaning against the wall where his brother once laid. Then, sending a quick prayer to God, he changed his appearance for the last time, every cut and bruise to replicate his wounded brother. Eyes half closed, a weary look to his face, he stared at the ground in front of him as Wintergreen opened the door.
The old man paused, rifle in hand, as he looked Kyle over. "You, I'm afraid to say, are the first child I will ever kill. Take this in no personal way, boy, but Slade's orders are to do away with you now before your friends arrive." He knelt down and ran his right hand through the puddle of blood around him. Then he ran his fingers along the bullet his had in his pocket and loaded up the rifle.
"I'm sorry…do you have any last words?" He raised the gun and took aim at his face.
"Forgiven."
And then he was no more.
-A-
Okay—one dead—more to go! I was going to writ something from another TT's point of view but I kind of forgot where the heck I had them last in this story. And I'm really sorry that I killed someone, but this has been nagging me at the back of my mind since the end of my vacation and I wanted to get it over and done with. Sorry, Kyle—no hard feelings. But it was either you or your brother…or is it?...
Until Again,
Alexnandru Van Gordon