Three days passed. Three days with no word, no clues, nothing to do but wait. Collins practically moved into the loft and threw himself into his research, continuing to learn what he could about ancient vessels that supposedly held power, but found nothing that even remotely resembled what they were dealing with. He was amassing a truckload of knowledge, and would pace his room, quoting, mumbling, totally in a zone that Roger couldn't pull him from. Benny resumed his work with half concentration, his ear towards the phone at all times, his senses searching for a "soulless one". No one came into his office that remotely fit the description, but he did find out that Lisa, the girl that delivered the coffee urns and acted as a gopher, had a crush on him. It was pleasantly amusing, and got him nowhere. Nate appeared and disappeared with no news as to Mark's whereabouts, or what he was doing.
This left Roger to roam the city streets. He visited his old haunts, but all were as soulless as the people Benny was keep an eye out for. His worry was consuming him. Mimi insisted that he would return, she and Joanne and Maureen were out looking as well. Mimi knew something was different, something was up, and she was getting annoyed with Roger for not telling her. Evading questions after the wreck had been easy enough, he just fell back on the truth. But as for the four of them suddenly hanging out together again? What the hell was he supposed to say, anyway? That he could fight, beat the crap out of ten people at once? Yeah, she'd love that. Besides, if she knew . . .the thought of her being kidnapped due to something he was into was intolerable. He was protecting her. He was protecting all of them.
Why Mark? Would they come after him, or Benny, or Collins? They had spent the first day sticking close together, the second day drifting into their activities. It was four o'clock on the third day, and they hadn't even talked. No news, no need. Who the hell were "they", anyhow?
It was six oclock when Roger returned to the loft to hear the phone ringing. "Hello?" he answered breathlessly.
"Roger! Where have you been?"
"Nate! You got news?"
"No. I just wanted to make sure you were there, I'm coming by."
"I'm here, what's going on?"
"I'll tell you when I arrive. Don't go anywhere." The line went dead.
Roger hesitated, then hung up. He looked at his hand, and slowly turned it over, remembering when Mark had healed him. There wasn't even a scar. That warmth. . .he hadn't felt it in a while. He had assumed once they cleaned the air between them that the warmth would remain. Maybe not. But then, was the air really cleared? He remembered how they last parted, how Roger was in such a pissy mood because he was feeling out of sorts, due to his illness, and Mark couldn't fix it. Roger, deep down, was angry that Mark couldn't use his power to cure him. It was normal, it was expected. This was his life, of course he was going to be pissed. But not at Mark, that wasn't right. It wasn't Mark's fault if his talent didn't lean in that direction. He did what he could, and that would have to be good enough. Roger sighed and clenched his hand into a fist, closed his eyes, and forgave Mark right there, remembering that warmth, that openness, and he wanted it back.
Roger?
Roger's eyes opened, and he blinked.
Roger!
It was in his head. It was wishful thinking. If only the sudden racing of his heart hadn't distracted him . . .
Roger, please. I heard you, I know I did . . .
Mark? He couldn't hope. His mind was playing tricks.
Thank god! It's a trap. Don't.
Mark! What the hell . . .how can you . . .?
Device. Hurts. Don't . . . they're coming. . .
There was a knock on the door. Roger blinked at it, his hand still clenched in a fist. Fear gripped his heart. There had to be a reason Nate wasn't telling him everything. He suddenly wondered why they were sent to that field, rather than Nate going himself. He remembered Nate's words, "Get Mark and go there." He didn't have time to think further as the window burst behind him and the room filled with men, all with blank stares.
Soulless.
It was his last conscious thought.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Roger could see him. He was shoved roughly forward into a dim room, his eyes glued to his friend, standing very still, looking more worn than ever, his back to a thick pole about a foot in diameter. Several twists of rope wrapped around his chest and abdomen, and his hands were secured behind him. Still, he was alive, he was there in the flesh, and that one thought helped still his panic. "That the best you guys can do?" Roger asked in disgust as he was pushed forward, seeing Mark's head whip up at the sound of his voice. "Thought you would of had some sort of electric cage or something." Sound brave, good deal. Helps to convince yourself that you are.
"Roger?" Mark's voice was soft with disbelief. His eyes never left Roger as he was shoved alongside Mark and released.
Roger adjusted his jacket, his own eyes not leaving their abductors. "Mark, you okay?" he muttered, trying not to look like he cared. Like that would work.
"I've been better," he admitted in a low voice. "You?"
"Having the time of my life."
Mark actually managed a snort and a half smile. "Figures."
Roger took a step back and cut his eyes down to Mark's wrists. He was dismayed to find, not rope, but a wide steel band encircling them. This wasn't going to be easy at all.
"You act very intelligent, when you allow yourself," an accented voice said. It was deep, and threatening. "But you are not wise."
Roger winced as he searched the area. His abductors had gone, filing away into the dark corners of the room. He took an experimental step back, then one closer to Mark. Seeing no movement, he continued to take small, cautious steps until he stood directly behind his friend, and fingered the metal band. Mark's fingers twitched in response, and he looked over his shoulder.
"Stay still," Roger muttered, his own fingers probing the cuff. There was no sign of a fissure, it was a solid piece of metal that almost looked as though it had been molded to fit. Mark's wrists were pressed together tightly, but not so tight as to cut off the blood flow. "How the hell?"
"I don't know. I woke up like this."
Well, that would explain the ropes holding him up. Roger looked up into darkness. "Don't suppose you could've just let the man sit to take a nap."
"This way he tires much more easily." A man walked from the shadows, and Roger felt his stomach drop sickeningly.
"I wanted to warn you," Mark explained calmly, "after the day of the wreck, can't believe we didn't realize it . . ." he shrugged as best he could.
"I suspected. Too late, of course." Roger looked at the man with all the sour distaste in the world. "Nathaniel Greer."
"The same." Nate stepped forward, his chin raised in amusement.
"What do you want. I mean, what do you really want?"
"I have told you. I want the vessel."
"For yourself. You want all this power for yourself."
"I have my reasons for wanting it, yes."
"You were our friend. You helped us with these powers, dammit!" Roger'd had enough. "You didn't want them for us, you wanted them to serve you!" He charged toward the man that was supposed to be on their side. He heard Mark yell out his name in warning, and felt himself slammed into the floor by an unseen body. His hands were forced behind him by one person, someone else pressed a knee between his shoulder blades. Roger grunted in pain and managed to twist his head around and forced himself to look up at Nate, who stood beside an angry Mark, both watching him. Mark was doing his best to strain forward, anger marring his features, and was hardly able to move an inch.
Nate smiled, his hand reaching out to stroke Mark's light hair as the other man flinched. "I have my prize. He's the one I've been searching for. And amazingly enough, he led me to you." Nate grabbed the hair, giving it a tug, tilting Mark's head side to side. "This little scamp was supposed to be the most powerful of you lot, but guess what?" He released Mark, and walked forward, then crouched down in front of Roger. "We were wrong. What do you think of that?"
"I think you're crazy!" Roger accused, trying to push himself up. He saw Mark strain again, and stilled himself.
"Hm." Nate considered this, and nodded as he stood. "Probably am." He signaled, and the man kneeling on Roger stood and pulled him to his feet with a firm grip. "But then it takes the crazy people to see what ordinary people can't. And I see potential in you, Roger. You can have the whole universe at your feet."
"This is so fucking cliche."
Nate laughed. "It is, isn't it? The bad guy, out to conquer all. The friend who sacrifices himself, the other who fights in his name. The question is. . ." he looked from Roger to Mark, "which one of you will be the sacrifice?" He grinned wildly at the panicked looks exchanged. "I jest! I'm teasing you!" Nate laughed and walked over to Roger, slinging his arm across the angry man's shoulder. "The truth is, I need you both, for now. But after that, just one. So. . .actually," he pursed his lips in thought, "maybe I wasn't kidding. Because the one that is chosen, will die." He shrugged. "It can't be helped. The link must be formed."
"Wait, what link?" Roger asked, pulling away. He stood defiantly, rubbing his wrist where they had been held tightly.
"The link that's created when we all join together," Mark said from the pole. "There's more than us, Roger, more than the four of us. There's people like us everywhere, and Nathaniel here wants what we have."
"Why? Wanna be a god?" Roger huffed, then realized what he said. His body crumpled in disbelief. "Shit."
Nate smiled. "There is a way. All of the power can be channeled into a single means of containment."
"What are you talking about?"
Nate lowered his head. He clasped his hands behind his back and paced, mirroring Mark's static position and making light of it. "Why do you think I need the vessel?"
Roger felt like he'd stopped breathing. "You're insane."
"Probably. This vessel contains power. Now exactly where it originated, I have no clue. It is said that the keeper of his vessel holds the power of the universe. Drop the vessel, and the power is unleashed."
"Wait." Roger stepped forward, questioning. "This really is the thing you were looking for, the thing that matches that ceramic piece you carry around?"
"It is."
"Then you're not lying. This thing is for real?" Roger found himself smiling. "Are you seriously saying somebody dropped a fucking pot and caused all this shit?"
"The vessel is a magical implement. We do not know the true purpose of it, only that all of its power must be contained, or it will destroy the world."
"Uh-huh. And once this power is contained, the vessel goes right into you little Eurocraptastic hands."
"Not mine, no. But I work for a powerful person who would like it very much."
"I bet. If he's so powerful, what does he want with this?"
"Don't be foolish. You know what I mean." Nate snapped.
Roger sized him up. "Right. Exactly how is this supposed to happen?"
"We must make a bridge. I have the two of you, and your friends will be here shortly. Really, I'd be touched by your loyalty to each other if it wasn't such a pain in the arse."
"Yeah, well, we had to work hard at it. Take the lesson, huh?"
Nate smiled. "The others in the world that possess these gifts are aware of what is happening, but they don't understand it. Glimpses, they have, visions of people they don't know. And they will be united by this, when the time comes." Nate looked at Roger steadily. "You are the source. You will be the one to unite the lot of them. Through you all power will merge."
"Through me?" Roger didn't know what to say. A thousand questions filled his mind, was it safe, of course not, why him, why this, how, would it hurt, would it. . . "You realize I'm ill."
"I realize your illness has nothing to do with this."
"Except it could kill him," Mark said angrily. He had been listening with growing horror at what was unfolding, and was beginning to realize why he was tied to the pole. He was ready to reach out and throttle someone.
Nate turned slowly with a feral smile, and confronted the bound man. "It could. Do you want to take his place?"
Roger could see that the question took Mark aback. He felt a pain in his heart, because he knew what Mark's answer would be, and he'd be damned if . . . "No. I'll do it."
Mark actually glared at him. "Are you nuts?"
"I hope not."
"You're not doing this."
"Given the choice? Dammit, I'm dying anyway!"
"No, you're. . .damn! Roger!" Mark pulled forward, and yelled out in frustrated anger at his inability to do anything. "Damn it!" He turned his glare to Nate. "Look, I can't leave this room, anyway, what the hell are you keeping me tied up for? Let me go!"
Nate considered it. "No. I rather like the stress it puts him through," he tilted his head toward Roger.
"Sadistic bastard," Roger growled. "Just let him go, for god's sake, it won't make a difference."
"I can't. Not yet." Nate slowly turned to Roger. "Are you ready for this?"
"Roger, no! Don't. Come on, what about Mimi?"
"Cut the melodrama, Mark." He didn't want to hear it. He didn't want to hear all of the reasons he shouldn't do what he was about to, because there was a very good chance he would back out. The alternative to that was Mark's being the victim, and there was no way in hell that was going to happen.
"What favor are you doing her?" Mark was getting desperate, which translated into being seriously pissed off. Roger knew this and fed on it, because a pissed off Mark was easier for him to stomach than a frightened one.
"I'm sparing her pain," he said simply. Too simply.
"Oh, that's bullshit!" Mark raged. "You're just running again! Only this time you die like a hero, but dammit, dead is still DEAD!"
Roger clenched his fist without realizing it. "That's right!" he raged back. "And you'll live to be a hundred, so what does it matter to you?" He strode toward his friend. "Why should you sacrifice yourself, huh? What good would it do any of us to lose you? You're the one that keep us sane!"
Mark's pale brows drew tight over his eyes. His anger faded slightly. "What?" he breathed in disbelief.
Roger exhaled heavily, hating that this little scene was being witnessed, but he knew that there were things that needed to be said, and this might be the only time. . . "Mark, listen to me. You're my brother. You know that?"
"Roger, no. Don't, don't do this . . ." Mark shook his head violently, his feelings rising in a panic. "Don't talk like this!"
"I have to. Now just - shut up and let me. Okay? For once, let me talk, and you listen." He put his hands on Mark's shoulders, feeling him tremble. He couldn't help but look at the ropes binding him tight around his chest, and suddenly wondered at the symbolism of it. "You've done nothing but care for all of us, make sure we're okay, even taking jobs you didn't want because I was too lazy to go out there. . ."
"That's not true and you know it."
"It is true. I was scared to live, Mark. I still am."
"I'll help you!"
"By dying? It's you or me, and quite frankly, your prospects look far better than mine ever could." His eyes met Mark's and held them, even as he heard a yell behind him and knew that Collins and Benny were now on the scene. "You have to trust me. Let me do this for you."
"Now who's being melodramatic," Mark whispered as he noticed the new arrivals. Something lit in his eyes, something that looked like hope. "Look, there's another way out of this. There has to be, we're all here together, we can figure this out."
Roger's words ran over him. "If I do this," he said quickly, "I can block it. I can keep him from getting this power." He grinned. "I'm a fighter, remember? It's what I know. Barroom brawls, girlfriends, parents, this disease," he laughed mirthlessly, "I can fight this bastard too. Block his every move."
But Mark was shaking his head again, even as Collins and Benny ran up to them, full of angry questions, grabbing hold of Roger, looking at the guards that now surrounded them, watching, tugging at the restraints holding Mark, seeing how Roger and Mark wouldn't let go of each other's gaze. Roger finally nodded and pulled back, and walked toward Nate.
"No! Oh, shit, no! Collins, get him! Now!"
Collins zeroed in on Mark's panic. He had no clue what was going on, but he knew it couldn't be good. He saw Roger's retreating back and launched after him without a second thought, tackling him to the ground as the guards closed in. "Davis!" he hissed into Roger's ear, "you better talk to me, what the hell's going on?" He was forced to his feet, cursing, and a remorseful expression met his. Collins looked up to see Nate walking toward Benny, who was still trying to free a panicked Mark. "Nate!" His attention returned to Roger. "What the hell?"
"No time . . ." Roger said quickly.
"No time, be damned. . . Benny, watch out!"
Benny spun, just in time to receive a vicious blow to the head. He fell at Mark's feet, stunned, but conscious.
"Benny!" Roger started for him, and was blocked. The men holding Collins tightened their grip. Mark could only look down, horrified.
Nate bent down and attached a small black square to the man's forehead, immobilizing him. Collins struggled against the men holding him, and the same was done. He was able to watch, but not move. His eyes found Mark's, and he wondered again what the hell was going on.
A square was attached to Mark's forehead, courtesy of a guard. Nate said nothing, merely pointing to his left. Roger glanced at a small chamber encased in glass, with a single dias in the center. Nate nodded. Roger swallowed hard, and walked to it.
Roger. The voice was in his head, and he turned in surprise to see Mark watching him, his eyes wide. Please.
Was it because of that box that he could hear him? No, that wasn't it. I have to, he thought back, wondering if he really saw tears in Mark's eyes, or if he just hoped they were there. It would be nice to be missed.
He stepped into the chamber. It closed around him, sealing him in. He could see his friends watching, immobile, and said a silent farewell. The chamber lit around him, throwing his head back, and the universe exploded.
