The Campbell Chronicles
Chapter 2
The pain was the first thing Nicholas felt. A pain that radiated in his joints. Each twitch of his body caused pain that drove him faster to consciousness and clarity.
Darkness was the first thing he saw as he opened his eyes.
Cold seeped into his skin, stiffening his muscles.
Blinking, his vision shifted.
The darkness faded, and dimly glowing red threads shimmered into existence around him. As the threads solidified, he saw through the world around him.
He was in a cocoon of sorts.
The cocoons sat in a large room connected to curved metal tubes.
Large dust-covered machines sat around him, cobwebs covering their screens.
"Where am I?" He asked the world, voice hoarse from disuse.
Images flashed through his mind, his mother kissing his forehead before allowing herself to fall into the energy that was the Exterminator.
The scene played over and over in his mind. Each time he relived that moment, his mind opened like a flower.
"Mother gave me her knowledge of quantum string manipulation," his eyes closed, the skin of his brow wrinkling in thought as he focused, "but there's more here."
Raising his hand, Nicholas touched one of the strings that made up his cocoon. The string glowed, and possibilities blossomed within his mind like a tree.
Images appeared before him. Each one was connected to the string he touched by a fainter representation. Each image held a possibility of what his cocoon could become.
In one image, it transforms into a black medieval suit of armor. In another, it transformed into a sphere that could fly through the air.
Nicholas ignored these options and focused on a much more mundane transformation.
The cocoon around him shifted as it moved to conform to his body. As it draped over him like a second skin, portions of it disappeared, transforming into a white button-down shirt, black vest, black slacks, and black dress shoes.
The scent of stale air and old metal filled his nose as he dropped to the floor, swaying as his legs shook underneath his weight.
Stumbling forward, he placed his hands on the machine as he passed, his fingers leaving streaks in the dust coating the metal.
Slamming into the far wall, his left palm found a switch.
A click echoed through the room, and lights flickered on.
Nicholas got his first good look at his body as the lights appeared. His arms were little more than skin stretched over bone. Touching his face, he found his cheeks were sunken, and his hair was gone, leaving behind a smooth scalp.
"What happened to me? Why do I feel so weak?"
Dropping his hands from his face, Nicholas focused on the threads that made up the door. Poking one of the strings, the door collapsed into piles of silver-colored sand.
Nicholas swayed as the sand rained to the floor, his vision blurring from a sudden weakness. He fell to his knees, the metal sand doing little to cushion his fall.
For a long moment, Nicholas just sat there, his gaze blank.
"Hey! Who are you?"
Nicholas's gaze snapped in the direction of the voice.
A dark-skinned man in green military fatigues strode toward him; his square jaw in a firm line, his Brown eyes hard as he closed the distance between them.
He raised a large hand, "I asked you a question, old man."
Nicholas's bony hand shot forward, a faint orange ring around his pupil as his skeletal fingers wrapped around the man's wrist.
Rising to his feet in the same motion, Nicholas leaned close, sniffing the man's shoulder. Faint white vapors rose from the man's body and entered Nicholas's nose.
His veins flared beneath his thin skin.
On instinct, the soldier's right fist slammed into the side of Nicholas's head, but he didn't move.
"What are you?" The man screamed as Nicholas blurred into motion, slamming him against the hallway wall hard enough to dent the plaster.
"I am a guardian of Brigadoon, but at the moment, I'm hungry."
Nicholas inhaled sharply.
Waves of white vapor billowed off the man's body and flew into Nicholas's mouth. With each gulp of the vapors, the man aged decades. His muscles shrunk, his skin sagged, and his hair grayed as his eyes became a lighter brown.
As the man's vitality disappeared, Nicholas grew stronger. His skin thickened, some of his wrinkles disappeared, and his hair sprouted from his head a stark white instead of its usual dark green.
Colonel Adam Winterbourne crumbled to ash as Nicholas stepped back.
Nicholas stared at the ash-covered clothes. "I'm sorry, Colonel Winterbourne, but my new physiology overwhelmed me."
He looked down the stark white hallway, taking note of the metal railings that glinted in the fluorescent lights above him.
According to the Colonel's memories, it has been billions of years since Brigadoon fell, but the technology doesn't look that different.
Shaking his head, Nicholas disappeared in a dark blur.
In the blink of an eye, he was outside. Leaping into the air, he soared into the sky before stopping and turning to get a look at his surroundings.
Tall concrete buildings stretched below him; their rectangular Windows casting scattered light throughout the city like stars in the night sky.
Cars in various colors and styles spread throughout the city, weaving down curved roads.
Nicholas closed his eyes; according to Adam's memories, this was the city of Metropolis, a jewel among the cities of the world, and hailed as one of the safest, thanks to its local hero, Superman, a Kryptonian raised on earth.
Nicholas's fingers twitched. There was so much he didn't know. His body had changed, and his powers had transformed. At the moment, they were weak. If his interaction with the Colonel was any indication, he needed life force to strengthen them and return to his previous state.
His hands curled into fists; though the Colonel had done some questionable things in the service of Cadmus, he was ultimately a good man by society's standards. If he were going to have to feed on life force, he would at least focus on the darker elements of the world, and according to the Colonel, there was one place he could find those types of people.
However, before he headed to Gotham City, there was one more place he needed to go. His eyes drifted upwards, and his body lurched as he ascended higher into the sky.
The city faded below him, becoming nothing more than a speck as clouds obscured the ground. The air became thin, and the temperature dropped, cold bit into his skin. Pushing energy out of his body, air and fire flowed from his pores, coating him like a second skin and allowing him to breathe.
As he reached the atmosphere, a layer of pale blue energy covered his skin, protecting him from the heat.
For a moment, he stopped there in the middle of the atmosphere and turned to look at the landmasses below. His heart dropped. The earth had changed so much in the time he had been asleep. There was no way he could find where Brigadoon once stood.
Locking his gaze upward once more, he continued his journey.
Exiting the atmosphere, Nicholas floated in the void of space, his gaze locked on the red planet in the distance.
Flicking his fingers out, the threads of reality shimmered into existence as he shifted into a cross-legged position. Focusing on the most prominent glowing thread before him, Nicholas grabbed it, his back arching at the stress it put on his body.
Beads of sweat popped out on his brow and began to run down his face in rivulets as he fought the images flashing through his mind. Even at his peak, he couldn't change the earth; it was too large, and the possibilities were too great, but at the moment, he didn't want to change it; he just wanted to learn history.
Closing his eyes, he relaxed against the thread, allowing it to pull him into the past.
–XX –
The stars around Nicholas shimmered as the past overtook the future. His vision zoomed in as landscapes shifted. He settled over Brigadoon, his heart aching at the destruction he saw.
When it was whole, Brigadoon was shaped like a massive octagon. Eight towers covered the expense of 350 miles. Thick stone walls connected each tower.
From the eight towers, small settlements spread out. Most of the houses were made of stone merged with wood by a mutant ingenuity. Clay tiles kept out the wind and rain.
Bits of bronze were hidden inside the stone houses to have a bit of modern technology, such as electricity and a version of heating and cooling, but that was all gone now.
The eight towers in the city had fallen inward, crushing the smaller buildings; the large blocks that made up the walls were scattered away from the city, with a few buried inside the roofs of houses.
Dead bodies lay in the streets, their skin gray, their eye sockets nothing but empty voids
suddenly, a large sphere rose from the remains of Brigadoon, carrying at least 10,000 people high into the sky. Shifting his perception, Nicholas watched his aunt take the people of Brigadoon into space and meet up with a Martian ship. It was all curves and made of a silvery metal.
Stars stretched, forming into a white portal before the ship.
As the ship disappeared, a little of the weight on Nicholas's heart lifted. At least there were some survivors.
Turning his attention back to the earth, he watched groups of people join together outside the remains of Brigadoon and disperse across the world. Releasing the thread, Nicholas allowed the present to overtake the past.
"So, there were survivors, and only a small portion went with Aunt Jean and Jinks," he glanced at Mars; "one of these days, I will have to go there and see if there are any survivors, but right now," he flexed his fingers, "I don't have the strength."
Drifting toward the earth, Nicholas reentered the atmosphere. "While I know what happened to some of the people of Brigadoon, I don't know what happened to my immediate family," his eyes burned, "I know my parents and great-grandfather Samuel are dead, but what about the others, the uncles, aunts, and cousins."
Steam billowed off his body as he entered the lower atmosphere.
He wiped his eyes, "All the more reason to get stronger."
Focusing on Winterbourne's memories, he angled himself toward Gotham and shot off.
–XX –
Nicholas hovered over Gotham City, a city covered in perpetual shadow, his eyes glowing faintly in the darkness. To his sight, everyone in Gotham glowed with white energy. If they committed a crime, their bodies turned red. How much of the bodies were covered and the shade of the red depended on the severity of the crime.
Slowly, he drifted down, bending the strings of reality as he weaved through the brick buildings to hide from the city's Caped Crusader, the Batman, who took it upon himself to clean up Gotham, but to Nicholas, his methods never really made an impact on the city.
According to Adam's memories, he would catch the criminals and imprison them; they would escape, kill hundreds to thousands, he would capture them, and the process would start all over again.
He could easily see these people; a red haze surrounded their bodies, and while he would love to go after them, he wasn't quite ready to draw Batman's attention. He would need more than one target to regain his previous strength.
That's why tonight, he was going after the Falcone family. Not only was the family into organized crime, which meant they had plenty of blood on their hands, but they would undoubtedly have some free cash lying around that he could use to start a new life.
Hovering over the Falcone estate, he sent out a small pulse of telekinetic power.
A large Manor sat in the center of the manicured grounds.
Neatly trimmed bushes lined the driveway and walkways of the estate, creating a beautiful design from above.
A thick concrete wall reinforced with rebar surrounded the estate.
Touching down at the end of the driveway, he placed his hand on the iron gate set into the wall and pushed. With a soft click, the gate swung open.
Sticking his hands into his pockets, he began walking up the drive. The click of his shoes echoed in the darkness.
He watched the heads of the security snap around at the sound, their faces half hidden in shadows thanks to the lights coming from the Manor at their backs.
As they converged on his location, Nicholas kept up his new perception. Seeing them as nothing more than human-shaped red outlines would make what he had to do easier.
He wasn't made to be a killer; he was made to be a guardian, but the world changed. According to Adam's memories, if one wanted to make a difference in the world, one needed to be willing to kill those who earned it.
From what he understood, the ruling council, or government, no longer cared about the people. Some did, but those with an agenda and greed drowned them out to keep whatever power they had managed to scrounge up.
Six men made of red energy formed a loose circle around him, their weapons drawn.
"Who are you?" The one directly in front of him asked, his gun aimed at his chest.
Nicholas removed his hands from his pockets, "Just a man looking for food."
A guy off to his left snorted, "You've come to the wrong place, old-timer."
"I wish that were true," in the blink of an eye, he stood before the man directly in front of him. Grabbing his wrist, he pulled the man forward until his gun was pointed behind him.
The man fired instinctually, causing his compatriots to dive for cover.
As gunshots rang through the air, Nicholas slammed his palm into the man's chest. With a sharp pulling motion, he pulled his hand away. A stream of white energy flowed from the man's body connected to Nicholas's fingers.
As the energy left his body, the man began to age, and more of Nicholas's wrinkles faded as muscles grew on his frame.
Silence rang through the property as his first meal's ash-covered clothes fell.
"What are you?" A quavering voice from his right asked.
"Honestly, I don't know."
Curling the fingers of his left hand, the man flew toward him, his screams breaking the silence.
Catching the man by the throat, he began walking forward as the remaining four men rose.
Threads of white energy flowed from the man's body, sinking into Nicholas's forearm.
Most of his wrinkles faded, and his hair began to regain its dark green color.
By the time he shook the man's ash from his hand, only slight streaks of gray in his hair and wrinkles around his eyes revealed his previous decrepit state.
The four remaining men turned to look at each other. As one, they tried to turn and run only to trip and fall as grass was woven together around their legs.
Stopping at the men's feet, Nicholas ignored how the quartet clawed at the overgrowth clinging to their legs and placed one hand on the ground. He began pulling the life force from the quartet's bodies using the woven grass as a medium.
At first, they stiffened, then thrashed as their muscles shrank and their skin shriveled. Hair began to fall from their heads as their skin clung to the cheekbones.
"Why?" One man rasped, his teeth visible through his sunken skin.
"Because of the blood on your hands and the innocents that cry out from the grave for justice."
Twitching the fingers of his right hand, ash-covered cash flowed up from the six remains and sailed into his hand in a neat pile.
Placing his left hand over his right, Nicholas smashed the pile into his palm while sending air between his hands to blow the remaining ash from the cash. Once he could no longer feel the sandy remains against his skin, he folded it over and stuck it into the inner pocket of his jacket while making his way toward the Manor's' front doors.
–XX –
Sofia Falcone stared out the office window, watching her guards turn to ash under the assault of a green-haired man. Her stomach dropped, and her knuckles whitened as she watched money rise from the ashes of their corpses and flow into his hand. She turned away from the window, sweeping strands of her dark brown hair from her face.
Her Brown eyes flicked to the two men standing on either side of the doorway to her office.
Both were 6'5" tall with broad shoulders, dark hair, a military buzz cut, and Hazel eyes. Her gaze flicked to the butts of pistols poking out of their jackets, "We need to move. I don't know who that guy is or what he wants, but he's not here to play."
She glanced at the neck brace on the corner of her desk and the wheelchair near the door before shaking her head. Usually, she would use both to give a frail image, but with someone in her estate, meaning her harm, that mattered little now.
The two men moved before her and squeezed through the doorway, flanking it as she came out behind them. They led the way down a spiral staircase when she left the room.
Suddenly, the double doors to the Manor flew open. Both men raised their weapons and fired, only for the bullets to stop in midair.
The green-haired man stepped into the room, the moonlight highlighting the silver streaks in his hair. His right hand was raised, and his yellow eyes focused on the bullets in the air.
His gaze flicked to the two men on the stairs.
The one to Sofia's right fell against the wall and stuck there. The one to her left flew across the room and was pinned to the wall near the ceiling.
The man stepped further into the mansion as the bullets rained onto the floor.
"Sofia Falcone," the man said, stopping at the bottom of the stairs, "My information was right; you are covered in blood."
Sofia Falcone looked over the black dress that hugged her 5'7" frame; she waved her arm, her diamond bracelet glinting in the moonlight coming through the doorway, "I see no blood."
Nicholas climbed the stairs, causing Sofia to step back, "but it's there all the same;" he taps his ear. "I can hear their pleas for vengeance."
"You're insane," she said, cursing herself for not having a weapon.
"Quite possibly, I've been through a lot today." As Nicholas passed the closest bodyguard, streamers of white energy left him, and they entered Nicholas's body. The last few strands of gray in his hair disappeared, and he felt some of his old strength return.
Sofia stared at the ashes as they rained to the floor. The clothes crumpled to the stairs, landing in a pile on top of the ashes and sending a thin gray cloud into the air.
Nicholas stopped before her, his yellow eyes boring into hers.
Sofia punched at him, only for Nicholas to catch her wrist, "I originally wanted to drain you like the rest of your friends, but after seeing your thread, I have a better idea."
Raising his left hand, Nicholas curled his fingers; Sofia's remaining guard screamed as streamers of white energy flew from his body and sank into the fingers of Nicholas's left hand.
Seeing her last guard fall, Sofia pulled against Nicholas's grip; he didn't falter, and she began lashing out with her feet.
"None of that."
The curved railing that ran the length of her staircase suddenly broke free and snaked its way around her body.
"You won't get away with this, you freak," she spat, "my boys will hunt you down."
Nicholas cocked his head to the side, "They might," reaching forward, he placed his right thumb, pointer finger, and middle finger on Sofia's temple.
Sofia froze in fear, an image of her body crumbling to ash flashing through her mind.
"For years, you pretended to be handicapped to elude suspicion of your crimes."
A red thread snaked from Sofia's temple and wrapped around his fingers. Instantly, possibilities blossomed in his mind. Pushing them aside, he focused his will on the thread, and Sofia felt her body change.
Instantly, she lost feeling from the neck down.
Her muscles shrank from disuse.
The railing unwrapped from her body, reattaching itself to the stairs as she crumpled to the floor.
Her world spun as her head bounced off the stairs.
"I will hunt you down and take away everything you ever loved," she shouted as the man turned and began walking away, every piece of loose cash and anything valuable from the house floating behind him.
"You probably would if you remembered me."
As Sofia lay on the stairs, her memories began to change. She remembered members of the Maroni family attacking her home and gunning down her men before taking everything valuable in the house. They left her alive on the stairs, thinking she was not worth killing with her restricted mobility, and as a message to the other families.
–XX –
Exiting Falcone Manor, Nicholas floated into the air, the valuables he had taken from the Falcone's orbiting around him. Stopping high above the estate, he summoned the threads of the people he drained. With a force of will, he restored the bodies but put bullet holes in them and sent blood flowing from the wounds.
Once the scene was set, he continued moving away from the Manor. His next stop would be the Maroni family. He glanced at the things orbiting around him, but first, he had to get rid of this stuff.