Chapter 41: The Round Table
Iceberg Lounge, Harlem, New York
The newly acquired personas added even more to the complexities that had become the teen without memories of his past.
He had a fleeting thought and laughed. ‘What if my Personas acquisitions were making Cole Stephen.’
Farfetched? Maybe. But he wouldn’t be amiss to think of extreme possibilities of what could be the final product of who he would become.
In his moment of introspective reflection, he happened to recall something significant. He had forgotten his birthday. He had turned Sixteen.
“Happy Birthday Jeremy.” He intoned.
He hadn't known when it occurred so profoundly in thought he had been, but he had pulled out a pack of cigarettes, manipulating his newfound mutant power; his index finger sparked.
He set ablaze the cancerous stick that stuck from his pale lips. The chilling mint-flavored injection of nicotine assuaged his acquired dependency.
He studied the pack of cigarettes he unknowingly had purchased, memories arriving in his mind at the sight of the brand. Silk Cut is a brand of low-tar cigarette produced by the Gallaher Group.
Silk Cut is the preferred cigarette of choice for the occult investigator John Constantine. Years of smoking Silk Cut eventually gave John cancer.
‘No wonder he got cancer.’ Thinking about the powerful magician's health issues. He could feel his Healing Factor working, refreshing his lungs. You would think he had a spell to heal such things.
He grumbled, exasperated, but continued puffing on the therapeutic smoke, but didn't refute his need for a smoke.
‘I can repent later.’ He bargained.
He entered the living room, barechested, showing a powerful, lithe physique. He scanned the room. Anne openly gawked at him. He smiled her way. He hadn’t forgotten the girl was quite evident in her wants.
Angelica regarded him hauntingly but hadn’t looked past his eyes. He nodded, passing her, too.
Kaecillus had stationed himself near the entrance to his apartment. The man's eyes had shown surprise briefly before returning to the everyday noncommittal look he was accustomed to the man having in the movies.
The former mystic had assumed to be his protector for some reason. He hoped he hadn’t considered him weak because of the lousy showing he had help getting out of.
He grinned, feeling contentment from the relics of the York boy. Parts of the original remained, at least, the unforgiving elements.
The two men glared heatedly at each other. The Russian mutant arm grew larger as dark brown fur slowly trickled from underneath his clothes. Bullseye, on the other hand, held six blades, all ready to be launched with deadly accurate precision.
The assassin was facing me, so he had already seen my approach. The Bearman hadn’t seen me, but I knew he detected me from the spike in his fear.
He wasn’t afraid of me; he was fearful of the unknown, and he hadn’t been introduced to me, his benefactor.
Ursa Major would usually demolish someone like Bullseye, an Olympic athlete at best. In physical regards, that wasn’t so at the moment; Bullseye had access to tech and items that could take down the Russian hero quite easily.
He recalled from memories that the Russian mutant had two forms; the first was his bearman form that honestly looked more like a lycanthrope than the bear, and his second was said to be a secondary mutation of sorts. It was his bear form, a massive specimen of raw power and ferocity.
Ursa Major's restrictive neckband had been removed. He looked around, not finding who had it. He hoped it hadn't been destroyed, the technology was viable, and he wanted to Co-opt it in his organization.
Cole used a fraction of chi and flashed forward. He grumbled at having to do this. The bear man's paw fell, but Cole slapped it away at the wrist, his knuckle extended, hitting the mutant in a nerve; the offending arm fell to his side, and the mutant stumbled backward, growling a challenge.
Cole quirked a brow at the challenge. He waved his hand, exaggerating the system's warping powers as a magical trick, and the newly gained reward materialized before everyone's eyes.
“Sit,” he ordered, blowing a cloud of smoke into the face of the bear. His power unraveled from him like a layer of skin, fear exuding from him in a haze.
Ursa Major moved but halted; whatever fear the man saw manifest in Cole's eyes had changed his mind.
The fragment of fear manifested itself. The bat sat atop the back of one of the tall back chairs with the summoned table.
The table was made with aged wood. He knew the wood that made the table no longer existed; elder wood was its name, a magical wood from another realm altogether.
They all had set, each sitting in a chair that belonged to a knight of the realm table. Kaecilius studied the table in great detail, his hand hovering above the rune-etched marks, his ring glowing over each groove; he paused and looked across the table, eyes questioning me.
Cole had begun his questioning of the Russian mutant. He had learned in Russia, mutants were deemed a threat to the nation and would be killed as soon as their mutation was discovered. That led to many mutants going underground or outside of the communities, which wasn’t impossible, with the majority of Russian land being almost uninhabited.
Cole had always wondered who or what was behind the Russian government's proclamation, and he had learned that it was quite possibly not a conspiracy, just humanity fearing the unknown.
Ursa Major hadn’t been able to shed more light on the intricacies of the law. Firestar interjected, slowly raising her hand. “I could look into it if you’re interested.”
“It’s not a major issue for us.” He declined, observing her; now that he had his mutant ability, he hadn’t thought about how different their respective powers were.
She deflated. “Just trying to help.”
“I appreciate everything you do, Angelica. I need you on another project. One that is not located in another country.” He said, smiling at her.
“Wise, Master Jeremy.” Kaecillus praised.
“It could have been a sole entity or numerous entities,” Ursa said, getting us back on track.
Professor Phobos, a Russian geneticist, seemed to have convinced the Soviet government to allow him to train a select few as potential agents loyal to the government.
Ursa Major was one of the first trainees, along with Darkstar and Vanguard. As part of the Soviet Super-Soldiers, they had gone on numerous missions sponsored by the state, but the final assignment was to investigate a radioactive area.
They discovered that Phobos was attempting to irradiate the USSR to provide more mutants for him to feed off of.
“His real motive, however, was to use us to gain power for himself.” Ursa Major said, significant broad shoulder drooping.
Cole had no recollection of the Russian mutant, but it seemed the mutant in disguise had been a powerful mutant, capable of siphoning mutant powers to fuel his own.
The team had won the hard-fought battle and defeated their former leader. Unfortunately, the damage was done, and even vowing to serve the government without question hadn’t saved them from being captured and hauled away to be experimented on.
“I’m sorry you had to experience such things. I can offer means to seek revenge on your captors and potentially find your teammates if they still live.”
The moment he had offered the mutant something, he felt his power activate. He leaned forward, anticipating the answer.
“I need a moment to decide. All of this has made me tired. I need time to clear my mind, comrade.” He replied in heavily accented Russian.
Pity. He thought as he recalled his ability and slid back into his seat.
Cole had brought the table out to instill camaraderie, yet he felt their problems, unique as his own, made them even more apart than he assumed. He looked around at the current members he had. Each had its problems and origins that were still beginning. He sighed, leaning back, legs crossed.
The problem he had at the moment was The Hand issue was unsolved, but the mysterious group had been quiet, and his programs in place hadn’t spotted unearthed any worth his attention outside of their usual crimes.
He added them to the list of things he would go over. He needed to reevaluate his earlier assessment. He looked across the table at Anne; she and Angelica were in a heated debate about individual group makeup, the fire-powered mutant refusing to be considered still.
He looked up from his cup of tea made and offered by the former master of mysticism.
Oddly, the emancipated hand that was cut from him was also offered. He had no idea what he was supposed to do with it.
Weirdly, he felt some mystical energies emanating
from it. He was intrigued. The hand had been severed from him in his ectoplasmic form. He looked at his wrist and twirled it, which looked and worked like it should.
Speaking of the magical, it was past due time he used the key to the house of secrets.
Kaecilius cleared his throat. “Master-
Cole raised his hand, silencing the man. He had already explained to him that he wouldn’t take the ring back; he had no reason to.
Even though he chose the man on a whim, there was another reason he didn’t mind the man having the ring: he needed more minions, and who better to train him in the mystical arts than the former master?
He opened his palm, and another ring appeared in his hand. Kevin squirmed in his pilfered chair, the large teen deciding not to sit at the table holding all his current members.
‘I understand, Master.’
The former master stood and walked to stand behind Cole. He inwardly sighed at the man. What did he understand? He didn’t want a servant. He let it go.
The Red Lantern was quite frankly powerful, or he would be eventually. Their connection is so intense that he has trouble determining if the system has altered the man's mind. He hadn’t even felt inclined to contract the man; the ability hadn’t given him the inclination he even
need to.
Bullseye scoffed and folded his arms, tired of listening to the girl's argument.
He placed the ring on his finger, feeling the call once again. He stamped down on it, not wanting to add further complications. He understood that Kecillius, unlike him, had undergone the complete overhaul of a Red Lantern.
The man had almost red-tinted skin, fiery ruby orbs that hid behind 18th-century bifocals, and then there was the man's lantern that looked like a balloon with flames inside it.
Cole refocused. He hadn’t forgotten his promise to Bullseye.
“Pointdexter, you have a choice to make. Either you take this. The centipede serum appeared in his hand.”
He had sold some to the shop, giving the rest to the doctor. Cole decided to explain the difference between the two, knowing Bullseye was at least aware of the super soldier serums.
Kevin stood, understanding what he had immediately. Cole's eyes landed on the teen, considering something else entirely.
Bullseye eyed the serum before he sighed. “I’ll wait. But it would be best if you hurried this up. You promised me new heights, and I’m itching to see them.”
Cole laughed loudly at the subtly veiled threat; Kaecilius had tensed but refrained from engaging.
“No worries, my contracts have away fulfilling themselves in due time.” He replied, steel grey eyes boring into the man.
What would the penalty be for betrayal? Probably something not pleasant with the system being involved.
Iwalkthestars appreciate the views and the constructive criticism. Once again, I apologize for bad grammar and typos, and misspellings thank you for reading, Please rate and comment
Chapter 41: The Round Table
Iceberg Lounge, Harlem, New York
The newly acquired personas added even more to the complexities that had become the teen without memories of his past.
He had a fleeting thought and laughed. ‘What if my Personas acquisitions were making Cole Stephen.’
Farfetched? Maybe. But he wouldn’t be amiss to think of extreme possibilities of what could be the final product of who he would become.
In his moment of introspective reflection, he happened to recall something significant. He had forgotten his birthday. He had turned Sixteen.
“Happy Birthday Jeremy.” He intoned.
He hadn't known when it occurred so profoundly in thought he had been, but he had pulled out a pack of cigarettes, manipulating his newfound mutant power; his index finger sparked.
He set ablaze the cancerous stick that stuck from his pale lips. The chilling mint-flavored injection of nicotine assuaged his acquired dependency.
He studied the pack of cigarettes he unknowingly had purchased, memories arriving in his mind at the sight of the brand. Silk Cut is a brand of low-tar cigarette produced by the Gallaher Group.
Silk Cut is the preferred cigarette of choice for the occult investigator John Constantine. Years of smoking Silk Cut eventually gave John cancer.
‘No wonder he got cancer.’ Thinking about the powerful magician's health issues. He could feel his Healing Factor working, refreshing his lungs. You would think he had a spell to heal such things.
He grumbled, exasperated, but continued puffing on the therapeutic smoke, but didn't refute his need for a smoke.
‘I can repent later.’ He bargained.
He entered the living room, barechested, showing a powerful, lithe physique. He scanned the room. Anne openly gawked at him. He smiled her way. He hadn’t forgotten the girl was quite evident in her wants.
Angelica regarded him hauntingly but hadn’t looked past his eyes. He nodded, passing her, too.
Kaecillus had stationed himself near the entrance to his apartment. The man's eyes had shown surprise briefly before returning to the everyday noncommittal look he was accustomed to the man having in the movies.
The former mystic had assumed to be his protector for some reason. He hoped he hadn’t considered him weak because of the lousy showing he had help getting out of.
He grinned, feeling contentment from the relics of the York boy. Parts of the original remained, at least, the unforgiving elements.
The two men glared heatedly at each other. The Russian mutant arm grew larger as dark brown fur slowly trickled from underneath his clothes. Bullseye, on the other hand, held six blades, all ready to be launched with deadly accurate precision.
The assassin was facing me, so he had already seen my approach. The Bearman hadn’t seen me, but I knew he detected me from the spike in his fear.
He wasn’t afraid of me; he was fearful of the unknown, and he hadn’t been introduced to me, his benefactor.
Ursa Major would usually demolish someone like Bullseye, an Olympic athlete at best. In physical regards, that wasn’t so at the moment; Bullseye had access to tech and items that could take down the Russian hero quite easily.
He recalled from memories that the Russian mutant had two forms; the first was his bearman form that honestly looked more like a lycanthrope than the bear, and his second was said to be a secondary mutation of sorts. It was his bear form, a massive specimen of raw power and ferocity.
Ursa Major's restrictive neckband had been removed. He looked around, not finding who had it. He hoped it hadn't been destroyed, the technology was viable, and he wanted to Co-opt it in his organization.
Cole used a fraction of chi and flashed forward. He grumbled at having to do this. The bear man's paw fell, but Cole slapped it away at the wrist, his knuckle extended, hitting the mutant in a nerve; the offending arm fell to his side, and the mutant stumbled backward, growling a challenge.
Cole quirked a brow at the challenge. He waved his hand, exaggerating the system's warping powers as a magical trick, and the newly gained reward materialized before everyone's eyes.
“Sit,” he ordered, blowing a cloud of smoke into the face of the bear. His power unraveled from him like a layer of skin, fear exuding from him in a haze.
Ursa Major moved but halted; whatever fear the man saw manifest in Cole's eyes had changed his mind.
The fragment of fear manifested itself. The bat sat atop the back of one of the tall back chairs with the summoned table.
The table was made with aged wood. He knew the wood that made the table no longer existed; elder wood was its name, a magical wood from another realm altogether.
They all had set, each sitting in a chair that belonged to a knight of the realm table. Kaecilius studied the table in great detail, his hand hovering above the rune-etched marks, his ring glowing over each groove; he paused and looked across the table, eyes questioning me.
Cole had begun his questioning of the Russian mutant. He had learned in Russia, mutants were deemed a threat to the nation and would be killed as soon as their mutation was discovered. That led to many mutants going underground or outside of the communities, which wasn’t impossible, with the majority of Russian land being almost uninhabited.
Cole had always wondered who or what was behind the Russian government's proclamation, and he had learned that it was quite possibly not a conspiracy, just humanity fearing the unknown.
Ursa Major hadn’t been able to shed more light on the intricacies of the law. Firestar interjected, slowly raising her hand. “I could look into it if you’re interested.”
“It’s not a major issue for us.” He declined, observing her; now that he had his mutant ability, he hadn’t thought about how different their respective powers were.
She deflated. “Just trying to help.”
“I appreciate everything you do, Angelica. I need you on another project. One that is not located in another country.” He said, smiling at her.
“Wise, Master Jeremy.” Kaecillus praised.
“It could have been a sole entity or numerous entities,” Ursa said, getting us back on track.
Professor Phobos, a Russian geneticist, seemed to have convinced the Soviet government to allow him to train a select few as potential agents loyal to the government.
Ursa Major was one of the first trainees, along with Darkstar and Vanguard. As part of the Soviet Super-Soldiers, they had gone on numerous missions sponsored by the state, but the final assignment was to investigate a radioactive area.
They discovered that Phobos was attempting to irradiate the USSR to provide more mutants for him to feed off of.
“His real motive, however, was to use us to gain power for himself.” Ursa Major said, significant broad shoulder drooping.
Cole had no recollection of the Russian mutant, but it seemed the mutant in disguise had been a powerful mutant, capable of siphoning mutant powers to fuel his own.
The team had won the hard-fought battle and defeated their former leader. Unfortunately, the damage was done, and even vowing to serve the government without question hadn’t saved them from being captured and hauled away to be experimented on.
“I’m sorry you had to experience such things. I can offer means to seek revenge on your captors and potentially find your teammates if they still live.”
The moment he had offered the mutant something, he felt his power activate. He leaned forward, anticipating the answer.
“I need a moment to decide. All of this has made me tired. I need time to clear my mind, comrade.” He replied in heavily accented Russian.
Pity. He thought as he recalled his ability and slid back into his seat.
Cole had brought the table out to instill camaraderie, yet he felt their problems, unique as his own, made them even more apart than he assumed. He looked around at the current members he had. Each had its problems and origins that were still beginning. He sighed, leaning back, legs crossed.
The problem he had at the moment was The Hand issue was unsolved, but the mysterious group had been quiet, and his programs in place hadn’t spotted unearthed any worth his attention outside of their usual crimes.
He added them to the list of things he would go over. He needed to reevaluate his earlier assessment. He looked across the table at Anne; she and Angelica were in a heated debate about individual group makeup, the fire-powered mutant refusing to be considered still.
He looked up from his cup of tea made and offered by the former master of mysticism.
Oddly, the emancipated hand that was cut from him was also offered. He had no idea what he was supposed to do with it.
Weirdly, he felt some mystical energies emanating
from it. He was intrigued. The hand had been severed from him in his ectoplasmic form. He looked at his wrist and twirled it, which looked and worked like it should.
Speaking of the magical, it was past due time he used the key to the house of secrets.
Kaecilius cleared his throat. “Master-
Cole raised his hand, silencing the man. He had already explained to him that he wouldn’t take the ring back; he had no reason to.
Even though he chose the man on a whim, there was another reason he didn’t mind the man having the ring: he needed more minions, and who better to train him in the mystical arts than the former master?
He opened his palm, and another ring appeared in his hand. Kevin squirmed in his pilfered chair, the large teen deciding not to sit at the table holding all his current members.
‘I understand, Master.’
The former master stood and walked to stand behind Cole. He inwardly sighed at the man. What did he understand? He didn’t want a servant. He let it go.
The Red Lantern was quite frankly powerful, or he would be eventually. Their connection is so intense that he has trouble determining if the system has altered the man's mind. He hadn’t even felt inclined to contract the man; the ability hadn’t given him the inclination he even
need to.
Bullseye scoffed and folded his arms, tired of listening to the girl's argument.
He placed the ring on his finger, feeling the call once again. He stamped down on it, not wanting to add further complications. He understood that Kecillius, unlike him, had undergone the complete overhaul of a Red Lantern.
The man had almost red-tinted skin, fiery ruby orbs that hid behind 18th-century bifocals, and then there was the man's lantern that looked like a balloon with flames inside it.
Cole refocused. He hadn’t forgotten his promise to Bullseye.
“Pointdexter, you have a choice to make. Either you take this. The centipede serum appeared in his hand.”
He had sold some to the shop, giving the rest to the doctor. Cole decided to explain the difference between the two, knowing Bullseye was at least aware of the super soldier serums.
Kevin stood, understanding what he had immediately. Cole's eyes landed on the teen, considering something else entirely.
Bullseye eyed the serum before he sighed. “I’ll wait. But it would be best if you hurried this up. You promised me new heights, and I’m itching to see them.”
Cole laughed loudly at the subtly veiled threat; Kaecilius had tensed but refrained from engaging.
“No worries, my contracts have away fulfilling themselves in due time.” He replied, steel grey eyes boring into the man.
What would the penalty be for betrayal? Probably something not pleasant with the system being involved.
Iwalkthestars appreciate the views and the constructive criticism. Once again, I apologize for bad grammar and typos, and misspellings thank you for reading, Please rate and comment
