A week had passed since that fateful day. Aside from Derrek’s hair, nearly everything stayed the same. He started his days exercising with Jeffrey, now fully able to keep pace with him and even able to completely lap him several times over, but he consistently opted to keep pace to avoid raising suspicion. Discord joined them on Monday, but after five minutes of running (in his normal clothes, no less) he got bored and said he would catch up after Derrek got back from work. He didn’t join them again.
Work had been going smoothly, aside from the expected questions about his hair. Luckily for him, however, everyone bought it, although Derrek was suspicious that Gary wasn’t fully convinced. Although, considering he hadn’t heard a single word from him in the two weeks they had been working together, he was confident it wasn’t going to be a problem. His team had met their quota for the entire trip by Thursday, which they were expected to meet on Wednesday of the following week. Despite this, nobody saw it as an excuse to slack off, and they resolved to keep their productivity up despite meeting their goals.
He spent the majority of his time outside of work with Discord, mainly at bars or training in the woods. His reflexes were improving, and he was getting used to using a weapon. His wounds healed quickly, even when he slipped up and took a slash full force over his arm, he was back and swinging in minutes and healed over with nothing but a scar over the next couple of days. Even though he was getting acclimated to his new enhanced physical capabilities, he still wasn’t able to control his Devourer abilities. He had tried several times over the week, mainly trying to absorb trees and small insects with limited success to say the least. But at this particular moment, Derrek was helping pack up the GENRAM for the weekend. He had just secured his corner of the tarp they wrapped around it when he felt a slap on his back.
“Feeling alright, young buck?’
He turned around to find Hanna standing before him, concern on her face.
“Yeah, why?”
“You’ve been different, and I don’t just mean the hair. You’re kinda distant. You aren’t talking as much. I dunno. You just seem off lately.”
“Oh, well … I’ve been on a new diet.”
He knew it wasn’t a great lie, but he hoped it would work. He didn’t like having to lie, but there was no chance he could be honest.
“Diet, huh? Is paleo making a comeback?”
“Don’t know, mine is all about, uh, portion control. Yeah, reducing intake by half, it’s supposed to extend cell life.”
Hanna eyed him over from head to toe, not seeing any indication he had slimmed down. However, according to him, he had just started the diet, and since he already had a slender form, a diet might not show right away. She didn’t fully believe him, but the story made enough sense that she accepted it.
“Well don’t go overboard with it, I’ve heard horror stories of people who get way too absorbed in their diets.”
“Thanks, I appreciate your concern, but I think I’ve got a handle on it.”
Hanna smiled and began to walk off before turning back around and saying, “Oh yeah, Amir wanted to talk to you. Said something about the hotel—I don’t know.”
She then went to help Joey and Ann, who were in the process of wheeling the GENRAM away, and Derrek made his way to the cars, where Amir was going through a large stack of papers on his clipboard. He hadn’t noticed Derrek for several seconds after he walked up and continued to remain ignorant of his presence until he let out a short cough.
“Ah, Derrek, just the man I was looking for.”
“Yes, sir. What did you need?”
“There was an inquiry made about how long you will be staying at the Schadenfreude, and I just wanted to make sure I gave the right answer.”
“Oh? Who was it who asked?”
“I probably should not say, but …” He leaned in close to Derrek and whispered, “It was Mr. Shale.”
Derrek was suddenly nervous. Up to that point, the only person he was sure knew about his relationship with Shale was Jeffrey, and he wasn’t sure how much Amir knew.
“Oh, what did he say?” he asked, remaining calm.
“He said you had yet to take any vacation days for this period and that if you were to extend your stay, there would be no complications on corporate’s end. You would simply have to get your arrangements in order with the hotel and inform either Ms. Shepherd or Mr. Philman.”
Derrek thought about it for a few seconds and realized it might be a good idea to take some time to commit himself to training. He had the vacation days, and it could be dangerous to go home before getting his powers under control.
“Huh,” he said, “I’ll have to give that some thought.”
Amir nodded. “Be sure to make your decision before we leave next Friday.” He looked over Derrek’s shoulder near the Conex, where he saw Joey and Steven struggling to close the doors. “Could you be so kind as to give them a hand? I need to get these sorted out,” he said, gesturing to his papers.
Derrek nodded and went to help them. The GENRAM was sticking almost a foot out from the Conex, preventing the doors from being closed. Realizing it must be pushing into something, Derrek took the initiative and pulled the GENRAM out single-handedly, surprising Joey and Steven, who had used everything they had to get it in there.
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In the back of the Conex, there was a heavily dented cardboard box directly in the path of the GENRAM, labeled “Nets.” Derrek, assuming they were the nets used in their traps for small mammals, picked it up and set it aside, clearing the way. He effortlessly pushed the GENRAM back up the ramp and into the Conex, closed the doors, and locked it as Joey and Steven stared at him in awe.
Derrek still wasn’t sure what the extent of his new physical abilities were, but he knew the GENRAM took a minimum of two people to move; the company handbook dictated four. He looked over at the men who were staring at him and slowly raised his arms in a victorious pose, which was met with uproarious applause from the two.
“Damn, dude,” Steven said. “What do you lift? Elephants?”
“Yeah man,” Joey said, “you gotta tell us your routine. If I can make gains like that, I’ll be a friggin’ beast!”
“Well,” Derrek began as the two men scrambled to find something to write with, quickly finding the markers in the pockets of their uniforms and writing directly on their gloves, “I start every morning with a ten-mile run. After that, I do a hundred push-ups, eighty jumping jacks, and fifty sit-ups.”
The men hung on his every word, surprised that was where he stopped talking.
“Is … is that all?” Joey asked.
“That’s all I’ve been doing.”
“For how long?”
“About three weeks now.”
Steven chimed in. “So, you got this strong in that short period just with that routine?”
“Well, everybody’s metabolism is different.”
Joey and Steven started nodding and agreeing, completely convinced. Derrek didn’t feel too bad about what he said, as it was technically the truth, even if he didn’t add that he had more than just his metabolism working for him in that department.
“Hey,” Derrek said, interrupting their quiet pow-wow, “I haven’t been working out on the weekends, but you guys are welcome to join me Monday morning.”
Without so much as a moment of hesitation, both of them exclaimed, “Yes!” and began slapping Derrek on the back, giving him high-fives and going on about how he was a true bro.
After locking up the Conex, everyone put away their uniforms and loaded up for the ride back to the hotel. Aside from Joey and Steven insisting that they ride with Derrek, pestering him with questions about his workout, the drive had gone the same as the previous dozen. When they arrived, everyone did as they normally did: split off and spend the night their own way. Derrek went to his room, half expecting Discord to be inside, raiding the minibar and watching Kuchenparty, but when he opened the door, he was met with a pristine room. Ever since Mila arranged for his continued stay, her staff had been paying special attention to him and his room, and it seemed housekeeping would step in every time he stepped out. He didn’t mind too much since they always left a mint on his pillow.
He sat on his bed and heard a crinkle from underneath him, prompting him to stand. He saw a freshly crumpled sheet of paper at the foot of his bed that read as follows:
Ate all the chocolate almonds in your fridge. Meet me on the roof when you can. I got my hands on some pretty cool stuff.
—DC
Underneath the message was a crudely drawn picture of what Derrek gathered to be a dog wearing sunglasses riding either a skateboard or a surfboard—he wasn’t quite sure—but he didn’t want to keep Discord waiting. He quickly changed his clothes, made his way to the elevator, and rode it to the roof. As soon as the doors opened, he was hit with a wafting stink reminding him of a skunk. After reacting to the initial stench, he looked around to find a man in a red coat with his back to him leaning over the railing, smoke billowing from in front of him.
“Jesus, Discord, what is that stench?” Derrek asked as he made his approach, covering his nose and mouth with his shirt. After getting a better look, he saw Discord was holding what looked like a rolled cigarette, except it was the size of a cigar, which he was in the middle of taking a long drag from.
After finishing his inhale, he held up a finger, gesturing for Derrek to wait. A full ten seconds passed, and Discord let out his breath, releasing a wave of smoke as a dragon would release a rush of fire. He coughed slightly, which surprised Derrek, who had seen him take a knife to the forehead without so much as flinching.
“Grade-A Algonquian kush,” he said, reaching toward Derrek with the joint. “Want a puff?”
“I think I’ll pass,” Derrek said through his coughs, as he was now downwind of the smoke.
“Come on, Havok. You don’t have any idea how long you’ve got. Your life could end at any second in a million different ways, from undiagnosed brain aneurysms to rogue space trash making its way through the atmosphere. Humans—or former-humans, in your case—owe it to themselves to give everything that comes their way a fair shake, especially in your case. I mean, if you ever lose control, I’ll have to put you down, which is a threat very few people have to worry about. Give it a try.”
Derrek was suddenly reminded of the scores of waivers he signed the week before that had told him the hundreds of ways he could die and how prepared for his death Frostbyte was. Especially now that he knew alcohol had practically no effect on him now, he decided to heed Discord’s advice and accepted the unwieldy cigarette.
Discord cracked a half-smile. “Just make sure you inhale. It won’t do jack if you just hold it in your mouth.”
Derrek slowly put the joint to his mouth and inhaled, feeling the burning-hot smoke within his lungs. He held it for as long as he could, then released it all in a violent coughing fit. He handed it back to Discord and keeled over, holding onto the railing for support.
“Yeah, it has a bit of a kick to it,” Discord said before taking another drag. “That might just be the sage, though.”
Between his coughs, Derrek managed to ask, “Sage?”
“Yep, that was about half sage.”
His coughing worsened, and he felt himself getting lightheaded. His field of vision was beginning to narrow, and he fell to his knees, still gripping the rail, trying to pull himself up.
“Funny thing about sage. It’s great for clearing bad juju out of wherever it’s being burned but practically toxic to spectral beings when inhaled.”
Derrek was dry-heaving from his coughing but had nothing to expel and continued to suffer through his lack of air. The world around him was getting quieter and blurrier.
“Ghosts, banshees, and especially …”
Derrek looked up at Discord, seeing the cold look in his eyes, the complete lack of empathy chilling him to the bone. He felt a rush of emotions; anger, betrayal, sadness, and rage washed over him for a brief moment before everything faded to black, leaving nothing but a voice.
“Reapers.”