Friday, March 16h, 2029

JOHN

I don’t want to be here, not again. I open my eyes—realizing I’m actually awake, but in a pitch black room. It’s like nothing had changed from when I had them closed. I try to feel my way around, but it seems I'm shackled to the wall. My voice doesn’t come when I try to call out. Silence reigns. I can't just be here forever. I can't stand being in confined. My head is pounding. Time doesn’t exist...I sit in this hellhole for what seems like hours, slipping in and out of consciousness. I can't tell what's real or fake anymore. Time doesn’t seem to have any meaning anymore. Who’s to say what a second or an hour is when your only reference is darkness? Everything is one time; now.

Finally I see a light—a door opens on the other side of the room. A chilling hum reverberates around me. It sounds familiar, like it’s on the tip of my tongue. I then recognize it as a man’s voice. "Welcome to my world of darkness, Jonathan,” the voice says, a bit clearer this time.

“D-Don’t call me J-Jonathan,” I mutter out, finding my voice. It’s a lot more strained than I originally thought. “What do you mean about a world of darkness?”

“I mean just that. It’s dark in here. I thought that was easy enough to understand. Maybe the drugs haven’t worn off yet,” the voice says, laughing. It’s the voice that I heard in the courtroom...it must be Micah.

"W-Where am I? Where's...Sarah? What'd you do to me?" I ask.

He sighs. "We had to give you a sedative to keep you from being a pain. Well, more than you already are.”

"A little of what?" I ask.

"Well, what would be the fun in telling you? I mean, that’s how you would get me to stall so you could find some way out, is that not true?"

“Where am I?” I continue, ignoring his question.

"Unimportant."

"Where am I?!" I ask again, my voice growing hoarser each time.

He sighs again. "You’re in custody."

“That’s not what I mean,” I say, aggravated.

“You asked me where you were and I told you. Who am I but a proper host?” the voice asks. "Ah, I see you're regaining all of your senses, great," he says with delight. “Your skills at playing “Guess Who” are a little lacking based on context clues. I would definitely refrain from picking you if I had a choice of partners.

"What do you want with me?" I ask.

“That's the line everybody who gets kidnapped says, isn't it?” He starts. “Oh, what do you want with me? What could I have done to possibly deserve this?” He mimics in a high pitch. "I believe you already know, John. You spoke with Reinhardt, didn't you?"

"You cannot expect me to go along with a plan that condemns the human race! That's absurd!"

“Ha! So you do know!”

“Wh...what?”

“I was proving a point. That your asking of questions is unneeded.”This guy's a pedantic. "John, it isn't as black and white as you think it is. And if you really think you have a choice in the matter, well, you’re crazier than I am."

"It may not, but you can’t kill everyone just because of-"

"Just because of what? You really think you’re going to convince me of anything, sleeping beauty? Fat chance."

“I’d hope that you’d see reason when he is obviously going to trash you later,” I say, looking away.

I feel Micah’s hand grab my chin and pull me forward, so I can see the slits of the mask up close and personal. “I’d think not. I’d also like to think you’d rather worry about your own situation rather than mine,” Micah says.

"I...I don't understand. None of this is making any sense."

"You will understand within time, do not worry. Why spoil the fun now?” he says, shoving my head back. My head smacks against the wall behind me and I can see stars in my vision.

"And what of everyone else?” I ask, my vision clearing up.

“The others are unimportant. Reinhardt sees the purpose in only you."

"That purpose would be...what exactly?"

“I already told you I wasn’t going be spoiling any of the surprises, didn’t I? What do you take me for, some two-bit amateur?” He fixes his collar, kneels down to my eye level. "Now, do try to get some sleep. It's going to be a long ride." He rustles my hair and gives off a small chuckle. He stands back up and walks towards the exit of the room. The light in the room is snuffed out as soon as he leaves. I’m left in the blinding darkness and I’ve nobody to talk to.

Then again, it isn’t like I’m used to being with other people. Another light enters my vision and then I look to see my watch on my wrist, its face glowing green. I hadn’t even remembered to put it on, how did that get there? Surely it was still with the rest of my things back in the courtroom? I look down at myself and sure enough I’m still in the orange jumpsuit from before. I cannot reach around to change the display, so all I can see is the display of the random numbers.

It seems to be rising, but it seems like it went really low. It was just at 10 not a moment ago, but now it’s gone up to 11 and then 12. An indefinite amount of time later I can see it’s risen to 50 and even longer it’s stretched all the way to 190. Maybe it’s searching for something? It could be like, sensing how close I am to something? A familiar voice appears in my head. “This is but a prologue, John. You have much, much more to learn.”

“What are...how are you even communicating with me?” I ask.

“It all began the moment you stepped in the middle of my three towers. I had the head puppet here install them so that I could begin our link.”

“Link? Like...a telepathic link?” I ask.

“It is so much more. You wonder about your leg wound? The one that happened in the car crash? When you next woke up it was completely healed.”

“Wh-What? Did you have something to do with that?”

“I gave you a gift to heal your body. Your cells now have regenerative properties that when left alone heal wounds.”

“This…is also how my head wound healed, right after that link?”

“It is. It is also how you’ve been seeing these dreams, I’ve been transmitting them to you. I’ve been doing so for a very long time, but you’ve only recently grew into the ability to receive them.”

“And you did the same with Sarah?”

“I needed to organize some sort of union in hopes Micah would grab you both, but it is fine with just you.”

The silence returns. I’m glad. I don’t want him to talk to me. I don’t want him to be in my head, any of it. I slink back against the wall and pull my knees close. I look down at my watch again at the random numbers, it shows 2770. What? How could it have risen so far so fast?

My eyes open suddenly and I'm sitting upright in a chair in the middle of a square shaped confined room. How did I get here? Or…have I been here the whole time? No, I was chained to a wall just a moment ago. I was certain I didn’t close my eyes either, so how did I do this? Or maybe…did Reinhardt take control for a time? I try to stand up, but I find that my wrists are bound to the armrests on the chair. It’s always something. The walls are all white, the floor is white and I’m not even sure what is behind me but I can guess it is white too. Whoever designed this place must either really like white, or I’m in some sort of mental ward. Maybe it’s both.

I'm greeted by laughter as another man, one who I’m unfamiliar with as he strides in from behind. He wears a face of confidence and a bit of arrogance. He stands tall with short brown hair cut close to his head.

"So, you are the John I keep hearing about," he says, his voice octaves below my own.

“Now who are you? I’m sick of waking up to all these strange old men,” I say.

His eyes are dark and mysterious. I have to blink to make sure I’m not missing anything, but his pupils are actually white. They’re a shade darker than the rest of his eyes, but it’s really freaky looking. He looks to be in his mid-fifties. He’s wearing a black suit and long black pants. Not everything is black and white? The wardrobe design for these guys seems to be. He remains stone faced and walks right up to me. He bends down until he is at eye level with me. I feel his breath on my face.

“You're in the presence of Oliver Avery, commanding officer and ruling president of these United States. I would certainly hope that you would show some respect,” he says.

“Where? I’d love to meet him,” I say, sarcastically. He punches me in the gut and I can feel the air leave my body.

“You’re looking at him,” the man says.

“H-Huh, a little more...wrinkled than I would have imagined our dictator to be,” I say. This is why I don't do sarcasm. I'm shit at it. That little voice in your head that normally tells you to avoid saying stupid things...I think mine’s broken right now. I just can’t stop saying them. There’s something else that seems fishy in all of this, though. I just can’t put my finger on it.

“You know, Micah informed me about your little friends. Feel free to keep up the act while they suffer because of your lack of respect,” he says.

“Wait a minute, I thought something was odd. Don’t you have a bounty or something on Micah’s head? Now you’re working together?” I ask.

Oliver cracks a remnant of a smile. “That had been the original plan. I’d intended to have the rebel locked up for his actions, but he showed me something that had proven his usefulness.”

“What would that be?” I ask.

“You have a knack at getting people to talk, you know that, boy?”

“Well, you don’t give me anything else to do, maybe once we’re done chit-chatting we can go play some pool or something,” I say. Why do I keep doing that? I can’t control the words coming out of my own mouth. This isn’t me...is this Reinhardt’s doing? I have a bad feeling about all of this. Maybe he’s stopped talking to me because he’s figured out how to talk through me. I shudder at the thought.

“At first, I thought his ramblings about his god or whatever to be trivial, but minds change, John. Things aren't as-"

"Black and white as I think. You’re not the first person to tell me that today.”

"I experienced a dream with Reinhardt and he showed me the way. I understand my place, as should you. You are an essential part to the human cleansing process.”

"Now, I’m sure you know that you would be...cleansed as well? It’s not a good cleansing, either,” I explain.

Oliver chuckles. “It is too late for us, we’ve corrupted too much.”

I’m not going to get anywhere with this argument. "Tough luck. I refuse to be part of anything that kills so many people."

"It never was your choice to be made."

"What do you mean? I thought you said that I was the key to all of this?"

“Yes, you are, but you aren’t. Your spirit is not required once we’re finished. You must know of your power?”

“What do you know of it?” I ask.

“Only what the good lord has told me. Your power was given to you because you were chosen. There were others before you. They were unfit to serve the good lord, but you’re different.”

“How’s that?” I ask.

“That is yet to be told,” Oliver says.

“What? So you don’t even know?” I ask.

“You have to have a little faith in the good lord, John.”

“Your faith will lead you to your death! You and anyone who follows him, hahah!” I burst out laughing, on the outside at least. How horrible, he’s telling him straight to his face that his faith is worthless and I have to sit here and watch it all unfold. “You have the premium tickets, front row seats and backstage passes to all that is going to unfold.”

Oliver looks down at me with his stone-faced stare. I feel a sharp jab in my neck, but a gloved hand covers it whole. He bends down right beside me and cracks another half-smile. “It’s time to complete the connection.”

SARAH

Andy’s car is parked on the third level of the parking garage just across from the courthouse. The car is a red 2020 ZX Hybrid. He says it’s the fastest that’s ever been allowed on the streets. I couldn’t even begin to tell you what made it different from any other sports-car-like vehicle.

“It’s not technically my car,” he says. “Jay’s got it in his name, but he’s not the biggest fan of driving, so it’s basically my car.” He takes out the keys from his pocket and unlocks the car.

“I have one question. Are we...going to be returning home anytime soon?” I ask. “My...uh, Mom doesn’t know anything about any of this.”

“If we don’t hurry and stop this doomsday then you won’t have a home to return to,” Gavin says.

“There’s no need to be such a downer, Gavin,” Lindsey says. “You have a choice,” she looks at me. “You always have a choice.”

“I...I’m sorry.” Gavin starts, “I didn’t mean to make it sound like that...we’re not kidnapping you or anything.”

“No, no I know.” I say. “We do need to save John...I’m just...I don’t know, worried.”

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“Do you have a phone?” Lindsey asks.

“I do, but my Mom doesn’t. She hates them,” I say, and then look down to the ground, “Let’s...let’s just go. I’ll see her when we get John back. I don’t want to hold us up anymore.”

“What about you?” Andy asks, looking to Iris.

“I’m down, a hundred percent.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, told my parents I was staying at your place for the weekend.”

“What if this lasts past the weekend?” I ask.

She shrugs, “I’ll think of something.”

“Last chance, you guys good?” Andy asks.

“Yes,” we both say. I can feel my worry rising up, my conscience, I guess. It’s obviously dangerous, but...I feel like it’s what I have to do.

Andy nods and opens the back door, “After you, then.”

Iris slides in first and finds a spot in the middle, leaving Gavin and me to the sides. Andy hops into the driver’s seat and Lindsey climbs in shotgun. He thrusts the car on and into ignition and he backs out of the parking space.

“So where are we going?” Iris asks. “Do we actually know where they’ve taken John?”

“That’s what we’re going to find out,” Andy says, pulling out onto the street. “First we’re going to regroup with Jay, then we’ll figure out what to do from there.”

“It’s just so strange,” I say, “that everything is going the way it’s going—so fast.”

“Yeah tell me about it,” Gavin says. “It’s hard to imagine not thinking about it. It’s like once it gets a hold of you it never let’s go.”

“Gavin, would it be possible to not talk about it for maybe the rest of the ride?” Lindsey asks. “Honestly, I’m sick of hearing about the end of the world. There’s plenty of time to worry about that and we are going to stop it. But I can’t deal with every conversation between any of us to be just about this virus. It isn’t us and it isn’t who we are.” She rests her head on her arm and sits back in her seat. It is a tense silence and it remains for what seems like forever. “Look, I’ll start by changing the subject,” she begins. “Sarah, what’s your passion?” She asks, turning around in her seat.

“I..uh, I draw. I do it a lot. Back in my house…in my room I have a bunch of sketches of various drawings. Some of them aren’t going to ever get finished, but sometimes it doesn’t matter.”

“Yeah?”

I take a breath and nod, “I remember this one time from my childhood very clearly. I was about six years old and my mom had caught me drawing on the walls. It seems silly now, but I think that’s the maddest I’ve ever seen her. It’s still so fresh in my mind and I like to think of it when this gets to be a bit much,” I say.

Lindsey nods, “See? We can have a normal conversation, talking about our lives and such. It doesn’t all need to revolve around this one man. Iris, how about you?”

Iris looks at me and then down at the floor. “Well, life before all of this was kind of hard,” she begins. “I’m sorry for kinda bringing that nice story down.”

“You were sitting alone on my first day of school,” I remember.

“Yeah, I’m not very popular. I kind of scare some people off.”

“You certainly scared off Steve in art my first day,” I say, giggling.

“Listen, all I said was that I’d persuade him to move his seat,” she says, holding her hands up.

“Why were you alone?” Gavin interrupts.

“What?” Iris asks.

“In school,” Gavin says.

“Well, I kind of come on a little bit strong, I know this. It’s just who I am. That with the fact I kind of had visions of grandeur in school. I’d go against the crowd to believe that something greater was out there for me,” she says. “Of course...that kind of put me in an awkward spot in high school, so I’d been outcasted. Nobody really talked to me unless they were making a joke. ‘Watch out for Iris, her attitude is so sharp it’ll cut you in half!’” She mimics.

“Wow, I had no idea,” I say.

“And then Sarah came into your life,” Lindsey says.

“She’s been my first friend in a long while and I’m glad she showed up when she did. I’d gotten so sick of everyone being against me. I’d hoped and wished for just one person to stand with me. I’d hoped that someone would take me away from the life of loneliness and worthlessness.”

“Is that why you had believed all of this Radical-9 business so quickly?” I ask.

“I had always believed that there was something out there that needed me. Something at all that I could do to be of any help whatsoever. Of course, this was the furthest thing from my mind. I mean, all of this does sound out there. I don’t think I would have believed you if I didn’t believe in myself. I have this little voice in my head that keeps telling me to go on, to keep believing in this. I believe that this all is it. I want to prevent the world from ending,” she says, plainly, then looks to Lindsey, “Sorry for redirecting it back to this.”

She nods, then looks down, “...bound to happen sooner than later anyway.”

“Not all of us have the pleasure of thinking of it as before and after the virus,” Gavin says.

“What do you mean?” Iris asks.

“The virus may not be who you are, but it is who I am. It’s affected every single aspect of my life since I was born—my family, my friends my—” he catches himself, “You don’t know how it feels having everything inside of you feel like it’s wrong. To feel like what you’re thinking is wrong and to feel like your whole existence is wrong.”

“Gavin, that’s enough,” Andy cuts in. “You don’t need to lash out on Lindsey or any of us for that matter. We’re here for you and I do know what you’re talking about. You aren’t alone in this and you need to realize that.”

Lindsey looks up, “I’m sorry that my problems aren’t as important as yours or Andy’s or Sarah’s because they’re caused by Radical-9. One thing I’ve learned about all of this is that the past is past. You have to look for the good in the present and hold onto that or else your feelings will drown you headfirst.”

Gavin looks straight ahead for a second. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insinuate that you or your problems are any less than ours,” he says.

It is silent again, my hands are tense. I don’t know what to say in this situation...nothing, right? Or do I become the positive person to uplift everyone? Do I know them enough for that? Do I have to be? I don’t—

Lindsey sighs, “I’m sorry for going about this the wrong way. It’s just…things have been so hard, for all of us. When I first met Andy in Elysium I’d fallen in love and it felt like we could take on anything together. I still believe we can, but this has definitely proven to be quite the challenge. I just don’t want us obsessing over this virus as if it is the only thing that exists. Otherwise it will consume us after this is all over. Our relationships exist. Our world exists and our spirit exists,” She says. “You're not just Radical-9 because you're here.”

He looks at her and nods slowly, taking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly as he closes his eyes.

“Once this is all over we’re all going to go to the beach…any one and we’ll just sit there and relax, together.”

“Sounds like an interesting idea,” Andy says.

“It’ll be time to celebrate when we end this and every single one of us is going to be there, because I’m not letting any of you die on me when we’re this late in the game,” Lindsey says.

“Right,” Gavin says. “Th-Thank you.”

I look at Gavin and for the slightest of seconds he seems to have been staring off into the distance, but in a flash he is back and looks like nothing had happened.

“I hate to end this touching moment, but we’ve arrived,” Andy says.

The car begins to slow down and finally stop. Andy opens his car door and steps out. Lindsey is behind him. Iris gives Gavin a hug and whispers something like, “Everything is going to be okay.”

I unbuckle my seatbelt and open up my door. When I step out I see a solitary warehouse. It looks to be about half of the size of the courthouse. The yellow paint on the outside had faded and scratched to an almost different color entirely. Snow covers the ground outside and a cold wind blows past us, whistling throughout the holes that have been ripped into some empty oil drums a few feet away.

“We’ve been using this place as a temporary hideaway,” Andy says. “It’s no Apartmente de Cress, but it’s the best we could do.”

“You’d think an apartment would be cheaper,” Iris says.

“Nothing’s cheaper than free,” Gavin says.

I look at him, “So you’re squatting?”

“Yeah, pretty much,” he shrugs.

“We weren’t taking as many cases as of late,” Andy explains. “And we weren’t sure that this was the real deal, we didn’t want to waste money on a false lead.”

“It’s a good thing we weren’t, then,” I say.

“Yes, now, come on,” he looks to Lindsey and Gavin. “Let’s go introduce our new guests,” and then cocks his head toward the warehouse.

JOHN

A low hum penetrates the dark void, it sounds like a machine powering on. My head aches. I realize then I’m once again constricted by something. I look at my wrists and ankles and see that they’re bound by very thick rope and I’m being held upright against some sort of bench.

The darkness begins to fade as light reenters the room—and suddenly all around me is white again. It’s hard to look at, but if I close my eyes then I’m back to the darkness. Anything but that. My eyes adjust and I realize that there’s a man standing in front of me. He’s wearing a white lab coat that stretches down past his knees. His hair’s gray-streaked, but he doesn’t look like he’s much older than his forties.

“Where am I?” I ask, immediately regretting it. My voice cuts my throat as it echoes out. The man shifts uneasily in place. I see his face is neatly shaven and his hair is kept short and tidy. His face looks like one of grief and turmoil. “Can you hear me? Hello?” I ask, coughing.

The man shakes his head, as if he’s just now hearing me.

“Oh, y-you’re awake.”

“Who are you?” I ask.

“Barry Rainwater,” he says timidly. “The lord Reinhardt is the most dangerous thing in this universe. This Radical-9 junk isn’t anything compared to the sheer force that is the lord.”

“What’s Radical-” I begin, but I’m interrupted by a resounding pain in my wrists and ankles. It spreads all throughout my body and I recognize it as electricity. I’m being electrocuted. It finally stops and I drop my head, breathing heavily.

“What the hell is with that?” I ask and I notice a bit of drool is hanging from my mouth.

“Th-This is for the lord. He...he told me that he needs to weaken you. He needs me to break you to your last legs so you can be strong enough for him,” Barry says.

“You seem extra talkative for someone working here. What do you think happens to you when he comes through me? Do you think that you’re going to be left alive?” I ask. I’m met with another electrical shock. I scream out loud this time.

“The lord has promised…” Barry says.

“You said it yourself…” I say.

“What?”

Barry's hand loses contact with the button. My body is free from the voltage for another moment more. “You...said that Reinhardt is the most dangerous thing in the universe. Do you think he’s likely to keep his promise to a mere slave like you? That’s all you are to him, a slave and free work force!”

“NO!” He yells and smashes his finger down on the button. I can feel every particle of energy coursing through my veins and it all hurts in one big instance of pain. My screams are amplified by the extra energy I’m being forced to juggle. I feel like this is the end, but in another instant I feel the pain subside.

I’m falling to the ground below, breathing heavier than I ever have and I look up at Barry. He’s sweating profusely and he’s smashed the remote he’d been holding under his foot. It’s been grazed into a million little pieces.

“Y-You broke it,” I say. “T-Thank you.”

“There isn’t any time for that. I…I need you to get out of here,” he says.

“What are you doing here, anyway, if you’re so afraid of Reinhardt?” I mutter.

“I’m scared of him. I’m scared of what he’s done, what he will do. He…that monster of his…”

“The monster?” I ask. I struggle to get to my feet, I think the electricity had numbed my muscles. I can’t move.

“Can I get a little help here? I can’t move,” I say.

“Surely you’ve seen him? The monster named Micah,” he says. He runs over and picks me up, he sprawls me over his shoulder and turns his head towards mine. I can see his eyes are bugging out and his breath smells of rotting fish. “I saw him a few weeks ago. He was sent by him. He killed my entire family and swore me to Reinhardt, or he’d do the same to me. That’s when I met him. He told me not to tell, but he was scared.”

“Scared?”

“He was scared of you,” Barry says.

“Why would he be afraid of me?”

“He didn’t say directly, but it sort of spilled out. I don’t think he has full control over his own power and sometimes it leaks out.” Leaks out? Is that how I saw the vision of Andy and Gavin? Barry begins trekking behind the bench I’d been attached to. I see a slit of a door out of the corner of my eye. The doors open and he begins running down the long hallway.

“Is this whole place decorated like this?” I ask.

“It gets kind of disorientating at times,” he says, not really answering my question.

“Well, maybe you should slow your pace and enjoy the scenery for a while,” a familiar voice calls out. Barry turns around. “Why, what is going on here?” Micah asks, the devilish grin plastered on his mask is wide enough to give anybody nightmares.

“Micah! it doesn’t-”

“Hush! I would kindly not any interruptions while I’m speaking, Mr...Harry?”

“Barry, sir.”

“Ah! Yes, Jerry. Now, why are you taking Sir Jonathan away from his testing chambers?”

“Um, he needed to use the facilities,” he blurts out.

“Oh, yes. I see, we must serve the needs of our people!” Micah says, lifting his finger into the air.

“Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll escort our guest to the facilities. You can go on your break,” Micah says.

“N-No, it’s really fine. I can handle it,” Barry says.

“Oh, no, I insist! You should really go and get a nice coffee in the break room, relax your nerves...unless it is of course you don’t think I’m capable for the job?” Micah asks, feigning a hurt look.

“N-No, that isn’t it at all, Mr. Micah!”

“I think it is and I’m deeply...deeply offended,” his voice changes from a pseudo-giddy one into pure malice.

“Just stop! You’re a fucking bully who hides behind his masks!” I call out. I don’t know why I did, but I did. I yelled it out, but I didn’t want to, it must be Reinhardt again.

Micah turns his head slightly so he’s looking at me. “Oh, so those electric shocks didn’t completely nullify all of your motor functions. That’s delectable news. You’re much more persistent than I’d originally believed,” he says.

Barry begins to slowly back away. In an instant, I see Micah close the distance between us and the weirdest thing happens. I see the mask fall to the ground and a familiar face hides behind it. His dirty blonde hair reaches just past his neck and his two eyes seem to pervade throughout all else, but that’s only because I’ve seen it once before.

His left eye is a light blue while his right is the same hazel. His slender jaw line and short, stout nose come to me all in a flash.

It looks just like Gavin. I only saw him that one time in the courthouse, but I’m sure of it, only…his hair is much longer here. Was I out for longer than I thought? There is a hushed silence and Micah laughs. In a moment he raises his right hand, but it isn’t a hand anymore, it’s more like a claw. He thrusts his right hand right into Barry’s torso. I hear it puncture and his eyes go wide. I look down to Micah’s free hand and I see it too has transfigured into a feral claw, jagged and sharp. The transformation carries onto the rest of his body and he begins shifting. He’s glowing like goo and then it takes shape. Hair begins forming all over his body, he begins hunching downward into a quadruped stance.

Micah takes his free hand—claw and he rips it right into Barry’s face and it rips off like a sheet of paper in an old notebook. His body falls limp; only being supported by Micah’s other claw that has pierced his body. His head bobs forward and the blood behind what was his face just drains to the floor. The muscles in his arms go limp and I fall to the ground.

I’m facing him when I fall. Micah half-howls, half laughs, his face changing and his jack-o-lantern grin growing larger. He shakes his face off of his claw like it were table scraps. He then thrusts his left claw into Barry’s torso alongside his right one. In one fell move I hear the sound of flesh tearing and ripping. The blood from his body is emptied onto the floor as Micah rips the man into two unequal sacks of flesh and broken bone. I’m too scared to move and I’m sure I couldn’t even if I’d wanted to.

Micah tosses the two halves of what used to be Barry Rainwater to the side, blood flying in the air and several of his internal organs falling and squishing to the ground.

“You...don’t kill to eat?” I ask.

Micah turns his disfigured snout towards me. I can see his eyes pulsating in their sockets, glowing and full of violence. “That's much too messy for my liking,” Micah half roars, his voice guttural.

I look from him to Barry’s carcass. “You’re saying you don’t like it messy, but then what is all of that?”

Micah turns to look at the tie-dye of blood and organs strewn about the floor, he grins. “I never said I didn’t enjoy making a mess of killing. I just don’t like it when it’s with my food.”

“So...what now? Are you just going to rip me apart also?” I ask.

“As much as I’d love to sink my claws into your abdomen and turn you into a flurry of fleshed confetti…now wouldn’t be the right time.”

“Is he the one who made you this way? What happened to you Gavin? What even are you?” I ask.

Micah smiles, baring his jagged teeth, they look like shark’s teeth, sharpened to several points. “That name is no longer associated with me. You’re thinking of the half-wit I was who still thinks he can make a difference,” he laughs.

“I don’t understand.”

“I assure you, I was much like you at one point, but as a reward for my diligence I’ve been given…a promotion. An extra burst of Radical-9,” Micah says, slowly.

“That’s the second time since I’ve woken up since I’ve heard that term, what is it?” I ask.

Micah laughs and walks over to me. “It’s what puts me on the winning team, shithead.” He picks me up and hoists me over his shoulder.

“We’re going to take a little visit so you can meet the half-man of the hour,” Micah says.

Before I can even answer, Micah has taken off, carrying me along with him. I can see the carcass of Barry fade away in the distance. Now I’m headed to meet the man who has been haunting my dreams.