CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

Today

“No one could save him now. Jack saw as clear as ever. He was not Jack, and he was not Philip, he was not DarkFlood, but what DarkFlood represented. He was the watch. He was the timekeeper. He was the avenger. He was the city savior.

He could not afford to have attachments. His parents would be next, maybe the kid. It was just a matter of time. There was not much left in this world that still connected him with humanity. He realized that the moment Sarah died.

Perhaps to a breaking point?

That was Fitzsimons' intention, who probably planned this whole thing out.

Now, you have been completely caught up in the life of DarkFlood for the past six months in New York City. I have put everything important down in writing except for what I found in the scrolls. If the Two Suns in the sky outside is any proof, mankind has a lot ahead of them. Soon I will not be alone. And the story of the first super hero will be over.

One thought still prevails.

I must kill Fitzsimons."

Philip finally finished logging the past six months he spent as DarkFlood and Jack Hanover. He stopped writing in the journal and put it away with Sensei's scrolls. Philip walked back into the kitchen with Moses and Dr. Randolph who was on the phone.

Philip pulled the metal trashcan out and threw his cape, vest, and the rest of his DarkFlood gear in it before he tried dousing the inside with kerosene. Moses jumped in front of him and kept Philip from destroying his equipment.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Ending this charade.”

"This city still needs you."

“This city needs a miracle.”

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"I know. But DarkFlood will have to do.”

“There is no point in hiding anymore. Fitzsimons' knows I'm alive. Jack Hanover is irrelevant."

"I don't see a mask on that suit."

Philip took the vest out and stared at it. This was his Kevlar vest from Afghanistan, it had been a part of him for a long time now. He put it back on. He clipped the cape onto the shoulders of the vest and harnessed his utility belt back on tight. His face was bear, he was Philip Dresden as plain as the day he was born into this world. And he thrived that way.

"We have a war coming, a great civil war between mankind." Philip went on with his delusional prophecies and blasphemies, "Between those who want to enslave humans and those who want to keep them free."

"I thought you were going to say, those who want to kill them," Moses interjected.

"From what I'm putting together some humans will remain regular, unaffected by the supernova blast-wave."

“And the rest of us?”

“It’s unclear but there will be significant changes.”

"This is insane." doubted Moses.

"And that day on the roof?" Philip refuted, "Was that insane? Are the two suns in the sky everyday since insanity too?"

Moses looked away, he had nothing further to say. Randolph stood in between. "And right now, the element of surprise is our only advantage."

"Advantage against whom?" Moses had to ask.

"Fitzsimons, the Storm Harvester," Philip turned around, his eyes were glowing blue.

Spiraling ocean blue light pouring out of Philip's eyes. The Divine Catalyst was changing him. It had been since the beginning. But the more abilities he gained, the looser the process became with his transformation. This was the next phase. Philip was evolving past human, past super human, to a level unknown and unmeasured. He was terrified. If Philip didn't get the Divine Catalyst out of him soon, he would lose his humanity forever.

"Your eyes!"

"When is this all supposed to happen?" Randolph gauged Philip.

"According to the scrolls, could be tomorrow, could be in five hundred years."

Philip opened the window and got halfway out of it. Randolph, still with one ear to the phone, finally got taken off hold and walked away to begin talking with the person on the other side of the long distance line. Philip left the windowsill and Moses followed him up to the roof.

"What are you gonna do out there?"

"This city has become a breeding ground for degenerates."

"You'll clean up the scum by yourself," Moses yelled after him as he ran away into the thick city night something unmistakable, "And it will kill you!"