෴Raz෴

෴Fidel෴

෴Ingrid෴

෴Ramit Patel෴

෴Fenny෴

෴෴෴ ෴෴෴ ෴෴෴

Shattered Solace

෴෴෴ ෴෴෴ ෴෴෴

  {{I conducted the prior interview with Dr. Patel in the morning. My team and I spent the rest of the day assisting in building banks of ‘SODIS’ solar disinfection water treatment apparatus. That evening, he pulled me aside again. He had some things to give me, and one more thing to tell me. The following was recorded in his tent.}}

  From the first night he was here, Mr. Owens kept talking about might something, or something that ‘might’ or might not happen. I couldn't tell if he was worried about something that might happen, which certainly makes sense in retrospect, or something else entirely. The way he talked about what might happen or what he might do, was always just a bit off.

  Do you know Fidel Chavez? {{IN: I was going to answer him, but he didn’t stop talking, just continued as though it was a rhetorical question.}} Well, I don’t know if you know him, but Mr. Chavez is strong on a level that’s hard to understand. He can’t lift the old big military trucks we have for supplies, but he lifted several of the common light trucks you see in the area like it was easy. I heard he turned a length of rebar into a rudimentary spring by wrapping it around a wooden beam, by hand. I’m pretty sure he could crush or simply tear away someone’s limbs without any effort.

  Sorry, I’m getting off track. I don’t know if it had anything to do with this, but in the afternoon after he stopped talking about this thing that might happen, or the might he was worried about, he and Fidel wrestled in the sand. Raz came away bruised and bloody. Fidel won pretty decisively, but it was an actual contest. Afterwards, he just said something about trying it again tomorrow.

  Damnit. I need to stop trying to avoid the subject. Look, I’m not sure I should even tell you this. It’s about him, and I don’t know if this is the sort of thing he would want getting out.

  {{IN: Long discussion about the philosophical nature of truth, and whether or not Mr. Owens would approve of his telling us omitted. Eventually he decided to tell me. I believe he had decided to tell me from the beginning, but needed to mentally walk through the whole idea in a few different ways to sell himself on the action.}}

  I know I told you that on the third day, it all went to hell. That isn't strictly speaking, the truth. The problem started the night before. I had a lot more time on my hands once he’d cleared out the clinic again, so I was spending the evening talking to him. He told me a story I'm still not sure if I believe, about being kidnapped and experimented on, then fighting in some kind of gladiator contests against monsters just to survive. The underlying thread I got out of his story, and some other things he’s said, is that he feels weak, vulnerable, and like if he dares to rest for even a moment, he’ll be—well, I’m not even sure what he’s afraid of. He didn’t mention any particular danger, he just seems to think that at any moment everything will come crashing down around him. Looking back, I guess I can’t fault him there.

  But that isn’t what I wanted to tell you. All of us MSF people had attended an impromptu festival in the camp. The mood in camp was high, happier than I’d ever seen it. The gathering was massive, spreading out past the edge of the camp into the open area usually reserved for aid trucks to unload. Nowadays we also use it for self-defense classes. Since it all happened, a lot of residents gather in the morning before it gets hot, and do a class on stick and spear fighting. It looks pretty impressive. Not much use against people with guns, but I think the in-camp morale is better for it. Sorry, I’m getting off-topic.

  Like I said, we were all at this sort of spontaneous festival. The other MSF people had arrived early enough to set up a few camp chairs. We were taking part in a drumming and sort of chanting and singing event. If you imagine a giant drum circle with all kinds of handmade instruments, you’re on the right track. I looked over and saw him standing next to Fidel. They were having an animated discussion with some of the men from the construction group. Later I realized that Ingrid had also been with them, but for some reason, in the moment, I didn’t notice her at all.

  I decided to walk over and invite them to sit with us if they wanted. I wasn’t more than 20 feet from them when Raz suddenly cocked his head to the side, the way you do when you think you’ve heard something. Then, like he’d heard something urgent, he turned and started making his way through the crowd back to the camp. I don’t recall why, but I followed him away from the light and sound of the festivities toward the relative darkness of the camp.

  {{IN: It seems worth mentioning that the nights here are very dark, and according to what I’ve seen and been told, using fuel for light at night is an uncommon occurrence.}}

  As he cleared the crowd, he started moving faster. I tried to keep up, but once we passed the first few rows of shelters, I couldn’t see well enough to run. He didn’t seem to have any such problem.

  I thought I’d lost him, when I heard angry voices call out from ahead. Violence in the camp is rare, but it happens. I slowed down even more and then peeked around the edge of one of the larger style of shelter tents. He’d ripped the front right off the shelter. A burning lantern lit up the scene inside.

  As I said, violence in the camp is rare, thought not as rare as we'd like. This—this was something else. Look, it’s no secret that refugee camps have problems. It isn’t our primary role, but we do what we can to enable camp security forces to stop trafficking and sexual violence, but we can only do so much. We’re here to help, we don’t run things.

  I can only guess what he saw when he pulled the side of the structure off. But when I got there, the two children were still naked and crying. There were three men inside, and one woman. The woman and one of the men were sitting down, with rifles in their laps. The other two men were still shifting their clothing around when I came around the corner. They had—

  {{IN: Dr. Patel pulled his arms tight to his body, and curled up slightly for about a minute before continuing. He looked and sounded quite distressed.}}

  Sorry, I uh—You can read my report, and the report from the examination of the children if you need more details.

  {{IN: I read the report and included it in the file. I wish I hadn't.}}

  From where I stood, I could see Mr. Owen’s face in profile. It was a mask of rage. He said something I didn’t understand, and the men spoke back in what sounded like Yoruba. The two of them with rifles grabbed their weapons, and then things got kind of confusing.

  It looked like all four of them went into some kind of seizure. At the same time, Raz charged toward them. All I could see of him was a blur. What I could see clearly was the way his steps threw up huge waves of sand when he lunged forward. The sand seemed to be moving slowly compared to him, but then so were they. Their rifles hadn’t even hit the ground before he was among them.

  Two of them had started to fall, and he hit the other two in the foreheads with his fists like a hammer. They went down hard. This all happened so fast I could barely tell what was what. Afterward, I had to mentally piece the chain of events back together in my head. He grabbed both kids around the waist, tucked them under his arms, and backed out of the tent.

  I should have gone to get help, or gone and helped him. I should have done something. I’m not a fighter. As soon as I saw they were armed, I froze. He muttered something that sounded like “stay down” to them, but his voice was so guttural, so–I don’t know, infused with rage that I could barely understand him.

   He set the children down, peeled off his outer shirt, and gave it to the girl, then gave his undershirt to the boy. Then he did something I didn’t understand at all. It made no sense to turn his back on armed enemies. The fury fell away from his expression as he turned his back to the armed traffickers, crouched down to face the children at eye level, and spoke softly to them. I couldn't hear what was said, but it seemed to calm them. At this point, I think he saw me, but he didn’t look at me or show it. Each of the children pointed in a different direction, out toward the body of the camp. He pointed behind them, and said something else. They both nodded yes to one question, then shook their heads no to another.

  At this point, he confirmed that he’d seen me, when he waved me over, and asked the kids another question. They looked at me, and nodded, smiling hesitantly. I went over to them, but I think I was still in shock. It’s one thing to know this kind of thing happens, another to see it.

  One of the men grabbed at a rifle as he sat up. I didn’t see any movement or even a look from Mr. Owens, but as the man raised that weapon, all four of them—well, they exploded. A burst of light and a wave of heat I could feel from where I stood.

  The rest of the night went as well as could be expected. I brought the kids back to the MSF group and we talked to people until we found their families.

  We didn’t announce it, but word got around. The residents of the camp showed themselves to be tougher, or at least more pragmatic than I am. Most of them seemed to see this as an overall positive thing. Not the kids being abused or in danger of being taken by traffickers. Rather, they focused on the fact that the camp security team got a new rifle and some chunks of a rifle, and four traffickers are dead.

  They didn’t see what I saw. I saw it. He was happy to kill them. No law, no trial, he just executed them!

  I don’t know why I’m bothering to tell you this. I think–I think it's just that when he threatened me over that baby, I felt the danger, but I didn’t feel any malice, any feeling like he wanted to hurt me. In that moment, I knew for sure that he would, but there was no sense that he wanted to. His apology the next morning felt sincere to me.

  These people though, I’d swear it, he wanted to hurt them. I tried to talk to him about it later, and all he had to say was that he regretted it was quicker than they deserved! I think—I think I’m telling you this because I’ve realized I agree, and that’s not something a doctor should even feel, let alone admit.

  I guess I thought you should know, because, for the first time, I realized that behind his caring face, and underneath all the efforts he was willing to put out to heal and help people, there’s something else. On balance, despite his primal rage, I still think he’s a good man. However, there’s a violence in him that I just cannot unsee, and it scares me.

෴෴෴

  Dawn came early on the southern edge of the Sahara. Dr. Patel walked alongside Fidel and Raz. Having missed breakfast while he walked the camp, Raz was shoving the food he’d managed to scare up into his mouth with abandon as he tried to make sense of the rage he’d felt, and acted on, the night before.

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  I was on the edge of out of control. No. Not the edge, I was out of control. It felt like my body was redlining, dialed up way past 11, and I just wanted. them. dead. The moment I heard them talking about the buyers, they were dead men walking. Damn. I should have found out who the buyers were.

  Fidel was patiently, if not eloquently, explaining his thoughts on a solar water purification project.

  I guess Ramit didn’t say anything. I’m not sure if that’s a good or bad sign.

  Raz tilted the bowl back and drank the thin, grain-based breakfast porridge as fast as it would flow into his mouth.

  Better get the food in me now. Pretty sure I’m running out of time. If nothing happens by lunchtime, I’m going to head over to the shooting range and try out Ionized Path. How am I looking on that Might assimilation?

  [Being physical, it is much slower. The good news is, assimilation is nearing completion. The bad news is, there is a problem.]

  Well, of course, isn’t there always? Do tell.

  [The two sub-abilities, Guardian and Berzerker both have requirements that you must meet before you can proceed to the next tier of core abilities. This also locks out the ‘wing’ or side abilities in the tree.]

  Oh yeah, what were those side abilities?

  [You could display all of this yourself, you know.]

  Yeah, I know, but talking through it helps me think.

  [Those abilities are: Harden, and Command.]

  So, I need to meet some mysterious requirement for both those sub-abilities to allow access to the rest of the tree?

  [No. You’ve already met the requirement for Guardian. This is good, because it means when you fully assimilate rank 1 of Might, you’ll actually gain the ability. Before that, the ability itself would have been disabled.]

  What do I need to do to get Berzerker?

  [You need to enter a berzerker rage.]

  I felt like I was in a rage last night, so if that wasn’t enough, I have a feeling that isn’t going to be as simple as getting really mad and fighting.

  [Correct. There are several sub-requirements, such as duration, combat, the list goes on, but it would generally boil down to entering a berzerker rage, then fighting until the rage passes.]

  Ok, so how do I go berzerk?

  [There are only 12 notes on this topic. Unfortunately, none of them spell it out in enough detail for me to give you an answer beyond, ‘you just go berzerk’. Guardian, however, has 637 notes.]

  “You’re kidding!” Raz exclaimed.

  Fidel stopped and looked at him. “Not kidding. Old Russian wisdom saying, sunlight best disinfectant. Also, use slow-sand filter. Clean water important. Not all can wave hand, have clean water.”

  “Right, sorry. I just,” Raz mentally played back what Fidel had been saying, “I didn’t realize sunlight alone would work so well on low turbidity water.”

  Fidel nodded and smiled. “Da, it help much, if water clear.”

  So basically all you can tell me about how to go berzerk is to go berserk?

  [A lot of these notes are written with what we would consider a certain medieval, or old-world sensibility. The idea of fighting for your life on a regular basis is implied in most notes. You haven’t lived the sort of life that involves children being handed a weapon and sent outside to help fight a bear or fend off the wolves. From the way it was written, Berzerk is supposed to be the easy one. Guardian was the hard requirement.]

  Of course.

  As they neared the clinic, Dr. Patel peeled off the trio to speak with the other doctor standing outside the tent in the cool morning air.

  “Is there a problem in the infirmary?” Ramit asked.

  Raz and Fidel both stopped to listen to this answer.

  The other doctor shook his head, “Nope, far from it. It’s empty inside. We had a guy come in last night for a big sliver of wood that got into his foot, but we’ve been empty all morning.

  Dr. Patel turned back and gawped at Raz, who just smiled and shrugged.

  Fidel took off toward the construction tent with a purposeful stride.

  Ramit shook off his amazement. “First time for everything I guess? So all the patients are at the satellite clinics around the camp?”

  The other doctor smiled wide, “Nope, we’re empty everywhere. I think life must be taking a break today,” he looked pointedly over at Raz, “Of course, life had a little help from an early riser taking a walk around the camp today.”

  Dr. Patel just shook his head. “Well, that is great. Mr. Owens, would you like to take a walk with me and see how that little girl is doing?”

  Raz smiled and nodded. “I’d like that a lot. Afterward, I might head over to the range, or the training field for a little sparring if I get the chance. Unless you need some ditches dug or something.”

  Ramit laughed. “Raz, if the people in this camp caught me even asking you to dig ditches, I think I’d have a riot. Well, the new mother’s area is on the way. If nothing comes up, I’ll walk with you to the sparring grounds. I heard you’re quite a prodigy with the war club. I think I’d like to see that.”

  The other doctor shooed them off with a smile. “Enjoy the morning before it gets hot. It feels like nothing could go wrong today.”

  Dr. Patel brushed that off, “Don’t say that! Are you trying to put a hex on us?”

  Raz suddenly snapped his gaze to the side and looked to the northeast. He tilted his head as though listening.

  Am I feeling what I think I am?

  [For sure. Multiple catalyzed individuals, three or four heavy vehicles, Lot of feet hitting the ground.]

  Damnit. I hate being right.

  He turned to speak to Fidel.

  The burly Russian wasn’t there. Raz spotted him at the construction tent and broke into a sprint. “Raincheck!” He called out over his shoulder to Dr. Patel.

  When he got to Fidel he quickly pulled him aside. “Whatever happens next, you need to stay out of sight. If you’re really with me, then lay low, and don’t get caught.” Raz spoke with a low, urgent tone.

  “What is happen?” Fidel looked around as though expecting enemies from all sides.

  “Remember what we talked about. We’re either at Scenario 1 or 2. We’ll know in the next few minutes if she’s with them.” Raz led them toward a possible vantage point to see where the intruders were.

  “Should have killed. We frogs, she scorpion.” Fidel spat.

  “You might be right. But maybe she’s just very afraid and acting like a lot of abused people. No time to go into that. Here are the keys to the JLTV. I’m trusting you.”

  Raz quickly repeated the rest of the actions he wanted Fidel to do in his plan.

  Fidel shook his head sadly, reluctantly. “Is dangerous. Maybe bad idea.”

  Raz peered around the tent, took in the group getting set up near the admin tent then pulled his head back. “You’re probably right. But I’m seeing grenade launchers, crew-served weapons, and a lot of guys,” he peeked again, “This whole camp has a security force of ten guys, and as of this morning, ten rifles. It’s not a winnable fight. Even if we win, we’d lose. Too many innocents in the line of fire.”

  Fidel looked around, then nodded his head solemnly. “Understand. Am follow plan.”

  “Promise me. I need you to avoid capture. I think she still kind of likes you. She knows you’re presumed dead, so maybe you can stay hidden.” Raz whispered as he marked the enemies with Ground Control.

  “Da, promise. Will stay hidden, use paper you give me.” Fidel agreed, reluctance in his voice.

  “Good, I’ve got most of them marked. If this turns into a shooting fight, then by all means. Do everything you can. Got me?” Raz asked.

  Hope I don’t regret this.

  [I don’t see how you won't. This plan looks like suicide to me.]

  No risk, no reward. Can’t keep being reactive. Crazy as it looks, this is my chance to stab at the heart. Or at least, maybe get a look at it. You know what she said. I’m a high priority target to this Leon guy, so whoever he is, it’s time to meet him.

  [High risk, low reward.]

  Fidel put his hand on Raz’s shoulder and squeezed gently. “I get you. Hope you right. Seem risky. You stronger now. But always someone stronger.”

  Hope the doc finds my note and my stuff.

  They separated. Fidel proceeded to look for a place to lay low, while Raz snuck back toward the admin tent. He was nearly there when a loud whine cut through the quiet morning air.

  “Testing, 1, 2 ,3” a loud amplified voice called out from the armored personnel carriers out front.

  A voice Raz had hoped he’d never hear again blared out across the camp.

  No. It can’t be! She showed me the video, he’s dead!

  “It’s working, give me the mic already,” Braithwaite cleared his throat with the mic live, “Hello the camp. I’m looking for a recent arrival. He probably stands out. He’s white, American, not a doctor, that should narrow it down. This man is about 2 meters tall, I’m told he’s got a strawberry blonde beard and hair nowadays. Goes by the name Raz Owens.”

  Although some of the camp didn’t speak English, his name was familiar to everyone by now. The camp erupted into a flurry of sound and activity at this announcement.

  A few seconds later the loudspeaker came on again. “Paging Mr. Raz Owens. I’d like a quick word with him before I see how far into this lovely collection of hovels we can launch grenades. I know you’re here Mr. Owens, come out, come out wherever you are.”

  Dr. Patel spotted Raz and rushed over to him. “Camp security has been notified, just stay here, you’ll be safe.”

  Raz patted him on the back, “No, I won’t. If I don’t go, people will die. I didn’t have any plans for this guy to show up, but I left a letter on your desk and some things under your cot. I hope you’ll do as I ask. Now, I’m going to do what I can to make sure no one here dies today.”

  Ramit grabbed at his elbow. “Don’t do this! These people aren’t any legitimate authority! Only terrorists would threaten to grenade the camp! You don’t have to go out there.”

  Raz smiled sadly, “Yeah. I think I do. Tell your people thanks for me. I really appreciate the survival and fighting lessons.”

  The doctor grasped his elbow tighter. “No, listen to me. Your healing gift is too important to be lost to some thugs! You’ve done more here than you think, inspired people you haven’t even met! If you surrender to their demands, the cost to the world would be incalculable. Just think abo—”

  A hollow-sounding thump marked the launch of a 40mm grenade. At the height of its arc, a tendril of electricity descended from the sky, caught the grenade in the path of the arc, and then made contact with the ground near the enemy formation. The grenade continued, landing somewhere in the camp with a dull thump and tendrils of purple marker smoke rising from it.

  The voice on the PA spoke again. “Thank you so much for confirming your presence. What do you think will happen when you shock a grenade with a Sarin gas payload? I’ll give you a few seconds to think about it before you find out for yourself.” The disquieting sound of Braithwaite chuckling with glee only stopped when the PA cut off.

  Raz watched the soldiers bringing out more launchers. “Well, that was my only real hope, I knew they has access to nerve gas, so like I said, I think I need to go. But if you tell anyone about this, tell them I wasn’t scared.”

  The doctor looked at him, taking in the calm stance and resolute expression. “You look like you’re not. Are you?”

  “Honestly? I’m about to piss myself. This isn't what I expected at all.”

  Dr. Patel shook his head. “Yes. I see what you mean. If you are as determined as you look, I hope you’re not making a mistake.”

  [Now that you have Ionized Path, you could absolutely hit him from here with White Fire. You can flank them with Spark Gap.]

  Yeah, it's tempting, and he’s the first to go if it comes to that. Too many unknowns here. Relying on untested abilities in a fight with these stakes just feels stupid. Besides, if this plan works, anything I show them now is just making it harder for me later.

  He thought about the camp, Fidel with his new outlook, the many people he’d given a new lease on life. Most of all, he thought about an unnamed little girl, imbued with a spark of his own life, nestled in her mother’s arms.

  “It might be a mistake. But the people here, I’m not letting them burn for me.”

  Should have made time to read that manual on the armor. On that note, I should have been wearing it. Definitely should have made the time to talk to Fidel about the gloves, clear the air. Hope I get another chance. Woulda, shoulda, coulda.

  He stepped around the tent and walked out toward them. White Fire roared around him, partially enveloped in slow time. Willing every bit of the partial unlock of Might he’d managed to aid him when the moment came.

  Someone spotted him and got Braithwaite’s attention. Ingrid sidled around from behind one of the trucks sporting rocket launchers. Following her was the one thing he could imagine that would be worse than Braithwaite. It was another Braithwaite.

  The one with the PA spoke up. “Mr. Owens. We’ve missed you.”

  Raz marked the second Braithwaite with Ground Control, and both of them with Ionized Path. Might raged within him. He wanted to fight. Better to die than surrender! With an effort, he tamped down on that part of him and continued walking toward the two Braithwaites.