Chapter Twenty-Three

Malik Shawn (aka Masha) - Connecticut, United States

Masha gritted his teeth as his arms rose for the twenty-fifth rep of his bench press.

“Easy, easy,” Finnigan Watts said. “You can handle the weight, clearly, but I’m not so sure the bench can hold you and the weights you’re pushing.”

Masha placed the barbell back on the rack. “Wouldn’t be the first time a bench collapsed under me.”

He sat himself up and took a few breaths. He watched Watts on the speed bag for a minute. The mount holding the speed bag was again struggling. “Man. All of this gym gear isn’t designed for us. Falls apart every day.”

Watts paused. “You expect more? This stuff is made for human strength, not ours.” Watts turned away from the speed bag and faced Masha just as he stood up. “I do have a question for you though, since I know you take your food seriously.”

“Sup?”

“You ever notice your diet affecting your powers?” Watts asked. “I’ve been noticing that if I don’t eat enough fruits or yoghurt, I take longer to charge up. And then the other day, after you gave me that pure coconut water, the electricity felt incredible. I shot a few beams, and I recharged faster than usual. Timed it and everything.”

Masha chuckled. “We may be beasts, or aliens, or whatever you wanna call it, brother. But what we put into our bodies affects us just as much as every other human or animal out there. At our core, we’re still humans, remember that.”

Watts nodded. “Right. It makes me think what our ancestors in space are like. Do they have to worry about bullshit like nutrition too? Because I’m guessing they’re far more powerful than us.”

“You really dig that stuff about the ancestors that Quinn kicks to us, huh?” Masha asked.

“Are you not a believer?”

“All I’m saying is, who really knows how the Starfalite got on that meteor? All of this could be an accident.”

“Did Quinn never give you the psychedelic?”

“He tried,” Masha replied. “But I wasn’t with it.”

Watts scratched his jaw. “Are you for real? Who else was there?”

“General Webster. It was the night before you got back from Naguela.”

“And you just refused? What did he say after?”

“Asked if I’d rather have a smoke. When I refused that, Quinn and I had a one-to-one convo. He got pretty deep. Talking about philosophy and shit.”

Finnigan Watts was stuck in his thoughts when COG agent when Dean Baker rushed into the room. “Where’s the clicker?” Baker asked them, nodding towards the wall-mounted screen.

Masha retrieved the remote controller from a wooden bench across the room. He tossed it to Baker who failed to catch it. Watts picked it up and handed it to Baker. Baker turned the TV onto a foreign news station. A banner at the bottom of the screen read: Estrea hits Naguelean city Costaluna with a drone strike.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

“Glad to see the Estreans took my ball and ran with it,” Watts smiled.

“Wait,” Baker said, turning up the volume. “Listen.”

The news was being translated into English in real-time. Masha squinted his eyes with focus as he listened.

Local troops, assisted by foreign activist group Solace, were involved in the evacuation of residents in the area.

“Solace?!” Watts snapped. “You’re kidding me?”

Baker nodded. “Another COG agent also reported setting eyes on Zella in Solaria Del Sur,” Baker added. “That can only mean one thing. Solace is in Naguela. Either temporarily or permanently.”

“If they’re helping rescue efforts in Costaluna, then I’d bet they’ve been staying there for some time,” Masha said.

“You mean to tell me I was just over there, and they’ve been staying there all this time?” Watts asked, frustration sweeping across his face. “I could have dealt with that bitch right there and then.”

“Yes,” said Baker. “At least we know where to start looking. But Quinn has his orders. He says to wait before moving on her.”

Masha stepped before Dean Baker, looking down at him. He breathed out an air of disappointment. “Do you know what it’s like having to talk to a grieving mother every night, trying to reassure her that justice will be brought to whoever murdered her son?” Masha asked, looking directly into Dean Baker’s eyes. “Didn’t think so. That’s my reality every day. So, with all due respect to Quinn. I’m going to get peace and justice for me and my family.”

Finnigan Watts walked over to Masha and tapped him on the chest. “Hell…fucking…yes. That’s what I want to hear. Let’s make her and her posse bleed. Maybe we get Amina to come too.”

Dean Baker’s eyes bulged. “Guys, you can’t do this. Neither General Webster nor Quinn has approved this.”

“Then don’t tell them,” Masha said, walking towards the locker room. With his back to Dean, he spoke once more. “If you have to tell them something, just say we went on vacation.” Masha continued to his locker and retrieved his soap, towel, and flannel.

*

Hubert Quinn - Brazil, São Paulo

Quinn gazed up at the large wrought-iron gates that once declared a stoic guardianship over the facility. The gates, now twisted and rust-eaten, begrudgingly allowed passage to those who dared to enter the abandoned property.

“Why haven’t they sold it to a new owner?” Jade asked.

“The Brazilians wanted to do so, but our own government stopped them, suggesting that they needed to comb the place for evidence. Being that Calloway is one of their own. And then COG, knowing exactly what we did to Calloway, delayed the search. As you know, once defeated, politicians have a tendency to sit and do nothing. Leaving no resolution to the future prospects of this gem.” Quinn raised his hand, signalling to the decrepit property looming against the busy canvas of São Paulo.

Jade’s lip curled, eying up the cracked front window. The windows gazed back like hollow eyes, reflecting the brooding grey clouds above, providing a glimpse into the desolation that lay within. “Yeah, not so sure gem is the word.”

“It isn’t so much the appearance of the place. It’s what we hope to find inside. And then, there are the memories we’ll share of that day.”

“The day we put our human creator to rest.”

“I dislike the term creator for Calloway. He was more a tool, or instrument. An object important to our inevitable creation. Yet that creation was not solely based on his own merits.”

“He for sure doesn’t deserve the credit he gets online,” Jade replied.

Quinn smiled, acknowledging her words, but focusing his attention on the building. “His lab was underground. Unsanctioned. Therefore, I know there are some important secrets here that we overlooked in our haste last time.”

“You think anyone else has been here since then?” Jade asked.

“I don’t doubt that Calloway had contingency plans. My gut tells me he saw his death coming, and put plans in place for what should happen after.”

“And you think Zella and Solace are part of his plan?”

“Let’s not speculate more than we have to,” Quinn said, setting his eyes on Jade. “We’re here now.” Quinn pulled on thick padded gloves before reaching out for the rusty handle of the wrought-iron gates.

-Mere Immortal is written by Gary Swift. If you see this on another website under another name, then someone has plagiarised it. Visit mereimmortal.com for official chapters. Subscribe to the Substack paid tier to support the creation of this project.

-This version of Mere Immortal is written in US English.