"The first step towards getting somewhere is to decide you're not going to stay where you are." - J.P. Morgan
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Alard stared at the eerie warehouse that happened to be his destination. There was no sign of life for miles. Not even a rodent scurrying around broke the uncanny quiet that enveloped the area.
Alard clenched his fist against his blood-stained pants. This was no time for hesitation. He had been walking for three hours straight and had questioned his sanity each step of the way, yet his fresh poignant memories served as the fuel to face the uncertain.
He trudged onward once more, clearing the distance to the door in three small strides.
Behind that door, a new beginning awaited...or an abrupt end.
Alard steeled himself, shifting his weight from his injured ankle to push open the door. Before his hand could make contact, the door swung right open with a loud bang causing a cloud of dust to obscure his vision and assault his nose.
He coughed, warily observing a figure materializing from the heavy dust cloud. A freakishly lanky figure, sporting a big afro straight out of the 1960s emerged. He wore an unkempt goatee which resembled an overgrown bush on his otherwise attractive face.
It wasn't the man's disheveled appearance, height, or even the sly grin that revealed unnaturally sharp teeth decorating his face that made Alard consider turning tail and getting the hell out of there. Rather, it was the man's eyes.
Those snake-like eyes that certified him as a predator. As one of the Marked.
A seller of his soul as his father would say...would've said.
The man's whacky grin deepened. "I was wondering if you would stay out there all day, normie. You're late as it is, don't go making trouble before you even step foot in the warehouse."
Alard looked away, unable to hold the man's predacious gaze. "Sorry."
"No matter, let's get a move on before Boss begins without us." The man walked away at a brisk pace, leaving Alard to half-run, half-hobble to keep up with his long strides.
Somehow the interior of the warehouse was even more somber than its exterior. The darkness took some getting used to and the smell was an intense attack on Alard's nostrils, the reek originating from a scent Alard was becoming all too familiar with recently.
Death.
"Now, usually I would offer a tour of our fine establishment," The man started, breaking the silence, "but the last few guys and gals I've done that for didn't exactly make the cut. And by making the cut, I mean surviving the first bit, of course." He chuckled as if he had made a joke. "So I've decided I won't waste my breath this time. You don't exactly look like you can handle the transformation anyway."
Alard considered the man's words. Even for a normie, what the Marked had nicknamed humans, his body was unimpressive. He wasn't exactly unfit or fat, landing somewhere in between a skinny-looking kid and having good muscle genetics. Alard imagined that most who entered this warehouse seeking to join the ranks of the Marked were hard military types that resembled Dwayne Johnson and not a seventeen-year-old Tom Holland.
Alard swallowed hard, dismissing the rising doubt as unbeckoned memories once again surfaced. His house on fire, the sound of gunfire...and the screams.
God, the screams.
Those screams had haunted him, carried by the wind behind him if he dared stop to listen. There was no escape, no path to run away --he needed to face this head-on. Alard met the eyes of the man who had paused at a doorway, studying Alard intently.
Alard didn't look away this time.
The man nodded, his grin resurfacing. "Very well, then." With that, he led the way through the doorway.
"Last kid's here, boss!"
Alard examined the large, dimly lit clearing which hosted three shadowy figures in the middle of it. His guide slinked away to a staircase at the side, joining other figures who stood on a platform at the top watching quietly. He couldn't make out their faces in the darkness but he was positive they were also Marked.
"Come." A voice commanded. The simple word held such power in it that Alard jumped to comply, making his way across the rubble to the center of the dark clearing.
He noticed that one of the figures was in fact a boy who looked about his age and wore a blue blazer and another who seemed older, equipped with a fresh-looking goatee. He could tell from their eyes they were normies like him.
On the other hand, a towering figure stood in front of them. Just being close to the burly man made his hair stand on end and his senses go into overdrive in utter fear of his menacing aura.
Was this man or monster?
"Let's begin then," The man said unceremoniously, staring intensely at the two boys. "I have no interest in your story, what led you here and what you were before, but I do have one question. Do we all share the common goal of wanting to end the Peacocks' reign on the city of Penrith?"
Blue Blazer nodded, a determined glint in his eyes. "Affirmative."
Goatee seemed less passionate. "Sure," he muttered.
The man's reptilian eyes turned to Alard who also nodded his agreement.
"Very well. As you boys know the Underground has led the charge against the Peacocks for as long as one can recall. At first, the rebel organization was on the ropes, bound to be extinct within any moment but in the last five years, there's been a momentum-changing breakthrough. Parasytes. Found in a raid of an undisclosed location, the first Marked Parasyte user was born."
Goatee audibly groaned. "Dude, if I wanted a history lesson I wouldn't have come to Vrille where the war is at its worst."
Alard's eyes widened in shock. How could a normie be so confident in the face of a Marked, especially one that seemed as powerful as this one?
The Marked cocked his head to the side, revealing his features as a single ray of sunlight caught his face. He had the hard features of a military drill sergeant and the scar which stretched from his right eyebrow straight to his left cheek only made him a hundred times more menacing.
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
Alard idly wondered what could've left such a gash on a Marked as they were famous for being able to heal their wounds over time. The thought sent a shudder down his body; they weren't invincible after all.
The man straightened back up and clicked his tongue. "You're right. You came here to become strong enough to make an impact against the Peacocks by joining our crew." As he talked he signaled with his hand and an older-looking man with spectacles appeared, carrying a tray with three vials filled with a liquid on it. "After today you will no longer be known as a normie, either fusing with a Parasyte and becoming a Marked; or failing the transformation and joining the ranks of the deceased instead."
The boy gulped reflexively, shifting from one foot to the other uncomfortably. Alard pinched himself as the voice of his father entered his head, calling the Marked demons that had sold their soul. Now, Alard would be no different if he survived, selling his soul for the prospect of Vengeance.
He wondered if his dad was currently frowning down at him.
"Here we have three parasytes for you to choose from." The boss continued. "The ones on the left and the right are what we refer to as normal Parasytes. They offer everything that you've no doubt heard about; superhuman strength, speed, reflexes, increased senses, and the list goes on. In the middle, we have a rare parasyte which offers special abilities on top of the aforementioned perks."
Goatee greedily stepped forward while Alard waited for the 'but' he sensed coming.
The man held up a hand. "However, the rare parasyte is harder to merge with and has taken many recruits' lives since the capability has to be almost perfect. I'd say there's a thirty percent chance you survive merging with the normal parasyte while only a five percent chance you survive the rare parasyte, perhaps even less."
Goatee nodded, his faltering smile returning. "Thirty percent sounds like good enough odds for me. I'm bound to become the strongest even with just a normal parasyte at my disposal."
Alard could see right through his exaggerated act. He didn't believe his own words, only putting on a brave front to not face the fear he felt.
The spectacle-wearing Marked handed him the left vial. Alard narrowed his eyes, noticing a small worm-like creature wriggling around in the liquid. It was amazing to think such a small organism could offer such sought-after abilities.
"So I just drink this?" Goatee asked, his cocky tone waning. Upon a nod of confirmation from the burly marked, Alard could see him visibly steel himself, clenching his teeth before forging that counterfeit smile on his face again. "Prepare to be impressed."
He wolfed down the liquid and consequently, the cosmic parasite. Like us he waited for a reaction, the fear that he was hiding rising to his features.
For a few tense seconds, nothing happened and just as his grin returned, a chilling portrait of excruciating pain appeared on his facial canvas. Next came a blood-curdling shriek as he dropped to the floor like he had been shot by a rifle.
He writhed on the floor as his shriek morphed into a piercing scream, his hands clutching at his neck before fruitlessly grabbing at air.
The scream lasted for a good sixty dreadful seconds, the burly marked watching his plight without the smallest hint of sympathy. Blue Blazer turned away, his fist clenching as he fixated his eyes on anything but the dying man but Alard couldn't turn away.
He watched in horror as the man drew his last gurgling breath, his nose producing blood like a tap that had been turned on to its highest level. Finally, the light dimmed from the man's eyes, the vacancy paired with the curt cut off of his scream confirming his fears.
The man had failed the merge.
The burly marked heaved a sigh, his serpentine eyes lacking compassion as he eyed the corpse. "I can't say that result is surprising."
At his words, a chorus of chuckles rose from their ascended spectators. Alard grimaced in disgust.
This was like a game to them. Like the afro marked had said, death was a common theme here and it was evident they felt they were better than the humans who failed to merge since they had become a success story themselves. Still, witnessing death frequently didn't give them the right to become so desensitized. Alard decided to give them the benefit of the doubt, maybe it was the Parasyte inflicting with their humanity.
The thought gave Alard pause. Would he be the same?
"So, whose next?" The burly marked asked, interrupting Alard's musings. He noticed that the parasyte had been recaptured in a new vial by Spectacles.
Blue Blazer seemed hesitant after witnessing such a scene but Alard stepped forward, not bothering to hide his shaking limbs.
Memories of his district on fire filled Alard's head along with his pledge to kill who had given the order. The order that had killed his parents and friends. Death had now been imprinted on him, how could he fear it?
"Oh? Which Parasyte do you seek?" The man asked.
"The rare one," Alard replied softly. He had concluded that a thirty percent chance wasn't much different from a five percent one. Sure, the difference was significant but in the pursuit of power, luck would be a big factor all the same. And power was what he would need lots of, prompting his decision.
The burly marked nodded. Was that respect in his eyes?
Pushing the idle thought down, Alard accepted the offered vial. He remembered his best friend's motto, the motto he would never get to hear from his lips ever again.
He who is not courageous enough to take risks will do nothing in life.
He gulped down the liquid, shocked at how smooth the liquid's texture was. It had a unique taste, the smoothness of the liquid pairing up with the tingling sensation of a spicy hot sauce.
Before he could pinpoint exactly where he remembered the taste from, a shockwave of pain racked through his entire body, causing him to fall to a knee with a whimper. His vocal cords refused to cooperate as he screamed soundlessly, the onslaught of pain only intensifying with each passing millisecond.
As he forced his eyes shut he could only think of four words.
I'm going to die.
Just as sudden as the pain started it stopped. He cracked open his eyes and realized his landscape had changed. No longer was he in a warehouse in Vrille, but instead back in his home district.
Or what was left of it anyway.
The place was a wasteland made up of ruins from buildings that had once exuded the warm feeling of home. Of safety.
Now it was anything but.
He walked down the pathway, recalling the buildings that had stood in place of the current ruins. There was his favorite shop, which sold the most up-to-date technology. His family was never on the rich side but the owner, Mrs. Ellis, had always brought down the prices for him. He gulped as he imagined what had become of her kind-hearted soul.
His vision blurred and suddenly he was in front of a modest two-story house. His house. Unlike the surroundings, the house was compact and looked even more brand new than he remembered it. His eyes widened as a thought drifted to his mind's surface.
Did this mean that his parents had survived?
He rushed inside, bolting through the living room and upstairs to the bedrooms. He pushed against his parent's bedroom door, his heart pumping harder at the revelation that it was unlocked.
A figure sat on their bed, staring at him evenly through serpent eyes as he entered. It wasn't the eyes that gave Alard pause, rather it was the fact the figure looked exactly like him. From his light brown curly hair to his soft baby face features. Had his eyes not been the symbol of a Marked, he would've thought he was peering into a mirror.
"What is it that you seek?" The Marked asked, its unwavering stare locking Alard in place.
"What?" Alard asked, completely confused.
"What is that you seek?" It repeated.
This time he felt a probing touch in his head, as if something was there, looking where it shouldn't.
Alard finally understood. This was the rare Parasyte.
He squared his shoulders, calling up all the pain he had endured with each step to say his next word with true conviction.
"Vengeance."
The Parasyte cocked his head, well, Alard's head to the side. "And you pursue my power for this vengeance?"
"Yes."
The Parasyte studied Alard and Alard got the feeling it wasn't just his body being examined. It felt like the Parasyte saw through him and into him, inspecting his very essence.
"So be it."