CHAPTER EIGHTEEN - APOLLO

Fury Unleashed

Come on, Apollo! Bring it toward you!

He wrinkled his face, concentrating on the empty glass atop his desk. Searing pains shot to his head the more he strained, trying to get the glass to move. Why won’t you MOVE? He extended his hands, hoping the glass would find its way toward his palms. Apollo’s eyes twitched as he bit against his tongue. His stomach muscles tightened to the point they became sore. The stress and focus he exerted became too much. Enough was enough.

Apollo pulled away from the desk, wincing at the throbbing pain from his head. Why won't these damn powers work? He rested his hands over the sides of his temples, heart thumping inside his chest.

Nothing was going according to plan; it was almost as if he was destined to fail … again. The first time was when Mama died. Being unable to pick up signs of her impending heart attack before she’d taken him and Odion to play at their local park. She did say she wasn’t feeling well before they’d left. Why didn’t he do anything about it?

THUMP THUMP

The way she slumped on the bench with her eyes open, still as a statue. He probably could've saved her if he'd known about these powers back then.

THUMP THUMP THUMP

The second time was when that gentleman got stabbed inside the train. Again, he did nothing. Just watched as that man transitioned into a corpse, assuming he did pass away from his wounds.

THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP

Apollo started to shiver. He rubbed his arms excessively for warmth, alarmed at how quickly the temperature inside the room dropped. Calm down. The unstable thump of his heartbeat was now becoming a cause for concern. I have to remain calm! Everything around him spun counter-clockwise as he stumbled out of his chair, collapsing onto the rugged carpet. CALM DOWN!

Apollo looked around the room in a daze, his mind unable to process what was going on. He crawled toward the chair and used its cold metal legs to stand back on his feet. Each hand went above the other like climbing a ladder, but his strength was zapped. He lost his grip and fell back down to the floor. Now even a simple task such as standing up was beyond him.

Apollo switched to his back, hands trembling. He shifted his focus toward the empty glass on top of the desk. Was it mocking him? Apollo bit against his tongue again, a flash of hot anger building, waiting to erupt like a volcano. More memories flashed in his mind: Margaret, Hubert, Mama, the thugs who attacked him in Toronno. Why was this happening? Why was this happening!

The lamplight on his desk flickered, its white flash of the bulb sizzling then exploding into several splintering shards of glass across the floor. Apollo wall climbed back to his feet as the chair rumbled and danced across the room, their beds rocking and shaking back and forth against the floor.

That power surge was slowly returning to him: hands steaming, feet tingling, head buzzing. It was consuming every part of his being. Apollo channeled his focus and exerted all of his energy toward the glass, shattering it to pieces.

Apollo stumbled to his bed, breathless, as he peered thoughtfully at the shards on the floor glinting in the moonlight. Sweat trickled from his forehead, sliding down the bridge of his nose. It was another loss of control. A weakness that needed to be rectified. Controlling this power was similar to working out: the more reps you did, the stronger you became.

There was a clear understanding his body was adjusting to something foreign, but the migraine headaches, dizziness, and feelings of nausea all had to go if he were to square off with his enemies and win. On second thought, this had nothing to do with winning or losing. This was about establishing justice and righting all the wrongs created in society.

It was about protecting the innocent and sending a message to those who committed unjust deeds and believed they could escape unscathed without suffering the consequences. It was about building a better, safer world like Demetrius Miller had done in his Black Shadow comic book series. However, to do that, he had to train. These abilities were to become like second nature. It needed to flow, and it needed to come fast.

#

The cafeteria was buzzing this morning.

Apollo went through his usual routine of scanning for empty tables and fortunately found one at the front, a few feet away from the double doors. There appeared to be a freestyle battle taking place where all the black students gathered to eat lunch. A group of them banged on tables to create a beat while two combatants battled in the middle of the large crowd around them.

A massive roar of adulation erupted as Apollo took out his apple butter sandwiches. Fists were pumped into the air, and some students ran up and down the aisles of the cafeteria, expressing their excitement. Must’ve been an exquisite punchline.

Apollo spotted Tyron against the wall near the kitchen, filming the battle with his camera, bobbing his head to the lyrics one of the combatants was spitting. Cassandra was also bobbing her head whilst sneaking a few looks of what seemed like admiration in Tyron’s direction. A pinch of anger struck Apollo’s chest at the sight of them, causing his heart to skip as he lowered himself to sit.

Killing them right where they stood crossed his mind; however, that would’ve been reckless and stupid, considering he hadn’t gotten to a point where he could call upon his abilities at will. A trigger was still needed for his powers to be activated. It’s times like this when practicing patience was necessary.

“Okay, all of you spread out!” Ms. Goldstein stormed into the cafeteria, parting her brick-sized hands in the air as if doing a breaststroke. There was a running joke among students that she could easily beat up most—if not all of the male teachers at the school, given her tall, thick frame and the fact she looked like an Olympic powerlifter.

“I know all of you don’t have lunch this period, so get back to class!” She clapped her hands, sounding like several leather belts snapped into the air simultaneously. “Let’s go! Let’s go! Let’s go! Get a move on!” Disappointment wafted among the crowd as they dispersed and filled the hallway.

Cassandra found herself wrapped in one of Tyron’s arms as she kissed him on the cheek before exiting the cafeteria. Apollo gagged at the gesture. Only the universe knows where her lips have been. Tyron continued flapping his gums in front of his camera lens before catching his eyes on another student peacefully eating his lunch.

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“I told you I wanted my math homework done by yesterday,” Tyron said, hosting a firm grip on the back of the student’s collar. Apollo’s heart started to jog. His foot tapped against the floor at a fairly steady rate. “If that shit ain’t completed by tomorrow, I’ma send my goons on you. F’real.” He roughly rubbed through the boy’s combed chestnut hair, snagging his bottled water before walking away.

Apollo took a bite of his sandwich and chewed quickly, fingers twitching. Settle down. Now isn’t the time to get excited. Tyron met Apollo’s gaze and held a putrid smirk across his face.

Apollo wanted to sneer but remained neutral in his expression. Giving Tyron the satisfaction he stirred up an emotional response was a rookie mistake. In the little time Apollo spent studying the psychology and body language of poker players on YouTube, he realized that world-class players practiced and mastered the art of stoicism, which is why it was near impossible to tell if they were bluffing. They were extremely difficult to read.

Apollo took the last bite of his sandwich and was about to pick up his second one until Tyron swiped it off the table, chewing nearly half of the sandwich in his hand.

“Thanks for the lunch nigga,” he said in a mouthful, cheeks bulging at the sides. Tyron flipped him the finger as he exited the cafeteria and disappeared around the corner of the hall.

Apollo looked around and drew a long breath, nose stinging, feet bouncing, fingers wiggling, heart sprinting. Calm down, calm down, calm down. Apollo rocked back and forth, fists balled and locked tight. Just relax. Everything will work out as it should. He closed his eyes and drew another deep breath, holding it for three seconds before exhaling. Apollo paid strict attention to the air escaping his mouth, feeling his stomach muscles contract as he did. Clear your mind. Tyron’s time will come. He opened his eyes and stared thoughtlessly at the glass wall before him.

He needed to know Tyron’s habits: what time he arrived at school, which classes he attended or skipped, what time he left school, and which route he took going home. Apollo believed he was in Odion’s fourth-period Phys Ed though he wasn’t entirely sure. Either way, if he was going to kill him and leave no traces behind, he needed to find a way to catch him when he was alone. Tyron would’ve been a fool if he believed he could waltz through life, mugging students for their valuables and stealing their lunches without paying for his actions.

Apollo stood up and threw his backpack over his shoulders, tossing the Ziploc bag into the garbage. His eyes glanced upon the student who Tyron threatened and stole water from. Apollo walked up to him.

“Hey, bro, I saw what happened.” Apollo reached into his pocket and slid him three dollars in coins. “It’s for the water he stole.”

The boy shook his head. “No, I can’t take that.”

Apollo took the coins off the table and firmly placed them into the boy’s palm, closing his hand afterward. “It’s on me.” He took a few steps toward the exit before turning around again. “By the way,” Apollo said, “what period is your math class?”

The boy looked as confused as anything else. It was almost as if he’d never experienced kindness on that level before. “Th-third period.”

“What room number?”

“Ugh … one forty-two. Mrs. Araujo’s class.”

Perfect. Apollo bowed his head. “Cheers.” He stuck out his thumb and exited the cafeteria.

As he reached the second floor, whispers of an argument were heard around the area his locker was located. One of the speakers sounded particularly familiar, although he didn’t care to picture a face to match the voice. Turning the corner, Serenity was pinned up against the lockers, arguing with another student who desperately wanted to make out with her.

“C’mon, you know you want to kiss me,” the boy said softly into her ear.

“Donovan, stop! Let go of me,” Serenity said, screwing up her face. “Get off me!”

Donovan? Why does that name sound familiar? Apollo cranked his head a little to the side, processing the scene in front of him. Serenity constantly turned her face away, attempting to push the student back.

“Leave me alone!”

“No, you like this,” Donovan said, pressing his lips against her neck. He motioned his hands toward her breasts.

“I said let go of me!” Serenity smacked him across his face. “How many times do I have to tell you!” She smoothened herself and adjusted the yellow shirt she was wearing.

Apollo frowned, already not in the greatest mood after what happened in the cafeteria, and this boy wasn’t making things any better. He must’ve been the one I overheard Odion referring to the other day when he was speaking to his friends. Something about exacting revenge for what he did to him in the woods. Serenity looked in his direction, her face tense.

Donovan turned around and met Apollo’s eyes. “The fuck you staring at?”

Strike one.

Judging from his aggressive behavior and history with Odion, the chances of this going south were very high. Ma, forgive me if I happen to do anything you wouldn’t be proud of. “When a girl tells you to let her go, you should do as she says.”

Serenity stuck out her hand and shook her head. “Apollo—”

“Shut the fuck up bitch,” Donovan said. “You speak only when I tell you to.”

Apollo drew his brows together as a spark of anger ignited inside of him. Strike two.

Donovan’s light skin flushed red as he strutted toward him, his eyes telling a similar story to the thugs Apollo came across in Toronno. “You must be that faggot’s twin.” Donovan looked him up and down as Apollo stared into his blood-red eyes, his clothes stinking of Axe deodorant spray and marijuana. “Tell that nigga, Odion, I got four bullets with his name on it.” He raised his fist and smashed it against a locker with a bang. “Now get the fuck outta here before I beat that ass the same way I did your brother.”

Apollo’s hands began to tingle, the heat gathering inside his body radiating outward, enveloping him like a cocoon. It was starting to bubble to the surface, pulsing in sync with his accelerated heartbeat. In, out. In, out. Apollo kept telling himself to regulate his breathing.

“You didn’t hear what I said?” Donovan grabbed him by the collar and pushed him hard against a locker, his back smacking against metal. “I said get the fuck outta here nigga.”

Apollo gritted his teeth and winced, head pounding, heart racing, the power screaming from his body to be unleashed.

“Donovan, leave him alone!” Serenity ran toward him, tugging his shoulder. “He has nothing to do—”

“Shut the fuck up!” Donovan shoved her hard to the floor with his right hand.

Strike three.

In a burst of pent-up rage, Apollo easily peeled Donovan’s left arm away and grabbed his throat, lifting him off the ground with one hand as if he were a toddler. “What gives you the right to be laying hands on Serenity like that?” Apollo slammed Donovan against the lockers. “Answer me!”

Donovan’s eyes rolled into the back of his head, face twisted tight, feet kicking wildly in the air.

“I said answer me!” Apollo demanded, squeezing tighter around his throat as the thump of Donovan’s pulse throbbed in his palm. Apollo watched the life in his eyes edge toward permanent darkness, contemplating the idea of snapping his neck and removing his head from his body right there.

“Oh my God, Apollo, please!” Serenity pulled on his arm. “He’s not worth it!”

Donovan choked and gasped, spit flying from his lips, his face now a deep shade of coral as veins bulged and slithered from his forehead like snakes.

“Let … him … go!” Serenity's voice strained with effort as she tried to wrench Apollo’s hand away. Donovan’s arms fell limp toward his body, and Serenity used all of her weight to force Apollo to release his grip, shoving him backward. “What’s your problem?”

Apollo hadn’t taken his eyes off Donovan as his body dropped to the ground. Donovan stumbled down the hall toward the double doors, holding his throat, yelling death threats Apollo’s way. I know you’ve got a good heart, and you mean well, but you mustn’t make it a habit of being so reckless. Saigon’s words whistled in his mind as Apollo stared at his palm, the pulsing energy coursing through his body, simmering to a halt.

“What’s gotten into you?” Serenity asked, breaking him out of his thoughts. She looked as if she hadn’t recognized him. “You could’ve killed him just now.”

“And I should have,” Apollo said.

Serenity gasped in disbelief. She opened her mouth to say something but closed it back, opting to stare at him in wonder instead.

Apollo punched the code to his locker, grabbed the binder and computer studies textbook he needed for his third-period class, and slammed his locker closed. He stormed away from Serenity’s heavy eyes, kicking one set of the double doors open. It seemed as if every time he tried doing something good for other people, they either didn’t want his help or he was criticized for it. Perhaps he should’ve left the situation alone and pretended he hadn’t seen anything.

Or maybe I should’ve killed him so the world didn’t have to deal with such filth anymore.

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