Centurion Six: Issue 1, Finale!

Our Story So Far:

Captains Blaine “Centurion Six” Winters and Jacob “Zulu” Mbeke of the New York State National Guard Enhanced Forces Division (EFD) are called out to consult on a multiple homicide in the south Bronx.  The case seems like routine “skrag” gang violence until our heroes stumble upon evidence that potentially implicates a former teammate—ultra-human ne’er-do-well Jason King.  However, before Blaine and his team can begin to investigate, they are attacked by some kind of killer cyborg robot-monkey-thing mounting a highly advanced stealth/security system and a small-caliber machine pistol.

Meanwhile, teenaged ultra-human club girl Rebecca Rodriguez uses her Telekinesis to sneak out for a night on the town in Upper West Side Manhattan.  She meets up with her friends, uses her Empathy to talk their way into Pacha, and then parties like there’s no tomorrow. Then, having lost control of her powers, she then wanders drunkenly out into the streets at three in the morning.  There she meets Jason King…

Note: To read the story from the beginning, click the Centurion Six keyword down below the post.

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“You couldn’t take me on your best day, Blaine,” Jason said, “and from the looks of things, today ain’t nearly your best—not by a long shot.”  He stood slowly and set Rebecca’s head carefully down on the bench where they’d been sitting.  “But if you need a kickin’, who am I to argue?”

Jason smiled again, and it was an alligator’s smile—all razor-sharp teeth and bad intentions.  At some level Blaine knew that Jason was right.  Blaine was strong; Jason was stronger.  Blaine was tough; Jason’s claws would go through Blaine’s oak-like physique without even slowing.  And Blaine had no answer at all for Jason’s teeth.  Why God had decided to fuse the skin and jaws of an alligator with the strength and claws of a grisly bear and then give that incredibly lethal combination to a troubled kid from a Syracuse orphanage was one of life’s great mysteries.  Truth was, if it came down to just their powers, Blaine was outclassed, and he knew it.

Fortunately, it never came down to just their powers.

Jason came on in a rush—faster than humanly possible, with the claws of his right hand extended to rip off Blaine’s face.  But Blaine had seen it coming, and he sidestepped up and left.  His right knee exploded into Jason’s torso, and Jason folded like a blanket.  He stumbled, and Blaine pushed him down and then kicked him in the solar plexus with enough force to dent steel.

“You’re slow, Jason,” Blaine said.  “You think you can drink and smoke your life away and then come in here and be the badass again like you never missed a beat.  Spendin’ time with all those loser skrags in the Bronx has given you a false sense of security, my man.”  Blaine pulled out his handcuffs again.  “But don’t worry, Jay.  We’ll get you cleaned up.  That I promise.”

On the ground, Jason was in obvious pain.  He curled up and rolled away, seemingly delaying the inevitable.  His breath came out in a hiss.  “You’re such a pretty-boy, Blaine.  Always ready to take a bow before the play’s even half over.” 

He closed his eyes.  “Dammit.  I didn’t want to have to do this…”

Before Blaine could react, Jason’s left hand came up, jamming whatever it was he’d had in that hand up into his own neck.  Jason inhaled sharply, and his eyes went wide.  Blaine could only watch as Jason let go a tiny syringe.  It tumbled to the ground and landed with a tink. 

The AMP from the drug lab, Blaine realized.  Oh Hell…

Suddenly, he was scrambling, racing to get his cuffs onto Jason’s wrists before the world’s most potent battle-drug turned his former friend into an honest-to-God unstoppable monster.  Blaine came down with his weight on Jason’s back and slapped a cuff onto Jason’s left wrist, but then Jason slapped Blaine’s hands away and rolled, throwing Blaine off balance.  Blaine tumbled, and Jason raked him with a handful of claws, drawing a line of fire across Blaine’s face.  Both men rolled to their feet, but Blaine was a good half step behind coming up. 

Jason licked blood off of his right-hand index-claw.  Already his pupils were blown, his reactions enhanced by the power of the drug.  He snarled, and it came out words.  “Now I’m gonna rip your goddamned head off, pretty boy.”

Blaine attacked in a rush, frantic to end it before the drug really took hold and the fight got out of hand, but Jason blocked the first two strikes with ease and then side-stepped the next two as if Blaine was moving in slow motion.  After that, it was like trying to punch the wind.  Blaine couldn’t connect, couldn’t even get close.  Then he was stumbling, seeing stars, head wracked with pain, and he hadn’t even seen Jason throw the punch.  Another brute strike landed on Blaine’s ear, and the world spun.  He swooned, and claws ripped across his chest, opening his wounds again and leaving several new ones.  Another swipe, and Blaine’s chest was a mass of blood and exposed muscle. 

Blaine staggered back, trying to put some distance between himself and Jason, but it was already too late.  Jason pounced.  Blaine felt the weight hit, felt Jason dragging him to the ground.  Jason tore a chunk out of Blaine’s shoulder with his teeth; the pain of the wound exploded across Blaine’s mind like a rip-saw.  Blaine cried out.  Jason laughed and then threw Blaine away like a toy.  Blaine knew a moment of weightlessness, and then he crashed headlong into the park bench where Rebecca lay oblivious.  The bench splintered on impact, but Rebecca only stirred.  Blaine rolled away, tried to get to his feet. 

His legs were Jell-O.

“I’m gonna eat your goddamned heart, Blaine,” Jason said.  Even through the blackness in his vision and the agony in his shoulder and chest, Blaine could hear the madness of the drug in Jason’s voice.  “I mean it.  I am gonna eat your heart.”

“Come on then, you bastard,” Blaine said.  His voice was little better than a whisper.  He still couldn’t quite get to his feet.  “Do your worst…”

And then Jason was on him, ripping and snarling.  Blood flew.  Blaine couldn’t get his hands up, couldn’t do anything to keep Jason away.  He tried to roll, but Jason’s claws pinned Blaine’s shoulders to the ground.  Jaws snapped in front of Blaine’s face. 

It wouldn’t be long before Jason finished it.

But then something hit Jason like the hammer of God, and he flew, striking the stone wall of the Park incredibly hard.  The impact was a meaty thunk; it sounded like a steak being slapped onto a cutting board but on a massive scale.

For a moment, the whole City was quiet.

Blaine struggled to move.  To one side he heard Rebecca retching.  When she finished, he felt her hand on his shoulder.

“Blaine…?”

Blaine struggled to sit, managed to roll onto his side.  Where Jason had hit the wall, the wall itself was cracked and visibly dented.  Beneath the crack Jason lay in a heap, though with all that AMP in his system, Blaine wondered if his former friend could possibly be unconscious.  More likely the impact had simply shattered Jason’s skull and upper spine, leaving him paralyzed. 

Blaine reached up, grabbed Rebecca’s hand.  “Hey Jailbait.  How you feeling?”

“My head is fucking killing me.  You don’t think I killed him, do you?”

“Jason?  Not a chance.  That’s one tough son of a bitch.”

“God…  my dad is gonna kill me.”

That made Blaine smile.  “Not just you.  Look, Rebecca, why don’t you call the team?   Tell Zulu where we are, get somebody to swing by here and pick us.  And maybe you should put on my jacket.  I don’t know what that is that you’re wearing, but it’s definitely not clothes.”