Centurion Six: Issue #1, Part 7

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. Having lost control of her powers, she then wanders drunkenly out into the streets of Manhattan at three in the morning.  And then she meets Jason King…

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

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Blaine was at Pacha a few minutes later.  He whipped out his phone, pulled the screen to enlarge it to full size, showed it to the guy at the door.  “You seen this girl?”

“What?  Her old man beat you up or something?”  The bouncer smiled.  It was a nasty thing; Blaine felt the butt of some joke he didn’t understand.  “Look at you, all protective and shit.  Heh.  Young girl like that, you prob’ly had it comin’.”

Blaine started to get off the bike.  “Yeah?  If you knew she was underage, then why’d you let her in?”

“Whoa!  It ain’t like that, chief.  She—“

“Do I need to get out my badge and make this official?” Blaine asked, “or are you gonna tell me where she went?”

“Look, she just left, alright?  How the Hell do I know where she went?  Frankly, I was happy to see her go.”

“She just walked away?  You let her just wander off?”

“What, am I her father?  ‘Course I let her go.  It was like ten minutes ago.  Head towards the Park, you can’t miss her.”

Blaine got back on his bike, kicked it back to life.  His chest hurt, and he was starting to feel sore all over from the night’s activities, but he managed not to snarl.  Still, he could feel the bouncer’s eyes on him as he drove away.  He sighed.  When the best he could hope for was that Rebecca had merely passed out in some relatively safe corner of Central Park, well…  It’d been a rough night already, and it didn’t look like it was nearly over yet.

A minute later Blaine was cruising up Central Park West, taking it slow and trying to keep an eye on the dark spaces underneath the brick wall that ran up along that side of the park.  Rebecca had obviously left her phone at Pacha—that was how Blaine knew that she’d been to the club in the first place—so there was no way now to track her using Mainframe.  Which meant that he was down to good old-fashioned eyeball-searching.  He knew he at least had the right neighborhood, but beyond that—

Blaine stopped suddenly.  His blood froze. 

There, sitting on a park bench by the side of the road was a hulking figure in a black hoodie with the hood pulled up.  Blaine couldn’t see the man’s face save for his smile, which was unnaturally large.  Even from ten feet away, though, there were obviously fangs in that mouth.  And lying with her head in the man’s lap was Rebecca, obviously passed out cold.

Blaine’s mind’s eye skipped back to earlier in the night, to the sight of dead men lying in a drug house back in the South Bronx.  Men who’d been ripped open and damned-near shredded.

Jason King had already killed at least four men that night.  Meeting him here was no coincidence.

“Evenin’ Blaine,” Jason said.  “I was just on my way to come see you when I stumbled across little Rebecca here.  Thought you might appreciate me keepin’ an eye on her for you.”  He pulled back his hood.  His smile was ghastly, as always.  His skin was a mottled gray-green that looked more like scales than human flesh.  “I had nothing to do with this, by the way.  She was already wasted when I found her.  But I figured, hey, sittin’ here like this has gotta be the best way to get to see you alone, so…”  Jason shrugged.  “And besides, she really was happy to see me.  But hey!  Like I said, she was a little drunk.”

Blaine shook his head, tried to come to terms with the situation.  “I’ve been to the South Bronx, Jason.  I already know what happened up there.”

“As it happens, that’s just what I was comin’ to talk to you about.”

“Fine,” Blaine said.  He shut down his bike, kicked the kickstand, and reached into his saddlebags for a pair of handcuffs.  “Then be smart, for once.  Let Rebecca go, and we can talk.”

“What?  With me in handcuffs?  Be serious, Blaine.  I’m not gonna hurt Rebecca, and I didn’t come here to fight.  I really need your help on this.”

Blaine tried to force himself to stay calm.  “And you can have it.  But I gotta bring you in, Jason.  You killed four men.  Butchered them.”  Despite himself, Blaine shivered.  “I saw the bodies.”

“You’re such a panty-waist, Blaine.  Y’know, your father would hear me out.  He’d have listened first and worried about law and order and all that crap later.  You know he would have.”

“You murdered four fucking people, Jason!  Ripped ‘em apart!”  Blaine shook his head.  “No way.  There is no way you just walk away from this, and I sit here and pretend like it never happened.  No way.  Not this time.  Put Rebecca down and come in with me, and then we can talk.  I’m sorry, but that’s the way it’s got to be.”

“You self-righteous prick.  You think you know so much?  Already know what I did and why?  ‘Cause I’m just some kind’a bad seed or something, and that’s as far as it goes?  Go fuck yourself, Blaine.  Seriously.  Fuck.  You.” 

Jason tensed then smiled.  He reached into his coat, came out with something small in his left hand.  His right hand was poised over Rebecca’s neck.  He stroked her throat with his claws.  His touch was gentle, but there was no missing the menace in his gesture. 

“I should’a known better’n to expect something from you, Blaine.  You’ve always been ready to see me rot for one thing or another.  Why should it be any different this time?  You’ve got everything, and I’ve got shit.  Story of our lives.”  Jason stroked Rebecca’s neck meaningfully, but she was out cold.  “Look, just gimme your bike, Blaine.  Gimme your bike, and you have my word that you’ll never see me again.”

Blaine climbed off his bike, rolled his shoulders.  Took off his jacket. 

“Fine.  You want my bike?  Come and take it, asshole.”