Chapter 19: A Vision of Past, Future or Present?

"Get some rest." Jenny said, "You'll be needed at 8:30; we will wake you around half-seven. Showers and toilets are down the hall to the left. Other than that, I hope you like a full English; the cooks ain't cooking anything else." Jenny laughed, then grimaced, "God, I wish they cooked something else. Anyways, you got that?"

"I believe so; cheers." Mark thanked, "I appreciate your help; I really do. It's... been a bad day."

"It is what it is, Mark. Some days just don't go well. Accidents happen, things happen; you just need to shoulder on."

He nodded his head at her, opening the door and stepping inside as her stomach rumbled. Once alone, he frowned. He had not eaten almost all day and was only offered some snacks and a small dinner earlier. Yet, it was not that he didn't feel hungry that was strange. It was that there was no desire to eat. Like hunger no longer affects him, with no instinctual pangs or thirst.

'Am I even human anymore?' He thought.

Mark remembered hearing Barak's comment, confused about whether he was human. Perhaps, he was something different. Something removed from humanity but similar. A sense of dread washed over him, to have everything he has ever known turn undocumented. Pure existential dread.

Maybe there was a silver lining in his curse. People spend their childhoods being told they are special, yet they are not. Everyone finds that out as they get older; very few are able to make a huge 'success' of their life. But now, he could. He was different, like the Fantastic Four, Russo and Sishaf. Great men and women who used their gifts to guide humanity onto a righteous, united path.

He could soar the heavens like a dragon, scour the deep dark like a kraken and traverse on Earth like a god. Only now did he comprehend that despite his curse and all of its evil. It could be used for so much good. He could be a hero in a darkened world, covered by the shadow of corruption and US dominance. At least, he thought so.

Laying on the uncomfortable bed, he closed his eyes. Thinking on positive thoughts, unwilling to degrade his mind into the abyss of his family and the incident, he fell asleep.

Mark's eyes opened slowly, finding himself suspended over the blackened space of emptiness. Despite the sensation of being able to fall forever into darkness, he felt comfortable. The Void had called out to him like it always had. Yet, now, it left only death and destruction in its wake, a creation of chaos that destroyed the universe's order.

'Why am I here?' He questioned, 'What about the base? No... no. It can't happen again. Please.'

The space waves twisted, shaking with power as if trembling from his presence, horror-stricken. Mark could see the nothingness move, yet he was frozen like a stone statue. Then, pulled along, he traversed the emptiness at speeds that would obliterate the universe, yet slowed that it would never reach the end of the Planck Length.

His vision churned and perverted into something physical, appearing as if always there. He found himself relegated to a mere spectator, forced metres above the grey, rock ground. Everything was dead and desolate, a steadfast and indestructible mountain holding before him. It reached infinitely high before the vision warped again.

They were a black-cloaked silhouette covered by shadow; their features were unknowable but existed all the same, like the mountain. They walked to the wall, hesitating over something. Then, the choice made, they plunged a black and purple knife into the mountainside.

Strangely, the whole mountain cracked, a crater appearing around the blade as the rock warped into a justice scale, perfectly balanced. Then it tipped, the stone moulding one-sidedly as the left went higher and higher, the right plummetting.

Mark was utterly confused. He was originally apprehensive, the feeling slowly fading as he realised he was being shown something. But what, he could not make out. It made no sense.

The setting changed as time passed, and the area was now ruined with cracks and battle remnants littering the ground and mountainside.

'Is the Void sentient? Is this a vision? Is it real? What is its purpose? I... I don't understand!'

A thud like a punch resounded, fist cavities created all over the mountain as it stubbornly endured it. Then a banshee screech, a noise he wished would stop as he winced. The effect was colossal, the mountain physically shaking, and its height reduced by kilometres as a five-ringed circle materialized.

Subsequently, the mountain changed again; the rock blackened and burnt, then frozen and thawed. The vision changed again; sharp and jagged shards of reflective crystals, black as night with purple veins, struck into the stone. Debris floated in the air as space occasionally cracked, the mountain stubbornly enduring it all.

Then there was a final chance; no destruction or sound, but a colour. A crimson glow came from behind him; Mark unable to turn and see it as the Void forbid him. But he was quick, glancing at the shards where an object could be seen. A symbol; representing something he did not know.

It inspired fear and dread, an unnatural gaze shining through the glow, faintly purple. He tried to focus, but there was a veil, something blocking his view. All that was present was a crimson hue, coming from a symbol, an Ø. It felt inevitable, he did not know why he felt that, but he did. It seemed as if, regardless of his input, his choices, and his actions; it was something he could not change.

Waking up, he shot into a sitting position, gasping for breath, but he could not breathe. An invisible force was blocking him; his hands grasped his throat, futilely pulling and stretching the skin. Out of control, he blew into the sky like a rocket; the roof smashed outwards. Feeling as if death was on the verge of taking him as his body slowly shut down, a thought occurred to him. It broke through the anxiety and panic, effortlessly.

'Do I... need to breathe?'

He continued ascending into the stratosphere, his blood vessels appearing to be on the verge of popping, but nothing happened. Minutes passed before his brain and instincts gave up, leaving him to his fate as he slowed in the air. His survival instincts seemingly removed, he realised he did not need to breathe; too high up in the atmosphere to respire anyway.

Hovering in the air, the panic settling, as he stood like a corpse, Mark frowned. If he did not need to breathe, nor did he need or desire sustenance... would that make him immortal? His bodily functions no longer respected the laws of life and energy, disregarding them like child's play.

Looking around, he saw darkness with a painting of red, yellow and orange; mixed together in a masterpiece. It was a natural beauty, the sun rising on the horizon from high up. Arms by his side, he smiled at the sunrise as a weak breeze rustled over him. The last time he had seen this sight was many years ago, sitting on a log next to the campfire with his family. They laughed and played, watching the beautiful view. But then reality hit, recent memories overriding any enjoyment he could get from old scenes.

Reluctantly exiting his melancholy, he looked straight down, peering at the soldiers running like ants about their hive, panicked and curious. It took some effort, straining his new muscle, but he descended, frightfully unaware of his speed. Mark closed his eyes, the sound of the wind whistling past and the light warmth felt through the numbness, a time he would call bliss.

'So, this is what it feels like. To fly. To be free.'

Screams of panic and bombarding orders played in his ears, guns turning off their safety as they were readied. He opened his eyes, watching the scene unfold as he lightly shook.

'Oh shit.'

Slowing his descent, it turned silent as the wind stopped whizzing by, his eyes peeled and mind on high alert, fearful of any bullets. It seemed he had caused too much of a stir, unaware of the damage and ruckus he started when the ceiling fell onto passers-by.

There were hundreds watching him fly down; soldiers, cooks, cleaners and every kind of military personnel; stopped and gawked. He could smell their sweat, hear their rapidly beating hearts and quick breaths. Yet, there was another lingering in the air. Something he could sense. Fear. Fearful at his new appearance, his accidental show of power, the speed and force he could use to obliterate towns and cities. For them, ordinary and human, it must be a terrifying thing. To watch a god descend.