Chapter 28: News Report

A luminous light shone down upon him, piercing through the clouds, brighter than the stars in the night sky. The aircraft and camera stared down at him, a small red light blinking next to the lens, confirming Mark's fear. It was distinctly coloured and labelled, the news company logo plastered onto it: The Irish Star-Bulletin.

Glancing at the occupants, he spotted the pilot gawking at both himself and the landscape. His colleague, a female correspondent, was spluttering her words as she watched, wide-eyed, at everything she saw.

"We-We...There appears to be a naked man," she asserted to her audience, "standing in a pool of hot liquid. H-How is he alive? It looks molten? Is he the one responsible for the destruction?"

She gazed over the desolate wasteland, a fire raging on top of a broken homestead and the land dotted with craters and hits.

"The damage is immense...and now h-he's staring at us. May God have mercy on us!"

The three occupants of the helicopter watched as Mark rose from the floor like something from the Bible. She had paused, mouth agape, at the scene before remembering her reporting. She cried out, her voice reaching a crescendo.

"H-He's flying! I cannot believe what I'm seeing! Unbelievable! J-Jack! The camera is on, right? We...We are getting this? Jack?"

Completely oblivious to his name being shouted, Jack was brought out of his comatose-esque state by a strong nudge. He grunted at the female, turning towards the equipment out of instinct and checking the footage.

"W-What?" he responded.

"Is it fucking on!?" she screamed. "This...This is the story of a lifetime! A flying human...no, maybe an alien! L-Ladies and gentle at home, you may just be witnessing history in the making. First contact!"

Mark stood over the ground, the world utterly tranquil and inaudible. His nervous system cried; the pain in his ears lessened but still insufferable agony. He heavily winced as he touched one of them, unsure what to do. Unable to hear what the news was saying, he mentally cursed, deciding the government was best equipped to handle the shit show.

Turning towards the direction he came, he sped off faster than the eye could trail, a sonic boom whipping up a storm as the aircraft rocked. The female correspondent yelped at the helicopter's sudden movement but rapidly got to her feet. She held the mic to her mouth, instantly ready to continue her reporting.

"Dear Lord! Did we get that? He...It just flew away. That-that was supersonic; it was as fast as a fighter jet!"

The camera continued watching the direction Mark had left, zooming in and hoping to see something. Whether it was a speck or a faint silhouette, anything was better than nothing; yet it found nothing but darkness. The figure had disappeared as if never there, but as they looked down, the desolation remained a grim reminder; it was there.

Tutting at the man-come-alien had gone and was not coming back, their lives safe, the reporter turned towards Jack.

"Turn the camera downwards," she commanded. "Let's get a good look at the impact. M-Maybe its ship is still here! Or there could be clues!"

She continued staring at the camera feed, occasionally glancing outside the windows and pinching herself.

'It's not a dream. It's not a dream! I have a fucking story! I've finally got a fucking story!'

Coughing, she regained her composure. "Wow...something has melted! It looks like it's the ground. Wow...the heat must be absolutely extraordinary. Incredible!"

Jack moved the camera, surveying the damage and looking for a flying saucer. He frowned, orange and red flickering covering the ground as he neared the coast.

"What's that?" he asked, zooming in. "Is...Is that an aircraft?"

His face lit up, dragging his colleague's t-shirt for her to see. He frowned at the flames, parts of the transport scattered across the beach, cliffs and countryside.

"Damn..." he complained, "...it's completely decimated."

"It doesn't matter," the woman said, "the government could discover what happened here tonight. This is proof everything was real."

The reporter turned back towards the mic, staring at the blaze through the windows, the helicopter moving closer.

"People of Ireland and beyond, this may have just been the first confirmed sighting of aliens," she stated. "Maybe it was a crash landing? As you can see, it appears to be a destroyed shuttle. Perhaps this is actually a secret government project? Rumours abound of America attempting genetic manipulation. Is this the fruit of their labour?"

She continued aimlessly conjecturing to her awe-struck viewers and listeners, her Irish accent becoming thicker and thicker. Minutes later, she looked to her left, vaguely discerning the lights of another helicopter.

A few minutes later, dozens of aircraft flooded the scene, news agencies scrambling to get part of the scoop. The reporter smiled at the thought, knowing she would go down as the one to be first. The regional police and medical services weren't far behind, speeding along the country roads. Their sirens blared into the night, the only comfort for the injured and terrified residents.

The correspondent hummed. "The emergency services have finally gotten here. They're a bit late...is this part of the conspiracy?" She sighed, turning professional. "Either way, casualties and damages will be calculated throughout the night. The military will also likely make an appearance. But, what we do know, was that the figure was last seen heading towards Wales. And we are left to wonder...just what were they?"

'Shiit! Shit! Shit! Fuck!' Mark groaned. 'They're gonna be so pissed.'

The more he thought about it, the worse it got as he realised the news had caught him red-handed. 'My face was showing! Oh no. This is bad, really bad!'

Whether conscious or subconscious, Mark found his thoughts were numbing the pain as he focused on anything but it. He proceeded back towards the base, the 'muscle' used for flight starting to strain, an intangible ache appearing.

Unable to deduce where the facility was, he determined to go south and look for the capital, London. With Watford so close, the city and River Thames being so hard to miss, he could find it. Keeping his eyes peeled for a base ablaze, he zoomed over the city minutes later. He was high in the sky, but the black smoke billowing above made it easy to see, even without his zoom.

He descended as he got closer, the base a chaotic mess as soldiers rushed all around. The injured lined steps and covered benches; a long line of body bags covered a large portion of the outside.

Mark continued to decline, landing as peacefully as possible. The concrete cracked as he hit it with some force, shattering into the ground rather abruptly. Looking through the dust, he saw tens of rifles pointed at him, the soldier's eyes hard and burning with anger.

"Stop panicking, for fuck sake!" A black Guard soldier shouted as the dust cleared.

The man grunted as he slowly approached Mark, putting his hand on his chest.

"Sorry. We owe you a lot of things, Mark. And this...ain't one of them."

Mark groaned in bliss as his flight ended, seeing the man's mouth moving but unable to decipher his words. His brows creased as he licked his lips, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I...I can't hear you," Mark stated. "I'm deaf."

The soldier frowned, his eyes moving left to right as he tried to understand.

"Shit," he cursed, "Sir Jah is not going to be pleased. Fuck. Where are the medics!?"

One of the aid personnel came running over, the soldier shaking his head as he spoke.

"Take a look at him; he says he can't hear."

Standing still, Mark awaited the medic to approach, the painful throbbing returning as he thought about it. He winced, a shiver running down his back as he remembered the original pain.

The medic walked up to him, ignoring the young man's nudity. "Hey, Mark. Not much point in speaking, but maybe it'll give you some reassurance."

Mark watched the man start to inspect him after smiling, glad to hopefully get his hearing back.

"Can I get some clothes?" he asked. "Please?"

The man laughed. "Don't worry, someone's gone to find some. Could you move your head?"

He tried grabbing Mark's head to turn it, hoping to inspect the right ear but found he was unable. His face popped into Mark's view. Seemingly understanding, the medic thanked him as Mark moved his head.

With news finally reaching him, Barak limped out of the administration building using crutches. His leg throbbed with pain, but nonetheless, he hobbled to Mark, intent on finding out what happened.

"You look like shit, Mark," he said. "I hear you've gone deaf?"

Seeing the Asshole making an appearance, Mark grimly smiled. "Your leg looks fucked. Also, not sure if you noticed, but I've got a bit of a problem."

Barak shook his head, smiling. "Yeah...I've noticed."

His hand went into his pocket, grabbing his phone as he asked a soldier to fetch a bigger device. Barak spoke into the phone, the words appearing on the screen before showing Mark.

"How did you go deaf? Did you find the ones you went after? It was a rash decision."

Mark shrugged, his voice louder than intended. "Yeah, I got the big guy and two shuttles. One...got away. But I got the monster they had. It was...only slightly weaker than me, far beyond a normal human."

"How did you go deaf?" Barak asked again.

"Oh...I'm not too sure. It had this device thing that made a fucking stupidly loud, high-pitch noise. It became unbearable, so I...blew out my ears."

Barak scoffed in a mixture of praise and frustration, the decision bold and decisive no matter how someone looked at it.

"Fuck sake, Mark. Let's hope your body naturally heals it, and it's not that bad."

"What about Jenny? Is she ok? She was shot when I left her."

Barak stared at Mark, his eyes subtly narrowing as a glint passed within them. He sighed before speaking into the phone.

"Firstly, you're an idiot for going after them; it's probably, what they wanted. As for Jenny, she's ok. She'll be in a bed for a few days, but recovering is certain."

Whilst Mark read the message, Barak rubbed his chin. No matter how he looked at it...the assailants knew Mark's hearing was heightened. And if it was intensified, it was also a weakness. The 'monster' also brought unanswered questions into the equation.

Mark scoffed. "Well, can you blame me? You sent me down to a fucking bunker for everyone to die. Then I decide to take action, to save everyone, and you're saying I shouldn't?" He sighed. "At least Jenny's ok."

Barak rubbed his temples. "I thought it was the best course of action at the time. They were not a casual force; you are wholly untested. The Black Guard is specifically designed to combat US forces; we should've been fine. Instead, we got royally fucked. Perhaps...you made the right choice. Where were they heading? The US?"

Mark grimaced, glancing at the dozens of body bags lining the pavement.

"They were heading past Ireland, towards the Atlantic," Mark said, "so, I'm guessing the US. The monster, too...it was rather fanatical about some 'Messiah' or 'God'."

The medic lightly coughed to get Barak's attention. "Sir, his eardrums look to be ruptured. It doesn't seem incredibly serious; it should heal within a few weeks or months. But...he is different, so I'm not sure."

Barak hummed. "So you're saying he might end up permanently deaf? Or that it might also recover in time?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Fuck. Not terrible news, but not great news either. We can probably get some sort of implant if it's permanent, no?"

"Erm, I'm not sure, Sir. As far as I understand, with his skin and muscles being immovable and incredibly strong, it could be infeasible."

"What a ball ache," Barak said, rubbing his forehead. "Right, thanks. Go take a break; you lot are working overtime."

"Yes, Sir."

Barak sighed, interrupted by someone handing him a tablet. He watched Mark peering into the sky, his face of mixed emotions after getting dressed. Typing into the tablet, he nudged Mark with it once he had finished.

Mark took it from Barak, looking at what was written.

[Your hearing might repair over time, half a year at max. It might be nice for you to help with recovery; the armoury has stopped cooking off, but the fire hasn't stopped.]

Mark's eyes went wide as he remembered he had said nothing about earlier. He hit his leg out of frustration as he looked up at the suited man.

"I...may have fucked up."

Barak's eyebrow rose. "...go on?"

"I...erm...may have been on the news."

Barak frowned, his mouth opening wider and wider as the news sunk in.

"What!?"