Chapter 49: Sacrifice Part III

"Fuck... HAP... what- what is happening to me?" Mark questioned, scared, his skin cracking as black lines appeared like veins around the fissures. It came out like enigmatic smoke, not of this world. The process hurt. No, it didn't hurt; it was a chaotic barrage of agony as if his organs were being brutally removed without remorse by unskilled hands, without care or regard for his life. The physical pain was chronically debilitating, yet, the mental aspect was far worse. He could feel it, strange for him considering you don't 'feel' your soul, yet he could register every sensation that hit him. His spirit, the very embodiment of Mark Evans, was being ripped to shreds like a rabid beast feasting upon his living remains. It was torture, every earthly sensation blocked out, removed from existence, to leave only his enduring torment. In its unrelenting and sadistic application of torment, he shrivelled up into a fetal position, no words coming from his mouth.

He didn't believe a moment could last for a lifetime, a mere saying said by those who recalled a memory being more wonderful and longer-lasting than it did. Yet, now he believed it, such a small speck on his life, a few minutes at most, lasting an entire lifetime, ten times over. It wouldn't stop. It couldn't stop. Not until it had accomplished what it wanted. But what that was, he didn't know. He didn't dare to know. For if he did, perhaps, it wouldn't let him go.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Awoken by drops of water from places unknown, his eyes shot open. The orange hue had returned; the red banished to whence it came as Mark lay on the floor. It was dim, the starless Moroccan night reflected in the void-like pupil of his eyes. Hit by a few more driblets, he shifted onto his front, then to his knees and stared into the sky. Dark rumbling clouds sheltered the stars from his sight as more drops of water fell from above, gradually increasing in magnitude.

Huffing out of his nose and pushing onto his feet, he cracked his neck as he inspected his body. As far as he could tell, he didn't look any different. At least, he didn't on the outside. What the Void or himself, presumably, had done to his body, he did not know. Perhaps, he would find out at a later stage; the consequences, or, alternatively, the benefits, coming into view then. Unfortunately, his chest hurt immensely, the pain still ever-present, yet besides that, he felt fine. Great, even.

"HAP? You still here?" He uncertainly questioned into the silent night, not a peep from any living being. That was, until he heard his voice.

'I... can hear again? It healed it? Why? I'm so confused, it doesn't make any sense.'

He stared at the nearby CCTV camera stationed next to a tiny gas station, the feed seemingly dead as far as he could tell. Getting no response, he stared ahead at the blistering, raging inferno lighting up the darkness from a distance.

Mood still solemn despite his hapiness at his hearing returning, Mark narrowed his eyes as they zoomed in, able to discern emergency crews already on the scene, with civilians and news crews surrounding the site. Lights flashed, and helicopters buzzed, all-around as he stared.

"Shit. How long has it been? Why... am I even on the ground? Wasn't the plane going over the Atlantic?" He muttered before grumbling as he thought of the aircraft, "Fuck. He better be dead."

He took off into the clouds, obscuring himself as he stared at the crash site. Mark watched as they fought the flames, charred corpses and burned bones sometimes being brought away as the fire settled, the rain aiding their efforts. There wasn't much left of the wreckage. Most of the metal had melted, and the remains destroyed like brittle materials upon the impact. Yet, thus far, he hadn't spotted Secundo.

"Tsk."

He held his position above as he mulled over his next actions. Whilst he pondered, a subtle presence made itself known from behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw nothing but dark clouds and pouring rain, yet it remained. Concentrating, his eyes turned pure black like the nothingness from which his powers descended as the world's appearance changed in his eyes. It was almost entirely dark, besides insignificant specks of glowing magnificence surrounding what seemed to be small creatures. The bright white lights turned bigger when he stared at the crash site, human figures being particularly noticeable, similar to when he stared at HAP's soul or Barak's.

The presence was no longer a constant in his behind, his sense now directing him to the direction it came from, spotting a tendril. It was almost entirely dark, besides infinitesimally minute specks of a white light showing. He drew it into his mind as he had extended it to Barak previously.

"Mark?" The soft-sounding voice of HAP questioned into his mind, concerned.

"So, it was you. How long was I out? Did the plane turn around?" He asked, rubbing his cheek in thought.

"I'm not entirely sure; the feed suddenly went dead. However, judging from the moment I lost sight, and now, roughly 30 minutes. As for the plane, it likely turned around when it became depressurized, although the Moroccans may have told it to return. What happened?"

"30 minutes!? So he's got away? Fuck!" Mark shouted to himself before regaining his bearings, "Ugh. I'm not sure. We'll... speak about it later. Just like how you're communicating with me. Have you seen him?"

"He was running south into the Sahara, into Mauretania. He also ran into an Aaban military checkpoint and killed them all."

"So, he's like the last." Mark muttered to himself, "What are his wounds like? He should be practically half-dead."

"The Invincible's live up to their reports. I couldn't find any footage from America to confirm what you said, nor what Russo says, but... I understand now. They're a far inferior version of you but better than humans. He didn't look like he was going to die anytime soon, but I'm unsure of their biology."

"Dammit. Where? It's time to finish this fight."

"I can't see much in the Sahara, but he was last seen north of Tindouf in Aaban. The entire area for a few kilometres is completely dead of electronics. If you go, Mark, you need to beware of if Aaban shows up. They may help you against the Americans, or they might hunt you. It's not a minority in Islam that think you aren't a creature of this world."

Mark sighed, "Right. Duly noted. Do I presume it may be an ambush, then? Some kind of electrical jammer? Or just because the Africans are poverty-stricken since the Occupation?"

"Potentially. Aaban is centralised. They do not focus on the outskirts of their nation, not since the collapse. Either way, I have no information for you. If they have more Eneph bullets, this fight may not be ideal. The choice is yours, however. I merely worry for your safety."

He smiled at her words, the AI's personality growing on him, despite the intricacies of her existence, "Don't worry, I'll be fine. I can dodge the bullets; they go at what, Mach 8?" Finished asking, Mark took off to end the fight, once and for all.

There was a short pause for HAP responded, "It depends. The default is around Mach 6 with around 2 seconds of acceleration. The more Hellon on the tip, the faster it goes. So, theoretically, it could go many times faster."

"Mach 6? That... isn't as fast as I thought. Although it's no wonder they are harder to dodge up close. I guess Russo presumed I would just get hit by them, considering he never told me and just went for the armour. Although... he wasn't wrong."

"Knowing the speed means little. If you can't dodge it, you can't dodge it. If you can, then you can. Each bullet is custom, so they vary a lot. You won't ever get a standard speed."

"I see." Mark said as he dropped from above, descending onto a small deserted hill overlooking a dark and silent village.

Other than a small human settlement, there was nothing around but desert, dry and cold, and full of orange and brown in the immediate vicinity. Mark remarked, to himself, that the sight had a natural beauty to it, something that humans couldn't replicate, not now. Yet, despite this, he knew the fate it would face. With reinforcements likely, this place was going to turn into a warzone of cracks, crevices and craters everywhere.

He huffed through his nose before quietly muttering, "Might as well get on with it. Hopefully, he is here. Fucking Secundo."

Cautiously flying overhead the village outskirts, he focused for movement, any movement. Yet, paradoxically for a civilian centre, there was nothing: no dogs or cats, no pets, or flickering of lights, nothing. It was completely dead, like space or an area uninhabited by humans. The vibe was eerie, a presumption arising in Mark that he would find the villain here. Perhaps, he would have to save the villagers, too, unless they are added to Secundo's list of murders.

With his hearing hindered by absolute silence, his sight was the primary sense. He could tell something was interfering with the electronics, potentially a jammer or an EMP; he didn't know; his knowledge on the subject wasn't extensive.

Staying in the air for his safety, he lingered and hovered across the village. There were no more than fifty buildings in total. A mixture of homes, shops and other miscellaneous structures for the daily life of an Aaban citizen. A strange sight, considering the massive strides in advancements the Aaban government has undertaken in the ruined cities of old Egypt, Libya and the rest.

With no movement over a few minutes, Secundo perhaps retreating to another location nearby, he descended next to a house. Landing without issues, pivoting on the spot, and seeing nothing out of the ordinary, he turned to the mud-brick house and entered.

The door was battered, old and rotten, but the insides contrasted the outside, a comely home. Rugs lined the floor, a television beside two scratched couches, and the kitchen to his left. Food was prepared, a small amount considering the likely poverty-stricken family, but that, in itself, was strange.

'They left the food out? Not many families here can afford to do that…They're here.'

Slowly moving further inwards, he peeked into one of the bedrooms. There was blood, a fair amount splattered across the floor and walls, but no bodies. Exiting the house, he glanced left, spotting a tiny glint in the window of a large building, the light on and guessing it to be the village meeting hut. Spooked at potential death staring at him, nerves on edge, his eyes lit up at the window, the laser following shortly after. It blew through the bricks like a fist through plaster; the house set on fire moments later as the walls and ceiling collapsed and melted.

Stopping the beam, he slowly walked towards the fire. There were momentary screams, many of them, more than he could make out. Arriving before the building, the ceiling collapsing, he nervously entered the blaze. Bound bodies littered the floor: Men, women, children, infants. They were what he could hear. No guns, no Invincibles, no Secundo. Just locals from the village, stacked on top of one another, burnt into charred remains.

Mark stared at them, the visions of Amity Hospital teetering into his sight, blurring the lines of reality and hallucination. He slightly staggered as his eyes widened and his anger returned, spotting the gun with no one holding it. Gritting his teeth, the fault not his to bear, the familiar red returned to his irises. Clenching his fists, he turned towards the outside as he barked into the village, "Secundo!"

Stepping out from the fire, his already ripped and battered suit became caked in ash and the soot of the deceased. He stared ahead, the monster standing roughly twenty metres away, no weapons in his hands. The man's face was still horrifically scarred, pieces of bone still painfully piercing the skin, and the violet-coloured blood dried all over his expression.

Mark huffed like a bull, the bones in his fist cracking from the pressure as the ground splintered around him, broken pieces of the Earth fighting against gravity as they floated upwards.

Secundo spoke calmly, his countenance weary, "You are a monster, Mark. I want you to remember this conversation, no matter who lives or dies here today. You… are a monster."

He snorted in response, "Always thinking yourself so superior. You don't deserve to speak. To have a voice. I'm going to rip it out of you."

The monster replied with a grunt and snort of his own, "I won't need a voice. What's done is done. The whole world will know who you are. Who... we are. Those brave few, who sacrificed their lives in the discovery of a vile evil."

Mark shook his head in exasperation, "You really believe his lies, don't you? Your… Messiah. I pity you, Secundo. Despite my hatred, my disgust, and my rage. I feel for you. Nothing but a pawn, used and discarded like the last one."

Secundo's eye dropped, and a gruesome frown appeared, "Like… the last one? Osseus didn't deserve to die, Mark. You could have let him leave, but you didn't. Hunted him down like a fucking dog! You are just as much a pawn as I am. The only difference is that I know I am one. You do not."

With an expression of mockery, Mark spoke, "Like a dog? Like he slaughtered most of the Watford Base? They were pigs to the slaughter! They didn't stand a fucking chance. And what do you know, you're no different. Degenerate pieces of shit. We are nothing alike. I have my freedom."

"You don't understand, Mark. We… are the superior race! We are better! Stronger, faster, smarter! Everything positive about humanity, but better. Everything was on track; the world would become a utopia. A paradise. Until… you came along." He grimly chuckled, "You think you are free? You care so much about public opinion. What people think of you. You are trapped in a cage of your own creation."

Debris floating around him, Mark shook his head in pity, "Superior? Perhaps, some of humanity's virtues were improved upon, but… so were its failures. Sadism, lust, arrogance-"

"Heh, you're right. Of course, you are. The rest might not see it, but I do. Osseus did, too. You know, we're all broken. To survive… to endure what we endured. We all had something to live for, something to get us through the rites."

"And what could you possibly live for?"

"You're ignorant, Mark. Just a petulant child who hasn't seen the world. Osseus strived to find the rapists and murderers of his 11-year-old sister. That is who you killed. A good man, yet, from your point of view, as evil as they come."

"Do you expect me to feel sorry? To feel grief? Innocents, I can and will. But for you… sub-humans. Never."

"Heh, perspective, Mark. Sacrifices must be made to unite the world. Take humanity to the stars and make something of ourselves. Discover our purpose. Why... the Element does what it does. That is what kept me alive. The desire to know the unknown. I want to know, but yet... my time has come. The grim reaper is knocking at my door. So, why not open... and see what's on the other side?"

Mark frowned at the strange words, yet coldly scoffed as the monster charged, every step cracking and splintering the dry desert floor, "As I said before, Secundo. You're in my domain now."

The obscene heat returned as Mark's entire eyes turned bright red, the laser shooting forward at insane speeds and colliding with the raging minotaur. Secundo grunted as his skin burned, then melted, yet he forced himself onward without regard, hastily approaching Mark. Watching as the giant neared him; he focused harder, the beam intensifying in heat and pressure, subtle blue flickers appearing amongst the red.

"Arghhhhhhh!" Secundo screamed, yet he soldiered on, like his training taught him, his instructors, and his friends.

Fuelled with rage at his inevitable fate, he pushed against the laser as his muscles bulged out of the skin, blood leaking before instantly evaporating. Secundo screamed once more, as his silhouette met Mark's gaze right before him, bulldozing into the younger man. The beam stopped as Mark was forced a few surprised steps back, Secundo dropping to one knee.

Mark grunted from the pain in his chest. His sight returned to the monster or, at least, what was left of him. Charred blacker than coal, the skin destroyed or melded with black muscle and his eyes nothing but sludge in their sockets. Hairless, without eyes and with his face liquefied and body no more than a husk, Mark towered over him.

"Disgusting. Now you look the same inside and out. Fitting." Mark uttered in contempt, struggling to hold himself back from killing the monster.

Secundo smiled like something out of a horror movie, lipless, skinless and the burnt teeth barely protecting the insides of his mouth. He spoke a moment later, the voice horrifyingly hoarse and cracking, constantly, "You... are... a monster."

With that said, the giant abruptly stood and bear-hugged Mark, holding his as tightly as possible. His expression was serene and peaceful; Mark's the opposite, confusion, before his danger sense spiked. Eyes widening, his hands and wrists turning partially void-like black, he broke out from the entrapment. The sheer force broke Secundo's arms, the weakened muscles ripping at the seams as small quantities of blood leaked from the wounds as Mark turned around.

The bullet was only a few tens of metres away, closing in fast despite his perception increase, straight for his head. He knew he would die; there was no dodging, especially when another came from his left out of the corner of his eye. Unable to escape, yet vowing for his fate not to end here, Mark did the only option he had left.

Raising a hand in each direction, airwaves propelled out from the movement, he commanded the Void's essence to stop the bullets under any circumstance. Grasping them mentally, he grunted as a blood vessel popped inside his nose, the nostrils bursting like a dam with blood as his head dropped.

Yet, when he glanced upwards, time resuming its natural pace, the bullets had stopped. They were shaking like caged and starving hyenas, the essence and his mental control struggling to hold them. With instant death averted, he shot upwards into the sky with a sonic boom as he released the bullets back to their trajectory. Up in the darkened clouds, rain still pouring, he coughed as more ichor leaked from his mouth, an explosion resounding. Wiping it with his hand, he glared hatefully at the ground and zoomed into five similar figures rushing towards Secundo. Mark clenched his hands into fists, explosive lightning cracking behind him; he ascended further into the sky.

Reaching a point above the clouds, hidden from view, the starless night replaced with bright white light, he stared downwards. Taking a moment to prepare himself, for the possibility of death, at the fight he was about to take, he descended. His speed instantaneous, Mark shot beyond the speed of sound in milliseconds as he dived-bombed towards the figures, death and ruin fated to appear.