First Blood. (2)

"Hello there. What's your name?" He asked, smiling warmly.

"Aiden." The boy replied.

"Are you afraid, Aiden?" He asked, to which the boy nodded silently. "Well, it's alright to be afraid, but if you look at your Mommy and your brother and sister, they are scared too. I need you to do me a favour, and try to be brave for them. If you can help your Mommy out with your siblings, I know she would really appreciate that."

The boy looked over at his family, before feeling a gentle, warm hand on his shoulder.

"I know it's unfair to put the responsibility on you, but you are the big brother, and your Mommy needs help. Unfortunately, it's the burden of being the first."

The looked at the old man and nodded, swallowing a lump in his throat as if he was swallowing his fear and nervously shuffled over to his mom to see how he could help. Just then the lights went off as the man stood up straight.

"…how sweet." A muffled, almost distorted voice practically whispered into the older man's ear.

The man stood stiff as a board as chills ran down his spine, mostly due to him recognising the voice. He broke into a cold sweat, as two beads rolled down his face, only to get swallowed up by his beard. Just then, the lights came back on, bathing the cabin in a deep, blood red light that was more vivid than in the previous cabins. The old man felt a terrifyingly familiar presence behind him. Every fibre in his being was reacting to the presence in one way or another, with half of them screaming at him to run, while the other was compelling him to turn around and face the presence. The latter compulsion was the one that won out in the end, as he turned around and was met with a sight he hadn't expected to see again. A tall, broad shouldered person in a body tight cloak that ran all the way to the floor, and then fanned out. A black, nylon looking mask ran out from beneath the cloak, covering the neck and head, and a full skull mask covering the entire head like a skull cap. The figure's silhouette was encapsulated by the cloak, and it stood with its feet together and arms by its side. The two stared at each other for what felt like an eternity in silence, before the one in the mask spoke again.

"It's been a while hasn't it Professor?"

"…it really has. I didn't expect to ever see you again outside of my dreams, Deveraux. Although in this form, you go by Immortal. Which would you prefer I call you?"

"It doesn't matter either way, does it? It's up to you which moniker will be the last word you ever say."

"Ah… you are here for my life."

"Of course I am." The one referred to as Deveraux snapped. "Did you think living your life quietly after your tenure at the Institute would wash away everything you did? The years of experiments… the training, the molding… the missions? With every incision you made with your scalpels, every syringe inserted, and solution injected, every bone broken, all while feeding me the same line you fed that kid about the burden of being first, you only served to strengthen my resolve to not only survive, but escape and bring you all to justice. You and your wretched Institute have created the very tool that will bring about your end. The blood you synthesised to create your secret 'army' of ESPer soldiers is coming back to haunt you all."

"I won't fight for my life, Devereaux. I will not resist. My hands are covered in the blood of thousands, and no amount of repentance and philanthropy will assist in washing them clean. Do what you will."

"I wasn't waiting on your permission to do just that, Professor." Devereaux retorted as a gloved hand slipped out from under the cloak.

Deveraux then placed his fingertips on the older man's chest, right where his heart would be and suddenly, the black eyes of the skull mask started to glow bright read, as too did the glove as something was being done. The Professor's eyes suddenly grew large as he started convulsing, face distorting in pain as the seconds flew by. He was doing his best not to make too much of a fuss or a noise, so as not to draw any attention to them, and he kept his eyes on Devereaux the entire time, even as they became bloodshot and started to bleed.

"I-I have a question for you. Please." The Professor stammered as blood began to spurt and pour from his mouth.

"You likely don't have the time to ask the question, let alone hear the answer – but ask."

Devereaux, who appeared to be done, pulled his hand back and watched as the older man stumbled into his seat as quickly as possible, while blood poured profusely from every available orifice. He fell into his seat, but managed to maintain eye contact the whole time.

"Have… you been… eating… proper…ly?"

The Professor's voice trailed off as the light in his eyes disappeared, seemingly with the few tears that had mixed in with the blood and streamed down his cheeks. Meanwhile the light in Devereaux's eyes glowed brightly and looked as though it was pulsing and flowing from the eye holes of the mask. He then looked over towards the cowering family who despite having kept surprisingly quiet, were wracked with fear. With a wave of the glowing, gloved hand, the eyes of the mother and her children all glowed red faintly.

"I was never here. This man had a heart attack."

"He had a heart attack." The mother repeated in a dull voice.

Devereaux then made his way further into the First-Class, walking in the direction of the cockpit. A few minutes later, the lights within the train went back to normal, no longer flickering or red. Back in his original train car and seat, Devereaux was once again playing with the clips of his briefcase when the old woman looked at him and spoke up.

"You disappeared right when the scary lights came on." She quipped.

"Yeah, I needed to use the facilities. It was so difficult to move, I almost had an accident."

"Oh please, you're much too young and sober to soil yourself in that manner!"

The pair shared a bit of a chuckle, before a look of concern washed over the woman's face.

"Oh dear, are you alright? Your nose is bleeding!"

"Oh. Pardon me." Devereaux said as he reached inside his jacket and pulled out a handkerchief and a small case.

After tending to his bleeding nostrils, he opened the case, pulled out one of three capsules and popped it into his mouth, jerking his head back to assist in swallowing it.

"It seems I exerted myself a bit too much." He said with a dismissive smile.

"Ladies and gentleman, we have cleared the debris and shall be resuming our trip! Also, we apologise if the red lighting frightened anybody, it is just a new feature that allows any authorities on the outside to see if there are any issues in the train, if we were perhaps unable to communicate as much for any reason."

With that, the train started up and moved again, as if nothing had happened, while Devereaux kept the kerchief pressed against his nose as the red glow in his eyes faded, along with those belonging to the drivers.