Pleasure and Pain Part 4

Frag POV

I didn't need Eternus' medical examinations to know I had sustained medium-level abrasions. However, my words didn't matter because the mission was still at hand. So, I tried dragging my injured self over to Ricochet's body in a start. His wound was certainly deep and costly, but I was hoping that I could still drag him out from prior observations. Surprisingly though, he rejected my offer.

"No, go away, leave me be," he said heartbreakingly.

Factoring the shock, I decided to keep going until I saw a blur amongst the shadows. When they stopped moving, I saw Knuckle and Quill in front with their rifles still armed and ready. Quill smiled maliciously at sight.

"May be our best work yet," he said happily in a cocky attitude.

"I think you may be right," Knuckle said in agreement.

At that, their words, Ricochet twitched violently. Then, in horror, all I could see was their smiles getting wider.

"Ooh, I like it when they resist, makes the job all the more fun," Quill said as he leveled the rifle.

I tried to shield Ricochet with my body in vain, only to get left with more laughter.

"You can join your friend if you want; the way you ran already gave us a good ass hunch you could be one of the thieves, so we only need to interrogate one of you. Now any last words?"

Picking up that these may be my final moments, I decided to form the words I've always wanted to say.

"Please," I said in a scratchy and quiet tone while the blaster went off.

Two years of research have made me realize bits and pieces of The Cons backstories and how little of one I had despite our rules and regulations. My earliest memory was in preschool, where I would happily play and sing with the kids as Flint Auge. If things had gone on course, the upper levels would've been all I'd know.

Unfortunately, my life and voice would forever get swallowed up by my ability. My first explosion nearly killed my entire 1st-grade choir class in the middle of a live performance; by the time the authorities came, all they could do was see my trembling vessel in a crater of my own making.

Quickly my family covered up the incident, adamant about trying to "fix" my "condition." Those two words together made me realize the truth of this superhuman society. That power truly defined everything now, and anyone who didn't fit society's hyper-specific requirements was quickly left behind.

My parents only interacted with me through a reinforced glass window and fearful looks for years. The world outside blurred past me through tv and virtual learning classes. By the time I turned 17, my parent's pride finally crumbled, realizing that they couldn't let my imprisonment continue any longer.

Instead of going public, potentially bringing awareness to superhuman counseling, they decided to count on something far more underground. "Pete's Power Palace" is a name that I never want to hear again because the scars from that place were still very much fresh. I could still remember the rusty metal beds, taped-over machinery, and running faucets that would drip annoyingly throughout the day.

Taking the data from my prior explosions, the establishment decided to take a dark turn. My parents didn't want my powers controlled nor accepted; they wanted them gone. And through the myriad of ways to do that, they thought the best way was to drain out the dam effectively. So, for weeks, I was exposed to various stimuli, from olfactory, auditory to sensory.

Sometimes I would explode four times a day; other times, not. Finally, when I had reached my absolute limit, that was when they decided to perform the "procedure." In the dead of night, I got hooked up to a metal chair, cables latched to my body, ready to get supercharges me with enough voltage to potentially "burn" me out. They might as well have lobotomized me, yet I didn't even try to fight back.

Because all my life, my power truly has defined me. Like a tapeworm, it had sucked away at my voice, my choice, and my life. So why should I even have garnered a choice in their removal? But, unfortunately, that decision was a huge miscalculation on my part, for it seems even I underestimated my limitations.

In the rampage of volts across my body, my true power got revealed to all. I didn't know if I had killed anyone or how big the explosion was; all I did know was that I had left my prison in ruins and also the bias of this superhuman society. So for days, I floated around the lower levels, waiting around until I shuffled off the proverbial mortal coil.

That is until I met Eternus. Maybe it was due to some level of Narcissistic Personality Disorder or pure clinical insanity. Still, even after I shooed him away, even after I unknowingly exploded upon him, the only thing he said was this.

"Fine, go ahead and die for all I care. But if you want to get accepted at your best and worst, then you can come with me."

Looking back on that now, most people would assume the sentence as a lackluster proposal. But the very fact that this random enigma had given me a choice when my parents didn't strike a chord with me. My power had done nothing but take from me; I never thought that it would give me something I've always longed for: a choice.

Just like how I didn't expect it to save me! From my back, a wave of concussive force let loose, bathing the dank alleyway in white light as the blast pushed both Knuckle and Quill back several feet! Disbelief overtook me more than my prior wounds realizing that the initial blast was not only intentional but focused as Ricochet remained unharmed. But my observations quickly got interrupted when the two individuals got back up with both of their rifles broken.

"Do you have any idea how much this cost? You're going to pay for that asshole."

"That's funny; I was about to say the same thing to you," A familiar voice said from above.