Chapter 54: Actions øf a Renegade II

Landing with a muddy thump, he glanced around at the cold and embittered graveyard; fog descended and covered the land in an almost evil vibe. He turned to the grave, a rather large headstone that etched his family's names onto stone for all eternity, their bodies laid to rest.

"You're being rather quiet, HAP. What am I supposed to do here?"

The grass rustled as a light breeze came through, lingering dew dripping from trees and forming small puddles in the mud. Mark crouched as his fingers went over the markings in the stone, Elise's resting site being a few graves down.

"I am... new to emotions. But, I know what I am about to ask of you will... be unpleasant." HAP spoke, her voice quiet, "It's a hypothesis, something that I think you need to know if true, but I cannot verify it. I can understand if you don't, but... their bodies might not be there."

"What do you mean?" He nervously chuckled, "Where is this coming from? Explain, HAP or..."

"I'm sorry. It makes sense, logically. The explosion made their bodies unable to be... respectable for the funeral. So it was a closed coffin; no one ever saw the bodies, besides maybe the Montjoys. America took charge of the site because of traces of the Element, and they gathered they are your family."

"You're saying... the Montjoys did something?"

"Human psychology is a mystery, even for me, and when you had an argument with Freya Montjoy, it started to... click? I think she was copying with a decision the family made over her daughter's body. I think... they sold them to the US. They're experimenting with them, trying to figure out why you are different."

The gentle breeze picked up, turning sharp as his eyes flittered around the gravesite. Thinking about it, HAP made sense, logically, but he didn't think a family could be so callous. He was in denial; he knew it, yet couldn't remove it. It was disgusting. Repugnant. Horrid. A crime he couldn't forgive. But there was only one way to find out. To break into the grave.

'Six creatures... five if they took Elise, but who is the last?'

"HAP. Has Elise been... taken?"

"I am unsure. Her family never saw the body, even for confirmation; the US may have taken her due to your... unique relationship, as a priority."

"Then, is there another?"

The AI paused, for a poignant moment, "The old man, your neighbour, Hakeem Turner, was potentially taken as well. Widowed and no children or family, I can't be certain, but considering he went in, and got you out, then likely."

"What? Mr Tuner's dead? How?"

"I don't have any autopsy reports, but presumably a mixture of smoke inhalation or burns, perhaps age. How do you know there was another?"

Mark stayed silent as he gazed at the grave, his fingers flexing, unsure. He huffed as he outstretched his arms, hands shaking and questioning whether he was truly going to do this.

'I want to know. I need to know.'

Closing his eyes momentarily before he opened them, he controlled the Void's essence, seeping into the ground like motor oil. Meeting what he presumed to be roughly 150 centimetres, he clenched the dirt with his mind with no pain or strain. The soil turned dense, the atoms forced together with high pressure as it was brought out into the graveyard and dumped hastily to the side.

A thin layer of dirt remained, Mark's rough calculations being semi-accurate as he mentally removed another section. Carelessly putting it to the right, he saw the coffins. There were four in total, Elise's further down the dirt path.

"Forgive me. But... I need to know."

Apology finished, he pried the wooden lid off, the wood snapping as it opened. He closed his eyes as he removed it and placed it to the side, begging the world for HAP to be wrong. Taking a deep breath before unlocking his vision, he looked down. It was empty.

With eyes widened and his mind momentarily stunned at the truth, he started stuttering and mumbling to himself. He opened the rest with urgency, throwing the lids into the sky, but they were all unfilled. The bodies were gone. He couldn't make sense of it. Why? Why would they take them? Why would they allow them to be taken? He knew the answers or, at least, the assumptions. But yet, all he could think about was... why?

His hands limply fell to his sides, his brain unable to cope, his thoughts in disarray. But one thing prevailed. Why question himself... when he could ask the ones responsible? Mark tightly clenched his fists, the bones cracking as the earth ruptured, spreading throughout the church grounds. The dirt trembled and shook as gravestones cracked and shattered into piles of rock. The orange in his eyes turned redder than they had ever been, pure crimson as a supernova of pure emotion spewed from within the irises.

He floated upwards, pitch-black thunder clouds forming above as ebony lightning smacked and cracked all around, buzzing between the clumps of vapour like tendrils of snakes. Staring at the church, his mind blinded, he opened his fist as the Void's essence surrounded it nigh-instantly. He couldn't stand the place, all these days, weeks, months visiting... an empty grave, robbed of its occupants. Opening his palm as he gained control of the building's foundations, unbothered whether people were inside, he compressed it with his hands. The walls fractured and burst, a hydraulic press compressing tonnes of rock and stone effortlessly. Glass shattered, fragments sprinkling the ground like snow as he let everything go, an enormous crash echoing out into the sleepy city.

Glancing at Elise's gravesite, he removed the dirt and yanked the coffin lid open; nothing inside. His eyes burned as he stared at it, his hair blowing in the increasing wind, quiet howls whipping past.

"HAP." Mark uttered, scarily calm, "What am I to you?"

"My father. My creator." She answered instantly, with no hesitation, "Everything I have is owed to you."

"Will you follow me... no matter the consequences? No matter what I am about to do? Are you with me?"

"Always."

"I want all of the Montjoys."

"There's fourteen in total, eight at the Montjoy family home on the outskirts of Leicester."

"I know where it is."

Silent, he shot off into the distance; the church left in ruins as sirens blared and converged on the apocalyptic site. A loud sonic boom followed him as he rapidly approached the mansion, locating it and landing with great force, his cold eyes burning like the sun.

His landing shattered the pavement as a ripple of kinetic energy uprooted the tiles and sent them flying in every direction, deadly projectiles luckily not hitting anyone. Stomping towards the house, stepping on broken window glass, he arrived at the door. Big and heavy and made of oak, he snorted at their luxury as he kicked it open. It cracked and splintered, a butler nearly exploding as one of them collided with him, his spine obliterated by the wall.

Entering a dining room, three family members inside and quivering at his abrupt entrance and the noises of Armageddon outside. He recognised one as Amelia's grandparent, the other side from Freya and the patriarch of the family, alongside a middle-aged couple.

"M- Mark?" The aged man said, shouting, "What are you doing? What's going on!?"

Appearing before him and his hand grabbing the patriarch by the neck with enough room to talk, he snorted as he stared into his green eyes.

"You know what you've done." He spat, "Did you give them away? The bodies?"

His eyes widened in shock, face pale as sweat formed across his brow and back, "W- W- We were forced! This is madness, Mark! L- Let's talk about this... like civil people."

The other two in the room cowered in a corner, the woman beside the man as she spoke, "Yes! Yes, Mark. Calm down, we can expl-"

Her torso violently exploded, Mark's superheated beam ending her life in a heartbeat, her male partner covered in her blood and entrails. He stared at the wall for a moment before looking down, his head bobbing and then puking to the side.

"Mark! Thi- This is crazy!" The patriarch screamed, "Stop this, right now! Y- You don't want to be a monster."

"You admitted to it, and you call me a monster? You people are far worse; humanity is. All you've done is lie and betray and go behind my back. This was the final straw. I've had enough!"

Throwing the elderly male to the ground, he stomped on his knee, obliterating it and spreading its remnants across the wooden dining room floor.

"No more lies! Tell me! Why!?"

Unable to answer, doing nothing but crying out and panicking, Mark's blazing eyes turned to the other Montjoy in the room. He was sat on his knees in a pool of blood and vomit, eyes listless as he stared at the body, whispering to it.

"You'll be fine. You'll be fine. They can fix you. They can."

Eyes emotionless as he gazed at the sight, Mark walked beside the man and asked him a question. Predictably, he didn't reply, Mark's fist going through the head and splattering it against the navy blue walls, staining the house in death. Returning to the elderly family member, he crouched at the man's feet.

"I just want to know, why? Answer me, and the pain disappears."

"You don't scare me, cunt." The man scoffed, tears flooding down his face, "I served in the Occupation. Seen things you could never imagine! Amelia betrayed the family. I merely got some returns for a petulant child."

"Heh, so it was over family drama? You were lucky to have her born into you." He shook his head, "You say I don't scare you? Well... I should."

Tapping the other leg as the bones burst out of the skin and the force rippling further up the limb, breaking both bone and muscle arbitrarily, the man screamed. His fist and head slammed into the ground repeatedly as he shouted in between his agony.

"You aren't human! A fuckkking monster!"

"No. Perhaps... I don't want to be."

Mark stood up, watching the wretched figure flail on the floor. His body was going cold, blood pouring out by the litres as Mark watched, unbothered, staring into the man's eyes as he died. To think all of this was because she married his father for love rather than following the family's wishes. Ironic that they had caused their own downfall for momentary greed and arrogance.

Extending his hearing, he blew through the ceiling, and then a nearby wall, and then another, and then another, smashing into a pink child's bedroom. Littered with girly toys, he spotted two females crouched in a corner, making themselves small. His eyes blazed as he stared at them, thunder rumbling overhead as spots of rain hit the window.

The older of the two, roughly in her teens compared to the other, around ten, stood before him, her entire body shaking, her voice stuttering.

"Stay back, Mark! Wh- What are you doin-"

Unable to finish her sentence, he sprinted through her as the woman's body exploded into red mist. Crimson covered the wall behind her; Mark also enclosed in it as his appearance became scarier than it was before. The little girl screamed, Mark slightly wincing from the high-pitch sound, the shrill wail rippling through him as he was reminded of what Osseus used against him. Inadvertently reliving traumatic memories, he angrily grunted before his beam shot out and sliced the girl in half from head to toe. The blood-soaked wall crumbled from the laser, falling with a clack and bang.

Shaking his head at the girl's scream, he spread his hearing again. The sound of dull sobbing, and quiet whispering, came from far below, potentially a basement or panic room. Flying, he went through wall and floor until he arrived at a metal door attached to some kind of trophy room. Parts of the ceiling fell behind him, the building beginning to shake. Grabbing the door, his fingers piercing the metal like a knife through pie, he yanked it from its frame and tossed it into another wall, causing it to come crashing down.

There were three of them, the last of those at the household, all their eyes lingering upon his bloodied body. With understanding flashing through their eyes, sobs and wails came from a couple on the right side.

His eyes narrowed as more shrill cries resounded through his ears as the laser instantly shot out, silencing them forever. The left-over grandma watched as their bodies erupted into an explosive cacophony of blood, flesh and bone; glistening organs spewed across the room, their vitality coating her. Yet, she remained surprisingly calm, her pupils glaring at him with pure hatred, one that, if looks could kill, would butcher him a billion times.

"So much for a hero, then. Finally, reveal-"

"Shut up."

Her body turned to sludge as he sprinted towards her, his fist exploding her chest as guts slithered out. Her vision fell, unable to register what happened as her last moments of sight were at the floor. Unmoving, the light slowly leaving her eyes, she stared at the couple, blood seeping into her vision from her relatives. Or, perhaps, that was her own? She didn't know, and her brain couldn't continue; the thoughts ceased milliseconds later.

Turning around, his audible range expanded to cover the entire estate; he could vividly hear sirens blaring into the sky. Then, as he frowned, the clicks of guns, safety off. Helicopters abounded above, almost certainly either news or where the presumed soldiers arrived from. With short strides as his shoes crunched on glass, he strolled through the hallway, back towards the demolished entrance.

Mid-way there, he spotted a maid, young and in her teens, tearfully plucking shards from a mirror from her leg on the floor. The ankle was twisted almost ninety degrees from her leg, white showing from the skin. Seeing the logo of the house family on her dress, he slightly tilted his head. His eyes burning red, the beam shot out and ended her life instantly.

Exiting the building, he stared into the black sky, covered by storm clouds. The rain had increased its tempo, dropping in vast quantities as it mixed with the blood, trickling down his stained clothes. Hearing boots at the bottom of the stairs leading towards the garden, he glanced down.

The Black Guard soldiers halted their advance upon his arrival, clear hesitation and uncertainty in their movement. Yet, despite this, they still pointed their barrels towards him, the leader stepping forward.

"Mark?" A familiar voice said.

His eyes narrowed at the man, face entirely hidden by a tinted visor and gas mask. He thought for a moment. The man had an aggressive Scottish accent and sounded rough, sandpaper-esque. Then, it came to him, the man who rescued him from the hospital in early December, almost two months ago. A lieutenant named Heath, his first name lost to his memory.

"Mark... you need to stop. Calm down and... come with us."

He snorted, "You're going to arrest me?"

"You've... killed innocent people, Mark. We are not your enemy... we just want to help."

Flying towards the sky, he looked down at the man, "I don't need it."

Mark turned to face the mansion, his eyes burning blue and sped towards the structure. Walls crumbled and wood burned; the ceiling collapsed inward as a massive bonfire lit up, the blue flames spiralling into the sky, prowling towards the garden.

A gunshot, the high-speed, supersonic projectile smacked into him before crumpling and gravity taking ahold of it. Mark frowned, his beam off as he did a 180, staring at the soldiers. Lieutenant Heath's eyes broadened beneath his visor, hurriedly turning around to look at the fool who shot, as his arm reached out.

'Did I not save these ingrates? And they fucking shoot me?'

"No! Mark!" He screamed.

His shout too late, debatable whether it would have stopped the god-like being; Heath found his entire squad obliterated seconds later. The ground turned to melted sludge, a fire flaring like the mansion, the garden in flames as it licked and preyed on passing police.

The soldier turned towards Mark, his gun raised as he let out a war cry, the rifle blasting bullets in automatic fire, bouncing off the super-human. Watching with pitying and mocking eyes, Mark burst upwards and into the storm, the lightning quaking the sky and deep drums boomed alongside them.

"HAP, we tested you showing me images. Time to put it to good use. Lead me to the rest."

HAP stayed silent, flickering images gradually solidifying in the air pointed his way as he orientated himself to follow. He flew with furious speed, a rippling boom erupting in his wake, the clouds parting for their king. Moving northbound, his figure appeared above the market town of Loughborough, a short distance from Leicester.

He watched from above a four-story building, the link vividly highlighting a car driving through a commercial area, their phones betraying their location. Floating overhead, he shot down to the asphalt like a drill, smashing into the land in front of the car. The impact destroyed the intersection; the road ripped from its foundations as traffic lights fell and buildings crumbled; cars pushed into the air and onto their backs, occupants in unknown conditions.

Another middle-aged coupled sat in front with a younger son in the back seat, all staring ahead as red eyes glowed ominously through the dust and debris, the figure fuzzy. Then, the red turned into the sun, something shooting and covering their vision before them as their lives ended. Lasering horizontally, Mark showed no mercy, their faces reminiscent of Amelia's: the same looks, the same expressions and similar mannerisms.

Watching as the car exploded into flames, engine parts, gears and metal barrelling through the air, he stared at their charred corpses. They looked better this way, he thought. It disgusted him that they were all so different in personality, yet in everything else, they were truly 'family'. Amelia didn't deserve to have her name tarnished by the Montjoys; she didn't deserve to have her body desecrated by the US, given by those she once called her blood.

But he would get to those soon; he would burn Void Solutions and America to the ground for what they did to him. To those he loved. Yet, first, he had to erase the Montjoys; set an example that he had, finally, had enough.

Pausing for but a short moment as HAP recalibrated, rummaging through social media and their devices, tracking them, his directions appeared. Taking off, the rain washing the degenerate family's filth away, he headed further north to the city of Nottingham. Clouds, rain, thunder and lightning pursued him over the urban area, residents baffled by the freak weather change.

Hitting the ground with force, hundreds were knocked away by the shockwave as he gazed inside a restaurant. Their phones ratted them out, HAP showcasing their location as he bulldozed through the glass windows and beside them. His hand struck out, eviscerating half of a teenager's body with a backhand, his eyes burrowing a blazing hole through the father's face. The mother barely had time to react before she met the same fate, Mark blitzing towards her and pushing. Her body turned into mist as it covered both patrons and restaurant.

Booming upwards, the establishment turned upside down by a close-range sonic boom; he arrived back in the clouds. Stationary, unable to get the horrific images from his head of the monsters, slowly understanding that they were probably his family, he stared at his red hands.

"You've... come back. Are you done?" HAP questioned innocuously.

Mark grit his teeth, closing his hands into fists, "Not yet. I will be soon."

"You know you will die. Right? Even if you don't, the world is truly against you now."

His vision disappeared as his eyelids closed, his voice soft, "I know... I know. But I need to do it. I cannot forgive myself otherwise."

"I'm with you all the way, Mark. You are perfect; humanity is not. But... you can make them. So do it... father."

With a slightly sad smile, he set course for the US, and blew through the clouds. Death was likely, and the world would change, for better or for worse. But the humans have pushed him too far; now, it was time to push back.