Arrogance: Volume One of Ebb & Flow

I drift in and out of consciousness, never staying awake for more than a moment. When I finally wake up, I’m floating inside a glass pod in a white room with an oxygen mask covering my entire face. It doesn’t match my memory of the local hospital, St. Augustine. Where am I? A light flashes green above me, and the fluid drains out of the bottom of my pod. To my right, the wall slides open, revealing three people.

I see two women in all-black tactical gear with the letters BNA emblazoned in gold on the chest piece. The woman on the left looks like she was ripped from a Viking tale. Deep red hair braided down her back and shaved on the sides with a draconic-looking serpent tattooed on her face. She dwarfs the other two by a wide margin, and she’s built like a Norse God. Her partner is a petite black woman with short curls. Unlike her partner, she’s wearing a helmet and holding an automatic rifle. Since they entered, she hasn’t taken her finger off the trigger. She has deep frown lines and a scowl. The final member of the trio is a man in his late fifties. Bald but for a few wisps of hair lazily combed over. Thick-rimmed glasses and a white button shirt leading to brown pants held up by a belt. He wears a white lab coat over the rest of his outfit. Who are they?

“Good, you’re awake. It was a bit touch and go there for a while. Oh, forgive my manners. I am Doctor Maximillian Sol. Just have to run a couple of tests, and then we’ll get you out of here,” he said.

My throat is so dry and sore. How long have I been here that it hurts to speak? I do a quick check, and I can still feel Davis’ ability nestled inside me. After a coughing fit, I finally ask him where I am.

“You’re in one of the BNA centers—Codename Saturn, to be exact. Afraid I can’t tell you where, though; it’s top secret hush-hush,” he answered.

“Doctor. He’s a civilian. You can’t just share international secrets. The director was explicit about reminding you of that,” the shorter woman said.

“Relax, Agent Hale. I’m just attempting to ease the tension in our patient. Have you never heard of bedside manners? Now, do you remember anything about what happened to you?” He asked me.

The fog in my brain hasn’t fully lifted yet, but I remember the party. I remember the smell of burning blood, cooked flesh, and acrid smoke. I remember my classmates’ lifeless eyes, and I remember taking the lives of two of them. Davis’ outburst caused my trigger event. I can feel his ability within me, locked away safely. Good, I’ll need it going forward.

“Are you still with us, son? I’m worried the patient may have brain damage.” Doctor Sol said.

“I’m fine, sorry—just a little groggy. I, I remember an attack at the party—the fire burning everywhere. I remember trying to find a way out to escape. I think I jumped out of a window and then nothing before waking up here,” I lied.

Wait, what if they can tell when I lie? Damnit, I am not awake enough for this.

“Heart rate and brainwaves are stable. The Neuroscan shows no irregularities. All mental faculties look to be unharmed.” Agent Hale said.

It's good to know there’s nothing wrong with my brain. I’ve heard that too much smoke inhalation can lead to disastrous consequences. While I’m here, I should fish for some information.

“Excuse me, but I have a couple of questions. The fire damaged my arms so badly, but they’re back to normal now. How? And I went to the party with my friends and girlfriend, do you know what happened to them? Are they? Are they alive?”

“The answer to your first question is simple; I’m a once-in-a-millennium genius. I created Liquid Lazarus, as you’ve experienced firsthand. Any injury of the flesh may be healed, bringing even the most helpless back from the depths of hell. I have touched upon the realm of divinity, my boy.” He replied with a religious zeal to it.

Wow, finding someone who’s all fire and brimstone is rare these days. Formalized religions are on a decline since people started triggering, and you had people who could control the weather and lift cars. There are still people who believe, but it’s far less common than it used to be. Whatever this Liquid Lazarus is, it clearly works. My body is completely healed, without any redness or scarring.

“You have something that can bring back someone from the brink of death? It could save so many lives; why haven’t I heard about it before?” I asked.

“It isn’t widely available, is why. If a Neuvohuman didn’t cause the wounds you sustained, you wouldn’t have received the treatment. The BNA doesn’t have the resources needed to make Liquid Lazarus universally accessible.” The doctor replied.

“In accordance with Section Four of the NeuvoHuman Accords, The BNA shall provide any and all victims of tragedies caused by Neuvohumans the highest level of Tinkertech care available.” Agent Hale added on.

He is a Tinkerer. She may not have meant to, but she just confirmed it. If only there were a way to take his power, too.

The power I gained at the party was well worth the third-degree burns and any scarring I got. However, a clean bill of health and becoming a Neuvohuman is a cherry on top. My triggering showed me my power but also showed me that it comes with a price. One that I am uniquely suited to pay. I can take Neuvohuman’s abilities, but a part of them comes with it. In Davis’ case, it was his fury, his raw rage. So far, it hasn’t caused any issues, and truthfully, I’m interested to see what it feels like when it happens. I finally have an emotion of my very own to experience. Even if I didn’t feel any excitement from everything at the party, I found a reason to search for new powers to take.

“I’m not sure about any of your friends, but you’re the last of the survivors to wake up. The others were released weeks ago. Agents Hale and Sigrid will handle getting you back. I have many other projects I must get to, so I’ll be leaving you.” He said.

Doctor Maximillian Sol leaves the same way he came in. My pod rinses me with water and then drains through a hole at the bottom. The glass slides into the floor. Now I’m naked and alone with two terrifying-looking women. Agent Sigrid hands me a paper bag with a towel and some clothes. They both head outside my room to wait for me to change. I dry myself off and take a peek at the clothing. Grey sweatpants, a grey sweatshirt, grey boxers, and sneakers. Couldn’t they swing for socks? Each item fits my body perfectly. Creepy.

I walk over to the wall, and it opens instantly. The hallway is the same clinical white as the room I came from. I see Agent Sigrid leaning against a support pillar while Hale stands ramrod straight. In her hands is a tablet, while her gun is hanging from a strap on her shoulder.

“Follow us, Eryk. We need to complete your exit interview, and then we’ll get you the information about your friends,” Agent Hale commanded.

“Exit interview?” I asked.

“Yes. We need to get your statement and ask you a few questions,” Agent Hale answered.

“Um, why?” What is this about?

“You were part of a Neuvohuman attack; a crime occurred, and for that, we need your statement. Why, do you have something to hide?” She asked.

I stop moving, halting in the middle of the hall. Do they know about what happened?

“Hah, Hale, I told you before. You do not have a face for jokes; you’re too scary,” Agent Sigrid said.

We continue down the hall, and I won’t risk saying anything else until we reach our destination. The wall slides open, revealing an empty all-white room with a table, three chairs, and a camera set up facing the single chair.

“Take a seat on that side of the table, and we can begin,” Agent Hale said.

I take my seat and start fidgeting around to seem anxious. Anxious but not guilty is what I want. The goal is to look restlessly overwhelmed by what is going on.

“State your name and age for the camera,” she said.

Sigrid is leaning back in her chair, looking bored by everything going on. Hale is staring at me like she can read my soul.

“Eryk Richard Blakely, seventeen,” I answered.

“Don’t look it,” Agent Sigrid said quietly.

“Tell us what happened at the party,” she commanded.

“I, along with my three friends and girlfriend, went to Jake Deckler’s senior party. After a while, my girlfriend and I snuck off to the Deckler’s cellar to be alone.”

“Makes sense you got a girlfriend with a body like that,” Sigrid said.

“AGENT SIGRID! That is incredibly inappropriate,” Agent Hale hissed.

Is she hitting on me? Is this some sort of a variation of good cop/bad cop? She must be a Neuvohuman if they keep her around despite her rotten personality.

“Step outside, Helga, before you say something we’ll all regret,” Hale said.

Sigrid steps out, and the wall closes behind her.

“Please continue, Eryk; you said that you were partying on the second floor with your friend?”

Ah, and that is the game we are playing.

“No, I was in the cellar with my girlfriend,” I replied.

“My mistake. Continue.” Hale said.

“We heard a loud noise, and my girlfriend said something about an earthquake. That’s when I left her and went upstairs to investigate.”

“You left your girlfriend behind during a possible earthquake?” Hale asked.

“As I told her then, we don’t get earthquakes on the east coast. And it’s better to hunker down in the basement when there’s a natural disaster, especially in New England.”

“Okay, and then what?”

“I heard screaming and could see fire. I ran toward the screaming, and a support beam fell on me, trapping me underneath. I struggled against it, and that’s how I ended up with all the burns. Eventually, I was able to move the beam, and from there, I made my way toward a window in an attempt to get out. Then I woke up here,” I answered.

“You escaped without trying to find your friends or your girlfriend?” She asked.

Let’s turn the tables on her.

“I was scared,” I mumbled.

“What? Please speak up for the camera.”

“I was scared, okay? After that beam fell, I thought I was going to die and be cooked alive,” I said, looking down at the table. “I’m not proud of how I acted, and that’s why I need to know what happened to them. Please, I need that they’re okay and I didn’t kill my friends.”

Tears fall from my face as I cradle my head in my hands. Stifle the sniffling; make it look like you are doing your best to look brave. I don’t look up; I need to really sell my performance. I hear the door open as Sigrid enters the room again. I hear footsteps getting closer to me, and then I feel a hand touch my shoulder. Surprisingly, it is Sigrid.

“We’re done here, Hale. The kid’s been through enough,” she said.

I guess they are done playing games with me. I wipe my eyes on my sleeve and look at the two agents.

“Stand up, Mr. Blakely. We’ll bring you to the desk and we can find out the status of your friends,” Hale said, shutting the camera off.

Hale walks in front of me, and Sigrid follows behind. They are escorting me like a warden with a prisoner. Is this part of their training, or do they still not trust me? Sigrid is definitely a Neuvohuman, but her ability or abilities remain a mystery. There’s only one way to find out, but I doubt she would sit still for the five minutes it would take. I don’t know if taking a Neuvohuman’s power hurts, and I can’t ask Davis.

“Excuse me. The doctor said it’d been weeks since the others woke up. What’s today's date?”

“June 15th. You were out for over a month, kid.” She said.

Over a month? I underestimated how bad my injuries were. I missed graduation and my father’s return. Losing a month is not great, but a plan has started forming in my brain. The only way to get more powers and emotions is to take them, and I doubt anyone would give them willingly. If that is the case, then I will just have to take them forcefully. I take a peak at the tablet in Hale’s hands and see a headline from an article. New Farford Massacre: Ninety-seven casualties. That is a lot of dead kids. I do not recall seeing that many corpses; the rest probably perished in the fire. The tragedy should make one part of my plan easier.

As we walk, I keep track of the route we take. You never know when it could come in handy. There aren’t any noticeable differences in the architecture, so I can only memorize the directions we take. After fifteen minutes of twisting and turning, we reach an open room. There are more agents in tactical gear at each corner. In the center is a circular desk with over twenty computer terminals. Hale walks to one and begins typing. A few minutes later, she walks back to us with a paper in her hands.

“Here’s a list of everyone found at that party. Names in green are alive, names in red-”

The implication is obvious. I read through the list until I find my friends’ names. Maria Estella, Aubrey Iskan, and Jean-Luc Dupont are all green. Davis Allen and Marcus Briggs are in red. Good, it would have been a problem if those two had been rescued. With Liquid Lazarus, they could have been saved. There are only four other names highlighted in green. One hundred and five teenagers went to that party, and only eight survived. Davis Allen, you have posthumously entered the Hall of Fame for mass murderers. I make my face light up as I trace my finger over the green names, silently counting down from ten when I get to Marcus’ red name.

This performance will need to be even greater. Breathe in, exhale. Repeat until tears form. Lightly whimper as you drop to your knees. Choke back the sobs to feign strength. Clutch the paper tightly and pound the ground with your free hand. Slowly wail out. “NOOOOO.”

Let the word fade out—end scene. I’m on my knees on the floor, hyperventilating. Slowly, I force myself to stand up and put on a brave face. Appearing composed isn’t as effective for manipulating people. They want to feel like they glimpsed past your facade and saw the truth.

“Losing a friend is a pain that no one should experience. The coming weeks will hurt. Don’t be afraid to lean on friends and family,” Sigrid said.

“Time for you to go home. We’ll lead you to the transport room.” Agent Hale said.

Agent Sigrid did not follow behind this time. Instead, she strolls beside me in an attempt to reassure me. Her looks don’t match her personality. They lead me through another set of hallways that look identical to the ones from earlier. We randomly stop, and the right side of the hallway slides open to reveal a raised platform in an otherwise empty room. As we enter, I spot a terminal on the side of the wall we came through.

“Step onto the platform. Fair warning, you will most likely get sick,” Hale said.

“Wait, what?”