Chapter 38: Uma Thurman
The Darkmobile rips through the night-shrouded streets of Boston. The vehicle's engine thrums with barely contained power, the sound a stark counterpoint to the eerie silence that permeates within the interior.
I cradle Luke's trembling form in my arms, his skin clammy and feverish against mine. His eyes are wide and unfocused, darting frantically beneath half-closed lids. It seems being stuck with all those needles caused him to overdose.
Violent spasms wrack his body, each convulsion sending a jolt of terror through my heart. The acrid stench of vomit and worse clings to him, a visceral reminder of the horrors we witnessed in that godforsaken alley.
"Bryce, what's the plan?" I ask for what feels like the hundredth time, my voice cracking with fear and desperation. "He's getting worse. We need to do something!"
Dark Star doesn't respond. Her hands grip the steering wheel so tightly I can hear the leather creaking. Her jaw is clenched, muscles twitching beneath the skin. But it's her eyes that truly terrify me. I've never seen such raw fear in them before. The usual calculated determination that defines her is gone, replaced by a wild, almost primal panic.
My mind races back to the nightmarish scene we left behind. The alley, dank and foul, littered with unconscious bodies. The sickening sounds of flesh striking flesh as we descended upon Luke's attackers with a fury I didn't know we possessed. I remember the crunch of bone beneath my fists, the warm spray of blood on my face as Dark Star systematically dismantled the group of depraved addicts.
In that moment, we weren't heroes. We were vengeance incarnate.
But now, speeding through the city with a dying man in my arms, that righteous anger has given way to paralyzing fear. Luke's breaths come in ragged gasps, each one sounding weaker than the last. A thin line of drool mixed with blood trickles from the corner of his mouth.
"Bryce!" I scream, desperation clawing at my throat. "We need a healer! He's dying!"
"Hold on!" Dark Star shouts, her voice tight with tension.
Dark Star's eyes flash with sudden determination. She wrenches the steering wheel hard to the right, sending the Darkmobile careening onto a hidden off-ramp. The g-force pushes me back into my seat as we hurtle down a steep, winding path barely wider than our vehicle.
The headlights illuminate a sheer rock face directly ahead. My heart leaps into my throat, certain we're about to crash. But at the last second, a section of the stone wall shimmers and vanishes, revealing a tunnel entrance.
We plunge into darkness, the Darkmobile's engine echoing off the close walls as we pass through the hidden passage. Dim lights flicker to life along the tunnel floor, guiding our way deeper beneath the city. The air grows thick and damp, carrying the musty scent of earth and stone.
After what feels like an eternity, the tunnel opens into a vast cavern. Stalactites hang from the distant ceiling like massive stone fangs. Banks of advanced computer equipment line the walls, their screens casting an eerie glow across the polished stone floor.
Dark Star brings the Darkmobile to a screeching halt in the center of the cavern, tires squealing on the smooth rock. Before I can even unbuckle my seatbelt, she's out of the car and wrenching open my door.
"Give him to me!" she commands, her voice raw with desperation.
I carefully pass Luke's convulsing form to Dark Star. His skin has taken on a sickly gray color, his breathing now little more than shallow, irregular gasps.
Dark Star cradles him in her arms, her usual stoic demeanor crumbling as she looks down at his ravaged body. "Go get Serum H," she orders, her voice cracking. "Now!"
I nod, springing into action. My feet barely touch the ground as I race across the cavern to a bank of high-tech medical equipment. My eyes frantically scan the array of vials and containers until I spot what we need a small, iridescent vial nestled in a softly humming centrifuge.
With trembling hands, I carefully extract the vial of Serum H. The liquid inside seems to shimmer and dance, defying the laws of physics. This compound is our last hope, a Hail Mary play that should save Luke's life.
Dark Star has cleared off a table with a violent sweep of her arm, sending delicate equipment clattering to the cavern floor. She lays Luke's limp form on the cold metal surface. With a swift, desperate motion, she rips Luke's shirt open. His bare chest was once again exposed, rising and falling with shallow, erratic breaths.
A part of me blushes seeing a boy's open chest, my nineteen year old hormones choosing the most inappropriate moment to make themselves known. But I quickly push those thoughts aside, now is not the time to ogle. Luke's life hangs in the balance.
I carefully hand the vial of Serum H. Her usually steady hands tremble slightly as she transfers the miraculous substance into a syringe, the needle glinting ominously in the dim cavern light.
With grim determination, Dark Star grabs the nearest thing she can find, a loose bundle of wires trailing from a nearby computer bank. She rips them out and wraps it tightly around Luke's upper arm, the crude tourniquet causing his veins to bulge beneath his pale skin.
Time seems to slow as Dark Star lines up the needle with Luke's most prominent vein. The cavern falls deathly silent, the only sound the ragged whisper of Luke's fading breaths. With practiced precision, she plunges the needle down and depresses the plunger.
The iridescent liquid flows into Luke's bloodstream, seeming to glow beneath his skin for a brief moment before disappearing. We wait, every second feeling like an eternity, for some sign that the serum is working.
But Luke is now motionless on the table.
I choke out a sob, my voice barely above a whisper. "Bryce... did we just kill him?"
The words hang in the air, heavy with despair. Dark Star's shoulders slump, her usual commanding presence crumbling before my eyes.
But suddenly, Luke shoots up from the table, his back arching as he gasps desperately for air. His eyes fly open, wide and unfocused, darting frantically around the dimly lit cavern. His chest heaves with each ragged breath as if he's trying to expel the very memory of death from his lungs.
Dark Star finally lets out a breath, the tension visibly draining from her body. But the relief is short-lived. Her eyes remain wide with terror, locked onto Luke's thrashing form.
Luke's gaze darts around wildly, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. He seems completely lost, untethered from reality.
Without warning, Luke begins to scream.
"NO, NO, NO, NO, NO!"
His voice, hoarse and raw, echoes off the cavern walls, creating a cacophony of anguish that chills me to my core.
"I've betrayed Skye!" he wails, the words tearing from his throat. "Oh god, I've betrayed her!"
He repeats the phrase over and over, each iteration more frantic than the last. His hands claw at his face, leaving angry red scratches across his cheeks. Tears stream down his face, mingling with the blood from his self-inflicted wounds.
"I'm sorry!" Luke screams, his voice cracking with the force of his cries. "I'm so sorry! Please, forgive me!"
I try to approach him, my hands outstretched in what I hope is a calming gesture. "Luke," I say softly, trying to keep my voice steady despite the terror gripping my heart. "It's okay. You're safe now."
But as I reach for him, Luke's eyes lock onto me with a look of pure, animalistic fear. He lashes out, his nails raking across my armor as I try to restrain him. I recoil, more from shock than pain, as Luke continues to thrash wildly on the table.
"Don't touch me!" he screams, his voice raw and broken. "I'm dirty!"
Dark Star moves with lightning speed, pinning Luke's arms to his sides. "Luke!" she shouts, her voice echoing through the cavern. "Luke, listen to me! This wasn't your fault!"
Luke's eyes somehow grow wider with terror as Dark Star restrains him. His whole body goes rigid, muscles tensing beneath her grip. For a moment, he's utterly still, like a rabbit frozen in the gaze of a predator. Then, with a suddenness that startles even Dark Star, he erupts back into frenzied motion.
"GET THE FUCK OFF OF ME!" Luke screams. His voice is raw and primal. He shakes wildly, his limbs flailing with desperate strength. "STOP TOUCHING ME!"
The cavern echoes with his cries, the sound bouncing off the stone walls and reverberating through the air.
"GET OFF!"
Dark Star struggles to maintain her hold without hurting him. But with each passing second, Luke's movements grow more violent, more uncontrolled. His elbow catches Dark Star in the jaw, the impact audible even over his continued screams.
"STOP FUCKING TOUCHING ME!"
His eyes dart wildly around the cavern, unseeing, lost in some private hell that we can't begin to comprehend.
Dark Star's eyes meet mine over Luke's thrashing form.
With a weary sigh that seems to carry the weight of the world, Dark Star gives me a pointed look. "Inject him," she says, her voice barely audible over Luke's continued screams.
I nod as I reach for my utility belt. From a small, inconspicuous pouch, I withdraw a device that looks almost like a pen. But as I press a hidden button, a spring-loaded needle emerges from one end with a soft click.
Approaching Luke's thrashing form, I search for an opening. His movements are wild and unpredictable, making it difficult to get close without risking injury to him. But finally, I see my chance. As Luke's arm swings wide, I dart in and press the needle against his skin.
There's a barely audible hiss as the sedative is injected. For a moment, nothing seems to change. Luke continues to shake violently. But then, gradually, his movements begin to slow. His cries become softer, more slurred. His eyelids flutter, fighting against the encroaching darkness.
I frown as Luke finally falls into a peaceful sleep, his body going limp on the cold metal table. Luke's face, moments ago contorted in anguish, now looks eerily serene. His chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm, a stark contrast to the violent convulsions of just minutes before.
"Bryce, what's the plan?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
"I don't know," she says, her voice cracking slightly.
With trembling hands, she reaches up and removes her mask. The simple act seems to strip away the last vestiges of the fearless hero, leaving only Bryce Payne, a woman grappling with a situation far beyond her control. She runs a hand through her black hair, disheveled and damp with sweat.
"Clean him up," Bryce says after a moment, her gaze fixed on Luke's unconscious form. "Take him into the safe room down here."
I nod, trying to project a calmness I don't feel. "Okay," I reply, already moving to gather the necessary supplies.
"I'll call Veronica and tell her we couldn't find Luke and that we're still looking for him." Bryce's next words freeze me in my tracks. "Super Star cannot find out he was raped like this," she says, her voice low and urgent. "I don't know what she would do. This could be the end of everything. Even if we're only caught up in the crossfire."
As Bryce's words sink in, a wave of anxiety washes over me, threatening to pull me under. My heart races, pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat.
*****
[Jackie Jones's POV]
I sit straight in the high-backed chair outside Lady Ruin's throne room, my eyes fixed on the ornate double doors before me.
My fingers absently smooth the fabric of my crisp uniform, though not a wrinkle mars its perfect lines. Everything in Utopia must be flawless, orderly, especially those of us who serve Lady Ruin directly.
When the massive doors suddenly swing open with a resonant boom, I nearly jump out of my skin.
Lady Ruin strides out, her emerald cape billowing behind her like a storm cloud. The silver mask that obscures her features gleams in the soft light of the hallway.
I spring to my feet, snapping to attention as she approaches. "My Lady," I begin, but the words die in my throat as her masked gaze fixes upon me.
"Tyrell has still not reported in?" Her voice, slightly distorted by the mask, carries an edge I've never heard before.
I swallow hard, fighting to keep my voice steady. "No, Lady Ruin. There's been no word."
She stands motionless for a long moment, the blank eyes of her mask boring into me. I resist the urge to squirm under that inscrutable gaze, years of training keeping me perfectly still.
"He must be dead," she says at last, her tone flat and final.
The statement hangs in the air between us, heavy with implication. Tyrell, with his crimson jacket and strange helmet, has been a constant presence in Utopia since its inception. The thought of him being gone seems almost impossible to comprehend.
"He... he really might have just escaped," I venture, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. "Maybe he thought this was his chance to…"
Lady Ruin raises a hand, cutting me off mid-sentence. The simple gesture carries such authority that my words die in my throat instantly.
"No," she says, her voice firm and unwavering. "I've spoken with Tyrell at length about his strange life. In that time, I've learned two things about what drives him. One, his intense loyalty to anyone he sees as a close friend. And two, his inability to stop himself from following things he thinks are interesting."
She turns slightly, her emerald cape swirling around her ankles. The silver mask catches the light, its impassive features somehow conveying a sense of deep contemplation.
"Tyrell wouldn't abandon his post, not when it involved protecting someone he liked," she continues. "His sense of loyalty is too strong. And if something had caught his interest enough to lure him away, he would have found a way to inform me. No, his silence can only mean one thing."
I nod slowly, processing her words. A thought strikes me, and before I can stop myself, I voice it aloud.
"Did you have him protect Luke because you thought they'd be friends?"
Lady Ruin goes utterly still, her masked face turning back to me with an intensity that makes me want to shrink into the floor.
When she finally speaks, her voice is softer, tinged with an emotion I can't quite identify. "Perhaps."
"Regardless," she says, her voice taking on a tone of grim determination, "I'm traveling to the mainland tonight."
The words hang in the air, heavy with implication. As far as I can remember, Lady Ruin has not left Utopia since its mysterious appearance. Her departure now can only mean something truly momentous is occurring.
"Should I prepare the submarine, my Lady?" I ask, already mentally running through the complex checklist required to ready our most secure method of egress from the island.
But Lady Ruin shakes her head. No need," she says simply.
Before I can process her words, the air around Lady Ruin begins to shimmer and distort. It's as if reality itself is bending around her, warping and twisting in ways that make my eyes water. Sparks of emerald energy crackle and dance across her form, growing in intensity until they're almost blinding.
And then Lady Ruin vanishes. One moment, she's there, a commanding presence that fills the hallway, and the next... nothing. Just empty air where she once stood.
I blink rapidly, my mind struggling to comprehend what I've just witnessed.
"I... I didn't know she could do that," I murmur to the empty hallway.