Paragon

By B. Thomas Peck

The Golden Age of Heroes is over, and almost forgotten are the days of capes and catchy monikers. For those who display abilities, Supers, to live means staying hidden. A weapon called the Nullifier, capable of rendering Supers helpless is mass-produced by Draco Industries.
Once this weapon was only used to stop Supers who broke the law, but it quickly became the means by which they were controlled and pushed into submission. Whispers of Supers being abducted, tortured, and killed spread through the streets. Ezekiel Blackwell, a young Super and cage fighter, discovers there is more truth to these whispers, and more horror, than any dared to pursue.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Oct 7, 2015
• ISBN: 9781329605787

Book preview

Paragon

Paragon

B. Thomas Peck

For Ashley,

You made all of this possible.

I love you, always.

© 2015 B. Thomas Peck. All rights reserved.

Cover design by John A. Peck

ISBN: 978-1-329-60578-7

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Epilogue

Prologue

A skin disease? Martin repeated in bewildered disbelief at the doctor's words. Doctor Stern was one of Glacier City's best doctor's when it came to genetics, DNA and the study of Supers: people with abilities. Martin had been called earlier that day to be notified that his son's results were in and that the doctor wanted to see them. Martin had rushed his son to the doctor's office and patiently waited for their turn only to hear those three words and be incredibly dissatisfied. The doctor nodded his head quickly, small beads of sweat dripped from his forehead. He seemed nervous, though Martin couldn't fathom why. It was HIS son who was developing cold-blue skin in random splotches around his body.

Yes, Mr. Blackwell. We've run all the tests and your son shows absolutely no sign of the gene that would indicate whether he may or may not develop abilities. Dr. Stern wiped the sweat from his forehead and crossed his arms, his eyes darting this way and that.

My son, my turning-blue son, is not a Super? Martin asked; the doctor nodded again. You're shitting me.

Dad! Zeke said, startled, you know mom doesn't like that kinda language...

You're right, Zeke, I'm sorry. Martin grabbed the doctor and pulled him close and started to whisper. Last week his eyes were blue. Now they're pale yellow! Yesterday I walked into his room and his floor was covered in snow! His skin has been turning blue for a month now in spots and you tell me it’s a skin disease!? Stern's eyes were filled with startle and surprise as he tried to bat Martin away with his left hand.

I don't know what you want from me Mr. Blackwell! We ran everything that would tell us if he was a Super and nothing came up! As far as I can tell he's as normal as you and me! Martin released him and scoffed, then motioned for his son to leave the room and he followed behind the seven year old boy with a hand on his shoulder to guide him. As they left they noticed the building was populated by nurses and other doctors who looked stressed, overworked and likely underpaid. Except for one pair of doctors: an early thirties white man with moussed up hair and a like-wise aged black man who were giving each other piggy back rides. They seemed to be doing just fine.

Several years later Zeke was thirteen and regularly attending school. The year was 2004, Zeke's mother Tabitha had died giving birth to Mary, their second child and now Martin was a single father of two.

Tensions were rising in the media. Officials were talking about something called Super Registration; and act that would require anyone with supernatural abilities or strengths to be registered with the federal government so they could be tracked and kept an eye on. Martin was not in favor of this; it sounded like more gun control nonsense only now aimed at Supers, just because they could do things. Granted those things tended to be flinging fire from their fingertips, lifting cars, or invading peoples' minds, but that didn't mean they were to be tracked like cattle. The fact that terrorists had used a telepath and a pyro-kinetic to fly two planes into the world trade center and cause massive explosions that took the twin towers down to rubble, only made things worse. It gave those in favor of registration ammunition for their cause.

In February of 2004 a weapons manufacturer named Draco Industries came out with a new weapon to arm police forces around the United States and to the military to help combat unfriendly Supers. The weapon was called the nullifier and supposedly worked by blasting sonic energy at the target and scrambled their brainwaves. It took away their ability to use or control their powers. It made Supers ripe for arresting and placing into captivity. All of it stunk to Martin and he knew that everything going on was building up for an eruption of hatred and discrimination.

Then everything went to hell in a hand basket the day Martin heard his son screaming outside their house. Martin ran outside just in time to see a boy, twice Zeke's size, standing over his son raising his fist to strike Zeke. The boy rained blows on his son and laughed as he did so and Martin shouted and ran to his son's rescue, but he was not fast enough. Another blow came down and Zeke raised his hand and caught the fist of his assailant, who suddenly let out a blood curdling cry of pain. The bully stepped back and gripped the hand Zeke had caught and fell to his knees as his entire arm turned black and started to hiss and crack open. Red lines ripped through the now black arm from the intensity of the skin cracks. Cold steam rose up from the cracks in his arm and Martin's eyes widened in horror. He had lived in Alaska his whole life; frostbite was a relatively common thing. No not common cold common, but it occurred often enough that he knew frostbite when he saw it. This boy's entire left arm was frostbitten so badly his skin was already splitting and bleeding.

Martin looked down at his son and almost cried when he saw that his son's pale yellow eyes had become one solid color and were radiating a soft yellow glow. The strange yellow light emanated from Zeke's eye sockets and then died down as his eyes returned to their original state. He had whites, irises, and pupils again but the irises were still that strange golden hue that sent chills through Martin's body. He didn’t need to think, he needed to act, so Martin grabbed his son and rushed him into the car. A soft jingling sound rattled through the car while Martin fumbled for the right key.

He felt horrible for leaving the maimed child behind and not trying to help him, but at the same time he had far more pressing concerns racing through his head. The whole neighborhood would have heard the child screaming and left their houses to investigate. He was actually surprised no one had poked their heads out just yet as he sped away. Police and ambulances, and likely Nullifiers, would soon be on their way. On top of that, the kid tried to beat up his son so he had less remorse for him due to that fact.

All the horrible things that might happen zipped through Martin's mind as he drove through the city, making every attempt to maintain the speed limit, flow with traffic and call absolutely no attention to himself. The law was starting to get much more strict and iron-fisted when it came to dealing with Supers and Martin was scared for his son. He decided to take Zeke to his sister's house. Brida was a Super and she had given birth to two Supers; she even managed to get them through elementary school without anyone knowing they were Supers. As far as anyone knew they were Enns just like Martin.

Enn was slang for someone who lacked abilities or mutations; they were normal, which is originally what the Super community had referred to them as: Normals. Soon that nickname had been replaced by simply saying the Ns. Somehow, through trends and fads, the phonic pronunciation had turned into the label itself and normal people were called Enns. His hopes were that she would be willing to hide his son among her seemingly Enn family until things quieted down; if they quieted down. When he reached her home, placed in an oddly quiet cul-de-sac, he rushed Zeke inside and explained what he had seen to Brida.

Brida was the odd sheep of their family. She was married at 19 and always died her hair pink and white. Despite the wishes of their parents she'd also picked up smoking, but always did it outside in order to prevent her children from getting second-hand smoke. As he told her the events that brought him over, he felt her prodding his mind and knew that she was seeing his memories.

Shit. She swore and crossed her arms, looking away from her brother now and down to Zeke, who had been disturbingly quiet the entire ride. It’s a good thing you already had me babysitting Mary. Martin's eyes widened and for a moment he was ashamed. He had completely forgotten that Mary had been at Brida's and realized that if she hadn't been at her aunt's house he likely would have forgotten about her and left her at home. After his brief moment of panic he thanked the heavens that Brida had, in fact, been babysitting Mary that day and was already here with his sister.

Yeah, no shit. Zeke, go make sure your sister is alright okay? Martin said, kneeling down next to his son and cupping his face. Zeke nodded and then ran off to go check on his sister, still silent as the grave. They'll be coming here you know... He said, not wanting to look his sister in the eye at the moment. His words and tone were filled with the fear of a parent.

Yep. Don't worry; I'll make sure they don't find him. But you probably shouldn't be here when they come, y'know. Her tone was cold, but she'd always been like that. Martin knew she spoke out of love and was not trying to be harsh. He also knew that she was entirely accurate in her assessment and that he needed to leave before officials showed up at his only living relative's place trying to find out if he had fled here.

I'll be fine; I have some places I can go lie low for a bit. Martin said and then embraced his sister. They stood there a moment, hugging one another and praying that everything would be alright. Where’s Daniel? Martin asked.

I kicked him out last week, I thought I told you? Brida tilted her head to the left and stared at her brother in bewilderment.

You said he went on a business trip! Martin exclaimed.

Oh yeah, heh. No I kicked him out, she corrected with a vigorous nod and smile.

Do I want to know? Martin inquired and Brida simply shook her head, he decided not to press. Anyways, tell Zeke I’ll be back soon. Maybe a day or two, I need to pick up some things if we’re going to fall off the grid a while. Martin wrapped his arms around his sister and squeezed her tight and then jumped back into his vehicle.

Martin started his car and left the neighborhood as quickly as he could and then slowed his pace once he was far enough away. It was then he noticed that he was being tailed, rather expertly at that. Three squad cars were now following him from a relatively safe distance. He swore and spat when he saw a chopper circling over him and the lights of the squad cars flash in his rear view mirror. His foot pressed down onto the accelerator and Martin sped through traffic like a maniac. He took every exit that would lead him out and away from the city and hoped he might lose them on the cliffs of Glacier Pass. Two more vehicles joined in the chase and Martin had to maneuver quickly several times to avoid being cut off.

Once they were out of the city, Martin sped up even more, adamant on getting away from his pursuers. He prayed they couldn't see inside his vehicle and would think Zeke was with him for as long as they were chasing him. He didn't know how long he could keep them on his tail or for how long he'd be able to stay out of their clutches. What he knew was that the world he lived in was very unkind to Supers and that things were currently in motion to make life very difficult for Supers. He envisioned Nazi Germany type internment camps, special cells designed to keep Zeke behind bars so he couldn't see Mary grow up.

At the worst possible moment, Martin decided to attempt to look back at his pursuers. They were gaining on him but luckily the road he was on had only two lanes, going up the side of the cliff. On the left side of the road, there was a rail protect drivers from taking a 200 foot plunge down into the rocky ocean shore below them. Martin turned his attention back to the road and shouted when his Sudan burst through the rail and started tumbling down the rocky cliff-side. Martin's last thoughts were of his son, Zeke, and prayer that his family would be safe.

Intermission

Yet another vicious and unprovoked attack by a member of the Super community, we go now to John Hamden on the scene. The blonde News Anchor says just before the screen cuts to a middle aged man with a crow’s peak on his forehead holding a microphone and standing next to an ambulance.

Diane, I’m standing here in the suburbs of Glacier City at the scene where a young boy’s arm is covered in frostbite. The child said that he was walking home when a teenager with blue skin ran after him and chased him down the block. When the blue-skinned teenager got a hold of him he said his arm was filled with pain and he fell over crying. He then noticed his skin was turning black and cracking and it was agonizing. We were able to get confirmation from the school that the blue skinned culprit’s name is Ezekiel Blackwell, son of Martin Blackwell who drove off a cliff earlier today in order to escape pursuit. John says as he brushes his hair back.

Behind him EMTs are scurrying about getting the child into the ambulance. John sees his chance and goes for it. He shoves the microphone in the boy’s face, son, do you have any idea what could’ve provoked this attack?

No, the boy whines through tears, I never did nothin’ to him. The boy is then lifted into the ambulance which takes off immediately with sirens blaring.

I tell you Diane, I’m shocked more and more at the audacity of these people. Back to you.

The video cuts back to Diane who shakes her head in dismay and then leads the captivated audience into the next story about sports.

Chapter 1

An intense jolt of pain shot through Zeke's body in two quick intervals. The first came from the vicious fist the size of a Christmas ham slamming into his chest. The other followed quickly when his head and back collided with the steel reinforced cage. He ducked his head to the left, ignoring the pain, when another blow came straight for his temple. His knee shot up landing in his opponent’s solar plexus and was rewarded with the sound of his assailant grunting breathlessly.

The audience surrounding them howled and cheered as the large lumberjack of a man bent over gripping his stomach. The large brute seemed genuinely surprised that someone of Zeke's stature could hit so hard, especially considering the size difference. Jack The Bloodletter Gallows was a beastly hulk of a man and as hairy as could be. His shirt was off and covered in protruding bone spines that seemed highly uncomfortable to live with. Zeke had to time and aim every shot he took very carefully to avoid impaling his own hand on one of those spines, but there was little time to think when it came to this fight. Jack was almost 6'7" and built like a mac truck but he was deceptively fast and agile, one of the perks of being a Super, Zeke guessed.

Zeke swerved to his left and kicked straight up, launching the shin of his right leg into Jack's face sending the giant stumbling back panting in anger. Jack quickly recovered and roared like an animal sending the small crowd around them into a whooping cry of encouragement. The fight took place in an underground, a very deep underground, bar that had become the regular spot for Supers to congregate and avoid the Normal world. It also hosted Super vs. Super fights, some allowing the use of abilities and some requiring the use of only body and mind. Zeke fought in both types of fights, it was how he'd made a living for the past eight years since he got his GED from his Aunt Brida's home school. Going out wasn't really an option for him since his entire body was now a chilly blue, emphasized with yellow eyes and crimson red hair.

Another rain of blows came for his body and skull that he quickly bobbed away from. His left hand misted with intense cold and soon became an icy cestus which he used to block a savage haymaker from Jack. Zeke ducked under another similar blow and launched himself up leading with his icy left fist connecting perfectly with Jack's jaw. A cracking sound ripped through the air, partially from Jack's jaw breaking and partially from the shards of ice that flew from the impact. Jack stumbled backwards again but Zeke didn't let up. He rained blows on his opponent now leaving him no time to react. A few swipes came at him which he quickly ducked or parried. He had to end this soon. Sure he was making a good cat-and-mouse style show of things, and the crowd loved it, but Zeke was getting tired. The fight had been going on for easily thirty minutes now and Jack showed virtually no fatigue. Zeke searched for an opening; a way to grab hold of Jack long enough to give the fight a shocking ending.

Jack recovered from his disorientation and went berserk, almost drooling at the mouth, his eyes filled with rage. He swiped, thrust, kicked and lunged like an animal, trying to grab and maim Zeke, furious at the assault he'd suffered. Zeke had been warned about this. Bloodletter had a reputation for being more primal than sound of mind. This tended to scare a lot of the fighters he had previously faced to the point of being frozen in fear or surprise, or both. Both were highly likely.

Zeke's mind acted quickly and let his powers do half his work for him. Patches of ice formed on the floor allowing him to slide away harmlessly and at the same time wrecking Jack's footwork and almost causing him to fall several times. Then the giant's foot launched forward with a vicious lunge of his body and planted itself in Zeke's chest. Again, Zeke flew back into the cage; the impact knocked the wind right out of him. Zeke coughed and there was a slight splatter of blood on the floor. He wiped his lip and saw more blood on his hand and looked up just in time to see two very large spines erect from Jack's wrist. They stretched forward almost a foot past his fingertips. Zeke's eyes widened in sudden realization that the Bloodletter was out for blood and was likely going to try to kill him.

It wasn't horribly uncommon for Supers to die in these fights, though it was something they tried to avoid whenever possible. This did not seem to be one of those times. Zeke saw only one way out and dashed forward on another patch of ice. Every inch he got closer to Jack he was summoning energy from his surroundings: the static in the air, the electricity in the lights above him which now flickered violently. His eyes lit up with pale yellow light and crackled with electricity. The red hair on his head buzzed with static.

Jack swiped left and right and stabbed quickly with his spines and made every effort to maim Zeke, but none of his blows landed or even came close. Both of Jack's massive hands rose above his head once Zeke was just below him and then came down for a brutal finishing blow. But they were stopped. Zeke had only a literal split second to perfectly time catching the spines and then discharging all of his power into them.

Zeke's timing was absolutely flawless. In the millisecond Zeke's hands firmly gripped the two rippled spines protruding from Jack's wrists torrents of amps and volts coursed through his body and into the hairy giant. Spidery-legs of lightning cackled and crawled around the two and Jack howled in agony. Burns covered his body and his spines started to steam. His entire form locked up and twitched. Every muscle in Jack's body continued to spasm with every jolt that assailed his nervous system.

When the light show ended, Jack fell back and collapsed onto his back as Zeke tried to keep the pleased with myself and grateful that ended things look from creeping across his face. The referee, if you could call him that considering he barely did anything during the fight, jumped to his feet and ran over to Jack's side. The crowd stood in silence while the ref, a middle aged blonde man with a crow’s peak and a fat face with breath that suggested he liked anchovies on everything, checked Jack's neck for a pulse. The ref smiled and patted Jack on the chest which was once again rising and falling with air.

Your victor! The ref bellowed, skipping over to Zeke and raising his hand triumphantly. The Storm Striker! The crowd whooped and cheered in excitement. Zeke's cage name was a little cheesy, but he liked it and it was better than the other name people sometimes used behind his back, The Wraith. He wasn’t a huge fan of that one; a wraith was a ghost that caused chaos and bloodshed and no matter the circumstance he always took every precaution not to kill.

Zeke's adrenaline died down and all the pain from the fight came rushing into him at once almost forcing him to vomit. He fought the gagging and smiled, high fiving, bro-fisting and clasping hands with random patrons of the bar. People cheered and jeered their personal opinions on the fight but Zeke paid neither any mind and nudged his way through the crowd to the one man he really wanted to see right now. The Empath.

The Empath hung around the bar on fight nights because he was paid to heal the fighters, if they lived. His ability allowed him to actually mend physical injuries and pains, which came in handy on more than one occasions. He was easy to find, mostly due to the fact he was always in the exact same spot and had the most legendary beard of any man Zeke had ever witnessed. It was long, down past his chest and chestnut brown but not wiry. The Empath braided the two strands of hair that came from his mustache with little cross beads. He always said his powers came from prayer but it was his personal belief and, being somewhat of a believer himself, Zeke never said anything about it. He actually liked that the Empath would channel his powers by praying over the people he intended to heal.

Zeke finally spotted the healer and sat next to him, one hand firmly wrapped around his own side attempting to alleviate the pain with very little success.

I'm assuming it’s your stomach that's bothering you. The Empath said with a curt smile barely visible underneath all the hair covering virtually every inch of his face. You took a few hard ones in there.

Oh yeah. I thought I’d let him tenderize me before I went home. Zeke responded with his usual sarcasm, but the Empath paid his disdain no heed and placed his hands over Zeke's chest. He closed his eyes and let out a steady hum befitting a choral bass as white light radiated blindingly from the Empath's hands. This part always felt really weird to Zeke. It was like getting blood drawn. You can feel the tube sucking out the blood from your veins, only with this it was his internal organs, nerves and skin repairing, mending and going back to their original positions as opposed to wherever the hell they had ended up in the fight.

This went on for several minutes and, as always, Zeke remained quiet and patient. Even closed his own eyes and tried to relax, tried to ignore the squirmy feeling of his body repairing itself and trying to go back to the way it used to feel when it was still healthy and hadn't just had a mammoth pound on him for forty minutes. When it was over the light faded and even the noise of the club got louder, almost as if he'd forgotten he was surrounded by drunk Supers and party goers looking for the next round of stimulus and entertainment to give their lives some form of meaning.

Zeke always hated places like this; loud, obnoxious, annoying and belligerent, but the money he made being here and fighting was good and he's only ever lost twice and those were his first two fights. Since then he'd had a perfect streak for the past five years with a new fight every week. He'd learned to use his powers to assist him and discovered unique ways to give himself an advantage, as well as discovering new abilities along the way. He discovered not only could he make his surroundings bitterly cold, but he could actually form ice wherever he focused his will. He trained and found he was able to coat his body in ice to protect himself, or create ice patches that he could slide around on if he needed to maneuver quickly.

When he was twenty years old he discovered his most impressive trait however, and that was the gift of seeing electrical energy if he focused enough. He could trace circuitry and tell exactly how much energy was stored or flowing. He saw the lines of electrical current glow orange whenever he activated his new-found sense. Alongside this sixth sense he also grasped the gift of harnessing static electricity and molding it to his will. Zeke made it a point to become a marksman with his electrical outbursts, but these tended to wear him out a great deal so he made it a point to use this part of his gift for emergencies, like in his fight with Bloodletter.

When he had turned 20 his abilities grew even further; Zeke's will could impact the weather around him, though only when it came to stormy weather. He could bend the weather to his thoughts and create small storms of rain, hail or snow with a little bit of lightning here and there, but this too wore him out. It took a great deal of concentration, though sometimes he seemed to be much more proficient at it when he was angry. Since discovering this Zeke has made the nightly forecast very foggy, making it easier for him to move around the city unseen, though it wasn't always easy to control. This ability came rather as a surprise to him when he had lost a friend of his to the Nullifiers and the weather around him, specifically the twenty feet around him, became drastically violent with snow and thunder. His moods sometimes made the sky a little darker than usual, even for Alaska.

Eventually there started to be whispers about Zeke being a Paragon, which he tried his best to dismantle quickly. Paragons were Supers that stood out, even among other super powered beings. A regular Super might be able to control fire but they can't summon it, or maybe they can but the cold will bother them. A regular Super might have incredible strength but lack the bone density to actually be able to pick up a car without their skeletal structure collapsing; so yes they might be strong but their body still has normal limitations.

Paragons were different, they surpassed even the abnormal. A Paragon pyro-kinetic would be completely unmoved by extreme heat or cold; their bodies constantly hot to the touch and capable of summoning and controlling any kind of flame even to the point of being able to create heat lightning. There was one Paragon who named herself Lady Lightspeed back before the time of nullifiers. Lady Lightspeed had been able to zip from one side of the city to the other in the blink of an eye but her body was unaffected by the intense friction such speed would cause. Not only that but her metabolism was wickedly fast and could heal any wound ten times faster than any Enn or even most Supers.

Nowadays however, being a Paragon meant you were likely to call attention to yourself. Such a thing could bring Nullifiers where they're not wanted and get a lot of Supers taken away. Since 2008 all Supers had to be registered with the federal government and have GPS microchips implanted so that they could be tracked. Of course most Supers went underground, adamantly avoiding such a thing as long as they could. Any Super who refused, dealt with Nullifiers who scrambled their brains and took them away. There had even been rumors that they were actively hunting Supers and abducting them. Zeke found these things to be conspiracy theories at best and paid them no heed. He wasn't interested in politics, government, the system or anything like it. He stayed out of sight during the day and did what he wanted at night.

I'm still not happy with your... choice of aesthetic. The Empath said frowning at Zeke when he finally opened his eyes. Zeke cocked one, crimson eyebrow at him and gave a tilt of his head to show confusion. The Empath gestured his left hand towards Zeke's bare chest and then to the mohawk. The tribal tattoos, the mohawk. Why?

Zeke's entire upper torso was one large canvas for a bloody-red tribal design that traveled from his pelvis, up to his shoulders, down his back, over his triceps and down to his forearms. He chose red because it complimented his chilly blue skin tone in some bizarre fashion, and it was the same shade as his hair. The mohawk had just been something he did for the first fight he had won. A symbol that he was a warrior, a fighter and a little bit of a rebel. Since then the look had stuck and he wore it like a badge because otherwise what was the point? Zeke laughed a little and shook his head.

It’s very theatrical. There's not much of that anymore, since the days of capes and cowls died out... Zeke said, bowing his head and remembering the books he'd read about Supers dressing as comic-bookish heroes and saving the day. Some fought in wars and fought for things like freedom and justice; some stayed in their city and battled cheesy-named supervillains intent on overthrowing the world or some other weird thing. As corny as it all sounded, it was History to Zeke and he'd grown up wishing he'd been born a few decades earlier so he could've been like one of those Supers. Now the History books in schools taught that these Supers did it for personal glory, for camera spotlights and talk shows. They only dressed