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Black Book Series: PowerScape, Part One
By monkeyboy777
prologue:
It’s nighttime in Los Angeles. Sirens head towards a column of smoke near the downtown district. A figure in a black suit runs swiftly with superhuman strength and speed across rooftops and jumps from building to building. The man in the suit is headed in the direction away from the smoke and sirens. He finally lands and pauses in a back ally a good distance from the disturbance. The young man pulls his hood off his head to reveal an attractive face with worn gray eyes, spiked black hair and a solemn stare. He stands there with a long blade strapped to his back and a rear double holster upon his belt. After looking around the boy walks up to the street light and glances up at it, his gloved fists ablaze in a white/blue energy fire. The light suddenly shorts out, sparks flying. Then the young man looks down and mumbles to himself, low and incoherent.
What a night... Feels like yesterday I got here. He thinks gravely.
It was a warm night in Phoenix. The same young man stands alone in an almost empty parking garage. His eyes look younger, less worn. He leans against one of the few remaining cars, an old blue Chevy truck, and stares blankly at the ceiling with gray eyes. A lit cigarette smolders between his fingers as he waits, mumbling incoherently under his breath, running his hand through shorter black hair. He wears all black, an open windbreaker over a sleek shirt with cargo pants. A silver necklace hangs around his neck, a rounded chain with an edged cross upon it. He flicks the cigarette butt under the car as he walks from it towards a motorbike, a black and blue Honda CBR 600. Behind him come a group of suited men, some holding handguns. They call to him, threateningly. The young man stops in his step, and turns his head faintly to the side.
“Here we go,” he says with a sad smile and a slight nod.
The group of armed men looks at each other in confusion. The young man continues to his bike and gets on the seat staring downward. They point their weapons and yell at him to stop. Instead he starts the bike up and revs the engine. They begin to fire and run towards him as he peels out of the first level. The men continue to fire at the walls around him as he heads down the driveway to the bottom level. Then the first explosion from the cigarette hitting a fuel line hits the level. The men are knocked to the ground and the boy on the bike swerves out of the street entrance as the rest of the blasts hit the upper levels. The entire parking garage lights up and is rocked with each fiery explosion. Flames and flashes of light leap into the air above the streets. Loud crashing sounds can be heard as the building collapses in on itself as fiery rubble. The young man pauses only once to slightly look back with a half-cocked head. Wet eyes glisten with the reflection of the flames. He gazes around the city as the sirens sound. Then he looks down at his hands.
“Goodbye…” he mumbles to the ground. And then revving up the engine, he drives into an ally way and disappears into the shadows to the sound of approaching sirens.
The next morning three letters are opened around the same hour in three different cities. One by a young lady in Boise, Idaho, one by a forty-year-old woman in Phoenix, Arizona, and one by a young man in Phoenix also. Both women weep as they read their notes, but the boy just stares in a bewildered awe. “Alright…” He says to himself. Well, I guess this is it. Good luck Adam. Wherever you are.
chapter one:
It’s another hot summer afternoon in Los Angeles, California. Approaching a small gas station outside the city is a familiar Honda motorbike. It pulls in. The driver, wearing a sleek black sleeveless shirt, and black cargo pants, steps off his bike next to a pump. He takes off his helmet and runs his hand through his now longer hair. His eyes look more concentrated and serious, and he now sports a trim goatee on his chin. He scans the view, taking in all his surroundings. The sun hangs high overhead, and the city can be seen over some foothills. The young man wipes his forehead with is shirt, curses the heat under his breath, then strolls into the store.
Walking down the candy isle he picks up a snickers bar. Reading the wrapper he spots a ‘NASCAR Prize’ ad on it. The boy sighs, looking at it, lost in memories.
Then a low humming and beat sound can be heard outside. He is the only one to pick it up at first. It grows louder a minute later and others in the store can hear it, and the clerk turns towards the entrance. The young man walks to one of the windowpanes that make up the store’s outer wall. He sees three very nice cars pull up to the station. A red Honda, a dark blue Firebird, and a white Malibu. As the occupants exited their vehicles he could see that each car had a male driver with two of them having a young lady with them. Before the new arrivals got out of their cars, he could hear the loud systems in them before the engines were turned off. The men and girls walked straight into the store, one guy briefly gazing at the young man’s bike, still by the pump outside.
The young man easily sidesteps the door as it opens, and moves over to look at the magazines and papers in the newsstand. He glances over the headlines of the newspapers and spies the title: “9 killed in Phoenix parking lot explosion following SWAT and Blood Runner ‘crime lords’ shootout.” He then looks up into the glass; it reflects the images of the drivers and their girls concentrated in the beverage isle. The young man turns back to the paper and swiftly reads the article.
It read: “throughout California, Nevada, Arizona, and parts of the entire West Coast, the hi-tech crime syndicate known as the ‘Blood Runners’ has given the law and government officials such hard time, that there was no hope of staying the crime waves occurring at such high and drastic levels. The rate of this organizations development and activities had, however, declined steadily in the past few months. Until the night of May 22nd, that is, when a large set of explosions rocked downtown Phoenix following a skirmish with a large SWAT team force. The blasts from an incinerated fuel line completely demolished a parking garage there. Authorities can now confirm that there were 8 members of the ‘Blood Runners’ involved with the firefight against a SWAT team outside the building before the time of the explosion. The syndicate’s members are the primary suspects in the destruction of almost a block of downtown Phoenix. However they succumbed to their own deaths within the garage and were not the only victims of the blast. A promising young law student, Adam S. Haines was also in the building at the time of the incident. Surveillance shows that the young man was defending the held down team against the crime lords, and he drew them into the building, where all perished in the blast. Many are calling his death murder. No identifiable bodies could be accounted for, so Adam’s funeral consisted of his ashes being buried in the honored Warren Hill graveyard by the Capitol. Members of the State Office and the Police Department showed to mourn this courageous martyr. Adam leaves behind a proud Father, Mother and brother, as well as his fiancée Ariana Tearese. Officials continue to reconstruct and….”
There is a small picture of a young man next to one of a formal looking funeral. The picture is a softer version of the boy reading the paper. A small tear falls down his cheek. Adam gazes out the windowpane before him. Cars drive by on the highway and the loud sounds of the road are blurred together. Then silence, pure cold silence. Then the sights blur together in to memories and flashbacks. Recollections of that fateful night. Angry men, gunshots, and driving away. All of the frenzied activity leading up to the final blast. Adam shakes out of it as he senses someone near. He sees one of the drivers coming up behind him in the reflecting glass. He doesn’t turn.
Great.
“Yo Mario, check this cat’s gear. Like he’s a biker or something…” says the approaching stranger as he taps Adam’s helmet. Adam doesn’t flinch, he just stares straight solemnly ahead.
The other two and the girls walk up. “ Jesus Eddie, just grope him why don’t you.” Said the one who Eddie called Mario.
“Shut up man.” Eddie quips. “I’m just checking out this cat’s gear. You don’t mind, do you bro?” Didn’t sound like much of a question to Adam. He turned and looked the strangers up and down. The two girls were behind the guys, whispering and giggling like girls do. The men were just kind of staring mildly dumbstruck at Adam’s silence, waiting for a reaction. So Adam looks Eddie in the eye contentiously and says, “No, I don’t believe I do.” Handing out the helmet to Eddie while doing so. That was not what they had expected. And the girls drew quiet, while the other two men started chuckling loudly. Eddie gave a nervous little grin and taking the helmet form Adam. It was a sleek black with dark blue runes and designs all about it. Soon Eddie handed it back without a word, but it showed that he was impressed with its design.
Mario stopped chuckling to step forward and ask, “What’s your name bro?” Adam moved slightly in front of the newsstand.
My name is Adam Haines. You know, the one who died in the explosions.
“Nelson. My name is Nelson.”
“Ok Nelson. That would be your bike out there?” Mario asked.
“Yes,” ‘Nelson’ replied cautiously.
“Looks like a real nice ride. Anyways, name’s Mario. This is Louis, and that retard in front of you is Eddie.” Mario said, and Eddie looked like he wanted to protest, but thought better of it and nodded with a sheepish grin.
Then something actually shocked ‘Nelson’, one of the girls stepped forward and spoke.
“And who are we, hubcaps?” She gave a stern look to the boys. “I’m Thalia and this is Shakira. For some reason we like to hang out with these little boys.” Nelson shook her hand.
“Umm… Ok, nice to meet you all and everything, but I have to jet. Got to make the city before dark and all.” Nelson turned and moved towards the door as Mario called out to him.
“Hey. You sticking around L.A.?”
“Yeah,” Nelson replied. “Yeah, I guess I am.”
“Here,” Mario tossed a card at Nelson. “Check it out sometime. Just ask for one of us. You’re a pretty cool dude Nelson. It’ll be cool if you stop by.”
Nelson briefly checked it, then stowed it away in his pocket. “Uh… thanks.” He mumbled as he walked out to his motorcycle. It wasn’t hard to sense the eyes watching him pass through the windowpanes. He looked at the store once more as he got on his bike, gave a small, sad smile then shook his head and put on his helmet. Nelson drove towards the city then, and kept driving till nightfall.
10/20/2003 3:12:40 AM
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