1) The narrator was part of a government experiment that gave him powers and allowed him to read minds. He escaped with 11 other experiment subjects, including a telepath named Raechel. 2) Over time, the others started disappearing as they were hunted by the government. When Raechel and the narrator were attacked, Raechel tortured their attackers in a cruel way, disturbing the narrator. 3) They went into hiding but the narrator saw on TV that their faces were now known to the public as wanted criminals, endangering them all.

1. Revenge 1
R evenge
Christian M. Gundestrup
It's over. I've had my revenge, and now that everything is done, I feel compelled to
write the end of my species. To explain the desolation of this planet to any who may someday
find it, devoid of all life. This is not to justify my actions, to seek a pardon from distant
civilizations or God. This, is to tell the story of mankind, and it's end.
There was no plague, no massive nuclear war. No cataclysmic earthquakes or
volcanoes, no asteroid. I didn't outlast everyone in a global game of zombie tag. This isn't
some survivors journal. I'm not the last man standing, I'm not a survivor. What I am, is the man
who exterminated humanity.
I began as the victim, before I was abducted I heard my family killed one after another.
Dad crying out, then silent. Sobs followed by muffled thuds. I waited for them to come for me,
father's pistol in hand, my breathing slow and heart steady. My capture cost them 8 men.
Before my last shot could free my spirit, a needle pierced my neck. And it was too late.
I awoke deep underground in one of 2 secret labs across the country. This near Vegas,
the other... unknown. I had theories, but nothing solid. Subject 387 had been in this facility 3
weeks.
Suddenly I realized I shouldn't know these things. Only then did I question who 387
was. I could hear the mind of the attendant scientist. The test was complete, but they couldn't
understand why. My watcher turned his attention to the notes on various experiments
performed on me as well as the others. How many others? His mind answered: 12. You are the
387th soul bind experiment, the first to survive.
I was careful in my questioning. I felt I could tear his mind apart and take what I
needed, but I didn't want to be found out. So I prodded gently, following the winding paths his
surface thoughts took. Until finally, I found the only answer that mattered.
I was dead. Attempts to manipulate my soul had killed me, like all those before. But I
returned. A sudden burst of “virtual particles” flooded life back into my now meaningless body.

2. Revenge 2
Whatever they'd done, I'd changed. I became a god. I thought and the universe listened.
I don't understand my powers, not their function or origin. Nor do I truly believe myself
a god. But how else could I be classified? I knew, god or not, these people had made me and
likely could unmake me. So I waited. I rummaged through the minds of everyone in that
bunker. Softly nudging their thoughts until I had what I needed.
I was careful and waited to make contact with my fellow captives. Quickly though, I
realized they were nothing like me. There were 3 telekinetics, one so weak he couldn't even
stand on his own. The other two barely better off. A feverish flamer, 2 spasming shockers, 4
regenerators more cancer than human, a man in agony and lastly a telepath.
I'd expected their sad states based on my eavesdropping, but the telepath had fooled
them. Supposedly she could project short messages, but not receive, and was slowly getting
stronger. So, she was able to live on as a stepping stone, largely ignored. She was winning
the silent war of captors and captives.
She was different from the other 11. Rather than thoughts of pain, suffering, and a
desperate wish for an end, she had a plan. She'd learned to subtly navigate the mind, to send
mental commands natural enough that they were obeyed.
She'd been working on several of the scientists and guards and believed she would be
able to suggest her way to freedom in a month or so. Finally I noticed something, she knew I
was looking and hadn't bothered to hide. She'd even traced my probe back and, more
practiced than I at thought scouring, had finished first then sent a message: Hey. I'm Raechel.
Followed by a smile.
I'm Stephen.
I know. [smile]
Let's get out of here.
Yeah.
We took different routes and didn't meet until the end of our escape. When at last I saw
a shadow behind the falling dust and rubble I knew it was her.
I parted the sea of sediment, to catch a glimpse of tangled brown hair, a pale face
smattered with scratches and a radiant grin, excitedly sparkling amber eyes. Once white lab
clothes, torn and unflattering, smeared with blood and dirt. Mottled with bruises, and leaning
heavily on an iron pipe, she limped between the walls of descending debris leading

3. Revenge 3
unbelieving escapees the last few steps toward freedom.
With the world raining down around us, our eyes met and everything slowed until only
we remained. I will never forget that eternal instant, no matter how I might wish to.
Our plan was simple. She would lead our people to freedom, while I roamed the halls
an angel of death, raining fire and plague on data and men. At last we met on the shores of
the oceans of dust, and once united I somehow twisted space.
We appeared in my old house in one piece. Safe for the moment, we took stock of our
injuries. I was unharmed, Raechel had cuts and bruises and a very sprained ankle, besides
her customary headaches. The others were much worse off. All the excitement had been too
much for their weak bodies. They were dying.
With my control of matter, I repaired what I could. The regenerators were too filled with
cancer, I believed binding their souls to new bodies beyond my power. Everyone else was an
easy enough fix. I balanced their gifts within their bodies so they could be healthy and still
empowered.
I buried the regenerators out back. They could die slowly or die quickly. They'd chosen
quickly. After a short ceremony for the 4, we went back inside to escape the rain. None of us
had any family left, so we decided to split up. It was time to build new lives. Most left alone,
but the shockers stuck together as did Raechel and I. We still communicated, but fear forced
us to keep secrets, to hide even from each other.
I had been gone 2 months, but the others were years removed from the world. They
had trouble adjusting and so made mistakes. A few months after our escape Tom went silent.
Each week we were supposed to send a quick email. It didn't matter what it said, though we
often included little anecdotes about our new lives. It was a way to know we were still safe.
At first we thought the telekinetic had forgotten. Days, then weeks passed and still no
word. We knew then all was not well. The hunt had begun. We got careful. 3 months later
Jacques sent a blank email a day early. He was the most talkative of us. So we worried. 2
weeks passed and Jayme, one of the lightning men sent an email 2 days after his scheduled
message.
The second mail warned us that he and Harry had been found. That Harry was dead,
and Jayme on the run. 6 remained. That night, not 15 minutes later Raechel and I were

4. Revenge 4
attacked. We sensed the intruders long before they arrived and as we prepared to teleport
out, we saw something in the anxious mind of one of our pursuers. Jacques, huddled against
a wall, shaking. Blood pouring, the man was amazed that Jacques could still be alive, much
less functioning. Somehow ignoring the holes riddling his body he pulled out his phone and
was... texting?
The man couldn't let Jacques call the police, so he shot him through the head. Jacques
tapped the phone one last time, looked at his killer and grinned. The blood streaming from the
gaping hole in his forehead turned Jacques into a fiend. The man unloaded his automatic rifle
into Jacques' chest. His torso practically disintegrated under the barrage, his face still twisted
in the grim rictus. Before dying Jacques spend his last strength crushing the phone in one
hand.
We decided not to run. So we killed them. Not quickly, Raechel said that was too easy.
She wanted them to suffer. Instead she turned them against each other. She sowed fear.
Gave waking nightmares, made them obey her suggestions. It took hours, but finally only one
man remained.
Convulsing with fear and reeking of urine, he was convinced he'd stirred up a nest of
devils. Comrades fell one by one. Some turning on friends, others shouting at nothing. Spirits
flitted about in the shadows, teasing, toying. I was shocked by her cruelty. And disgusted. He
was nearly mad when finally she let him go.
I'd pulled away much earlier. Too appalled to watch, and worse, feel her bitterness. I
called her name, and reached out tentatively with my mind. She refused to look at me, or
accept my connection. Her shoulders were slumped, but stiff. She went to where we had
gathered our stuff and waited to leave, her back to me. I teleported from where I was. I didn't
need to be close.
We again built a life. Always careful, no mistakes. Her nightmares about that night
lessened, though never disappeared. It was a fairly happy life. We still kept up our weekly
correspondences and there were no more raids. Then, after 6 months, I got another early
mail.
From Jayme, it simply said: Check the news. Disconcerting but not too worrisome. We

5. Revenge 5
did occasionally communicate off schedule. I turned on the TV, curious, and found my face
dominating the screen. I froze in shock, and when a picture of Raechel appeared, I dropped
the remote in horror. Next came Jayme, Kayley, Sorin and finally Alex.
Each picture had a name. Sorin's read James. It's strange now, to think how much that
interested me. I fixated on his name. Something simple. Sorin had been in captivity the
longest, and couldn't remember much of his past, so he made a new name. He was a little
strange, but not worryingly so. I wondered how he'd taken the news. My phone buzzed.
It was Sorin, “James huh? Lame...” I grinned. His unending positivity had helped us
endure the isolation and difficulties of nearly a year on the run. By now we'd all had close
shaves, and done things we'd rather forget. But he was always there to bring a smile to our
faces.
We weren't totally blindsided by the story, our posters had been hanging in law
enforcement offices the world over for ages. Sorin liked to joke that we were international
celebrities. We'd even appeared in newspapers a few times with elaborate tales of our
imaginary crimes including the slaughter of our families. My phone vibrated again, this time
from quiet, thoughtful Alex, the other telekinetic.
“They didn't mention the regenerators. That means they found them.” We'd had a lot of
conversations since our escape. We knew they were hunting us as the only remnants of
years of study. So we were careful about leaving DNA. But it had always seemed risky to go
check the bodies. Besides the fact that the house was almost certainly watched, there was a
good chance that they had already been found. Now we knew.
Once we'd realized our continued breath didn't effect our value, we arranged a meeting
where I altered everyone again, this time to disintegrate once dead. This likely had saved us
some trouble. When Jacques and Harry became dust, they must have realized they'd need a
new strategy. My phone rang. It was Raechel. She was coming home early. I could hear
strain in her voice.
She enjoyed talking to people without knowing their every thought so she'd taken a job
in a call center. She'd been well liked by everyone in the office, but they'd heard the news and
suddenly weren't so sure. It started as whispers in the back of their minds. Then moved up
and out, becoming an audible buzz. Raechel tried keep to herself, but when enough people

6. Revenge 6
mutter the same thing it stands out. I could imagine how terrible it would be to have your
friends start wondering, then turning on you, one by one. Worse to feel it, not just know it.
I flipped channels to see how widespread the attack was. They all were the same. So I
settled in to watch. Our pictures had just been cycling, with a message running along the
bottom. “Do not approach. Dangerous. More details forthcoming.”
By then we had a chat going on about what we should do. Really it boiled down to just
wait and see. Soon enough Raechel got back, her pain barely contained. She sat next to me
and snuggled close, tears falling silently as she watched the screen. Finally it changed.
Sorin: “Oooo, we got the pres!”
Jayme: “We're famous now!”
Alex: “No one will forget our faces.”
Kayley: “Oh good, I've always wanted to be a star... :P”
Me: “It's story time!! I love fantasy... Rae got back safe from work btws.”
Kayley: “Good. I'd rather not be the last girl. Too bad about all the regens. We could
use more female energy in this group.”
Sorin: “No argument here. As pretty as Stephen is, he's no lady! If only there was a fine
young woman in a similar situation as myself that I could shower with love...”
Kayley: “Keep dreaming JAMES. You know I only have eyes for Alex. So mysterious
and innocent. Mmmm”
Alex: “I wish you'd leave me out of this...”
Kayley: “Never sweetie. XOXOX”
Sorin: “You are now my eternal rival. Thought you ought to know.”
Jayme: “Shhhh, I can't hear our public debut over the sounds of your rejection.”
Sorin: “Ouch! That hurt Jayme, that really hurt.”
Smiling at the relaxed conversation, I looked up at the TV again. Even Raechel had
lightened up a bit. Sorin had done it again. Sometimes I wondered if it was just his personality
or if he consciously made an effort to cheer everyone up. Regardless, we all loved him
deeply.
The announcement was basically the truth. I think that surprised us more than anything
else. He left out the part about being government lab rats, insisting we were dangerous

7. Revenge 7
mutants. He even gave a summary of our powers. As far as they knew, which was thankfully
very little.
The thing dragged on with tales of all we'd done to destroy society. Some were true.
But not many, our deeds were exaggerated and twisted. But all in all it was fairly believable.
They even had video. Apparently some of the soldiers who'd tried to capture Kayley had
helmet cameras, and some footage of flames shooting from her hands and incinerating a man
was recovered.
Once it was all over it was time to plan. As usual it was Alex who really nailed it. He
suggested admitting to being “mutants” rather than fighting it, to try to fit in with society as we
were, to be seen just as human as anyone else.
We were counting on curiosity to buy some sympathy and time. The first few days were
filled with skeptical news anchors, scientists, teachers. All anyone in the world talked about
was us. We were the internet for a day or two. Then, when Alex thought it right, we made our
move.
We scheduled group interviews with any stations or sources that would have us. We
made sure to put our best foot forward, thus Sorin did most of the talking, and his charm won
some support. The government held off its attack because of our popularity. But it was a very
unstable thing. There were constant debates, each yielding very different results. One motion
would fail, then be replaced by another.
No one knew what to do with us. They were afraid, and intrigued. After 2 weeks fear
was winning out. The video of Kayley had somehow gotten online and in days became the
most watched thing of all time. Horror stories circulated. We were fast becoming societies
biggest problem. Some lunatics even tried to lay blame for elevated teen pregnancy at our
feet.
Almost no one believed it, but that wasn't all we were blamed for. Heightened suicides?
Illusionist. Forest fires? Kayley. Melting ice caps? Kayley. She bore the brunt of the attacks
and became more and more reserved. Just when things seemed beyond repair Sorin had an
idea.
He proposed that Raechel and I should get married. That it would be the perfect thing
to show that we really aren't that different. He'd first suggested that it be him and Kayley, but

8. Revenge 8
she'd shot that down with some of her old fire.
It went great. There was a huge upswing in our portrayal. In the 3 weeks since we'd
been outed, nothing bad or even unusual had happened, despite spending nearly every
second under surveillance. We'd kept our abilities secret, both to keep from adding fuel to the
flames and for protection. We made sure to be as normal as possible. Our wedding was
planned for the coming week. I was careful to get on one knee somewhere our entourage of
spies would see and record.
Once word got out everyone demanded interviews. We told of our meeting in the
facility, that we'd been dating for a year and now that we don't have to hide, it's finally time.
Everyone loved it. Then on the day of our wedding everything went wrong.
We passed throngs of protesters, hordes of paparazzi and masses of curious
onlookers and entered the church where various people of influence along with some of the
more well known media personalities were collected. Especially those who had spoken out in
our favor.
I was nervous beyond belief. Not because I didn't want to marry her. I did. I can't really
say why I was so jittery, maybe that's how all men are on their wedding day. But I was pretty
scared. We all gathered in the chapel hall waiting, until finally the back doors opened and in
walked an angel.
Her hair was perfectly sculpted into perfect curls falling perfectly onto perfect shoulders
covered by a perfectly simple yet elegant white dress. Lashes flared out perfectly above eyes
that were a perfect shade of dark honey ringed with perfect liner and shadow. Lips a perfect
shade of almost natural pinkish red pulled into a shy smile that was just perfect. In this perfect
moment our eyes met and once more time stopped.
Our minds leapt free from our bodies, met and entwined. We danced together, spinning
and twisting in shafts of light shining through stained windows. In a beautiful eternity we
became one being, sharing our souls and thoughts. In that instant of intimacy beyond
anything any human has ever felt, bathed in a mosaic of colors, I realized that Raechel was
worth more to me than anything.
Time wrenched back into its normal course with a spark. To play with the public's fear
of Kayley, we were attacked with fire. We'd prepared for this, the plan was to leave peacefully.

9. Revenge 9
With the sudden appearance of soldiers we began to move, but in those first moments of
confusion, everything ground to a halt when they turned their flamethrowers on the guests.
Nearly half had been killed before we realized what was happening. We tried to help but then
the assault truly began.
Our strength dwindled but our enemies remained strong. We'd gathered with Alex and
Sorin projecting a telekinetic barrier while I tried to pull the surviving guests to safety. Soon
our protectors were nearing exhaustion, we had no chance of saving anyone if we kept on
this way. So we changed tactics. We attacked.
In moments we'd destroyed most of our enemies, when suddenly everything exploded.
In the seconds before we were swallowed, I latched onto my friends and teleported. We
arrived home panting and singed. I quickly healed the group while Alex turned on the news.
It was, of course, all across the world already. None of the cameras from inside the
building had transmitted anything, apparently jammed the moment they'd crossed the
threshold. Those outside heard only screams ring out, saw waves of soldiers pour inside,
flashes of fire then an explosion.
The burst was so intense that little of the structure remained. Only the odd stone pillar.
The flames were already dying down, having consumed just about everything. By the time the
firemen arrived there was nothing left to do. No one survived. The casualty count kept rising
and rumors grew as hours passed.
Above all was “Why?” Everyone wondered why we would ignore the extended olive
branch. No one questioned that it was us. Never mind it was our wedding day, never mind
those inside were our biggest supporters. We were different thus we were feared.
Whispers spread across all mass media of a tape that survived the fire. We waited and
watched. Kayley took it particularly hard. The toll the past month had taken on her was
obvious. So gentle, yet portrayed a monster and now this.
An hour after the fire had calmed, a short clip leaked. It lasted only a few seconds, and
consisted of Kayley wreathed in flames, eyes smoldering as a devil before a bright flash and
nothing. The government took the station off air, but too late. It flooded across the internet,
condemning us. Kayley shut down. Too much had been heaped on her shoulders. She
couldn't bear being so feared and hated. In numb silence she rushed to the bathroom. We

10. Revenge 10
exchanged glances, silently and unanimously voting Sorin as comforter.
Soon enough the other stations reported on the video though they didn't show it. But
after 30 minutes it was proven fake. Some technically gifted idiot simply added effects to the
original. Then came another emergency broadcast by the president.
He said they'd taken the station down to avoid panic. They wanted to give us the
benefit of the doubt. They wanted to believe us. They'd finally repaired the real tape enough
to watch it and he then warned that viewer discretion was advised on what would follow.
To we who had been there, it was obviously false and had been planned ahead of
time. There was no way to make CGI that clean so quickly. We were painted as villains.
Raucous killers. They made sure to throw in lots of Kayley, but all of us were monsters in one
way or another.
Rae manipulated streams of crimson snakes torn from dying celebrities, her wedding
dress dripping with blood. I was cloaked in writhing shadows twisting into terrible shapes that
lashed out plucking eyes from skulls. The orbs then brought around my head in a gory crown,
stalks dangling upwards. Sorin ripped bodies into smaller and smaller pieces while laughing
maniacally. Alex glared and what once lived became a chunky mist. Jayme touched and flesh
rotted.
It was the most horrid thing we'd ever seen. What hurt most were our faces rejoicing in
the slaughter. Finally in a flash of fire emanating from Kayley it ended, and the president's
disgusted face returned. He seemed to be fighting the urge to vomit. Jaw tight, he again
warned the public to keep distant and expressed his disappointment that we would abuse
their trust.
The screen cut to a list of victims, officially numbering them and naming the more
famous or tragic cases. A humanitarian who'd donated billions to charity, a beloved actor and
actress with their newborn. Soldiers of now fatherless families. Journalist careers tragically
cut short. We had turned on them all, to us this was nothing more than a game.
Without much else to do we teleported around collecting belongings before returning
home. With everything packed, we waited. Despite everything, despite knowing there was no
place for us any longer, we still hoped that something would happen. Something to save us.
Something did happen, but nothing good. A dull roar slowly grew outside my house. I

11. Revenge 11
closed my eyes and found thousands of enraged minds shouting. A mob armed with axes,
shovels and the occasional gun had come for us.
Kayley saw the video, and collapsed into tears again, incapable of contributing to our
planning of what to do next, but there was no time. So they argued while I went out to the
milling throng.
I was surprised at their number. Rae and I lived in a smallish suburb, it always seemed
so quiet. Yet here were thousands amassed. Word of my appearance spread, and everyone
jostled to get a view of the monster among them. I waited.
I stood there relaxed, listening to their confused thoughts. They began to mutter, then
speak and lastly to shout frequent curses and occasional hive minded threats.
Finally enough collective courage was found to throw the first stone. I simply let it miss,
then started walking. Instant silence, the waves of men swirled around me.
I was surrounded by angry and terrified parents, people who wanted safety and
comfort. Some knew me, but not many. This wasn't personal, it was something deeper,
something primal. It was fear of change. I was a catalyst, not a person. Once I understood, I
knew I couldn't hurt them.
I stood there, unmoving, uncaring as they again built up the nerve to attack. I let them
hit me. First from a distance, then one brave soul sprinted forward and smashed with his
sledge hammer before fleeing. His idea spread and the ocean swallowed me.
My body was superfluous. I felt no pain. I wasn't damaged in any way. I let them vent
their frustration. Let the storm crash around me. 10 minutes had passed since I'd come
outside. The tide of men decided I wasn't enough, and began to surge towards my house.
Unacceptable.
I teleported to my lawn, and stared them down. The sea calmed when I spoke. “Stop.”
My voice was unrelenting steel. I saw a shiver travel many spines. Then one fool decided to
test me. He slowly, inched his foot forward. About to touch grass he flew up and back into the
crowd.
I glared and they retreated. But didn't go home. Some hidden strength held them. I
searched and found the military, here to kill or capture us. Time was up. I went home,
collected everyone, found the closest thing to an answer they had and we left.

12. Revenge 12
We appeared in the middle of nowhere Africa. It had been decided that, as the most
isolated yet habitable land we could find, this would be best. So I conjured up a nice mansion
and we settled into our new lives.
I occasionally disguised myself and journeyed to civilization to pick up things we
needed or wanted and collect information. 8 months passed in peace. The whole world
searched for us, terrified that we couldn't be found. This fear brought a colossal shift to
societal structure.
Everyone began congregating into megacities. The world's population bunched
together into frightened masses. A few refused to gather, though none denied the worldwide
distribution of special bracelets that began simply as an emergency system. Sound the alarm
and the calvary would come running. Such was the fear of mutants.
It was a time of prosperity. There was housing for any who wanted it, more food than
anyone needed, clean affordable energy. Humanity had finally united and begun to solve their
problems.
No one expected such a radical change. It began with riots, men trying to seize power,
monsters preying in the confusion. But they were all quickly brought down. Not by any
government or group, but by the people themselves. The fear inspired by their oppressors
was nothing next to what we enkindled.
First one regime fell, then another and another, soon all the world united under the
common man. Governments adapted or collapsed. It was a time of great turmoil and of great
progress. Each megacity became a nation, but a worldwide over-government was also
established. Everything was decided by ballot, both locally and globally.
This unheard of level of unity produced many wonders. Technological advances
surged with so much cooperation. Almost every issue the world had been facing before our
exposure had either been solved or would be soon. Crime was almost nonexistent, death
from curable disease had fallen to next to nothing. The Earth seemed a paradise. To
everyone but us.
We were the spark, but couldn't enjoy the warmth of this new world. Alex theorized a
society built on fear couldn't last. I wasn't so sure. Fear might have brought everyone
together, but it wasn't fear that made them invent, create and progress.

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They found us because so few people remained outside the Cities. Satellites mapped
the globe, flagged our house, and overlaid it with the GPS markers of the bracelets. The lack
of Lifebands was what did it. Literally every human on Earth had one, all 7 some-odd billion.
But we weren't human. They sent several thousand soldiers to check.
We learned this from their minds. They didn't expect to find us, but were cautious. So
when we met them outside our home, they were shocked. Our discovery instantly spread
worldwide. More evidence that this new Earth would have lasted. They felt no need to keep
secrets anymore. A quick vote was cast, and the troops withdrew a safe distance, waited for
reinforcements and another more formal motion.
The branch of the World Army we encountered was from Egypt City. The Egyptians
were responsible for the retreat. But our fate hung on a global decision. It was simply yes or
no: Should we attack? After days of discussion, coincidentally the time it took for 10,000 more
soldiers to join the Egyptians, the vote had been cast.
So on that day, we resisted. Over 5.5 billion people demanded our extinction. We knew
there was no option but to fight. And here was a good a place as any.
The battle lasted an hour. Not one of us was so much as scratched, and not one of
them survived. We didn't know what to do with the bodies, so we left them. Alex suggested
we warn the world away. So I “hacked” into their satellites and broadcast a message to every
TV, computer and Lifeband.
Nothing more than the words: leave us alone. They didn't. We watched the responses
to our missive and defense. Again no secrets were kept, full coverage of the entire battle was
available to those of a responsible age, now 16.
They didn't alter the video, not that 6 slaughtering 12,000 in scarcely an hour needs
embellishment. No one questioned how our powers had changed.
We endured raids of increasing numbers of valiant men and women, thinking only of
protecting their species. We lost Alex a month later. In a fight against 150,000 he slipped and
nearly disintegrated under the hail of bullets. By then we'd killed over 300,000. We had to
make a decision about the bodies, hoping to inspire terror and peace Alex had come up with
a cruel plan.
In those last months, Alex had changed. His timidity became sullen, his quiet,

14. Revenge 14
brooding. He came up with strategies that kept us alive, but to do so took something from
him. We'd been reluctant to try his plan, but his death reminded us that this was war. There
was no surrender, we'd tried peace and been hunted. It was them or us. Our only hope was
inaction based on fear.
So that night we did it. Or, rather, I did it. I gathered the fallen by the tens of thousands
in my mental embrace, and on 6 unlucky Cities, it began to rain, not water, but corpses.
This grim tradition continued. There was no pattern to the Cities rained on, but
everyone learned to fear the night after an attack. The gathered data on our abilities and
secrets of our creation had not entirely died with the old world. After a month they'd devised a
field that prevented teleportation.
Jayme was cut down, by a nonconductive blade designed to bypass our barriers.
Kayley was cornered and nearly torn to pieces by men in flame resistant suits. She was only
saved by Sorin, ignoring the hordes at his back. I was able to reattach Kayley's arm and grow
Sorin new eyes.
I could heal anything but death. I could feel souls flowing out, dissipating after a few
seconds into the afterlife or nothingness. Wherever they go, I can't follow. After, I went to
deliver the latest storm to New York, nothing happened. The dead didn't disappear, they just
laid there, vacantly staring.
I was confused, and troubled. The fights were getting harder, and longer. Always they
came bearing new equipment. Usually pointless, but with occasional successes. I
remembered trying to jump to Kayley's side but failing. I quickly forgot about it when Sorin
rushed over, despite being blind. He could “see” with his telekinesis.
Worried I warped outside New York, fashioned a new body and walked in. No one was
outside, likely fearing the rains. I could hear thoughts through the walls. I searched until finally
finding a man of authority. He'd helped build the dimensional anchor here and was confident
in it.
We weren't sad to see the rains go. But we knew we were doomed. Instead of
cowering, Earth had screamed its defiance. We had no other hopes, we couldn't run forever.
Nor would we have even if possible. This was our home. Our friends had died for it, and so
would we. This marked our end.

15. Revenge 15
11 months after abandoning our homes, nearly 2 years since our escape, we finally
were beaten. Not done, we hadn't given up, but we knew we couldn't win. They develop better
methods of destroying us, become more united and cohesive. We just die. Sorin joked that at
least our deaths would mean something. We'd changed the world. No one laughed.
The strain had taken its toll on all of us. Raechel's nightmare came more frequently
along with new ones. Kayley fell inward, rarely speaking, shouldering all blame. Even Sorin
rarely smiled anymore. I didn't sleep, not that I needed it, I didn't like what I saw when my
eyes closed. We were falling apart.
Still, we resisted. We knew we had no chance, but neither would we go quietly into the
dark. We had long since stopped keeping count of our victims, but they didn't. There were
millions. A mere handful against the massive surge of volunteers flooding into the WA.
Around a billion were either on standby, actively training or serving.
A day after a year in Africa, 2 days after the latest attack, I went to a City. While
checking up on the latest intel I stumbled onto something horrible. They were going to attack
again. The last old-world soldiers were going to try and strike when we weren't ready. They
had little hope, but they had luck. My immortality had always been a huge part of our victories,
and I was gone.
I sprinted down the alley I'd been hiding in, reached an open area and skimmed. I
couldn't fly, but I could telekinetically push myself while hovering above the ground. I maxed
out at 100ish mph, so it took several minutes to get out of the City, even once I became
incorporeal. The second I was free from the dimensional anchor I appeared home.
Too late.
I saw mounds of corpses, some burned, others pierced with friendly fire and many cut
by invisible blades. The biggest pile both burnt and cut. I had appeared closest to Kayley and
Sorin, so I climbed the hill of crispy and sliced men to find their bodies torn almost beyond
recognition. They had long since faded to wherever souls go.
I felt some guilt, but logically knew there was nothing I could have done. It had to come
eventually. We'd all made peace with that, though I'd done my best to avoid thinking of the
day when I'd be alone. I'd even forced Rae to agree to flee if it was just the two of us. We'd
leave fake bodies behind and try again somewhere else.

16. Revenge 16
I hesitated to go to her epicenter. I didn't want to see her broken body. I didn't want to
have that haunting my thoughts for eternity. But I had to know. So I scrambled numbly over
mounds of dead and found... nothing. She wasn't there. I was confused, until I saw some
strange spots in the field. As if bodies had been taken away. Raechel's methods tended to
leave some survivors but there weren't any. Then I understood. They had her. They'd taken
Raechel and left. They'd finally reclaimed an experiment.
I appeared in the rubble of my home, found an active connection to the internet and
dived in. I waded through terabytes of data, swam deeper and deeper. One search performed
endlessly. Where is Raechel? Finally I found her. London. Before disconnecting, my face
appeared on every screen across the globe. Cold, threatening: “Give. Her. Back.”
I'd interrupted a seconds old broadcast announcing her capture. A worldwide story,
calling for consensus. To execute her or keep her alive as the key to immortality. Too fast.
They shouldn't have even made it to London yet. I checked the clock, 2 months had passed.
Suddenly the increased defenses around London made sense. Supposedly a prototype
for the other Cities, that soon would spread if functional. I'd seen so many things, and ignored
all but Rae. I'd rejected the latest advancements in Lifeband tech despite how much it'd
previously interested me. Given no attention to the discovery and universal acceptance of a
shot that cured any disease and added years to a life.
Nothing mattered to me but her. That blind focus hid her. I pulled out after my warning.
Then teleported as close to London as possible, and began skimming to the center. They'd
increased the range of the anchor so far it took an hour.
Whilst crossing the strait I watched the news. They sought a unanimous decision and
just as I crossed into the city, they reached one. 6.5 billion eligible humans decided to kill my
wife.
I'd neutralized air fleets, ignored bombs and the strongest weapons ever devised by
man. Alone, I'd slain millions of well trained soldiers. Yet they feared my potential children.
They would take all that was dear to me and destroy it. First my family, then my life and
freedom. Next my place in society, then one by one my friends. And now they would take
Raechel.
No. I wouldn't let them. I didn't care who I had to kill. I didn't care how many. I would

17. Revenge 17
get her back no matter the cost. I probed until I found the plaza where she was held. I was
close.
Apparently euthanasia didn't work. I'd enhanced her body to adapt to the forced
mutation that gave her her powers. What were drugs compared to that? So they decided on a
sword.
She was chained, kneeling, to the platform with her head pulled off to one side. Her
hair hung down her shoulder and face, clean and straight. She seemed as perfect as ever,
untouched by months of captivity. The blade was pressed, point down, where the neck and
shoulder met, above her heart. I saw the executioner tense, preparing to drive it home.
Then I arrived. Before he built up the courage to strike, I interrupted by slamming into
the surrounding force barrier. Soldiers emerged from their hiding places, armed with the most
advanced mutant killing weapons. I needed to get inside. I smashed over and over with all my
telekinetic strength, straining with inhuman muscles.
I could feel the bubble weakening. I was getting through. But they couldn't know that.
They turned to their task, ignoring me, trusting soldiers and inventions to do their jobs. The
sword pierced her heart as I shattered the shield. I reached for her mind.
There was nothing. Not one trace of an intelligent thought. She was empty, hollow. I
thought they'd broken her, but after brutally ransacking official minds I understood. This was a
clone, made to hide the tortures inflicted on the real Raechel and to distract me.
Hope bubbled. Maybe she still lived, safe, for further experimentation. Seeing only that
flickering chance that I could still save Rae, I teleported. I felt the resistance of the anchor, but
I broke through. My desperation was stronger than anything they could build. Stronger than
anything in this world.
Mounted before me on a cold steel slab, was Rae. The real one. I cast my mind out to
her battered and torn body. Again, nothing. She was cold. Her soul had long since fled that
tortured shell. Her throat gaped, blood spread across her white hospital-gown. A few drops
sporadically falling to the crimson floor.
I was too late. I fell to my knees, too weak to approach. Too numb to even cry, to resist
as rough hands grabbed me. Until they tried to drag me from her. I snapped back to life,

18. Revenge 18
plunged into the minds of everyone near and found the one who'd killed her.
He'd enjoyed it, enjoyed toying with her, conducting terrible experiments, deliberately
painful. I saw her last moments, I felt the pressure of drawing the dull blade across her neck.
Warm blood seeping across my hand as I cut. The taste as I licked my fingers. Liquid copper.
Before murdering my wife, I knew she was already gone. The joy in tormenting her had fled.
Her mind was broken.
I still remember the tingle of pleasure running up my spine as I felt skin bend, resist,
then tear. The feeling of intoxicating power as I watched her blood stream out. I remember
watching her die and thinking of all the “fun” times we'd shared. The perverse dreams I'd had.
I reveled in that moment, the thrill of ending something so beautiful, so precious.
I know it wasn't me. But I felt everything as if it was. I have the curse of perfect
empathy, as if I were some sort of savior. I felt every second of agony as I tore hands from my
shoulders, then bodies. Every moment of fear waiting their turn as one by one I skinned the
men in the complex. Alive. I experienced the creeping numbness of blood loss then death.
The relief turned to horror when they realized that death was not the end.
I took their souls. Stole them away from the embrace of blackness or God and changed
them. I bound them to their skulls, made both indestructible, and denied them the possible
escape of madness. Through all this I left one man alone. Hovering spreadeagled above the
ground, unable to even blink, he watched as I killed everyone around him. Then it was his
turn.
I won't describe what I did. It's enough to know that never has a living being suffered
more. Ever. When came the time to kill him, my rage played out, a thought surfaced in his
mind. At least I saved humanity. I tore his brain apart to find the meaning, repaired it, and left
him hanging there with every nerve on fire, denied even the release of a scream.
That panacean shot I'd found in my search for Raechel. The one that every human on
the planet had received at least once, was made in that room. By that man. From her
suffering. His last intelligible thought in that moment of relief before presumed death was of
accomplishment born from his torturous experiments.
No. I would not let him have that. He would not have any victory, any peace. So before
I left, before I reapplied the pain, I told him something. Something that stole his every hope,

19. Revenge 19
turned his triumph to horror. “She is mine.”
He understood. His greatest gift to humanity, had become a curse. He'd doomed them
all.
I built a tower. One of billions of pieces. Around 7 billion actually. The skulls of every
last human on or near Earth. Each made eternal, each bound with a soul. I don't know if there
is a God, I don't know if He cares that I stole so much from him. But if He ever decided to
come down off His throne to find them, He could go to the Tower. And if He were to climb to
the top, using gaping jaws for His feet and empty sockets forever gazing on a dead land as
handholds, He would find 12 skulls mounted on ribless spines, ringing the last intact human
head.
So high above the ground, the wind would whistle through the Tower as hollow cries of
the damned, the curvature of an empty planet stretching in all directions. That face would be
cradled in the bony hands of a headless skeleton sitting on folded legs as if a sage in search
of wisdom. This last bit of flesh on an otherwise desiccate world will likely be screaming in the
purest agony.
If he were somehow convinced to cease his terrible wailing, he could tell you the tale of
the end of the world in excruciating detail. My final gift to him: the last memories of all those in
the Tower. The pain, the fear and sorrow. The faint, excruciating hope that maybe, just
maybe, you'll escape notice, knowing you won't.
It is a monument of all the human race amounted to. A pile of bones reaching higher
than any building ever built with steel on a planet of dust and echoes. I hope that if God does
exist, if He does climb the Tower, when He finds these pages piled neatly at the feet of the
last man, when He reads them and listens to all the words the face has to tell, that He will find
me and end me.
If He never does deign to come down, or perhaps doesn't exist, or decides I deserve
the misery of existence, then I expect I shall continue on forever. Wandering the stars and the
spaces between. Hoping, searching, for an end. Trying to forget.