Evolved: Aether Rising

Chapter 1: The Storm

"Doc, I'm still working through it."

Doctor Macaphee doesn't understand the intricacies of being me. Like any storm, I am power and chaotic and unpredictable.

The true genetic culmination of two unalike people who were pulled together for God knows why. A stunning black man with golden skin and dark eyes. She can relate to me on having dark skin, but her knowledge of being a tempest leaves much to be desired.

I am of average height, thin, and increasingly bored of our conversation. It is a very simplified summation of who I am but putting everything I am into words seems a little out of my depth at the moment. As Doctor Macaphee tries to pry how I feel about my recent break-up, I hover three stories above the ground.

As I said before, I am the storm.

As fog begins to roll over the warehouse in front of me, lightning shoots across the sky above me. A soft humming lets me know that my powers are working. I can sense the rain forming above me. I watch from above as the guards wander the perimeter, fighting against the fog.

"Have you thought about contacting him?" Dr. Macaphee asks.

I lift my hand to disconnect the call on my communication device. I stop just shy of doing so. My costume has become muggy. The black leather clings to my skin. The wind picks up around as my cape is jostled.

"No, I hadn't thought of that. That sounds like a really bad idea." I say into the communication device, "Can you hold?"

The moment Dr. Macaphee agrees, I place her on hold. I use my hands to rain down lightning on the unsuspecting guards. I use my hands to swirl the wind around the building, creating an overwhelming pressure. The windows shatter in and I use the momentary confusion to land on the second floor of the building.

One of the mercenaries, a large man with a green mohawk, is surprised as I disarm him with a knee to his wrist. I try to flip him over but he is too large. He pushes me to the ground and I roll to a stop by the window. The man laughs as picks up his gun.

"Hello? Pahras, are you there?" Dr. Macaphee asks.

"Just a minute." I say.

Thunder rumbles outside the window as I gesture towards him. Lightning breaks across the sky. I lift my left hand to catch the lighting and it bounces off my right hand, into the man's chest, knocking him over the railing to the floor below.

I jump to my feet as I call the fog through the window. It flows in through the window and down over the railing. "Yeah, doc, I think we should continue this call at another time. I'm a bit busy."

"Yes, but please think about what I suggested."

"Got it."

As she disconnects, I hear men coming up the stairs. As the men reach the top of the stairs, I use wind to create a gale force wind. The men appear to hit a wall as they bounce back, tumbling down the stairs. I walk to the edge of the railing and look over to see the fog has obscured the ground below.

I concentrate on the fog until three heat signatures present themselves. Using the growing wind, I create a small tornado in the middle of the room. The tornado swirls quickly, tossing the armed men aside before I hop over the railing and glide down in the middle of the tornado.

As I hit the ground, the tornado dies as the fog lifts. The three-armed men lay unconscious on the ground.

"Okay, Unc, what is it that you interrupted my vacation for?" I ask.

I survey the room, finding only large crates. One of the men lay beside a crowbar. I grab the crowbar and pry open one of the crates. I am not too surprised to find guns. I move to another crate and find explosives. It is clear the mercenaries are up to no good. The question is why.

The buzz of a loudspeaker assaults my ears as someone clears their throat. I look around the warehouse, noticing there are speakers everywhere.

"Mr. Rowe. It's such a pleasure to meet you." A disembodied voice says.

The disembodied voice speaks as if they are familiar with me. The low, confident tone of the man's voice is chilling. Just hearing his voice makes me feel fear. Something in the coolness tells me that I should tread carefully.

"Though I didn't intend for you to be the one to stumble upon this treasure trove, it is rather fortuitous."

"Who am I talking to?" I ask.

"How rude of me. Of course I should introduce myself. You must excuse me. I've waited a long time to meet you." He says. "For now, you can call me Mr. Big."

"Real original. I don't think I'll be calling you that." I say. "What do you want? You got a lot of guns here. I don't imagine you're going to turn these over to the government."

"No, I don't imagine I will. Since you've found this stash, I guess I'll just have to destroy the evidence."

A beeping noise calls me over to the open crate. Around me, the boxes begin to beep.

"I look forward to meeting in person, if you survive."

The boxes beep quicker. I am frozen in place. One of the crates explodes, leading to a chain reaction. I fall to the floor and pull my cape around me. The sounds of explosions ring out as I feel a cold wind. I feel displaced for a few seconds. The sounds of explosions are further now. There is no heat against my skin, only the cool night's air.

The cape falls from around me and I see I am outside. No longer am I in the room full of explosive crates, but I am ducked down on the corner opposite the warehouse. Flames ravage what is left of the warehouse. I look over to see a man in a breathable grey bodysuit

The bodysuit has yellow lightning bolts across the chest. It covers the man's entire body up to his neck. His eyes are protected by black goggles.

The man slurps on a fountain drink before tossing it in the bin beside him. "Hey."

I stand and push my cape behind my shoulders. "Hey."

"Sorry I'm late. I stopped to refuel." The man says with a thick Slavic accent.

"I'm sorry, was I expecting you?" I ask. "Who are you?"

"Vladmir Zajic. My friends call me Prompt."

"That is unfortunate. Are you a local hero? I'm sorry, I'm not from around here." I say.

"I was sent by Colonel Gerald Stone to assist you. You're lucky I was here. And refueled."

If Gerald sent him, it means he works for a government agency known as DISA, or the Department of International & Supernatural Affairs. We share that in common.

My eye twitches. I feel it. While he is correct, I would rather not admit that to him. He seems cocky. He can't be older than twenty five. Something in his cerulean eyes rubs me the wrong way.

"Now that you're safe, I'm supposed to bring you to him. Unless you want to wait for the cops." Vladmir says.

"Lead the way, zippie."

I am surprised when he grabs me by the back of the neck. He tells me to brace myself as the world disappears in a blur of colors. I have never felt anything like it, even in the middle of a storm.