They Call Me Daring

Chapter 14

"Man, that's a bad way to get a tan." I heard the snarky voice, and sat up straight in my bed. How long had I been out?
"What are you doing in my room!" I exclaimed, blinking in the harsh light. How had I fallen asleep with all that? Then I remembered I was only wearing boxers, and I dove under my blankets.
"I came to make sure you hadn't run away in the night." Meg replied drily. "You never can tell."
"Yeah, but this is my room." I poked my head out from under the covers at the foot of the bed. "You can't just barge in here like that! Why did my family even let you in!?" I frowned, listening, but I failed to hear any sounds of the usual morning bustle from below.
"They didn't." She paused, her hand resting on the doorknob. "I let myself in. They're out front trying to keep down the mob."
"What mo-" I spun and stared, dumbfounded, out the window, down at the complaining, milling mob on my front door step.
"Get down!" Meg's hand found my shoulder and forced me down to the ground. I opened my mouth to ask what she meant, then remembered my mask was off. Right.
"Put your mask on and get down there!"
"Why?" I blinked, still half-asleep.
She glared at me in disbelief. "Because they're waiting for you."
She swung out of the room, shutting the door behind her, and then last night's events came back to me, hitting me like a physical blow.
Right. I promised my own house to them all as refuge. And they didn't even know who I was... I would have to come up with a good excuse for being in the Trackerson Mansion.
And soon, I thought, glancing out the window again at the milling crowd, who was beginning to force against the gate.
I grabbed jeans and a dark green T-shirt, not bothering with my sweatshirt; The sunlight would help keep me awake, drive away the monster.
I changed in the bathroom, not wanting to expose myself in front of the open window in my bedroom, and too cautious to draw attention by closing it.
It was at the last minute I remembered to slink back into my bedroom and grab the paper bag off the ground from where I threw it last night. I glanced in the mirror quickly, and sighed with relief when the light caught the green in my eyes. My white hair fell over one eye, blindingly white, and my freckles stood out eerily on alabaster skin. Quickly, I slid the bag over my face, and took a deep breath.
The Lost Soldier was back.
I slunk down the hallway, slipped down the banister with ease, and trotted out the front door, where the full, harsh white blast of the sunlight hit me like a bucket of hot water.
I froze in place for a moment, blinking away the tears that came impulsively, and reminded myself half the pain didn't even exist. It faded after a moment, and I realized people were screaming for me.
"YO!" I held up my arms in the 'timeout' sign, and silence fell at once, and every eye was on me. My father and Clark, who had been making the rounds inside the wall, trying to prevent people from climbing over, turned to face me with arms crossed and unhappy faces. Jess made truck noises in the dirt and crashed his toy plane.
I realized I didn't know what to say, so to buy time, I took a running start, fighting over the sluggishness that came over me with the sunlight. At the last minute it occurred to me that, given how my muscles felt so restricted in the light, I might not be able to clear the jump. But I shook the doubt aside, because doubt is what stops progress.
I leapt off the ground, reveling in the feeling as every muscle in my body, though slower than they should have been, straining against invisible bonds, responded in sequence, felt my toes flex and my calves tighten as I launched myself off the ground, and a moment later the impact running up my spine when I landed heavily, seven feet up, on the top of the wall.
"Good morning!" I shouted, my brain spinning as I tried to come up with a logical response to the situation. A couple of people murmured reluctant 'good morning's back at me; most just glared at me like they were wondering how much force it would take to push me over backwards.
"Yeah," I went to run a hand nervously through my hair, then remembered the bag. "Um, what are you... doing here?"
"We've come where you told us to!" Somebody shouted.
"Oh, right.... Aren't there an awful lot of you?" I bit my lip, doing a light-speed head sweep in my mind, estimating around two hundred. "I mean, this is the smaller of the three strongholds... I was thinking more like a hundred of you, max."
"Where else are we supposed to go?"
"What do you mean?" I asked, my voice losing some of it's ring in my own confusion. "The church and the apartments... That's what we decided, am I right?"
"The church is filled up!" Somebody offered. "'Bout two 'undred went in there 'dis mornin'! Mosta the supplies's in dere too!"
"What about the apartments, then?" I asked, doing the math in my head. The apartments could hold more than one hundred people, even if they would have to share rooms.
"They kicked us out!" Somebody cried.
"They said their rooms were full!"
"They left us for dead!"
"No, no, listen!" I poured coldness into my voice again as murmuring began to break out. "No, nobody's going to die. We just need to talk to them, I'm sure there's just been a misunderstanding-"
"Does this look like a misunderstanding!" Somebody cried, gesturing to the mob. "We told you! They left us out to die!"
"Nobody's going to die!" I shouted over the outbreaks of sobbing. Unless you make me angry, I thought. "Now listen!"
Silence.
"Okay, now," I began. "D-Mr. Trackerson!" I called out, barely catching myself. Dad looked up, slightly bemused.
"I need you to start letting people in, okay?" I asked. The moment the words left my mouth, the mob surged forward against the old gate, which screamed under the weight. "No, no, NO!" I roared, my voice ragged and piercing. "One. At. A. Time. Okay?" I forced a smile, talking through gritted teeth. "Mr. Trackerson and C- his son-" I heard every girl in the mob squeal in delight. "Will let you guys in slowly, right?"
Noise began to build again, and I leapt back down into the front lawn. I leaned in close to Dad.
"Individuals first, families later, K?" I murmured. "Assign rooms, try to fit as many as possible in each room, but don't overdo it. I'm gonna go talk to the people at the apartments."
"Wait, Liam-" Dad put his hand on my shoulder, but jerked it back quickly at the cold of my skin.
"That's another thing," I said grimly. "They can't know who I am. Got it?"
"But why the mask?" He called after me as I took off running.
"Just let them in!" I called back, hurtling up and over the wall, soaring over a thinning area of the crowd, hitting the ground running and never stopping.
I heard cries of surprise behind me, but ignored them, concentrating on the beating of my feet against the pavement, and on pushing them to go faster.
If they knew who their Lost Soldier really was... No, I couldn't let that happen. They would lose any faith they had in me immediately, when they found out their savior was really just some loser teenage dude.
I hurtled around the corner at top speed- well, top speed during the day, anyway. I was barely breathing at all, much less panting. Sweat was moist on the back of my neck, where my skin was exposed to the sun, but I couldn't work up a sweat from running.
I breathed the cold air in deeply, every scent becoming clear.  The paint on that fence was fresh. Somebody had spat out mint-flavored gum on the road back there. There was a tree in that yard, and I could tell it was maple because the natural scent of sap stung the air.
I shook my head, trying to drive the smells away, and kept running. My eyesight sharpened, my hearing tuned to pick up the snap of the flag and the rattle of spare metal sheets atop the Hannaford's, everything was tapered, sharpened to a piercing point... This would have been great, except that it wasn't.
I turned and trotted up the steps to the apartment, deftly disabling the securities on the door and swinging inside.
"Not you," Somebody growled.
"What?" I blinked, sun spots left on my eyes after the blinding day, and my eyes adjusted to the darkness. "What are you guys doing?"
"We're guarding our rightful boundaries!" Somebody else cried, and this was greeted by a general murmur of agreement.
There were about a dozen guys sitting in the darkness, leaning up against walls and slouching in cheap plastic lawn chairs or lounging on the ground. All of them were baring rifles, which were sighted at my chest.
"What rightful boundaries?" I asked. I heard the cock of a gun, and in the space of a heartbeat I had twisted around, swinging my leg through the air, and kicked the gun out of the man's hands. "Do. Not. Mess with me..." I growled viscously, baring my fangs behind my mask.
"Now tell me." I sauntered towards a guy in the middle whose upright posture suggested he was the leader. I got up in his face, trying to look as menacing as is possible with a paper bag over your head. "Why aren't you letting people in?"
"First off," The guy said, holding his ground and I pushed further towards him, willing him to back off. "This was never your place to give."
I snarled at him, a bloodcurdling, animalistic sound that tore through the air. He took a step back, fear alighting in his eyes.
"I-The Trackersons are giving their house up to protect people!"I tried to reason, but my voice refused to come out of the deep, terrifying pitch. "This is one of the biggest buildings in the downtown! The church is filled, and soon the mansion will be too! And there will still be a hundred people left on the streets to die, a bloody, brutal death, or join the zombie army that's already threatening us!" I roared in his face, and he backed up against the wall, true fear shining on his face. I could smell his terror.
"And you can't spare a few rooms?" I dropped my voice to barely above a whisper, yet everyone in the room could hear it.
Then it happened. The click of a safety unlocking, a rifle cocking, muffled so I shouldn't hear. But I did. I spun and, my aim flawless, my fist made contact with one man's face. He tumbled to the ground, knocked out cold.  Without pausing, I used my momentum and kicked my leg out behind me as I swung, knocking the other guy's knees out from under him. His gun clattered to the ground.
A click dead behind me, the sound of a rapidly pulsing heart and ragged breathing. I swung up off the ground, my legs hurtling backwards over my head in a backwards flip, kicking out at the last instant. My sneakers made contact with the heavy metal rifle and the leader cried out as it was ripped from his hands. I hit the ground and spun around, my fingers flying up to lock around his throat in a viselike grip.
Silence.
The leader's eyes searched mine, straining in vain against my grip. At last I felt him relax, and I pulled back, letting him cough and massage his throat as the others looked on in awed terror. Finally he croaked. "What are you?"
"Nobody of consequence." I grinned from beneath my mask. Before he could open his mouth again, I barreled on.
"Right. So you're going to fill up your rooms, every single one, as many people as you can fit comfortably. Got it?"
I didn't wait for an answer. Instead I swung towards the door without another word, letting it slam shut behind me. I broke back into a jog, blinking in the horribly blinding light after the sweet darkness.
I wondered if that little stunt had revealed too much... But no, they still didn't know who I was. For all they knew, I was just some random extremely fit and coordinated person... Which I wasn't, not really. But better they think that than the alternative.
The mob parted around me when I finally got back, maybe a little smaller than when I had left. They formed a path, staring silently at me as I sprinted down the path. When I reached the wall, I leapt up, grabbing a stray stone, and swung myself over the rest with ease.
"Nice entry." Clark grunted from the other side.
"I know." I replied, eyeing the gate. "Where's Dad?"
"Moving around supplies." Clark waved another person in, looking back worriedly at the house. "How'd it go?"
I shrugged. "I think I convinced them."
"Great. Why don't you draw their attention while I go check out the rooms, alright?" He said. "I don't know how many more we can fit, and if I had left before, they would all have come crashing in."
Wordlessly, I took the gate from him, waving somebody else in behind him.
"Who are you, really?" Some guy said from the other side of the gate, leaning in, trying to scare it out of me.
"Guess." I spat back.
"Tony?" He said immediately. I shook my head. He shut up and backed away.
"L-" Somebody said, then cut themselves off mid-sentence. "I mean, hi."
Meg bit her lip nervously, and I waved through a few more people without counting so she could move up in line. She was dragging Maggie along behind her, who coughed every now and then, but looked pretty okay.
"Hey." I said in greeting, trying to drive any recognition out of my voice. If it looked like I knew them, I didn't want everyone else pressuring them to spill.
I waved Maggie in, and leaned forward as Meg passed. "See you out front in an hour."
The corner of her mouth twitched in a barely perceptible smile, and then  she was gone. I stood waving people in, dodging questions about my identity, for a few more minutes, then my ears picked up the sound of Clark's footsteps.
"Well?" I looked up expectantly when he came up to me, waving in another person.
"Not many more." He warned. "Dad managed to move supplies around and empty out a few rooms but..." Clark shook his head. "The mansion's not built to hold that many people."
"I guess I'd better get up there and tell them the apartments are up for grabs, then." I took a deep breath, digging my hands deep in my pockets.
"Yeah, about that," Clark lowered his voice, squinting into my eyes like there was something hidden there that he just couldn't make out. "How do you jump up there?"
"I've.... Been working out...?" It was more of a question. I jammed the gate closed, and before people could argue, I had launched myself diagonally at the wall, wall-running horizontally for about ten feet, then grabbing the top of the wall and swinging myself up on top.
"Why'd you shut us out?" Somebody protested the moment my sneakers hit the stone.
"Yeah, you're abandoning us as well?"
"No, we're not abandoning you," I waved my hands wildly for emphasis. "We just can't fit any more!"
"So we stay out here and rot, then?"
"I'm sick of all this crap." Somebody near the foot of the wall called out. "I'm getting out of here. Let's just go home, people."
"NO!" I roared, my voice turning cold and vicious again, and silence rippled through the mob. "No, doing that will be like condemning yourselves. Trust me, it would be like locking yourselves in prison, isolating yourselves like that, and waiting for the zombies to come like dinner on a platter. No, that's a bad idea. Trust me."
"Why should we trust you?"
I blinked. Why should they trust me? In a few days I would be their enemy anyways... "Because..." I said slowly. "I'm the only leader you've got."
Nobody spoke. I took that as agreement, naturally.
"I've managed to, er, make an agreement with the rightful owners of the apartments, and they should be letting you in now." I called out, my voice unnaturally clear in the silent streets.
"And if they don't?" Somebody spat.
"Tell them the Lost Soldier will have to pay them another visit, should the occasion arise." I answered.
"But who are you, really?" Somebody cried out.
"More like what." Another corrected.
"I told you," I said nervously. "I'm the, uh, the Lost Soldier."
"Yeah, great name." I saw Cony down in the audience. Wonderful. I could only depend on my trust in Clark, and that he hadn't told every one of his friends just who the Lost Soldier really was. "For a movie."
"Where do you live?" Somebody demanded. "We can ransack his house! Maybe there's something in there!" I frowned at that one, disappointed that they thought I would fall for that.
"I can't tell you." I said, my voice pitifully weak and feeble.
"Oh, yeah?" It was Cony again. "Maybe we can make you tell us."
"Um, that wouldn't work." I said nervously, as, with a roar of agreement, a handle full of large dudes near the wall pulled out their hidden rifles and guns. Trust the survivors to carry hidden weapons to a refuge. "That's, uh, that's actually a really bad idea. And I'm, uh, I'm impervious to pain."
The guys with the guns blinked their piggy eyes stupidly.
"I can't feel pain." I explained kindly.
"Oh." They all nodded together.
"I disagree." One of them growled in a low, grinding voice, hefting his tomahawk over one shoulder. Why a tomahawk? "But you can come down here and make me believe I can't make you squeal."
A roar of approval rose from the crowd, and I swear every guy in the audience surged forwards, pressing up against the wall, flinging their arms up at my feet, trying to pull me off, knock me over. Nobody seemed willing to use their weapons on me, not yet, at least- Not until they knew for sure that I was, in face, very pervious to pain.
"Dude!" Clark called up in alarm, not knowing quite what was going on from down inside, the gate blocked by screaming barbarians. "You should get down from there!"
"Oi!" Somebody roared from the mix, and a disturbed quiet fell. "There's his partner! Maybe we can make 'im squeal!"
And the chanting rose up again, young boys jumping up on tip-toes to see what could be going on, wives shaking their heads in disapproval as their husbands took up the chant: "Beat the Lost Soldier, make him squeal!" Hairy, beefy arms scrabbled at the iron bars of the gate, now they had realized that Clark wasn't as big of a possible threat as I could be. It would have been almost justifying-ly ironic, watching the city turn against it's hero. Of course, big, manly, dumb middle-aged guys had never been Clark's fan club to begin with.
And any humor vanished with the audible cocking of a large machine gun, as one scarred and balding man took up position in the middle and aimed the barrel straight at my brother.
Clark's eyes widened when he realized how vulnerable he was, too far from the house to be able to make it to safety before the firing begun, too terrified and frozen with fear to turn his back. The man's finger hovered above the trigger, and he turned a smug eye on me. Seriously, eye. He had only one.
"Well, well," He croaked in a gravelly voice that set my nerves on edge more than my own did. "Looks like the Lost Soldier has a decision to make." He grinned a toothy, yellow grin. "You tell us who you are, or I pull the trigger, and your..." He searched for a word. "Partner, accomplice, whatever, he goes bang."
I glared at him through the eyeholes of my mask. This had gotten way too serious for the situation, way too fast. A simple guessing game had turned into possible man-slaughter within minutes- It had gone too far.
My brain spun, my mind playing through every possible scenario in a matter of milli-seconds. Most of them ended with Clark lying on the ground, bloody, unmoving, cold and dead. I nearly threw up at the thought.
"Well!" The man demanded, and I bit my lip, thinking so hard and fast it nearly hurt. The sunlight on my bare arms burned, but not as much as the terrible decision did. My identity? Once people knew who I was, they wouldn't follow me like they had been... They would fall back into chaos, and it would be the end of the humans, once and for all.
The hope of humanity?
Or Clark?
I grinned demonically beneath my mask, baring my fangs to nobody.
Or neither.
"Well!?" The man roared, and my head snapped around in his direction. "Have you made your decision? My arms are getting tired!"
"Great." I smiled, then realized nobody could see that, so without farther ado I launched myself off the wall. I flew through the air, unconsciously streamlining myself while airborne for max speed. Seconds before I hit him, the man's eyes widened, sparking with real fear. I hit him like a freight train, slamming him in the ground, where he lay, blinking dazedly and groaning.
My ears picked up the cocking of another gun, a barrel digging into my spine, and, reluctantly, I allowed my adrenaline to pick up to hyperdrive, my heart beating faster than humanly possible, my eyesight sharpening and my hearing becoming clearer, my muscles tensed and prepared to spring, every nerve on edge, my mind anticipating every movement and reaction seconds before it happened. I was a cornered beast, prepared to pounce any second.
Then the real fight began.
They pushed in around me all at once, a mix of BO and bad shampoo and beefy arms and loaded guns, poking at me from all directions. I felt the monster inside me squirming, straining against me to take over and tear them all effortlessly to pieces... But I took a deep breath and pushed back just as hard.
I wasn't going to tolerate the poking and prodding and jeering though.
I leapt up in a flash of hot fury. My brain worked in perfect timing with my muscles, anticipating every strike at the tensing of the opponents muscles, and time slowed down.
I didn't.
My hands darted in and out, a strategically placed punch knocking the wind out of someone, ripping a gun out of another's hands. I whirled and spun through the crowd, who now screamed the unpleasant's words back at me from all sides, bombarding me while trying to drown me out.
How had they turned so quickly on their own leader, I thought, as I plunged deeper into the throng. My fists flew, my muscles handling the bone-crunching impact of each punch like it was nothing, my adrenaline pumping. I was so alert it was almost painful, every sound magnified a million times, every angle sharp and threatening, the light seeming to grow brighter every second as I felt myself losing to the monster.
But I couldn't stop, or they would hurt me. It was an impossible battle, one that my body was winning, and Liam Trackerson was losing. I dodged every swing and poke and prod, every angry fist swung at my face, every boot swinging out clumsily at my legs, all of which I darted and dodged effortlessly through, barely panting or sweating.
Foolish humans. They fought like uncoordinated elephants, every punch thrown precious seconds too late, every swing of the tomahawk miles off target. Humans were reckless, dangerous beasts, prone to violence- And far too quick to jump up to bite the hand that feeds them.
Why had I even wanted to save them? I thought, plowing my way through like they were bowling pins. A hand reached out in front of my face, and my reflexes flung me to the ground as it swung over me in a wide arc, almost in slow-motion, fingers grasping too slow at the empty air. Sudden anger seized my body, unwarranted, and overpowering, turning my vision red and drowning out all noise but the blood pounding in my ears. My hand shot out and grabbed the man's wrist.
The fragile bones snapped like dry twigs as I clamped down harder, shattering like the delicate insects humans truly are. I felt grim pleasure as the bone crunched in my hand, the man's tortured cry of agony reaching my ears through the veil of anger. I twisted harder, grinning beneath the mask, and then, in a surge of fury, grabbed his whole arm and threw him far over my head hurtling into the crowd.
I whirled to face the next opponent, fists bared and ready, anger surging through my body. The crowd was silent, bunched around the sprawled figure of the thrown man, whose pathetic groaning barely reached my ears. They all stared dumbly down for a few dull moments, while I waited for their tiny minds to process it. Then, as one, they all raised their eyes to me.
"Don't tell me I didn't warn you." I growled, my voice low and torn like the snarl of a wild animal. My heart still beat fast deep in my chest, my adrenaline surging, my vision red and pulsing with the beating of my heart and the thrumming of my blood deafening in my ears.
And then they charged.
The fight was different, now; I knew this even before they had closed in around me. The set of their jaws, the newfound determination in their eyes- This was no longer a game, a simple dare gone wrong.
This was real.
And I knew this when the first knife was swung at my neck, that they weren't swinging to bruise and batter, to get me to reveal my identity. This was no longer a game of teasing blows and taunting jeers. They were going to kill me.
Or try.
I dodged the knife, fury screaming behind my eyes as I wondered who dare challenge me. I swung back around and brought my hand down in the crook of their arm. Hard. The arm folded, their shoulder dropped, I darted in at the moment of weakness and gripped the shoulder joint between my hand and fingers.
Twist.
The shoulder snapped like a chip, rolling, and the person's cry drowned by the pounding of rage in my head. The shoulder was dislocated, but I continued to twist, harder, until their eyes rolled into their head and they slumped to the ground.
All this happened in under a second.
I felt a jab in my back, a hard elbow, and I spun to grab the arm, twisting their entire upper body forward and swinging my leg up and bringing it cracking down on their back. They fell.
Cries of outrage sprung to life about me, but now the world was just a whirl of flashing red and angry faces, of glittering knives and heavy guns, of people trying to kill me.
And then the first shot was fired.
It came screaming past me, so close it brushed my ear. Unlike the human blows and swings, bullets were deadly accurate. My nerves kicked into overdrive, every sense in my body activated and spinning.
It was exhilarating.
I dove beneath the next bullet, rolling through the crowd and leaping up behind the shooter. My foot kicked behind his knee, my knee striking his back, he crumpled. Another bullet.
I heard the sound, and ducked, knowing the bullet would be closer already. I gripped the ground and swung out my legs, knocking another shooter's legs out from under them.
More bullets, from every direction. Machine guns began to fire, as more and more people picked up the memo- I wasn't playing anymore. Holes dotted the crowd where people were knelt on the ground dealing with the weaklings who had fallen. I laughed at their foolishness, dodging another swing, mercilessly grabbing the attacker's arm, tensing my shoulder to rip it off. They never learn.
And then there was the click. I heard to too late, turned too slow, my mind distracted in my own glory. I knew the bullet would hit me before I felt the pain.
Every nerve in my body burned with pain too intense to handle, as the bullet tore into my shoulder. I gritted my teeth, doubling over. Heightened senses could be a blessing; and a curse.
"We got him!" Somebody shouted. I blinked, the redness fading from my eyes. Cries of triumph pierced my mind, breaking through the throbbing sound in my ears, which began to fade, as the world became clearer, more real.
The biting pain drove away the sharpness of everything, the brightness and the anger. Mostly the anger. That unprecedented rage, the uncontrollable fury which made me hate the humans... Made me want to hurt them... It dissipated as quickly as it had come, driven away by the pain.
I blinked, and as my head cleared, the world whirling around me, everything came back to me at once. I breathed deeply, the sound close and real inside my mask. My mask... That was how this had all started.
I straightened, taking it in, ignoring the pounding in my shoulder. My eyes fell on the people spread eagle on the ground, their limbs twisted in ways that weren't right. They moaned, twitched, sobbed in pain- Some didn't move at all.
With a terrible realization, I realized I had done this. I had given away to the monster... and this was what happened. I closed my eyes inside the mask, almost unable to believe I could have hurt so many people... That I could have given up this easily. I had fought, alright. And I had lost.
I needed to get away. It wasn't safe for me to be around people any more. Meg... Meg had been wrong. I couldn't drive it away. There was no cure, nor would there ever be. I was dangerous, I had hurt- maybe even killed!- people! I couldn't live here anymore, I needed to run, to retreat into the shadows, to-
Click.
I swallowed, raising my hands up on either side of my head in surrender, and slowly turning on the spot to face the gun pressed right on my chest.
"Don't. Move." The Doc said slowly. My heart skittered. Hair wild and crazy as ever, glasses askew as usual, eyes fierce and more determined and cold than I had ever seen them, it was the Doc. Of all people... I bit my lip inside my mask. He was one of the only people who knew me who didn't know who it was behind the mask.
I didn't dare speak, barely dared to move. An unbearable sadness hit me, and I looked up over the Doc, all the way across the street and at the mansion walls, where I could just see Clark pressed against the gate. Even from here, I could make out the horror on his face. Then his eyes landed on me, along with those of the other hundred or so people who stood in the street, glaring coldly up at me. I saw the cold realization hit him even from that distance.
I was the traitor. Sure, the man who had threatened to shoot Clark had gone too far... But how was I sure he would have actually done it? And even if tackling him had been necessary, what about the dozen other people lying on the ground, injured because of me? Sure, they had taunted me... But people were naturally curious. You give them an unidentified person with a bag over his head, even if he tries to lead them, they're going to wonder who they're following. Which is part of the reason they're still alive. That sense of doubt, of suspicion- 100% human....
"Somebody, find a crate or something!" The Doc ordered, and people jostled around, scavenging through nearby old shops for something to display me on, shooting me looks of hatred and distrust, like I was a trained animal escaped from a cage, gone berserk.
I hadn't needed to charge them. I had wanted to, though... I had felt I needed to prove something to them all... Even if they didn't know who the man beneath the mask was, personally I felt like they always had been doubting me, openly voicing their opinions and their thoughts.
"On the crate." The Doc commanded in that same low voice, torn with something deep inside. Betrayal. I was supposed to be the savior- Only they had pushed too far. I was the good leader torn apart to reveal something terrible hidden deep inside.
Only maybe not so deep.
I felt a sharp jab in my back, and reluctantly stepped up onto the block, stumbling in the harsh reality, rising head and shoulders above most other people in the audience. I blinked in the light of the cold washed-out day, the silent streets, the hurting eyes.
I suddenly felt dizzy, and only just prevented myself from toppling off the crate. Every eye was glued on me, just like when I had stood up at the church- Only worse, because now they were scared of me.
Scared of me.
"Do you have anything to say in your defense?" The Doc said behind me, and this time I picked up the waver in his voice, the shaking of the gun held to my back. I could easily have ripped his arms off and charged off into the outskirts without further ado; the only thing that had stopped me before was the bullet in my arm, not because it crippled me, but because it brought me back to my senses. It was me now, that was what had stopped me. But of course they didn't know it hadn't been me out there.
Not really.
"Do you still want to know who I am?" I said simply, my voice ringing out clear across the empty air. People shuffled closer, their fear evident on their faces, their expressions as easy to read as an open book. They glared intensely up at me, hardly daring to breath, never speaking, pouring unlimited hatred into their gazes.
If looks could kill... I probably wouldn't be dead even then, considering.
I could see it on their faces. They were unsure, suspicious but scared. They were scared that the mask would be pulled off to reveal a friend or family member, one that was dangerous and insecure and had hid a dark secret for a long, long time.
"You've left us no choice." The doctor said through gritted teeth, and I felt the fingertips brush the paper bag.
My heart skipped, my mind spinning through hundreds of scenarios all at once and then overloading, and suddenly everything was blank and silent, and all I could see was Clark's face behind the gate across the street, slowly shaking his head in disappointment at me.
Disappointment.
Even now, I was still disappointing people. Better they just get it over with and kill me now, before I had a chance to let anybody else down.
I closed my eyes.
And the mask was whipped off.