Destined: 2 Be Continued

10. Silas Fitch

Silas looked at the back of his menu. He was sitting at the outside portion of a restaurant in Italy. There was nothing that he was really craving, except for maybe the chicken-fried steak. He loved both chicken and steak, and he had never had one of those before. Perhaps he could try one of those.

He heard a sound from in front of him. Someone had stepped close to his table, which was impossible--Jali, his only human friend, couldn't meet him in person. Silas looked up to see a man dressed in entirely black, not a smidgen of skin showing. It was weird dress for someone in the middle of Italy in July. "Give us what you've stolen, Castle," the man growled. Silas looked up calmly and took off his sunglasses.

"I didn't steal anything," he protested. "I earned it fair and square, and I'm keeping it."

"Give us the Impervium!" the man shouted. Silas sighed, then stood up. He had a messenger bag sitting to his right. In there were three jars of Awakened Impervium that he had managed to pinch from TG three weeks ago. Apparently, the mysterious initialed man had sent his lackeys to come and grab it. With a flick of the wrist, lightning shot from Silas' fingers and electrocuted the man that had been standing in front of him. Silas rarely attacked people, but he made an exception for TG's lackeys and children's show mascots.

As soon as Silas took down the man in front of him, three more appeared, trying to surround him. The other people at the restaurant saw what was up and left. "Now it's just me and you guys," Silas muttered to them. He wanted to shoot lightning at them, too, but he also wanted variety in his attacking. Instead, he decided to whisk his arm across his vision. A wave of wind blew from the arc his hand made, spreading out and knocking the man back and onto their backsides.

The men leaped to their feet and pulled out guns--submachine guns, Silas' personal favorites. They opened fire, but Wind cooperated with Silas and protected him with a wind shield. "Thanks, Wind," Silas muttered to his unreal friend. The men grunted in frustration, then changed magazines. Clearly, they were determined to defeat Silas and take the Awakened Impervium he had rightfully claimed for himself.

"Give it up, or we'll sic our Harbinger on you." A Harbinger was the affectionate name that TG and his lackeys gave to corrupted Destined. Silas had been a Harbinger once--it had been one of his least favorite experiences, along with that one time he had a foot massage. 

"Go ahead, Harbinger me," Silas challenged, wanting something interesting to happen. He wasn't going to have a normal day--so far, the weirdest thing had been why they had chicken-fried steak at an actual Italian restaurant. The man in the middle grunted, then made a beckoning motion. A woman stepped into view, wearing gold-rimmed sunglasses that were tinted purple. She wore a trench coat that Silas grudgingly admitted he envied, and purple boots to go with. "I know your every move," she boasted.

"Okay," Silas muttered, then whipped his right arm. A blade of wind shot from the arc he made and sliced the woman in half. Silas looked away when the air blade made contact, then looked back at the men. They looked between each other, debating whether or not to run from Silas. Silas had to agree with their trepidation--he was truly a psychopath. Well, if by "psychopath," one meant "very powerful young man who enjoys the sight of miserably groomed poodles," that is.

Silas decided to take it easy on the men and rode lightning--Silas' favorite thing to do. It was a strange thing to describe. One simply turned into lightning and went rocketing off in whatever direction they pleased. It was useful if one wanted to reach a location by way of how the crow flies, but was hilariously inconvenient if one wanted to be normal. At all. Riding lightning was a difficult thing to master, and before you mastered it, it often happened at random.

Fortunately for Silas, of course, had had mastered riding lightning. He struck the man on the left, then rode through the other two. They simply fell to the ground--for some reason, they weren't affected by the force of a lightning-fast punch. Silas rubbed his knuckles--he wasn't that good at punching, even at lightning speed. He had always been meaning to practice, but he never remembered. He never remembered anything, except for Jali's name and the fact that he loved protein.

"Well, at least I haven't been captured, right?" Silas asked Wind, walking away from the restaurant. The people noticed that the fight had been ended and began repopulating the area. Silas remembered the men's dead bodies and picked them up. Not knowing what to do with them, he threw them into the water, hoping that he wouldn't regret it.

"Say, young man," someone asked. Silas slowly turned around. He had had a bad experience with people calling him "young man," mostly involving children's show mascots, foot massages, and fat-free yogurt. Sometimes, it was all three.

"Say, yes?" he asked trepidatiously. There was a woman standing behind him--a suspicious woman. She spoke suspiciously, walked suspiciously, and dressed suspiciously. Silas was a bit concerned about how suspicious she was.

"You wouldn't happen to be able to turn back around for a moment, would you?" she asked. Silas shook his head, but the woman turned him around anyway. The next thing Silas knew, a hood had been thrown over his head.

"You know, this is really conspicuous!" Silas told whoever was manhandling him--or womanhandling him. 

"No one ever notices anything, don't you know?" the woman who had been suspicious responded. "Plus, anyone who tries to stop me will get killed. I'm a Harbinger, you know." Silas sighed at the word "Harbinger." It was sad, really, how many people had been turned to Harbingers. Almost as sad as a children's show mascot trying to do a foot massage.

"Inhale or die." Silas was already going to inhale, so he obeyed. A gas flowed in through the pores in his hood, and before he knew it, he was asleep.