Resurrection [On Hiatus]

03 - He Will Suffer

Phobos stared in the glass that was almost empty. Her shoulders were hanging, her eyelids felt heavy. Dysphoria was pushing her down for days, actually since the minute the euphoria of their escape had drifted away. 

The not-knowing had never felt so heavy. 

Her world had been small the past years. Everything had been decided for her: what she was eating, how late she was eating, how her day was planned. Now, freedom was overwhelming her and she didn't know what to do. The first days they'd laughed, pulled little pranks with their powers, making sure they didn't lack anything. 

But now she felt hollow. Every time she saw girls whisper to each other, she felt a jolt of pain in her stomach. Had there been friends with whom she was watching boys? Had she ever been in love? Had she kissed someone before Morpheus? 

She moved her glance to the window and looked outside. It was windy. A mother walked by with her two children pressed to her sides. Again a vibration went through her chest. Where did her parents believe she'd gone to?

Questions like these were torturing her endlessly. She was continuously confronted by the gaps in her memory, by the fact she didn't know who she was. 

Phobos was just a code name. It didn't mean anything. 

She didn't mean anything, to anyone but the three people who sat around this table. And they felt just as lost as she did. She could see it in their eyes, hear it in their voices. Their lives lacked a goal, except for finding out who they'd been and who'd done this to them. But they couldn't just go to the authorities and ask for help. None of them trusted anyone outside their small group. 

"In Harlem someone like us is killed." It was Athena's low, somewhat hoarse voice which attracted her attention. She turned around the folded newspaper so they could see the article. 

Phobos scanned the text. She froze on the inside when she read about the bulletproof Luke Cage who'd committed himself to fight crime in Harlem. Was he killed because his powers made him a freak or did the local gangs just hated his interference? 

She looked up to Erebus to see what he was thinking. As if it was smoke, a black glow spread over his blue irises, a sign he was angry. 

"It takes a lot to kill a bulletproof man," he muttered. "Maybe we should go to Harlem, find out who's behind this. There's a chance it isn't just a gang, but someone who's targeting our kind and knows how to find the perfect bullet for an impenetrable skin."

In silence Phobos looked him in the eye, even though she'd already made her decision. 

She craved for a goal in her life, for something to focus on. Tracking and taking down a murderer sounded as meaningful pastime.

"Okay," she decided. "We'll go to Harlem. Let's see if his murderer has ties to whoever has locked us up for years."

. . .

A few days later they entered Harlem's Paradise. On the street there were whispers telling them one Shades was behind the murder of Luke Cage, but there hadn't been enough evidence for the police to make him pay. 

Phobos looked around in the atmospheric nightclub, that was cloaked in a blue and purple glow. On a stage a threesome was playing soul music, making the audience dance. Erebus nudged her elbow and bowed toward her. 

"Up there on the gallery."

As low profil as she could, she looked up. A man was leaning on the railing with both hands, looking down. A confident grin was drawn on his face, his whole appearance breathed arrogance. His eyes were hidden behind sunglasses. Shades. 

It had to be him. No one else would wear shades on this time and place, other than to honor his name. Phobos swallowed. The thought that someone who'd recently killed a man others considered as a hero was looking around here as if he was a king, made her blood boil. 

"What a hypocritical asshole," she grunted. "One can see that even from here." Her eyes shot through the nightclub, looking for the stairs. "He will suffer."