Unity Carl Stubblefield (read book TXT) 📖

Chapter Seventy-Eight

Red Rain

Words began to resolve from an incoherent mumble to sharp focus. Mengele was muttering to himself.

“Was this a trick all along? There’s no way he could have reached this level that quickly. Two years to activate my base and this upstart manages it in one day? The master must be testing me…”

Gus’ eyes flew open as he snapped back to himself and he took in a large gasp. His throat felt coated and dusty like the inside of a heating duct. A coughing spasm overtook him, and he had to spit out a tarry, thick sputum. Secured as he was, it fell back against his chin and slid like a slug down the side of his neck.

From the corner of his eye he saw the glint of a scalpel. Tensing, he braced himself, feeling a flicker of red and a surge of power. There were a couple of snaps as red arcs crackled along his back and the metal table. Instead of the split-second delay where he felt nothing before the scalpel dug deep and pain burned, all Gus heard was a tiny *tink*.

Mengele growled and grabbed something else from the table by him. By the way it rasped against his skin, he knew it to be the bone saw. Instead of taking a bite into his tissue, it skidded and bounced along the top of his arm. A thrum that Gus hadn’t noticed was there in the background, revved up like an engine shifting gears. His back began to tingle a bit as the intensity of the sparks along his back and legs intensified. A ghostly mist formed at the edges of his field of vision, fading in and out of perception.

Mengele lunged for the IV and crushed a small white contraption on the tube that kept fluid falling into a small reservoir in measured drops. Milky liquid raced to his arm. Instead of the feeling of angry fire ants crawling through his veins, there was… nothing. Except the shifting of gears again as the thrum resonated at an even higher pitch.

Mengele rushed away, and Gus heard metal clanking. With desperation, his tormentor squeezed a large syringe into his IV bag, turning the white liquid a slight yellow color as it mixed and flowed.

The flicker in Gus’ vision began to happen more quickly, and he finally realized it for what it was—his display! He could see it again! As it became more solid, Gus felt the agitated red energy ripple over him like tiny bubbles. Defying gravity, they flowed upward to cover him completely. The red foamy wave flowed over his face and in between the tight clamps on his legs, arms, and head. Then they began to merge, becoming more transparent as the bubbles jiggled and joined.

Seeing his display come into focus, Gus tried to access his abilities, and they were there. Well, some of them were. Bound, Enhanced Strength, Intermediate Shielding, Shake, Shatter, and all of his Wreck skills were there. He was going to activate Intermediate Shielding, but it was already active, passively. Where his skin touched his restraints, he could discern a difference between this metal and the one the table was made of.

As the red energy infused him, it needed an outlet. Pouring his attention into his restraints, he felt their unique signature. They appeared as a wide sine wave. Funneling energy into the wave, he intuitively created a wave that mirrored the metal. As he pushed the energy out, the amplitude of the wave increased bit by bit, but its frequency remained the same. Knowing there was an outlet, energy began to flow with more force. His body trembled as it became the equivalent of a shotgunned drink.

Mengele continued to try to do something, but nothing was working. There was a brief flash of heat, and Gus turned to see a large laser pointed at him, its beam aimed at the left side of his chest. Around its target, the bubbles smoothed and became completely transparent with a crimson tinge. Once it clarified, the beam reflected off, scoring the ceiling with a deep burn until Mengele released the activator and pushed it to the side with a heave.

The restraints began to glow lightly with the strain. One restraint on his hand split with a loud *crack*! The free ends rattled against each other like machine-gun fire. One by one, the other restraints began to break. A side of the first restraint to break snapped free and flew toward Mengele’s face. He easily batted it away, but it sounded like a gong when his black arm connected with the chunk of metal. Shielding his eyes, he slowly moved forward as metal rattled and flew.

Gus’ joints popped as he heaved himself over and fell face-first on the ground. He still felt numb, his body covered in an insensate prickle. The energy that Gus felt on the table exploded into his body. His arms were clutched to his chest, right under his chin, and Gus vomited. Black ooze poured out of him, giving him creepy flashbacks of Methiochos’ tentacled body. His back arched as he forcefully expelled whatever toxic garbage was in his system.

Despite the traumatic nature of the experience, Gus immediately felt better. With a shriek, the operating table was pried up with a black hand and flung out of the way. Panting, Mengele picked up Gus like a naughty kitten, holding him by the back of the neck. With a sharp twist, he spun Gus to face him. There was a dimming of the power as Gus lost contact with the floor, but long, thin arcs of scarlet energy occasionally jumped to make contact with the soles of his feet.

Muscles bulged on Mengele’s forearm, but they could not compress Gus’ neck. Veins popped out on Mengele’s neck and forehead as he tried with all his might to crush Gus’ windpipe, but to no avail.

Woodenly, Gus reached up and grabbed the arm holding him. He could feel the same red