Unity Carl Stubblefield (read book TXT) 📖

only one I’ve really ever been able to count on is myself. Especially when the tank is empty, and I have nothing left to give. The thought came to Gus about the sad state of most humans, that most people were running on empty tanks, expecting others to fill them up when, really, it was something people often have to do for themselves.

I’ve held a lot of resentment at those whom I felt should have taken it upon themselves to help out, whether it be my parents, the Crew, or even Nick. Relying on others, with all their own imperfections, and wondering why I keep getting disappointed that there’s no effort to meet my actual needs, and not what they think is best for me—or the least effort.

No epiphanies or even any warm fuzzies came as he stared at Mengele lying there. No one would know if he beat this monster right here, right now, and was consumed in the process. But compared to the pain he had endured in the last days, his desires of acceptance and camaraderie seemed small in scope.

I’m going to just keep on, doing the things I know I should. Constantly repeating the mantra: seek right action, not right results. I have to become someone else. Someone who is not affected by the lack of support. Someone who can be even more self-sufficient and overcome, despite all the people actively and passively trying to pull me down. And not get distracted by being disappointed or angry at those who are so caught up in their own lives that they aren’t able to lend a hand.

I’ve made it this far. I can make it the rest of the way. I’m sure when I get there, a lot of people will come out of the woodwork, like in Henny Penny, tapping themselves on the back that they were ‘so supportive.’ And I’ll let them believe that delusion. But I’ll be all the stronger for it, having had to improve myself to get what I need. To shore up my own belief system to create something of this broken, defective shamble I call my life. To work at the diamond in the rough that everyone passes over as worthless until it shines in majesty after it is cut and shaped.

I am not content lying underground, being unnoticed and of little use. If those closest to me can’t see me for who I am, I will shine brighter and brighter until I find my tribe. And nothing is going to stop me.

Gus took a step toward Mengele and the turrets shifted and targeted him. Gus activated Intermediate Shield and stepped forward purposefully. He grunted as multiple beams began striking the shield, causing resistance as he pressed forward. He leaned into it and pushed, watching the shield integrity sizzle down like a lit fuse.

I am just going to keep pushing myself until I feel better. Like when I get a cold, yet still have to work. Just power through the feelings of malaise and weariness. I will not lose momentum. I think this is where I hit the stumbling blocks with my goals. I get this storm of trials and then I hunker down in survival mode trying to make it through, and everything I built gets tossed around and destroyed. Habits broken, progress lost, and so on. From here on out, I am staying out in the storm. Progressing. Relentlessly. Even if it takes a while to achieve my aims, I will push through.

Gus crouched and powered through the resistance, pushing with powerful legs to move the shrinking bubble of the shield closer to his enemy.

Just because I don’t feel support from others, I won’t let that shape my behavior in supporting them. I made that promise to myself all those years ago when I was just a reg. The world needs this guy gone. And I will get it done!

The shield imploded and Gus felt multiple spots of intense heat, burning pokers pressed against his skin. Before he had met Mengele in person and been subject to his whims, he might have flinched away. Though the sheen of hybrid-Nth covering him rallied to deflect some of the energy, he still felt the white-hot beams bleed through and burn into him.

Mengele’s arm twitched and fingers crawled, pulling his arm toward the large opening door.

No you don’t!

Gus heaved and took a large step. It was like trying to wade into the ocean against the pounding surf, but he timed his movement to force himself to go on. Gus tried to absorb the energy but something about these beams refused to respond to the ability.

Mengele chuckled as he pushed with a leg, looking like a drunk frog scuttling on the ground. He cast a quick glance over his shoulder at Gus.

“Those beams will overcome you regardless of what ability you use against them, my poor boy. I’m afraid you’ll never reach me. I’m already regaining enough stamina to escape.”

“No!” Gus roared. The intensity only felt like it was increasing as he moved closer to the turrets, and they adjusted subtly to remain focused on him. Gus was forced to a knee and it took a massive effort to get back to his feet. He felt the strain from his shoulders to his heels as every muscle flexed to resist the pressure.

Meanwhile, Mengele was crawling ever quicker into the room beyond and was lost from sight, the bright beams and their energy spatter hiding him from view. Doubts of how he was going to fail again, like he always did, began to crawl into the fringes of his mind. Gus pressed forward in spite of them, his resolution crushing them like a hammer. He had been through hell. He could do this.

He reached a point where he could not move forward. He was being supported at an unnatural angle as he pushed and leaned and the beams pushed back. Pain increased, but touched a memory. He had been introduced to the thirty-one