The Dawn of Destruction, Chapter Three (clean)

                The Dawn of Destruction

Interitus 1 – Book One

            Chapter Three

            “Outside the principal’s office again?! What did you two do this time?” Iris asked.

            Iris tried to maintain the face of a mother scolding a child, but she ultimately failed to stifle her gentle giggling. Phil kept his arms crossed and looked away, but his eyes were hidden anyway by the hood of his jacket.

            “Hey, don’t ask me! I’m just keeping the truant company! It’s way too early to let my bro’s day get ruined,” Seth said with a slight chuckle.

            “I figured it was Phil! Not that that excuses you skipping History,” she teased.

            “That punk-ass English teacher reported me for skippin’ his boring-ass class like ten times this semester, but it ain’t my fault! He tellin’ everyone that I’m jus’ some hoodlum cuttin’ class and getting into trouble and shit, but that ain’t true! I keep goin’ to the university and sittin’ in on them engineering courses, man. Tryin’ real hard to learn all these second moments of area and shit, but they all hard as hell. Always tryin’ to make my ass look like a troublemaker, it’s a damn shame,” Phil complained.

            “You don’t have to tell me! I believe you, Phil, but you’re gonna have a really hard time convincing Mr. Jacobson! He once gave me detention for doing push-ups in the hallway,” Seth said.

            “Oh I got all the proof I need right here in this bag.”

            Phil unzipped his backpack and extracted several pages, revealing various shapes and a tremendous amount of math written in mechanical pencil. Iris stared at the page like it was written in a foreign language. Even Seth, who was struggling his way through Calculus at this time, could barely recognize any of the symbols.

            “Well good! And if he does still punish you, make sure it’s not for too long, because I want to see both of you out there winning that track meet tonight! I’ve gotta get some good pictures for the school paper, and they’re tired of only seeing Seth!” Iris said with a laugh.

            “Oh don’t you worry ‘bout that, I’mma be there tonight. That old-ass dude can give me all the detention he wants, I’m still gon’ be out there!”

            “Good! Look for me in the stands, guys,” Iris said with her friendly smile.

            And later that day, when Seth’s school and their opponents gathered for the track meet, Seth glanced back over to the stands and immediately recognized his friend in the crowd. Her face stuck out from the dozens of people packed closely around her.

***

            “I found you so easily that day… like my eyes were drawn straight to you. I just wish I could find you now,” Seth whispered in a quiet voice.

            Seth lifted his gaze from the gray floor and glanced around to make sure that no one had heard him. It was the middle of the afternoon, but the other attendees at the funeral seemed only half-awake, or at least they were not noticeably attentive. Many gazed at the casket with teary eyes, but some looked like they had no idea where they were. Seth glanced up to the pastor who slowly approached the podium.

            “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today on this mid-September morning to celebrate the life and mourn the passing of Erica Smith. Many among you know her as a beloved daughter and mother, always putting others before herself…” the pastor began.

The pastor trailed on for many dull minutes, preaching customary and generic words about the passing of Iris’ mother. Seth knew that the pastor was not at fault that this bland oration. The only clues he had to work with were the unclear memories of Iris’ decrepit grandparents, who somehow financed this event despite their health and mental state.

Seth always found Iris’ mother to be relatively antisocial, and only two dozen people had even attended. Family and friends made up most of the congregation, and tragically, even Iris was absent from her own mother’s funeral. Her grandfather stared toward the casket with drool unconsciously dripping down his cheek. His wife quickly caught notice of this; she dabbed vigorously at his mouth with a handkerchief.

“Please, Ernest, try to put on appearances for once in your life at least. I don’t know why all these kind people are here, but they want to listen to the show! They do not want to watch your drivel spew!” she nagged quietly.

            “Hush, Lucinda. No one is watching my mouth; they’re just distracted by your pestering!” he whispered loudly.

Ironically, this distracted most of the congregation from the only attempt at a eulogy.

            “Well then, they should just mind their own business!” the elderly woman retorted.

Seth noticed that Iris’ grandmother glanced intermittently around the room in search of an uncertain attendant. They were probably looking for Iris. They probably were not aware of this in their present state, but Iris would often devote more time than anyone else to checking up on her grandparents. However, no one besides Seth knew her fate. Even Phil had not yet heard the truth of her disappearance. And although Phil was typically a pleasant and hysterical person, instantly lightening the mood anywhere he went, he currently stared ahead at the altar with his hands folded beneath his chin; he understood the gravity of this event and the shockwaves that it sent through the lives of his closest friends. Even in the funeral setting, Phil wore his usual outfit of a dark gray jacket and a pair of unrestrictive pants.

            The reception was bountiful. Teary-eyed people and weepers both wandered to the hors d’oeuvres and suppressed their sorrow with abundant eating. Among the small crowd, both close friends and distant acquaintances frequented the parents of Iris’ late mother. Seth listened to the visitors give their dull condolences. Some wished them luck in the fight against Alzheimer’s; some prayed that they could overcome the grief of outliving a child. Nevertheless, Seth could not defeat the guilt as it devoured him. He rushed out of the building without saying anything to anyone. After all, he did not believe that he could handle the act of confession without completely falling apart.

The outside was barely more uplifting; the only difference was the warm breeze which swept through the streets. The wispy clouds in the sky looked gray and menacing. They proclaimed to the city that they would usher in a storm within an hour or two, even though the weather felt mild for a moment.

            A vacant alley sat beside the funeral home. An empty bottle leaned against the wall of the adjacent building. Seth slowly approached the bottle because he felt a connection to it; it was as hollow physically as he was emotionally. As he held it in his right hand, he tried to let the world around him disappear, but the firmness of the bottle in his hand reminded him that he could not escape the dark reality. Seth then closed his eyes. A strong, radiant light shone through his eyelids, and then the bottle disappeared altogether. Although frightened, Seth lifted his head and inspected for witnesses. There was only one; Phil stared wide-eyed at him from the mouth of the alley.

            “What the hell was that, man? You jus’ did some magic shit up in here!”

            Seth quickly wiped the tears from his eyes. He glanced up and saw a look of shock on his friend’s face, but he could not suppress his own ambivalence. Seth did not feel ready for anyone else to know about the strange power he was cursed with, but if he were to tell anyone, he knew it had to be Phil.

            “Look man, I don’t know what that weird purple shit was jus’ now, but I been all kinds of worried for you.”

            “Let’s take a walk. I promise I’ll explain everything,” Seth said.

The coast was only a few blocks away. After stopping by a porta-potty so Seth could change his clothes, the two friends walked to the coast in silence. When they arrived, they began walking north with no particular destination. The waves came and went again and again, reflecting the fading sunlight with every iteration. The rocky shores and cliffs inherited the gray persuasion of the sky, while a woman splashed around in the waves with her son. Still walking in silence, Phil focused his gaze on her body; he made no attempt to hide his captivation by her voluptuous figure and skimpy swimwear.

            “God damn, Seth, you see that?! Don’t see somethin’ like that every day, damn!”

Though Phil grinned widely as he made a quiet ruckus over the woman, he continuously glanced at Seth, searching for a sign that he broke through his friend’s sadness. Seth knew this, and so he was not surprised by his friend’s outburst—especially since he knew Phil would say something when he first saw the woman on the beach.

            “Well… about what you saw in the alley, uh, something really weird’s been going on. See, a few nights ago, I saw a meteor or something slam into the beach near my house. I walked up and grabbed it, but the whole thing went crazy. Like even if you felt it, you wouldn’t believe it. I felt disconnected; separated from the sand, the world, from reality itself! It was some crazy shit. But ever since then…” Seth said, pausing as he tried to keep it together.

            Phil waited a dozen seconds before an impatient glare appeared on his face. He then complained, “Out with it, man, I don’t got all day! I swear, man, a thousand children in poor-ass countries starve waitin’ on yo slow-ass to tell a damn story.”

            Seth looked toward the city and came to a gradual stop. A layer of darkening clouds unleashed a small rumble.

“Let’s head back to the city, I want to get home before the storm gets us,” Seth said.

            Phil nodded, so the two friends turned to walk back. The ocean breeze intensified, but it did not defeat the temporary silence. After taking a deep breath, Seth muttered, “So… I know what happened to Iris.”

Seth immediately regretted his impending confession, but he gloomily continued, “She came to my house a few hours after I touched that crazy meteor. She just learned her mom died, so she was… really distraught. She was falling apart, man. And if that weren’t bad enough, something happened when I held her. Something evil. Her body was just…. deleted from existence. It was like she got Destroyed without a single trace.”

            Phil looked dumbfounded as he stared straight ahead.

            “Are you yankin’ my chain? That shit ain’t even possible, man, that shit go against physics! Antoine Lavoisier himself once said shit cannot be created and shit cannot be destroyed, so she ain’t really gone. Shit don’t disappear without a trace!” Phil shouted.

            Despite Phil’s incredulous words, Seth knew that Phil completely believed him whether it defied physics or not. Seth sighed and said, “Well, first of all, I don’t know who that is… and I don’t think that’s the right quote, either. But I know what ya mean. But man, I promise you that this did happen.”

            Seth wished that he could just collapse into the sand and let the waves wash away his guilt, but he knew it would not change anything. Phil was the only thing in all the world that did not feel like crushing darkness.

            “It also happened just now, in that alley. I guess I can Destroy anything I touch. I can’t control it; I don’t even know how I’m doing it. And even worse, I’m responsible for killing Iris. She’s gone, and that’s it. There’s no undoing that. And with everything that happened that night, well… she died feeling absolute misery and nothing else. She died in my arms, sadder than she ever was in her whole life. How can I possibly live with this?” Seth asked.

            Even though Phil could feel himself internally unravel at the pain of losing Iris, he knew that he had to be strong for his best friend. Phil was far from blind. While he often struggled in social situations, and sometimes eloquence had a way of escaping his grasp, he always knew what mattered most. And at this moment, it was more important to be there for Seth than to confront his own sadness. Phil abruptly stopped moving, and Seth staggered to a stop a moment later. Phil reached over to give his friend a swift but strong embrace. It did not concern him that he could get Destroyed just like Iris; it did not bother him that he could be suddenly erased from existence altogether. The only thing that mattered was cheering up his best friend.

 “We’re like brothers, man. Never forget,” Phil told him.

Seth was surprised by Phil’s act of kindness, and he speechlessly began walking from the shore to the city. He tried to stammer out some thankful words, but he stopped himself before he could break out into a full sob.

Conversation ended with a friendly but firm handshake. As the afternoon sky surrendered to evening, lightning flashed in the distant clouds. Nearby buildings penetrated the sky, and though they could not touch the clouds, they transformed the city streets into wind tunnels. An abrupt lightning bolt shot down from the storm clouds, causing an uproar from the people in the streets. People rushed from the sidewalks into stores or cars, but Phil and Seth walked nonchalantly along the street.

 “Rich people,” Phil said with a laugh, watching people dash to flee the storm.

And just like that, laughter overwhelmed Seth. Phil’s wayward comment pierced through his emotional turmoil, like one last straw breaking a camel’s back. Perhaps it was the bleak atmosphere which had devoured him for days; perhaps it was a confused release of bottled-up sorrow emerging in another form. But nevertheless, Seth could not restrain himself from this sudden expulsion. The few people who remained on the sidewalks now gazed at Seth with an amused stare. Phil grinned widely at the spectacle he had caused.

 “Maaaan, you so loud, shut yo ass up. Now you got all these nice folks starin’ at us like we just got outta jail,” Phil laughed.

            Because he was so entertained by Seth’s laughter, Phil took substantially longer than usual to notice the woman who slowly walked toward them. However, when he finally did notice her, his jaw nearly unhinged. Seth followed Phil’s line of sight to a young woman approaching from half a block away.

            “Damn, Seth, this must be the finest hoe I ever seen in my entire life,” Phil whispered.

            And although Seth could usually suppress his instinctive attractions, he felt almost mesmerized by her appearance alone. As she stepped forward with each stride, her long black hair flowed behind her in the wind. Every step sent gentle tremors through her large chest, which could be clearly seen since her thin shirt was pressed by the wind. Because her gray shirt had no sleeves, her small but toned arms were out on clear display. She rested her left hand in the pocket of her blue jeans, but her right hand dangled at her side with her fingers peculiarly pressed together. It almost looked like she was prepared to do a karate chop.

Though he tried to look away, striving to fight his natural desire to gaze at this beautiful woman for as long as possible, Seth could not help but stay motionless—effectively transfixed. Her face had sharp features and a small nose. Her pink lips glistened in the flash of distant lightning. Though the wind blew her hair out of control, she looked like the most beautiful woman.

            Phil made another pedestrian comment which shook Seth back into reality. Seth averted his eyes strategically, since he had no desire to look like a desperate pervert. Phil shook his head and muttered incoherently until the woman stood directly before them. Seth did not yet know that she would soon become the most important woman in his life. He did not yet know that she was the vessel of Creation, Naomi Ohayashi.

            “You… you are Destruction,” she whispered, surprising Seth that such a gorgeous woman would speak to him at all.

            “Girl, I can be whatever you want!” Phil said.

            Unconcerned with the man she deemed meaningless, Naomi maintained her firm but ambiguous gaze. Seth asked, “Who are you?”

Seth was taken by concern instead of lust as he realized the gravity of her statement. The woman chuckled melodically and turned to face eastward.

 “Seth Freeman, I think you and I will be seeing a lot of each other in the coming days,” she admonished as she slowly walked away.

            “Man, Seth, how come you always be gettin’ bitches?” Phil asked in the background, but Naomi dismissed his words as she walked away from the two friends.

***

            Even from a very young age, before she was aware of herself or what she would become, Naomi always had a fascination with carnage. And though she tried to fight that truth for a long time, she always found pleasure from playing with her prey. Once, over twelve years prior, a wounded raccoon had found its way into her backyard beneath the swing set. It was weak and helpless, but young Naomi saw it as the perfect opportunity to scratch her itch. She picked up the raccoon and climbed on top of the swing set. She placed its body on a metal bar and ignored the poor creature’s weak protests. Naomi gently lifted the rope swing and wrapped it around the animal, pinning it to the metal bar. The raccoon was soon trapped, constricted, and vulnerable.

Next, the young Naomi jumped into the grass and placed her hands on the swing, forcefully yanking downward while the mangled animal shrieked. She derived a sick pleasure from the animal’s agony, and though she wanted to prolong it, she soon found that she could contain herself no longer. She jumped and pulled down on the swing, snapping the animal’s neck and forcing blood to spew. She bathed her skin in the spilled blood; she cherished every drop and licked the blood-soaked earth.

            Even now, this memory still felt unreal to her. Naomi had always found raccoons cute, both before and after that event. And now after their first meeting, she also found Seth cute, albeit in a physically alluring way. Somewhere between his radiant blue eyes, his short afro, and his muscular physique, she was won over by his appearance. But despite her superficial attraction to him, she would soon have to figure out whether his Destruction power would assist her in the demolition of humanity, or instead if he would choose to stand in her way. For if he were to oppose her, his power when refined would likely be the only thing on Earth that could contend with hers. And even then, the talent of Creation had ten times the potential that Destruction possessed.

Furthermore, that was only the worst-case scenario. If Seth never refined Destruction, or especially if he joined her in her plot to reset humanity, then she could effortlessly bring humankind to its knees. She could then easily reset the pitiful species without resistance. But because of Seth Freeman, it would be foolish to begin her onslaught now.

            As a bus transported Naomi across the city toward the eastern suburbs, she reminisced on her brief meeting with Seth and recognized a youthful kindness in his eyes. She figured it was unlikely that they would ever work together for this common goal, which disappointed her because that was the simplest solution. And if they did end up on opposite sides, it was unlikely that either one of them could fulfill their desires. She could tell just by the way he looked at her that he was as physically attracted to her as she was to him.

            Nevertheless, Naomi glanced out the window to watch aimless people carry on with their frivolous lives as if they were in no real danger. They disgusted her; they revolved in and out of clothing stores and shopping centers, pouring their meaningless currency into unnecessary objects, searching for no purpose other than aesthetic delight. Meanwhile, frail people stepped upon the bus at each stop, impoverished despite exerting effort eightfold that of the privileged people. However, Naomi knew there was more to this inequality than pure greed and oppression; she saw many of the poor as victims of their own addictions and crimes. They were not safe from her judgment either. There was hardly an innocent soul among the city; there was hardly an innocent soul among the population. Therefore, everyone had to die.

Since Naomi was on a different bus than usual, it dropped her off several blocks from her apartment. It was a shady part of town, far from the sprawling suburbs. After stepping off the bus and into the night, Naomi heard a series of snickers from the shadows behind her. As the bus drove away, a sense of paranoia soon overtook her. The fading afterglow of sunset stained the horizon, casting very little light upon the street and run-down homes. She walked quickly toward her apartment complex, but then she heard the patter of footsteps following her.

Naomi stopped abruptly and turned around, glaring into the shadows even though she could barely see. Suddenly, she pulled her fingers together and clenched her left hand in a fist; a line across the sidewalk to the corner of the street suddenly burst into fire. This small fire illuminated the street behind her with a dim glow. No one was there. However, a large person suddenly pressed against her from behind. They stumbled against her, but a grimy, malodorous hand covered her mouth before she could exclaim in fright. The other hand reached around her body, grabbing a painful hold on her left shoulder.

 “Don’t make a sound, girl. I don’t want to hurt you. I just need you to loan me some cash,” the raspy voice whispered beside her ear. 

This was not the first time that Naomi had experienced a situation like this. She did not want to use her powers for fear of the attention it could draw, but she also could not allow this to continue. She snapped her teeth repeatedly at his hand, but he simply relocated his hand onto her other shoulder. The scent of liquor and smoke wafted from the disgusting man as he jerked her back, preventing her from fleeing. The mugger stumbled just slightly, pressing a firm object against Naomi’s back from inside his jacket, signaling the presence of a weapon. His right hand slowly descended through the air toward her bag, so she sighed as if in defeat.

“Alright, you win,” she said.

The raggedy thief smiled widely with his seven-toothed grin while sheathing his weapon in his jacket. He unhanded Naomi except for her right wrist. Despite this, Naomi knew she could easily finagle her way out of this situation.

 “Looks like you enjoyed that a little too much. Don’t feel bad; it turned me on too,” she exclaimed, forcing his face to contort first with confusion but then into a smile.

            Naomi closed her eyes as she lowered herself to the sidewalk, clenching her right hand. To the man’s surprise, a beautiful scimitar materialized within the clench of her right hand.

“H-how did you do that?” the man stammered as he stumbled backward.

            “Never again will your dirty hands to disgrace anyone with your vile touch.”

Naomi proudly amputated her assailant’s hand in a single swift slash of her scimitar. Overwhelmed with crippling pain, the assailant dropped to the grass as blood spattered from his arm, rolling on his side as he screamed into the twilight.

 “And now, to ensure that you will never mention a word of this to anyone…” she said.

Wrought with pleasure and anticipation, she stabbed the blade slowly into his neck from the side, intentionally steering it so that she would not inflict a mortal wound. She tore the miscreant’s vocal cords as blood bubbled from his wound. The scoundrel gasped in horror, but only a high-pitched hiss could escape his throat. His eyes were wide with shock and fear.

“You selected me as your victim because of my appearance and nothing else. You assumed that my lack of strength would make me a perfect target you could easily subdue; you decided to attack because of superficial perceptions. Isn’t that right?” Naomi asked as she pressed the blade upon his eyebrows.

            The mugger writhed back and forth beneath her, in pain and without hope for escape, but nevertheless his attempt was in vain. He could not scream, and he could not negotiate; he could not even begin to understand how his victim Created the weapon with which she dismembered him.

 “Your eyes betrayed you; they led you astray. But rest assured, for I will never allow them to commit another act of treason. Never again will they lead you down the wrong path; never again will they do another misdeed,” Naomi whispered, Creating enough thermal energy to boil his eyes.

            The victim’s rapid exhales covered her face with the stench of marijuana and alcohol, but due to his wounds, he could not even attempt to scream. This caused him to writhe in place and swing his head as if he were silently screaming. His body drenched the earth with blood that had oozed from nearly all of his facial orifices. His body convulsed and shuddered in inconceivable pain; there was nothing that he could do. Naomi smiled with delight at the fate of her assailant. One act against her was all it took to render his body unusably fragile. She could not help but feel like this served as an appetizer for all of humankind to follow.

            When Naomi reached her apartment, she opened the door to an empty darkness. The television caused a small glow in the room where she usually slept, but otherwise the stillness was flawless. There was something about emptiness that she appreciated; there was nothing to infuriate or perplex her. It was simple. But tonight, she had no desire to retain simplicity. Tonight would be her first attempt at making life, as so far she had only created mere objects. Naomi switched on the light, waking her dormant cat from the corner of the room. The cat padded alongside Naomi in a very friendly gesture, rubbing repeatedly against her legs.

“Tonight I have decided to make you a friend,” Naomi said.

            The creature began as a simple ball. It was just undifferentiated matter, prepared to be transmuted in any way Naomi saw fit. She stretched the into a longer and less-dense frame, spanning roughly eight feet from front to tail. Four legs emerged beneath the animal onto the carpet; intricate systems entered motion inside of it. Before Naomi had withdrawn from the biomedical program at the university, she was recognized as one of the most advanced students. This was because anatomy and bodily systems came easily to her. Therefore, it took her less than thirty minutes to give life to the Created matter. Before long, she had formed the creature’s head well enough that she could give it shape.

            It was decided—this animal would be a wolf. But it was not a typical wolf, for Naomi’s short attention span would grow tired of that almost immediately. Therefore, she chose to make many modifications. First and foremost, Naomi increased the wolf’s vocal range so that it could converse with humans; it could even emit a frequency capable of paralysis. Secondly, she augmented its muscular structure so that it could outrun any mammal that the world had ever seen. And lastly, she attached a third row of teeth to its bottom jaw, capable of a severe and multi-leveled bite.

            When she finished designing the creature, Naomi fashioned a small camera and embedded it into the wolf. She Created a receiver for the camera and a two-way speaker, so that she could hear what the wolf heard while also giving commands. This technological connection allowed her to use her wolf as a proxy through which she could act and speak, but it also allowed her to keep a safe distance. This meant that when it triggered its vocal frequency, it could safely paralyze everything in its presence—stupefying the muscles of its quarry. In other words, it could render its prey completely motionless.

            A short while later, Naomi released the wolf into the wild, but not after rewriting its brain with a level of bloodlust. It was small-scale and relatively simple, but her first assault upon the population had now commenced.