Free Caped (Book 1): The Burdens of Fate by Kerron Streater

first time. Massive
arcs of electrical energy tear across the city streets and through the
buildings just as easily as it does human flash, which it leaves littered
across the area. Dozens are killed within seconds, but at least it's quick.
Dozens more continue on with their incomplete or broken bodies, charred flesh
and blood hang off bodies and lay scattered across the ground. They grab
anything, including the now useless portion of themselves, and throw them about
in undirected tantrums until they either pass out or succumb to their injuries.
    Police on the scene fire mercilessly into both
crowds and on themselves, like they're criminals facing the firing squad;
except there is no gracious pause, entire clips of shells dance on the ground
until there's no one left to pull a trigger. The E.C.'s begin to fight amongst
themselves but, with very few actually possessing a formidable offensive
ability, it too devolves into a godless massacre.
    Nine sixteen. One minute after the surge of
rage subsides, and the emotions still linger.
    Phase one goes into effect and the power goes
out in all of Orange
County and the
surrounding areas.
    Laurie and I stood out in the parking lot. I
could see the frustration on the faces of the people inside, expecting the
lights to kick back on any moment, while Laurie just stared anxiously towards
the city. I took the final drag of cigarette and smothered it beneath my foot,
an old habit I've recently picked back up.
    I told him the time had come, to which he gave
a shallow grunt and slight nod of affirmation followed by a half-joking remark
about how cigarettes would be the death of me. I assured him otherwise.
    "Will I be seeing you later?" he
asked, a little nervous.
    I responded with confident assurance.
    "Don't lie to me."
    And I prayed to God I wasn't.
    He took a few quick steps forward and leaped
into the sky, there was a slight thud as he took off and a few people inside
turned to look; I gave them an emotionless glance and then proceeded to wait by
a nearby car.
    At nine twenty-one Laurie encountered what was
left of enraged police and a crowd of protesters in front of the courtyard.
Many were dead, and those that weren't could only barely claim such. People
were trickling out from the buildings and into the streets.
    A second wave of cops had just begun assaulting
the area when Laurie dropped in, giving their startled rage a single point on
which to focus. The police opened fire and people continued to throw bricks,
rubble, and anything else they could fit in their bloodied hands. Nothing he
couldn't handle, expect perhaps the feeling of utter hatred.
    "Leave! Run!" he exclaimed; the
futile shouting of a novice. But yesterday we were all amateurs, and they
weren't the reason he was there. He was there for their protection, awaiting
the arrival of a terrifyingly unnatural entity.
    An uncanny creature with thick black skin and
red animalistic markings that looked so flawless it were as if they'd been
painted on, massive wings that draped over his shoulders and covered his
entire, unrealistically toned, athletic frame like a thick shroud; and despite
its complete lack of a mouth it still managed a ghostly wail. Now was the time
for silent prayers and kissing the cross, an offensively misleading act, it was
very much human. A fact as much comforting as it is terrifying.
    Laurie didn't have time to react. It struck
first, hard.
    Laurie struck back harder.
    By nine-thirty Michael had heard the news over
breakfast...

 
 
    Michael Serna -
    Holy mother of the dear Lord Jesus Christ of
Later Day
    Saints!! Shit does not, I repeat, does not get
any more fucking crazy than that! Period. I barely know where to begin, L.A., Seattle?
...yeah, fucking Seattle.
I honestly forgot Seattle was a city until I
ended up in fucking Seattle.
Who's impressed by a "Space Needle" that sits on the fuckin' ground?
The last 24 hours have been bat-shit crazy. So let's start with L.A., stick with me...
    Total. Media.