A Twist of Destiny Bk. 01

"I did," Emily said casually.

"As in... hair removal?" Dear God, I thought to myself. They've sent me to an Army analog of a manicurist.

Emily closed the folder in a studious manner. "It's more effective than waxing," she told me. "If we remove the hair follicles they won't grow back after The Procedure." I could almost hear the capital letters as she spoke the words.

I leveled my gaze at the young woman. "The... Procedure? What procedure?"

"Classified," she said breezily. "Now... strip. And don't worry about modesty. I've seen it all before and, anyway, I'm gay. Doesn't faze me a bit."

Well, the general's instructions did say that I was to do as I was told. I started to take off my uniform and asked, "So what, exactly, is going to be getting treatment here? Facial hair? Scalp?"

Emily turned around and started to pull things out of the cabinets. "Everything but the scalp. Groin, feet, hands, chest, back, buttocks, face, ears... by the end of the day you'll be hairless from nose to toes."

"Why, exactly, is this being done? Can I at least ask that much?"

Emily seemed to think it over for a bit and then shrugged. "So that it won't grow back, I guess."

I blanched at that but didn't stop undressing. I rather liked having facial hair, dammit. But my memory of NightShade's visit hadn't faded a bit and I now realized that he had seemed a bit hairless when I met him. I found myself wondering, then, what the reason behind that was but now it made sense. When he'd cut open his palm it seemed like it had taken some real effort. I realized, then, that he was probably the closest thing to invulnerable the world would ever see. And that invulnerability probably extended to his hair follicles. That being the case, shaving would be nearly impossible for him- who made razors that sharp? Ergo, he had to be denuded. Lord only knows how he managed to cut hair from his scalp, but I suspected that I'd figure that out sooner rather than later.

As I shucked my underwear I asked, "It's not going to hurt, is it?"

Emily shrugged. "Probably at little. But it won't last. It just stings a bit. I do it to myself all the time. The girls love it." I took that on faith.

I won't go into the gory details. Suffice to say that Emily was a consummate professional and kept her task very clinical in every regard. Yes, it was a bit uncomfortable, but thanks to the regenerative abilities that had been passed on to me by NightShade, I didn't suffer half as much as one might have guessed. Emily thought that I was just being stoic when I remarked that, sometimes, it tickled. The thought did occur to me, however, that my healing ability might make the whole practice a moot point, but I found that I was mistaken. The hair neither grew back nor did the follicles regenerate. That perplexed me a bit, but I didn't let on with Emily present. The whole procedure, though, was very thorough and took most of the day, which was wearisome. I wondered what Holly would think of the "new" me if and when she finally did manage to "seduce" me. Such thoughts naturally led to a short, embarrassing moment with Emily, but she merely regarded it with a slight grunt of dismissal. I wondered just how gay she really was, though, when she glanced at it a second time.

I went home that evening feeling a bit strange and doubtful about this whole thing. My first day at the office had consisted of denuding 95% of my body- yes, even my ears and between my eyebrows got the treatment. What in the world did the second day hold for me, I wondered.

That night Holly's ardor was considerably cooler and she made no overt moves to seduce me except to suggest that I call my wife soon. She didn't know that I already had talked with Kathy and had warned her that, soon, I'd be calling to "ask" her about our daughter's strange claims. I'd decided to let the young woman stew in her own juices (literally and figuratively) until next week, after The Procedure. If she was still in a hurry to trip me, I was going to give her plenty of time and opportunity to think it over. A week of absence might change her mind. That was Kathy's opinion. I, however, didn't think a week away from Holly's advances would change anything.

And Holly barely even noticed that I was now mostly hairless (while she seemed to have no problems with letting me see her naked, I wasn't quite ready to follow suit). She did, however, mention that I seemed to have done a particularly good job of shaving that day. "Not even a tiny bit of stubble," she noted while we ate dinner. Beyond that, though: nothing. After dinner was done I told her that I wanted to go out for a short walk and get some fresh air. She offered to join me, but I begged off, saying that I needed to do some processing about the day's events in private. She demurred and I left a few minutes later.

After about ten minutes of aimlessly walking around outside I finally found a secluded alleyway, double-checked to make certain that no one could see me, and pushed myself off the ground. I could immediately tell that my powers had somehow diminished in the last six months as I couldn't seem to get much speed (maybe fifty miles per hour) and I felt mental exhaustion just after a few minutes of being airborne. I came back down to the ground in the same alleyway and pondered that discovery while smoking a cigarette. Why would my abilities start going away, I wondered. What could cause that? I didn't know a whole lot about biology but I did know the functions of various organs. Kidneys filter out impurities and nourishment from fluids in one's body and its output ends up becoming urine. In the same way, a person's liver does the same thing for blood- it cleans out impurities and makes the blood, among other things, seem like new. Of course, the process is a lot more complicated than that, and I knew it, but that was the bare-bones description of the liver's primary function. Perhaps, over the last six months, whatever enhanced properties that had existed in NightShade's blood had gotten filtered out of mine. Where did the "foreign" elements of that blood go? How come it took so long for it to dissipate? NightShade had told me that he was giving me a sort of booster, to make the greater changes he underwent less painful- no, I amended, he'd said that it would make "the full process easier" and to give me an edge that they wouldn't expect. Had something changed in the timeline and a window of opportunity had somehow been missed? Would there still be enough of his blood co-mingled with mine to make a difference? Or was the experience of what it did to me supposed to serve as "preparation", a sort of preview of what's to come? I inwardly cursed him for being so damned enigmatic about the whole thing and quickly felt like an idiot- I was cursing a person that I would eventually become: my future self. No good can come of that, so I pushed the frustration from my mind and resolved to just ride this out, see where it led me.

The next day I reported to General Hannis' office, like the day before, and the situation was much the same. Mrs. Thrush, instead of giving me a folder with directions in it, simply told me to go to a different room in The Basement. I didn't have to ask where The Basement was, by then; I'd heard the sub-level I'd been in the day before referred to as such.

I reported to the room and identified myself to the Specialist seated behind the reception desk within. He marked my name off a small list, told me to wait a few minutes until someone came to get me and then ignored me entirely. I'd barely planted my ass in one of the uncomfortable seats in that waiting room before another lab-coated civilian poked his head through the door beside the reception desk and called me in. I followed him down a narrow hallway until he led me into another room. Inside the room was a massive chamber that looked like something between a tanning booth and a photo booth.

I regarded the booth with a blank expression while the man closed the door behind us. "Let me guess," I said. "I'm supposed to disrobe, right?"

The technician walked past me and said blandly, "You can leave your underwear on this time. Nothing so invasive as yesterday. Once you're down to your skivvies, you'll step inside the scanner, stand perfectly still and wait there. The first scan will take about twenty minutes and then you'll be allowed to take a break. The second scan will take about twice as long, but you'll be allowed to lay down for that one. The third scan will seem like an eternity, two hours, but it'll be easier because you'll be able to move around if you want to. After that we'll be done for the day."

"What, exactly, are we scanning?" I asked.

The technician gave me a narrow-eyed stare for a moment and then shrugged. "Body measurements and internal organs in the first scan. The second scan will be an MRI and a study of your skeletal structure. The third, and longest one, will be a full scan of your molecular structure. We'll begin whenever you're ready."

With that, he left me alone in the room. I took off my uniform, folded it neatly on the floor beside the scanning booth, and stepped inside. It was dark but surprisingly warm in there. After a few seconds a small speaker inside the booth came to life and I heard the man's voice tell me to stand still. If I moved, even to scratch my nose, he'd have to restart the scan. We got ten minutes into it before I goofed it and he had to restart it. Twenty agonizingly dull minutes passed by before it was done. With the first scan done, I was told to get dressed and go get some lunch, then the next scan would start when I got back.

I wish that I'd taken longer on my lunch break. The second scan did indeed take twice as long as the first scan and, by the time it was done, I had to piss like a rushing racehorse. As soon as I was given permission to get dressed, I did so in what had to be record time and anxiously asked for the nearest bathroom.

I was thankful that I didn't suffer from claustrophobia. The third scan was infinitely more boring. And I had to be completely naked for it because the cloth of underwear would throw off the molecular scan. During my time in there I thought about all kinds of things, firstly about the fact that NightShade's enhanced blood might throw the molecular scans off somehow or, worse, expose the fact that he had given it to me before they had. I pushed such thoughts aside, though, because, even if they noticed the existence of the enhanced blood and the changes it had caused throughout my body, the might interpret that as something inherent within me and may actually improve my chances as a "candidate" for their program (and, as it happens, I was completely correct, on all counts). But you might guess what took up the majority of my attention: Holly.

I'm a very imaginative and creative type of individual, really. You'd think that most computer geeks like me would be all about coding and hacking and whatnot. Well, to be honest, some of that does vaguely interest me, but it's always come so naturally to me that I don't pursue it with any real vigor. But writing, art, music, religion, philosophy... those things really switch me on. So it's no surprise that I have a vivid and colorful imagination and, in point of fact, it's helped me to anticipate all kinds of situations that most other people wouldn't even think to prepare for. For nearly two straight hours I ran through my mind all kinds of possible scenarios that might come up in the near future. Most of them, I admit, ended up with Holly and me copulating wildly, like rutting animals, but I did try to think of a few ways to defuse her clearly volatile interests in me.

The problem with that whole situation is that I did want to bed the girl. I'm her dad, though, and that causes certain kinds of personal conflicts, which anyone couldn't argue against. I had a duty to her growth and development as a functional member of society. If I were to have sexual relations with her, even with my wife's "blessing", I'd be teaching her, by proxy, that the rules of society, vis a vis incest, are prosaic at best. And even though we shared no sanguinity, what we'd engage in was still, as far as The Law was concerned, illegal incest. But, then again, we were technically in Belgium, a country whose laws on the matter were quite lax. As long as we stayed in Belgium, no one could really do anything to us but cast a few ugly looks... unless someone wanted to make it a military justice matter, which would be messy any way you looked at it because the military had invested and would invest a great deal of resources into turning me into, of all things, a super-hero. And, anyway, weren't super-heroes supposed to be beacons of justice and morality?

But, then, I realized that I wasn't being groomed in any ethical sense for my future role. The people in charge of the project- and I suspected General Hannis was in that probably very small group- had already taken it for granted that my moral compass pointed North enough to suit their ends. Not to put too fine a point on it, but I was not supposed to be a super-hero; I was being made into a weapon that represented the will of a government (at the very least) or a military agenda (at the very worst). The mores of American society were, I realized, of secondary or even tertiary importance to the Army's goals. I inwardly vowed to myself that, no matter what, I would not allow myself to be used in any way that might overthrow a nation or society. I could abide fighting against tyrants, despots, criminals and other types of evil men (and their underlings/followers/thugs), but I would not attack the innocent under any circumstances. I would hide my identity to the best of my ability so that no one might ever discover what goes on in my family. As for the Army knowing my identity... well, they'd have an awful lot of egg on their face if it came to light that their super-soldier was any kind of deviant, wouldn't they? They'd keep their mouths shut just as tightly as I would, to be sure. Nevertheless, society at large, across the entire planet, would see me as a hero and they would have certain expectations of me. In a sense it would be like a very delicate PR game and I knew, then, that the less time I spent in front of a news camera, the better off everyone would be.

My next bit of introspection brought me to the whole issue of time travel. NightShade was, or, rather, I would be capable of it. I didn't have a clue how it worked, but I had the distinct feeling that a lot more harm could be done with it than good. I decided that I would first attempt it after I'd gotten some serious training done with my other abilities. The less my superiors knew about it, the better off they and I would be. I guess I intuitively understood that being able to go back in time would require a hell of a lot more control and focus than any of the other abilities I'd develop. Learning how to control them would, in a way, help me to learn how to control it better. But I was getting ahead of myself at that point and I knew it. I had to relax, keep my head down and wait to see what would happen, how things would shake out. I still had no idea what The Procedure would entail, but my gut told me that it wasn't going to be fun.

By the time the molecular scan of my body was complete, I was mentally worn out and impatient for some new stimuli. I practically leapt out of that confining box as though my feet had been set aflame and, when the technician confirmed that the scan was complete, all I asked was if there was anything more expected of it. When he shook his head no and turned to leave me be, I got dressed quickly and went home.

Chapter Six : Mean Streets

That weekend I kept my word to Holly and we went to London. I'd been there, years ago, visit an old girlfriend of mine (who'd since moved away) and I was surprised to learn that a lot of things had changed since then. Stores that I remembered being in business had been replaced with something else entirely, streets looked better, buses were newer and everything looked cleaner. Sure, there was still the same kind of detritus that came from city life- trash, debris and chemical stains on the roads- but, for the most part, London had improved in the last 15 years. There were the same sights to see, though- Hyde Park, St. James Park, Picadilly Circus and London Bridge to name just a few. I gave Holly as thorough an education on the history of London and England in general and a good deal of it actually seemed interesting to her (Holly was a very smart young woman but never seemed to have much patience for learning history and culture). She fairly gaped at some of the more outlandish things found in Greenwich Village and SoHo, which amused me some, as I had seen so much in my life that hardly anything surprised me anymore, least of all a couple of young men dressed in feathers (and not much else), walking down the sidewalk and holding hands.

As we walked down the street, past the Cathedral of St. Martin's In-The-Fields and further past Trafalgar Square, we came to the opening of an alleyway. We'd almost walked past it until I heard the crying groan of an old man and the barking laughter of some mean-spirited antagonist. I stopped in mid-step and turned to peer down the alley. While the abilities that NightShade had given were indeed diminished, they were far from gone. I still had a bit of night-vision available to me, still a good deal of strength, could still fly for a few minutes at a time and I felt fairly certain that, should I be severely injured, I'd still heal from major wounds pretty quickly. Holly was with me and, even though she couldn't see as clearly as I could, she was able to figure out what was going on: a few rather mean-looking skin heads were harassing an old homeless man, not for money but for sport. Holly gripped my arm tightly in disgust.

"Should we do something?" she asked quietly.

I squared my shoulders and erected my spine, marshalling my energy and already preparing for the fight. "If I recall correctly, honey, there's a police precinct just down the block at the next major intersection. Go find a cop and bring him back here. Might be a good idea to suggest they call an ambulance, too."

"You don't have to get yourself hurt, Dad," she admonished. I could hear the concern and worry in her voice.

I glanced down at her and smiled wolfishly, her eyes widening at seeing this unprecedented side of me. "The ambulance won't be for me. It'll be for them," I said flatly. "Go on."

At first Holly hesitated but the look in my eyes, the fire behind them, must have conveyed something that told her I wasn't just being brave: those men would need an ambulance by the time I got done with them. She quickly took off running down the block, shouting for help as she did so, and I started to walk calmly down the alley.

"Hey!" I shouted at the skin heads as one of them planted a solid kick into the poor elderly man's stomach with a malicious laugh. "Isn't he a bit old for you? I mean, little boys in kindergarten would pick on little girls to show their attraction, right? So you beating the shit out of this guy... what will people think of you?"

The one who'd just planted his kick on the old man spun around to face me, a sneer on his face. He wore black jeans, sneakers and no shirt. To keep his pants up were a pair of suspenders. His bald pate shined oddly in the London lamplight that shined down from the side of a building. Tribal tattoos ran up and down his forearms and there was a great big tattoo of a cross on his chest, just above his heart, that was underscored by a swastika. Muscles bulged menacingly on his forearms and pecs and he rolled his neck lazily, popping his neck joints, like it was supposed to somehow intimidate me. He was the English analog of a neo-Nazi, probably part of the group calling themselves "Sharps."