Date: Tue, 21 Jun 2016 20:56:58 -0700
From: Garth Eads <gartheads@gmail.com>
Subject: A Secondary Chance - Part 2

Disclaimer: This is a work of science fiction/fantasy. None of the
characters are real or based on real people. The author holds no
responsibility for any similarities readers find to real life.  All
characters engaged in sexual acts are of legal age. Please do not copy this
story or ideas without the author's permission.

"Hello! Hello! I know you're there. Please answer the phone." The voice
coming through the answering machine is filled with nervous energy. I know
that I should pick up and answer but I can't. I can't stop looking at the
spot where my husband flew off to fight for me and my safety. The answering
machinery dies and my cell phone stops ringing and I just stand there,
willing myself to move but unable to. It's not guilt that roots me there, I
got rid of that emotion a long time ago. I try to ignore all the sounds of
a day starting and just focus on the sound of my husband's voice, the feel
of his body over me and in me and around me. I don't want to think of
anything else."And how easy is that going for you?" My traitorous brain
asks. I tell it to fuck off and leave me be. My world goes back to silence,
only this time, it's not the perfect wonderful silence of before but a
bloody awful one filled with dark promise. Belinda Carlisle's Heaven is a
Place on Earth starts playing and like magic, I break from my stupor and
run to the bedroom to answer it, almost braining myself on the side table
in the process. I am able to answer it before it stops ringing. I don't
look to see who it is. Only three people have this number. Not even my
husband knows about this phone.

"Hello?" I ask.

"Good morning Secondary and how are we doing this morning?" The voice on
the other end is female with a very proper English accent. The question
isn't rhetorical, she truly wishes to know how my morning is going. That's
just the kind of person she is. I slump against the bed, my back against
the side.

"Good morning Quinary.  it started off well until the Knights called." I
think I smiled but I can't tell.

"I see, then you already know that they found him." I nod, which seems
stupid since she can't see me but she knows. "That's one of the reason's
I'm calling."

"One? It's not that I'm not glad to hear from you Quinary but  I really
don't think I can handle much at the moment." My voice is starting to
break. That's when I feel something warm inside of me. It's not the warmth
of lust or sex or the feeling I get from my husband hugs, it's different
than that. It's the feeling of warmth when your favorite friend hugs you
for no reason or when your pet starts to love you just a little more of
when a mom makes cookies after school just because she knew you needed
them. It was that kind of warmth and I knew the voice on the other end was
responsible for it. I can hear her speaking and I can feel her too.

"Breath in, hold, breathe out. Breathe in, hold, breathe out. Breathe in,
hold, breath out..." As she talks to me, the feeling of warmth grows and
surrounds me like a giant bear hug. I try to comply with the directions and
slowly, I feel like I'm coming back to reality.

"Thank you, Quinary," I mumble.

"Are you stable now?" She asks.

"I am."

"Good. Now as I was saying, The Patriot League found him and called in for
assistance from all heroes within 200 miles. I'm heading there myself now."
That made me feel a lot better about things. If the fight did turn ugly,
Quinary would be there to patch my Knight up as good as new and send him
home to me.  "As I know you do  not have a television at your place, I will
be keeping you updated with anything important as it happens."

"Thank you."

"Your are welcome. As for my second piece of information. Quaternary
contacted me  this morning."

"They found the new ones?"

"Not yet but they did tell me Tertiary was found by the Phantom Corps  last
night."

"He isn't Tertiary anymore." I say, trying to gauge what Quinary was
telling me.

"That's right, I forgot. I'm so used to thinking of him like that. Bother.
Where was I? Oh yes, The Phantom Corps found him last night and..."

"It turned ugly?"

"Very much so." A sigh "There wasn't much left to identify the body but
Nightmare was able to identify him since she was familiar enough with him
from before."

"Is that all?" I don't want to be rude but the death of a man who made my
life a living hell for years doesn't really concern me.

"Well yes." There was a pause in that.

"What is wrong?"

"Dr. Bizarre has been looking to talk to you. He asked my team if we knew
who you were and where he could find you." I flinch. I don't want to talk
to him. I never want to see him. I don't want him asking questions about
what happened last Christmas because as far as I'm concerned, the man who
did those tings was dead and  that was final.

"Secondary?"

"Still here."

"I know this will be hard for you. Kali only knows what you must be
thinking but just remember, he will come back to you. If nothing else,
remember that. He's too stubborn to let death take him from you."

"Thank you Quinary. Please be safe."

"I'll try." And with a click, the call ended.

I sit there staring out of the stained glass window my husband had put in
for me to silence the room. It was a beautiful piece of art. It was a copy
of the South Rose window from Norte-Dame. A friend of his had made it as a
wedding present. I continued to stare at it as my fingers dialed on my
phone. Two rings then a feminine voice answers, full of pep and zing.

"Good Morning Wesley, how's the honeymoon?" I smile at that.

"We've been married for almost three months, I think you missed the
honeymoon." A scoff.

"When two people are meant for each other as much as you two are, every day
is a honeymoon." I laugh, a sob escaping as well.

"Are you both there?" A thump and then the phone goes to speaker phone.

"We are now. What's up?" The second voice is much calmer, more `honor
student goth' than the other's `captain of the cheer squad'. I take a deep
breath. I shouldn't be asking this but I need to know. I've done too much
in my life to know that it stacks the deck against you.

"Does he come back home?" My voice is small and quiet. I feel sick at
myself. I am a man for God's sake. I should be acting tough and ignoring my
feeling like other men and doing something manly like go shooting or
killing a defenseless animal or something instead of sitting in my room and
calling my psychic hotline. I'm pathetic. There is a silence on the other
end that seems to last forever.

"It's hard to say for certain." Oh that's not good but then again "As you
know yourself, our abilities don't work well with him." I know this. It's
the reason I fell in love with him. I gather my wits back together.

"Alright," I say more in control of myself "let me ask you this, does he
end up defeated?" Another silence, longer this time. Finally,

"Define defeated." Oh shit. They only ask that when there are too many
paths that can be taken and too little time to explain each one properly.

"Ok...Does the Obsidian Knight beat him?" A pause, silence, then

"Yes-ish?" Yes-ish, what is yes-ish?

"Explain." Another long pause.

"He wins and defeats the enemy he so longs to destroy but it comes with a
heavy price." I don't want her to finish but I have to. That's how it
works. They simply cannot stop in the middle of a vision, they have to see
the whole thing.

"Who's?" This silence is not like the others. This isn't the silence of
waiting for an answer. They have the answer but they don't want to say it.

"Yours." The answer is so quiet that I almost don't hear it. It sounds like
the person on the other end is speaking to me through a long tunnel and in
a way, she is. "You pay the price, he will make you but doing so will
destroy what is left of him. This will be his last stand, no matter what."
There is a deathly silence and I know what it means.

"Did we do the right thing?" I ask.

"Who can say whether it was right or wrong. It was necessary is all we know
but whether it was right, only time will tell us." I hated when they got
cryptic like this. They watched too much of the Oracle on Television. I
swallow the lump in the throat.

"Is everything alright over there?"

"Oh yes, well, mostly. Our host keeps asking when his wife will come home."
I roll my eyes and groan.

"Alright, I'll come over there and see what's wrong. Try to find out what
wife he's talking about before I do anything."

"Can do. See you in two hours." Another click. I stand up and move to the
giant closet in the other end of the bedroom. I know my husband want's me
to stay here and hide like a good little house husband but I'm not good at
doing what's best for me. I never have and probably never will be. I change
into the most comfortable clothing I have and grabbing my keys, wallet, and
both cell phones, head out the door.

It doesn't take me long to find a ride. As I am technically not allowed to
get a driver's license, I have had to find other means of transportation.
It's not hard as long as you know what you're doing. This time, it's a
bunch of surfer type frat boys in some ridiculously colored jeep, listening
to some horrible rap music. I understand that rap is a genre that has a lot
of important qualities to the African American community and I respect
those who can do it well, but for shit's sake people, stop letting white
people do it.

The trick to hitchhiking is to know exactly what kind of ride you're
looking for and once you have it in mind, it's all about making them
believe they're doing the right thing by helping you. Like I said, easy. As
the jeep got closer, I started to work. It works, because it always works.
The jeep practically tipped over as it screeched to a halt in front of me.

"Well Hello there,' the driver said, his good ol boy accent thick and heavy
in my ears. "What can me and my boys do for you, Missy." I smile and warm
and condescending smile. Hicks are so easy to trick.

"Hello there stud," I say, my voice appearing to belong to a young woman in
her mid-twenties. "I appear to be lost and need help getting my to uncle's
house." Make sure to always add a whimper or a look of desperation. It goes
over like gold.

"Well now, that's just tragic to hear. Ain't it boys. I'm sure we'd be more
than happy to help you out miss as long as you don't mind sharing a seat."
He looks me up and down and I know what he sees. He is looking at a very
attractive woman in tight fitting clothing with a moderately large bust
size and a nice ass. The hicks weren't bad looking so this would be a
pleasant drive even with the obvious ideas they were having about an orgy.
Maybe pull over on the side of the road and let with fine young filly show
her appreciation to these stallions. I give another condescending smile
which probably looked flirty to them and they all grinned back.

"Thank you so much. You're a true hero." They all grin at each other. "Now
which one of you fine gents owns this jeep." The driver winks at me.

"That would be me miss." Oh thank God. This won't take half an hour then.
Another smile and I get to work.

This part was always my favorite back when I was a teenager and still is
somewhat. The whole telepathy thing isn't really spectacular when you first
about it but once you learn all the tricks, it's a life-saving talent. I
ever so subtly grab hold of their minds and yank. All of them go slacked
jawed and glassy eyed. I speak to the driver, the image of the beautiful
women still in his head.

"I need you to take me to  Philadelphia and make it quick." The driver nods
vaguely and opens the passenger door for me. I get in as the other guys get
out. I turn to them. "Head to Stone Harbor and wait for your friend there."
They nod and walk to the closest bus stop. I nod in approval and turn back
to the driver who is grinning stupidly at me. "You may proceed."

I try  not let my mind wander as frat surfer boy drives me to my
destination. I implanted the directions and the final destination in his
mind so he won't get lost and this way I don't actually have to talk to
him. When my mind wanders, it tends to bring up things I would rather
forget but somehow, despite my best efforts, it does. I stare out the
window and watch the world fly by and all I can think is "At least the
police aren't following this time." That isn't a thought normal people have
but considering how `normal' my life was before, it's not that unusual.

"Mind if I turn on the radio?" Frat Surfer asks and I nod my consent. Music
will help take my mind off of the reality of the day and quiet the world.
After the first few bars of music come out of the radio, I realize that I
know this song. It's by Queen. As a gay man, I am  fan of Mr. Mercury but
the song is like a battering ram that destroys any attempt I might have
made on closing my thoughts and suddenly I'm not in my twenties, I'm not
driving from my home in Cape May, New Jersey to Philadelphia, Pennsylvania,
and I'm not married to my Knight. It's like I'm a teenager again and
nothing in the world makes sense, I'm lost, hungry, broke and trying to
keep from falling apart as I'm somehow the stable one. Probably thinking I
won't notice, frat surfer dude starts putting his arm around the back of
the seat in an `innocent' manner like we're in a movie theater or
something. I turn to look at him.

"May I help you?" I ask with all the sweetest of salt. My gives me a
sideways grin.

"I think that's only fair as I'm helping you Sweetness." I'm not sure but I
think he's trying to flirt. I have never dated and my husband was never one
for small talk or subtly. I turn completely to the frat surfer dude and
look at him quizzically.

"And what makes you think I'm interested?" I'm genuinely curious what
imaginary signals I have apparently given off to make this Spring Break
stereotype think I want his dick. He gives me another one of those cocky
grins boys who think they're men use. Tertiary use to give us those when he
told us he should trust him more. That ended badly for us and worse for
him. I take a quick look at my hold on him and find that it's strong and
stable.

"Can't override hormones dearest." That damn voice in the back of my mind
says and I know it's right so I put an end to any further delusions.

"What's your name?" I ask. He flashes me a full on grin. His teeth are
yellow but straight enough.

"Rusty." Because of course it is.

"Tell me, Rusty, what do you think you have that I would be interested in?'
I could look for myself but that might cause Rusty to have a brain
aneurysm. Telepathy isn't a science, there's no way to tell what people are
able to tolerate before flatlining. Rusty's grin falters a bit but it's
back to full when he gets that I want him to talk about himself.

"Well now, to start..." i hold up my hand to stop him.

"Would you kill for me?" The look of shock on his face is priceless.

"I beg your pardon?" I continue.

"Because in less you're willing to kill, this is going to go nowhere and
you're just getting your hopes up." He starts to look angry.

"Well excuse me, but what kind of question is that to base a relationship
on." I can't help it. I start to laugh. I laugh so hard my sides get sore.
I can tell Rusty is not happy but I don't care. I laugh for what feels for
the first time in six months. Rusty is starting to fume.

"What's so damn funny? Huh? You making fun of me?" His southern twang is in
full effect now which makes me laugh harder. He turns to glare at me and I
am able to control myself enough to answer.

"The night I met my husband for the first time, he killed five men." Rusty
grows as white as fresh milk and turns abruptly to the front. It's quiet as
I hear Rusty's thought as he tries to process what I just said and whether
or not it was a lie. "It's the complete and honest truth." I say aloud.
What isn't the truth was that he killed those men for me. That wouldn't
come until later.

We sit in silence as I tighten my grip on Rusty's mind and gauge what kind
of person my driver was. I'm not disappointed in my search as he is
completely normal and human. There's nothing abnormal or supernatural about
him except his ego. That's good because I am not in a position to take on
any Strangers right now. I never really am but with my Knight gone, I have
no one to call for help if things get ugly as they tend to do with us
Strangers. Without my noticing, Rusty switches the radio from music to the
news. The sounds of explosions and the rapid pace in which the reporter
reports tells me exactly what the top story is today.

"This is completely unbelievable, Jill, It looks like every Hero from the
East Coast is in New York.." An explosion. "Many of the teams and leagues
are trying to keep damage at a minimum and help evacuate civilians to
safety." Rusty is starting to get excited. I can't listen. Each and every
one of those explosions and all the damage and all the people that get hurt
are because of me. It's irrational to think that way as I know there were
many contributing factors   to the events at Christmas but in the end, I'm
the one who dealt the most lethal blow and all for the sakes of people like
Rusty and his friends, who would probably tar and feather me if they knew
what I was. There was the sound of something heavy falling to Earth right
behind the reporter. The man is brave. He continues without pause. "From
witnesses, the biggest combatants in this brawl are the Patriot League and
Gem Knights."  Rusty lets out a wolf whistle.

"Hell Yeah!" I'm stunned by the reaction.

"You like the Gem Knights?" He gives me fierce grin.
"Oh Hell yes, they're my  favorite heroes, especially Obsidian. They guy is
a totally BAMF. I hear he took on The Nine Lords by himself once. I give
him major props too. When he came out, it was like a total shock but really
cool too. All those hate groups suddenly had to be really careful because
the best brawler in the world was out defending against them. The man is a
beast." He certainly is. I see a sign that welcomes us to Pennsylvania.
Over the radio, I hear the sounds of combat continue and I can't help
thinking that despite how bad this was, the alternative would have been so
 much worse.


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