Cloaked in void, Mark's figure was distorted, even to himself. He stared at his hands, blacker than the darkest night, even the brightest light unable to sully it. The body was similar, covered in a shroud of shadow, as if submerged within the Void; become one with it. Looking deeper, specks of white stars placed randomly throughout his celestial figure and surrounding him, shadow-like smoke wafted throughout the air. It lingered behind him as he ambled toward the monster.
The nothingness caressed him, a comfort that cannot be described, serenity devouring his apprehension. A black figure transfixed itself before him, bitter and soundless, the eyes locked upon his form, wide-eyed and shaking.
They didn't stop, the amethysts trembling in the darkness. A metre separated them, a giant and a boundless entity. Mark's eyes were engrossed with the behemoth's own, an ever-increasing emotion of disgust and scorn bubbling from within, threatening to unleash itself. His head spazzed, trying mightily to reduce the foreign sentiment clouding his judgement.
He grunted loudly, the feeling contained, his voice grated and strained, "How... are you here?"
It didn't answer, still and silent, watching the young man it once fought, unsure why its soul was chained to this place. One moment, passing towards a radiating beacon in the endless cold, the next, covered in a shroud of oblivion, the light retreating out of view.
Mark tutted, the sensation of pure contempt creeping up his neck. He furrowed his inexistent brows, the Void undeniably sentient yet, no questions asked or answered. There were never instructions, a manual... nor an emotion. It was something new, unique for a specific occasion, hinting towards an action.
It had travelled further, the scorn covering half his face like Shadow Finger, a disease unrelenting in its fury. He grunted a second time, the emotion taking hold of his mind in its vice grip. It hurt; a hammering sensation appeared as it did days ago, a migraine without compare.
"Owwwww..." Mark hissed through gritted teeth, the exclamation extended.
His mind thumped, his hand grasping the giant's wrist subconsciously directed by something. The sight warped before him, the giant becoming awash with Mark's cloak as it feasted upon the monster's figure like a ravenous wolf.
The amethyst eyes engorged and shimmered; the purple became faint and blurred with black as they quivered and fluttered. Mark observed in fascination, unconcerned about the brute's imminent demise, as his shadow forced the giant to succumb to oblivion.
An hour passed or perhaps a minute; time lost its meaning as Mark's symptoms became increasingly pronounced. The monster had been absorbed or assimilated into him, the pulsating sensation becoming more prominent. Consuming the creature, he felt renewed and rejuvenated. Powerful; stronger.
Then, as suddenly as it came, it went without a trace. There was bliss as he lingered in the Void, the unceasing rippling being the only constant. He had been forced to commit the actions it wanted, but why was he still here?
He tried to distinguish something, anything, different or abnormal. But there was nothing, just waves of ripples in every direction unerring. For twenty minutes, he overlooked the darkness for nought to occur. Time was difficult to count; those twenty minutes could be an hour, a day or merely a second. His mind was muddled. Thinking upon anything was troublesome and a waste of time.
Perhaps it was steering him onto a path, removing unnecessary thoughts. He stood there, pondering, for what felt like an age, time passing within his mind; the Void unchanging. There was nothing to decipher, nothing to wonder upon.
Except, for the ripples. He gazed upon them like waves of atoms and underlying concepts. Unceasingly, Mark stared at them, to know them, understand them. No matter how long he sat, it made no difference. He was on the right track but missing something.
'Ripples in nothingness. What does it mean? How can a void change?'
His mind was nudged, by something and nothing, as if always looking from a different direction. An unseen guide, correcting his mistakes like a child.
'How it moves isn't the concern, perhaps the relation.' Mark stared at his hands and figure, the difference from other visits. He was pure black with specks of multicoloured stars, like a celestial being birthed from space itself. Or perhaps, born from the Void.
'I am similar to the waves, yet different. Why? It... denotes something? Leadership? No, close but not the same. Command?'
A single word, a single thought, brought upon it great change. Everything stopped, frozen, the environment locked in stasis mid-action.
'The key was command? I... command the Void?'
He was so close, he could feel it. It was like a giddy parent watching their child's first steps, the emotion vague and faint yet felt.
'I don't order the Void. I am... one with it?'
The Void, once unmoving and unspoken, was brought to action once again. The waves continued, yet this time, he could see it. He could hear it. He could feel it. Like an extension of oneself, like a limb or nerves, advising the brain. He could move it. Twist it and turn it, the surroundings obeying his will.
Paradoxically, he could sense something. Energy or an underlying part of reality. Distant yet close, malleable and usable because it was him, and he was it. An answer to a question, if he was still human, he had obtained. He was different: his biology, mind, and body changed yet similar.
A difference he accepted, undeterred by stubborn existential thoughts. Accepting himself, of who he had become, a sensation from long ago arising. An ability to enter and exit the Void voluntarily. It had always been there, buried in trauma, deep within, under lock and key.
After days of suffering and uncertainties, trapped within thoughts of differences and emotions of hatred, he had found himself again. A friend he once thought scary, now embracing him like his father and Amelia. Like he previously did to Alice. He once again had a family.
He awoke from the Void, his eyes shooting open and gazing upon reality. Leaving the bed, his chest still and unmoving, like a corpse, as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. Staring at himself, accepting all his flaws.... his perfections, he stared into his eyes. They had changed, the iris, dark orange, flickering with flames and figures, souls trapped within. The sclera and pupil were dark, black even like the Void, light unable to diffuse on it but absorbed into obscurity, trapped for eternity. Veins running throughout his body were as shadowy as the night, the gloom barely noticeable within pure bright light.
His face was blank, devoid of any semblance of emotion, the changes unconcerning him. Accepting them unconditionally, he got dressed, the light of Sol shining through thin glass. Mark looked upon his appearance, smiling and nodding his head.
Exiting his quarters, he strolled through the hallways and out of the building, with barely anyone inside. Contrary to indoors, outside was packed. Sleek helicopters came and went like boats to a harbour, aid in quantity arriving.
Ignoring the wide-eyed stares, most from soldiers anew, but some from residents who gawked at his abyssal eyes of fire, terror lingering within. He flew into the air, heading towards the remains of the administration building.
Seeking Barak, he moved above the floor, through hallways and reception to the control room. Barak's voice was heard as soon as he exited the residential building, projecting himself to his subordinates, commanding them. Passing through the broken entrance; repairs already started, he disregarded the alarmed gazes.
Spotting the floating Mark, descending towards him, the suited man spoke warily, "You... You ok, Mark?" The words appeared on a screen, likely prepared by a console controller.
Placing himself next to the slender figure, he paused for a moment, "... I... feel great. Like a man reborn. Anyways, enough about me, you got anything? Plans or something?"
"Are you certain? Your eyes... they're... how to put this nicely... terrifying?"
Lightly chuckling as he read the sentence, Mark replied with slight amusement, "And yours are not? You should get some sleep, Barak! Lest your eyes turn into mine."
As Mark spoke, he tried an experiment, spreading the underlying force from the Void to cover everyone in the room. He grimaced, apprehensive emotional states transmitted to his mind. Yet, despite the discomfort, he lightly smiled.
Worriedly smiling, unsure what to make of the comment and Mark's sudden grimace, Barak decided to move on, "Well, your family's funeral. The date has moved up slightly. It's two days away on Friday, the 8th. As for what you do over the coming week, I'm unsure. The Cabinet are in disarray. They should have had an emergency meeting by now, but if not, then, in the next few hours. Either way, we'll know by the end of tomorrow, at the latest."
His black pupils traced the lines, responding, "Two days? That's good. I'm looking forward to my... unveiling? Entrance? You get what I mean."
Barak frowned, a clear difference in demeanour and confidence disturbing him, "Yeahh... you'll be fine. Though, at the moment, you look kind of... intimidating? You need to be portrayed as friendly; your eyes don't give that off."
"Nothing I can do about that." Mark shrugged, having the idea to try probing the suited man. It was blurry and distorted as a mixture of emotions and thoughts. It was strange. His usage was unrefined and clumsy, but it gave him hope. He supposed it a form of telepathy or telekinesis. Perhaps Fatima had been right in her conjectures. Either way, it opened a possibility to overcome his current ear dilemma, "They'll just have to accept it. I won't change for the sake of fluctuating public opinion. I... also can't."
His brows still furrowed, concern lacing his words, the stillness of Mark's chest further unnerving him, "You're positive you are fine? You seem... different. Did something happen?"
Sighing, "No. I'm fine. I'm presuming it's a change related to my differing biology."
Responding with his own sigh and handing Mark a tablet tiredly, "Ok, ok. You should go check in on Jenny. She's in medical ward 1B. I'll come find you when the Cabinet have relayed their stance."
Taking the tablet, he responded with simple thanks and floated out of the main building. Becoming comfortable with floating his next goal would be the equivalent of jogging. Usage of the 'muscle' wasn't complicated, just tiring. Presumably, exercising it would make it stronger and more enduring.
Launching himself into the air, his speed a blur, he shot down in front of the battered northern building, abruptly stopping a short distance from the ground. Landing, he entered within and searched for ward 1B.
Unable to find it in short order, he asked a passing soldier. The man was slightly timid, fear hidden within, yet noticeable by the slight shaking. Clearly an aid worker, but he got the directions he wanted.
Finding the ward, he went inside, spotting Jenny standing with crutches, the room quiet. He approached her casually, smiling at the cheerful middle-aged woman.
"Look at you! As if nothing happened." Mark cheered, announcing his presence as he awaited her response to register on the tablet.
Laughing as he stood before her, Jenny responded as she glanced at her wound, "Of course! The wonders of modern medicine, well, the wonders of Eneph anyway. Nothing that an E-Pill can't fix up. Although, I'll still be doing light activity for a few weeks."
"Indeed, praise be to Eneph. So nothing serious then?"
"Yeah, I'll be back in action in no time. I'm guessing... that your eyes changed colour for a reason?" She spoke, the eye change being glaringly obvious at first glance.
Shaking his head, "Well, I'm not exactly normal anymore. Its strange people are more afraid of my eyes than my power. One is just appearance; the other could easily kill them."
"People fear what they do not understand. Your power is hidden, and flight isn't particularly terrifying. Your eyes though... they're like an abyss; demonic. It's noticeable, and they will elicit a reaction not dissimilar if you decided to just throw a tank into the sky."
"Hmm, I suppose when you put it that way, it makes sense."
"Well, you do also look like a devil." She joked, limping toward him, her voice hushed, "Enough of the jokes. I have something urgent to speak about. If you don't mind?"
Silently chuckling before following her sceptically, they went into an empty side room filled with barren shelves.
Turning to face him, she spoke abruptly in a whispered voice, "We've been betrayed."
Mark paused for a moment, his facial expression stoic as he stared solemnly at the screen, "I would say that's a bit drastic. The scientists put the information onto computers; they could've easily been hacked into."
"It's not drastic, Mark. And keep your voice down. The walls have ears. And the information was stored on a separate setup, even for America, I'd be hard pushed to believe they could do that."
"So, you're suggesting someone ratted on us?"
"Yes. I got the report; a giant guy used a sound device on you, and it's why you're deaf, right? Well, that information must've been leaked by someone. There were what, seven or eight people in the room?"
Frowning, "But I never explicitly stated my hearing was enhanced-"
Interrupting him, "You did. You said the intercom was too loud. You even winced slightly; Fatima noticed... we all did. The implication was clear."
"So, who are you suggesting?" Mark said, his tone grave and exasperated.
"I don't like to say this. But... I think it's Barak."