Renegade

Chapter 16

     He went back to the abandoned factory, and Ben sat in the same place he had been confronted by the Silver Assassin. The structure was cold, uninviting, and seemed to be haunted in a way. But it was like a home to Ben, who had nowhere else to go.

     Ben stumbled to the ground, breathing heavily as sweat dripped down his face. The blood of his victims dried on his hands and gave him the sensation of wearing gloves. His blood boiled, and it pumped through his ears like a thunderous train. Dark circles enveloped his vision before he completely passed out.

**

     He woke up in pain.

     His body trembled with even the slightest of movements, and his face was smashed into the concrete.

     "Oh...shit...," Ben groaned, sitting up and trying to blink away his blurred vision.

     Everything was too bright, and it gave him the sense of a hangover. Carefully, he got to his feet and slumped against the nearest wall. His hand fell flat along the cool surface, and he oddly felt an indentation in the material.

     He turned his head, trying to swallow a bad taste in his mouth, and focused his eyes on what was right in front of him. The wall was cracked, withered, and worn but there was something else. On the concrete wall, scratched into its very surface, were a series of numbers.  There was no way the numbers could've been there before, otherwise he would've noticed them. Had it appeared while he was unconscious?

     Inscribed into the concrete, underneath the series of numbers, were the words:

     "Follow your destiny. You have 23 hours and 15 minutes to complete your journey."

     Ben shook his head, thinking that he might be hallucinating. The numbers were very real, however, and their cryptic message was intriguing. He looked away, trying to settle his senses. For hours he lay there, letting his mind wander and the numbers fester in his head. Ben didn't even reflect on his new-found powers because there were simply more important things on his mind. The powers were just a tool to him, and they were to be used as such.

     Eventually, his strength returned, the feeling of a hangover faded, and all that was left were the numbers.

     They were delicately carved into the concrete with a crude precision. Each number looked as if it had taken hours to make, and Ben was transfixed by its grotesque beauty. He plugged the numbers into a search engine. They were coordinates, but they weren't just any coordinates. The numbers specifically led to an old, mysterious, warehouse outside of Los Angeles.

     There was no way the numbers were just random. Ben contemplated what it could all mean, but he put his instincts aside. Maybe, although it was out there, it was a message of some kind. Ben thought it over, but he dismissed the idea as wishful thinking.

     But, what if it wasn't?

     His journey had led him to a strange man in a gas mask, an ancient stone of untold power, and the acquiring of regenerative abilities. At the end of the day, cryptic messages telling him where to go were not that far out of the newly-established norm. Ben began to think, and a ludicrous idea began to take shape in his head.  

     Regeneration made dying a little harder than it usual. There was absolutely nothing to lose: Ben had no family, no friends, and infinite lives. 

     Besides, did he really have any other options? 

**

One Day Later...