Renegade

Chapter 15

     Benedict stumbled into a bar, it was night, his head buzzing from the effects of the serum. His eyesight was blurred, his mouth felt dry, and his overall attitude was sour. It wasn't until he sat at the bar that Ben fully realized what he had done.

     He had gone to a man, in the middle of the woods, and gotten an injection.

     "What...the...hell," Ben breathed, slumping onto the bar table.

     "You look like you could use something strong," the bartender commented, drying a glass cup with a towel.

     Ben sat up, "Give me your strongest."

     The bartender nodded and went away. Ben was left in silence.

     The surrounding room was small, dark, cramp, and smelled like old peanuts. A couple of drunks were playing darts in one corner, and a third man was passed out in another. Various pictures of random bar-esque things hung on the walls. Ben swallowed and grimaced as he felt his throat tighten with some pain: he had a sore throat.

     "Enjoy," the bartender simply stated, sliding Ben a small glass of something brown.

     Ben gulped the concoction, and his insides burned from the liquid. His sore throat was blasted away with the powerful stab from the liquor. The world around him softened a bit, and Ben was able to slightly relax.

     "Hey..." someone breathed.

     Ben looked up as one of the drunkards stumbled towards him. He smelled terrible, his eyes were glossed over, and in his hand he carried an empty glass. The man slumped over onto Ben, who hurriedly pushed him off.

     "What's the matter, pretty-boy?" the drunkard wheezed, stumbling back. "Your manners off tonight?"

     His speech was slurred, and his voice sounded like it was in a daze. Ben averted his gaze and sipped his own drink once more.

     "Something wrong?" the drunkard pried, coming closer to Ben. "Did the wife kick you out?"

     Ben didn't answer, but he did tense up a little at the mention of his wife.

     "Women..." the drunkard chuckled, slumping to his right, "they're all bitc--"

     Ben shot up and grabbed the man's shirt. He knocked the glass out of his hand and it shattered to the floor.

     "Hey!" the bartender shouted, noticing the commotion. "Break it up!"

     Ben relaxed, his anger subsiding as he slid back into his chair. The drunkard smiled like an old fool, as he continued to interrogate:

     "That's it? Right? Your wife's nothing but a little--"

     Ben's body flew out of the chair and shoved the drunkard to the ground.

     "Don't you finish that sentence you piece of shit!" Ben howled, his anger igniting inside of him like a lively flame.

     Ben pulled the drunk up and punched him square in the jaw. The man's head went lopsided, and Ben cursed as he shoved the man onto the table.

     "Get off of him!" the man's friend yelled, stumbling forward.

     He punched Ben in the face, his fist colliding straight with his nose. There was a disgusting crack, white-hot pain, disorientation, and Ben took a step backwards in a daze. Blood poured out of his nose like a fountain, and he instinctively grabbed it with both of his hands.

     The pain intensified, until it suddenly subsided. His nose adjusted itself, cracking back into place, and then the fountain of blood abruptly ended as everything regenerated. Ben's vision cleared, and his emotion took control.

     "You son of a bitch!" he spat, slugging the other man in the face.

     His body was thrown up and across the bar table. It slid over dozens of glasses and sent entire bottles shattering to the floor. The first man pulled himself together, but Ben grabbed a glass and smashed it over his head. He crumbled to the ground unconscious, while the other didn't move for a long time. Ben stretched his shoulders, and he stepped over the bodies of the unconscious men. Even the bartender was silent as he grudgingly walked out of the room.

     An eerie atmosphere accompanied the renegade as he went out into the unknown.

**

     Ben stumbled through the streets, his head beginning to throb even more. Everything around him seemed extremely distorted. Shadows stretched into the oblivion, the darkness went on forever, voices sounded from all around him. Ben slumped against a wall as he neared the unconscious.

     A group of obnoxious twenty-somethings came up around him, obviously mistaking him for a drunk. The mocked him, surrounded him, and they beat him. One punched him in the gut while the others laughed, a second kicked him in the leg so that he stumbled. Ben's vision was all over the place, so he could barely even see their identities.

     "Take his wallet!" one suggested.

     Ben had a flashback to his childhood. He remembered the gang, and his brother.

     The feelings took control of him.

     He lashed out at one, feeling the bones crunch underneath the skin. One pulled out a knife, and Ben instinctively grabbed it while slamming him into the wall. With the knife, he stabbed a third member in the chest and could see the blood pool around him like a pond. It was dark, thick, and it looked black in the late evening dusk. The rest of the members ran away, shouting in fear.

     Ben stood with three dead bodies around him. Hot, sickly, slimy blood dripped from his hands and from the glistening tip of the knife blade. He dropped the weapon, and it clattered to the ground.

     "Fuck..." Ben whispered, realizing what he'd done.

     He ran off into the night, not knowing where to go. His instincts drove him, like a predator.

**

     Ben collapsed on the side of the road, his insides feeling like hot soup. He vomited onto the sidewalk before going unconscious. The rest of his memories were a jumbled mess of him running around, walking like a mad man through the streets, and oddly talking to himself. 

     The serum had turned him into a monster. 

**

Far Away...

     A mysterious man placed his gas mask on a table, staring at a set of coordinates scrawled on a piece of paper. The numbers indicated where he was to meet with his clients, and he knew they were going to be extremely pleased with the results of his mission.