Chapter 2

Flames To Remember

CHRIS DEL FEREO’S MEMORY….3 MONTHS AGO…

A fist exploded in the pit of Chris Del Fereo’s stomach causing him to cough and spit as he fell to his knees. He was a member of a nefarious street gang called “Scorchmen”. He was surrounded by his fellow gang members, about 50 juvenile delinquents, all forming a circular human wall between him and a 6ft 7inch redhead with a beard. The redhead was 90Kg and looked in his late 20s approaching close to 30 years of age. He was well built boasting a body that did a lot of gym. The gang cheered and raised their hands in the air as Chris del Fereo dropped to his knees from being punched in the stomach by the man. This man went by the alias “ The Scorchman” ,the leader of the “Scorchmen”. The location was somewhere in an abandoned warehouse in the outskirts of the Industrial zone of Kingsway, a state bordering Trinix to the north.

“Film this…” Scorchman ordered one of the gang members standing on an elevated platform. The gang member wearing a facemask was holding a production quality camera with high definition resolution, nodded and said, “scorch productions is ready to go boss.”

Scorchman turned towards Chris who was still aching and squealing from the pain of the punch to his stomach. Compared to Scorchman, Chris was a scrawny build, weak looking, the polar opposite of the hulking gang leader.

“I’m about to make a statement. You are going to be that message to all the rookies who think of snitching,” Scorchman said as he walked toward Chris. Chris backed away until his back reached the human fence of gang members who pushed him back at Scorchman who kneed him to his stomach at the same point he had punched him before, causing Chris to drop first to his knees and fell sideways to the cement floor curling up in pain and screaming. It was dusk at 6pm in the evening. Chris thought he was minutes away from a brutal end to his not-so-fulfilling life. His teary eyes reflected the single light bulb suspended by a wire on a metal beam running across the roof of the warehouse as he watched Scorchman walk up to him and mounted on top of him, pinning him to the ground. Scorchman turned his gaze and looked at the camera filming the entire violent spectacle.

“You see this bitch here?” Scorchman talked to the camera while staring at it and pointing at Chris pinned under him by his weight.

“This bitch here is a snitch. Had some of our guys killed coz he squealed about our activities to our enemies, and we scorchmen have a saying….” Scorchman continued, then he raised his hand and waved at the rest of surrounding gang whose faces were concealed by facemasks.

“A SCORCHMAN DIES BEFORE THEY CAN SNITCH!” shouted the entirety of the gang.

Scorchman turned to look at the pinned down squealing Chris whose hands had already instinctively moved to a guarded stance, crossed into an “X” guarding his face.

“You snitched…and you are still breathing,” Scorchman hissed wickedly at Chris.

The whole gang started shouting and chanting

“ FUCK HIM UP! …..FUCK HIM UP! ….FUCK HIM UP!”

It echoed in the entire warehouse.

Scorchman reached with his left hand at Chris’ unguarded neck and choked him, forcing Chris to stop guarding his face with is both hands and held Scorchman’s left hand, trying to fight for his survival. Scorchman’s face formed an evil smile seeing Chris’ futile struggle for survival and his free right hand clenched into a fist. He proceeded to punch Chris’ unguarded face repeatedly until blood started coming out of Chris’ nose and his mouth, he had a black eye due to getting punched repeatedly, his resistance was failing, his vision was getting blurred, clouded by his own blood and tears. The noises around him were all blurring out, the only sharp sounds he could hear were the impacts of Scorcher’s fist connecting to his already disfigured face like a sledgehammer digging into a brick. Chris’ face was fully stained red with his own blood. Scorchman got off from Chris and walked towards a red plastic container full of fuel. He picked it up and walked towards Chris who was curled on the cement floor, hurting from the brutal pounding.

“BUUURN HIM! BUUURN HIM! BUUURN HIM!”

the whole gang shouted.

“You hear that?” Scorchman spoke menacingly at Chris.

“That’s the reason we are called ‘The Scorchmen’….we always finish our business by our trademark arson …loose ends y’know? No evidence, no Implication, no court-cases, only ashes, they’ll say you committed suicide by burning yourself, after all, ‘scorch-men’ would rather die than betray their comrades, isn’t that our creed?”

“So…this is how it ends, huh?” Chris thought to himself in his mind as his gaze slid up towards the ceiling of the warehouse. His vision blurred and red with his own blood, blurred noises of curse words echoing in his ears from his fellow gang members.

Scorchman began to slowly open the fuel container, relishing what he was about to do. As he nearly uncorked the container, he felt a chilling icy cold streak flowing down his spinal cord that startled him and made his hairs stand up.

“What is this?!” Scorchman thought to himself in his mind as he tried to calm himself from this odd feeling that he couldn’t explain where it was coming from. He had never felt this kind of chill run down his spine in his entire life. His gaze stopped staring the red fuel container he was uncorking and scanned around the room , looking at his cheering gang minions.

As his eyes scanned around his gang minions, they suddenly came to a halt at the entrance of the warehouse. A shadowy silhouette of a man stood at the entrance of the warehouse. He felt a cold chilling presence coming from a man standing at the entrance of the warehouse. He turned and looked at the dark silhouette of a man dressed in some kind of coat. No one could make out how the man looked from that distance, they could only see the silhouette of what looked like a man dressed in a faux fur coat with white furry collar.

“Who the fuck are you?” Scorchman snapped at the mysterious man standing at the entrance. The noise climate plummeted as the whole gang went silent. The scorchmen gang turned and gazed at the silhouette of the mysterious man standing at the entrance. Scorchman slowly closed the lid of the fuel container, lowered it to the floor and began strolling towards the man at the entrance. The circular human gang fence broke to give way to their leader. Chris who had given up all hope of getting out of there alive wondered what had interrupted his would-be murderer. His vision, though still blurry could make out the crowds of his fellow gang members giving way to Scorchman and saw an unknown man standing at the entrance of the warehouse in silence. Chris wondered to himself who the man at the entrance was. This was a remote section of Kingsway abandoned Industrial zone. It was a police “no-go” zone. No member of Deilton Investigative or Enforcement Unit dared to come to this place, much less civilians. They never even came close to it. They avoided it like one avoids a radioactive zone. It was a zone where all manner of inhuman carnage took place. If anyone wanted to do some nefarious activities, then Kingsway abandoned Industrial zone would be the most ideal location. And yet, there stood a man, unfettered, one could even argue that the stranger was relaxed even.

The mysterious man who was leaning at a frame on the entrance stopped leaning and began strolling towards Scorchman who was startled at the sight of the silhouette comfortably walking towards him, coming into the lighting radius range of the ceiling hanging light, revealing a middle-aged man with blood red irises and well-kept short glossy hair of alternating strands of silver and black with shaved facial hair. His height was about 6ft 1 inch, 6 inches shorter than Scorchman. Scorchman, looking at the stature and build of this well dressed eccentric-looking middle-aged man emboldened him and he chuckled menacingly as he glared at the middle-aged man. This man was Vyker.

“Scorchmen, we have “COLLATERAL” Scorchman sneered as he signalled his hand at Vyker and laughed and so did his entire gang of scorch-men follow through with their jeers.

“You have a really bad stroke of luck to have come here, we scorchmen are not known for leaving any witnesses,” Scorchman leered. Vyker stopped about an arm’s length from Scorchman and glared at him from the sole his shoes to his red hair over his head and chuckled.

“What’s funny bitch?!” Scorchman snapped at Vyker, failing to comprehend how could this middle-aged man be so relaxed, condescending even with the way he looked at him. Scorchman thought to himself in his mind.This middle aged man was standing before the leader of one of the most ruthless, murderous gangs in all of Deilburg and yet he was so calm, collected. This man had to be out of his mind, he had to be mentally-ill, he needed to be brought back to reality about what predicament he was in. He needed to be taught the meaning of “fear”, he needed to be reminded what it felt like to fear for one’s life.

Scorchman failed to contain his anger at Vyker’s condescending mug and threw a punch at Vyker’s left cheek connecting cleanly into the jaws, forcing Vyker’s head to turn to the right due to the impact of Scorchman’s fist.

“Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu,”

The whole gang shouted as they watched the punch make fall into Vyker’s left cheek.

“Daaaaaaaaaaamn that must have hurt” said one of the members of the scorchmen from within the crowd.

But Scorchman's facial expression slowly began to pale as his eyes widened with a mixture of disbelief and shock at what he just saw. He was an experienced brawler who had been through many gang fights and he knew well the difference in strength and experience when it came down to fighting. But this middle-aged man defied his expectations. Scorchman had punched a lot of people in his life and he was confident in his weight and power and speed of his fist and he was certain that no human on the surface of the human world could shake off the impact of his punch when it connected cleanly like it was nothing. There simply was no such human, he had exercised a lot in the gym and was very confident in his physique and fighting prowess. His fighting prowess, power and speed rivalled that of fully trained military elites. Even a trained commando would at the very least flinch if Scorchman’s fist connected cleanly. But this middle aged man defied all reason and logic, for he neither flinched nor fell to the ground nor did he show any signs of hurt, if anything, it was as if he had been slapped by a woman, and a weak one at that. Even the fact of the man’s face being forced to turn to the right was questionable. Never in his life had Scorchman felt a human so sturdy, it was almost as if he wasn’t made of flesh and bones. The middle-aged man didn’t even make any sounds or grunts or moans of being hurt, he was eerily silent and this reaction began to frighten Scorchman as he felt uncertainty pour into the depths of his heart, mixed in with fear of the unknown.

Vyker, with his head still turned to the right supposedly from the impact of the punch, did not return his head back to face his aggressor. With his right hand, he felt the place where the fist had connected and scanned his jaw and cheek with his right hand, gazing at it with his left eye looking down at his own left cheek as his hand scanned the left side of his face before his lips formed into a smile and the blood red gaze rose from his left cheek to his aggressor. “HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA!”

Vyker let out a cold chilling laughter that was so inhuman and loud that it completely caused the ambient sonic climate around him to plummet into a deathly pin-drop silence, sending shivers down the spine of every human in the warehouse except himself, forcing them to tremble uncontrollably from instinctual fear.

Vyker stepped forward at Scorchman until their torsos almost bumped and he tilted his head up, looked into the eyes of the 6ft 7inch leader of the Scorchmen.

“What’s so funny, you ask?”Vyker said in a calm yet cold and dominating voice.

Suddenly, a fist exploded into the pit of Scorchman’s stomach, forcing him to cough up blood and fall to his knees. No one saw it coming. The fist had connected so fast into Scorchman’s stomach that no one saw the anticipatory animation of the fist cocking back before launching forth to hit it’s abdominal mark. It had all happened in a flash. Scorchman’s facial expression paled and morphed into a state of utter shock and horror and abject fear as his lips were red with his own coughed blood. He knew he had really fucked up this time as he wondered to himself. Who the fuck was this middle aged eccentric freak? Was he even human? What kind of human had such speed, such terrifying presence? He could not believe that less than 5 minutes ago he had looked down on this being and considered him as “collateral” and had intended to kill him along with Chris. Had he known what calibre of apex predator this being was, that he was possibly above the human food chain, he would have simply kept his silence and not dared provoke this man in any way. What was this being doing here anyway? What did this being want?

“You humans have a saying, ‘do not wound what you can’t kill’, true?” Vyker spoke calmly. The middle-aged man was right, scorchman, having a lot of street-fighting experience knew the laws of the streets one-o-one “never pick fights you can’t win”. He had miscalculated and now he was in serious trouble, he was kneeling before a true apex predator above the natural food chain.

“W-w-who….a-are…..y-y-you…s-s-sir?” Scorchman asked in a timid tone that none of his gang had ever heard. None of his gang had seen this side of Scorchman, even against bosses of other gangs. Scorchman was always known to be arrogant, conceited, overconfident, unruly and feisty. But this was the first time they had seen this side of their boss whose eyes were clearly shaking with abject terror on his fear-induced pale face. Vyker did not answer the question, he walked past Scorchman and came to Chris and gazed into his eyes. Chris trembled as his gaze met Vyker’s. That was their first encounter. Vyker squatted down and looked at Chris’s blood stained face and offered his hand and spoke.

“I can leave you here and you can meet your end at the hands of these pitiful, pathetic humans or I can turn you into something more. The call is yours to make”

“I’ll give you two choices. You take my hand, and you leave everything behind and start a clean slate…. Or…. reject my offer and I’ll take my leave… and the Scorchman can pick up where he left off ….. filming a footage of himself murdering you,” Vyker continued with a calm smile.

In that instant, Vyker felt strange smelling liquid pouring over him, wetting him and his entire attire.

Scorchman having mustered what little courage he had left in him and taking advantage of the seemingly distracted middle-aged man, emptied the entire fuel container unto Vyker and took out his lighter. Vyker calmly and slowly stood up and deeply sighed as he turned towards Scorchman who had already ignited his lighter. The entire gang of scorchmen gazed with anticipation at their boss who had taken advantage of the brief opening to gain the upper hand and pour gasoline unto his opponent.

“NEVER TURN YOUR BACK IN A STREETFIGHT! NEVER TURN YOUR BACK ON A SCORCHMAN! TAKE THAT LESSON TO HELL FUCKER!” Scorchman shouted at the top his lungs as he threw the ignited lighter unto Vyker’s wet and flammable attire, instantly igniting the humanoid being into a human torch. Scorchman gave Vyker the middle finger, sticked his tongue out and wagged it. Scorchman proceeded to brag at the top of his lungs at Vyker.

“THAT’S WHAT YOU GET FOR FUCKING WITH THE SCORCHMAN! YOUR MAMA SHOULD HAVE TAUGHT YOU NOT TO PLAY WITH FIRE! I DON’T KNOW WHO THE FUCK YOU ARE! BUT THERE IS NO WAY YOU ARE SURVIVING THA-!”

Scorch-man had not finished his bragging when he was interrupted by an inhumane laughter.

“Huhuhu….Huhuhuhu……HuHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA!”

Vyker let out an otherworldly metallic cold laughter from within the burning flames that had enveloped his entire silhouette. The laughter completely shattered the broken glass window panes of the warehouse into smithereens, paralyzing everyone around him in a state of frozen trembling terror from head to toe. Vyker’s voice changed into a completely otherworldly, metallic high pitched and croaky voice. Scorch-man gazed at the flaming being in abject horror, defying all reason and logic, thinking to himself. This being was laughing while on fire. This being showed no signs of feeling any burning pain. Clearly this wasn’t a human. No human could laugh while being set on fire. They would scream their lungs out in pain! And yet this being, if anything, was toying with him, letting him do as he pleased before it was his turn to act.

“Tsk-Tsk-Tsk-Tsk…Such Audacity… You don’t seem to realize your predicament” spoke Vyker in that cold metallic otherworldly voice.

“It’s unfortunate that you are too arrogant for your own good. You would have made an excellent Prymer if I had chosen you. Humans don’t seem to be very good at learning their lessons.”

VOOOOOFFFF!

Suddenly the flames that had completely covered his silhouette burst out and turned into an aura of burning mirage and reddish embers that clad his humanoid figure as they came off from his attire and being, leaving him completely unscathed. Scorch-man gazed in horror at his adversary who had been lit on fire yet the flames ate neither at his attire nor his being. The embers flew off from his being and spread across the warehouse, reached onto the walls and ceiling of the entire warehouse, ignited into flames upon immediate contact with the warehouse surface structure, instantly lighting the entire warehouse up in an infernal pyre within and without, blocking all possible exists in walls of supernaturally hot, crimson flames. The entire scorch-men gang were cornered around by the supernatural flames. Scorch-man gazed in horror at Vyker, unable to conceal his expression, frozen in fear as his gang panicked and scattered around the warehouse, looking for an opening but they couldn’t find any. The member of the scorch-men gang who was filming the entire scene dropped the expensive production camera to the ground in panic, damaging it and attempted to jump through the crimson inferno wall, hoping to emerge on the outside side of the warehouse where he could proceed to put out the flames but as his humanoid figure came into mid-air contact with those infernal flames, the scorching element instantly corroded through his skin, devoured his attire, flesh and charred his bones to a jet black skeletal burnt mannequin, emerged on the outside of the flaming wall with a plop to the ground, breaking into burnt soot skeletal pieces. The other scorch-men gang members watched the horrifying spectacle of their fellow’s attempted escape. It was clear that attempting to brave the flames was futile, for these flames were no ordinary flames, just as the one who made them was no ordinary being. One lick from that supernatural pyro and it would be all over for whoever was unfortunate enough to come into contact with it.

“I was going to let you live, but it appears you humans never learn your lesson,” Vyker spoke in an otherworldly voice tone; he raised his left arm up in the air and snapped his fingers. From the flaming walls, flaming fiery skulls made of the otherworldly flames, the size of an adult human skull, oozed out of the walls and detached from them. The skulls empty fiery eye sockets began to manifest forth fiery eyeballs and the fiery jaws began to move into a state of open mouth. The fiery skulls flew around the warehouse tearing through concrete walls like butter, leaving fiery holes in the concrete structure, burning through the human gang, charring them into broken burnt fallen pieces of skeletal mannequins as their dying, pained screams filled the night air, until only Scorch-man, the leader of the gang was left alone, trembling at the demonic sight before him. The flaming skulls turned and faced Scorchman’s direction and began zeroing in towards him when Vyker gestured his left hand, causing the fiery skulls to disintegrate into a gaseous mixture of mirage and embers.

Vyker ignored Scorch-man, turned and looked at Chris Del Fereo.

“You haven’t given me my answer yet human,” Vyker calmly spoke to Chris whose mouth was wide agape with horror as he stared at what felt like a scene from some hellish realm. A being who could easily snuff out human life with a snap of his fingers was giving him an offer and a choice. And knowing that the person who was about murder him on film was the initial choice and that his arrogance was the only thing that denied him the offer, the Irony of fate had played jackpot into his hands, to live to see another day.

For a brief moment Chris’ gaze did not look directly at Vyker but the 6ft 7inch man behind him. Vyker, having noticed that the 2 humans were staring at each other with him in between, stepped aside and let their gazes properly connect to each other, one tall human in a state of abject terror mirrored in the irises of one young and average human lying on his belly on the ground gazing back at him with a face of abject determination to turn the tables, eyes that realized what was given him should he accept the offer. Their physical, emotional and mental states mirrored oppositely in that state of frozen irony.

“The Clock is ticking Del Fereo, I am not known for my patienc-” Vyker had not finished his statement when Chris had raised his hand while still in his grounded state.

“Your offer!...I’m taking it,” Chris Del Fereo asserted with a vengeful tone as he stared into Scorch-man’s horrified and yet angry expression. Vyker’s blood red gaze locked into Chris’ for a few seconds of silence before his lips curved into a smile and his irises glowed with a reddish glow that gave off a reddish light in that flaming warehouse.

“Hahahaha…Well played Del Fereo, huhu, uhahaha, ahahahahahahahaaa, well….played,” said Vyker, whose voice had morphed from calm and human-like to metallic otherworldly as he slowly turned his glowing red gaze away from Chris and towards Scorch-man who knew things were not boding well for him. Scorch-man, who was trembling visibly in terror pressured himself to think quickly as thoughts raced inside his mind. This man was clearly not human, attacking him was akin to suicide, the warehouse was up in flames and smoke was beginning to fill in the air. Death was around the corner but there had to be something he could do to save himself. Something he could do; something he could figure out. He thought this to himself when an idea struck him. Scorch-man looked at Chris in desperation. Chris was wounded, badly even, but scorch-man was still in a not-so-bad a shape although he had coughed up quite some blood. Since the middle-aged eccentric freak chose Chris, what if he could somehow use Chris as a hostage? Then he would live by default because the freak would not want anything bad to happen to the man he made an offer to. With these thoughts in mind, scorch-man collected what little courage he had left and steeled himself to supress his trembling and broke his stance into an instant sprint. He was going to ignore the middle-aged man and grab the man who was given an offer, the middle-aged man would have to negotiate the bargain by letting him live. Chris was helping himself up to his feet when his gaze caught the sprinting boss of the scorch-men murderously sprinting past Vyker who didn’t seem to be bothered by the fact that the human gang boss had ignored him and was going to attempt to grab the man who accepted his offer.

“YOU ARE MINE! CHRIS!” Scorch-man yelled in maniacal desperation as his left hand reached into the back pocket of his jeans while he sprinted and pulled out a switchblade. Scorch-man jumped with his entire weight at Chris, hoping to pin him to the ground, but while in mid-air jump, he received a powerful uppercut to his lower jaw, breaking his mid-air trajectory and balance, twirling out of control, falling on his stomach to the ground, further coughing some blood. He had not seen the uppercut coming. He had not seen anyone even between himself and his would-be victim, Chris. Who on earth had the physical strength to stop his 90Kg mid-air leap trajectory with a mere uppercut? There was no way the scrawny Chris could pull a counter attack that strong. Is there any human being on the human world who even had the strength to stop a 90Kg trajectory weight coming towards them at high speed in mid-air with a single hand? Scorch-man, while still lying on his stomach turned his head to look behind him where Chris was standing a few steps from him. The middle-aged man was standing at the exact position where Scorch-man’s trajectory was broken with his knuckles stained with Scorch-man’s blood.

“Tenacious to the very end, aren’t you?”Vyker spoke coldy as his blood red glowing gaze met Scorch-man’s trembling irises, thinking to himself. Of course, it had to be this inhuman freak. Who else could it be that could accomplish that uppercut feat? He thought he could take Chris hostage and live but that option was now impossible now that the freak had stepped in.

“L-l-look …C-Chris…I-I’m s-sorry …j-jus tell t-this g-guy t-to let me g-g-” Scorch-man was appealing to Chris’ sense of pity when suddenly he received a kick to his face, causing him to roll around the floor in pain. He had not even noticed Vyker moving before he received the blow. His face was now stained red with his own blood.

“Such audacity…what made you think your survival depended on his forgiveness?” Vyker coldly spoke again as he watched scorch-man roll around the floor grunting in pain with both his hands covering face.

“Even if he forgives you, but I wasn’t planning to let you live, not after your insolence,” Vyker continued as he strolled towards him and stood astride him, preventing him from rolling around with his legs. He kneeled with his left leg and reached for Scorch-man’s neck with his left hand, choking him. Scorch-man immediately stopped protecting his face and with both arms attempted to remove Vyker’s choking arm but the middle-aged man was superhumanly strong.

“You call yourself ‘The Scorch-man’, isn’t that right?” Vyker hissed at scorch-man as his grip tightened around the human’s neck.

“Did you think you were going to die easy by being choked to death?” Vyker continued as he brought forth his right free hand over Scorch-man’s face. His entire palm and fingers glowed red hot and radiated a mirage heat that caused scorch-man to scream in pain. Chris, from his distance could feel the distinctive scorching heat from Vyker’s right palm that was different from the heat of the burning warehouse.

“By Scorching you lived, therefore by scorching you die,” Vyker finished as he branded and stamped his red hot palm on to Scorch-man’s face that felt like being touched with hot iron. Scorch-man’s face melted out on immediate contact with Vyker’s palm like butter as the scorching hand sunk into his profusely bleeding and melting facial flesh until only his skull remained. Blood continued to fountain out of Scorch-man’s dead body as Vyker stood back up and turned to face Chris and spoke, “It is done”

Chris Del Fereo, now called ‘Chryder’ snapped back to his present reality from deep memory of his first encounter with Vyker.