Three Days Later

17th December 1941 --- New York City

Servants were running around the Armstrong Estate, placing black ribbons wherever they could find even a bit of white.

Betty was in her private quarters, slumped on a fluffy couch as the servants brought her breakfast.

Of course, like always, she refused to eat the meals but she still appreciated the effort nonetheless.

She was staring at the ceiling for the third day in a row, hoping to glean some answers from the great beyond.

At first, she tried smoking all the cigarettes she could to calm her mind, but when that didn’t work, she turned to the stronger stuff Tyrone recommended – weed.

And as it turned out… the occasional weed had become the best decision she ever made in her life…

Just another one of the reasons Tyrone would be dearly missed.

Still, even as she smoked futuristic drugs, Betty was in a state of absolute pain and heartbreak.

Three days ago, the unthinkable happened causing Tyrone and Anthony to pass away unexpectedly.

From initial observations, it appeared that the ambulance exploded due to a malfunction with the engine, but Betty had an aching suspicion that the situation wasn’t so simple.

How often do a terrorist attack and an explosion happen on the same day?

Yet, what could she possibly say as a woman in the 1940s?

She may be white, and that was a blessing, but she was also a woman…

Honestly, Betty was just thankful that her late husband’s former friends fought for her to keep the Estate and all her wealth.

After all, it wasn’t unusual for a bogus bastard son to suddenly appear and take the Estate and all the wealth from women at this time.

“Fuck!” Betty cursed, reaching to her eyes to wipe away the moisture of tears but she found no tears… she had cried all she could, and now dying from dry eyes was a likely possibility.

Had it been Tyrone who died, she could stomach the loss with a little mourning…

Tyrone was a wonderful friend and they had grown close for the two weeks she got to know him, but still, Tyrone wasn’t fucking her so she didn’t feel that much loss at his death.

However, Anthony’s death really made her age a couple of years… Anthony had been her husband since the arranged marriage at the age of fourteen, it was hard for Betty to imagine a time without him.

--Knock--

--Knock--

--Knock--

Betty was annoyed by the interruption “Yes?”

A servant pushed open the door a bit and made a report “Mam, there are people at the estate gate looking for you…”

Betty rolled her eyes lazily “Tell them I don’t want to see anyone today…”

“I don’t think I can do that…”

“Why?”

“Well, mam… because they are government…”

“Oh…” Betty answered, still not giving a fuck but deciding to entertain the guests nonetheless “Tell them I’ll meet them within the next hour…”

“No need… My name is Matthew Abdni and this is my associate Private Lorraine…” Matthew said, pushing the servant aside and walking through the door into Betty’s Private Quarters alongside Private Lorraine.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Betty asked with quirked brows, picking a cigarette from the tray for the hundredth time in the past three days.

“Nice to see you too, Betty…” Matthew greeted, showing they were somewhat familiar.

“Not so nice to see the D.O.D at my home…” Betty retorted nonchalantly but her mind was already running calculations.

Matthew tossed a classified file on the table “Take a look and tell me what you think…”

Betty washed away the hopelessness from her eyes and glanced at the file before picking it up and examining the contents.

“Impossible!” she whispered, glaring at her late husband’s competition.

Matthew sighed sadly and walked out the door alongside his associate, leaving behind only a few words of wisdom “Do the math Betty… do the math… you brought a viper into your home…”

After everyone had retreated from her Private Quarters, Betty was left alone with her musings, constantly staring at the files in her hands, reviewing them over and over for discrepancies but she could find none.

On the file was…

“Name: Tyrone Johnson

Notes: The subject has shown toxicity levels in the blood that identify him as something more than just human. Similar experiments are known to have been conducted by a specialized branch of the Nazi Science Program called ‘Hydra’. Tyrone Johnson carried the detonation device that blew up the ambulance with Anthony Armstrong inside.

Status: Deceased

Possible Targets: Anthony Armstrong (Successful), Colonel Philips (Failed), Betty Armstrong (Failed)…”

“What fucking bullshit…” Betty murmured, “…But still… one can’t help but wonder…”

-----------------

Outside the estate, Matthew and Lorraine were having a little discussion of their own.

“Are you sure it was okay to throw the kid under the bus like that?” Private Lorraine asked.

Matthew just shrugged his shoulders “Dead people tell no tales… especially someone without any identity to begin with…”

Private Lorraine sighed “How are you so sure the kid is dead?”

“Nobody survives an ambulance explosion like that…” Matthew responded vaguely, not letting anything slip about his involvement with that incident.

As far as his higher-ups were concerned, they needed someone to blame so they didn’t look bad and Tyrone just so happened to be the only plausible black person in the entire building at that time.

“Let’s go…” Matthew stated, hopping in the nearby car “Colonel Philips is ordering an investigation into the matter… we don’t wanna be caught up in that shit…”

Private Lorraine gave an amiable smile, hopping in the driver’s seat and pressing the gas.

Unaware to Matthew, Lorraine just received a very important message – ‘We found the kid… keep those guys busy for an hour more...’

-------------------

Three Days Earlier

14th January 1942 --- New York City

Tyrone struggled to remove himself from the water…

His skin was broken in several locations due to staying in the water too long…

Tyrone could feel his blood seeping from the cracks into the water, blackening the polluted water which just showed that he was even worse than Pollution, itself.

“You can’t get much lower than this…” Tyrone joked, clawing his way onto the shore with a fever that could kill a normal man.

He had no idea how far he had drifted, but judging by the sounds of cars and people, he had not drifted nearly far enough.

It felt like an eternity of drifting but Tyrone was sure that it was about two hours at most…

“Fuck…” Tyrone groaned, pulling himself towards the only source of heat he could feel nearby.

He spent about five minutes crawling as far as he could before a pair of arms wrapped around his waist, dragging him the rest of the way.

Before passing into unconsciousness, Tyrone had one thought ‘Escape from an explosion and now I am being abducted…’

-------------------

Two Hours Later

Tyrone woke up feeling weaker than ever…

He tried hopping to his feet but a strong hand pressed his shoulder downwards… even if his shoulders were not pressed, Tyrone doubts he would have been able to get up.

“Hey kid relax… you’re gonna get sicker if you try to move around…”

Tyrone heard a gruff voice that almost intimidated him into silence, but his survival instincts forced his body to slap the hand away, and roll to his feet despite the weakened state of his body.

“Ughhhh!”

A groan escaped his lips but Tyrone was quick to steady his unwilling feet and train his eyes forward at the possible enemy.

There he saw a relatively short man with worn-out clothing and a bushy, unkempt beard.

Everything about the man screamed homelessness, and one quick look at the burn barrels around told Tyrone where he was – East Brooklyn.

“Calm down kid…” The homeless man stated, treating Tyrone like a startled rabbit “I am trying to help you… the name is Xel…”

Tyrone touched his head and noticed a wet cloth; though, judging by the rough feel of the cloth, he was sure it was pretty dirty, probably adding to his sickness more than quelling his fever.

As if he could tell what Tyrone was thinking, Xel laughed “That cloth is my special remedy for lacerations… it’s not for fever, your body seems to handle that well enough…”

Tyrone sighed and slumped to the ground “I can’t repay your kindness… I have nothing…”

Xel laughed “Don’t worry about it kid…” he said pointing at Tyrone’s missing cufflinks.

Tyrone gave Xel an awkward gaze “You do know it’s not real gold right?”

Xel shrugged “Around here… as long as It glitters it is gold…”

Tyrone glanced at the stew sizzling on the burn barrel and searched his person for anything he could offer for a meal.

He came to an abrupt stop when he found a familiar necklace around his neck…

The necklace wasn’t a problem but it confused Tyrone how sometimes Jessica’s gift would appear around his neck, and sometimes it just wasn’t there at all.

“I tried to take it off you but it just burned my hands…” Xel admitted a bit sheepishly.

Actually, the only reason he didn’t strip Tyrone naked and leave him for dead was that he wanted to rob the necklace, but it wouldn’t come off, so Xel determined Tyrone was someone special.

It was better for special people to owe you favors…

Tyrone was about to open his mouth, but Xel hastily stopped him “You don’t have to repay me now… just wait until you’re richer and repay me…”

Xel blushed a bit at his own shamelessness, but Tyrone was even more shameless; he rose to his feet and took the entire pot of stew for dinner.

Xel raised a brow and Tyrone shrugged “I’ll pay you back when I become ‘richer’…”

Xel and Tyrone talked for a couple of hours until the sky was pitch black, and they drifted into a peaceful slumber on the ground…

---------------

A little after midnight, Tyrone’s eyes shot open to be greeted by someone’s hands around his neck, attempting to loosen his chain.

“Hey!” Tyrone shouted, attempting to swat the hand away, but the person had nimble fingers, already loosening the chain.

By the time Tyrone hopped to his feet, the assailant was gone with equally nimble steps as their hands.

Though Tyrone was quick to follow behind the assailant, while the assailant was faster, he could tell that they were somewhat short, giving him the advantage of longer strides.

Thankfully, Tyrone felt most at home in the shadow of night time so he found it easy to follow the trail of the assailant.

It was like a trail of darkness would guide him at every twist and turn, barely managing to keep up with the thief until…

“Got you!” Tyrone yelled, grabbing the pristine, white wrist of a young girl no older than probably twelve.

However, he grew startled the next moment as, before his very eyes, the young girl became a slightly older young woman, and then she disappeared entirely into black smoke that sunk into his skin.

Tyrone stood frozen as his necklace was all that remained in his hand; though, the object was noticeably hot and getting hotter, as if trying to guide him in a specific direction.

Following his instincts, Tyrone was guided deeper and deeper into the darkness until even his eyes, very attuned to the darkness, could not tell where he was going.

“I know I am lost…” he grumbled but strained his ears the next moment when metal clanking and whisperings could be heard.

He ducked into the nearby alley, following the noise for a couple of meters until he entered a slightly brighter area filled with sparse burn barrels, obviously a large encampment of some kind.

There, he saw the girl from his earlier hallucination being beaten to a pulp by two men… Well, she was the girl from his hallucination, only dirtier and a bit older…

Still, Tyrone noted that there was an aura of brightness around her that just beckoned to him… as if he needed her more than anything in this world... to balance the darkness inside of him…

------------------

Spryta (Junkie), Jace (Drug Dealer) and Tod (Drug Dealer)

“Uggghhhh!”

Spryta groaned as another blow was delivered to her stomach, but still, she did not yield even a bit.

She refused to hand over the last bit of her drug stashed within a hidden compartment in her tent. How could she when the drugs were the only thing that kept her from committing suicide…

Though, she had to admit that suicide was not a bad option at this point…

“Uggghhhh!”

Another blow came and another grunt of pain left her lips but she still didn’t yield…

Spryta could hear the ruffling of the nearby tents, but nobody came to aid her… it was not unexpected since even children knew to mind their own business…

However, today felt a bit different… she had a bit more hope in her heart today for some inexplicable reason…

Spryta had always had an unusual knack for tricking others to her own ends and that was the only reason she could survive so long on the streets.

Sometimes, she would scream awake in the middle of the night, recalling memories that pained her brain and evoked such terror that the pain of more drugs was all that could drown it out.

Hence, her life became a kind of destructive cycle of its own – dream nightmares, experience pain, take drugs, experience lesser pain, rinse and repeat…

For as far back as she can remember, Spryta only knew struggle and the streets of New York.

She didn’t know exactly who was her mother and father but judging by the way she was on her own from day one, she theorized that her mother was probably a prostitute and her father a drunkard.

Even as she grew older every year, she somehow felt like she was still as weak as a child regardless…

Initially, she didn’t turn to drugs on her own… the poison was forced into her veins by bullies, and by the time she realized it, she was already too addicted to stop.

Such was the story of many kids around these parts… After all, it was easier to get addicts to buy your shit as long as you made them addicts in the first place…

Spyrta spat the blood stuck in her throat and complained “If you beat me anymore today, I won’t be able to buy drugs from you guys tomorrow…”

“You owe too much…” Jace, her usual drug dealer, whispered while fondling her waist.

Spyrta face cringed in unwillingness, she hated doing ‘sexual favors’ but she learned a long time ago that it didn’t matter if you were unwilling, so just pretend it was anything but rape…

Spyrta sighed, secretly reaching for the knife in her pocket, not for anyone else but herself… sometimes being pushed so far was enough to make a decision, and she had finally made hers…

She was not strong enough to combat the two men.

At best, she would be beaten, raped, and beaten some more… but if she killed herself then everything would finally be over…

No more nightmares… no more suffering… no more feeling as if she was incomplete…

At least, that was the plan until….

--BANG--

Tyrone darted from the side with his fist clenched, charging up his earth-rending and sky-splitting punch… only this time, unlike with the assassins, the punch made contact, sending Jace sprawled out on the ground…