XXV.

“Get back, partner…I know…that fighting’s not your thing…so it’s up to me…to take these scum wads down!” Melpomene yelled out, pushing Romel aside. “You punks are about to find out, this day’s no ordinary day, it’s Judgment Day…and I’m the judge.”

Afterward, he crumpled down to the ground unconscious.

Romel was left alone facing Dante, Mathis, and Amil.

“It’s you, ain’t it?” asked Amil.

“Me?” said Romel, shaking.

“That started this fire,” said Amil.

Romel stuttered something unintelligible.

Amil cut him off, “My house! You did this to MY house! Well, son, you must know by now, you messed up. And if you don’t know it, you’re about to find out.”

The torturers advanced on Romel.

And poor Romel, he could not think of what to do but stand there scared.

The first blow knocked Romel down to his hands and knees. It’d come from Dante, of course. He’d been most excited to deal violence. The next blow came from Mathis in the form of a kick. It landed at the center of Romel’s chest and caused an explosion of air to burst from Romel’s lips. The last was a stomp from Amil aimed at the top of Romel’s head, a stomp which drove Romel’s face down to the ground and nearly knocked him out. Stars blinking in and out of his vision, Romel lay on the ground unmoving, his brain only half-awake.

Above him, he heard as through waves, Amil’s voice saying, “This chump likes starting fires. I say, pick him up and throw him in it.”

Fitting, thought Romel. He’d left the library patrons to die in a fire. The fates had arranged for him to pay for it in kind.

Grabbing him by the arms, Mathis and Dante began dragging Romel out of the room.

“When you’re done, get back here quick so we can get the hell up out this place,” said Mathis.

From either side of Romel, Mathis and Dante agreed.

On his way to his death, Romel had a few moments to reflect back on his life. Had he done this weeks ago, before the incident at the library, he would have likely considered it a life well lived. He never hurt anybody, he was nice to whoever he interacted with, he almost never got mad. He was, in short, the very opposite of his dad. Exactly what he’d always aspired to be.

The library, though, it’d exposed him. For all his good-naturedness, when it came time to do something courageous, he’d chickened out. There were, of course, a myriad of ways to justify his act. He’d spent those weeks alone in Medina Jade’s bedroom cycling through each one of them. In the end, none had served to give him peace. That day she kicked him out, he’d fought her, but he knew he deserved it. Deserved to be kicked out onto the streets to suffer. He’d done wrong. And maybe, he’d spent his whole life thinking he was good, when in reality, he’d just never had opportunity to be bad. This revelation came to him as he wandered the streets the days before he met Melpomene.

Now, here he was, paying the ultimate price. He consigned himself to his fate. To his rear, he felt the heat of a fire raging. The men holding him readied themselves to hoist him in. Burned on the pyre, just like those Christian martyrs he’d read about in books. Heh. He ended up just like he told the girl he would.

The girl…

She’d touched him and it’d filled him with strength. She’d said to him he was nice and thanked him. She’d made him feel…the same way he felt when he was plugged in to Melpomene’s madness; certain of his cause, filled with purpose, good. Not merely the opposite of his dad. It was, in a much truer sense, what he’d always aspired to be.

With that thought, the Calling came back to him.

Ready to forgive yourself, Romel, and move on? Ready to do what you weren’t willing to do before and fight?

“But…” he started to say.

There’s not time for your objections now. Answer, or I move on to someone else.

Heading toward the house, Romel had thought it good that he die. If life was suffering, then why postpone its end? The girl had given him an answer. Suffering was a worthy opponent, but meaning, meaning prevailed. Was Romel willing to give up what he’d always assumed made him good? Was he willing to give up passivity and become an active agent? Was he willing to fight?

He was, if it meant feeling again what he felt when he rescued the girl.

Nodding, he said to the Calling, “Yes.”

Instantly, the quake that passed through him in the library passed through him now, gifting him with strength. The sleeves of his shirt filled, the neck of his collar stretched. His whole body became firm. All this occurred just as Dante said to Mathis, “Toss him in,” and the two began swinging Romel toward the flames.

Grabbing both their arms with his now powerful grip, Romel prevented them. The two looked at him with shock. He returned their expression. It’s not like he had any idea what he was doing.

Using his empathy powers, Romel detected, first Dante’s, then Mathis’, rage-lust rising. They were each about to hit him. He had to beat them to the punch. Just like at the window, he reared his fist back and prepared to feel pain. The potency of his strike caught everyone present off guard. Dante was nearly flipped backward from the force.

“What the…” Mathis asked.

But before he could finish, he was met by a punch of equal strength. It sent him backward, straight into the hallway wall. Mathis, who was bigger than Dante, to some degree withstood the blow. He was still conscious, but barely. That was remedied a second later. Romel hit him again. This time, the bigger man went down.

At Romel’s back, the fire raged. Inside him, a fire raged as well. The sense of power he got from knocking out these two men, it was like a revelation. Never before had he stood over a conquered opponent. Never before had he known what it was like to dominate another. To impose his will on them. It was like an intoxicant.

The experience was fleeting. Looking down at them, seeing them all crumpled up so perilously near the flames, he felt bad. He couldn’t leave them there like that. As they had when they were dragging him to the fire, he grabbed them by the arms and dragged them away from it.

From the room ahead, Amil yelled out to his men, “What’s takin’ ya’ll so long? We gotta get up outta here!”

In response, the limp body of one was tossed into the room, then the other.

Following them, bursting from the rising smoke, came Romel, coughing up his lungs.

“You…how’d you do all this?” asked Amil.

The hallway which Romel and the two men had just come from was quickly becoming kindling. The fire ate its way along the walls and would soon overtake the remainder of the house. Romel, not wanting to waste time arguing, said, “Go! Escape through the window! I’ll get these guys out!”

Bending down to grab them, Romel looked up to see Amil not obeying him in the slightest. Instead, he was now brandishing a gun.

“What are you doing?” asked Romel. “We’re all going to die in here.”

“Nah, son, only you. Ain’t nobody do what you did to Amil and get away with it. I learned one thing from my mother, and that’s that, you always gotta be the one in control. And this here,” Amil said, bucking up his gun, “This here’s me, maintaining control. See you on the other side, sucka.”

Then, Amil opened fire.