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Envy and Lust (Ch. 17 added)


Philosopher

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This story is such a crazy mix od psychological and sexy shit. I love it and hate it at the same time. I wish Jason would have stayed with Luke and just be happy but he was toxically envious so damn. I am on chapter 10 Right now. Curious to see what happens 

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Now is it just one virus that changes people or are there the versions of the same virus.   Does one virus sort of morph into "authority" or "strength" or are they pre made as such.   If so, can the virus mutate into another form?

If so, I think Luke might become the ruler of the world especially if he gains all the attributes.  Or could the same happen to Jason and there'd be a battle of the titans?

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Jason has done things that can be forgiven.He has changed now and i doubt he wants any out of it. He enjoys it too much.

 

I do wonder why Father wantsthe virus to mutate. A mutated virus is one without control.

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Remember to save your work! I accidentally forgot to do just that, and I had to write this chapter again from scratch.😑

Chapter 15

The man in the red cap was an interesting figure. Edd hadn't told me his name, and I had no interest in learning it. A bug didn't have a name after all. As we shoved him into our van, Edd placed the gun at the calf of the man, and with a brilliant smile he started asking him questions.

To his credit, the man didn't talk. He was trembling and shaking like a brittle leaf caught in a cyclone, under powers and influences beyond its control. He was heaving, and bits of bile could be seen exiting his mouth. I suppose being drunk and then kidnapped by a duo of powerful people did make one's stomach twist and churn.

"Your address, Mr. Williams. Our 'package' is there," Edd sung in the man's ear. He was acting theatrical, as if he was playing a role in a drama class.

I liked it.

'Mr. Williams' did not reply. His chest was going up and down in quick speeds, and I could even feel his terror and anxiety from my seat. A cloud of terror had surrounded him, and rightfully so. With a sigh, Edd buried the gun into his leg even more.

In hindsight, we should have gotten a soundproof van.

.

.

.

Fifty minutes later and on the other side of the town, Edd kept driving the car into narrower and narrower alleys. Mr. Williams had passed out from the pain of the bullet buried deep within his leg, and that was after a long round of screams and grunts and tears.

 We were in the poor, old, forgotten piece of the city of angels, a place of darkness and sorrow. I kept looking through the windows to pass the time, spotting people on broken pavements and rotten benches, their faces tired and corrupted. There was no night sky above us here, just an endless grey horizon of smoke and gangrene where the demons rested, driven away by the angels.

For some reason, I kept looking at the people. Men and women and even kids, all of them weak and frail. Their eyes had no light in them, the spark of life had left long ago, and only a steep, seeping dark void remained. They wore rags of torn shirts and pants, loose around their famished bodies. I could smell the pungent smell of dirt and filth even from the inside of the van.

It made me angry. Furious. These people, they were so WEAK! It reminded me of myself just a few months ago, a flailing sack of bones and skin, playing the role of the sidekick to the evolving Luke, always in the sidelines, begging, PRAYING to touch and experience just a single mote of light out of his crush and roommate. Confusion and turmoil that wouldn't let me sleep at night, fury and envy that made me want to grab  the biggest knife there was so I could do despicable things to Luke and his brilliant body, to throw him away from the top of the tower, send him into the hell that my life had become after the explosion. The image of the poor folk outside, it made me more angry that I had ever thought possible.

At that moment, I felt something break inside me. Right between my lungs, a small fissure had opened, a crack to something unknown, previously contained. A cold sensation started spreading throughout my torso, and a calm clarity absorbed my anger away. It felt like a curse was being lifted above me, and a cool gust of air enveloped me.

I felt nothing. Complete and utter nothingness. As if I was ascending, shedding my previous mortal self, leaving behind my useless emotions. I felt powerful.

And I liked that even more.

.

.

.

Finally, Edd stopped the van near a neighborhood of slums. I don't believe it could even be called a neighborhood, the houses here were partially destroyed by the forces of nature. Some of them were decaying, old wood eaten by the rain and the wind, while others had all their windows broken and smashed, with roofs and walls caved in. The one Edd pointed at didn't even have a door.

"P-please, why are you doing this? What have I DONE?" Mr. Williams kept sobbing as we threw him out the van. His leg was bleeding, but most of the blood had dried away now, leaving behind a dark crimson pool of potential infection. To my surprise, Edd answered his question.

"Mr. Williams, you had a single, A SINGLE job to do. Deliver a package from downtown LA and bring it to the observatory. We had men waiting for it, but NO. You little, greedy fuck wanted to see what was in there, didn't you?. And when you saw the pretty little syringes,  and the bright red liquid in them, you decided to keep some for your own! Are you insane? YOU DON'T STEAL FROM US!" he shouted in rage, the facade of happiness dropping and being replaced with pure anger. Mr. Williams trembled and shivered, crawling away with his hurt leg. "So, we will have an exchange of goods, alright? How does that sound?" he asked as he grabbed him by the hand.

"Please, please, let me go! I'll give you anything, ANYTHING!" Mr. Williams wailed.

"If you say so. Your son or your daughter. Pick one. My advice, choose your son. He's older and stronger than his little sister. He'll probably survive the experiments. What do you say?" he smiled again.

It took a few moments for Mr. Williams to absorb the news. "...No. No. NO. God no please, don't make me do this. I CAN'T!" he screamed in absolute despair. Edd crouched down and buried his finger in the hole that the bullet had made in Mr. Williams leg, and the poor man screamed even more.

"Choose. NOW."

After a few pathetic minutes, Mr. Williams finally calmed down. "Take... take Creed. Not Alice, not poor, little Alice. Creed is strong, Creed will survive," he mumbled in a mixture of pain and tears.

"Good enough for me."

With that, Edd started dragging the man towards his own home, with me a few feet away, casually observing this intriguing moment. The house was more of a hut than an actual building that people lived in. There was a nauseating smell of dead leaves and unnerving moisture all around us. The walls had holes in them, and in the furniture were torn and rundown, as if they had been taken from a dumpster that was had been on fire just moments ago.

"What's wrong with the lights?" Edd grumbled as he pressed his fingers on a nearby switch, his other hand still holding the gun. "Hmm, no electricity. You're pathetic Mr. Williams, I hope you know that," he spat with disgust.

Mr. Williams opened his mouth to let out another groan of pain, and at that moment I felt another presence with us. I instantly looked behind me, to what appeared to be an imitation of a kitchen, and in the entrance, I saw a large, intimidating figure, veiled by the darkness. One thing that I had noticed the past few days was that my eyes could see everything, even in the darkest room of Inferno Corp. skyscraper. Father had told me that sometimes the virus grants different, passive powers to everyone, and in my case, my sense of sight had become far stronger and sharper than before.

Now, I could clearly see the man just a few steps away from me. His face. His body. His aura. All the little details.

They all reminded me of Luke.

I thought to myself, this had to be a joke. A farce. The boy in the kitchen was tall, 6'2 at least. He was broad-shouldered, with tight and dense muscles covering his body. His shirt had holes and tears in it, and even then I could see the teen, lean muscle peeking through it. As raised my gaze, I saw his face, a masculine handsomeness enveloping it. He had a prominent chin, and a strong jawline, with many different dimples covering his nose and cheeks. His eyes were a warm brown, hidden behind tufts of dirty-blond hair that had been awkwardly swiped behind his ears. He looked like he was twenty five years old, not the sixteen year old that Mr. Williams had promised. How he had grown so big and tall in such a horrible environment, even I couldn't answer.

But his face stayed with me. It reminded me so much of Luke. I couldn't help but feel angry at the universe, showing me the phantom of the man I had indirectly drowned in the lake, mocking me and telling me 'This is what you did. This is who you murdered. And he's gone, and you can't do nothing about it.'

The anger resurfaced, and the cold sensation in my heart fought to bury it down.

"Dad?" Creed shouted, a deep voice that once again reminded me of Luke. "Dad, who are these people?" he yelled, trying to intimidate us, but I knew he was afraid. I could see it. I could smell it.

"Son, please. They're h-here for y-you. Please go with them," his father broke down in tears again. Creed didn't seem to understand what his father was telling, and so he stepped closer to the entrance of the broken home. It was at that moment that I saw something else in his hands. A silver flash of a long weapon.

How did I not see it before? Was I too preoccupied thinking of beautiful, dead Luke to not see the silver eagle shotgun in Creed's veiny arms? And how had I not realized that the weapon was aimed directly at me?

"Shit," Edd groaned. "Jason, do your thing."

The slight mote of fear was swallowed by the coldness inside me and in the darkness, I smiled. "Creed, put your gun down and come with us like the good little boy you are." The ensuing headache sent flashes of lighting pain through my mind, but I fought it down. I was approaching my limit, but we were so close to being done with this job.

Creed stared at me for five seconds, first in confusion and then in anger. "What the fuck? No! Let my dad go!" he yelled, gripping the gun tighter. A smaller figure came behind him, and I saw a little girl with big blue eyes and blonde hair, shaking with fear.

"Daddy? Who are these people? Are they your friends?" she whispered, and Creed gently shoved her behind.

"Alice, go back to your room and stay there," he commanded, and Alice ran away. Since this house didn't have any electricity, I doubted that she could call the police.

Then it struck me. Creed hadn't followed my command.

Oh no.

Creed... Creed hadn't been infected with the Inferno Virus. I couldn't control non-infected people, not even Father could. But how? LA was a massive cluster of infections, we had specifically spread most of the virus in the LAX airport and in other monuments and tourist places of the city! My mind started working with incredible speeds, clicking down on the potential answers for this problem, and then I found it.

It was our fault. We hadn't paid attention in the poorer parts of the city. Management didn't care about the less-wealthy citizens. They- we thought that their bodies wouldn't be able to handle the mild version of the virus, and we didn't want to attract any attention to us, have the CDC trace the line of infections back to us. I remember the map we had planned, and yes, the district we were currently in had been marked as 'Useless'. We had employed some of the people here to transfer packages throughout the city, including Mr. Williams and it never crossed our mind that one of them could get curious or greedy enough to open Pandora's Box. Maybe Mr. Williams thought the syringes contained rare and expensive drugs, and he could sell them for money. It didn't matter, because now we were the ones paying the price.

"Jason?" Edd whispered in confusion. "What happened? Is he not... infected?" he shook the gun in his hands.

"Yes, you doofus! Wait, I can still salvage this," I shot back and took a deep breath. I then placed my eyes on little, whimpering Mr. Williams and smiled at him. "Mr. Williams, you'll have the pleasure of taking the gun away from your son. Go on!" I said and a stinging, needle-like flash shot through my eyes, bringing intense and burning pain with it. I had reached my limit.

Mr. Williams must have been visiting the more popular spots of the city, because he started walking towards his son, seemingly forgetting about the hole in his leg. My command had been so strong that only one thing mattered to him now, to complete his assignment, never-mind all the pain he was feeling right now.

But even I have a limit. I groaned with displeasure as I saw little stars in my eyes, my brain bathing in a sea of pain. I must have stepped forward in an attempt to grab something and prevent myself from falling down.

Apparently, Creed had seen my simple stumble as a threat, because the last thing I heard before being consumed by the coldness was the deafening bang of a shotgun. I suddenly felt something wet and sticky in my torso, right where my stomach and abs were and I knew. At that instance, the cold, swirling vortex of cold energy finally broke from its chains and enveloped my entire, bleeding body. 

Gravity took control of me, and everything went white, then black and finally, a still grey.

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Fuck yasss.

Thischapetr is probbaly one of my favorites because of the actions and teh tense moments of it.

I could pictured it all in my mind and now i quetsioned if Creed is infected by a mutated versioof teh virus. He is supposed to be 16 years old and Jason sees him as a grown up male.

 

I love this. 

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Chapter 16

They say that dreams are our subconscious minds seeping through the cracks of our tired bodies, flooding us with volatile visions of light and darkness, of colors and sounds, of truths and lies, all of them trying to imprint themselves into our consciousness, desperate to become a bit more real than they were before. 

There is strength in sleeping, and power in waking.

But I couldn't wake up.

I've heard stories of people who've slipped into comas. They are both conscious and unconscious the entire time. In some cases, their brains seem to be fully functional and relatively healthy, and yet they can't wake up for reasons that medicine and science still couldn't explain. Was it something that could be solved with logic and intelligence, or was that a sign that there was something more inside each and every person, a tiny part that was neither made of thoughts produced by the mind, nor of physical desire created by the body? Was that what we called a soul?

In the vast expanse of my dream world, I had plenty of time to think all these interesting philosophical questions. In here, I was not in control, but a mere observer, a passenger in a changing environment with no means to adapt and wrestle my own mind for dominion. This world changed again and again. Sometimes, it was a long, green paradise of flowers and trees. The soft viridian grass tickled my phantasmal body, shaking by a gentle wind that flowed through the massive oak and pine trees.

It was heaven, a world filled with brilliant golden light and beauty, where I was truly alone and free to explore. There were no animals here, and the only sounds I could hear where fragments of whispers coming from the long branches of the trees. They spoke to me, told me tales of the outer world, the reality that awaited if I ever woke up from my slumber.

The whispers were sometimes in the voice of Jess. They told me, begged me to wake up, to get out of my coma and return to the real world. They shook and shrieked and shouted, the wail of the wind turning stronger and darker as they pleaded with me. Other times, it was the gentle, soothing voice of Father, its sheer warmth bringing intense, brilliant light to my little world. The whispers would then tell me to rest as long as I needed to, that the pieces were almost in place now, and that the queen was that close on checking the king. They laughed and laughed, and warmth would tingle my dreamlike self, making me laugh as well.

.

.

.

But as I spent more and more time in my own head, the world turned darker and colder. Sometimes, the entire environment would change in a flash. Gone were the trees and the tall grass, gone was the brilliant blue sky above me, gone were the whispers and their little secrets. In their place, I would find myself fall deep into a black ocean, a place I had visited so long ago in my dreams. There was no wind here, just the all-powerful, rough, merciless tsunamis of the restless sea that would take me and bury me deep into the ocean. They roared in darkness and malice, they wanted me to fall as low as I could until I'd touch a seabed that simply didn't exist. In this nightmare, I couldn't breathe, and if I opened my mouth, the black ink would invade me. The pain was excruciating, uncontrollable, breaking down bits of my own mind and sanity.

And yet, the waves wouldn't stop. The current would take me deeper and deeper in the void, until no light from the grey, empty sky could pierce the darkness. And in the emptiness, I was truly alone. There was no power here, no magic. A dead world filled with darkness and sorrow, lacking the blessing of color and light.

The black water would turn and swift, mocking bubbles bringing me visions of a dead, lifeless Luke chained down in a lake, among with several other people. They'd open their grey, rotting eyes, and they would laugh and laugh until the roaring of their insane laughter drowned out all other sounds. They'd mock me and yell at me, "THIS IS YOUR FAULT. THIS IS WHAT YOU DID TO US. YOU SHOULD DIE. YOU SHOULD JOIN US. JOIN US, JASON. JOIN US IN THE PITS." Luke would laugh and scream the most, and he'd try to grab and take me with him further down the abyss.

I would scream and cry and laugh with them, and then I would feel nothing. They were right, after all. Everything I touched turned into a lifeless grey husk of its previous self. I would strip people the greatest power of them all, that of free will and I would make them do horrible things to themselves and to others.

This power was everything I dreamed off. A blessing of pure and ultimate control, a combination of power and the supernatural itself, an unbreakable spell that defied all. I was so happy, so ecstatic when I had awakened this gift. But then, as the drowned bodies kept laughing at me, I realized that this power had lost its appeal long ago. Yes, I could make an empire out of the world, I could be the ruler of this entire planet, everything could be mine. But with ultimate power came the ultimate price.

Do you know the worst part of getting exactly what you want? When it's simply not good enough. Then, what exactly crosses through our minds? If this can't make me happy, then what in this goddamn forsaken world would?

This power was supposed to mean something. I was supposed to mean something. But no, it's all random, with limits and weaknesses and chaos! That the only way to get stronger is to be fucking tortured by my own mind in this endless darkness!

Maybe, maybe I was better off staying back in England. Just little old me in my room with big and strong Luke, living our lives in the dorm and making hot, steamy love to each other every day.

But the idea of power is what saved my life. This promise that people like me, weak and introverted and clueless and unassuming...

The promise that people like me can find an escape from this chaotic world.

Shouldn't this promise be enough to wake me up, make me stronger?

As I was dragged deeper into the ocean, I knew that I had gotten my answer. There was no reward in the end. With each and every command that left my mouth, the novelty of control became stale and cold, and so did my heart.

And as time went on, I started to no longer feel. My heart turned colder and colder, until all I could see and breathe and smell and touch was the complete and utter lack of originality with myself. The only thing that kept me in this world was the fear that Father had instilled upon me, and even that had started to fade away. I would find myself asking, do I really want to evolve this power? Do I really want to make everyone a living puppet, infected and non-infected? Was that all there was in the end of the tunnel? Instead of light, only darkness and entropy?

More time passed. It could be days or weeks, or months. I don't know. All I could feel was a descent to the devouring darkness below me that seemingly had no end. The drowned would follow me too, with Luke being the first. He kept trying to grab me with his gargantuan paws and titanic body, and I wanted him to. I desperately needed to feel his warmth again, his own physical strength, and the safety that would envelop me the few times he had hugged me.

"But, Jason... You killed me. I'm dead," he'd roar in laughter, red crimson eyes burning a hole through my chest. He looked more like a demon now, and perhaps, I deserved to have the good and beautiful visage of Luke turn into a twisted mockery of humanity. He wasn't real, after all. His real body was probably still at the bottom of Echo Lake, slowly but surely becoming nutrients for the fish and the seaweed.

Revulsion and disgust had no meaning in this limbo, but the pain they brought to me felt real enough. And in the words of the wraiths that continued to haunt me in this hell, there was truth.

Even more time passed in the darkness, until time itself lost any meaning. All I could hear now was the wave of the current, an endless ride down to entropy at the bottom of the pit. The coldness had become familiar now, and the only thing that kept me alive was the grey energy inside me, granting me rays of cold, calculating light.

.

.

.

Until one day, I reached the bottom of this eldritch horror.

I had been bathing in black and grey for so long that emotions didn't cloud my judgement now. They weren't just not in my mind anymore, they were gone, stripped away by the silver presence in my heart. The voice had asked me long ago, if I wanted it removed, and at the beginning, I had said no.

I had quickly changed my mind after I concluded that there would be no end in this infernal hell if I didn't remove the little, obnoxious part in my soul, the one that told right from wrong, truths from lies, good and bad. By crushing it away, all the traumatic experiences that had been welled in my heart evaporated like little white smoke, and with it went empathy and morality. Useless functions that a perfect being shouldn't have.

I got that now. Father was right from the beginning. He always was.

I was confused when I found out that I simply didn't care about him or his goals anymore. I didn't care what Inferno Corp. wanted to do or achieve, I didn't care about little Jess and her fake blue eyes. But more importantly, I didn't care about Luke. For real this time. He was less than memory now, a mere specter that held no power over me. Life didn't need crushes and love and all that sweet pink nonsense. It was inefficient to like someone, dare I say love them.

I thought about my own overwhelming crush on Luke. It had been both physical and mental, of course it was. Physical in the sense that I loved how massive and strong he was, I loved how he could lift me off the ground and fuck me around with his over-sized cock like I was nothing, I loved the masculinity and total domination his own body brought against mine. I also enjoyed how he treated me, touching me gently as if I was made of glass. I knew he had to be careful because he could easily break me with his titanic strength, but at the same time I had sensed another aura of warmth, the touch you give to your lover, or your soulmate. A kind of connection that is both rare and strong, far more powerful than Luke's muscles or my own voice.

But, that connection was gone now. Because right now, my voice was leagues above it. And once that realization flooded my mind, the water around me started swirling like an inner tornado of mayhem, grabbing me with glee and dragging me upwards. Everything turned white as if I was breaking the speed of light and then the force stopped abruptly, letting me float in a milky-white realm of nothingness.

It was just me... and something that looked exactly like me.

"Hello," it said. "It was time I finally introduced myself to you," the clone yawned with a hazy smile. He was my exact reflection, mirroring any moves I did, even my breathing. "Let's start with the basics. I don't belong to you. No, sir. I chose you, you didn't choose me. This means that if I grant you the full power of the Authority Variant, you'll have to cooperate with me. That sounds fair for such overwhelming power, don't you think?" he asked and extended a hand.

Before I could say anything, ask the reflection who or what it was, I found myself reaching forward and grabbing the hand. It was cold and clammy, but at the same time I could feel how much strength was contained behind the pale skin.

"You're not going to regret this, Jason. In fact, I think that we'll have tons of fun, you and I. Go on now, your 'friends' are waiting for you to wake up. It's been a week, and they've started to grow agitated," the reflection observed and smiled again. With a sudden flash, a sharp pain shot through my stomach and I grabbed my abs with a groan.

Another voice broke the waves of pain, and I instantly recognized it. It was good old Jess. "...Jason?! OH MY GOD, SOMEONE CALL THE DOCTORS, HE'S WAKING UP!" she screeched like a banshee, and several alarms started beeping simultaneously.

"...Jess?" I croaked. My throat was dry like the Sahara desert, all moisture was gone. I couldn't see anything at all.

"Yes?! Jason, stay with us!" she shouted next to my ear like a five year old high on sugar.

"Jess. Shut the hell up," I grumbled.

The ensuing silence was music for my ears.

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On 11/22/2020 at 9:39 PM, Philosopher said:

This power was supposed to mean something. I was supposed to mean something. But no, it's all random, with limits and weaknesses and chaos! That the only way to get stronger is to be fucking tortured by my own mind in this endless darkness!

 

On 11/22/2020 at 9:39 PM, Philosopher said:

As I was dragged deeper into the ocean, I knew that I had gotten my answer. There was no reward in the end. With each and every command that left my mouth, the novelty of control became stale and cold, and so did my heart.

His doubts and fears were exposed for him by his minf and he could see and somehow understand what eh had done and he started having second yhoughts but those dafe away quicly. He wanted something more and he felt he still needed that.

 

That final part reminded me to the ability of the Vampires on "The Vampire Diaries" when they turn their humanity off so they could feel no more. Now a Jason with no Humanity and with fully developed powers will be a Jason to fear.

 

I wonder what was Luke doing all this time?

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