The Secret Origin of Direwolf - part 2 "...What happened to you, kid?"
by Direwolf

At the edge of awareness, Jason heard some one calling through the thick darkness enfolding him. He forced open an eye and bright light flooded his vision. Reflexively, he drew back, snarling slightly. He blinked and the light faded to a manageable level. A flashlight was shining into his face.

"Got another one here, Detective," the form behind the light called. "Steady there, looks like you were in a bit of a scrap. Did you see who did this to you?"

Jason sat up. He was still in the museum Pleistocene display room. He realized his shirt was in tatters as if most of the seams had give way. Aside from that and a slight ache in his left forearm he felt fine. Left arm! That was what the animate fossil wolf bit! He looked at his arm. There were bloodstains on his shirt but the skin was unmarked, no sign of the vicious wound that had cut through flesh to bone and nearly taken his arm off at the shoulder.

"What happened?" he asked. The fossil was gone, only a heap of copper wire twists marked where he was sure it had been. But that was impossible. So was being attacked in the middle of the museum by a collection of fossil bones, for that matter, along with all the other odd ‘time slips' he thought he'd experienced.

"That's what we're trying to figure out, and hoping you can help us there," the man with the flashlight said. Jason realized he was a Patriot City police officer. He saw another one coming in from the Egypt room along with a middle-aged man in a rumpled trench coat and fedora. The second man pulled a cigar from his coat pocket, stuck it between in teeth and didn't light it. "Detective, over here!"

"Sleeping beauty's awake, wonderful. Maybe he can explain. I've got a burgled museum that looks like a real pro-job until who ever it was chose to burst out the front door and trigger every alarm in the city. The whole things squirrel bait. I'm detective Siller; these are officers O'Connell and Devechio. Are you ok and what happened to you, kid?"

Jason wondered how through out his speech, detective Siller kept from dropping his unlit cigar. "Mr. Conroy, the guard, is he all right?"

"Conroy's fine except for a bump on his noggin. Found him by the back door, koshed and dragged to the side. He's awake and confused. How about you?"

Jason nodded. He'd decided that he must have imagined all the weirdness of the evening in some sort of fever haze.

"I'm Jason Cross, a graduate student over at City University. I work here in the fossil collection. I was bringing up a just reconstructed Canus Dirus skeleton when something happened. I'm not sure what. The next thing I knew Officer Devechio was shinning a light in my face. I'm sorry that's all I know."

Over the next three quarters of an hour, Jason repeated the story several times under Detective Siller's prompting. And in the process, he found out quite a bit from the surprisingly talkative policeman. It seemed that the back door had been forced open sometime around nine after the alarm had been bypassed. Then the intruder (or possibly several) had made enough noise, maybe intentionally, to draw the guard and knocked out the old veteran. Inside, the thief went first to the Renaissance room upstairs and made off with what Detective Siller called "one sweet load of old gold and jewels" before coming back downstairs. Presumably, the thief noticed Jason at this point, and knocked him out some how. Then they must have taken the fossil skeleton. Jason didn't ask why the thief would take the time to unwire the bones not to mention how they moved several hundred pounds of stone. Then the thief moved on to the Egypt room and opened a single case, removing two items before something spooked them. They bolted for the front door and made a run for it without dealing with the alarms, a little before ten. That was what brought the police.

It was nearly midnight when Jason walked out of the museum. Detective Siller had given him a phone number to call if he remembered anything and asked him to stay ‘available' in case the police had more questions. Jason was reasonably sure he wasn't a suspect. He tugged his coat around his chest over the tattered shirt, noticing that it seemed snugger then he remembered and started for the bus stop. From the museum steps, he saw the bench in front of the bus stop, tipped over and broken from the battle this afternoon. And he saw the last bus of the night pulling away. He considered running for it but knew he'd never make it in time. With a sigh, he shouldered his backpack and walked north. He had a ways to go. And with his tight budget, a taxi was right out. To make matters worse, he was ravenously hungry.

Jason walked through the night. He had to cover twenty-five blocks but that shouldn't be too difficult. In high school, he had been a relay racer and javelin thrower and as a geology student, he had to lead field-mapping expeditions. The walk was doable. This wasn't the first time he'd missed the last bus of the night. But tonight it felt somehow different. The night seemed overly bright under a quarter moon, the pools of light cast by streetlights were painfully intense, though his eyes quickly adjusted. Sounds and scents were impossibly rich. He'd never realized just how much was going on in the city by night. The gurgling of the sewers running under the streets was clearly audible and there was a higher pitched sound he thought had to be the water mains themselves. Electricity crackled along the power lines, scenting the air with ozone. Animals occupied the night as well. He heard and saw countless dogs, cats and rats. But there were other living things about as well. Bats fluttered overhead. An urbanized raccoon scavenged a garbage can. An owl floated overhead. A slight, sinuous movement by the corner of a building caught his eye. It took him a moment to discern what was happening. A large copperhead was swallowing a rat.

Jason stopped in mid stride while crossing a street. This wasn't normal and he wondered if it somehow had to do with the odd ‘time-slips' he'd thought he'd experienced. Maybe the thief used some drug on him that had messed up his perceptions.

As he stood there, examining the array of sensory data flooding into him, he missed the snarl of an approaching engine.

Jason had long wondered about the sort of people who drove in Patriot City and suspected that the city had to have the highest incidence of run over pedestrians in the world. It took a major disaster to get the drivers to stop and they seemed blithely unaware of any one walking in the streets. Jason realized he was in trouble as light suddenly swept over him. A taxi had just rounded the corner behind him and was bearing down.

"It's going to hit me," he gasped. The cab was traveling too fast to dodge. Jason acted without thinking. Moving with superhuman agility, he set foot on the cab's bumper and stepped up to the hood, then on to the roof, then back down the far side. He leapt from the speeding cab and landed on the asphalt, his knees flexing to take the impact. The cab sped on.

"I just ran over a moving car!" Jason dashed to the curb to collect himself. Even in peak condition in high school, he'd never moved that fast. It was impossible. He grabbed hold of the stop sign to steady himself. "What is happening?"

No answer came form the darkness but he felt the sign pole deform in his hand. He was squeezing so hard the metal bent like clay. He pulled his hand away. The marks of his fingers were clear. He stared at his hand. With that sort of pressure, the bones should have snapped. But he was fine. On impulse, Jason walked over to dumpster protruding from an ally way.

"You know this is completely crazy," he told himself as he squatted down and gripped the underside of the huge steel bin. By the sound, it was over half full. With a grunt, he straightened up and heaved. There was a metallic groan as the dumpster rose from the ground. Jason stared at the huge bin balanced over his head. It was awkward, but not heavy. He set it back down with a thump.

"Well, so much for the ‘getting sick' theory."

Jason resumed walking as he puzzled over what had happened to him. It had to have been the strange metal cylinder and the purple flash. And right now, he didn't think the mysterious thief took the dire wolf skeleton. Which left the question of where the fossil went.

"Let's not think about that right now." He spotted an all night burger place that was still open and spent a dollar getting something to put in his stomach. On impulse, he ordered the burger rare. It seemed right that way. Then it was back to walking. He resisted the temptation to experiment with these mysterious abilities on the way home.

Jason roomed in an old brownstone two blocks from the university campus, two streets over from frat house row. The house had earned the nickname ‘the brain trust' in reference to its three occupants. Jason shared it with two other graduate students. Devon Engles was a mechanical engineering student while Skip Carson was pursuing a degree in medical biology. The three of them were the best of friends and helped each other with classes, split the rent and collectively ignored household chores for as long as they could. The stacks of pizza boxes were legend. The three of them had been together for four years, ever since they meet in the same calculus class and formed a study group. There weren't any people that Jason trusted more then Devon and Skip.

"But that can wait. Sleep first." Jason trudged up the steps and unlocked the front door. The house was dark and quite. "Not yet in, they must be out on frat house row at some party."

Jason went to the kitchen and slacked his hunger on a thick sandwich and a couple of bananas, then headed to his room. Again, the light was painfully bright for the moment it took his eyes to adjust. "That's going to take getting used to."

He dropped his backpack by his desk and pulled off the remains of his shirt. He saw his reflection in the closet mirror. There was no doubt that his arms and chest had thickened with extra layers of muscle. "Curiouser and curiouser."

Jason stripped off the rest of his clothing and switched off the light. Then he fell into bed. With a crash, the bed collapsed under him.

"Just great!" Jason snarled. The mattress was intact, but the box spring and frame were wrecked. It would seem that his mass had increased as well.

"I'll deal with it in the morning," he grumbled and went to sleep.

"So, that's the full story. I figure that whatever happened, I needed advice and you are the only ones I can turn to with this." Jason sat gingerly in an old, overstuffed chair in the living room. This piece of furniture seemed able to handle his weight. It was late morning and he was dressed in a City University sweat suit. Not a lot else fit any longer. Devon and Skip were on the threadbare brown sofa they had salvaged from a junkyard when they first rented the small house. Neither of them commented as Jason finished talking.

Devon took off his glasses and tucked them into his shirt pocket. Skip reflexively rubbed his chin, scratching his wispy brown beard he insisted made him look more ‘bohemian'. They looked at each other and nodded seriously. Then, in tandem burst out laughing. Crestfallen, Jason stared at them as the laughter continued.

"Right, you're a supper hero now," Skip gasped, once he recovered enough breath." I can see it, Geo-man, or better yet, the Amazing Frat-boy, able to drain a keg in a single swallow!"

That set them off again.

"You almost had me going there," Devon managed between explosive snorts, "you must be so far behind in your thesis work you're going for an insanity defense."

"Or he's just nuts," Skip offered.

"Guy's, I'm not kidding, this all really happened just like I said!"

"Yeah, right, sure," Skip scoffed. "And I'm the Queen of England."

Devon jumped to his feet and bowed low to his partner in hilarity. In a voice honed in theater department productions, said, "Your majesty, can I interest you in a bridge I just happen to have for sale? It would look smashing across the Thames."

He fell back to the sofa and they cracked up anew.

"Fine!" Jason growled, "maybe this will convince you!"

With a surge of enhanced muscles, he lifted the couch over his head. Laughter quickly became shouts of surprise and alarm. He shook the couch slightly for emphasis.

"Ok, ok, we believe you!" Devon squawked. "Put us down!"

Jason set the old couch down carefully, he didn't want to hurt his friends or damage any of the little furniture they had.

After a couple of deep breaths to steady himself, Devon put his glasses back on. Skip took a closer look at his friend.

"Yeah, you do look different, like you have been pumping weights for weeks..."

With a sigh of relief, Jason slumped back in the chair that groaned under his weight. They believed him.

"So, let's go over this again," Devon said. He pulled out a note pad and started a flow chart. "When was the first time you noticed these ‘slips'. Right after Freedom Force finished their battle out side the museum, correct?"

Jason went through the story again, this time answering questions both Skip and Devon poised. It helped so much to have rational people who were taking this seriously. He realized now that no matter what came next, he wasn't in this alone.

After the questions and answers, Skip insisted that a medical examine was required just to make sure there wasn't anything ‘wrong' with him.

"Fine," Jason agreed. "But you do it."

"I'm not qualified for something like this. I'm not even really pre-med."

"Maybe not, but more importantly, I trust you, both of you, but no one else enough to share...this with. Until I know better what is going on and what this all means to me, I need this to stay with us. No one else. Can you guys do that for me?"

Devon and Skip looked at each other, and nodded slowly.

"Yeah, we're with you on this, so long as you don't go out and start knocking over banks, trying to over throw the government or, you know, making yourself into a super villain or something like that. You weren't planning on that, were you?"

Jason couldn't help but see the sudden apprehension in the faces of his two friends. He realized he had become something different, alien and dangerous in their eyes. Friendship was still there, but so was fear. He understood that this was apt to be the reaction of anyone he told. They would fear him; try to use him, or both. A wave of loneliness swept over him as he saw the path fate had set him on. He knew he would try as best he could for as long as he lived to use these powers for the benefit of the world. But what if he failed? How much destruction could someone like him wreck either by accident or intentionally? Was it fear he would inspire in others, or just an understanding of what was at stake? Jason understood that decision he had just made would channel his life down a narrow, dangerous path and keep him away from so much of life. Could he really do it? It wasn't too late. Perhaps he could mask these changes in him and act as if nothing had happened. Devon and Skip would help, he was sure.

"No, I can't do that," he thought to himself. "I couldn't live with my own cowardice. I have to try to make a difference, if only to be able to live with myself."

"Nah, I'm not supper villain material," he said aloud. "I don't have the insidious laugh. I always snort when I really get going. No one would take me seriously enough."

His joke broke the tension. He saw the apprehension drain from Devon and Skip's faces as they laughed as well. But Jason wondered if it was truly gone, or just buried for the moment. Time would tell.

"So, you going to join up with Freedom Force?" Devon asked.

Jason thought for a moment, and then shook his head. "No, at least not now. They are real professionals, look what it says in the papers. I don't know enough yet to tell if I'd be help or a hindrance. I'll try this on my own first and see what happens, sort of learn by doing. Then, well, we'll see what happens.

"Sounds reasonable," Skip offered. "Only, you aren't in this completely alone. You've got us to help."

And that, Jason realized, was what really mattered.

Meanwhile, in an apartment over looking Patriot City's Central Park, a young woman wearing a form fitting black sweater and pants sat in a chair, staring at a carved silver scarab in her hands. The room was in darkness and a bag of stolen jewelry rested beside her chair. All was silent. But the ancient seal spoke to her, telling her secrets of the past, promises for the future, and the keys to inhuman power in a sibilant voice that only she could hear.

To be continued...