Chapter 18: Power Corrupts; Absolute Power Corrupts Absolutely

He walked on the frigid steel surface, yet no cold sensation ever came. It was like his sense of touch was numbed or lowered. The contrast should have been stark; the gym hall's floor heated, and the stairway chillier. That was not to say Mark could not feel it, he could, but it was akin to the lukewarm sun shining on you; or a light breeze blowing over you. Taking note of it, he hoped it was a superfluous worry and nothing serious. Perhaps, the curse was not without any downsides, or worse, his powers were temporary, fluctuating with the Void's mood... if it had one.

Arriving at the observation deck, he realised he had not listened to anything, his ears having to be consciously attuned to hear from a fair distance. Hopefully, it was not a grievous mistake, he thought; for he was not blind to the atrocities a nation can commit, pursuing progress and ambition.

Shaking his head, he grabbed the door handle and pulled, unceremoniously ripping the door from the wall in a screech of metal. Mark's neck shot back as he looked at the entrance in his hand, bewildered.

"Erm... shit." He muttered, glancing up, "Sorry."

Everyone was staring, the scientists turning back into their huddle as he slowly walked inside, unbothered about the event. Jenny was spooked, her hand shaking as she held a phone next to her ear, coughing before returning to the call. The only one with a 'smart' decision was the male Brigadier, Barak. His mouth was agape, shades missing, his hand on his holster, the gun almost drawn.

Mark slowly stepped towards the Asshole, hands in the air.

"It-It was an accident, I swear." Mark stated, "If you wouldn't mind, erm... hand off the holster?"

The man coughed, "Y-Yeah. I doubt... it would do much to you, anyway."

Despite his words, his hand hovered around the opened holster; Mark distinctly smelled the beads of sweat. He lowered his hands, glancing around as his expectations were not met. They kept their distance.

"Erm, Barak, right?" Mark asked, "What's going on? I... thought I'd be inundated with questions?"

"Jenny has a call with the politicians, and the scientists are... obsessing over your data. And writing an evaluation report, of course."

"Oh. That is understandable, I guess."

"What did you expect?" Barak snorted, "The military is ten per cent action, ninety per cent boredom, writing reports."

"I guess... I'm not sure. I suppose my thoughts trailed along the lines of movies and shows. A hero shows off, and people needlessly flock to him: ladies, scientists, businessmen and politicians."

"Reality is often deceiving. People who flock to those with authority are sycophants and conniving vultures. Scientists want nothing more than to dissect you; businessmen care only about the wealth and power you might bring. And nations? They would either exterminate you or abuse you."

Mark frowned, "T- Thanks for the pep talk? You don't seem to have favourable opinions of anyone, do you?"

"This is not the past." The man shook his head, "The US, especially, had tools and weapons beyond your imagination. They won't take kindly to you, particularly if you flaunt your power."

"Well, I'd rather not have these powers if I could. But alas, fate is unkind. I want to compensate for what I've done; I'd like to help people. And I have little interest in interfering with the US' affairs."

"It's not always that easy, Mark. The US will make you their affair." Barak sighed, "Jenny is almost finished; she will have the next lot of plans."

They turned to the female commander, her face tired with a hint of annoyance. She looked a lot like Mark when he worked at a pub in his teenage years; The Pilgrim's owner was a nasty piece of work. The woman walked over with a slight limp.

"Mark, there is good news and bad news." Jenny announced, "Which do you want first?"

He awkwardly shrugged, "The good news?"

"An optimist?" She smiled, "Well, you don't need to worry about dissection or anything. The Defence Secretary made clear you are an... asset? Not the nicest term, but..."

"That's fine, I guess. Suppose whilst I'm here, I would be an asset. The bad news?"

"You're going to have to stay here for a while. Freedom and communication will be limited, only allowed outside for your family's... funeral." Jenny frowned, "The Cabinet will be informed of your existence shortly. They'll assess your situation and reach a conclusion on what to do with you. Looks like you're stuck with us, Mark."

'So I have my human rights stripped and potentially used by corrupt politicians? Not the best news.' He thought.

"When... When is the funeral? I'd... like to make my peace. See them one last time."

"Unfortunately, I don't have a date. Things are a bit hectic right now; might take a day or two to settle down and organise. Sorry."

"Ah, ok." He smiled ruefully.

Jenny rubbed her chin before seemingly deciding something.

"Would you like a therapist, Mark? Now, hear me out. I'm not saying you are mentally unstable or anything, but; when I was young, I went through something similar. My... family died in a car accident. From my personal experience, it helps immeasurably. It'll be a safe space, unsurveilled and hopefully... allow you to mourn and move on."

"A therapist?" He questioned, "I can do that. I know with my... curse, I'm a bit. Yanno. Hazardous.

"You aren't hazardous, Mark." Jenny comforted, placing her hand on his shoulder, "Do not downplay it; you don't even know what happened. Do not disown your gift because of emotions."

"She's right, Mark." Barak uttered, "You are special, unique. There will never be someone like you. Don't put yourself down; you don't deserve it."

"My... gift, then. I know I've done some... horrific things. But I think it would be a good idea. I want to move on. I need to move on. I try, but... all I see when I look at my reflection is a demon. A monster."

"You are not a monster, Mark." Jenny soothed, "This is a phase of grief. I understand you are upset and angry at things. But it is misguided; there is nothing you could have done. This is an opportunity to change - for the better. Take it."

Mark smiled at the woman as she gently patted his shoulder. She stared at her male colleague, his shades back on.

"If only someone else I knew." She said, "Would also take my advice."

Barak glared at her and grunted, waving his hands at her dismissively.

"Right, Mark." Jenny said, "You should get back to your quarters. Presumably, these tests will continue frequently for the next day or two. Your pass should be there now; ensure to wear it at all times - lest we accidentally kick you out of the back."

Barak exhaled in exasperation as Mark chuckled. She was nice, an idea springing into his head that she had the mind of a twenty-year-old in a body of a forty-year-old.

"Barak, you want to take-" She started speaking.

"Nope." Barak interrupted, "You do it; you're the one telling him to go. I have a call with the Defence Secretary."

He put his hands up and shrugged, wandering off into the hallway to go about his work, leaving the two of them.

"Ugh, men. Come on then, Mark." Jenny said with a painful wince, "You'll need to remember this route in the future. Although I'm sure, if you ask, people will show you the way."

"Do you mind if we take a bit longer?" Mark asked, "I kinda want to practice the flight. I know it may be slightly... dangerous? But, I'm confident in not going out of control."

"Hmmm." She hesitated, "Sure? Just don't go super fast, I suppose I'd be heavily reprimanded if something went wrong. I would rather not lose my job, Mark."

Mark rubbed the back of his neck, unsure whether he should try it. Was she giving permission? Or inadvertently saying that he should not? He decided to keep walking.

"You people sure like piling on the pressure."

"Pressure is how you forge great men and women, strong and tough warriors. You know what they say; good times lead to weak men, bad times lead to strong men." She rose an eyebrow, "Are you not going to fly?"

"Ahem. I wasn't sure if you gave permission or were subtly saying no."

"No, no. Just be careful, is all I'm saying. With great power comes great responsibility, Mark. That quote defines you more than anyone else on the planet. Use the pressure to become responsible."

With the permission explicit, the duo paused in the hallway as he slowly floated upwards, hovering ten to twenty centimetres above the floor. Jenny huffed in amazement, shaking her head.

"Incredible." She muttered, "This is so surreal."

Mark thought about what she said regarding responsibility and pressure. He turned to her questioningly.

"Responsible?" He paused, "How would you be responsible with this cur- gift? How would you use the pressure?"

"An interesting question, Mark. I suppose, in your situation, I would try to overcome my grief. With that, the possibilities are endless. But, I'd like to think; I would try using it for good. Although, I would caution that life is not black and white. Sometimes, you must do things you disagree with."

His eyes narrowed, "Such as?"

Jenny rubbed her chin, "To be blunt, Mark. You should beware of those with envy and greed. These emotions are able to make even the greatest fall from external reasons. People will try to use and betray you in the most unlikely of circumstances." She exhaled, "Even us, Mark. Keep this between us, but you should trust no one fully."

Mark stared at her in slight apprehension, her words ominous.

"But, I think what you should most watch out for... is yourself."

"Myself?" He questioned.

"Arrogance, too much ambition, disdain. Great men and women hold enormous flaws, often deep within. You should be careful not to do the same. Power corrupts; absolute power corrupts absolutely."