Wesly's Soul to take

It was time to unlock the past of one of Nameless's more unruly soul's and his name was Wesly. This would be a challenge as Wesly was one of the more uncooperative souls that joined the collective and he believed he was still quite bitter. He was more or less tricked into being devoured and it took some time for Nameless to overpower his soul but eventually it came to pass. Unlocking his power might bring consequence but it was something that had to be done. Nameless would close his eyes so he could begin this would be a long day. His mind zoomed back to the scenario. “Punk!” shouted the boy named Lance standing over Gene. His fist connected with Gene’s face, bloodying his nose. “Don’t you ever show your sorry face around here again!” he said kneeing him in the stomach. The kid who had thrown the punch laughed and he and his friends walked out of the alley, cheering each other on. Gene Fisher pushed himself off the ground and wiped blood from his nose. He looked to Chipper, the three-legged dog at whom the other kids had been throwing rocks. Gene had tried to make them stop hurting the dog and received quite a beating in the process.

“Hey, boy.” Gene’s voice cracked. “It’s okay. You don’t have to be scared." Chipper was backed against the side of a building with fear in his eyes. Gene stood to pet the poor dog, but Chipper snapped at him. Gene recoiled and watched the ungrateful dog hobble out of the alley. Gene sighed and limped out of the alley. Hopefully, his father wouldn’t ask what had happened, but Gene knew he would. He would already be in a bad mood. His father had started chemo.

The next day, Gene found himself walking by the same alley and saw the same group of boys trying to coax a homeless man into buying beer for them. The homeless man refused and the boys spat on him. “Hey!” Gene said to Lance, who seemed to be the leader of their group. “Leave the man alone!”

“Well lookie here, boys.” Lance said tapping the shoulder of the guy standing next to him. “If it isn’t Mr. Hero. Come for seconds, huh? Well we have a busy schedule, but I think we can pencil you in.” He crossed his arms and his flunkies shrieked with laughter.

“We’ll see who comes out of this one.” Gene said to Lance, who was two years is elder. Lance’s flunkies “ooh”ed in delight and began chanting “Fight, Fight, Fight!”

The fight was on and Gene was actually doing well and landed a few good punches on Lance, who quickly became agitated. “Harold!” Lance said dodging one of Gene’s punches. The boy who Lance had called for came over and grabbed Gene’s arms and held them behind his back.

“Hey!” Gene said struggling to get away. Lance punched him in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. Gene shut his eyes, readying himself for another. In his ear, he heard Harold shriek in pain. Gene opened his eyes and saw that Lance’s fist had gone straight through him. He could only guess that it had hit Harold.

“Oh my god! Freak!” Lance said running from him and the rest of his posse not far behind.

Gene looked to the homeless man, who looked dumbfounded. “How’d you do that, boy?” he asked in a drunken whisper.

“I don’t…I don’t know.”

“What’s your name?”

“Gene."

“Well that ain’t normal. That ain’t normal, Gene.”
Victor Trent walked into the nearly-empty room clutching two files. “Pratt!” he shouted and a wiry man who had been busy typing on a laptop jumped. The office belonged to this wiry man and was kept rather messy due to all the work he had to do dealing with “specials.” Kevin Pratt was in charge of keeping up with the new specials who surfaced so they could keep tabs on all of them.

Kevin rubbed his eyes, “What is it, sir?” Victor had been his superior for only a year now and he was quite tired of his sudden outbursts.

“Another one has surfaced.” Victor said walking over to Kevin’s disheveled desk. He tossed a file onto the desk and Kevin immediately opened it. “In New York. An eyewitness saw him phase through another boy’s punch.”

“Phasing. That’s a nice power. Who was the witness?” Kevin said not looking up from the file.

“A homeless man.” Kevin gave Victor a skeptical glance, “Don’t give me that look, Pratt. The man said that the boy was in a fight with some other teenagers and he phased through one of their punches.”

“But, how can we be sure this man is telling the truth? Or that he wasn’t completely off his rocker?” Kevin asked looking through Gene’s file. He read the names of his parents and he recognized one of their names.

“Because there is another special in the family.” Victor said tossing the second file onto his desk. Kevin opened it.

“David Fisher.” He said reading the name on the file. “Gene’s father. I remember this guy.”

“Yes.” Victor nodded. “This man has the ability to take away any disease from any other person and eradicate them. It is known that people who possess this ability can take diseases such as AIDS from others, but they cannot erase them from their own body. Most of the more terminal diseases act in this way.”

“Fascinating.” Kevin remarked reading further into David’s file. Something caught his eye and he looked to Victor with his mouth agape. Victor nodded with a smug smile on his face.

“That’s right. It seems that David has cancer, but it wasn't originally his. Want to know who originally had it?” Victor asked grinning from ear to ear.
“Ginger.” David Fisher whispered to his ex-wife. The two were standing in Ginger’s living room. It was very late that night and it was storming outside. He had come down to Connecticut to give his ex-wife some very bitter-sweet news. A tear-stricken redhead named Ginger began to cry. David brought her into a tight embrace.

“Thank you.” She sniffed. “You didn’t have to do that, David. I would have never asked you to do anything like that.”

“Ginger, he’s our boy. There wasn’t any other choice, in my eyes. I had to take the cancer away.” He whispered into her ear. “Even if that means I have to go through it.”

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

“Trent!” Kevin said rushing into Victor’s office. He loved that he could be the one to shout for a change. “You’ll never believe what I just learned!” He rushed to the other side of Victor’s oddly-neat office and tossed a folder onto his desk.

“This had better be important, Pratt,” Grumbled Victor, who had been busy reading a file about a woman in Washington who could manipulate water.

“It is. You remember Gene Fisher and his father, correct?” Kevin asked opening David’s file for Victor and turning it to the final page. “Well it turns out that David made a stop to Connecticut to see his wife, and you’ll never guess what happened.” He pointed to the letter he had received that morning from St. Francis Medical Center in Connecticut. Victor read the letter, which was from one of the many, many doctors all over who monitored pregnancies of possible specials.

“She’s pregnant?” Victor asked Kevin with a grin of wonder
Ginger smiled and looked down at the tiny baby boy in her arms. “Hello, Wesley.” She whispered to the little boy. “You look so much like your father.” She said moving the blanket away from his face so she could see it.

There was a knock on the door and Dr. Brian Lawson and one of his nurses entered her room. “Hello, Ms. Prather.” He said walking over to the woman. “It’s time for little Wes to come back to the nursery.” Ginger frowned, but did as she was instructed. The nurse took Wesley in her arms and exited the room.

“He’s in good hands, Ms. Prather. You have nothing to worry about. Now, I suggest you get some sleep.” Dr. Lawson said and he exited the room.

He closed the door and spoke to the nurse. “Thank you Nurse Stutts, but I can take it from here. "I'm on my way to check on another patient and I can stop off by the nursery." Nurse Stutts was confused but nodded and handed Wesley over to him.

Dr. Lawson bid her farewell and walked towards the nursery. When he reached the nursery, he looked around and made sure no one was coming and disappeared into another room down the hall.

“The test results are negative, sir.” Kevin said to Victor a day later. “Wesley Prather does not show any signs of having received and ability from his father.”
“Dad!” A seventeen year old Gene shouted, “You said you would stop! The doctors said if you don’t stop smoking the cancer will get worse!” Gene situated himself in front of the door so his father couldn’t get out of the kitchen without confronting him.

“I’m fifty years old and I will do whatever I please. Now move out of my way!” Gene thrust his arm out in front of his father before he could leave. “Boy, I’ve smoke for years now and I’m not quitting. Ever since your momma…” Gene grimaced at the mention of his mother and David stopped talking. Gene never liked to talk about Ginger. He felt that Ginger abandoned him and his dad.

“I’m sorry, Gene.” David walked over to his son and put his hand around the back of his neck giving it a few light squeezes and making shushing noises, something David had done when Gene was a child and had awoken with a nightmare.

“I’ve already lost mom.” Gene said in a whisper. “I don’t want to lose you too.” He exited the room and sought comfort in his room.

David sighed and looked at the cigarette in his hand and tossed it out the window. He felt really bad pretending to be addicted so his son would not learn of the origin of the cancer, but he knew that it was for his own good. If Gene ever learned the truth, he would be devastated. David knew it was best.
“David Fisher is dead.” Pratt said entering into Victor’s office. “The cancer finally got the better of him.” He made his way across the room and walked to Victor’s desk. Over the years, the two had begun to understand each other and Kevin had been promoted to his partner.

“How is Gene reacting?” Victor asked looking up from the papers on his desk.

“Our sources say he’s acting like any normal person would. I don’t think David ever told him that the cancer was really his. Actually, I don’t think David ever told Gene he was special, at all.”

-----------

Ginger hurriedly entered into Wesley’s room and told him to get dressed. The six year old boy sat up in his bed. “Where are we going, Momma?” Wesley stood and looked around his room. Not long after Wesley was born did Ginger and he move from Connecticut to El Paso, Texas.

“To New York, sweetie!” Ginger said rushing around his room and picking clothes out of his dresser. “Isn’t it going to be fun?” She asked pulling out a black button up shirt. Though going to New York sounded like a blast to Wesley, Ginger seemed less enthused. Actually, she seemed sad.

Dressed in black so they could see the “grown-up play,” Wesley fidgeted in the back seat of the car. “Settle down, bud.” Ginger said. Though she had spoken to Wesley, he couldn’t help but feeling that her mind was somewhere else. She was dressed funnily. He marveled at the way his mother shielded her eyes from the sun. It looked like one of those white things he saw brides wearing, except it was black. He giggled and wondered if his mother was going to marry Superman, his current idol.

The car pulled to a stop and the two exited the vehicle and walked towards a place where a lot of other people were sitting. They were looking at a large polished box, and Wesley quickly recognized this place as a graveyard. He was slightly nervous that there was a ghost there that could go through any solid object, but he laughed at how silly he sounded. He couldn’t help but wonder what kind of play they were coming to see in a graveyard. It must be really something if they have it out here, he thought.

He went to go sit down by the polished box, but his mother stopped him. “Let’s stand over here in the shade, okay?” she said to him. Though it was a question, Wesley knew that she was really telling him they were going to stand there.

The play was really boring and everyone was crying. Wesley wondered why. It didn’t seem like a sad play at all.

After the play, Ginger told Wesley to go wait for her in the car. Wesley figured she was going to go talk to some of the people in the play, because she thought they did a good job.

“Gene.” A soft voice whispered. Gene had expected to see another one of his father’s coworkers who would probably say how good of a man his father had been, but he, instead, was met with the past. The sight of the red-head sent anger up his spine and malice filled his eyes.

“What are you doing here?” he spat acidly as he stood in front of the grave, as if protecting his father from the woman standing before him. The woman took a step forward but Gene shot her a piercing gaze.

She spoke, her voice shaking, “Gene, I know I’m not the person who you want to see, especially today, but--”

“You’re right, Mom!” Gene interrupted, “I don’t want to see you. You didn’t give a damn about him when he was alive so why should you care now? I haven’t heard any inkling of your existence for ten years!” Ginger seemed genuinely distraught over this fact and Gene took a morbid delight in her sorrow. “Did you know he only started smoking because of what you did to him? And that the only person who stood a chance at making him stop was off in El Paso? And now he’s dead, Mother!” He filled the last word with spite. “All because of you.” Nameless's mind began to flash red and his body filled with rage.

Ginger, tear-stricken, opened her mouth as if to say something, but, instead, took a step forward towards her son and reached out to him. A sudden pain stung Gene’s face and when he had realized his mother had slapped him, it was too late. She was gone.
He wasn’t supposed to be in there, but he knew she was hiding his big birthday surprise in the closet. Wesley hurried and pulled opened the closet door. He saw a box high above his almost-eight year old head. He, with the help of dining room chair, brought down the box.

Wesley looked around the bedroom as if his mother would enter any moment. He knew she wouldn’t, because she was at work. He turned back to the box and eagerly opened it. He sighed when he saw the box was filled with nothing but old pictures.

He abandoned the box and stood on the dining room chair again. He looked through the closet and brought most of the boxes and things down, but didn’t see whether or not his mother had gotten him the new Super-Soaker he wanted. Defeated, he went to put everything back to the way it was when he came into the room. He came to the box filled with pictures. He looked to the clock on the nightstand beside his mother’s bed. Ginger wouldn’t be home for another two hours. Wesley decided he had time to look though it.

About halfway through the box and with pictures scattered all over the room, Wesley came to another picture. He giggled because it was of the day he was born. He went to throw it aside onto the growing pile of pictures, but something caught his eye. The date was wrong. It wasn’t just incorrect. It was dated thirteen years before Wesley was born and a different day and month altogether. Actually, his mother seemed much younger than in the other pictures of his birth. He frowned and turned the picture over. There, written in his mother’s handwriting, were the words, “Ginger and Gene Fisher.” Shocked, Wesley looked up from the picture. “I have a brother?” he whispered to himself.
The pain from David’s death still hadn’t left Gene.

“Gene, I haven’t heard from you in a while. I just wanted to see if you were okay. Umm…everyone is getting together at Beth’s place on Friday. You should come. You really need to--” The pressing of the Erase Message button stopped the message.

“Gene,” the next message said, “We missed you at Beth’s I—um—I guess you were busy or…” The voice dropped its sentence, “Gene, I really think you should get out of your apartment. I know it can’t be good since you dad lived there, too. Why don’t you come and stay with me for a while. Okay. Give me a call and let me know. Please. I’m worried about you.” Gene erased the message.

Eventually, Gene began erasing all of the messages he received before he listened to them. Nameless's mind must have been fighting at this point.


It was raining, believe it or not. The temperature was just warm (if one could call it that) enough that the falling snow could not make it to the ground frozen. Instead, intermittent nearly-freezing drops of rain were falling rather heavily and gave the asphalt of the nearly-deserted street a good soaking. Young Wesley Prather, a boy of only eight, was standing for protection from the precipitation underneath the awning of a delicatessen, which seemed to be rather low on business since the owner of the deli had already tried to get the young boy to buy a few slices of ham two times. Eventually, the shop owner stopped asking and locked up his store tightly before heading home. It hadn’t occurred to Wes that the man could have been trying to help him by inviting him inside. He was too preoccupied with his own thoughts and troubles.

For months now the only thing on Wesley’s mind had been his brother Gene. He had been through too much and nearly died five times in order to find his brother. Now that he finally knew that he lived in New York City, Wesley couldn’t believe that finding a man in a city would be the hardest part of his journey. He had fought Supers, Rage, and Villains, teamed up with The SHIELD projects, survived an attack on The Hideout, escaped from NYU and the police, and flown thousands of miles to find Gene. There was no way he was going to give up now. He had been in New York for about a month and he had met a few new people at a coffee shop. They were nice, but they weren’t his brother.

The young boy shivered and he was brought out of his thoughts suddenly. How long had he been seeking shelter underneath the awning of the nearly-doomed delicatessen? At least an hour, Wesley surmised. Across the street, which was deserted due to the fact that he was in an old part of town, Wesley saw the tiniest of coffee shops. Thinking that a big cup of hot chocolate sounded like it would do wonders for his cold and shivering body, Wesley reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny wad of cash, which he had earned playing the saxophone in various locations around the city.

Wesley quickly flew to the coffee shop and pushed the door, which squeaked obnoxiously, open with a bit of difficulty. It was apparent that no one frequented this particular spot, since it was nearly deserted save for a couple of men. Wesley walked to the counter and ordered his hot chocolate from the man behind the counter who gave him quite a look for being out in the city alone; especially during the rain. Wesley didn’t feel the need to explain himself to the man, so he turned quietly to find a good spot to sit. He always favored the window.

Unfortunately for Wesley, the only window seat was currently occupied by the only other person in the coffee shop, who seemed to be enthralled by the day’s events in the local newspaper. He heaved a deep sigh and decided he’d rather not bother whoever it was behind the paper. He turned to take a seat at a nearby table to allow his drink to warm his body. He heard the man cough and, out of the corner of his brown eyes, saw the man put down his paper for the relief of a drink of coffee.

Wesley’s young eyes widened and the hot chocolate fell from his hands and splashed against his pant legs. Quietly and with his mouth slightly agape in a curious mixture of awe and fear, Wesley moved toward the man, who had looked up at him curiously whenever Wesley didn’t react to the warm liquid spilling down his pants. Wesley’s voice cracked and he looked at the man, “Gene?”

Gene blinked at the little boy standing in front of him, and he leaned forward out of curiosity. How did this little kid know his name? “Hello there,” Gene said trying to sound as friendly as possible to make the kid feel a little less embarrassed about spilling his drink down his pants. However, the kid didn’t seem to be embarrassed whatsoever, in Gene’s opinion. Actually, he didn’t seem like he noticed at all. The man behind the counter had, and excused himself to go scour the place for a mop. “How do you know my name?”

Wesley’s eyes were like saucers when the man said that his name was Gene. He couldn’t contain his excitement and his tiny arms quickly wrapped around the brother for whom he had been searching for what seemed like ages now. “I finally found you! After all this time!” Wesley felt Gene’s body tighten as if he was unsure what he should be doing. Wesley looked up into Gene’s eyes and quickly recognized them as his own. “Don’t you know who I am, Gene?” Wesley asked curiously, “I’m your brother, Wesley.”

Gene’s face contorted into an odd expression of confusion and wonder. How could this kid be his brother? His father had never mentioned another child to him. Yet there was something about the kid that looked familiar. Wesley’s eyes were the same glassy brown as his. Gene’s heart began racing and he felt like everyone could hear it. “Wesley?” he said surprised that he could speak at all. The child before him nodded and buried his head back into his chest. “You say you’re my brother?” Gene took Wesley by the shoulders and pushed him backwards a little to gage the kid’s reaction.

“Yes.” Wesley said clutching his brother’s arms with his hands, which were shaking a little from the excitement. “My mother. Her name is Ginger Prather. She’s your mother too. And my father. His name is David Fisher. He’s your dad too. Momma didn’t tell me about you. I guess Daddy didn’t tell you about me.”

Gene’s mouth fell open whenever Wesley said the names of both of their parents. Could this kid actually be telling the truth? “What are you doing out here? Where is your mom?” Gene couldn’t bear to bring himself to say that Ginger Prather had been his mother. Not after she did what she had done to his father. The man behind the counter entered again and seemed quite angry. He muttered something under his breath about a stolen mop and told the brothers that he would be going to another coffee shop, whose owner he “knew” took the allegedly stolen mop. Neither of the brothers tore their eyes away from each other. Wesley’s mouth quivered whenever he tried to speak.

“Don’t you know?” Wesley’s shuddering voice uttered, “Mom’s dead.” Wesley watched as Gene’s expression did not change. He did, however, release Wesley’s shoulders. “I thought you knew. We called you and left you messages. She left me to you.” An odd feeling swept over Wesley whenever he realized that Gene was all Wesley had in the world. Gene and a hat full of cash and a saxophone.

“I don’t check my…” Gene’s voice said trailing off. He hadn’t checked a single message since his father had died. He would simply erase all messages out of fear that it would be another mourner who would say how great of a man his father had been. It had been an irrational fear, but Gene often found himself to be irrational. “Are you sure though?” Wesley nodded. “You’re my brother.” Wesley nodded again.

“I found a picture in Mom’s closet one day,” Wesley said after clearing his throat, “It was a picture of her and a little tiny baby. I thought it was of me and her, but when I turned it over it said ‘Ginger Prather and Gene Fisher.’ I knew I had a brother then.” Wesley paused and Gene closed his eyes as if he was trying to mentally see the photograph of which Wesley spoke. “Then when Mom…” Wesley couldn’t bring himself to say ‘died.’ “Her will said that I was going to go live with you in New York City.” Gene didn’t speak and Wesley’s eyes filled with tears out of fear that Gene didn’t believe his story.

“If you don’t believe me,” Wesley said, “I’ll prove it. When I was little, Mom and me came up here for a funeral and I didn’t realize it until a little while ago that it had been Daddy’s funeral. He died of cancer, right?” Gene’s eyes forced themselves open and Wesley could see that he was holding back tears. “What’s wrong, Gene?”

“I saw Mom that day.” Gene said nearly inaudible. “I drove her away and told her that I didn’t want to see her. I blamed her for Dad’s death. She just wanted to tell me something.” Gene looked to the young boy in front of him and a small smile graced his pale lips. “Now I know what it was.” He looked out the window at the rain falling and trickling down the side of the glass. The sun was setting and dotted where there were no dark grey rain clouds were a few clouds that were an odd mixture of pink and orange. The sun peaked out from behind a cloud for just a moment, before a rather ominous cloud covered it up. It was enormous and one of the darkest clouds he’d ever seen. Its color was nearly the same as the jet black cat that liked to hang around his apartment every now and then. Gene couldn’t help shake the feeling that the cloud would never go away and he’d never see the sun again.

Wesley’s quiet voice brought Gene out of his irrational fears. “If you don’t want me, I’ll understand.” Wesley said taking Gene’s looking away from him as a bad sign. “All I ask is that you help me get back to Texas. I want to see my friends again. But I want to stay with you more.” Wesley said his eyes filling with tears. He wiped them away as Gene turned to look at him.

Gene hesitated for just a second, the severity of taking in a young boy (not to mention his long lost brother) finally sinking in. He then took Wesley in his arms and whispered in his ear, “Of course you can stay with me.” His hand went to the back of Wesley’s neck and massaged it gently. “Everything is going to be fine, little bro.”

Victor and Kevin had just returned from Texas. “I still think we could have greatly benefited from bringing the kid back here for testing. Maybe we could have figured out what ability he has.”

“Had.” Trent corrected, “And what’s done is done. Wesley Prather is dead along with his mother and father. And his brother has no idea of his existence. It will be as if he never existed.”

“I guess you’re right.” A knock came from the other side of the door and a tall slender woman opened the doorway.

“Agent Trent, you have a visitor.” She told him.

“Did he say who he was?” Victor asked.

“He wouldn’t tell me his name, but he did say he had information on the Prather case. He said you would know what he was talking about.”

Though this bit of information came as a shock to him, Victor remained stolid. “I’ll be right down.” The woman closed the door.

“Who the hell could that be?” Kevin asked bewildered.

“I’ll tell you when I get back.” Victor exited Kevin’s office and walked down the hallway and into his own. There, to his surprise was none other than Brian Lawson. “How unforeseeable. I thought I shot you.”

“You did.” Brian said standing. “You just didn’t kill me.” Brian quickly took out his own gun and shot three times, each time sending a bullet through Victor’s chest.

Kevin heard the gunshots, like many people in the offices and was first to the scene. With his gun drawn he opened Victor’s door to see his partner’s lifeless body. He looked to see Brian Lawson standing over him. “You son of a…”

BANG.

Kevin shot Brian and this time, he made sure he was dead. “Try regrowing your head, bastard.” He said spitting on the doctor’s body as he ripped it off with his bare hands. It was then that Namless's eyes would snap open.