David Johnson walked into the conference room on the seventh floor of C.O.R.E. headquarters. He saw Carolyn Cross sitting at the head of the long table smiling with her arms folded.
“So, how did it go?” Carolyn asked.
“Well I can fly now," David Johnson. "That guy, that Benjamin King fellow. Was he real? Or was it all a dream?"
“Unfortunately, I'm not a liberty to talk about that.” Carolyn replied. “But you have completed your training. So I think you’re ready for your first assignment? I need you to do is head Downtown. Our readings indicate some kind of massive energy spike coming from the Downtown region. Why don't you test you're new flying abilities and check it out.”
“Got it,” David said as he was leaving the room. “I’ll let you know what I find.”
“And David,” Carolyn stopped him. “Be careful.”
David gave her a thumbs up and left headquarters. Carolyn Cross was still sitting at the table in deep contemplation. Then a boy with brown dreadlocks faded into the room from nowhere and put a hand on Carolyn’s shoulder.
“Are you worried about David?” Walker asked.
“Yeah,” Carolyn replied. “He might not be prepared to deal with what he finds Downtown."
“I’m scared too,” Walker said. “But the Lord said this has to happen. So we have to trust him, and trust David to make the right choice.”
When David got Downtown, he flew as high as he could and scanned the area for trouble. He searched and searched. Nothing. After while, he began to think Carolyn had made a rare mistake. Perhaps the energy readings were wrong. But something in the pit of his stomach was telling him otherwise.
David Johnson circled the area once more, not noticing the person who was watching him from the ground behind one of the skyscrapers. The young man was wearing an advanced battle suit, tracking David’s every move with a device on his wrist.
“Finally,” the young man said, his face shrouded in the shadows behind the building.
Then he stepped out the darkness and the light revealed his face. The young man had ocean blue eyes and fine blond hair, the kind that only the best conditioners were worthy of. And when he grinned at the sight of David Johnson, he showed his sharp, shining white teeth, as if all he had to do was smiled to prove that he was better than you. There was a large, red scar running down the side of his face.
George Dean had finally returned to exact his revenge.