Infamous: Raising Hell

"H-How did you do that?!" Trish demanded in panic, taking a step back. The girl lied on the ground before me, blinking, and breathing. Her eyes grew wide, and then confused. "Why am I on the ground?... In a bodybag?"

"Sorry..." I murmured, and I unzipped it, she sat up and gripped her head. "Ow... It hurts like a bitch... What the hell happened?"

She looked from me up to Trish. "Trish?..." The girl asked in surprise, and Trish reacted quite the same, which was a surprise, "Amy?..." She whispered, and hurried forward to hug the girl.

"Oh my God... I thought you were dead, you... You..." Trish stops herself from saying anything else and firmly hugs the girl. The joy in their embrace is undescribible, and I'm still confused. I look at my hands, and I'm still horrified. I'm in a numb state of mind where I can't process this,

"You know her?" I demanded in surprise and confusion.

"Yes!" Trish blubbered through tears of joy and a smile, "She's my sister!"

They proceeded to embrace, and my mind tore away into dark oblivion. I held up my shaking, black veined hands with fear. What had I become?...



I stepped back inside the hospital. I felt numb, and for the first time in my life, my biggest fear was myself. Trish and her sister Amy proceeded to hug and blubber over lost time. Of course, I was beyond happy for them, but I was too weirded out by how it'd happened to fully feel the emotion.

I'd just brought her dead sister back to life... The heavy, startling reality was setting in...

I lied down on my bed, and squeezed my eyes shut, and forced other thoughts into my mind. I tried to imagine warm days, and the way the ocean around the city looked in the summer, but all I could see was death. Endless, horrific visions of death...

The room door creaked open, and I opened one eye to see Trish walking towards me witha tray of food, another cup of painkillers, and another glass of water. She set them down on the bedside table silently, and took in a deep breath before a huge smile came across her face. She looked down at the floor in disbelief, "I don't know how you did it... Or why... Why anyone, let alone her, but... Thank you."

I nodded slowly, still trying to take it in. It was impossible to measure, and decide if it'd actually happened or not, or if it was just a hallucination induced by all the pain meds. My blackened hands and healed flesh were the living proof that it had been real.

"However..." She sighed, and fiddled with the hem of her sweater for a moment of thought. "You and I both know this isn't normal, and you're going to need help."

"Like a therapist?" I demanded in a slightly rude tone. I took it back and softened it, "Do you think I'm insane?"

She shook her head and furrowed her eyebrows, "No, I don't mean that kind of help. You need someone who can train you, and give you an idea of what's going on... It's like I said before, you're not the only one."

"There's others who can do this?!" I hissed in disbelief.

"Not that, particuarly, but similar, impossible things... Now, as much as I hate to refer you to him, I really have no other choice. When you're fit to leave the hospital, I'll arrange a meeting with you, to meet my husband..."

"You're husband is like this?" I wondered.

"Yes. Only his powers are far different. He was just like you, actually, he carried you here on tha night of the blast, before he passed out in the lobby. And just like you, he went through some sort of changing phase, and within a few days, me and his friend Zeke, were talking to him, when a charge of electricity shot out of his hand. Scared the hell out of us all, I thought he was going to die. He shocked the heart monitor, and anything electrical that he touched... He thought he was a monster..." She sighed and shook her head at the memory.

"Is that what you think he is?" I asked hesitantly after a pause, "You refer to him with such malice."

She wringed her hands in a moment of silence, "I don't know what to think of him." She admitted at last. "Eat up, at your rate of healing, you could be out on the streets as early as tomorrow afternoon."

She patted my shoulder in reassurance on her way out.



The following morning, after I'd slept a restless sleep, I was up, in the shower, washing the bits of puverized ash from my hair, and scrubbing the charcoal stains off my skin. The one discoloration that wouldn't abandon my skin was the veined lace gloves. They were kind of gross to look at. Tiny black veins under my skin pulling together to form woven rose shapes.

I turned off the water and stepped out, drying my hair and patting my skin dry, I began to change into the fresh set of clothes Trish left me earlier that morning before making her rounds to check other patients.

I pulled the simple black t-shirt over my head, that had a logo from a cafe somewhere in the Neon District. The jeans were a little baggy on me, so I rolled up the hems a few times.

Heading back into the adjorning bedroom, I noticed Trish had also left me a pair of black lace up leather boots.

As I put on each item, I began to feel more and more like a person, not an object of experimentation. Where people were constantly watching you, judging you on what you could do.

Taking a deep breath, I looked in the mirror and straightened the shirt on my collar bone, and combed through my long blonde hair a few times before deciding I looked acceptable enough to leave my room.

There weren't many people in the halls when I stepped out, a few women and men who looked like volunteer EMT's like Trish was. They greeted me on their busy bustle from room to room.

"Hey!"

I stopped walking and looked over my shoulder. Trish and her sister, who was now geared up with an EMT armband approached me.

"I contacted Cole this morning, here's the address you can meet him." She handed me a sticky note with the street and apartment building number. "I don't know how much he can help you, but maybe it can give you some reassurance about youself?"

"Thank you." I murmured, slipping the piece of paper into my backpocket.

"You know what? I don't think you ever told me your name." She smiled, putting her hands on her hips expectantly.

"Oh," I laughed, realizing I never had, "Sorry, I'm Talia Steinbock." We shook hands formally, now knowing one another's name.

"Good luck, you're always welcome here." She smiled at me one more time before hugging me goodbye.



I walked out the front doors of the hospital into the new world. The sky was blue today, less smoke in the air, but overall, Empire City did look like it was in the middle of some kind of crisis over power.

There were knocked over trashcans and litter fluttering lifelessly across the brick parking lot as I made my way towards the street on foot. I pulled out the address card from my jeans pocket and read it over again.

"Alright..." I sighed, pushing my hair back off my forehead, and heading east.

I furrowed my brow as I walked. The further I moved into the city, the more tragedy was evident. There were homeless people sleeping on the sidewalk, people bundled up in layers of clothing, and even a couple digging in trashcans. Though, the mega-screen at the intersection was still playing ads for the 24 hour sushi bar downtown, so we weren't that bad off yet with no power.

I jogged up the blocks, able to move much smoother and faster than I could remember, and after running seven blocks straight without feeling winded, it was clear that it was one more abnormality to add to the growing list. I had an abundance of energy and breath.

"Okay... This must be it..." I looked up from the card at a slightly run down apartment with victorian ironwork over the windows. "Unusual meeting place, though..." I murmured, looking down at the card one last time. Below the address and apartment number, Trish had circled the word "Roof".

I shrugged, put away the piece of paper and headed to the front door. There was no one manning the lobby when I got inside, though the air conditioner was on, maintaining an eery dead-cold in the room.

I passed the elevator that had an "Out of order" sign taped to it's crooked doors, and headed for the stairs. I followed flight after flight of apartment doors, and windows that gave a peek at the mayhem across the pier at the Historic District island across the bridge. Finally, I found the grey metal covered in graffitti, marked with a metal plate as the stairway to the roof. I looked up the stairwell hesitantly, considering for a moment what a freak I was, what would he be?

I held my breath as I climbed the steep steps, pushing open the last door, and sheilding my eyes from the abrupt rays of bright, blinding sunlight.

"Uh... Cole? Were you expecting someone?"

I looked around, the rooftop was converted into some sort of low-budget temorary apartment with odds and ends. Like mannequins lining the rooftop, wearing an assortment of odd clothing from fedoras to fur coats, matted from sitting in the rain. To my left, was a sagging maroon couch in front of a blank TV screen. A thickly built man with a pair of black sunglasses sat there in a bomber jacket of some kind, looking up at me in surprise, making me feel the opposite of welcome.

I contemplated darting back down the steps before he could attract the attention of his friend.

The other man, wore a courior's jacket and pants getup, with a sling backpack and cellphone attached to the strap. He had a Marine style crew-cut, and sharp, blue eyes, he turned from looking over the edge of the apartment building to look from his friend to me, heavy accusation and curiousity in his eyes.

"Yeah, Trish sent her over."

"What for?" The other man wondered in confusion.

"Easy, Zeke," the man named Cole cautioned lightheartedly, but his voice was still defensive and low. He turned, approaching me easily, but there was a wariness to his eyes. "She's like me."

"Oh, well, great." Zeke replied sarcastically, leaning back against the couch to get a better view of our exchange. "Another freak?" He joked, but Cole ignored him.

"Let me guess," Cole stopped a few feet in front of me, certainly not the man I imagined when Trish described him, "You were brought into this damn nightmare through that explosion, am I right?"

"That's right." My first words to him were. I watched him with narrowed eyes, alert of his every movement. He seemed like a quiet, dangerous man. Reserved and kind enough, but there was something dark inside him.

"I saved you, if I remember..." He paused in thought, lifting his chin a bit as if it'd help him decide yes or no. "You were the burning girl, right?"

"Yeah..." I winced at the abrupt memory.

"You shouldn't be alive right now," Cole told me matter-of-factly, pausing the short pace he'd begun, "Neither of us should be, but something in that bomb caused it, and whatever it is, made us some sort of superhuman."

I stared at him blankly. I hadn't even considered the whole 'Superman' theory.

"Here, I'll show you. Zeke, you gotta pick up that package, right?"

"Yeah... Uh, what are you going to do?" He stood up and walked halfway towards Cole.

"A quick test." Cole replied shortly.

"Test?" Zeke echoed, "What kind of test?"

"Just to be sure...." Cole took a half step toward me, and grabbed my hand, an electric current ran up my arm, I jerked back in surprise, but he pulled me towards the edge of the roof.

"If you're like me, and want some training, you'll be able to survive this fall." He pointed below us, where five stories down, was the hard, cold sidewalk, busy with people.

"What?!" I demanded in shock, pulling back.

"It's easy, just don't think about it." Cole suggested, and without even a warning, he pulled me with him, and he leapt off the roof, out into the air.

At first, we just hovered there in the air, above the busy city street, and then we began to fall, towards earth with no hope of slowing down. I screamed as the ground got closer, and tensed up for impact. My hand wrenched tightly around his as we fell five stories, the people below looking up, fleeing the sidewalk in panic.

Righting my feet, I braced myself for the painful impact, squeezing my eyes shut... All I felt was the balls of my feet colliding with the concrete as though I'd only leapt from a step.

Warily, I opened my eyes, and the first thing I saw were the many pairs of accusive eyes trained on me. The people were bundled up in winter layers, tears in the fabric, it looked like they'd been on the street for sometime.

I felt something hard hit my shoulder and I looked to my right, a terrified young boy held another chunk of coal that had rolled off a coal train from the tressel above. His fist posed to throw another. It shocked me how much things had changed.

"You'll get used to it." Cole muttered, tearing my concentration away to follow him up the sidewalk. People pressed themselves to the grimey brick walls of the apartment

"Oh boy!" Someone shouted after us, their voice angry and sarcastic. "Another fucking freak!"

Another sharp blow to my shoulder, just below where the first had hit. I glanced over my shoulder to glare at them all before hurrying to catch up with Cole.

"So... Yes then?"

"Yes what?" He muttered in annoyance, looking like his thoughts were elsewhere.

"I'm a superhuman?"

"Something like that." He replied, not giving any other details besides that. "Zeke has some things to pick up from a guy downtown. It'll give me more time to explain things and show you some tricks. Do you know how to drain electricity yet?"

I stared at him, dumbfounded. "What?"

"Electricity drain? The sole power source your existence relies upon?" He hinted harshly, looking at me out of the corner of his eye like he thought I was stupid.

"Oh... I don't use power." I murmured in confusion, trying to tip toe through the tulips with this asshole because he already seemed unhinged and irritated.

He stopped walking all together to give me a pleasant, sarcastic smile. "Okay, what the hell are you, then?"

"I can raise the dead." I told him."

He laughed, which was not the reaction I'd been expecting. "Oh, really?" He asked with forced enthusiasm, "And how's that? Raising skeletons?"

It pissed me off that he would go straight to treating me like shit. I glared at him and my temper flared. "Hey, asshole, I raised your wife's dead sister yesterday, give me some God damn credit you degrading asswipe."

First, he was angry, then he processed the words and wary amazement took it's place. "Trish didn't say anything about that." He finally responded, neither indicating rather or not he believed me. I sighed, hanging my head. "Fine." I muttered, "I'm lying! What's next?"

"I'm not saying you're a liar, I'm just saying I want proof." He replies nonchalantly, continuing around the next corner. "But I guess it's proof enough that you knew she had a sister at all."

I lingered a few steps behind him as we mad our way through allies and down busy streets, before we met up with Zeke in front of an old appliance warehouse. The doors were boarded over and the windows, where exposed between planks, were broken.

"My guy's gonna meet us here." Zeke told us. I noted that he had a jittery, excited, and impatient attitude about him.

"What's he bringing?" I asked conversationally, receiving annoyed glances in my direction. I sighed, pacing away from the storefront, tucking my hands into my jean pockets. "Fine."

Between the two of them, they weren't too friendly, which I guess I could understand. They seemed like age-old friends, so letting someone new into their small, close circle of trust would be hard. I didn't intend on being their friend, anyways.

Plus, I was the new, weird superhuman who showed up without much interduction, demanding answers while swearing on my life I could raise the dead.

The murky grey clouds that loomed over the city began to disburse, leaving a bright, warm sun to warm my skin. It was a nice feeling compared to being in the cold, dark hospital for days.

"You recovered well." Cole suddenly says, and I look back to be sure he was talking to me. He leaned against the front door of the warehouse, arms crossed across the front of his courier's jacket, a cold blue stare settled intently on my face. I frown. "What do you mean?

"Well, let's say you looked pretty close to being in a bargain bucket of fried chicken when I got you to the hospital." An amused smirk slinked across his face and I gave him a small, unamused smile.

"Yeah, I guess it's okay... Aside from these gross looking gloves." I held up my hands for him to see and Zeke's eyes widened. "Whoa! Gross!"

Cole rolled his eyes at his friend. "Can't say I've seen anything like that yet."

"Here we go."

I looked to my right, a man was just exiting an alley that connected to the large parking lot behind the warehouse. He was pulling a glittery pink children's rolling suitcase behind him. The whole thing jostled every time he pulled it over a lump in the asphalt.

It most certainly did not belong to him, though. He had a thick, grimey looking beard, and wore a faded, dirty trucker's cap, flannel shirt over a stained white tank top and jeans so smeared in grease and other foriegn substances that it was hard to tell what color they originally were.

"Zeke!" He greeted, giving the big man a one handed wave as he approached us.

"You got the stuff?" Zeke walked towards him to talk about the trade.

"What is it? Drugs?" I asked Cole in a whisper. He shrugged, "Techinally, they are. We need to distribute them at all the pandemic medical sites for the injured and sick."

It wasn't the answer I was expecting, honestly. I thought maybe they wanted the drugs so they could get high and block out all the other problems this new life had given them. I furrowed my brow in thought. "That's very kind."

"It's just being a normal citizen." He scoffed in annoyance.

"Normal citizens don't go out of their way to do things like this." I noted, struggling to keep a calm tone with the jackass.

His cold eyes shifted to my face and he stared at me for a long moment before responding. "There's heroes in everyday situations. All the volunteer EMT's have no experience, still, they've stepped up to help. And that's about the same thing."

His tone told me he was done talking about this. He closed the conversation completely by walking away from me, to Zeke.

"Where'd you get the stupid suitcase?" Cole asked with a frown, kicking the wheel of the sparkly case. The bearded man rolled his eyes and puffed out his chest pridefully "When the end'ova world comes knockin', you can't complain about what you can get your hands on."

"Fair enough." Cole shrugged.

"Zeke," he addressed his friend, "I'm gonna take whatsherface to check out some things, get her caught up. You got this handled?"

"Sure do." Zeke responded confidently, "Be back within an hour for distrubution, yeah?"

"Sure. Come on." Cole muttered.

I followed him away from Zeke and the bearded man, hesitant to ask any questions. Luckily, he started a new conversation.

"Because our abilites are so vastly different, it'll be harder for me to teach you things. You're gonna learn more about yourself through trail and error. It's how I discovered all of my abilities. So... For now, we'll head around town, figuring out things as we go... You said you had a resurrection ability? How does it work, have you learned any limits?"

I shake my head, "None yet. I felt pretty drained after doing it the first time, like it was pulling life from myself to resurrect her. After I rested up, I felt fine again."
\
"It sounds like your ability has major setbacks." He noted nonchalantly, "Since I'm a power conduit, I absorb energy through anything electrical, and I got new powers when exposed to massive amounts of electricity. You, on the otherhand... I don't know how to unlock those abilities. You'll need a more efficient way of resting that can keep you in battle-"

"Whoa, battle?"

He slowed to look at me with narrowed eyes. "If you haven't noticed, Empire City has been placed under Martial Law. No one in or out of the city, meaning everyone's going fucking insane in this hell hole. On top of the crazy, homeless people, we got bigger problems, reapers, other conduits... We're in a shit boat right now and we need all hands on deck. Can you handle that?"

"That's a lot to handle." I mutter. "What am I supposed to do? Stare people down with a death gaze? What am I supposed to learn?"

He spun around on a dime, pointed his hand straight up at an apartment building, curling his fingers slightly, sending a trained, precise shot of electricity shot from his palm, carving a perfect bullet hole in the glass of a window on the third floor.

"You need to learn to do something like that."