Chapter Five

            “Damn it all!” Zorb yelled as he threw a glass at the wall in rage, it shattering to pieces.

            “Zorb, calm down!” Zita said. “So he beat everyone on your active roster--”

            “So? SO?!” Zorb whipped around. “Did you not hear the rest of your sentence? That human adolescent defeated Korak, Smooth, Graw and Gnarl. He beat those last two at the SAME TIME!! He even forced me to fall back and rethink our strategy! My father would never have done that. That boy has shown his superiority to everyone on our active roster—”

            Zorb’s expression changed from frustration to realization.

            “Our active roster…!” Zorb said as he wrapped his arms around her slender waist.

Zorb kissed Zita on the lips.

“Zita, I’m sorry, I should’ve seen the genius in what you were trying to say.”

            “Yes, you should’ve,” Zita admonished him playfully. “Now, who’s getting the call?”

            A smile of devious, ingenious imagination came over his face.

            “I think I know. Give me the communicator.”

            The school was a buzz the next day over a fourth Spektrum color, and how well that fourth form took care of two enemies at once. Several students were asking the same questions: What color could possibly be next? There are so many to choose from, it’d be impossible to guess. Cyndi’s friend Jen was shocked and thrilled at how her favorite color blue turned out to be exactly the one The Spektrum had used just the other day.

            Steven was probably the only one who had a true inkling of which color the next Code would be.  After coming home from school yesterday, Steven took a look at his game.  He had been meaning to see what the electric surge did to the game itself over the weekend, but his two little brothers had hogged the system.

            Everything had checked out fine: the game loaded up smoothly, there were no problems with the audio, the controls were the same, and his characters will still saved to the memory card.

            Looking at the characters felt odd, for some reason. As if he could see his own progress in actual numbers. He remembered that the characters’ overall levels had been at the minimum, level 10. After less than a week, the four he had used so far--Silver, Red, Yellow, and even Blue--had gone up to level 15. Black was still at 10, and he hadn’t heard from that voice, which he started to refer to as “Computer,” (that is, when he addressed it by a name), on whether Code Black was unlocked yet. The voice seemed to only respond when it was urgent, such as when Zorb and his thugs appeared. 

            Computer must feel it’s only important to tell me when it’s an emergency, he had thought to himself.

            After looking over his design for Code Black again, Steven knew that his costume would include black skinny jeans, finger gloves, elbow pads, and a black tank top.  His hair would be black, much darker than its usual coffee brown. The color Code Black’s eyes would be were hard to discern. They were a dark shade, but he wasn’t sure of what color.

            Additionally, Steven wasn’t sure what Spektrum Code Black’s mentality would be. Except for Blue, Steven could tell a hint of lightheartedness and relaxed confidence had come over him when he was the other Codes. Blue was confident, but focused on getting the job done and not on how fancy or dynamic his moves were. True, Blue’s display of brute force through spine busters and spear tackles seemed to impress the students, but not in the same way Red’s fast pace and acrobatic attacks did. The question was, “How would Black treat a fight?” Meaning, how would his mindset and mentality be reflected in his fighting style? Would he be more serious than Blue? There was probably no chance of him being even more laid-back than Red; he remembered how Red sarcastically introduced himself to Korak, Zorb’s giant mustard-yellow minion.  Or would he be somewhere in the middle, like Silver was?  This issue pressed on the back of his mind all the way to the next morning.

            Band class was the same as always that time of year. Since it was late autumn and regular high school football season was over, there was no more practicing annoying versions of songs like “Sweet Georgia Brown” and “I Feel Good.” Now it was all about the upcoming Winter Concert.

            The teacher/conductor, Mr. Reese, had chosen an arrangement that sounded great on paper: a march to start it off; a medley involving three short songs, one peppy, one gloomy, and one that was a love song; and a band interpretation of Disney’s Aladdin. Since this was the first day of rehearsals with these new songs, it was to be expected that not everyone played on beat, or on key. Also, it was a given that Mr. Reese would be a bit more forgiving when it came to those mistakes. And as always, Mr. Reese expected the students to practice and even mark the places in the song where they had made mistakes, so that those mistakes wouldn’t be made the next time.

            Steven’s next class, Graphic Design, started a new project. The first part of this project was name research: students will go to designated websites that specialize in giving the meanings of names, and will look up their first name, surname, and even their middle name (or names) if desired. This will help in the next stage, in which students will design symbols or logos that utilize images related to the meanings of their names.

            The class got to work quickly, since the research stage was easy enough.  Steven went to the first website on the teacher’s list, and began searching for his names.

            The name “Steven” itself meant “crown,” as in kings, princes, and nobility. His surname, “Michaels,” which was obviously just the plural of “Michael,” was a Hebrew name meaning “Who is like God?” Meanwhile, his first middle name, “Gary,” was related to Guerrero, the Spanish word for “warrior.” However, his second of two middle names, “Brown,” was more than just a color.

            The name “Brown” was connected to the bear. One route of understanding suggested the cuddly and cute teddy bear, the adorable children’s toy. The other was way to interpret the connection was its cultural symbolism, namely Celtic. The Celts saw bears as symbols of great strength and knowledge, and King Arthur’s name even had origins related to the bear. 

            “But not only does the bear symbolize strength and wisdom, the bear also symbolizes the primal ferocity and berserker spirit that wishes to rule over a warrior.”

            Steven read that last sentence with awe, for he was amazed by what he had learned, as well as a little worried, maybe even scared.

            Putting the four names together created a descriptive image of who he was as a person. The first name combined with his last, or surname, to describe Steven’s outer image, who he is normally: kind, and knows what is morally right. His two middle names was therefore the inner Steven: a brave warrior, strong and wise. But also one who fought against an inner rage. That was the reason Steven was worried.

            Steven wondered how this sentiment would be reflected in Code Black’s fighting style. Steven knew what a “berserker” was: a special class of warrior that was normally docile, but lost all control in battle, destroying anyone or anything that got in his way, and only stopped when victory was obtained. Was Code Black going to be a ruthless, destructive fighter?

            No, he won’t! “He” is me, and I’m not like that at all.

            But what the site said was that all men, all humans, have a natural instinct for violent actions as a part of a primal urge. The many wars and battles throughout the history of mankind are proof of that. Then perhaps Code Black was just the dormant aggression deep inside him, waiting to be let loose?

            Would it matter? It would help win the fights against Zorb and his goons easier, right? Maybe it won’t be so bad. In fact, the title “berserker” seems pretty cool.

            Steven relaxed and went back to work, looking for images related to what he had just found, gladly accepting the returning prickle as if it were an old friend.

            “What do you think The Spektrum’s ‘origins’ are?” Caitlin opened The Spektrum Fan Club’s conversation with.

            “‘Origin?’” asked Jen, Cyndi’s friend.

            “Yeah, you know,” Cyndi began to explain, “the story of how a hero got their powers is called their ‘origin.’”

            “Riiiiight,” Jen agreed in a way that made it sound like she knew all along.

            “You don’t think The Spektrum is like Superman?” posed Sarah, Cyndi’s other friend.  “Where he’s an alien who has lived on Earth all his life?”

            “But that would suggest he doesn’t yet know he’s an alien, and Superman knew the truth about his past before he started saving people,” countered Caitlin.

            “Well, maybe he does know?” Sarah proposed, trying to see if her theory would still work.

            “No, The Spektrum is human,” Steven affirmed for the group.

            Steven had only just arrived, so his words had surprised the group of girl comic book fans.

            “Oh, Steven, glad you’re here,” Cyndi greeted. “We’re theorizing The Spektrum’s ‘origin.’”

            “What makes you think The Spektrum is human?” questions Caitlin as she played with her cafeteria brand French fries. 

            “Well, just the way his powers are set up,” Steven began. “Superman has access to all his powers at once, but from what is obvious of The Spektrum, he can’t.”

            “What’s obvious?”

            “The Spektrum has different colored forms for a reason: he has to use his powers separately, and the colors are a system to help designate what power or powers he’s using.”

            “So his powers are color coded?”

            “Exactly.” 

Now maybe they’ll call them Codes like I do, Steven thought to himself.

            “So Silver Spektrum,” Cyndi started, “can be nicknamed…”

            “Spektrum Code Silver,” Steven finished.

            Something in Steven’s voice had made Cyndi blush again, and she had to look away to keep from burning up.

            Why? Cyndi panicked. What is it that makes me blush? Is it because he reminds me of The Spektrum?

            Cyndi looked up towards Steven again. He had busied himself with opening his bag of potato chips. She wasn’t sure why, but she felt there was something similar between the two. Maybe it was their voices. Perhaps that certain gleam in Steven’s eye that had flashed when anyone said The Spektrum’s name? Whatever it was, the fact it made her blush at all was oddly both annoying yet intriguing.

            “Iron Bull Rush!!” roared a gruff, bellowing voice from outside.

It was an impressively powerful and incredibly loud voice for it to have been heard above the din that echoed throughout the quad, not to mention inside the halls, both first and second floors, and maybe even the Science Wing’s third floor.  As all heads turned and swiveled to look for the voice’s source, something crashed through the outer doors that lead to the cafeteria lobby, the same place that Silver and Zorb’s goons first met. That same something then smashed a hole into the corner of wall between the lobby and the adjacent hall. Whatever it was kept charging all the way into a picnic table, splintering the wooden benches and twisting the steel support frame. 

            The rampaging thing rose from the wreckage to reveal a large, broad, tank-like humanoid wearing what resembled sports gear. Strolling along side-by-side through the destructive path left by the massive, living wrecking ball was none other than the leader of the dangerous degenerates, Zorb and his slender second, Zita. 

            “Good work, my friend!” Zorb commented as he and Zita applauded his display of devastating power.

            By this time, Steven had made it to the short bridge that connected the Science Wing’s second floor to the second floor of the Main Building’s first hall; he had left Room 243 the moment he heard the battle cry. No one outside noticed his movements because they were watching the trio of alien invaders, so he made it down the stairs and slipped into the first floor boy’s restroom without anyone bothering him.

            “Alright, Computer, load him up.”

            “Specify: which Code are you designating?”

     “Code Black! Load Code Black, Activate Code Black, ‘whatever-the-hell-it-is’ Code Black!” 

For some reason, Steven was easily frustrated by Computer’s ignorance. Wasn’t it the first one who knew what was new about Steven’s powers?

     “Understood. Now activating: Code Black.”

            Black light scanned over Steven and reflected off the restroom mirrors, reflecting it all over the walls. When the black light faded away, it was Steven had guessed: black skinny jeans, finger gloves, elbow pads, and a black tank top. Additionally, his sneakers had become boots, tucked under the legs of his jeans. His hair was indeed dark black, and his eyes…

            My eyes are different colors.

            His left eye was the same dark brown as before, maybe darker, the same change his hair went through. But his right was most certainly different. It was red. And not that kind of “red eye” that people get from crying, allergies, or exhaustion. The iris was the red he gave the character in the game. He wondered why he ended up with two different eyes, but only for a moment because he figured it didn’t matter. The Spektrum Code Black had to make his debut and stop Zorb’s big behemoth henchman.

            The sound of the restroom door shutting caught his attention. Had someone come in, saw him, then left? Hopefully they saw him post-transformation. Again, this was not the time to worry about anything other than defeating Zorb’s newest addition to his team of thugs.

            Spektrum Code Black walked out of the restroom and into the hall. He could see the students moving from one side of the hall to the other. All those students were crowding in the rooms overlooking the quad, where Code Black assumed Zorb and his two assistants still were. A few stragglers had noticed him as he exited the restroom.

            “Dude!” one of them had shouted. “Don’t go outside! Zorb and that juggernaut are still out there!”

            Code Black let out a snuffed chuckle and cracked a smirk of strange amusement as he turned to leave.

            “Not for long.”

            Code Black reached the door and pushed it open as he heard one of the students say, “Heh. Good line.”

Code Black exited the hall to hear the same gruff voice bellow from the other side of the quad.

            “Hey, Spektrum! It’s Game Time! Show yourself, meat!”

            Code Black made his way into the open, confident he’ll stand out among the crowd of frightened students and faculty. In places here and there, students marveled at this Fifth Spektrum, how once again his costume was strikingly different, how even Code Black’s presence felt remarkably different from the others’.  

            Zorb, Zita, and even the blow-hard behemoth took notice of the shift in attention.  The big, broad brute snorted like a bull, and even scraped at the ground with his foot.

            “Relax, we haven’t even properly introduced you two yet,” Zita said to calm the bullish demolisher. “Spektrum, Zorb and I would like you to meet a former intergalactic athlete, and former superstar of the popular sport ‘Brutality Ball,’ The Iron Bull, The Organic Machine, The One-Being Wrecking Team, Pu-ao Pu-ground!”

            “Or you can call me what it means in your silly human dialect: Pulverize!”

            With each moniker and nickname Zita had listed, Pu-ao, aka “Pulverize”, had flexed and posed, all the while an arrogant grin stretched across his big head.  Now that he was closer, Code Black thought that Pu-ao’s skin looked a bit like leather, and the shape of his head was almost perfectly round, like a big copper colored basketball minus the grooves and bumps, although part of that may be due to the weird helmet he was wearing. 

            In fact, Code Black’s first assumption was right: Pu-ao had on an oblong helmet, shiny and bronze in color, but no face guard. He was wearing what appeared to be metal, football-style shoulder pads, and his boots had laces going all the way up the shin. Both items had a well-used look to them. He had gloves and elbow pads, which were just more big bulky pieces of leather.

            Everything about Pu-ao gave the idea of him being worn yet tough, flexible yet solid, and mobile yet unyielding. He was indeed the living incarnation of what it was to be leather. Whereas others may have been intimidated by this daunting fort of muscle, who had proven himself more powerful in strength alone than the other four of Zorb’s men combined, but Code Black felt not even so much as a quiver in his resolve. In fact, he was pleased that he’d have an opponent who was a definite challenge.

            Just as a smirk of indulgent arrogance had come across Pu-ao’s basketball shaped head, Code Black could feel a smile come across his own human face. The smile was powered by an unfamiliar feeling. It was strange, but Steven still found a way to classify it. It was an odd hybrid: one part anger and rage, and yet one part excitement and joy. Code Black had to hold a hand over his left eye, as if was going to come bursting out. As the huddled masses murmured in anticipation of another beat-down, drag-out fist fight, the “furious enthusiasm” welled up and pushed out amused, yet still very dark, laughter, his right eye, iris as red as fire and blood, looking at Pu-ao with a purpose.