Will hid for a while at Meissner’s house. Servants came to work at the residence. He turned them all away. They would have been suspicious, yet they knew better than to report anything to the police.
He left the office, where Meissner and his men had fallen. Not that he found their deaths depressing; only that they littered the room. Downstairs he sat on the lounge to watch TV. With an armload of different snacks, he attempted to eat as he viewed. Food lacked taste and did it do anything to stave his hunger. Now that he thought about it, hunger was no longer an issue. It seemed he ate out of habit, like one did at the movies. Spitting out a piece of popcorn, he changed channels. Nothing piqued his interest no matter how many channels he tried.
Switching off the TV, he realised nothing interested him. Planning his next move played on his mind. When he came to the house he wanted only enough money to make a new start in another country. Meissner had left him with nothing. Before the crime lord died, Wil vowed that he’d take more than what Meissner owned.
Banks? Possibly; to begin with.
It didn’t ring true with his aspirations.
Bigger! What about… the world?
Although gifted, he was still one man. A man of his powers might rule a country; even a continent, but he would need help if he wanted to rule the world. Earth consisted of six continents, not including Antarctica. He’d need five more; people who thought nothing of taking what they wanted and didn’t care how they did so. That meant criminals of course, and the world had no shortage of them. Could he perhaps find suitable candidates and enhance them as well? How could he do that though if he didn’t know what happened to himself?
His thoughts returned to the night of the police raid and his final memory; a bullet passing through at least three different chemical compounds of his making. Surely that had made him the being which now lingered between life and death. Could he remember the compounds?
Each one was an experimentation to create a new designer drug. Even if he did create other beings like himself, he ran a risk. Wil worked as a chemist. If he enhanced hardened criminals, they would be stronger and more malicious than him. No doubt they would turn on him in the bid to take everything. He needed others of equal abilities that he could control.
Are there others?
The phone on the wall rang a few times, then switched to a recorded message. It annoyed him that the voice droned on with its mundane message, interfering with his thoughts.
He had heard voices at night, orbiting just out of his reach. Who were they? They never actually called to him, but he had always wondered if they were linked with his destiny. Someone had chosen him to have extraordinary power. Could this person have chosen these others? Was he meant to meet them?
Yes! His thoughts shouted as he rose from the lounge.
He walked to the front door to claim Meisnner’s car… and his destiny.