Experiment X-Ray

By Rainer J. Ranis

It’s king’s day in Rufan Land, and everyone is celebrating—everyone except the king’s most trusted and powerful guards, Ray Hari and Troy Chasswood. Instead, Ray barges in on Troy’s day off to tell him his entire life story, revealing that he was hiding his true powers for years, that he saved himself from a deadly disease by cloning himself, and that he actually joined the ranks to find his father. After years of looking, the clones and Ray finally know where their father is.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Feb 27, 2019
• ISBN: 9781728385242

Rainer J. Ranis

Rainer Ranis was born on May 30th 1994, on the island of Curacao. He followed his family to the island of St. Maarten, where he spent his life until college. Though being asthmatic, long-distance running was his greatest passion. People often wonder what runners think of when running those long distances. When he wasn’t focusing on the gold at the end of the race, he typically fantasized about hundreds of different scenarios and stories to forget about how tired his body really was. An asthma attack in 2014 put him out of the competitions, which forced an early retirement in his short career. So he thought, Why not bring one of these stories out to the world? After writing the Experiment X series, he had realized that he’d found a new passion next to being a full-time teacher.

Book preview

1

THE GIANT ENTRANCE gate is finally open to the public. Straight ahead, in the distance, is the king’s beautiful castle. People from near and far can finally walk freely over the silver-coloured brick road of the king’s land. Street performers dance and do tricks, while the neatly dressed hosts warmly welcome guests. The giant park after the entrance is where the atmosphere drastically changes from walking on a silver road to walking on freshly cut green grass. The warm, welcome atmosphere changes into a competitive spirit. The crowds gather around. People young and old spar and test their s. skills for honour. The park is surrounded by a vast lake filled with aquatic life. Even there the celebrations continue. Slightly above the lake are twelve separate side streets floating and connecting to each other by narrow golden bridges. Each side street is littered with confetti, balloons, and people. The golden bridges connecting them are jam-packed with people trying to get to another street, and spectators admire the water spectacle on the lake below them.

Performers from all over the land have come to take part in one of the biggest events of the year. Hundreds of thousands of citizens gather and march down these side streets towards the royal plaza, singing, cheering, and celebrating his holiness. Radio speakers and giant screens set up all over played songs and displayed spectacles to keep the crowds hyped up and ready to have fun. It’s the Day of the King—a day dedicated to their beloved sovereign, a symbolic figure who oversees their land. The strongest fighters amongst the citizens are at his aid, granted to the king by Parliament. Those who aren’t celebrating are working. Hundreds of shops are open, streaming various events on their televisions and selling food, themed clothing, accessories, and souvenirs. Hundreds of guards are spread strategically over the plaza to keep the citizens and the king safe. Even if the crowd easily recognizes their intimidating skin-tight black uniforms, guns, and diverse sword types, they still manage to blend in and mingle with the crowd, as they are righteous citizens. As is tradition, there are friendly sparring matches being fought at the designated areas in the park in front of the plaza. Hand-to-hand combat, no weapons, and no s. skills (soul skills) are permitted during the matches. Children and fans from all over the country gather to have the honour of sparring with one of the king’s guards, which is a duty. A citizen may choose to become one of these guards if he or she wins.

Immediately, as the clock strikes one, a particular guard walks in through the gate. The ice-tipped short swords on his hips sparkle brightly with the shine of the midday sun. His dog tags clatter under his uniform as he walks tall and proudly towards the main plaza before the castle. The light blue bandana on his left arm is easily distinguishable.

It’s Ray! a child cries.

I want to fight against Ray. I’m sure I will be able to touch him! a man screams.

Use your fire s. skill, Ray! another shouts.

No, no. Use your ice s. skill, Ray! a man says.

A deafening crowd gathers to see the man they have looked up to for the last couple of years. Thousands of cameras appear in the crowd, snapping pictures and filming the man who represented the country at this year’s international clash and won—the man who, with the help of his partner, brought down the most despicable group of fighters to have entered the international clash. He won the hearts of millions all over the world with his charisma, respect, and sheer strength. Even the guards he works with aspire to be him, one of the king’s most powerful but also most humble guards. Ray! Unable to contain their excitement, the crowd rushes Ray, enveloping him in a sea of fans.

Fight me! a fan screams.

No, wait! I just want an autograph! another replies.

Maybe just a picture for my kids? a guard asks.

The crowd closes in on Ray. With a powerful leap, he jumps from the sea of fans onto the roof a booth. Looking over the crowd, he smiles proudly at his fans.

Listen up! Ray shouts.

The crowd goes from rowdy with excitement to absolute silence. All eyes look up towards the one they call their hero, all ears perked in his direction. Even the performers have stopped performing.

I appreciate all the love and support I receive from all of you. Remember that I am just a man and can neither sign autographs nor battle everyone. For that, I am deeply sorry. But I have a solution! Ray says as he takes out the rubber band that was holding his locks in a ponytail. They fall evenly, covering his face. The eyes of the crowd light up as Ray places his hands on the roof of the booth. A pillar of ice emerges from underneath Ray, propelling him upward. The crowd cheers in amazement. Ray takes out his camera phone.

Why take a picture with me when I can take one with you! he screams from the top of the pillar. Preparing to take a selfie, Ray begins a countdown. Five … four … three … two … one … Cheese! The crowd goes absolutely nuts. The pillar shatters into thousands of tiny hexagon-shaped pieces of ice. Ray drops from the top and lands gracefully on the rooftop.

Vendor! Do not sell these. They are for my fans—no, my friends. Give them out, Ray says as he tosses one of the ice pieces to the vendor. The crowd cheers even more.

Ray, where’s Chasswood? a man screams.

The crowd falls into a sudden hush, listening carefully to their hero’s words.

Troy? It’s his day off. So he is probably chilling in the castle. I’m actually heading that way now. We have some important things to discuss. Those who wanted to spar with me, catch me if you can!

Using his strength and agility, Ray jumps from the top of the booth and heads towards the castle. Hundreds of fans from within the crowd chase after Ray, a man they know to rarely be touched by other fighters. The fighters have one goal: make contact with Ray. Whether it’s hit or get hit, just a touch is an honour.

Ray looks back and sees the group of fans gaining on him. He slows down to let them catch up.

Why did you slow down? Don’t take me too lightly, a man screams while throwing a fast and strong kick towards Ray’s head. Ray smiles at the man while easily dodging the kick. Half a second later, another kick is sent towards his torso. Ray places one hand on the ground, dodging the kick. Using the momentum he gained from dodging, he jumps backwards. Ray turns and sprints towards the crowd, dodging kicks and punches from fighter after fighter. Ray notices that even some guards from the castle have found their way into the crowd. He knows that they will not hold back. With a intrigued smile, he turns and tries to flee towards the park. Seeing that he is surrounded and isn’t getting any time to breathe, he places his hand on the head of a young man who tried to punch him. Using the head of the young man, he propels himself onto higher ground and runs towards his goal.

He touched my head! Ray hears coming out of the mouth of the young man.

Ray can’t help but laugh as he continues to make his way towards the castle. The determined fighters jump after Ray and keep chasing him. The fighters that were sparring in the park also turn their attention to Ray. With the main plaza in sight, Ray makes one more statement. The people on the side streets watch the park to see what will happen.

We are going to play a game. If I touch you, you have to sit and may not chase me anymore. If you touch me, we will spar! The castle is right there. Let’s end this chase in a fun manner. The crowd screams in excitement. Let’s go!

Ray takes a deep breath. His pupils widen, and he takes off towards the crowd. One by one he tags the crowd of people who were once chasing him. Using silly tactics but great speed and agility, he tries to tag everyone who is chasing him. The high speed he moves at releases a gust of wind as he swooshes past an elderly woman, blowing off her fancy snow-white hat. Ray notices the hat falling. Crap, that hat can’t get dirty! he thinks. Ray’s facial expression has suddenly changed. With a strong pivot, Ray turns direction, leaving a crater on the grass. He sprints towards the falling hat, tagging those he has not tagged. The hat is about to land. With a final lunge, Ray stretches his arms forward to catch the whitest hat he has ever seen.

Got ’im, a guard yells as he slides feet first towards Ray. Ray sees the guard sliding towards him. He grabs the hat, jumps up and over the guard, does a flip, and lands safely on the other side of the guard. The guard turns, looks at Ray in amazement, and sits down. He had been tagged mid-air on the back of his head. Ray lets out a sigh of relief and puts on the hat. He looks at the stunned crowd, smiles, and sprints forward. He continues the game, tagging every fighter he comes across, even tagging people who had nothing to do with the chase. There’s a group of hundreds sitting on the floor, watching as Ray walks calmly towards the elderly woman.

I’m sorry for blowing off your hat. Hope it didn’t get dirty, Ray says as he returns the hat with a smile.

Not at all, dear. It was quite the show, the woman answers. Ray looks at the sea of eyes staring in amazement at him and laughs.

Thank you for the game! It was fun. The next time we meet, I hope we can still be friends. Happy kings day! Ray shouts as he runs towards the main plaza. The big open plaza is full of people clapping and cheering him on. Even the shopkeepers put Ray before business. Ray greets everyone from afar as he makes his way calmly to the castle doors. The people begin flooding into the plaza from the side streets and the main streets. The music gets louder, and the party continues as before. The four guards standing at the fronts of the castle doors all greet Ray with a strong salute. Their faces all serious, ready to scare off any threats. Ray salutes proudly, he smiles. Wassup fellas? Ray greets unprofessionally. The serious faces can’t help but crack a smile when he’s around. I would’ve gotten you. One of the guards whisper. Ray chuckles and touches the door before him. The guards all laugh and continue to open the heavy doors for Ray. He walks through the doors, and the outside noise diminishes a bit. Ray hears the crowd cheering once more as he closes the door behind him. He can barely make out any words amidst the uproar. The door closes with a hard slam followed by a deafening silence. As he always does, Ray admires the newly renovated castle. The centuries-old walls, paintings, and floors look beautiful with the modern furniture. Ray takes a deep breath, regains his focus, and starts walking towards his destination. He walks over the floor where all the guards meet and heads up the stairs to where the rooms are. Ray walks towards Troy’s room.

Yo, Troy! Open up! he yells, banging on the door. No answer. He bangs again while calling Troy. A clearly tired man in his thirties wearing striped pyjamas opens the door while rubbing his eyes.

You know it’s my day off, right? Troy asks.

That’s exactly why I am here. That’s what best friends do—barge in, wake you up on your day off, and confess their whole life story in a matter of hours, Ray replies.

What? Hours? What are you talking about? Troy asks, yawning.

Well, you remember the international clash a few months ago? Ray asks as he makes his way into the room.

The one we won right before we went to war … No, I don’t recall, Troy says sarcastically.

Well, it opened my eyes to what good friends we are …, Ray begins.

Yeah, sure. I’m not a therapist. You know that, right? Troy interrupts.

Yeah, I know, we’re best friends, but you don’t even know all of my powers or where I come from. Hell, you don’t even know my real name. Ray explains as he drops onto Troy’s black couch. To get himself comfortable, he wiggles his way through Troy’s many pillows. Troy, who is still standing with the door wide open glares. He shuts the door and starts walking towards Ray. Ray isn’t your real name? Well, it’s a stupid name anyway. Who cares? he says in a carefree manner.

Oh, you will care, my friend, Ray replies.

Best friend, Troy mocks.

Yeah, yeah. What if I told you that I’m not the only me? That there are four others that look, talk, and kind of fight like me out there.

You’re kidding, right? I’d say this world is in serious trouble. You’re annoying enough. Troy takes a seat next to Ray. He gets comfortable by putting his legs up on his square glass coffee table. Like soul clones? Or quintuplets? he asks.

I’m completely serious. They aren’t exactly soul clones, but they’re like … Just lie back on your couch and relax, and I’ll explain all from the beginning.

Knowing how you tell stories, this is going to be really long, Troy says, lying back.

Hell yeah, it will be.

Troy takes out a white blanket and throws it over himself. He fluffs his pillows as Ray is doodling something on a piece of paper he found on the coffee table. Ray finishes what he is doing and folds the paper. He shows it to Troy. No more questions! is written on it in Ray’s handwriting. Troy rolls his eyes and shakes his head after seeing the paper. I see you came prepared, he says, grabbing a stuffed animal to hold.

Always. But don’t worry—it’s not all about me. You too play a big part in the story, Ray says.

Oh! I’m a main character? Please go on. Everything just got way more interesting, Troy snarks. They have a hearty laugh.

The story begins.

2

OK, SO LET’S start at the beginning. I was born about twenty years ago. You know that one soul mutation that causes a mass overload of soul essence—s. essence—and death?

No, Troy says.

Well, yeah, I had that, Ray continues.

Troy sits up to get closer to Ray and raises his voice. What? I said no, I don’t know of it!

Ray sighs. How do you not know of this? Years ago there was, like, this epidemic. Babies were being born with a mutation in their genes. Those affected would produce s. essence at a much faster rate than normal. Eventually, those affected would not be able to contain all the s. essence that they have gathered. It would reach the maximum of what the body can handle, and they would die as a result.

So it’s like a growth or something? Is that why your ears are so big? Troy asks.

No … and my ears are not big—they’re normal sized. And no, it’s not a growth. How can I explain this? Oh! When charging your phone! It reaches one hundred per cent and then stops charging, right? So the battery won’t explode. That’s what a normal body does too. But those who are affected by this mutation will not stop ‘charging’. Eventually, the battery—or body, in this case—can’t handle all the energy and eventually gives out.

So your brain lacks the capacity to perceive that you have reached your limit of s. essence accumulation, Troy says in a mocking manner.

Yes, Ray says cautiously.

So you’re stupid, Troy snarls.

Ray tries to keep his composure. No, I’m n—never mind.

My mom and dad really loved each other. Dad’s complexion was like mine, and he was my height. And Mom had brown curly hair and big eyes. Way taller than my dad. Honestly, I don’t know how my dad got my mom, but whatever. It was expected that I would not live past the age of four. My parents were freaked. Nevertheless, they kept me. They loved and raised me as best as they could, knowing that my chances for survival were getting slimmer by the day. It wasn’t so bad at first. They told me that I had random power surges, but unlike other babies, I would damage things and eventually knock myself out. Dad, being a scientist, tried everything to keep me under control. Two years later, much like the other kids my age, I learned my s. skill. Fire!

Oh, so your original s. skill is fire. How did you get ice, then, and why am I only now learning of this? Troy asks.

Bruh, can you not read? Ray replies as he dangles his no-more-questions sign in Troy’s face. Anyway, so my original s. skill is fire. Now imagine how much damage a regular child does—all that tearing through clothes, damaging walls, electronics exploding. Yeah, that times ten. Things spontaneously started combusting when coming in contact with me in my household. The insurance company hated us. My dad used ice s. skill and my mom used wind. My dad would constantly try to keep a shield around the objects around the house, but eventually I’d break through the shield and he would have to put a new one. It costs way too much essence to constantly keep the ice cold and solid. The raw power inside of me was constantly growing and ready to come out. I was getting stronger by the day. To minimize all the damage, my dad just decided to stop buying luxurious stuff.

"We ended up living in a little house made of concrete away from