CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Christopher stormed out of Michelangelo’s cottage, fists clenched. The rage he’d been taking out on all those pretentious artworks and statues wasn’t even remotely abated. He needed more. More destruction. More chaos. More, more, more.
The frustration of Oliver always being one step ahead was too much for Chris. His military training from Colonel Cain had not prepared him for the constant setbacks. He was furious and his anger seemed to be only growing. With his anger, he could feel his powers of dark matter swelling, too, bursting at the seams.
He turned on the spot as Malcolm, Madeleine, and Natasha ran out of the cottage after him.
“Um… Christopher…” Madeleine stammered. “Are you okay?”
“Do I LOOK okay?” Christopher bellowed. His voice sounded strange. Deeper. More
