by Bryan Cohen
"You over there," The healer pointed to Tank, "I need your help with this part."
Tank crossed his arms.
"Tank!" Stucky grabbed his brother’s shoulder. "Do what he says or Nigel's gonna die."
Tank flared his nostrils and handed the gun to Stucky. "He tries anything, you shoot him in the head."
Stucky nodded, wondering if he could comply if push came to shove.
Tank walked over cautiously and the man produced a dagger. The weapon was green and gold. It was the sort of thing you'd find in a museum, not in a doctor's medical bag. Stucky felt his hands shake on the gun.
Tank held out his hand. "What do you want me to do with it?"
"Hold it above your friend's chest."
Tank rolled his eyes and did as the man requested. "Voodoo nonsense."
The man guided Tank's hands until the blade pointed directly at Nigel's chest. He chanted a new set of strange words. Stucky noticed the symbol on Nigel's arm glow brighter with every word the faceless man said. When he stopped, the man gripped Tank's hands gently before thrusting the dagger into Nigel's heart.
Yarrick and Carter drew their guns and pointed them at the faceless man. Nigel went lifeless and Tank swung at the man who'd made him stab his own friend. The faceless man easily avoided the blow.
"You said you could save him," Tank drew a long knife and circled his opponent. "Who the hell are you?"
"I'm a healer." There was no emotion in his voice. "Just like I told your brother."
"You're a murderer."
Stucky’s heart pounded against his chest as he watched Nigel breathe his final breath. Here he was trying to save his friend, but he may have doomed him that much more quickly. He focused the weapon on the faceless man.
"I needed your hand on the blade. He had to die from a human hand to come back."
Tank’s voice echoed throughout the warehouse. "What do you mean, come back?"
Almost as if on cue, a burst of energy shot in through the window and struck Nigel's body. The light was so bright that everybody had to turn away to avoid going blind. When the energy pulse was gone, so was the faceless man. In his place was a long broadsword that had a similar look to the dagger.
"Damn." Tank kicked the hilt of the sword.
Yarrick shrugged. "At least we got light show, yes?"
Nigel sat up. The blade remained in his chest until he yanked it out and the flesh closed in around the wound. It healed completely within seconds.
Stucky looked at the new Nigel, wondering if there was something he could have done to keep his friend alive. The underling passed by Tank at the front of the diner and exited.
It took his eyes a second to adjust to the bright midday sun. For all the carnage going on inside, it was peaceful in the parking lot. Stucky reached out to touch the greenery as he walked around back, thinking that Nigel couldn't have tossed the kid out of a better window. It was out of view of the road, and the nearest house on that side was over a block away. There was only one problem that sent Stucky’s pulse racing: Ted was gone.
6
Ted fully expected to smash face-first into the unforgiving pavement. Only that didn't happen. When he opened his eyes, he realized the truth. He was hovering horizontally about two inches above the ground. Ted was staring right into the blacktop.
"I can fly!" He turned his head, scraping the tip of his nose against the ground in the process. "Very low to the ground."
Before he could think about Sandra's impending danger, the red marks on his neck, or Nigel's immunity to his newfound powers, he heard the familiar creak of the front door opening. He instinctively pushed himself off the ground and sprung upward. Ted’s heart skipped a beat as he watched himself retreat from the blacktop.
The wind blew through his hair. "I’m really doing it!"
He was exhilarated, until he slammed his back into a support pole underneath the diner’s awning. Pain radiated down his spine, and instinct alone allowed him to grab another piece of metal and plant his feet on the side of the building. Somehow, Ted was suspended about fifteen feet above the ground.
He shut his eyes and let out a low moan. "With great power, comes great pain."
One of the thugs walked around the side of the building and gawked at the lack of Ted’s body amidst the glass and debris. The man kicked at the glass and turned his head at something in the nearby bushes. As he crept toward the noise, Ted saw a nice landing spot and took a deep breath.
"Nice and easy this time."
He let go, only to fly backwards again. His head smacked against the building before he finally began to descend. It took all of his focus to ignore the forming bruise on his scalp and right himself so his feet could touch down first. Ted was grateful he hadn’t ended up a glob on the blacktop the second time around.
A hissing cat leapt out of the bushes behind Page’s, causing the thug to hop back before the animal scampered off. Ted crept up behind him, the nerves once again finding their familiar spot at the pit of his stomach.
"Damn animal. Scared me half to death."
Ted tapped him on the shoulder, which turned the thug right around. "You ready for the other half?"
The man swung at him, which Ted narrowly avoided. Another punch led to another inexplicable dodge. The last time Ted had been in a fight, bully Jason Torello hadn’t missed a punch. Now, these new powers gave the teen a fighting chance.
Another missed punch led the thug to huff loudly. "Why won’t you stand still?"
Ted smirked and readied his hands. "Because I was waiting for my tur--"
As he pushed his hands forward, Ted slipped on a chunk of glass and felt his feet fly out from under him. When his head whipped backwards, all he heard was a loud scream before his powers stopped his body just shy of the glass-covered pavement.
Ted got up to one knee. "Very graceful. Perfect 10 from the Canadian judge." He looked to his left and right but no longer saw his adversary. "Where did he go? Did I… vaporize him?"
Just then, he heard another scream. Ted spotted the man high in the air about 50 feet away, as he flew across the street and into a near-vacant lot. He watched as the man landed with a sickening crunch through the windshield of the only car in the lot.
Ted cringed. "I hope he has insurance."
In the excitement, he nearly blanked on the commotion inside the restaurant. He heard a much more familiar scream from his favorite waitress.
"Sandra."
Ted sprinted to the restaurant window and took in the dire scene before ducking out of view. The Russian was chanting and appeared poised to choke the life out of Sandra. Standing in the middle of it all was the one man who could put a stop to Ted’s powers.
I need help.
Ted brought up an image of his phone inside the sack of stolen electronics. Without even realizing it, he'd swiped the phone's touch screen with his powers and entered his password. It was as if his brain was doing the touching for him.
"Talk about hands-free operating."
Ted dialed 9-1-1 and let the call to go through. In a few minutes, there'd at least be a deputy on the scene.
"Let’s bring the whole cavalry."
He could see the rest of the phones in the bag through his mind's eye. In an instant, he'd unlocked five phones that didn't have password protection and dialed the emergency number.
"That should get their attention."
Any pride Ted felt evaporated with a shriek from Sandra inside Page’s. He stood and saw the Russian lock his arm around her throat.
"No!"
He focused his powers on every object in the entire diner at once. Plates, menus, bar stools and utensils floated up into the air. He heard several screams from the patrons inside.
Ted strained to keep control of the hovering objects. "Cleanup, table everywhere!"
All of a sudden, the objects swirled like a tornado. Dishes slammed into the wall, forks and knifes jabbed into the Russian and a metal napkin holder cracked Nigel in the side of his he
ad. Glass broke, patrons ducked their heads, and the diner filled with havoc. Ted continued to spin whatever he could think of as he watched Sandra crawl into the kitchen. As the swinging door closed behind her, a smile spread across his face.
"Hell yeah!"
That’s when the Brit stepped forward and lifted his hands skyward. "Enough!"
His exclamation blew out all the windows at once, sending shattered glass and plastic blinds onto the pavement. All the hovering objects burst out of the diner and headed straight for Ted. He ducked to avoid a knife and multiple plates. Books, half-eaten brunches, and coffee creamers landed on the ground outside. As Ted stood, his eyes locked with the ringleader’s.
The Brit kicked aside a tipped-over bar stool and walked toward the window. "It's over, living soul."
Ted couldn’t move a muscle as fear took hold. He saw the murderous look in the thug’s eyes and thought about Natalie. The Brit was just a few steps away, when he heard something shouted through the front of the restaurant.
"Freeze! Put your hands up!"
All eyes turned toward the sound. A sheriff’s deputy and several other officers had their weapons drawn. With the windows all blown out, the thugs could no longer hide their intentions.
The Russian pulled a fork out of his midsection and put his hands up. The others gave up as well.
Ted breathed a sigh of relief. "It's over."
"Over?" The Brit smiled. "The fun's only just beginning. I’ll see you soon, Ted."
Ted hated the smug look on the Brit’s face as he accepted the handcuffs, but he knew the ringleader was right. Nothing was over yet.
The thugs were in custody and an EMT looked over Ted’s glass-sliced arms when the first news van arrived. A reporter with a fake grin pushed his microphone right into Ted's face.
"Ted Finley, the people in there are saying that you're some kind of hero. On par with Superman. Super powers and everything. What do you have to say to that?"
Every comic book Ted ever read gave the hero a secret identity. That secrecy kept the person's loved ones and personal life safe. Had Ted already lost that opportunity?
"I'm just glad everybody's alright."
The reporter was unfazed. "From what the hostages are saying, everybody's alright because of you. Are you planning to solve more crimes using your superpowers?"
Ted felt his cheeks warm. "I…"
He had no idea what came next, and he knew the whole world would be watching.
"No comment." He stood up and started walking away. "Thank you."
Over a dozen more reporters swarmed him in the next several minutes until he felt a tap on his shoulder. Bruised, but undeterred, Sandra dangled her car keys from the fingers of her tattooed hand. "Here's a question you really want to hear. Do you want a lift home?"
Ted nodded vigorously. "Please."
They dashed across the lot and pulled away before the reporters could box them in. They shook their heads and stayed silent for several minutes.
Sandra finally turned toward him. "You saved my life, Ted."
His neck turned hot. "You were the brave one first."
Sandra scoffed. "I was an idiot. The things you did were out of this world."
The previous day, Ted spent five hours playing video games. In the last hour, he’d lost his girlfriend, inherited superpowers, and taken down a gang of madmen.
Anxiety tightened his neck and shoulders. "I don't know where it came from, and I'm not sure what it all means. I still feel like a regular nerd. What am I supposed to do now?"
Sandra patted Ted on the shoulder. "I've known you since you were a little squirt and you've always been a good kid. Keep being yourself. Help people when they need it. You'll probably be fine."
He tried to breathe out the stress. "Thanks, Sandra."
The car pulled into Ted's driveway, which was likewise mobbed by local reporters and several national news vans. Sandra undid her belt and kissed Ted on the cheek. His face went from slightly pink to bright red.
"That's for saving my life."
Ted gave Sandra a one-arm hug. "Wish me luck."
She smirked. "Good luck. Your teenage years are awkward enough without a million cameras watching your every move."
Ted rolled his eyes. "Just the panic-attack-inducing information I wanted. Thanks a lot."
Sandra pulled back and smiled. "Don't mention it. Now go greet your adoring fans."
Ted hesitated a moment before opening the door.
Here goes nothing.
The sea of microphones approached like a tidal wave as he shut the door behind him.
7
Erica LaPlante walked the strangely familiar path to her former inhabitant’s front door before ringing the bell. She didn’t enjoy these fake reunions with loved ones, but she knew it was best to get them over with as soon as possible. Her former beauty queen "mother" was the first to answer the door. Erica’s mom immediately started bawling and called for her husband. She squeezed Erica as tight as she could, as if to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating.
I’m real, but I’m not who you want me to be.
When her mother pulled away and her father arrived, Erica did what she’d done dozens of times before. She faked the hell out of a crying fit.
"Mom, I was so scared. It was terrible!"
Her mother pulled her close again. "Where were you, honey? We thought awful, horrible things."
Erica scrunched up her face as tight as it would go. "I can’t. It was too much."
Her father huffed. "If somebody hurt you, my firm will put them away for six lifetime sentences."
She let her tears and face get even uglier. "I just want to see my room. Can I please see my room?"
Erica’s mother put her hand on Mr. LaPlante’s chest. "Of course, we’ll let you rest first." She kissed Erica’s forehead. "I’m just so glad you’re alive and well."
Alive isn’t exactly the right word.
After a few more compulsory hugs and kisses, Erica finally had a room to herself. She breathed deeply until the tears she’d conjured subsided and headed straight for to her computer. As it turned on, she glanced up at the mirror above her dresser.
The blond hair and blue eyes that stared back were unfamiliar. "Definitely a 10. That should make the mission much easier."
When her computer was ready, she typed the words "living soul" into Google. Nothing of note came up.
She chuckled. "Always worth a shot. Now let’s see if you’ve been busy."
It only took a few keywords before a news story from the last hour came up. A wrecked diner, an attempted murder, and a display of telekinetic powers made everything pretty obvious.
Erica grinned to herself. "This was much tougher before the internet."
Within the first paragraph of the story, she knew the identity of the boy she had to find. The name Ted Finley rung more than a few bells.
"You were neighbors. Playmates. Friends."
Erica could see the memories play out as if they were her own. Rendezvous in tree houses. Role-playing in the backyard. Endless laughing and childhood joy.
"A happy adolescence. Must’ve been nice."
Though a hot shower called to her, instinct told Erica to turn on the TV first. A newscaster outside a greasy spoon diner came into focus on the screen.
"We’re live here at YNN, and we have just come upon a video of Ted Finley during his daring rescue today in Treasure. This footage has gone absolutely viral with millions of views in less than an hour."
Erica didn’t like the idea that everyone in the world would be able to see what the living soul could do, but she learned long ago that no mission ever went as planned.
"This is from the security feed at Page's Diner. The person on the left is Ted Finley. Now watch this."
Erica did. She saw a man come charging at the boy and go flying back in the opposite direction. He flew out of the security frame, and the TV switched to another feed instantly to show the man crash into a jukebox. She took in t
he way Ted moved and how he fought. Erica studied the tape five times over, but the angle never gave her a clear shot of his face. She went back to the computer and brought up social media to examine Ted’s profile picture.
An audible gasp escaped her mouth. "It’s you. But that can’t be."
Erica’s hand twitched as she brought up the video once again. It wasn’t just the face. Ted moved and looked exactly like someone she knew long ago. Someone she loved. Someone she’d had to kill.
She pulled up Ted’s profile picture one more time and stared. When she caught herself remembering held hands and stolen kisses from hundreds of years prior, she slammed the computer shut.
"They didn’t tell me you looked like him." Erica’s nostrils flared. "Of course they didn’t tell me."
She looked back at the TV screen, now littered with a half-dozen pundits asking if they should praise the new hero or be afraid of him.
Erica took in a deep breath. "What side are you on, Ted Finley? And if you aren’t on mine, how exactly am I going to kill you?"
8
All the money Dhiraj had put into professional driving school came to good use as he maneuvered his way around the many news vans parked in Ted's driveway. After fitting his compact in the space between the dying tree and where the pool used to be, he threw it into park and took in the surroundings. Dhiraj counted 15 different stations covering Ted's house. Among them, there were three foreign language channels, a college station from 50 miles away, and two national news carriers.
He shook his head. "I should have been the first person he called."
After hours of attempting to figure out where Ted was and why Page's was closed, his newsfeed went crazy with outlandish headlines like "Teenage Superhero Saves Day," "Robbery Thwarted by Local Teen" and "The Next Evolution in Heroism." There was backlash, too, as not everybody was ready to accept the truth. One cable news channel had an hour-long discussion about whether or not Ted was the devil. Two guests said he probably was, while the other remained neutral. Dhiraj wished he could have gotten out ahead of the story.
With a crowd of reporters and neighbors gathered around Ted's front door, he snuck around back through the loose basement window. The Finleys never threw anything away, which made navigating their bottom level a challenge. One wrong step, and he might crush anything ranging from a plastic wrestling action figure to a crystal serving dish from the Finleys' wedding. But he'd traveled the path enough times in the dark that he could probably do it blindfolded.
