Marrow

by Preston Norton

  “Flex, could I trouble you to call the police for me?” he asked. “Before I kill this man?”

  ***

  As soon as the police arrived, the perimeter of unconscious cops surrounding Oracle’s house began to wake up, along with the hundred or so news crew members scattered everywhere, inside and out. The way people were moaning and crawling off the ground, it felt like Night of the Living Dead. Everyone was coming back to life.

  Everyone except for Oracle and Spine. Both of them were still unconscious, and Fantom was seeing personally to their incarceration. It was weird seeing Fantom interact with the police. Every order he gave, they did. Even the higher ranking officers didn’t object to his unauthorized control of the crime scene. Then again, Fantom had single-handedly captured the most notorious Supervillain of all time and the most powerful Telepath in the world gone rogue. If the police resented him for it, they didn’t show it. I sensed nothing but respect.

  Oracle’s head was padlocked inside a strange metal helmet adorned with several meters and gauges—a mind cuff. They weren’t used very often, but in the rare instance that Telekinetics and Telepaths went bad, it was the only way to keep them under control. The mind cuff absorbed any sort of psychic energy emitted inside.

  Oracle and Spine were towed away in separate armed vehicles guarded by nearly half a dozen officers each.

  When police started questioning the waking police officers and news crews, they were oblivious to anything that had happened. The time was a mere blackout in their memory. Even Sapphire and Whisp had no idea what had happened since the hospital elevator.

  Everyone wasn't so oblivious to the beating Flex and I had given them.

  Ambulances started arriving several at a time, paramedics towing people off the crime scene in stretchers. Flex and I both sat on the tailgate of one ambulance, wrapped in red cotton blankets that had been placed over our shoulders. When officers started interrogating us, Flex did the talking. I attempted to fill in the blanks, but when the conversation drifted to Spine, my voice fell dead in my throat. I’d never felt so numb—so lifeless—in my entire life.

  That single tear.

  I’ve always loved you.

  One particular officer, Jenkins, didn’t like my speechlessness. He started pressing me specifically for details.

  “So did your old man tell you anything, kid? Let you in on his plans?”

  “Marrow hasn’t talked to his dad in years,” Flex cut in. “He—”

  “Hey, Jack Sparrow, I wasn’t talking to you,” Jenkins snapped. His eyes narrowed on me. “Well, kid? You keeping any secrets with your pops?”

  “Relax, officer,” a familiar voice intervened. Fantom approached from the crowds, entering our small circle. “Marrow isn’t an accessory to a crime. He’s a hero. Cut the kid a break.”

  Jenkin’s scowled and licked his teeth behind his lips. “Yeah, whatever,” he grumbled and skulked off.

  Instead of looking Fantom in the face, I found myself staring at his hands. The same hands that had beat my father in the face. Over and over again.

  His knuckles didn’t even have a scratch.

  “You doing okay, Marrow?” Fantom asked.

  I nodded. My head felt like it weighed a million pounds.

  Fantom glanced at Flex, unconvinced. Flex simply shrugged.

  I could feel Fantom’s penetrating gaze return to me. I clearly wasn’t star-struck anymore; I wanted to tell him to bug off and save the day somewhere else.

  “Flex, could you give us a moment?” he asked.

  Flex bit his lip, peering into my lowered gaze. He nodded hesitantly. “Yeah, okay.”

  Hoisting himself off the tailgate, he wandered into the chaos of blue and red flashing lights.

  Fantom stared down on me for a long moment. I continued to stare holes into the ground. Finally he slouched down on the tailgate beside me.

  “Sorry for beating your dad up,” he said.

  Not quite the comment I was expecting. Well, maybe it was, but I think I’d imagined it just a little more eloquently.

  “What’s there to be sorry about?” I asked. “He’s a Supervillain. That’s what you do. You beat up Supervillains.”

  “Yeah, but he’s still your dad,” said Fantom. “Supervillain or not. I know that wasn’t an easy thing for you to see.”

  “It’s whatever,” I said, shrugging. “I don’t care.”

  It only felt like a half lie since I felt so numb to any sort of emotion. I wanted to cry. I felt like I should. But instead, I felt completely detached. Disconnected from my body, from my brain, from reality—everything. Part of me wished Oracle had just killed me. Then I wouldn’t be replaying that teary-eyed image of my father on an endless loop.

  “You should care,” said Fantom.

  “Why?”

  “Because that just means you’re human.”

  I snorted. “Well being human sucks.”

  Fantom leaned back and chuckled. “Yeah, I guess it does. But then again, I suppose we’re not your average human beings, now are we?”

  I didn’t respond. At the moment, I would kill to be normal. My power was just a painful reminder that I was my father’s son.

  Remember what I said before? That having super powers isn’t always as super as it sounds?

  Yeah. True story.

  “What do you suppose it is that truly makes a hero?” Fantom asked.

  I rolled my eyes. Fantom or not, I really wasn’t in the mood for this conversation. FIST had shoved enough bull crap hero pep talks down my throat to last a lifetime and a half. My gag reflex couldn’t take another one.

  “Hey, hear me out,” he said. “Is it about how many people you save? Is it about how many criminals you put behind bars or how many Supervillains you defeat? Seriously. Do you know what it is?”

  “No, but I have a feeling you’re going to tell me,” I said.

  “Dang straight I am,” said Fantom. “In the end, being a hero isn’t just about doing heroic things. It’s about being a symbol. It’s about what you stand for. And sometimes being a symbol means making the toughest decisions. Every society needs a symbol. It’s been that way since the beginning of time. Every great civilization has had its gods and its heroes. Marrow, we are those heroes. When times are hard and evil is rampant, we are the symbols that people can look up to. We can inspire good in mankind. That is what being a hero really is.”

  Fantom leaned towards me, demanding eye contact.

  “So tell me, Marrow…what do you stand for?”

  “I don’t stand for anything,” I muttered.

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “I don’t care what you believe.”

  “Ah, I see,” said Fantom. “Is that why you stopped your father before he could hurt Flex?”

  I had no response for that.

  “You sure have a way of not standing for anything,” he said.

  “It was nothing,” I said.

  “It didn’t look like nothing. Aside from me, you’re the only person I’ve ever seen throw Spine down like that.”

  I raised an eyebrow in confusion. I’d been here the entire time Flex had recounted our story, and he was deliberately vague on the details of how I had intervened between him and Spine.

  “How…? How did you know…?” I asked.

  Fantom shrugged with a knowing smile. “Well, this entire thing did go down in a room full of cameras.”

  “You mean the cameras were still recording?” I asked in disbelief.

  “Well, it’s hardly Academy Award material,” said Fantom. “Just a bunch of fragmented shots. But, with some careful video editing, I have a feeling we’re all going to be internet sensations by morning.”

  I blinked as his words slowly sank in. I had barely recovered from my last moment of fame. The thought of experiencing that again was exhausting. At least Flex and I had Fantom to share the glory with this time. I was sure he’d absorb the majority of it like a sponge.

  “You don’t look
so excited,” said Fantom.

  I didn’t feel so excited.

  “Does Flex know about this?” I asked.

  Fantom turned his head, and I followed his gaze. Remarkably, I spotted Flex in an instant. He was immersed in a small crowd that had gathered around the back of the Channel 13 news van. The bright glare of a television screen held them all captivated.

  “I think he does now,” said Fantom.

  I didn’t respond. My gaze remained fixed on Flex’s face. His eyes were big and then his mouth opened wide. Almost simultaneously, the crowd erupted into wild cheers and clapping. Several people patted Flex on the back. He let loose a wide smile.

  I’d never seen him so happy.

  “You two make a good team,” said Fantom.

  Slowly, I nodded. “Yeah. I guess we do.”

  Fantom was silent for a moment. “Marrow, I want to make you an offer.”

  Oh, great. This again. I rolled my eyes.

  “I’m really not in the mood for another photo shoot or anything,” I said.

  Fantom chuckled. “That’s not exactly what I had in mind.”

  “Oh. Well, please do elaborate,” I said with a notable lack of enthusiasm.

  “It’s really quite simple,” said Fantom. “I was hoping you would be my new sidekick.”

  CHAPTER 29

  Verbal shellshock—that’s what my brain was experiencing at the moment. Fantom’s offer came like a flash grenade. I didn’t know what to think. I couldn’t think. And breathing had suddenly become as confusing as rocket science.

  Everything I had ever wanted was suddenly being handed to me—right here, right now.

  So why wasn’t I excited?

  Fantom’s grin began to slip slightly as he waited for a response. So I responded with the first intelligent thought I could muster.

  “Why?”

  Most people would argue that that wasn’t an intelligent thought at all.

  Fantom leaned back and chuckled. “I admire your modesty, Marrow. We already know that you were the real top scorer in the Final Challenge, not Nero. And you’ve proven your courage twice in one week. You are true hero material. Honestly, there would be no justice in this world if I didn’t take you on as a sidekick. And hey, we both know that I’m all about justice, right?”

  Fantom said this last part with a smirk. I think he was trying to be funny, but I couldn’t even fake a laugh.

  I didn’t feel like a hero at all. My gaze wandered back to Flex. His smile. The happiness was practically radiating from him.

  “What about Flex?” I asked.

  “Well, if you accepted, Flex would no longer be your mentor,” said Fantom.

  My countenance sank. “Oh…”

  My disappointment was mind-boggling. What the heck was I sulking about?

  “You two make a phenomenal team,” said Fantom. “There’s no doubt about it. But…there’s a reason you two mesh so well.”

  I knew why. As much as I loathed it, I knew it all too well.

  “Because Flex and my father were a good team,” I mumbled.

  Fantom nodded solemnly. “And there’s nothing wrong with that, mind you. But, given the circumstances, it might be healthier for you to take a break from Flex. And I mean no disrespect to either of you. However, the more time you two spend together perfecting your teamwork, the more you’ll be reminded of your father. And…well…I’m only trying to look out for your mental well-being.”

  My head was swimming. On one hand I saw a perfect future: Train with Fantom. Become the next big hero. It was an inevitable pathway to success. On the other hand I saw something that I couldn’t quite put into words. Flex and I had made something out of nothing. We weren’t just overnight heroes. I don’t think I realized what Flex was to me until now—a big brother, a father, and a best friend all rolled into one. Was he obnoxious? Yes. Sarcastic? Of course. Rude? Booger-picking pirates had better social etiquette.

  But I wouldn’t have him any other way.

  “And if you’re worried about offending Flex, don’t be,” said Fantom. “He’s a loner. Always has been, always will be. As great a team as you two make, he’ll be happy for you. And he’ll be happy to go his own way.”

  “Yeah…I guess,” I murmured unconvincingly.

  “I’m not asking you to make a decision right away,” said Fantom, noting my hesitation. “Think it over. Sleep on it. I know you’ll make the right decision.”

  People always say that. You know I'll make the right decision? How do you know what I’ll decide? Are you a Telepath or something? How do you even know what the right decision is? How can you say that?

  So, naturally, I said, “I accept. I’ll do it.”

  “Really?” said Fantom. “You sure you don’t need time to think it over?”

  “It’s the opportunity of a lifetime,” I said. “What’s there to think about?”

  “That’s the spirit. I’ll have my driver pick you up from Flex’s place. Say…tomorrow night at seven?”

  “Sounds great,” I said, forcing a bleak smile.

  ***

  Marrow…

  I was standing on the glass elevator of the Tartarus. It descended further than any elevator should ever be capable of.

  Can you hear me, Marrow?

  I felt like I was being pulled into the center of the earth. But even as I descended to treacherous depths, the Gaia Comet never strayed far from my view. Its jagged surface reached out to me with stone claws, pulling my gaze in with its alluring green mist.

  What are you hiding inside your head, Marrow?

  Neon green eyes glowed from the shadows—eyes without a body.

  Brother is going to kill you, Marrow…

  I woke up drenched in my own sweat, lying on Flex’s piece-o’-crap couch. I tilted my head to the window. The sky was an off-black canvas, painted in the glow of city light and pollution.

  A dream. It was only a dream.

  Except that I remembered my experience on the Tartarus all too clearly. That wasn’t a dream. I had no idea what it was, but certainly it was more real than I cared to admit.

  Being awake only reminded me that I still needed to talk to Flex. Too much had happened that night. I resolved to tell Flex about my conversation with Fantom in the morning.

  The thought of it twisted my insides.

  Unlike me, Flex woke up a new person. Seriously. Nothing could bring him down. The insurance company finally called and told him that his Volvo was totaled—big surprise there—and he laughed it off. When we walked to the auto shop to pick up the belongings from his car, he winced slightly at the sight of the videotape from Oracle, still sealed inside a manila envelope.

  He then threw the videotape in the trash on the way out and seemed to lighten up instantly.

  I paused at the trashcan as he kept walking. “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “What do you mean, what am I doing?” Flex asked. “What are you doing?”

  “Don’t you at least want to watch it?” I asked.

  “Hmm,” Flex thought aloud. “The video was a way of getting me to come visit her. When I finally did visit her, she used both of us as bait for Spine. Um…I’m going to say no. No, I do not want to watch it. Not even a little bit.”

  Flex turned back around and kept walking. I glanced back into the trashcan and cringed at what I was about to do.

  I shoved my hand inside. Something slimy grazed my wrist. I shuddered as I fished the manila envelope out. Wiping my hand off on my pants, I hastily scrambled to catch up with Flex. His gaze shifted from me to the object in my hands.

  “Really?” he said.

  “I want to see what you looked like as a kid,” I said, which was actually true. I was pretty sure he wasn’t born with dreadlocks, but trying to picture him without them seemed impossible.

  “You’re weird.” Flex’s critical stare morphed into an amused smirk. “I like it.”

  ***

  My first concern as we arrived home was that Flex didn�
��t have a VCR, and I wasn’t exactly sure where I was supposed to find one. A museum, maybe?

  I shoved this concern aside as Flex turned on the TV. I sprawled on the couch, facing the opposite direction. The last thing I needed was to see my father’s face on national news.

  “…the Anti-Telepathy Movement has just become World War III,” a female news reporter announced.

  Not what I was expecting. I shot back upright on the couch and faced the TV.

  “Senator Statman has been the leading advocate in the Anti-Telepathy Movement,” the blonde news reporter continued. “Since Oracle’s rampage last night, manipulating one hundred and sixty-two people as well as twenty-one cats, Statman has seized the opportunity to make a final, crippling blow on the community of telepathic Supers.”

  The screen shifted to an older, heavyset man with three chins and no neck. An army of microphones were shoved at his face.

  “Telepaths are a danger to our nation,” said Statman. “Not only is the right to have private thoughts violated but so is the right to control our own bodies and minds, as we have seen last night. Oracle is a Telepath whom we have trusted with matters of national security. Who is to say how many security breaches have been made and how many minds have been tampered with as the government has carelessly worked with her? Whether or not she was integral in the capture of Spine is a completely invalid point. Telepaths need to be more than just regulated. They need to have their powers taken from them.”

  The screen flashed back to the news reporter. “The President of the United States spoke in a public address earlier this morning, stating that every measure is being taken to assure that no such breaches have been made,” she said. “The White House has also issued what has rapidly become known on the internet as the Cronus Order—a mandate to gather into custody all Telepaths and to have their powers removed via the Cronus.”

  Flex dropped the remote control onto the floor.

  The screen shifted to a camera looking at the Cronus from inside Tartarus. The camera panned slightly, demonstrating the sheer scope of the cannon built onto the side of the Gaia Comet.