Superheroes in Prose Volume Seven: I, Galaxy

by Sevan Paris

You had me at ‘I was wrong.’

  Noel stomped to the other side of Thatcher’s console and ripped off the back panel. “We have to cut the power!”

  Thatcher rushed to her side, pulled at her arms. “No, not yet!”

  “Is she on the right track?” I said.

  Yes, at this point. The safest way—and perhaps most efficient way—is going to be to cut power to the machine or destroy it entirely.

  “Just give me a little while longer to compile the data!” Thatcher said to Noel, as she wiggled in his grasp.

  “M, power us up!”

  M did just that, replacing my skin and clothing with the blackness of space. My glowing eyes cast more light into the room and caught Thatcher and Noel’s attention.

  Thinking back on it, I’m surprised at … well, at Thatcher and Noel’s complete lack of surprise that I was there. But I guess when you’re in a town that has as many Supers as Prose, finding out that you had a Superhero in your tour group really wasn’t that much of shocker.

  M readied a Grav Blast, forming a glowing blue ball of energy around my hand. I pointed it at the Dark Lighter.

  Noel pushed herself from Thatcher and backed away from the machine to give me a clear shot. Thatcher stood his ground, hands raised. “NO! Please, whoever you are … this is as close to a miracle as science can give us. We’re—we’re actually manipulating dark matter somehow! This has never been done!”

  Yes it has.

  “This will change the face of everything about known science!”

  No, it won’t

  “I think we’ve had enough change for one day, doc.” I stepped to the left and fired the Grav Blast.

  And Thatcher leapt into it.

  The Grav Blast hit Thatcher in the chest, doubling him over and slamming him into the console. The blue clusters, one after the other, darted across the room and piled into him. His eyes rolled back into his head as the dark matter formed a massive glowing sphere of energy at the center of his chest. Sparks shot over his head and bolts of electricity enveloped him, surging away from his fingertips.

  And into Noel.

  She spasmed violently. The electricity engulfed her, blackening and peeling her pale skin.

  Then, with one last furious burst of energy from the Dark Lighter—everything in the room fell deathly quiet.

  Thatcher rolled onto the floor, his skin glowing white.

  Noel’s body, no longer held rigid by the massive current, fell to the ground dead, smoke rising from where her blond hair used to be.

  Yo-ho, Yo-ho, a hero’s life for me.

  ***

  Pink lets a few minutes of silence pass.

  I walk from Casa’s couch to the fireplace and toss in two handfuls of kindling.

  “I didn’t know,” Pink says in a low voice. “I didn’t know that stuff with Thatcher was you.”

  I pile two more handfuls into the fireplace.

  Pink floats up beside me. “Think that’s enough.”

  I plop to the hardwood, still holding sticks in each hand. “If I’d listened to M, that whole thing—that whole really bad thing—wouldn’t have happened. But something M was bad about, and something he’s still bad about, is … an exaggerated sense of self-preservation. That thing with the backfiring car, and a handful of other almost disasters, had gotten me to the point that I was ignoring pretty much every warning that came out of his mouth—or my head. Whatever.”

  Oh, let’s be honest, Gabe. The twitching tail of that redhead had more to do with it than anything.

  As much as I hate to admit it, M’s right. I look at Pink to share that dreadful piece of awesome when I see her transparent eyes looking at the floor. Her mind is somewhere else.

  Oh, look at the guilt on her face. How positively wonderful. Her merge with Black has brought all of those feelings of ‘exaggerated sense of self-importance’ to the forefront of her mind as well. Wouldn’t it be ironic if this story you’re about to tell her—in hopes of making her feel better—actually makes her feel worse?

  I give M a frustrated sigh and stand, clap-wiping my hands. “You okay?” I say to Pink.

  Pink darts to the other side of the living room. “Think this has just been proving my point.”

  “The first part does. But not the second.”

  From over her tense shoulder, she looks at me. “The second … wait, that thing on the Moon was you too?”

  I nod.

  “I never understood. Why there? I mean, I know it has some kind of base or something, but I never really bothered to learn much about it.”

  I raise my hand. “I’ll get to that in a moment. But before I do, I—you need to understand how I felt. There’s bottom, there’s rock bottom, and then there was me.”

  ***

  I can’t remember a lot about what happened immediately after Thatcher.

  I remember making a hole in the roof of Sequoyah Hall and flying straight out of it before the cops or HEROES showed up. I remember flying home and staring at my bedroom wall. I remember Petey laying beside me. I remember hearing Mom, who didn’t even know I’d been at orientation, coming home late from work and leaving early the next morning. I remember Jessica Gem leaving a voicemail saying my paycheck was taped to my locker and to call her soon. And then I remember falling into an epic state of depression.

  I just couldn’t get them out of my head: Brent Kelly and Noel Meyer. Two people with bright futures ahead of them. Two people that I helped kill in the most horrific of ways. Brent’s mangled face, Noel’s red and black body … I saw them every time I closed my eyes. And the worst part, or at least the weirdest part, was … I wanted to think about it. I didn’t have the right to do anything else. The very notion seemed obscene. Every bit of pain, of anguish, and guilt that I was feeling—I wanted all of it. It was all that I could give them.

  Then there was M …

  At first, it had been a non-stop barrage of I-told-you-so’s: “I told you that being a hero was far more complicated that you could have imagined, Gabriel … I told you that you couldn’t be prepared for a life that you’ve yet to live, Gabriel … I told you that college was a bad idea, Gabriel. This is proof positive that we’ll both be better off if you do exactly as I say from now on. And we should start with abandoning this Superhero nonsense. Strange as it may seem, you’re actually getting off light. Things could have been exceptionally worse.”

  And what could I say in response? M had been right about everything up until that point. If I’d listened to him, Brent and Noel would still be alive. And Thatcher would still have been doing what he was doing the day before orientation, instead of sitting in Prose General waiting to be questioned by the police.

  I may have been able to bounce back from Sequoyah Hall. I may have been able to get over M’s chiding. But the combination of the two was just too freaking much.

  On the forth day, M finally switched gears: Gabe, are you aware how long it’s been since you’ve eaten something?

  I rolled over in bed, and responded with a grunt.

  You may be prepared to waste away. However, I am not. We need sustenance. And I’m not talking about that grain and milk mixture you’re so fond of either. Something with real nutrition.

  Deciding that shutting M up was going to be the only way I could get back to thinking about Noel and Brent, I rolled out of bed and slowly plopped down the stairs. I searched through the kitchen cabinets and refrigerator for five minutes, but all I found was some spoiled milk and mold-peppered cheese.

  “I guess Mom hasn’t gone to the grocery store yet. We’ve got nothing.”

  What kind of mother neglects her young like this? Isn’t there someone we can report her to?

  “I’m going back to bed.”

  Oh no, not until we eat. This state of malnutrition you’ve reduced us to is unpleasant to say the least.

  “Fine.” I reached for the moldy cheese.

  Don’t. You. Dare.

  “There’s no food! And I can’t just go to the hospita
l to get money from Mom. Not like this. Not if we’re going to keep this stuff from her.”

  Agreed.

  “So, what do you want me to do?!”

  How should I know? But I’m going to keep singing the song by that Boy George individual until you find a solution.

  “What the heck are you talking—”

  And then M started “Do You Really Want to Hurt Me” with an insane amount of lyrical gusto.

  I sighed, thinking about the one place that I knew I could get some food and money. And thinking about how it was the absolute last place that I wanted to go. And thinking about how sleeping with the radio on was a really dumb idea.

  ***

  I made it to Rock Creek bookstore by 6:00 that evening.

  A quick glance through the front window told me that Jessica was up front, in the coffee shop, with a long line of customers. So I snuck in through the fire exit, with as much ninja as I had.

  The only source of light in the back room was a muted television. After three tries at my locker combination in the near-darkness, I managed to open the door and grab the packed lunch I’d left there last week: two large Slim Jims and an apple. I plucked my paycheck from the tape at the top of the locker and hurried back to the exit. My hand was literally on the push bar when the fluorescents shimmered on with an loud click. With a slow turn, I looked up and saw Jessica Gem standing there, hand still on the light switch.

  The right side of Jessica's lip tightened, forming a dimple in her cheek. "Decide to put in some extra hours?"

  The paycheck envelope crinkled in my hand. “I …”

  “I mean that is why you’re here, right? Otherwise, you would just be sneaking in to get your paycheck. And then sneaking back out without a word to me.”

  “You baited me out with the paycheck?”

  “Damn straight I did. Didn’t think you’d have the balls to actually pick it up from me.”

  I shifted from one sandal to the other. “Look, Jessica … I’m sorry—”

  She raised a finger. “Don’t wanna hear ‘I’m sorry, Jessica.’ That’ll just piss me off. What else you got?”

  Do You Really Want to Hurt Me?

  “I … things have been bad. For me. At college and stuff.”

  “Well, things have been bad for me too. Remember your job that I was holding for you, while you dealt with whatever it was you were dealing with?”

  “You … you held that for me?”

  “Of course I did! I said I was going to.”

  “But how … you’ve been covering my shift?”

  She laughed, even though she obviously didn’t find anything remotely funny about the situation. “I can’t afford to hire anybody else. What else am I going to do?”

  I couldn’t believe it. I had spent so much time the first part of the week enjoying being a Superhero. And spent so much of the latter part of the week realizing that I was terrible at it, that I never even stopped to think about Jessica. I mean, I knew she’d be mad for not coming back, but I didn’t think she’d been holding my job. Not that long anyway.

  She rolled her eyes. “I knew that you were gonna flake. I just knew it.”

  “Look, like I said, things are happening … with things and stuff.”

  Such as still learning how to speak.

  “Ha!” Jessica says. “You mean things like everyday life? That kind of stuff?”

  “It’s more complicated than that.”

  “No it’s exactly that complicated. Life sucks. All the time. You’ve gotta learn to deal—”

  “Sometimes, there’s just too much suck, okay?! And no amount of dealing, no amount of-of whatever is going to change the fact that I’m powerless to do anything about it! I’m not the power/responsibility guy … I just don’t have what it takes.”

  Jessica crossed her arms and slowly closed the distance between us. “Sometimes, the only way to find out if you have the power is to accept responsibility.”

  My mouth moved, but no words came out.

  “Oh, what now?” Jessica said, looking at the flatscreen on the wall behind me. She grabbed a remote off the top of the lockers and turned up the volume.

  “—Lisa Lancaster is live at the scene now.”

  “Thanks, Mitch. I’m here at University of Prose, which was the site of an attack earlier today, allegedly by Dr. Silas Thatcher. Thatcher, as you may know, used to be a UTP instructor of some renown. But an accident here at Sequoyah Hall four days ago transformed him into a Super. It was the same accident that tragically took the lives of grad student Noel Meyer and recent high school graduate Brent Kelly.”

  “Was anyone hurt in the attack?”

  “Thankfully, the building was deserted at the time. Which also means, it’s hard to tell if Thatcher took anything. Some of the equipment kept in this building is both highly expensive and dangerous.”

  “Okay, wow. Um, Lisa, I have two more questions for you: What exactly are Thatcher’s powers and is he being blamed for the deaths of Noel Meyer and Brent Kelly?”

  “Well, Mitch, as for your first question, authorities are still speculating. Now, as you can see here, the entire top two floors of Sequoyah Hall have been completely destroyed. So if Thatcher is responsible, his powers are considerable. Possibly on par with Silver Sentinel. As for the deaths of the two students, Thatcher was overseeing the experiment, so he is certainly suspect. He escaped police custody at Prose General two days ago, before authorities had a chance to question him.”

  “Lisa, I understand that there has been a lot of, shall we say, negative buzz about this guy over the past few days, from even before the accident. Involving his history and so forth. Can you shed some light on that?”

  “Sure, Mitch. Some of Thatcher’s colleagues say this recent behavior is abnormal and the accident must have impaired his judgement somehow. Others, however, say differently. Dr. Blumbart of CSU states, in part, that ‘Dr. Silas Thatcher has been a troubled individual for years. His obsession with proving dark matter theory has led him to endanger the lives of himself and others multiple times. Peers and students allow Thatcher’s passion to blind them to these dangers … the only surprising thing about the incident at UTP is that we haven’t seen it already.’ ”

  “Furthermore, Mitch, let me just also say that the parents of both Noel Meyer and Brent Kelly have gone on record stating that they fully intend to prosecute—”

  “I’m sorry, Lisa, but I’m going to have to cut you off. It seems that Thatcher is currently streaming live footage of himself to the Internet, stating what appear to be a list of demands and intentions. Please be advised, the footage you’re about to see may be unsettling. Parental discretion is advised. Let’s take a look now:”

  “—my career, I regret that my attempts to cast a light on the dark ignorance that has plagued humanity for so long, may have endangered some. I also regret that many of you can’t understand the necessity of these sacrifices. Dark matter does exist, and—with the aid of one individual—I will prove its existence before the world’s stage tonight. As for the identity of my assistant … well, you know who you are, and I know you have the capability to find me. Come quickly so that more sacrifices, unnecessary ones, may be avoided. That is all.”

  “Well … we’ll have more on this development as it comes in. Lisa, back to—”

  “This town and these Supers,” Jessica said. “It’s just one thing after—”

  I was out the exit door before she finished, heartbeat thudding in my ears.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “M, we have to do something,” I said, pacing an alley a few streets over from Rock Creek. “We have to stop him.”

  I know.

  “And just stop and hear me out, alright? I know I’ve been gloomsville or whatever for the past few days, but Jessica is right. I have to—wait, what did you say?”

  I said, ‘I know.’ We do have to stop him.

  You—you’re agreeing with me? You actually want to do the Superhero thing?”

 
No, I want to do the survival thing. Jessica’s words explained a great deal about your state of mind over the past few days and—you do know that piece of dried meat is not going to ingest itself, right?

  A heavy breath leaves my nose as I rip away the Slim Jim’s wrapper and tear away the first bite.

  Thank you. And even though this situation is the result of your action or inaction—

  “Hang on,” I swallow a mouth full of jerky, “let’s get that straight, dude: You didn’t exactly put this stuff on front street. If you had told me—”

  I did tell you, specifically, I told you that remaining in that room would place us in danger.

  “But you didn’t say jack about placing everybody else in danger.”

  Why would I? You have to understand, Gabe, that I’ve never had to place the welfare of others alongside my own. Now, not only are you expecting me to do that, but you’re expecting me to place the welfare of others ABOVE my own. And that of a limited species no less.

  “If this is going to happen with you and me—if you want a place to hide from The Council—then this is happening, this way.”

  …. I thought that this was all a distraction for you, but I was wrong. You obviously need this. To fix things. To help people. But why? In Void’s name, Gabe, why?

  “Because I can.”

  How stupid. How utterly and obscenely stupid.

  “Call it what you want. Call me what you want. It’s not gonna change my mind.”

  Oh, I wasn’t referring to you. I assume you have a plan for this Thatcher individual?

  I nodded and swallowed the last piece of jerky, glad that M was on board, glad that I had a purpose. Hating that it took Noel and Brent to get there. “Okay, Thatcher—how do we find him? Can you track him?”

  Maybe … if he’s still in Prose. But singling him out of a Superpowered population this dense will be difficult unless I know exactly what the nature of his powers are.

  “Well, we know he has the power to destroy most of a huge-ass building. That enough?”

  Don’t be absurd. Of course it isn’t enough. I need to know what fuels his abilities, not the abilities themselves. Void energy, the energies from that Dark Light contraption, all of the energies that exist between The Void and here … any one of these could be responsible for his powers. And unless I know which one to look for, chances are we’ll just be wasting time.