My muscles strained against the metal bar. I fought against the weight. The veins on my forearms bulged, pulsing from the effort. I tried my best to stop my back from curving during the bench press. Ego lifting was pointless. I would NOT fail Zyzz.
With a last-ditch effort, I put everything into the last push, getting all 225 pounds in the air.
"I'm the man. Damn straight." My confidence had reached a peak I didn't think possible. For the first time in my life, I wasn't ashamed of myself, my appearance, or my intelligence.
Using a fairly weak strength power, I sat up from the bench, curling the weights in my hand. I wasn't training for strength because I needed to; I just like how it makes me feel. The aesthetic change wasn't a bad perk either.
I'd be lying if I said I wasn't vain. We all have our own flaws. It's what made us human. Thankfully being physically built wasn't just a personal goal; the version of me who'd been dropped here would have no chance of fitting into a suit of any kind. Just thinking of my overweight lard of a body squished into skintight spandex made me sick. It was only after so many months of painstaking effort did I see the true faults in my lifestyle choices. I could have changed for the better a long time ago. Being dropped into Marvel doesn't excuse who I was before. I'd make things right.
Well, to be honest, some would say I already have.
I stood up, staring at the only mirror in this expansive space. A lean physique, and compact, dense muscles, alongside generous genetic insertions, made me look like I could fit in with the Greek spartans of old. Pastor Maddox had been trying to get me to go to a real gym. Something about 'socializing' and needing to meet people. Bless his heart.
I put on a thin black compression shirt before getting back to real work.
On my desk sat an arrangement of materials. Most importantly, pieces of armour. Of course, with my newfound technological prowess, I decided to go against just wearing a skintight suit. I'll be limiting some of my abilities, namely those that altered my physical body in some way. 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 powers. But I'd take enhanced protection over mildly useful abilities. Again, without knowing exactly what powers I had, trying to guesstimate would be an incredibly dumb idea.
I grabbed an Opaque white helmet. The headpiece itself was made of glass. Tempered by controlled chemical and thermal treatments. Utilizing my 𝘎𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 specialization, I made a three-layered helmet. In between two layers of special glass was industrial-grade plastic, transforming a normally weak material into a mostly bulletproof helm.
I realized quickly after the fight with the Ancient One that most of my abilities, not including my forcefields, don't protect the clothes I wear. Walking home butt-naked after combusting into a fire elemental was traumatizing enough for me to put a lot more effort into making my suit.
The helmet was split into two parts, connecting together seamlessly to look like a single component. The face plate was flat, with contours curving to accentuate a jawline and cheeks. A way of humanizing and separating me from other people.
The eyes were empty sockets, the surrounding area coated by the most expensive material on my armour. Tantalum Hafnium Carbide Alloy, an astounding 9,500 dollars PER KILOGRAM. The same chemical compound is used on spaceships to stop incredible heat. The best heat-resistant man-made creation, capable of containing my heat vision at 100% for long periods of time.
Still, I'd have to exercise extraordinary restraint just to keep the maintenance cost of repairs down. This was really making me appreciate how much Stark lost for his heroics and for supplying the team with their own individual equipment. He shouldered the burden of an entire team of highly destructive individuals. All of which cared more about saving people than preserving Stark's wallet. Great for humanity, not so great for logistics.
Placing down the helmet carefully, I took note of the work that had yet to be finished. Sleek matte black armour. Intended to be as thin as possible, covering the surface area of my body snugly. With how thin it was, there were a variety of problems. Namely what it could be composed of.
Tungsten. The hardest metal on Earth.
Completely useless.
I didn't know this, mostly because I didn't pay attention in class, but hardness had a different meaning in scientific terms. Tungsten was very heat resistant and difficult to scratch, much like Diamond. Both of them, however, were very brittle. Something that my brain just couldn't compute. So it was ruled out pretty easily. I added steel, gold, and every other big-name metal to the 'useless junk' pile. There wasn't anything wrong with them per se, but at the level of thickness I needed, all those metals became useless.
So, I was forced to look somewhere else. Hours of research later, I stumbled upon graphene. Stupidly strong, yet thinner than all hell. Perfect for what I had in mind. The innermost layer in contact with my skin or clothes consisted of a titanium sheet. Durable, strong, and flexible even at a minuscule thickness. On top of that was the newly found graphene, a single layer that sat on top of the sheet. Using a power that focused on manipulating the phases of matter, I was able to stack two layers of graphene on each other. No more, no less. Graphene loses its potential when stacked with more of the same material. Bonding till it eventually formed the much more common graphite. I'd rather not make a suit out of something kindergartners broke by accident.
Stacking another titanium sheet and graphene layer combo had me at 4 layers of scary durability. The weight of an elephant pressing down on the surface area of a pencil tip might break through. The top was a mix-matched layer of titanium and carbon fibre. Titanium was used where my body bent and turned, using carbon fibre in the areas that didn't. That included my forearms, femur, fibula, back, and chest, to name a few.
I'd estimate its durability to be around or even better than any current Iron Man armour. Not that Stark couldn't have created something similar or better. It just wouldn't make sense on his part to try. Graphene did great things, but was notoriously difficult to make, something I skirt around using a heavy application of my powers. So why go through all that effort for a suit that needed to be replaced as cheaply as possible?
The answer? You don't.
Whatever gold titanium alloy the Iron Man suits were fitted with was already strong enough. The only thing I remember it losing to was the strength of Thor, a literal god. Suffice to say, he wasn't losing out on any negligible improvement he could make by burning money.
He was also unlucky enough to use a lot of internal space for inertial dampening. Being a squishy human didn't do him any favours. I, on the other hand, had about 9 different powers that could tank a hit from the Hulk. And that's me lowballing. The only thing that might give him an edge is my aversion to bulky designs. Creating power armour sounds cool on paper, but when you can punch your problems away or blast them even harder, wasting that time not doing something else seems silly.
Thinking about the properties of my suit, I glanced at the hollow helmet. Flashes of brutal memories played through my mind. Actions of a different man. My own body used to debilitate and harm without care. The contrast in my mental state during that bank robbery and the boxing match was like night and day. Of anyone I could've picked to emulate, it had to be 𝘩𝘪𝘮.
From now on, any power that changed my personality was banned till further notice. At least until I was more comfortable with the sound of broken bones. He didn't mind, but I'm the one who had nightmares. I'm the one who had to live with the trauma.
It was just… scary. I hate to admit it, but killing people was easy. Too easy. Should I even care? Am I a monster for even asking that question? I just didn't know. There were too many questions, and Lord knows I wasn't being given the answers.
"Why does everything have to be difficult?" I mumbled out the question.
𝘒𝘯𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘒𝘯𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘒𝘯𝘰𝘤𝘬
"Be right there!" I yelled, Thankful for something to distract myself with.
Pastor Maddox was a great man. He didn't bat an eye when I asked him not to enter the warehouse without my permission. Sure, I owned the place on a technicality, but it was still his church. Who knows what I could be doing down here. His trust in people was something I admired.
I pulled open the door, leaving it closed enough to hide my work.
"Sorry to disturb Alex, but Sunday service is about to begin. If you'd like to join again." He asked politely.
Ever since he walked in on me working the first time, I've been attending the services he held every other Sunday or so. I wasn't the most religious guy by any means, but it gave me something to ground myself. And, of course, I knew the truth. That a God, big G, did exist in this multiverse. Even with all the minor gods and demons running around the place. They weren't truly all-powerful. The One Above All held that title.
"I just got done with a workout. I was going to finish up some projects, but… they can wait an hour or two."
"That's great to hear. We can never have too many people listen to the gospel. Come, follow me."
We walked up to the main church hall. Families I recognized from past Sundays filled the pews. This was a popular church, always full of people from various backgrounds. Their belief rallies them to gather, understand, and help one another.
Pastor Maddox led me to the front row, where he had kept a seat for me just in case I decided to join.
While sitting down, the woman next to me shifted in her seat. I looked at her quizzically. She stared, looking me over in a trance before finally meeting my gaze. The eye contact must have been too much for her as she looked away quickly. Her cheeks were rosy… was she blushing?
Weird. Wonder what that's about.
"Now, good people! Let us begin the Sermon. First, why don't a few of you tell us about what you've learnt about the Lord? A Bible verse shall do. Would anyone like to go first?" Pastor Maddox addressed the congregation.
"Ooooo~me! Me!" A kid cooed from somewhere farther back. The adults in the room chuckled at his enthusiasm. I smiled at his attempt. I was nowhere near as brave as he was at that age. Presenting a school project was anxiety-inducing for me. A church filled with people would've given me a heart attack back then.
"Why, of course, young Freddie. Why don't you give us one." Pastor Maddox said. You could tell he loved the enthusiasm.
The boy stood with a beaming smile that could melt the heart of anyone.
"Jesus wept!" He shouted proudly.
I deadpanned as quiet laughter ensued. I'd praise the boy if he hadn't been so enthusiastic.
"Wow, Freddie! I quite like that one. Jesus was moved with profound sorrow at the death of his friend and at the grief that his other friends had suffered. It taught him of the sanctity of life and of the evil of death. It is death that haunts us all, but it is also what makes us who we are. What would life be if there was no end." Even with something as small as two words, he still managed to bring out meaning. Taking the kid seriously would encourage him to study and learn more. Smart.
That and there was some truth to his words. Immortals did have a tendency to go insane. Zeus became a rapist and murderer at some point. Which, if you live indefinitely, means nothing in the grand scheme of things. When you've lived that long, I doubt mortal morality affected you much.
"Kenneth, if you'd like to continue."
The man in question was odd. Black hair, circular-rimmed glasses, and a resting face that screamed crazy. He kept to himself mostly, visiting the church with his father, the local mortician. Unlike what you'd assume, the older man didn't have an aura of death around him. He was actually really nice. Just a guy stuck with a job that paid well and didn't feel like changing because a few people found it weird. Respectable honestly. His son, on the other hand…
"Hatred stirreth up strife," he spoke robotically, "but love covereth all sins." Practiced lines. If I had to guess, his rather devoted father was the only reason he showed up to church.
"Hate is powerful. It is a sickness that has inflicted much pain on most in this room. Know this, it is love that cures the heart. The only thing hate achieves is lead kind people into a life of despair." He explained ominously. Sometimes I wonder if there was some deeper meaning behind his words. He spoke like he knew these things on a deeper level. Experienced them in a way that the average person didn't understand.
His gaze lingered on the crowd before turning to a specific woman.
"Ms. Contreras, if you will."
I've seen her before. A small-time news reporter for the Daily Bugle. I quite liked her opinions on regimes and political overreach. Though at times, you could see the glaring issues with her line of thinking. It's one thing to criticize a failing government. It's another thing entirely to run a country. Working on my company's growth day in and day out taught me that management is the single most difficult thing to control. And I was only one person. Imagine millions of individual people with their own goals and ideas fighting to have their voices heard. It was a delicate process that journalists in their ivory towers would be hard-pressed to tackle. Still, she tried her best.
"I made a covenant with mine eyes; why then should I think upon a maid?"
"Excellent choice. Temptation…is a tool. The deceivers and the devil himself gleefully abuse their power over humanity. It is in our very nature to be tempted. It was Eve who ate the fruit, tempted by its secrets. It was the temptation of wealth that Judas betrayed his brethren Jesus Christ. For as it says in the Bible, lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil: For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, forever, Amen."
"Amen!" A choir of voices echoed within the church.
As everything quieted down, a buff burly man raised his hand. His hair was wild, unkept and long. He had a typical biker physique coupled with numerous tattoos visible with the wife beater he wore. A guy like that at church, I guess you really can't judge a book by its cover.
"Yes, Deacon. Go ahead."
"I was almost in all evil in the midst of the congregation and assembly." Definitely… a more interesting passage.
"We all struggle with sin, Deacon. Don't be ashamed of sharing with us. Everyone here has experienced many, if not all, of the deadly sins. Seek repentance with the Lord, for he has a great purpose in store for each and every one of you."
Pastor Maddox took a moment to look through the community. Everyone here lived different lives; the lessons they learned were engraved in their hearts. We all had something to share, and we were given a chance to do that here. Without the judgment of others to weigh us down. His eyes caught my own, and he smiled for a moment before addressing the assembly.
"Let's have one more before we move on to the scripture… Alex, why don't you share with us."
I was caught for a loop. I wasn't the best at public speaking, and I sure as hell wasn't any better now. The moment of silence, as everyone waited for me to speak, seemed to last an eternity. A heavy silence that only I felt uncomfortable in. I went through the few proverbs that I knew. Anything that resonated with me on a deeper level. All my biblical knowledge was from overseas. My family were ex-pats, rarely staying in one place for longer than three years, thanks to my dad's job.
Seconds passed, and even Pastor Maddox grew uncomfortable. As he was going to ask me if I was alright or perhaps move on to someone else, I spoke.
"…The Lord is with me; I will not be afraid. What can 𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘴 do to me?"
And for a single moment, a flare of golden light flashed through my eyes.
*.*.*.*
"Yes, Mr. Webster. Yes, I'll make sure to verify the lease papers." I heard voices behind the basement door.
My feet hit the ground at 200 steps a second. Using enhanced speed, I moved anything of importance into an assortment of boxes around the room, out of the way of prying eyes.
The key lock turned before the real estate agent stepped into the warehouse.
"I'll give you a call after the property check. Yes, Sir." A series of beeps played out as the call ended.
"Mr. Mercer, thank you for your timely payments. Everything has been going gre—"
She froze, staring at me with wide eyes. She gave me a once over, looking at me from head to toe.
"You ok, Ms. Rosenberg?" I questioned. Everyone besides Pastor Maddox has been acting strange around me lately. Did I have something on my face?
"Oh, y-yea, I'm a-alright." She stuttered out. She was a portly woman. Black hair framed chubby cheeks. A beauty mark on her right chin, right below her lower lip.
"J-Just here to do my r-regular checks, hahaha." She laughed awkwardly at the end. Downplaying her reactions.
She walked around the room, checking for any damages. She would glance at me from time to time, looking away in embarrassment whenever I caught her in the act.
"Everything seems good. I-I like what you've done with the place." She twirled a strip of her hair between her fingers. I repainted the decayed walls as soon as I moved in. She's been here before, so I don't know why she's bringing it up now…
"Thanks… took me a while to do the ceiling. Almost fell off a ladder a couple times." I lied. An application of short-range telekinesis did all the work.
She laughed. It was a cute, melodic sound. I checked all the powers I currently had.
Nope. No emotional manipulation ability equipped. She was voluntarily being weird. Huh.
"I'll see myself out. It was nice seeing you again, Alex." She brushed past me, pausing when we came in contact for a brief moment before finally leaving
"Yeah, nice seeing you too…" I trailed off as she left. Interesting Interaction.
Speeding everything back around the room, I sat down to finish the last part of my suit. A hooded cloak. Weaved with kevlar and polyethylene. A heavy application of powdery Tantalum Hafnium Carbide Alloy finalized the piece.
I've watched The Incredibles. The hate for capes is understandable but can be quickly disproven using real-life scenarios. A person is doused with flames and needs protecting? Just cover them with your body; that'll work!
Wrong.
Your body would, without a doubt, let some fire through unless you were the size of the Hulk. The cape wasn't just a fashion statement. Greater surface area equals more protection. Which is why I used the rest of the expensive heat-resistant material on my cloak instead of in my armour. The positives greatly outweigh the negatives.
That and capes are pretty damn cool. Nobody can convince me otherwise.
Either way, reinforced carbon fibre could theoretically survive most things that exist on the planet. I'd have to bargain with Wakanda for some Vibranium. That or find a way to make adamantium, if it even exists in this universe. There was a high possibility it did. I always had a feeling that the sword Thanos uses was made of the stuff or some other indestructible metal. It's the only explanation for how he was able to break Cap's shield. That, or lazy writing. I was hoping for the former.
I knitted together the last few fabric connections, placing strong neodymium magnets that would connect to various parts of my suit. Eight millimetres of the stuff generated a force of nearly four pounds. They were the same magnets I had working in my Magnetic Fusion Reactor, MFR for short.
Speaking of, I think it's time to check on it. I had it powering a custom heat compressor. Using the alternate energy source hid me from anyone who looked too closely at the power grid. The immense power drain I needed to speed up the compression process would have called in a few questions. It also needed a few weeks to complete the process.
I powered down the equipment, unplugging the orb from its connection. The turbine still shone bright blue, indicating the drain was nothing too costly. I placed it into another machine; this one was huge in comparison to everything else in the warehouse. An atmospheric pressure device. Same concept but a different purpose entirely.
𝘉𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 and 𝘚𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴. Two powers I found fascinating. I'd be lying if I said I didn't geek out at first.
My eyes burned. Rays of intense heat bathed a large chunk of tungsten metal, melting it to fit into a bladed mould. The furnace didn't serve a large purpose besides acting as a shield to save the surrounding area from being destroyed by the heat.
Using a pair of tongs, I pulled the blade out of its mould. Placing it on a stone bench.
𝘊𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘊𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘊𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘬
I hammered it into shape. Indenting a fairly large area around its edges. Deforming the blade till everything besides the fuller was thin. Too thin.
I quickly changed powers, dismissing heat for cold. Red hot veins flooded with icy cool blue. The metal mould solidified at the rapid drop in temperature.
I opened the compressor, pulling out a large crystalline formation. As I reached for the tungsten blade again, power overtook me. Enhanced strength easily lifted the dense metal. I fitted a metal sheath on it. It was shaped in a way to cover the fuller of the blade so it wouldn't be coated.
Again, my eyes flared. Crystals broke down on an atomic level when subject to heat. I took each individual chunk and threw them into the sheath. A metal cap clicked into place at the end of it, closing the blade and crystals off to the outside world. Quickly, I placed it into the other powered compressor. Capable of applying pressure around a few million times more powerful than Earth's atmosphere. Sounds impressive, but scientists have already built something like this before.
It worked its magic, and not too long afterwards, a sharp beep notified me when it was done.
I removed the sheath, popped off the cap and pulled out the end product. Tungsten fuller, and a thin tungsten outer layer. And in place of the missing thickness was the aforementioned crystalline structure.
Diamond. Melted to fit the blade perfectly.
Tungsten and Diamond. Both of the worst materials you could ever make a weapon with. Tungsten was strong but brittle. Diamond could cut through most things, but molecular fractures in its structure could break it easily.
I grabbed the blade, and a power took hold. The blade glowed a brilliant gold before the light faded. I flipped it in my hands before slamming it into a metal table. It cleaved straight through. Slicing through steel like butter. The blade was reinforced with a power that strengthened materials. It would take awhile, but the more I reinforced the blade the better it would be. Eventually, it'll be stronger than any sword on Earth save a few made of 'special' metals.
A few hours later and everything was complete. Dark tungsten metal for the blade, pommel, and grip. The circular hilt reminded me of the Dawnbreaker from Skyrim. At the center was the MFR. Enhanced strength carried the sword easily. My grip tightened, activating internal mechanisms. The blade vibrated, turning into a blur.
My fear of absolutely decimating Earth with seismic manipulation was completely valid. Even more so with the MFR at my disposal. This sword could produce a magnitude 8 earthquake. It would break in the process, but my point still stands. I could wipe out a city with this when it was completed.
I needed a name.
My mind wandered to the past, of flames and fire. Controlled destruction. A power that I used, that I shouldn't be able to. A forgotten pantheon.
My form changed. The warehouse shook slightly, the pressure from the rising heat pushing its stability to the limit. Flickers of fire danced around the room. Floating around their master.
A sword to bring about peace. Place down judgment against all. To bring order to a multiverse of madness.
My sword, 𝐊𝐨𝐬𝐦𝐨𝐬.
I turned the sword. With a finger, burning with the heat of divine power. I inscribed words down both lengths of the tungsten blade. In a language I should not have known.
Ο Κύριος είναι το φως μου και η σωτηρία μου; ποιόν θα έπρεπε να φοβάμαι?
'The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear?'
Ο Κύριος είναι το οχυρό της ζωής μου; ποιον να φοβηθω?
'The Lord is the stronghold of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?'
𝗡𝗼 𝗼𝗻𝗲.
*.*.*.*
"Here are today's contestants!"
Pieces of armour hung in the air. Levitating under my control.
"A marketing copywriter. From Detroit, Michigan, Tracey Carry!"
'I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me.' The legendary mantra played in my head as I brought the floating pieces closer to my body.
"An aerospace engineer. From Chicago, Illinois, Adam Brashear!"
'For my ally is the Force, and a powerful ally it is.' Black composite plates settled on the tight compression full-body clothing. Their interlocking magnetic components lock them into place. Golden light illuminated in between the parts. Highlighting detailed lines on my arms, legs, and torso.
"Lastly, we have a special guest. This young man has won Jeopardy a record 94 times. Consecutively, might I add! A returning fan favourite, also from Chicago, Illinois. Please welcome Douglas Ramsey!"
My cape wrapped around me, clicking into place. I grabbed my helmet. Staring at the slightly glossy visage. I put it on, slowly getting used to the weight on my body. The cloak went around my throat, covering the tiny gap between my helmet and suit.
With a click of a button, the tv changed to the news channel. I was ready to roll. I left my blade at the warehouse, knowing there wouldn't be any need for heavy firepower at the moment. It still needed more enhancements before it could be taken out on the field.
"Hello, this is Anna White with Cabletech News, reporting from Rockwall in Fort Worth, Texas. And wow, folks, it is getting quite extreme out here as a minor tornado is sweeping down the Johnson County area! As you can see, the graph from a local weatherologist details the size to be an EF1. Low on the scale…."
I tuned out her voice, focusing on the important information. I picked up my phone. Looking up Johnson County before finding a few clear images. I focused, pulling for a power I'd used months prior. The air warped as the image became clearer in my head. With a sharp 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘱 sound, I disappeared. The only things left behind were a phone and a large scar in space.
I appeared halfway across the country, in the street of a small rural town. There were several shouts and screams around me. The sky was dark, clouded by heavy wind. At the center of the commotion stood a torrential wind formation. A tornado. Small, but dangerous all the same.
A power took hold of me. A mid-level Brute turned me into Superman-lite. With a bound and cracked asphalt, I scaled the distance between me and the natural disaster. I hung in the air for a moment, still unused to the feeling of flight, before rushing to the ground. My feet dug into the dirt. Using my superior strength, I pushed back against a falling horse trailer. I could hear the fearful whine inside. I wasn't the most animal-loving person out there, but even I felt sympathetic.
𝘊𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘬
I watched a house collapse. I could see a person scarily close to danger. I had to leave the animal sympathy for later. Fairly easily, I pushed the trailer back upright with a single hand. I dashed toward an elderly man about to be crushed by a roof. I grabbed him gently, using my back to protect him from the falling debris.
"Are you alright?" I stood, shaking off large planks of wood.
"T-Thank you. You…you saved my life." He was in awe. I could see the light glinting in his eyes. Hope.
With no official Avenger team-up, heroes weren't really well known. Besides Tony Stark, a few shaky videos of Culver University, and the near myth-like legend of Captain America, I was probably the only superpowered person he's ever seen in person.
"Yeah, don't worry about it. As long as you're safe." I felt a tad bit uncomfortable. The dream of being a hero was always just that, a dream. Living it out was surreal.
"W-Wait!" I stopped walking away, turning back to hear him out.
"I called my nephew to make sure she was ok! There's another tornado worse than this one!"
"Where?"
'Another one?'
"At Ellis, Dallas. Please, she's the only family I got left. Please save her."
I patted him on the shoulder to reassure him. I lifted off the ground lightly before turning up the dial and soaring through the sky. I could see another gathering of clouds in the distance. It was far, too far. My current power would get me there in 30 minutes, 25 tops. Opting out of choosing a faster flight ability, I blinked out of existence, crossing the distance instantly.
"Woah!" I shouted.
A flight power greeted me just in time to dodge helicopter blades. A news crew was live broadcasting the situation. I can't blame them; this was probably one or two categories more dangerous than the last. The destruction I could see below would cost the city millions.
There were too many. Too many people, too many responsibilities I'd have to account for. My power set shifted around, less useful flight to make way for something more. My hands came together. The racing winds slowed, reeled in by my control. With an effort, the tornado disrupted, dissipating into a powerful breeze. My hands were inches away before finally cupping together, signalling the complete stop of all wind in the area.
𝘞𝘩𝘶𝘱-𝘞𝘩𝘶𝘱-𝘞𝘩𝘶𝘱-𝘞𝘩𝘶𝘱-𝘞𝘩𝘶𝘱-𝘞𝘩𝘶𝘱
The helicopter hovered around me, no doubt playing the scene on millions of screens across the country. I briefly waved at the camera crew before dropping down to the city.
My hand reached forward, telekinetically lifting flipped cars back on four wheels. A semi-trailer lifted out of the side of a house, floating safely back on the street. I walked toward another trailer still attached to its truck. I brought my hand under it, and strained to lift it up. My fingers searched for more leverage, struggling to lift it with my own strength. My powers rapidly changed, looking for something that could do the job. It settled on tactile telekinesis, and with a monumental effort, I lifted the 20-ton vehicle back upright.
A few dozen more and the job was done. I could feel beads of sweat rolling across my forehead under my helmet. This was a lot more work than I initially thought. Looking down at the carnage, I couldn't help but remind myself that I was doing something good.
Even the least emotionally expressive person could feel something at the tragedy. Homes upturned, schools destroyed, and a shit ton of broken cars. I cringed at the insurance payments that would come from this.
"Damn it, my legs!" A scoured the area for the origin of the voice. I could see a guy struggling to move himself from under a large chunk of bricks.
I jumped up, landing near the guy.
"H-Hey, p-please help me g-get up!" He wasn't thinking right. The fear and pain got to his head.
I grabbed the heavy wall, lightly lifting it off his crushed legs.
"AGHH! I c-can't feel my legs. Fuck man, I-I can't feel my legs." He teared up. I could get him to a hospital within seconds, but more likely than not, he'd be cripple for the rest of his life.
Unless I had something to say about it.
My arm faded, a light orange tint outlining the appendage. He startled, pushing himself off to move away from the freak show.
"Hey, don't worry. I'm not trying to hurt you." I tried calming him down.
He stopped struggling, still unconvinced about my motives.
"I'm just here to help; trust me, please." He looked down for a moment, debating on what he should do. After a tense few seconds, he nodded his head, motioning for me to do what I wanted to. I moved my hand through his leg. My ethereal body phasing past matter. His ripped clothes reappeared brand as new in the area my hand touched. After passing through both knees, I dismissed the power, reaching forward to pick him up.
"W-Wait. I think…I think I can move." Understanding him, I stood back to give the young guy some space. He shook his legs to test out the feeling. Shakily, he stood, walking around to get a feel for his healed appendages.
Tears started streaming down his cheeks. I saw dozens of emotions shift through his face all at once, overwhelmed by the terrifying experience. I'd feel the same way, too, if I almost lost my ability to walk indefinitely.
I stiffened slightly as a pair of arms wrapped themselves around me. My dad was the military type. We rarely hugged, if at all. Still, my mother taught me how to deal with my emotions and how to be accepting of others.
Rubbing his back soothingly, I let him get off his stress. He stepped away when he was back in a somewhat better mental state. I gave him an understanding nod before leaving the area. There was more to do, and I'd be damned if anyone died today.
*.*.*.*
𝘉𝘈𝘕𝘎 𝘉𝘈𝘕𝘎
"Hey Victoria, I got something for you, darlin'."
"Yes, Daddy?"
𝘉𝘈𝘕𝘎 𝘉𝘈𝘕𝘎
"I see you're gettin' mighty good with that old Colt I gotcha. Aims as good as any of my army buddies. I heard there's a storm brewin' up in Dallas; why don't you come inside."
I twirled the revolver in my hand. Daddy don outdid himself this time. Never thought I'd find the perfect gun for me, but here I am.
"We're miles away from trouble; a little wind ain't gonna hurt no body. And don't flatter me like that. You might give me a bigger head." I stood with my feet shoulder-width apart, gripping the gun firmly. I wrapped my hands together, straightening out my elbows so my wrists and forearms could absorb the recoil.
𝘉𝘈𝘕𝘎
Bullseye.
"Haha, we both know I can't do that. You're just like your mother, as beautiful as she was too." He stood with a silver case under his arm. The only man to show me unconditional love.
"Thanks Dad. That really means a lot to me." It did. He never talked about her much. Always got too emotional. But he's told me enough; she sounded like a great woman.
"I just wish…I just wish she coulda been here to see you all grown up." He lowered the cowboy hat from his head, holding it to his heart. He was hurting. Hurting in a way, I couldn't help. I hated seein' him like this.
"I know… but things happen. You raised me the best you could. I'll be damned if I fail you now." I dropped my gun on the counter, wrapping up the old man in a hug. Even if I couldn't make him feel better, I'd do the best I could.
"You've already made me loads proud dear. Here, before I forget." He patted me on the back, always the one to reassure his only baby.
He pulled away, pushing the silver case towards me. I took it in my hands, opening it up delicately. There were metal pellets inside. Shaped differently than any I'd ever seen.
"Bullets?" I asked.
"They're special. Why don't ya try it out." He smiled knowingly. This is why I hate surprises. I wanted to know, damn it!
I picked up my revolver, swinging out the empty chamber.
𝘊𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘊𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘊𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬
Perfect fit. Custom made? I gave him one last questioning glance before squaring up for another shot. I focused on the target. Slowly, I pulled the trigger, and the familiar ear-splitting shot of a gun rang out. This time, a sharp glint flashed and trailed the bullet.
I walked to the target. Instead of a dent, embedded in the metal target was a sharp metal object. I yanked it out before inspecting what it was.
"A star?"
"I thought I'd get you somethin' meaningful. You were a gift from your mother, Vicki, my little Shooting Star." I felt a heat rush to my face as tears welled up in my eyes. I rushed him, nearly tackling him off his feet.
"Thanks, Dad. I love it."
"Don't worry dear. you'll get your chance at the Rodeo. I'll make sure of that."
*.*.*.*
"Is he going to be ok, Doc?"
"I'm sorry, Mr. Daniels. His body… the radiation… we have no idea what the long-term effects of something like this could be."
I dropped my head. This was the worst-case scenario. I spent so many days of my life working on the farm, neglecting the two people that mattered the most to me. And now… now it might be too late to make up for it.
"I'm sorry, sir; I wish there was more we could do." The doctor gave me a nod of understanding before walking away. I wanted to shout. To curse out the medical staff and force them to get my boy some help, but that'd be selfish. My son wasn't the only person affected by the storm. The doctors and nurses had enough on their plates already.
I walked back to his room. There were a soft voices talking inside. Pulling the door open quietly, I brushed my ear lightly against the opening to eavesdrop on their conversation.
"It's gonna be alright, Drew. Don't worry about a thing. The doctor will get you good as new, you hear me?" My wife Grace was rubbing his back. Trying her very best to help him through the pain.
"…yes, mama." My heart burned. I've never heard my boy sound so weak before. He was covered in bandages from head to toe. Radiation dermatitis, the doctor called it. Burns that might scar him for life.
"Hey, you doing alright, kiddo?" I built up the courage to walk in. Placing a hand on my wife's shoulders, I gave her a gentle squeeze to comfort her. She looked back, sadness in her eyes, a quick smile to show she appreciated the effort.
"I-I'm ok." I looked away for a brief moment, unable to look him in the eye. To see his pain. The TV sitting in the hospital room was on. A broadcast of a weatherman played out, with no volume to give any context.
"Buddy, I think they're playing a few reruns of Ben 10. I can switch it on for you if you'd like." I offered.
Drew nodded, too tired to vocalize a response. I grabbed the remote, fiddling with the different buttons with an unfamiliar design. Being raised a farm boy, technology wasn't really my forte.
"—are witnessing a miracle. Reports coming in from ground zero all point toward a mysterious individual who is keeping casualties at an absolute minimum. Is this a hoax or an act of divine intervention? Well, I think it's time we find out. We're taking you back to our camera crew filming the incident. Back to you, Neal."
"Thanks, Kenneth. This is Neal Conan reporting live from Kaufman, Texas. I assure you this is anything but a hoax. So far, we haven't been able to catch this so-called saviour. However, we have seen them fly; you heard that right, fly from one natural disaster to the next. We don't know how, but they've been able to completely stop the torna—"the live feed cuts off as the TV changes to another channel.
"What a joke. Do they think we're dumb? Tony Stark makes a suit, and now everyone thinks there are superheroes living among us. People will believe anything these days." I ranted. Anything for views. These companies didn't care about the common folk. The people who get hurt by their false hope. A pack of vultures, the lot of them.
"Dad…"
"Yes, buddy?" I rushed to his side, holding his hand in my own.
"Could…could you change it back." I couldn't do anything but give him a pitying look. Ever since he was born, my little boy loved heroes. The western gunslingers who fought bandits and saved the girl. He wasn't as young as he used to be, but he admired them all the same. I didn't want the news to let him down.
"I'll put it on. Just let me know if you need me to change it. I'm here for you." I gave him a light pat before switching through the channels again.
"—found him! Manoli, over there!"
The screen whirled, stopping at a scene of utter chaos. Trees were uprooted left and right. A few homes were levelled entirely. My hand covered my mouth; I couldn't believe the damage. It would take months to recover from this.
My eyes widened in shock; a black BMW flew through the air, heading straight for a school bus. I read the side label on the vehicle quickly. Crosby Elementary School. Oh my god…
A blur. It flashed past the screen faster than my finger was able to change the channel. I paused, watching as the person swiped at the car. You could hear the sound of warping metal as the hit sent the car careening off into another street. He floated, and they were definitely a guy, checking the inside of the bus. He threw a thumbs up to the kids inside before floating up. I watched in shock as his hands performed weird gestures, somehow 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 the tornado. Before long, the natural disaster disappeared. Like nothing had ever happened.
"Wait! Sir! We're trying to get a statement!" The news crew rushed to the descending form. Pushing a microphone in his face.
"How were you able to do that? Where do you come from? What is your name?" A flurry of questions flooded out of the reporter's mouth. His single opportunity to break international news.
I waited, holding my breath.
"…𝐄𝐢𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐧."
His voice shook the camera slightly. He stepped back, pushing off the ground and flying away from the frantic reporter. Too many questions raced through my mind. Too many to take notice of the changes in my son.
"Dad… he's kinda cool." Almost unnoticeable to human perception, the air in the room shifted. A wind blew In circular patterns. Blowing away dust, and lightly lifting the hair of everyone in the room. On the bed, a boy sat. Fingers twirling without his knowledge. He would dream of heroes tonight. And in those dreams…
The young man would fly.
*.*.*.*
"Hello, Chandler. I hope you've found this place to your liking." The voice of that bastard again. He couldn't even leave me here to die in peace. I shifted, rustling the chains that pinned me to the wall.
"The hell do you want now, Tremont." I spat out his name. The utter hate I had for that man couldn't be put into words.
"Please, we were friends once. Why act so cold?" He opened the cell, grinning at my current sorry state. Locked in a prison where no one would find me.
"Friends don't backstab each other. Friends don't torture each other. Friends don't loc-AGHHHH!" I screamed in pain. The Taser ran a strong current through my body, zapping away what little left I had of my defiance. I'd lost my dignity a long time ago.
"Don't speak unless you're spoken to. Do you understand?" I stayed silent, still reeling from the pain.
"I said… DO YOU UNDERSTAND?" He roared, pushing the Taser against my abdomen.
"AAAGHHHHH!" My head was swimming. I couldn't think straight. If I could, no doubt I'd articulate a word to tell this guy to go fuck off.
"Good. That's better, isn't it? You make things so much more difficult than they have to be." I wanted to punch the smirk off of his face so bad. I knew I'd never be given the chance. That moment went and passed when he betrayed me.
"Now, what was I here for again? Hmmm. Interesting, I seem to have forgotten. I guess I'll come back tomorrow. If you're lucky, I might even take you out for a walk." He taunted.
"Oh suck a di-ughhahhhh" I clenched my jaw shut as the electricity ran through me again. He wouldn't get the satisfaction of hearing me in pain the third time.
"You'd think after all these months I would have broken you by now. See, that's why I like you so much, Chandler. Always the optimist."
I can't do this anymore. How much do I have to go through before I'm free? I could end up dying here at this rate. I can't…𝘸𝘦 can't do this…
"That's it! That look of despair, of lost hope. It's moments like this that I live for. Thank you. You've reminded me why I came here." With a cruel smirk, he walked up to me. He held out his hand, and fragments of glittering light danced around his palm.
"I'll be taking this back to its rightful owner." He shoved his hand into my chest. I screamed, unable to contain my voice any longer. I could feel my strength leaving me. The powers I'd had for so long were forcefully stripped from my body. He fished out a glowing object. We both stared at it; the beauty it glowed will. Suddenly, two more came to life. All three swirled around each other before finally coming together to form a prism. He shoved it into his chest, claiming the power as his own.
"W-What are you going to do with it?" I asked weakly.
"The foundation is still looking for new recruits. We'll find someone; I'll make sure of that. Goodbye, Chandler. Don't have too much fun while I'm gone." He left, locking the cell door behind him.
I hung motionlessly on the wall. The pitter-patter of water droplets was my only form of company. I waited. Waited for someone, anyone, to come to save me.
I waited, and no one came.
*.*.*.*
'C'mon, you got this. Why're you nervous? Nothing bad's gonna happen anyway.'
I paced around the room, hyping myself up for the next event. I was never scared whenever I performed. Even when I crashed, I never seemed to get hurt. A blessing from above, the doctors had said. It's just, ever since Dad…
"Hey man, you ready?!" A voice brought me back to focus.
"Yeah, Mack! I'm ready when you are!" I called back. Shaking off the adrenaline.
"Good shit Johnny. Let's give 'em a hell of a show."
My nerves would have to wait. I had fans to entertain. I could already hear the cheering from all the way back here. They all came to see me, and I wouldn't disappoint.
I hoped on my bike, bringing it along to the start of the stunt. The crowd was absolutely deafening. I loved this part of the job. The adoration and fame, who wouldn't?
'Ok, you got this. You can't live in fear. You can't leave in fear.' I told myself. If you kept lying, eventually that lie would become your truth. I've done it this long, and it hasn't failed me yet.
Unbeknownst to me, a man sat in the crowd of thousands. Alone, distant, but not at all cold. He watched as Johnny rode his bike out, cynically unimpressed. As the bike engine roared, unfamiliar laughter followed. Not the kind fans made. No… this was filled with malice. An unending army of hate.
As the crowd stood, the man followed suit, clapping his hands alongside the people surrounding him. The stuntman flew across the track, jumping off the ramp, only to come down too hard and crash into the dirt.
The cheers and claps ceased. While everyone else gasped in horror, for only a moment, the face of the curious observer shifted.
How could he help it? After all, he was Johnny's 𝘣𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘢𝘯.
The man clapped, with a 𝒅𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒉 smirk on his face.