In just a few seconds (7.54, you know how I love my precision) I was at the bank. There were a large number of both SWAT and police officers and vehicles scattered around the building, especially the entrance. And a hefty looking crowd, none of whom seemed thrilled to see me. I’m pretty sure I even heard a few boos.
I really didn’t want to talk to them, but if I didn’t, everyone would probably start losing their heads, so I reluctantly landed by the front doors. Everyone looked shocked. Some of them even aimed at me– I’ll blame that on reflex under a tense situation.
“Uh… Hi,” I waved.
“Wanderer, was that you circling the bank earlier?” an officer– probably sergeant or something– asked.
“No, that was… someone I know,” I admitted. “That’s really more why I’m here. Don’t want to infringe on the work you fine gentlemen do.”
“Well whoever your “friend” is went inside through the roof, so you might want to start infringing,” another officer said, kinda rudely, from behind a cop car. I looked at the sergeant, seeing what he thought I should do.
“Would you?” he asked. Inside, my answer was a fat NAH, but under the circumstances, how could I refuse?
“Yeah, okay. Try not to send anyone in though; the more that starts going down the worse things could get,” I agreed.
“Is that a threat?” a cop asked cautiously. I looked over to him with as much sass as a totally masked super-human could.
“That’s a warning,” I said. I looked back at the sergeant. He was eyeing me hesitantly. “I know what to do. Everyone else inside? Not as much. Plus, if these scumbags have to deal with me, my counterpart, and all you guys, they’ll probably start acting drastically. People could very likely get hurt.”
“I understand. We’ll stay outside,” the sergeant said with a nod. I nodded back, and floated up. “You know Wanderer, I saw your interview. I get that you want to keep your life private, but you really should look into helping the public more. You sound like you’ve got a good head on your shoulders,” he said, stopping me in my air-tracks. I glanced down at him.
“Let’s just wait and see how this goes before we start making accusations like that,” I replied, then making my way once more to the roof.
There was an embarrassingly large, gaping hole in the left side of the roof. God damn it Sam…
I dropped myself through, and heard a lot of hustle and bustle going on one floor down. People were very nervously chattering, sometimes shouting, and there was a couple “tough” sounding men shouting back. And of course, there were the mumblings of a very falsely-confident, would-be superhero butting in.
“Listen to me, you don’t want to do this,” Sam warned.
“Man, I don’t think you do either,” one of the criminals barked back.
“Yeah, what are you supposed to be, anyway? A knockoff or somethin’?” another scoffed.
“Look, you either put the guns down, or I make you put the guns down!” Sam said, this time a bit more forcefully. A bit too much, if you ask me.
“God damn it, Sam, stop being such an idiot…” I muttered, quickly making my way to the staircase.
He didn’t realize the gravity of the situation he literally dropped himself into. If these people– with guns– got too aggravated, or even worse: scared, innocent people would die.
I peered around the corner. Sam was decked out in a hoodie and… ski-mask, I think? Good lord.
There were 13 hostages all-in-all, and four gunmen. Two of them were staying stiffly aimed at the people, while one of them gazed out the window every other second to watch where the cops were. Which, of course, left the last one speaking to Sam, standing maybe 3 feet away from him, and pointing a gun right at him.
He was shaking. Well, they were. Both Sam and the man aiming at him; they were both nervous. Which was, in both instances, bad.
“Last chance man, you leave these people alone, or you deal with me,” Sam threatened.
“You’re not him, man. You just showed up from what news says. You’re no hero. You’ll lose,” the man insulted. It was a heavy hitter too, by the looks of it. Sam tilted his head down, and I could see in his eyes he got angry. Great…
Then, very sloppily, Sam bolted toward the man, and at the same time he shot at Sam. So, of course, I dove into action.
I dashed in between Sam and the criminal, shoved Sam back into a column just hard enough to stun him a little, and take the hit of the bullet. I made it before it was even halfway to Sam. After all, I am faster than… well, you know.
The bullet ricocheted into the ground, and everyone gasped, criminals included, at my sudden entrance.
“You…You’re him,” the man stammered. The other criminals all turned to look at me, kind of fearfully if I’m honest, and aimed at me.
“Jas– Wanderer! What are you doing!?” Sam asked. Great save there, buddy.
“Ending this,” I said, not looking back at him. “Listen, let’s make this as easy as possible, alright? You four drop your weapons, and walk outside. Give yourselves up, and let these people go, safely.”
“Why should we listen to you, huh? You said it yourself, you’re not the hero!” one of the thieves in the back shouted. I turned and faced him. He flinched a little.
“I just burst out of nowhere and stopped a bullet from hitting someone three feet away. You really want to try things your way?” I asked.
“N...No,” he admitted. At least he was reasonable, for a crook.
Everyone was silent, and nobody made a move. Which was odd, because I distinctly remember giving out directions.
“So…?” I said. They dropped their weapons, and quickly filed out of the front door, their hands up.
The hostages stood up, and very awkwardly stared at me. I looked back at them, and then noticed the chestplate still in my hand.
“Oh, right. Uh… Ranger, take this. It’s gonna hurt,” I said, tossing it to Sam. He scoffed in disbelief, and right when he was– I assume– about to thank me, the chestplate flew onto his chest, ripped through his clothes, and dug into his skin.
He howled in pain, and fell onto the ground. The people all stared at me in… well, less happy looks than before, I suppose.
“It’s a suit,” I assured them. They didn’t look convinced. “It’s his first time, he’ll be fine.”
Sam slowly stood, using the column as support, and clicked the center of the chestplate. My center was like an upside down triangle with an octagon in the middle; little triangles and lines inside the bigger one. Sam’s was more circular, more basic. There were a few lines and details here and there, but it was mostly just a button.
When he pressed it, the suit extended all around his body, and took full form. I hadn’t seen it yet, and I had to admit, it was… annoyingly cool looking.
The main color was a matte black, and in parallel to my golden secondary coloring, he had a crimson red around the finer details. He also had white lights in more or less the same spots as myself. The mask was probably the most annoyingly cool part though. It was sort of hexagonal, with a crosshair-style visor down the middle, which was also red. There were fine details on the headpiece itself, and it was just… dammit, it was cool.
“This is… a-awesome!” Sam said, still in pain.
“Yeah. We’re going, now,” I ordered. He looked at me, confused by my anger, and then awkwardly glanced at the others in the room.
“T...Thank you,” one of the hostages said.
“You’re welcome,” Sam said.
“I… No problem,” I said at the same time. We shared a glance, and the crowd seemed almost as confused as Sam was.
“Are you all alright?” he asked, turning back to them.
“They’re fine. Now, Ranger,” I demanded, taking off, back up and out of the hole he had so wonderfully made in the ceiling. I headed toward the U.S.B. H.Q. He followed close behind.
He got there just a minute or so after I did, and we landed on the roof of the building.
> “What’s up?” Sam asked, trying to fiddle with his suit. “Gah… How do I get the headpiece off?” I reached over and pressed the side of his head, just by his ear, and the headpiece retracted. “Thanks.”
“What were you doing?” I asked.
“Saving those people from a bank robbery turned hostage situation. You saw that.”
“Saving them? Getting them killed, more like.”
“What are you talking about, dude? I had it under control!”
“There were still two men pointing guns at the hostages; any fraction of a second and they could have let loose on them– you’re not fast enough to stop that yet,” I said. “The guy on you said one thing about how you weren’t me, and you almost broke. I saw it in your eyes.”
“You were watching me?” Sam asked, shocked.
“A couple seconds before I stepped in, yeah,” I admitted. “Sam, we talked about this, you cannot just jump into situations like this. They’re not ours to handle.”
“What are you talking about!?” he yelled. “You got those guys to drop their weapons without even putting up a fight! We could be doing that all the time!”
“That only worked this once. What if they didn’t care about my words? My powers? What if they thought they could still win, or at the very least go down swinging?” I said. “Then whatever happens next– whoever dies next– is on us.”
“Those people needed saving,” Sam insisted.
“The police were handling it! That’s what they do!” I argued, raising my voice more than intended. “That is not what we do!”
“We have the ability– the abilities– to save the world! Bring peace to humanity! Why don’t you want that?” Sam questioned.
“Sam, if we slip up, even for a second? Those failures? Those deaths? They are on us! Why don’t you get that?”
“You really feel like with the gifts you have, when you do nothing, they’re not already?” Sam asked. I stared him down, and he glared back. “We only deserve these powers, Jason, if we use them right.”
“We don’t deserve them at all, Sam,” I growled. “If you still don’t get that, then maybe…”
“Maybe what?” Sam asked, staring at me. I looked away, and shook my head. I don’t think either of us wanted to hear what I had to say.
The wind smacked us in the face with its sticky, yet cool June gusts. They were oddly strong since getting back to the U.S.B. Like the skies were just as upset as we were.
“Hey, assholes!” Bentley yelled from the ground. “Get off of the god damn roof, and come inside!”
I looked back at Sam, as did he, and we didn’t move for a moment. It felt awful. It felt just like when we were in high school; fighting all over again over a stupid argument.
“Yeah, just a minute,” I replied, not looking away.
“God damn better be…” Bentley muttered, stepping back inside.
“Listen to me Sam, okay? Because I’m getting tired of saying this,” I said. “We are not gods, and we are not superheroes. We’re people with abilities, and people with a specific job to do: Protect this world from alien threats. Not human ones. You cannot be going out whenever you want and letting people see your face. You’ve got the suit now, but even still, you have to be careful. That girl’s mother is a journalist, and she heard that you talked to her daughter. It won’t be difficult for people to connect the dots if Bell and his people can’t cover that up, and you childishly flying around trying to show off your powers will only make things worse. Okay?”
Sam stared at me, and for a long time, he didn’t say anything. I didn’t like being such a dick to him, but we needed to get this straight. He was too reckless, and for the good of our own personal lives, the lives of the people we loved, and for the good of the goddamned city, we had to lay low. He needed to know that.
“Yeah… fine,” he muttered, then dropping down and cracking the pavement in front of the door. He walked in just as Bentley came out to inspect the damage.
“Son of a bitch!” he shouted. “You little pricks are gonna have to start paying at least for the damages you make around here, you know!” he said to me as I floated down next to him.
“I know, I’m sorry B,” I apologized. “To be fair though, you guys pay me anyway, so really what’s the point?” Bentley just groaned in desperation.
“What’s up his ass? You rip him a new one for jumping into that hostage situation downtown?” he asked, as we watched Sam go down with Jocelyn to the base.
“Yeah… kind of,” I said, sighing. “I don’t want to be an asshole, you know, but he needs to understand the dangers he’s putting himself– all of us, frankly– into with this nonsense. He acts like a child about all this; I just don’t get it.”
“He’s got something almost everyone and their mother looks at you and wishes they had. And more than that, the kid’s got a second chance at life, he’s gonna want to do what he can to make it worth something,” Bentley said. It was a shockingly solid point.
“Isn’t what we do now enough?” I argued. “I mean, he hasn’t been in the field much, but still, it was always enough for me.”
“That’s because you’re too blind to see the hero you are, kid. He meanwhile is too eager to be the hero he may not be up for. You both need to open your eyes a little, and learn to shut your goddamn mouths a lot more,” Bentley explained, growing frustrated again. “And stop smashing our goddamned office!”
He stomped off into the building, I’m assuming as to properly ruin this rather genuine and tender moment. I’m not complaining though.
8
Once Upon My Midnight Dreary
After a rather tiring, and very tensely silent training session with Bell and Bentley, Sam and I were getting out just around 11:30 that night. We both took the Jocelyn-way up, too tired to float there, and we walked outside. Silently. I want to stress that. We could basically hear our own organs moving we were so quiet. It sucked.
Sam made his way out the door first, and leant against the side of the building, staring out at the bay. I just stood behind him and steadied my breathing, trying to get back to a hundred percent.
The bay was calm, and the wind just seemed to graze the ocean with light wisps of air; the night sat in total tranquility with the world around it. It was nice.
“You know, I never told you, but… do you know what the worst part about being dead was?” Sam asked, still staring ahead.
“No… What was it?” I asked. He shook his head, and let out a shaky breath.
“I don’t even remember,” he said. “I don’t remember it being cold, or warm– light or dark, empty or full– nothing. It was like I was just… gone. No second chance, no goodbyes, no new adventure; just nothingness.”
I shuffled around in my spot, trying to think of what to say. That was some pretty heavy stuff though, you know what I mean? Not easy to just give him a “yeah,” or “that’s crazy, man.” So, you know, I just said nothing, and stared down at my feet. Then he sighed.
“Jason, I don’t get it…” Sam muttered. I glanced up at him, but he still just looked out at the sea.
“What?” I asked.
“Ever since I’ve known you, you’ve done the right thing. You have issues, and your anger can flare out of control sometimes, but you’ve always stayed on your mark. Somehow, you always know what’s right, even when nobody else does; even when nobody else wants to listen,” Sam explained. “Now you have these gifts– we have them– and I just… I don’t understand why you don’t want to help people.”
I frowned, and walked toward him. I put my hand on his shoulder, and he turned to face me.
“Follow me,” I said, then clicking my chestplate on. He did the same, and we took off.
I had to say, his suit definitely helped with the whole “training-wheels” concept of utilizing his powers. His flying was much more stable, and even though I had to slow down, he was moving faster than normal.
We got to where I wanted in just a few minutes, and lan
ded gently on the road. We were in our old neighborhood. Right where Haltz crashed four years ago.
It was late, and most of the lights in the surrounding houses were out, so we took the suits off. After all, if they just saw the two of us here, it wouldn’t be so bad. We did live here, way back when.
“Did I ever tell you about the night Haltz landed here? The full story?” I asked him. He shook his head. “I was walking outside, late at night. I was actually walking to clear my head over our whole thing at the time. I was wicked anxious, and everything felt like it was going wrong.”
We started walking down the road– we also ended up floating more and more as we did, but it was gradual. Hopefully nobody noticed that. I don’t think we could come up with a solid excuse on that one.
“All of a sudden, this thing just crashes behind me like: BA-BOOM!” I mimed, making him chuckle. “I turn behind me, and there’s just this dude all red and whatnot in a suit. Not like a suit-suit, but you know, our suits.”
“Right,” Sam said.
“Anyway, he says something about how I need to take this title from him. Accept ‘the Wanderer’ as my own. And when he did, he made it very clear that this wasn’t my destiny. It wasn’t predetermined for me, and there was nothing special about my having been picked.” I tried to stress that point, so he really got it. It’s something I’ve never forgotten myself. “If you or anyone else were there at that moment instead of me, there would have been a different Wanderer these past four years. In fact, there may not have been one at all,” I said.
By now, we were high above all the houses; we were essentially in the clouds. Though we still went in a circle around the neighborhood. It was oddly poetic.
“Next thing I know, I can do things,” I continued. “Things that far surpassed anyone else I’d ever known. I knew things that nobody on earth ever did before me– about worlds and species far far away. I knew all about the past lives of the other Wanderers: all the pains and joys they experienced. I was totally alone. Next thing I know, aliens that I’ve only heard of in my mind start showing up every other day, trying to kill me. What’s more, they’re almost all being thrown at me by some all-knowing, god-like, weaver thing that created what I have, only so he could have a worthy counterpart. Because he was so desperately lonely, he did almost anything to find an equal.”
The Wanderer (Book 2): Stranded Page 8