“Noted.”
“Batman and Robin don’t have super powers. We’re more like Hancock and…” Quinn paused. “I’m not sure who else is like Hancock except Superman.”
Mr. St. Germain jumped in. “You could be like Invincible, Captain Marvel, Hyperion…there are a number of multi-power wielding comic heroes out there. Or, you could be something completely different. That’d be tough though, all the tropes are taken. But no matter what the comics or movies say, you could very well be the world’s first superheroes, and this is your origin story.”
Quinn smiled. “I like that.”
“Now, the bigger question in my head is, who’s running that underground energy facility and what are they doing with it? You guys, I suspect, were an accidental awakening—unless they already know what it can do to human biology—or you’re the first to survive it. That would explain why Victor Kraze was so interested in what happened to you and if the hospital staff were honest about calling him in for all the strange stuff, you might not have been the first to experience it.”
“You mean there are others out there like us?” Quinn asked. “That’s what you’re saying, right?”
“It’s possible, but I have no idea. More importantly, if there are other super-powered people out there, we don’t know which side they’re on.”
“How would we even know if we met one?” Blake asked. “Better yet, would they know about us?”
“If that sensing thing you talked about extends to anyone who was dosed with cave energy, then you would sense each other.” Mr. St. Germain paused and shifted his head. “Unless the ability to mask yourself from others is a super power you could learn. Then you may never know if someone near you is super-powered or not. The exception might be you two since you were transformed together. You may never be able to hide from each other, which means you might have no way of practicing until you discover another super-powered person—or they discover you.”
“That’s scary,” Quinn said.
“I’m just theorizing,” Mr. St. Germain said. “We don’t know anything, really. Like I said, this is totally uncharted science.”
“Well, thanks, Mr. St. Germain,” Quinn said. “I feel better having spoken with you. At least now we can probably figure out how to control things better and not accidentally hurt others or blow things up.”
“Remember, as you learn to control your super powers—man, that’s something I never thought I’d ever hear myself say—you’ll develop the ability to use them better as your emotions sort out and mature. Come back whenever you have questions. I’ll do some research on my own to see what I can discover that might be useful. And thank you, boys, for trusting me with this. You just have to promise me one thing.”
“What’s that?” Quinn said.
“Don’t do anything stupid. Don’t put yourself out there, don’t try to be heroes by helping people. If anyone finds out about what you can do, you could ignite a shit-storm of media coverage that would only bring lots of unwanted heat down upon you guys. Besides, so far you aren’t bulletproof, and you don’t seem invincible yet. Both of you swear you will not be stupid about this.”
“I swear,” Blake said.
“Me too,” Quinn said. “But it’s gonna be really hard not sorting this out.”
“I didn’t say you couldn’t sort this out, just do it discreetly. Make sure you’re alone and no one’s watching you. You don’t need someone like Darien discovering your secret. Remember what Carmine Falcone told Bruce Wayne in Batman Begins, ‘You always fear what you don’t understand.’”
Blake and Quinn looked at each other and smiled. They loved that movie and for whatever reason, the line stuck with them and kept coming back.
“Just like in the new Man of Steel movie, people freaked out about Superman. They didn’t trust him and the military tried to take him into custody. They will slice and dice you to figure out what makes you tick and try to control you because they’re afraid you will represent their ultimate destruction.”
“Why aren’t you afraid of us?” Blake asked.
“Because I know you two. You’re good guys, and I’m pretty sure world domination isn’t one of your aspirations. Am I wrong?”
“Nope,” the boys said together.
“All right then. Get out of here before my head explodes. I have no super power to prevent me from being distracted with this for the rest of the day.”
The bell rang as the boys thanked him again and headed off to their next class.
1-13 | Darkness Rising
Blake
“SEE YOU LATER, BUDDY. TRY not to burn anything in your boredom,” Quinn teased, snapping his helmet straps together after school. Then, he pedaled away.
Blake smiled and waved. “Have fun at work and don’t worry, Portsmouth will be safe today, I promise.” Blake watched his friend pedal away for a moment before pulling on his backpack. He swung his leg over his bicycle, strapped his helmet on, and looked around. Most of his teammates had already left after track practice and those with cars were heading home or to their jobs. He took a deep breath, exhaled, then pushed off and cycled away from the high school.
Several minutes later, Blake pedaled down Court Street, his running tank top flapping in the wind. He steered his bicycle through Prescott Park until he rode across the Peirce Island Bridge and found himself turning left onto the raised path that brought him to the park and picnic areas on Four Tree Island. He jumped off his bike and walked it to one of the park’s covered picnic spots and rested it against the picnic table. He pulled off his helmet and backpack and set them down next to his bike. A number of roofed picnic areas dotted the perimeter of the small island and at its center, a large grassy field offered enjoyment for everyone. He sat on the picnic table and rested his feet on the seat in front of him.
At last, peace and quiet.
Although it had been an unusually stressful school day, he was glad their talk with Mr. St. Germain garnered insight about their developing abilities. Still, he knew he had to be careful about how much he shared with Quinn and Mr. St. Germain because they would not appreciate what he wanted to do with his super powers. For the first time, he realized he would have to keep secrets from his best friend.
Blake stared across the churning Piscataqua River at the Portsmouth Naval Shipyard, a busy submarine repair and refit station. His vision provided incredible clarity and the sounds of various machinery reached his over-sensitive ears. Today, a second submarine was parked against the exposed docks, but he couldn’t see how many were parked in the large dry dock building. He decided to sit for a while because the water’s edge was a great place to think and he didn’t want to go home and face his angry father again. He had no idea how they would pay off the expensive hospital bills they received.
Focusing on the passing water of the river, he quieted his mind and reduced the enhanced loudness of the shipyard and other sounds around him. Although Portsmouth was on the river and not the ocean, the harbor and river waters were tidal, and the faint smell of salt water filled his nose. Blake found something rejuvenating about the smell of salt water combined with the afternoon sun he couldn’t explain. At the moment, however, low-tide challenged his sense of smell with the sun-baked odors of drying seaweed, dead fish, and other unpleasant scents he could not identify.
Behind him, two girls giggled under one of the covered picnic spots. He glanced at them, but they were caught up in their own world, enjoying something on their phones. He returned his gaze to the river and watched several fishing boats navigate to the docks on the left side of the island. Several deep breaths later, his thoughts returned to his new, super-powered ambitions.
If I’m not going to be Quinn’s sidekick, what does that mean for me? What exactly am I going to be if I use my powers differently from Quinn?
He shifted his butt on the table and stretched his back before resting his elbows on his knees, his chin on his clasped hands. Quinn totally wants to do the Superman thing and save people wh
o need rescuing and all that stuff, but that’s not what I want to do.
“Hey ladies, mind if we join you?” a man asked loudly. The roughness of his voice broke through Blake’s focus. I hope I get this under control soon.
“No thanks,” they said. Blake glanced over his shoulder and saw two men sauntering across the grassy field toward the girls. He felt himself tense up, instinctively knowing something was very wrong with them. One man was tall and heavily tattooed, the other was medium-height with less tattoos. Both wore pants, white tank tops, and larger-than-necessary gold chains around their necks that hung low on their chests. The shorter guy held a brown paper bag in his hand that looked as if it contained a bottle of liquor.
Aw, shit. A sinking feeling descended over Blake as he realized he might have to intervene before the situation turned ugly.
“What’s the matter, don’t you want to party with us?” the tall one said. “Sun’s out, great breeze, and you fine ladies look like you need some fun company. That’s us!”
“No thanks,” the girls said, their voices more insistent and annoyed.
The men were not deterred. “Come on,” the short one pleaded, his voice betraying irritation. “We’ll have a lot of fun, I promise. I know this because you’re really beautiful girls.”
I don’t think those guys have seen me yet. They don’t know I’m here.
Blake pulled his legs and feet up and turned himself around, resting his feet on the picnic seat that faced the inside of the picnic area so he could better see what was going on. He looked around for help but didn’t see anyone else on the island. There were no signs of life on the mainland or on Peirce Island, either.
Shit, I’m gonna have to deal with this…unless I just leave…
“Leave us alone please,” one of the girls said, her voice now nervous and upset.
“But we want to have fun with you tonight,” short man said, his voice slurred.
“Jake, can you help us, please?” she asked, looking at Blake.
Blake didn’t move. He straightened up and pointed at himself. Is she talking to me?
The girl nodded emphatically. “Yes, Jake, you. Could you come over here, please? Now?”
Blake stood and the two guys turned around and glared at him, their eyes full of anger.
“Well, well, what have we here, Jake? One of Portsmouth’s finest? Go Clippers, my ass,” tall man said, smirking at Blake’s track tank top. Short man laughed wickedly and Blake immediately regretted not changing after track practice. His tank top identified his last name, team number, and the school he attended.
Blake slowly walked a wide circle around the men, keeping his front to them so they wouldn’t see his last name. He made his way to the girl’s picnic table. He felt scared and didn’t know if the two men would walk away or try to take him out. Short man took a swig from the paper-bag covered bottle and passed it to tall man, who took a longer swing. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and jeered at Blake.
“Why don’t you take your pretty face and run it out of here, Jockey-poo,” tall man said, putting on an effeminate accent.
“It's Jake,” short man said, drunkenly correcting his friend. Then he spoke to Blake. “We don't want to have to hurt you so beat it, kid.”
Blake took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. There's no way I'm getting out of this mess now.
“I’m sorry, I can’t do that. The ladies told you they didn’t want to hang out with you—”
“That’s just too damn bad,” tall man slurred, swiping his hand across the open space in front of his chest.
“You need to leave,” Blake said loudly, trying to assert himself as the situation deteriorated. “Just leave the park and go away.”
“And how are you gonna make us leave, Jake?” tall man asked, stepping forward with a menacing glare in his eyes. He passed the bottle back to his short friend, who chuckled.
Blake turned to the girls. “Get out of here and don’t look back. Call the police when you’re safe in Prescott Park.”
“Oh my gosh, thank you Jake,” one of the girls said and they grabbed their belongings. “You need to get out of here before they hurt you.”
“Yup, I will.” Blake nodded at them.
“Thank you so much, if you weren’t here, we could be…”
“Jake, you’re ruining our fun, you little pisser,” the short man yelled.
“Don’t go,” the tall man loudly pleaded. He stepped toward the girls but Blake stepped in front of him, cutting him off. The two drunk men hesitated, unsure of what they should do.
Blake watched the girls hustle away and make their way back to Peirce Island. He decided not to correct the thugs about his name in case they told someone about what happened. If they kept using the wrong name, no one would be able to connect him to what was about to happen.
Now, step forward, show them who’s boss. You can take these two jerks out, they’re drunk.
Blake stepped forward and stared into tall guy’s eyes. “You wanna play with someone, asshole? Then let’s play right now.” He felt his adrenaline surge with a fight reaction as the power behind his eyes blaze.
“What the hell?” the short man said, pointing at Blake’s eyes.
Then the drunk tall man coiled his arm back with surprising speed. “Fuck you, you little prick!”
This is gonna hurt!
Tall man’s right hook slammed into Blake’s jaw, impacting the flesh and bone with a strange thwuck. The force of the blow barely turned Blake’s head. His jaw hurt a little, but not like it should have.
Tall man screamed in agony, clutching his right hand with his left. “What the fuck?” he yelled, falling to his knees. “You almost broke my hand!”
“You little punk,” short man snarled.
Blake became irritated with them and felt his body temperature slowly rising. He reached up and felt his jaw, which surprisingly, didn’t hurt.
Short man side-stepped and then jumped forward, slightly off balance but ready to attack. Blake saw his opening. When short man pulled his arm back, Blake’s left arm sprang up and forward. He delivered a swift uppercut that slammed the man’s jaw shut as his head rolled back. His hands and arms moved out to his sides as the man fell backwards, landing on his back with a thud.
Blake looked at his left hand, which should have hurt. Instead, he only felt heat radiating from his body as the grass around him scorched.
Tall man pushed himself off the ground and staggered toward Blake. “I’ll cut you,” he said, fishing for something in his pocket with his right hand.
Knife!
“No, I don’t think so,” Blake said. He jumped toward the man, ready to strike. The man was faster and raised the knife.
Shit!
Blake tried to sidestep left but couldn’t dodge the jabbing knife. It struck him on the right side of his abdomen and he stopped. Blake’s eyes opened wide as he froze in place. He didn’t know what being stabbed felt like, but the sharp pain on his right side gave him a significant clue. Oh no!
The man snarled and laughed at the same time.
Blake looked down and saw the tip of the knife pressing against his track shirt. “Why didn’t you stab me?” Blake asked, panicked.
“What?” the man asked, surprised. He looked at his right hand and the knife. He pulled it back and jabbed it forward again, aiming for the center of Blake’s torso.
Blake felt a sharp pinch where the tip of the knife touched his body. Though it pressed against his running shirt, it did not seem to penetrate his skin.
Oh wow, because you can’t…I’m knife-proof!
Blake smiled, his eyes blazing orange. The man looked at him with fear in his eyes and stepped back. Blake moved with him and landed a right hook to the man’s temple. Tall man’s eyes rolled up as he fell to the ground like a tree that had just been cut.
Timber!
He turned to face the unconscious men and felt himself becoming angry. “I’m going to make you pay for what you
tried to do,” Blake said as anger filled his veins, the familiar sensation of intense heat rising in his body. He looked back for the girls but didn’t see them or anyone else. Remembering how his boxers had nearly burned at the family fight, he pulled off his tank top and gym shorts and tossed them about ten feet away. He examined his skin where the knife had made contact, but there was no blood or stab wound.
Fantastic!
Standing in his boxer shorts, he squatted low and pointed a hand toward each man, hoping his running shoes and socks could take the heat. I have no idea if this works this way, but you guys totally deserve to get burnt for what you were about to do.
He focused.
The heat surged through his body and he relaxed, allowing the heat to radiate away from his body. Within seconds, the grass around him wilted and the exposed skin on the men became pink, taking on the appearance of a bad sunburn.
If I see you losers again, I’ll make you suffer far worse than a mild sunburn.
Blake took a deep breath and stood. He felt the power behind his eyes fade. He looked around, then jogged over to his track clothes. He pulled on his shorts and looked around again, but he still saw no one. The girls had just cleared the walkway gate on Peirce Island and popped into view, so he ran over to his bike and backpack and shoved his tank top into the waistband of his shorts. He didn’t want anyone to see his name or team number.
He pulled his backpack on and then jumped on his bike as soon as it cleared the picnic table. He pedaled past the two unconscious men and flipped them the bird as his bike changed gears and he made his way across the walkway.
When he crossed the Peirce Island Bridge, he turned right and made his way through Prescott Park. People relaxed on benches or walked through the park. None of them, apparently, had seen him wield his powers. Behind him, two police cars, lights and sirens blazing, made their way onto Peirce Island. He assumed the girls had called 911 and now he was glad to be away from the scene.
He thought about going to the coffee shop to see Quinn, but it was early evening and he knew his buddy wouldn’t be able to get away from the customers to chat. Since he wasn’t ready to go home, he decided to pedal around Portsmouth for a while.
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