The Real World

by Jacob Long

  Now, the real fun begins. I float within about thirty feet from the top of the overpass. As soon as the silver sporty and the black luxury cars pass the top, I shoot a powerful and enormous jet stream of flame directly at the pavement. The road splits into two halves as I meltdown about twenty feet of cement and metal. The instant disintegration creates a massive cloud of dust and smoke. It covers the area surrounding us within about a hundred yards, reaching the freeway. Just the kind of cover that we need to make a proper escape with. "Jayden, now would be a good time to 'change' cars. If you know what I mean." I say over the comm system as I fly down toward the vehicles.

  When I land, Jayden is setting up the imitation device on the black luxury car. We made a program before. Just in case. A basic, white vehicle that should blend in comfortably on the streets. He activates the device, and like magic, it changes. I walk up and open the driver's side door of the silver car. Xyla stares at me. "I think it will be best if I drive. I have the most experience in this world." "I can't argue with your logic, but I need you to go with them. I'll lead the police away." She hesitates for a moment "Always the hero," she says. "That's yet to be determined," I reply. She stands up, and I rush to get into the car. We both move to the same side, blocking each other's way. I back up so that she can get out.

  "Let's not bring out the medals quite yet," I reply. "I'll meet you at the rendezvous point. Take care of those guys. They need you." She shakes her head and smiles before running over to the other car. We drive off at the same time at a steady speed with Real Jayden in the lead. Once we get onto the freeway, I speed up and change lanes creating distance between us. With the smoke cover and the radio frequencies jammed, our plan works perfectly. I drive for about three minutes before a police car spots me. They flip on their lights, so I press down on the accelerator.

  It doesn't take long for me to develop a following of four police cars. I race down the freeway reaching just over one hundred miles an hour. At this point, the vehicle lifts slightly off of the ground. It feels like I'm about to go flying. I'm sure by now, the others have had enough time to reach the rendezvous point, so I slow down to pull the car over and fly myself the rest of the way. I'm not sure if I'll have the energy for it though. I need all of my abilities to start kicking in. I search the glove box for some form of sustenance only to find an operator's manual and some air fresheners.

  As I'm about to pull over, I notice another vehicle join the chase. It has some type of heavy duty armor. It speeds pass three of the cop cars and clips the last one sending it hurling through the air. This can't be good. Before I can react, the armored vehicle collides with the bumper of my silver car. I spin around and around three times before coming to a stop. Now I am weak and dizzy. I lift my head up to see the armored vehicle parked several yards away, and four thugs, walking toward me. One is the big bodyguard from the airport. He is about twenty yards away, but I can tell that he is enraged. I look to the other side of the car and see a hill that must have stopped my spinning vehicle. What a shame. Even though it's not my car, I'm infuriated to see it destroyed. At least, on the inside, I'm enraged.

  On the outside, I'm in a lot of pain, and my blood sugar is still low. I must have smacked my head against the steering wheel and my shoulder as well because my stitches have opened up. The big bodyguard reaches the car and rips the door off like it's the lid to a can of Pringles. I could really go for a can of Pringles right now. He tosses it aside and reaches in. He yanks the seat belt out and pulls me out with ease. Two of the other thugs pull the senator decoy out of the back seat. The big guy looks at him and looks at me. He lifts me up into the air. He dangles me from my collar.

  "Time for you to talk, fire boy." How does he know that was me? My imitation device is no longer activated. I don't look like the security guard anymore. "You look different, but your brain still works the same." He must be a low-level telepath. That's how he knows the senator I have is a fake. "Who are you calling low level?" He tightens his grip. I don't have the energy to take these guys down right now, so instead, I generate a ball of flame around my fist and knock him in the jaw. He loses his grip, and before I hit the ground, I burst into flame shooting straight up. It's at this unfortunate moment that I realize; I don't have enough energy to fly over to the rendezvous point.

  In fact, I barely have enough energy to stay in the air as it is. I end up nearly crash landing in an alleyway, almost falling into an open dumpster. Thankfully, the streets are too busy right now, however, there are still quite a few people that look at me in astonishment. I decide to walk through the alleyway and to the other side of the buildings hoping that I can blend in over there. I use anything and everything to hold myself up as I make my way.

  My heart is pounding. Beads of sweat drip from my forehead. I look around for somewhere to eat. The buildings start to blur together. I kneel down next to a fire hydrant as I reach for my comm button. “RT” my voice is breathy. “I need something to eat.” “No problem. Just hang on,” his voice is accompanied by a lot of static. It feels like several minutes before he replies. “There is a diner right behind you.” I turn around to see a forties styled diner. “Oh. So there is. Thank you, RT.”

  He replies, but all I can hear is static before the connection goes cold. "RT? RT, come in. Xyla? Jayden? Callum?" There is no response from any one of them. I can't work on fixing the comm device right now. I don't have the energy. I summon all of my strength and trudge my way up to the door. I hold my stab wound with my hand. I barely make it to a stool without falling over. I wave to the waitress behind the counter. "soda, please. Anything with caffeine."

  The sugar and caffeine should give me the wake up that I so desperately require right now. "Yeah, no problem. Be right with you," the waitress replies, nonchalantly. She does a double take of me and must feel sorry. “Just a second guys.” I can see her in my peripheral vision, walking away from the two guys at the other end of the counter. I look over. They don't seem too happy about it. “Are you all right, kid?” The waitress asks me. Kid? Where have I heard that lately?

  My mind starts to jumble. Then I recall a tough bald guy calling me 'kid.' It's Barrett. I remember Barrett. "Kid. Hey, Kid." I snap out of my daze and look up to see the waitress pushing a glass of a fizzy, caramel colored liquid up to my face. "I didn't know what soda you wanted, but I figured you looked like a Dr. Pepper guy. Does that work?" "Yeah," I say as I grab the glass and take a drink. She stares at me while I drink the entire glass of soda. I guess I can't blame her for staring. I'm drinking like a thirsty wild animal. "It's perfect."

  I set the glass down, look up at her, and smile. She smiles, "Well, I'm glad it worked out. I got you some water as well." She pushes it toward me. "You should drink it too. You don't look so good." She pauses. "I mean, you look kind of sick." I drink the entire glass of water as well.

  “Do you want some more?” She asks.

  “Yes, please.”

  “Of both?”

  "Definitely." I reply.

  “Oh, and can I get some scrambled eggs and wheat toast.” I look around the diner. “In that booth over there, please.” I point to the booth in the far corner nearest the restroom. She smiles. “Well, since you asked nicely.” She replies. “I'm Monica, by the way.” “Thank you, Monica. You're saving my life here.” She smiles and walks past the two guys at the counter and back into the kitchen.

  The guys stare me down as I make my way to the restroom. “Where you from, buddy?” One of them asks me. “I'm from out of town,” I reply as I walk to the bathroom. When I get in, I look around to make sure there is no one in there. I take my shirt off, wash my wound, and pat it dry with paper towels. Then I wrap the shirt around it tightly. I activate my imitation device to make it look like I'm wearing a slightly bulky jacket so that the wrapped up shirt doesn't show. I take off my helmet and pull out the comm system. Upon first glance, it doesn't look good. I don't get much time to examine it before the door opens and the two guys from the counter walk in. I qui
ckly conceal the helmet, and it's separated comm system. “Hey, look who it is.” The second one says. I give them a slight smile and keep walking toward the door. The first one puts his hand on my shoulder to stop me.

  He gives me a strange look. "Were you wearing that jacket before?" "I smile and nod. "Not much of a talker, are you?" he continues. I take a deep breath and look up at him. He's a few inches taller than me. The other one is about an inch shorter than me. "I'm just not having a good day," I reply. He pauses. He looks at his friend. He looks back at me. "Well, we are certainly sorry to hear that, my friend. Look, my buddy here has been working on that fine piece out there for a few weeks now."

  He gestures toward the diner, and I'm assuming the waitress inside. “So maybe you can just not get in his way.” “What a lucky gal she is,” I reply. “Excuse me?” he leans in. “Guys, I'm not looking for a date.” They stare me down, momentarily. "Good. So you'll stay out of his way?" I look at him for a moment. I turn to look at the second guy. My instincts tell me that these guys are low-end criminals. Thugs. Goons, even. "Yeah, sure," I reply. I walk past him without waiting for permission to leave. I sit down at my booth. The two guys follow a few seconds behind. They walk back to their stools at the counter. As I set the comm system on the table, Monica walks out of the kitchen with my food.

  Now that I'm a little more coherent, I think I see what's going on. Monica is an attractive woman. Those guys must hate that I stole her attention away from them. Although, I'm not quite sure why she called me kid before. She looks to be only about seven or eight years older than me. Of course, I didn't have any romantic intentions, but now that they have shown their true colors, I'm not sure I care to lose her attention. "Here are those eggs and toast that you wanted, and another Dr. Pepper, and... another water." "Thank you," I reply.

  She gestures to the sad device laying out on the table. "What happened?" she asks. "Oh, I dropped it onto the ground, and of course I stepped on it." "Oh, I hate when I do stuff like that. There's a cell phone store a couple of blocks from here. If you want, I can get you directions." "Oh, no. I like to fix these kinds of things myself. Thank you though." I examine the device again. "Oh, wow. It looks like you probably need a new one, but if you can fix it, that's impressive." I look up at her and smile. "Thanks," I reply.

  Of course, I won't be fixing the comm system. It is definitely beyond fixing at this point. I'll have to have RT send me a new one through the Quantum Spectrum. However, at the moment, I can't get anything from the Extreme World. The Quantum Spectrum is set up with my manica, and unfortunately for me, I gave them both to Real Jayden. We thought he should have them in case he needed to use them for self-defense. In retrospect, a gun may have been a better idea for him. He does have slightly more experience with guns than he does with the manica I guess I can convince myself to do just about anything. Anything...

  "Anything else I can get for you?" The waitress asks, politely. I snap out of a trance. "Oh, thank you. Actually, if you could get me a phone book. That would be much appreciated." She laughs, slightly confused. "Oh, you're serious?" I smile back but not jokingly. "Well, this is a 40's style diner, but I don't think we have a phone book." "Oh, well. That's too bad. I really could have used one. That's okay though." I gesture to the food on the table. "This makes my day a whole lot better. Thanks again, Monica." I say with a smile and reach for a packet of jelly and notice her still standing by my table. She bites her lip in thought.

  “I think we may have an old phone book in the back. I don't know if it's updated though. Do you want me to go check?” “Yes, please. That would be great.” I reply. “Alright. But only because you have such nice manners.” She smiles. “I'll be right back.” She walks past the two guys at the counter. They don't seem very pleased with me. I spread the jelly on my toast before looking up to see the first guy walking back to my booth. I don't have time for this. I just want to stuff my face right now. I feel like I haven't eaten for days. “Now, I thought we had an understanding.” He starts. “Then I see you getting all friendly. So what's going on with you and the waitress?”

  "I don't know. Was she asking about me?" "Okay, you know what, pal," he places his hand on my shoulder. "I tried to be nice." I turn my head up and look him in the eyes. "You need to stop grabbing my shoulder." He ignores my warning. "Look, you don't have a chance. My friend is a writer.. for the paper. Look at him. Do you think you really have a chance with her?" "A writer, huh. Maybe it was just me, but that last smile she gave me seemed a little coquettish. Would you go ask your friend what he thinks?" "Listen, you little-" "-Hey boys." Monica walks back with the phone book in her hand. Is everything all right over here?"

  The guy lifts his hand up and pats me on the shoulder. “Do you guys know each other?” She continues. “No, we just met. I thought he looked familiar so I came over to talk to him.” The first guy says. “Oh, I see.” She turns her attention back to me. He doesn't like that. “I found this for you. It was stored away like an old relic.” The guy looks at the book and scoffs. “Thank you,” I say to Monica. “Of course,” she smiles. “Well, I'll leave you two to get acquainted.” “Thanks,” the guy says.

  “Hey, Mon. Could you take a slice of Lemon Meringue over to George? He had a rough morning.” She smiles. “Sure thing, Lenny. No problem.” “What a good friend you are,” I say. “Too bad you don't treat all people near as nicely as you treat George.” As he turns his smiling face toward me, his expression drops into a glare. “You know what guy, you're being kind of a dick,” he tells me. “I just prefer to fight fire with fire,” I say. Now he's had enough. And so has George. George walks over. “You really have no idea who you're messing with, do you?” says George.

  "Sorry guys. I'm not from around here, but if I had to guess, I'd say that you guys are a couple of two-bit criminals associated with a high profile crime family." Two of the other patrons stifle their gasps, shocked at my comment. The third patron (an older gentleman) stifles a chuckle. The two bits get angry. "Something funny to you old man?" George starts walking toward him. "Hey, Pulitzer, I'm the guy you want." George looks at me. He looks at Lenny and nods. "All right. Hero boy. Let's go outside." Lenny says as he tugs at the collar of my shirt or rather the collar of my imitation shirt. It won't hold up as well as a real shirt, so I stand up as he pulls on it. "Come on," he says.

  This is now the second time I've been manhandled by the collar today. It's starting to get old. "Lenny, what are you doing?" asks Monica. "Boys, just leave him alone," she says as she takes a step forward. "Nah, I'm handling this clown, Mon." I look down at my collar and back up at Lenny. "You know, I already had one guy do this to me today," I say. "Yeah? Why am I not surprised?" he replies. "What did he look like? I should find him and tell him, he did a poor job of teaching you a lesson."

  Before I can respond, the door to the diner opens and in walks the big bodyguard. "He actually happens to look exactly like that guy," I say as we both watch the big bodyguard barrel toward us. He doesn't look happy. I turn and smile at Lenny. "So, it looks like you'll get your chance." He doesn't let go of my collar. He stares at the big bodyguard in an attempt to stand his ground. He points his finger out. "Look, Pal. You had your turn, and you failed."

  He's not budging. Neither is the big, bad bodyguard. Bad move, Lenny. The big bad bodyguard is only a little bit bigger than Lenny, but he carries himself as a more formidable force. I shove Lenny toward the counter just before the big bodyguard's massive fist comes hurling in. I catch it and redirect his energy, throwing him toward the restroom door. "You have got to stop letting me do that. I mean, when will you learn?" Now he looks very irate. I should probably learn how not to do things that make him more upset. Lenny isn't giving up either. He takes a wide swing at me with his fist.

  I block it with my left. "Really? We can't team up against this guy right now and settle our feud later?" I ask. He throws another swing, so I block that one and follow up with a left to the stomach. I finish with a hook to his face. I clip him r
ight in the jaw, and he is out cold. I catch his body and ease it to the ground just in time to see the big bodyguard's knee coming at my face. I knock it down with both hands and come back with a left jab followed by a right cross, both to his head. He stumbles backward, disoriented. I grab a coffee mug from the counter and smash it over his skull.

  He charges toward me and grabs one of the stools. I back away quickly but he's faster than I anticipated. The top of the stool makes contact with my back, and my chest makes contact with the counter. I feel the wind get knocked out of me twice within the same second. I see so many black and purple spots as I rapidly blink my eyes, in an attempt to keep them open. He picks me up by the collar once again. I know what's coming and I'd rather not experience it, so I ignite my entire body in searing hot flame. Instantly, he let's go, screaming in pain.

  I start pushing him back with hit after hit. He reaches the wall near the restroom and eyes the fire extinguisher. He picks it up and swings it at me. I duck just in time, but he turns it around and sprays me down. Foam surrounds me. He lifts the extinguisher above his head like an ax and swings it down. I slip to the side in an attempt to avoid it, but he adjusts into a diagonal swing and hits me between my neck and shoulder. The feeling of passing out nears toward me again. I can't let this go on any longer.