Superheroes in Prose: The 1-4 Collection

by Paris, Sevan

  M maybe right. If Reagan just parked, there’s no telling how much she saw. I zip up my backpack. “Say what?”

  She slowly joins me with a grin on the fifth step. “I said ‘hero,’ and I’ll say it again.”

  “Why—” I clear my throat, trying to get rid of the squeak that’s somehow worked its way into my esophagus. “Why am I a hero, Reagan? I mean exactly.”

  Reagan holds up a wad of papers. “Your notes saved me. I honestly had no idea what Dr. Murray was talking about the other day.”

  Neither did Gabe. Those are my notes.

  I take the notes and hurry down the stairs. “No problem. Definitely not something of hero proportions, but you’re welcome. So, you’re on your way down?”

  Reagan catches up. I catch a whiff of her strawberry shampoo. “Yeah ... wait. Why are you on your way up?”

  Here it comes.

  “No, I’m going down.”

  “But I just parked and I didn’t see you. Were you like hanging out in here or something?”

  Better think of something fast ...

  “I was ... I forgot something in my car.”

  “I didn’t see another car up here.”

  This woman has to die, Gabe.

  My right arm turns into a star field, telling me M is powering it up. I jerk my arm behind my back to hide it from Reagan and to make it more difficult for M to do anything to her. We only have two percent power left, but that’s more than enough for M to shoot a Non-Super like Reagan straight into orbit. There’s no way I can put enough distance between us in time.

  Reagan’s only hope is if I lie my way through this. “I, uh ... ” God, why am I so horrible at the secret identity lying thing? “I uh, parked on another thing, and walked too far back to my car, and ... ”

  I hear a few seconds of Bonnie Tyler’s I Need a Hero before I realize it’s coming from Reagan’s cell phone. She answers it before I can see the screen.

  “Hello? Hey, you!” She waves at me and hurries down the stairs.

  That woman has the attention span of a Terlaxion Spit Slug.

  M returns my hand to normal.

  I let Reagan gain a couple of flights on me. “You need to calm down,” I say barely above a whisper. “I’ve told you before, no killing.”

  I will kill if it’s the only way to preserve what’s left of my meager survival, Gabe. The only reason I agreed to play hero with you is because it was the easiest way to hide from the Council. If they find out I’ve bonded with you, they will—

  “What? Send an intergalactic bounty hunting Cyborg after me?”

  Oh, please. They didn’t send Deathbot. If they knew I was here, they would have reduced you to carbon by now. No, this is someone or something else.

  I’m halfway down the garage. Reagan’s laughter echoes through the fire escape. Wish I knew who she was talking to. “Yeah well, from what you told me about these Council guys, this seems just like something they would do.” I hold up my backpack for emphasis.

  And see a hole in the bottom.

  A hole that could only be caused by a severed Cyborg arm somehow ripping its way out.

  I frantically look around me. One flight down, I catch a glimpse of the arm skittering with it’s fingers behind Reagan, like something out of a horror movie.

  She never sees the thing go for her ankle.

  Chapter Two

  Reagan’s hand reaches for the handle on the exit door. She’s so wrapped up in her phone conversation, she doesn’t even see another hand—a Supervillain Cyborg hand—reaching for her.

  Thankfully, she doesn’t see me one hand the rail and change into Galaxy either.

  I fall two flights through the center of the stairway and my feet hit concrete without a sound. I grab the hand, jerk it behind my back, and change back to Gabe Garrison right before Reagan bounces the metal door off my forehead.

  “Oh, God, are you okay?” Reagan turns, but keeps the phone to her ear.

  I stand, keeping the arm behind my back. “Yeah, sorry. I just fell like a doofus, that’s all.”

  Doofus?

  “Well, I’m sorry ... I didn’t see you. Are you—are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Yeah. Totally, I’m fine.” Blood trickles down my forehead and Deathbot’s arm pulls at the back of my hoodie a little. I grin, knowing I look like an idiot, but I don’t know what else to do.

  “Okay, uh ... see ya.”

  “Bye.”

  See? I’m already thankful I didn’t kill her. Just imagine being denied this spectacular performance of your complete social ineptitude.

  The door closes behind Reagan and I look at the arm. “Why did it go after her? And how can it go after anybody?”

  The fingers make grabbing motions towards my face. I jerk it away. It’s wrapped in black metal and each fingertip ends in a small hook-shaped claw. Six arm bones stick out of the severed opening. Three blinking green lights wrap a purple leather so dark it looks black.

  I don’t know. Perhaps it wishes to use Reagan somehow to get at me.

  “Give me a break. Seriously?”

  I’m sorry. Did I injure your fragile ego? Very well. Perhaps the hand is using her to get to you.

  “Okay, first off: shut up. And second: you think this thing is still trying to do what Deathbot started?”

  Perhaps. But it’s just a theory. It will take me over an hour to analyze it properly. My right hand—the one that’s holding Deathbot’s hand—goes from flesh to star field as M powers it up. We should get started.

  “What? No, I have to get to class.”

  Well, what do you suggest we do with it in the meantime? Placing it within the steely confines of your backpack simply isn’t enough. And it’s not as if we can just leave it somewhere, now is it?

  The hand keeps reaching for my face. What looked so menacing earlier now looks pretty pathetic. “Let’s get rid of it.”

  Weren’t you listening? I just said—

  “No, I mean let’s just destroy it or whatever.”

  My hand powers down. I’m not destroying it until I find out where it came from and how it got here so quickly.

  “Fine. I’ll do it myself.”

  With Deathbot’s hand still twitching, I step in front of the brick wall, rare back ...

  I would strongly advise—

  ... and slam it into the wall. A green flash of light nearly blinds me and the hand bounces off the wall so hard I lose my grip.

  That you not do that, Gabe. I am detecting a kinetic force field.

  The hand skitters up three steps before I scoop it up. It starts reaching for my face again. “Kinetic?”

  Yes, it means—

  “Forget it. I’ve got to get to class.”

  Suggestions?

  I look at the twitching thing in my hand and sigh.

  ***

  “So, why are the mountains on Mars higher than those of Earth?” Dr. Murray says. He and the rest of the Astronomy 101 class look at me as I open the door.

  “Mr. Garrison isn’t it?”

  I hold onto Deathbot’s arm even tighter. My arm is elbow deep in my backpack, holding the twitching Deathbot hand. I’ve got the backpack zipped up as best I can to hide the contents. My forehead stopped bleeding, but I can feel dried blood every time I move my eyebrows.

  Basically, I look like a complete idiot.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Dr. Murry is in his late fifties. He has shoulder length grey hair and his face wears a constant state of stubble. He’s wearing a button up plaid shirt, khakis and white New Balances. He constantly shifts his unlit pipe from one side of his mouth to another.

  “You’re just in time to tell us why.”

  “To tell us why what?”

  “Why are the mountains on Mars higher than those of Earth?”

  “Why? I-I mean, why not? I mean, I’m sure I know the answer ... ”

  Oh no, Gabe. You’re not getting the answer out of me. In light of recent events, you shouldn’t be here. In fac
t, you shouldn’t be here at all. There’s nothing this meat bag can tell you that I don’t already know as evidenced by the notes I prepared for Reagan on your behalf.

  Dr. Murray has his back to Reagan. He doesn’t see her hold an apple up and drop it on her head.

  “Gravity. They’re higher because the gravity is lower.”

  Dr. Murray’s eyes flick back and forth. He usually does that after getting a student response. It’s kind of like he has to digest the answer or something.

  “Gravity, yes, good.”

  I slide between several desks and nearly trip over somebody’s backpack. I sit at an empty desk behind Reagan. Dr. Murray resumes his lecture and she turns, holding my notes.

  “Sorry,” she whispers. “I forgot to give these to you before.”

  I grab them with my left hand because my right one is stuffed in my backpack, powered up and analyzing an intergalactic severed arm of a Cyborg bounty hunter.

  “Thanks,” I whisper back. “How did you know the answer?”

  She grins and her eyes narrow. “You, doofus.”

  Dr. Murray paces while he lectures. He walks toward us and Reagan turns back. In my backpack, Deathbot’s hand reaches for Dr. Murray when he gets close. I roll my eyes.

  “Are you done?” I whisper after Dr. Murray walks away.

  Reagan turns. “Done with what?”

  “Giving me such a hard time, you ... crazy girl.”

  “Yeah ... I guess.”

  I hear M sigh inside my head. You should be forbidden to breed.

  I look at the window. I can see my reflection, which means M can see it too. I mouth “When?”

  Don’t do that. I’ve told you before it’s unsettling to see you as my reflection. And I told you earlier it would take me approximately an hour since you drained our power supply so foolishly low.

  An hour looking like this. Wonderful.

  ***

  “Are you done?”

  I told you it would be an hour. It’s been exactly fifty-nine minutes and forty-three seconds.

  I stop next to a row of garbage cans outside of Grota Hall. I nod at people for fifteen seconds.

  Done.

  There’s a small flash of blue light that comes out of my backpack followed by some smoke. I pulled the ruined hunk of metal out of the bag that use to be Deathbot’s right hand.

  “Finally.” I pitch it in the garbage.

  “Head’s up!” I hear from my right. I turn in time to see my best friend, Bo Dudley, run up and belly bump me. The impact sends me into the grass. My elbows hit the ground so hard I feel it in my teeth.

  Oh yay. It’s ‘best friend’ time.

  “Garrison, wassup?” Bo says a few octaves too high. It’s the way he does all of his greetings, belly bump included.

  But the belly bumps usually don’t send me to the ground.

  I lean up. I’m getting really tired of being knocked on my ass. “Jesus, Bo. Is that absolutely necessary?”

  “Sorry, dude. You should be quicker.”

  He sits beside me. Bo can be a complete asshole sometimes. The only reason he’s still my friend is because he doesn’t question the weird situations being a Superhero places on my secret identity.

  I grab my protein bar and open it. It’s broken in half.

  “I hear you can get a pill for that.”

  I bite off a rubbery piece of the bar, and it tastes like smoke. “Can I get a pill for you?”

  “Mom couldn’t stop me with a pill. You can’t either. You see that hottie looking at you?”

  It takes me a second to realize what Bo is saying. Then, I turn my head. Sure enough, there’s a girl with long blond hair about twenty feet away looking at me. She’s around my height, has nice curves, and is wearing a blue halter-top. I’m sure she’s wearing other clothing too, but the halter-top is so tight, it’s the only thing I notice. That, and the fact that she’s grinning.

  At me.

  Does that female think you’re someone else?

  “Amy Lansbury,” I say. “She’s in my psychology class.”

  “She can psychology me anytime. Why is she looking at you?”

  She wants his psychology notes most likely.

  I take another bite out of my protein bar. “Don’t know. Maybe she likes me?”

  Amy turns her head and says something to a girl next to her, but I can still see her sneak an occasional peak in my direction.

  “No, dude, this is an I like you look. Check this out right here:” Bo turns to me and gives me a small grin. “Now this is an I want to sex you in the craziest, quickest way look:” Bo’s smile gets bigger than the Cheshire cat and he turns his head, but keeps his eyes on me.

  “That looked nothing like the look she gave me.”

  It looked like that of a serial killer.

  “Whatev, dude. It was so the look. Just go talk to her. I’m telling you she wants some Gabe Garrison penne.”

  Don’t do it, Gabe. It’s just another woman I may have to kill. You don’t want that on your conscience.

  My heart skips a little beat and I feel my face get warm. It feels like a creature is trying to worm its way out of my stomach. It’s hard to know when M is kidding. Maybe I need to stay away from people like Reagan and Amy. Maybe I am just a danger to them. But what did it say that I really didn’t want to? Did it make me less of a hero?

  “Look, man, there’s no reason to be embarrassed. Just go over and talk to her.”

  Why does he think you’re embarrassed? Are your cheeks red again?

  I take another bite of my protein bar, even though I’m not hungry anymore.

  “Crap, never mind, she’s coming over here!” Bo nudges me in the ribs.

  I look up. Sure enough, here she comes. The wind moves her blond hair away from her shoulders and I feel like panicking when she walks up.

  I stand and dust off my jeans.

  “Hi, Gabe, how are you—“

  “Gabe!” Reagan comes out of nowhere and grabs my shoulder. “I’m in trouble.”

  Reagan steps in front of me, and I see Amy’s eyes narrow.

  Excellent. Now all we need is some mud and a pair of cheap bathing suits.

  “What-uh, what’s going on?”

  “We have a test tomorrow on those equations. The ones that were in your notes.”

  “Yeah, I think so.”

  “I don’t understand any of them.”

  What a surprise.

  “Shut up.”

  Reagan crinkles her face. “Huh?”

  “Shut up, you’re so smart, how could you not understand them?”

  “The book doesn’t go over them that well. And well, Dr. Murray, is just y’know, Dr. Murray. Do you understand them?”

  “Do we?”

  Of course we do.

  “Of course.”

  Reagan looks from me to Bo.

  Bo shrugs. “I don’t understand them, but I know lots about psychology. Tons even.” He jumps up and stands next to Amy.

  Reagan sees Amy and steps back. “Oh, hi.”

  Amy grins, but not that big.

  What the hell is going on here? I can understand Reagan’s attention. She wants notes. But what does Amy want? I shouldn’t be talking to her. I shouldn’t be talking to either one of them. I could just get them killed. I couldn’t live with getting anybody killed—not even Bo.

  Reagan touches my shoulder and I forget everything. I forget about my problems with the Cyborg, I forget about my problems trying to be a hero, and I forget about my decision earlier to stay away from her.

  “Would you mind going over them with me in the library tonight?”

  My cheeks get warm again. “Sure.”

  Her green eyes flick to my cheeks and she grins. “Cool.”

  I shrug. “Cool.”

  “I have to work late, so how ‘bout 10:00?”

  I shrug again. “Cool.”

  Her grin gets even wider. “Cool. See ya then.”

  She walks away and the world come
s back to me.

  “All I’m saying is I know this stuff, babe.” Bo says. He’s holding a psychology book firmly in front of him. “And if you need some help, all you gotta do is ask.”

  Amy snatches her psych book and leaves.

  “Well, that was awkward,” Bo says.

  ***

  I don’t know where Reagan works, but I hope her job is better than mine. I work in a place downtown called Rock Creek Books, which would be really cool if it wasn’t for the customers. Like tonight, I had this one lady that came in wanting to know where all of our books were on Indian tattoos. I told her I would check, and for some reason that just pissed her off.

  “How could you not know what’s in your own bookstore?” she said.

  “I, well we have a lot of books.”

  “Do you have a lot of problems? Because I’m about to give you a monster of a problem if you can’t find that book.”

  I looked in the computer and we didn’t have anything like what she was looking for. I told her. I can lift a bus with my powers, but for some reason this girl scared the living crap out of me.

  She couldn’t have been taller than five feet, but she both looked and felt like solid muscle. She shoved all the books off the counter, grabbed me by my apron and pulled me halfway across the desk. M chuckled in my head.

  She raised her fist and I flinched. The woman’s eyes glowed like fire embers ... I mean literally glowed. She was a Super.

  My mouth moved, but no sound came out. I wanted to ask her how she did it. How did she live with her powers day to day? Was she a hero? Was she registered? Was she a villain? Was I going to fight her later?

  Was I going to fight her now?

  Without another word, she let me fall to the floor and left. That’s just part of the everyday random weirdness that was Prose, Tennessee. Life was easier if you didn’t question it. So I never did ... until I became a Super. Then I was full of questions.

  I just didn’t have anybody to ask.

  But anyway, moments like this one made life worth it. I was about to see Reagan again. And it would just be me and her. I grin like an idiot as the elevator puts me on the third floor of the UTP library.

  The third floor is the fiction section. Like most of the other levels, it’s mostly deserted at night, except for the occasional student sleeping in an over stuffed chair.