Superheroes in Prose: The 1-4 Collection

by Paris, Sevan

  “Why? What can you do?”

  “Most likely? Absolutely nothing. But at least I’ll know I’m about to get killed.”

  “Fair enough.” I pause for a moment, trying to think of the best way to bring up what is on my mind. After deciding there’s no way to say it that isn’t rough around the edges, I cut right to the chase: “Why are you here?”

  “You made it quite clear that neither of us had a choice.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  He nods. “You mean why did I believe you’d turn us in? Doing something so unlike you?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “You remember those numbers on the board in my office?”

  “You mean the Egyptian ones?”

  “They weren’t Egyptian, they were about Egypt. And they weren’t all about Egypt. Some were about you. I’ve been studying the Super dominos for years. And, although the variables are slightly different, the answer is always the same: Unregisters will revolt, initiating one of two absolute states: anarchy or control. There’s only one formula that keeps everything from tipping one way or the other—the one that includes you.”

  “It can’t be just me. There are other Superheroes. Ones that are just as good—”

  “Seriously?! I reduce myself to a cliché metaphor and you still don’t get it? Listen: Social norms, human nature, American nature, world nature—they’re all at odds with the current state. You’re the one lynch pin that could smooth the transition for a … Liberty-less world.”

  “But there HAS to be others. Others like me who can fight.”

  “But none who will fight. You’ve come further in eight months than anybody else has in sixty years. Statistically, that makes you the best chance—maybe the only chance—we have. And I’m not going to let you just die in there if there is something I could do to prevent it. The world is better off with you in it—and that includes me. And Pink.”

  “Why not tell Pink all of this back at your place? Would have been easier to convince her to help.”

  “No it would have been harder. But it would have been easier for your conscience. You can’t make decisions this big that affect this many people without stepping on a few necks. Which brings us to the far more riveting question that you should be asking.”

  “Which is?”

  “If you believed you’d turn us in.”

  My mouth tries to a form a word or two, but my brain won’t feed it any.

  “Ready,” Pink says, stepping between us. I try to keep my eyes away from the v-line that plunges toward Weather Witch’s belly button, exposing the inside curves of two awesomely full breasts.

  “And just think,” Casa says, looking over her shoulder at me. “You could have touched one.”

  I clear my throat. “Are we all good here, at least enough to get through this?”

  Casa puts a headset in his own ear. “I don’t know, are we?”

  Pink looks at Weather Witch’s veil and tosses it to the ground. “Just—what’s the next part of the plan?”

  “The next part is you and Gabe go to the east landing platform of The Bend. Gabe pretends to be you, offering the pair of bad guys up as a two-for.”

  “Then?” I say.

  “Then you contact me.”

  ***

  “COULDN’T YOU HAVE WAITED UNTIL WE WERE AT THE BEND TO START THE THUNDERSTORM?!” I say to Pink as I fly through the night sky, thunder rumbling around us.

  She shifts her weight in my arms, trying to find a more comfortable position. “DON’T BLAME ME—WHEN THIS BODY GETS PISSED, SO DOES THE WEATHER!”

  Lightning splits the darkness, flinching me closer to the treetops.

  She laughs and the howling wind gets less howl-y. “Easy, hero. It can’t hurt us if we’re flying.”

  …. Gabe, under no circumstances are you to take lessons in experimental physics from that wretched apparition.

  “Calm it down anyway. I’ve been hit by lightning before. And it sucked. Ass.”

  Pink frowns with one side of Weather Witch’s mouth and reaches out with her right hand. Her fingertips glow yellow and the thunder slows to a low grumble. Still, the inky clouds rolling in opposite directions around us make me wonder just how much of a handle Pink has on Weather Witch’s powers.

  The Bend comes into view over the next hilltop. The penitentiary sits on a section of land right at the Prose ‘bend’ of the Tennessee River. Fluffy pine trees bow back and forth on the outer sides of the five story U-shaped building, dotted by moving searchlights.

  I fly toward the landing pad on the east wing. Five huge, Gears of War looking guys gather on the pad when they see me approach, readying three foot rifles that look hardcore enough to take out a tank. Pink closes Weather Witch’s glowing eyes and goes limp in my arms.

  I land and the guards cover me with glowing red dots.

  Showtime.

  “Hey, like, easy, guys,” I say. “It’s me.”

  The dots meander over my vital organs. “PASSWORD!” The guard closest to me says, tightening his grip on the gun. Lightning cracks above our heads and rain pit-pats at our feet.

  I resist the urge to sigh. “Dingledork.”

  They relax somewhat, but don’t lower their weapons.

  I gently place Pink on the ground.

  “Is that Weather Witch?” The lead guard says and steps closer.

  I put my hands on my hips. “In the total flesh.”

  By The Void, Gabe, thrust your hip out. I know you lack confidence in spades, but you darn well better at least ACT like you have confidence. I’m getting massive energy readings from those weapons; we won’t be able to last long if this comes to a fight.

  I thrust my hip out. “So to speak of course … or whatever …”

  Too much …

  The guard’s eyes narrow. “Are you—why aren’t your eyes pink?”

  “Because … they’re not?”

  A wave of panic rushes through me.

  Weather Witch’s pink eyes open. “Well that didn’t take long.”

  In Gabe’s defense, it took longer than I thought.

  Guards look at us through the sheets of rain, raising rifles to shoulders. Pink rolls forward into a crouch and Weather Witch’s entire body glows yellow. I take to the air, thunder booming around us.

  Lightning crackles across the platform, climbing the legs of Weather Witch and the guards. Lightbulbs explode around the pad. The guards scream.

  “Pink, stop!” I say.

  Actually, I’m sensing that their armor is absorbing the brunt of the damage. We need to do something fast before they become aware of it as well.

  I usually hold back when fighting Norms. I hate hurting them. Definitely don’t want to kill them. But they could sound an alarm. I don’t have time for easy-ville.

  I raise my arms wide, queuing M to grab the guards in a Grav Beam. All of them hover one foot above the concrete, legs kicking air. Two of them fire wide, sending red energy beams through the thunderclouds and into the night sky.

  I slap my palms together.

  The guards slap together.

  Their screams seem louder than the thunder, but my guilt may be cranking it up a few notches … these aren’t bad people, just regular dudes trying to make a living.

  And I’m hurting them.

  Through the big ball of limbs sticking out at awkward angles, a few arms and legs move. One hand slowly points a rifle at me. I open my arms, spreading the guards with the Grav Beam—and then slam them together again … and again.

  None of them stir after the third time.

  “Did that do it?” I say.

  They’re out like the proverbial lights around them.

  Pink looks in amazement from the guards to me. “If by ‘do it,’ you mean, give them all concussions, then yeah, hero, that totally did it.”

  “If their armor didn’t protect them from that lightning, the concussions wouldn’t rank high on the worry list.”

  “Hey, I’m just the blackmailed
—if you have a better way to do things, speak up.”

  They’re unconscious, but alive, Gabe. And it had to be done.

  Somehow M comforting me makes me even less comfortable.

  “Let’s just get this over with.” I cross the pad to the elevator leading into The Bend. It doesn’t have power, either because of an alarm or the lightning. Still I try the buttons anyway.

  You do know the purpose of electricity, right?

  “Casa, you there?,” I say. “The guards are down.”

  “Down?” Casa’s voice comes back through the headset. “I never told you to ‘down’ them.”

  “I improvised.”

  A silence passes and I think I hear Casa sigh on the other end. “You’ll have to hurry—”

  “Pink took out the electrical stuff up here. We don’t have to worry about cameras.”

  “Well, unless you somehow took out their ear ‘stuff,’ they’ll know you’re coming. Take the elevator shaft to Prisoner Processing; it’s the floor directly below you. There you’ll find the two telepaths and four guards protecting a brain floating in a tank.”

  “ …. Can you repeat that last part again?”

  “How about I repeat the part about hurrying?”

  I slam open the elevator doors with a Grav Blast, exposing an empty shaft with flickering lights. “Casa says we need to go to the next floor and take out the telepaths and guards that are protecting a … a—”

  “Brain tank?” Pink wraps Weather Witch’s arms around my neck.

  I pull her weight to me and hover us into the shaft. “Why am I the only one weirded out by this?”

  “I would explain it to you, but I’m afraid it’ll get back to Liberty.”

  I stop. “Pick a side—right now. Me or them.”

  She meets my gaze as the rain tick-tacks against the outside of the shaft. “What?”

  “You’re bitter. I get it. You don’t want to be here. I get that. But I already have to put up with more than my fair share of things-that-hate-Galaxy and guess what: I’m not putting up with you too. You have a body, and you know what we’re trying to do. Go to Processing and warn them if you want. Hell, go to Liberty and warn him if you want. That might be enough to put you in the clear. But if you stay with me—regardless of your reasons—you’re going to stop this passive aggressive bullshit. Cause I’m tired, Pink, and I’ve got too much on the line to let you distract me. So what’s it going to be? Me? Or them?”

  She looks away. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

  “Swell. Start freaking acting like it.”

  Casa doesn’t offer up any snide comments. Neither does M. I guess they got the point too. I point my fist at the doors at the next level; M makes the fist glow blue as he readies a Grav Blast.

  The blast explodes the doors inward and we make with the haste into Prisoner Processing.

  I sling Pink behind an empty desk to my right, sending her into a lightning infused slide across the tile. I fly above the desk with a Grav Blast ready in each hand. A twin pair of bald dudes wearing black trench coats look at us with indifferent faces. Five technicians look at us with scared faces. Four guards look at us with game faces.

  And then there is the Brain.

  It floats in a large tank of bubbling green water with two freaky ass eyeballs bobbing at the water’s surface. A mess of thick wires hooked into the back of the Brain lead out the top of the tank and into rows of computers covering the rear of the room.

  Gabe, I’m sensing that the follicular challenged over there are the telepaths.

  The guards raise their guns. The telepaths raise their hands.

  I raise hell.

  A quick Grav Blast takes the front guard down. The others’ energy weapons miss by inches, vaporizing basketball sized chunks of the concrete wall behind me. I make a shoving motion with both hands, sending a wide Grav Blast throughout the room, slamming three of them into the computers.

  The twins narrow their eyes in perfect unison. I Grav Blast them against the ceiling, knocking them out. Pink appears next to me, having just taken out the rest of the guards. We free Deathbot, he helps us take down Liberty, Reagan comes back from Florida I find a way to get M out of my body he leaves Earth never to be seen again Reagan and I get married Mom is at the wedding Bo wears a tuxedo top and shorts and the ceremony I knew I should have let him be my best man I’ve just bought a nice house outside of the city but close enough to be there in fifteen minutes—

  “GALAXY!” Pink yells way too close to my ear. “Snap out of it!”

  My eyes open (weird—I never closed them). I’m lying on the ground, staring up at one of the leather-clad twins who now has glowing pink eyes … and I’m powered down into regular Gabe Garrison “I … what?”

  I hate telepaths.

  “The Twins put a whammy on you.” She says with a squeaky voice, from inside one of the twins.

  I power back up. “How long was I out?”

  “Long enough for me to jump in Twin A and take out the others.”

  “Did they …”

  “No, I don’t think any of them saw your face.”

  I nod and lean against the wall. “Give … give me a minute. Feels like a just lived a lifetime.”

  Pink steps over to a computer console next to the Brain. “Your own utopia is the twins’ special. It’s easier to control you. What did you see?”

  “Don’t you think that’s kind of private?”

  I both witnessed and ruled over all that was, is, and will be. The universe truly existed in a state of absolute perfection …

  She shrugs with the twin’s shoulders. “And?”

  You were dead.

  “I’ve never heard of the twins before. Who are they?”

  “They just go by Twin or Twins,” Casa says over the headset. “They always know to whom you’re talking.”

  “What is …” Weather Witch says from the far side of the room. “Where am I?” She slowly stands with one hand on her forehead.

  “Hi,” I say. “Listen, I can explain, just don’t—”

  “YOU!” She raises a hand, sparking with electricity.

  “Uh-uh,” Pink says, flipping a few buttons on the console. The room fills with a red light and the Brain Tank bubbles louder.

  Weather Witch throws the lightning at me, like a baseball, but it fizzles into nothing right after leaving her hand. She looks at her fingers, then at me. “What have you done to me?!”

  I shrug.

  “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME?!” She runs to me, hands held out like claws.

  “Sleep,” Pink says patiently with the Twin’s mouth.

  Weather Witch’s eyes roll back in her head, and she rag-dolls into my arms. The bubbling in the Brain Tank slows.

  I ease Weather Witch to the floor. “What is that thing?”

  Pink flips a few switches. “You ever hear of Leech?”

  “Yeah, from back in the 70’s. Had the power to take other Super’s powers.”

  “He was the last Super that posed a threat to the big guy. He and Liberty were about to do the whole toe-to-toe thing, but the World’s Greatest realized he couldn’t win, so he hauled tail. Leech saw Liberty run, got cocky and let his guard down.”

  “But Liberty didn’t run …”

  “Oh, he ran, but it was all full circle-y. Liberty made a lap around the world and ripped off Leech’s head on the return trip. Later, some Doctor Frankenstein types put this freak show together.”

  The eyeballs in the tank slowly bob in my direction. “But this Leech dude’s Brain is still alive? Like one of those jar things from Futurama?”

  “He isn’t alive in the strictest sense,” Casa says. I turn the headset on speaker. “The liquid in the tank serves as an artificial nervous system, and the rest of the equipment gives the technicians complete control over his power. When they activate the system, anybody on the far side of that red line on the floor has their powers taken away and stored inside the Brain.”

  I check out the faded red
line in the middle of the room. I was just barely on the friendly side of it when Pink took Weather Witch’s powers away. “Pink, did you even check to see where I was when you turned that thing on?”

  “Relax, hero. I could have given you your powers back with a flip of a switch. You wouldn’t have had to be on this side of the line either. The powers are drawn back to you like a magnet, no matter where you are.”

  “Pink, check the prisoner database to find Deathbot’s location.”

  Pink pulls an unconscious guard off another computer and pulls up a name database.

  “I’ve been a Superhero for eight months, but I’ve been following other Superheroes since I was old enough to read. Why have I never heard about this?”

  “Hence the Twins,” Casa says. “They take away all memory of power removal, both from the minds of the prisoners and the guards after they punch their time card. What they put in its place is the idea of an impenetrable prison that can’t be broken into or out of. And so far it’s worked perfectly: This is the only Super-capable penitentiary with a perfect record.”

  “Everybody just buys this crap?”

  “You did.”

  He has a point, Gabe. Beings tend to pay little attention to the refuse as long as it isn’t underfoot.

  “Casa, this is a really elaborate setup. Couldn’t they just put everybody in a special cell?”

  “Customizing a cell for each prisoner takes too many resources. What would hold somebody with Superstrength isn’t going to do jack against a teleporter and vice-versa.”

  “Found Deathbot,” Pink says from behind me. “He’s in Isolation.”

  “Why doesn’t that surprise me? Which way?”

  She points to a closed metal door on the other side of the room. “There. You’ll pass General Population first. Everybody that the brain-suck here could neuter. Go through the large door on the bottom floor, and you’ll be in the Isolation Block.”

  “So what kind of prisoners could the Brain not be used on?”

  “Cyborgs, robots, aliens, demigods—”

  “DEMIgods?”

  “Vote’s still out, but we may have three Greek and two of the Viking ones.” Pink flips a switch and the door swings open, exposing a long grey tunnel. A heavy door on the other side looks gargantuan enough to stop a Mac truck doing fifty.