by Bryan Cohen
As Dhiraj opened the basement door into the first floor hallway, he nearly ran right into Mrs. Finley.
"Dhiraj!" She put one hand to her chest and kept the other on a pan of cooling cookies. "You're too sneaky sometimes."
He bowed low. "Mrs. Finley, you look absolutely radiant today."
While Dhiraj knew his way around a compliment, he meant this one. Ted's mother had put on quite a face for the cameras. He wondered how many interviews she'd already given.
"Oh, Dhiraj." She blushed. "Ted could learn a thing or two from you about flirting. Did you hear about Natalie?"
He nodded. "It's a damn shame."
"I was always worried she'd just beat him up one day. I suppose words hurt more than fists. Ted's in his room, by the way."
"Thanks Mrs. F. Mind if I…."
Mrs. Finley presented the tray and Dhiraj helped himself to one of the cookies. He tipped an imaginary cap to Ted's mom and did his usual prance up the stairs. Dhiraj knocked on Ted's door with an elaborate series of thrums.
"I don't want any," a muffled voice said from inside the room.
"But sir, you don't even know what I'm selling."
"You're always selling something."
Dhiraj opened the door to see Ted lying face down on his pillow. Ted's room rivaled the basement for its lack of organization. Next to the door, there was a cabinet half-filled with books. The other half was stuffed with homework, tests, and report cards dating back to kindergarten. Between Dhiraj and the bed were two piles of clothes, one presumably dirty and the other clean, though it was impossible to tell which was which at first glance. He stepped over the mounds to sit beside the new superhero.
"With the sound you were making, I thought you might be trying on a new superhero mask." Dhiraj winked. "Here’s a good hero name: the Luchador Lothario."
Ted groaned and rolled over. He had ice packs wrapped around his arms, but otherwise he seemed to be in one piece.
Dhiraj cleared his throat. "You know, you could've given me some lead time on this. If I didn't already own TedFinley.com, this could've been a disaster."
"If whatever gave me this–" Ted waved his hand and somehow yanked the half-finished cookie out of Dhiraj’s hand and into his own from afar "–had given me some lead time, I would have gladly told you about it."
The display of power blew Dhiraj's mind. He tried to speak for a moment, but no sound came out.
Seeing is believing.
Ted munched on the stolen cookie. "You alright?"
Dhiraj stood up and began to pace. "Tell me everything!" He locked his hands together. "Do you have supersonic hearing? The ability to change into different forms of water? You have x-ray vision, right? Please tell me you have x-ray vision."
Ted rolled over and groaned, burying his face back into the pillow.
"If you don't tell me, I'll just make something up in your unauthorized biography I'm having commissioned." Dhiraj licked his lips. "Can you believe it, a ghostwriter without any upfront costs? We still keep foreign translation rights."
Ted came back up for air. "You need to slow things down, Dhiraj. I’m having a little trouble processing the absolute insanity of my life right now."
Dhiraj plopped back down on the mattress. "Talk to me."
He listened as Ted related the entire tale, from the Natalie breakup and the blue energy pulse to the 9-1-1 calls and the ride home from Sandra. As he listened, Dhiraj made some mental notes of ways he could beef up the story for the ghostwriter. He wondered how much he should charge for the first book. He knew self-publishing was all the rage – would that be the best route?
"So this bad guy–"
"Nigel. At least that’s what the news is calling him."
"Nigel. He could stop your powers cold?"
Ted nodded.
Dhiraj’s eyes widened. "You've been a hero for five seconds and you already have a nemesis?"
"Just my luck, right?"
"This is going to be great for the screenplay. Superhero movies make more at the box office when they have a believable bad guy."
Ted sat up and put his hands over his face. "She broke up with me, Dhiraj."
Dhiraj knew it was just like Ted to be on the cusp of greatness and spend time thinking about heartbreak.
He gave his friend a reassuring slap on the back. "I'm sorry, Ted."
"Yeah. And now all of this. I'm a little overwhelmed."
Dhiraj looked out the window. Even more news vans had pulled up, with each of them waiting to get a quote from the man of the hour. He could imagine the networks pulling every bit of information they could to stretch out the 24-hour coverage. He was sure they'd have Ted's babysitter or little league coach giving an interview in no time.
"You're the right man for the job."
Ted lifted one hand off his face. "What do you mean?"
"Let's think of it this way." Dhiraj let the gears turn in his mind. "If some jerk got superpowers, he would let them go to his head. You're the nicest person I know. To a fault. You have a 90% chance of not turning into a douchebag supervillain."
Ted laughed. He pulled the pillow into his lap, letting his arms and ice packs rest on it. "Thanks, buddy."
"Don't mention it."
Dhiraj stood up and drew the blinds. "You know, the story of your diner heroism wasn't the only news in town today."
"Oh yeah?"
Dhiraj couldn't wait for his friend's reaction on this one.
"There's a rumor flying around that someone's former BFF and massive crush was seen going into her house."
Ted looked confused at first, but the realization eventually hit. His eyes stretched to their limit.
"Erica LaPlante is alive?!"
9
Jennifer Norris had flipped through her fifth grade yearbook enough times to know the page by heart. As she sat on her bed with a bag of ice wrapped around her knee, she studied the perfect picture: just her and Erica smiling with pure sugar-high joy.
Her heart fluttered. "I know you’re still out there. And I won’t stop until we get another picture together."
She blamed herself for Erica's disappearance. As the wet blanket of their group of friends, it was her responsibility to keep things from getting out of control. When Erica would suggest going skinny-dipping in a private pool, Jennifer would find a location that wasn't illegal. When Erica wanted to shoot off fireworks in the backyard, she would locate the only person in town who actually knew how to use them safely. She wondered if she had pushed too far by never letting her friend get quite what she wanted. In the months leading up to her disappearance, Erica had cut off almost all contact. Jennifer didn't even know the name of the guy Erica was seeing before she went missing.
She felt a pinch in her knee and pulled it toward her stomach in a stretch.
She'd gone knee-to-knee with team captain Natalie Dorn during a Saturday morning practice. The strongest girl in school looked down at Jennifer as if the injury was an inconvenience until she finally helped her off the field.
"You good?" Natalie looked off to the horizon.
"I should be asking you," Jennifer winced as she tried to get comfortable. "You're growling more than usual."
Natalie responded with a growl. "Boy troubles."
Jennifer heard the front door close. She unwrapped the bandage and took off the ice pack before hobbling off the bed and hopping into the hallway on her good leg. As she peered over the landing, she saw her father staring straight ahead in the foyer for a long moment before he took off his sheriff's hat.
"Hey, Dad, I'm up here."
Sheriff Norris took several seconds to look up. It was as if something delayed his brain from going at normal speed.
"Hey, honey. Can you come downstairs?"
Jennifer was happy to get out of her room for a little while. She'd been cooped up all day long. Her coach told her she wouldn't play in the game on Wednesday unless she took proper care of her injury, but she hoped a little break wouldn't cause much issue. She
gripped the banister going down and did her best pirate impression, hopping all the way into the kitchen.
"What's up, Dad?"
He slowly poured two glasses of milk. Every movement was lethargic, like gravity was twice as strong as normal for him.
"How's your knee?"
"Angry." Jennifer leaned toward him. "You seem serious and out of it."
"It was a weird day, Jen. At least as far as I can remember."
"Weird how?" A strange feeling brewed in her stomach.
He furrowed his brow. "I found Erica today."
Jennifer nearly knocked over her milk. The emotion came over her quickly with tears welling up immediately.
Her lungs could hardly keep up with her rapid breathing. "She was OK, right?"
"She’s alive and well."
Tears of joy trickled down her face. "That’s amazing, Dad! Where was she?"
"I’m not sure."
Jennifer squinted through the waterworks. "Okay. What did she say?"
"Like I said, it was a weird day." He smiled through the confusion. "But you’re welcome to call her to get the full scoop."
Jennifer ignored the pain in her knee, sprinting upstairs until she had the phone in her hands. She’d dialed the number dozens of times in the past month. Sometimes hearing Erica’s voicemail message was the only thing that put her to sleep.
When she finally got through to her friend, the first thing she did was scream. "You’re not dead!"
Erica laughed. "Apparently not. It's a good thing your dad found me."
Jennifer’s tears slowed to a trickle. "I’m pissed at you. You drove me insane and gave me wrinkles."
There was a pause on the other line. "I'm sorry."
It took Jennifer a moment to notice that her mouth was hanging open. She didn't know the word "sorry" was even in Erica's vocabulary. Something had changed. She hoped whatever it was would keep her friend from leaving town ever again.
"I – I accept." Her breath caught. "Are you going to tell me where you were and why you didn’t let anybody know?"
"I need some time, Jen. But I’ll explain things soon enough."
Jennifer’s heart hurt. "Alright. Whatever you need."
"I’ve gotta go, but I’ll see you in school tomorrow."
"Cool." She sniffled. "You know I love you, right?"
"I love you too."
When the conversation ended, Jennifer stared at the wall for several minutes straight. As she came back to reality, she realized the yearbook remained open to the same fifth grade photo she’d been studying. Jennifer breathed deeply to rid herself of the rest of the tears.
"She’s still in trouble or else she’d tell me everything." Jennifer looked out the door. "And my dad knows something about it."
She wasn’t sure how the puzzle fit together, but she hoped that whatever Erica was going through wouldn’t take her away all over again.
10
Stucky felt like everything was happening too fast. The only thing he remembered after being propelled through the air and landing on the car was getting taken out of an ambulance. There were multiple doctors and nurses around him shouting things he couldn't hear. He wondered if he'd gone deaf, or if he was about to meet his maker. He glanced down at his body, and while he could see at least one external wound across his abdomen, he knew the damage was mostly on the inside. As he was transferred from a body board to a rolling medical bed, a burst of pain radiated through his chest, causing his eyes to water. He watched his view change from the ceiling of the ambulance, to partly cloudy sky, to hospital fluorescent lights.
Stucky's mind shifted back to when Nigel returned from the dead. After the faceless man disappeared, the bullets fell from the Brit’s abdomen and rolled across the floor. When his eyes opened up, the first thing he did was grin. Stucky had seen Nigel smile before, but it was never like this. He looked more like a devil than a friend.
"Hello, everyone."
Yarrick and Carter dropped their guns and backed away from their newly living friend. Stucky stood still, and Tank was the only one who approached.
"We didn't know what that guy was doing." Tank offered a hand. "He made me stab you."
Nigel took off his bloodstained jacket and t-shirt. Stucky noticed that the Brit’s upper torso didn't even have a bullet wound on it.
"I didn't feel a thing. Nigel, on the other hand, was in great pain."
Stucky and his brother shared a glance.
"But aren't you Nigel?"
The Brit laughed as he stretched his arms up into the air. When the resurrected man walked toward Stucky, he couldn't help but back away.
Nigel laughed. "I am and I'm not."
He moved toward the wall of their cavernous hideout, reached toward the stone wall, and tore off a chunk of rock the size of a basketball. He then smashed his hands together with a grunt and turned the stone into pebbles.
"I've inherited a few extra abilities."
Stucky pictured Nigel using his special skills on the four of them. Yarrick and Carter were probably doing the same, judging by the way they kept glancing over to the room's exit.
"What happened to you?" Tank narrowed his eyes. "One minute you're on the floor. The next you're making everybody wet their pants."
Yarrick snorted. "My pants are dry."
"Mine too." Carter kept his hand firmly on his weapon. "If you aren't Nigel, then what do we call you?"
"Call me Nigel, it's too confusing otherwise. That'll be our rule when all of you cross over."
"You mean, we all have to die and come back like you did?" Stucky asked.
Nigel rubbed the symbol on his arm. He looked around as if the world was all new. As if it was his.
"In due time, my friend." Nigel paced around the room. "The last few years we've done OK for ourselves. We've gotten some big scores and some heavy losses. If you agree to follow me today, the five of us will never lose again. While money is temporary, power makes us strong. And freedom. Freedom will give us purpose."
Stucky wasn't sure what Nigel meant, but the rest of the group looked convinced. They were focused on following their leader.
"What kind of purpose, Nigel?" Tank’s smile set Stucky’s nerves on edge.
Nigel picked up the sword the faceless man had left behind. "We're going to start the world over again."
As they walked to their apartment, Tank looked giddy. "Did you see him crush that rock? Do you know what we could do with that kind of power?"
"So, you want to be like him?"
Tank laughed. "Being me only gets me so far."
Stucky gnawed at a hangnail. "You really want to erase everything you are, just so you can crush a rock?"
"Crush a rock. Crush a skull. And make my skin resistant to bullets. What's the downside again?"
"I'm just not sure if we can trust him. Nigel isn't even human anymore."
"That's right." Tank beamed. "He's a god."
The next day, Nigel explained that in death, the symbol allowed something else to cross over into their bodies. When he asked for a volunteer, Tank stepped forward before Stucky could stop him.
"Only a death by human hands will let the soul cross over into your body." Nigel stared through all of them as he spoke. "Are you prepared to die?"
"I'm in, man. Do what you have to do… Stucky?"
Stucky froze in place. Tank handed him a gun, but his brother wouldn't take it.
He shook his head. "I haven't killed a man yet. I don't intend to start with my brother."
Nigel rolled his eyes. Tank stuffed the gun into his back pocket.
"Fine. I'll get Yarrick to do it. But I'm gonna be mad at you when I come back to life."
The glow of the hospital fluorescents brought Stucky back to the present. The people around him felt farther and farther away. He pulled off his oxygen mask.
"You've got to keep me alive." Stucky shook as he spoke.
"Sir, please keep your mask on."
He stole a glance at his tattoo. "
I'll come back a monster."
The nurse pulled back Stucky's hands with ease and made sure the mask stayed firmly on his face. He started to breathe faster as he watched the overhead lights stream by. The bed passed through door after door until it stopped in a blue room. The doctors lifted him onto another bed. The sharp pain nearly made him lose consciousness.
After Yarrick choked Stucky's brother to death, nothing happened for a few moments. Stucky wanted to reach for Tank and cry over his body.
This is all my fault.
Less than a minute later, a familiar blue light shot into Tank's body. The newly-etched symbol glowed and Tank began breathing once again. Stucky did everything he could to hide the tears. He expected Tank to act like his favorite team had just won the pennant, jumping up and down and making the world know just how happy he was. That was how his real brother would react. Instead, Tank was calm when he stood up, and he took Nigel's hand in his own. They embraced like kin, and Stucky now realized the only family that he had was gone.
"Sir, your injuries are life threatening," A doctor flipped through a chart beside his bed. "We're going to do everything we can to save you."
Stucky hadn't realized it, but he was pleading with the doctors to save him. He must have begged 50 times in the last few minutes alone.
"I'm not a good man, but I'm no murderer." Stucky's eyes darted around the room, but everything was too blurry to focus.
"We're going to give you something to help with the pain."
The doctor placed a different mask on his face.
Stucky felt lighter. "I don't want to die."
"Now count down from ten. 10, 9, 8…"
He attempted to plead one last time, but the darkness took hold as he passed out.
11
Ted woke up to the sound of a news van backing up in his driveway. Most of the reporters and cameramen had left overnight, but they were shuffling back in before he went to school. Perhaps they were trying to get a quote before he attempted his return to a normal life at school. As he fought to comb his hair in the proper direction, he knew the number one question he’d get from reporters and classmates alike.