Superheroes in Prose Volume Seven: I, Galaxy

by Sevan Paris

  Which is precisely what I’m trying to do …

  “What?”

  This!

  “Wha!”A tingling sensation danced against my skin, followed by a sudden blackness that shrouded my entire body. Stars appeared—not across the blackness—but inside it. I held up my arm, recognizing a constellation. “Is that … is that the big dipper?”

  THAT is home to the Danine Consurtium, one of the most technologically dangerous species in all of existence. Not a utensil used for ladling soup.

  “Whatever.” My eyes glowed in the reflection of my house’s front window. Petey barked at me and pawed at the glass from the other side. “This is awesome! “How—how is this working?”

  I used Ramma Radiation to open a portal to The Void, giving us better access to powers.

  “This Ramma stuff … it have any side-effects? Am I gonna give somebody cancer or something?”

  It could present a sudden danger under a number of specific circumstances. None of which could occur here, with such a limited species.

  “You’re the one that needs this limited species to survive.” I look back up at the cat. “What’s that say about you?”

  M sighed. At any rate, this state has two side-effects. The first: reality—at least the way you understand it—cannot be perceived in the area you occupy. Generally, others will simply look through your silhouette, into the vacuum of space. The more power we exert, the farther this effect extends. The second, and far more fortunate, side-effect …

  “I now have a way to conceal my identity.”

  Exactly. Although, feel free to use your mother’s pea coat if you prefer.

  I moved in a slow circle, watching the stars change in my right hand. The edge of something white appeared in the tip of my index finger; I raised my hand, and the entire Moon appeared within my palm. “Holy crap …”

  What—why would you say that?

  “Can we do anything besides controlling gravity?”

  Not control—manipulate.

  “Can we do anything besides manipulate gravity?”

  Fluffy cried another meow.

  Raise your right hand. I’ll show you.

  I raised my hand, and a perfectly round blue sphere of energy surrounded it. With a sharp whine, it leapt from my fingertips and hit the branch above a wide-eyed Fluffy. After a racket of groans and snaps, three feet of the treetop landed in my driveway, scattering leaves everywhere.

  Fluffy meowed even louder. Somewhere down the street, a dog barked.

  “What the hell?” I looked from my hand to the tree. “Why did you do that?”

  You asked me what else we could do. I merely showed you. Additionally, I can access The Void to sense a great number of—

  “You almost killed Mrs. Tonkleson’s cat!”

  Two birds. One stone.

  “Can we just get this done? Without any cat killing?”

  Oh, very well. Lift your hand again.

  I didn’t move.

  I promise I won’t kill the wretched beast, M said with an annoyed tone.

  I pointed my palm at the cat. Light blue energy slowly reached out, encircling Fluffy. The tabby inched back, then turned to run before shinning off the branch entirely. Instead of falling, Fluffy merely bobbed up and down in the Grav Beam. It hissed at me with an arched back.

  Ingrate.

  “Can you just lower him? Gently?”

  Of course. M’s Grav Beam slowly brought the cat to us. Fluffy seemed to arch his back even higher and turned his ears back. Now can you explain this use of ‘crap’ from earlier.

  “What?”

  You said ‘holy crap.’ This is the same word commonly used when referring to feces, yes?

  “Yeah …”

  But you also use it to express … what? Disbelief?

  “Well, yeah. Among other things.”

  Such as?

  “Uh, annoyance, joy, anger. Anything really.”

  Your language is an absolute farce, you know that?

  The Grav Beam bobbed a little and the cat growled.

  “Focus please? I don’t want to turn this cat inside out or something.”

  Relax, Gabriel.

  “Gabe. My name is Gabe.”

  One simply has to do the math—Gabe. And since my math is impeccable, it’s impossible for me to make a mistake and—

  With an ear piercing shriek, Fluffy shot straight up into the clouds.

  Although, sometimes I do tend to round up when I admittedly shouldn’t.

  “M!” I looked into the sky. “What—how, what do we do?”

  Oh, will you calm down? There’s plenty of time to catch the flea bag on his return from low orbit.

  “Low orbit?!”

  Is there an echo in here?

  “You sent him into space? How is he going to breathe?”

  The surrounding field will allow him to survive. Provided you reach him in time.

  “How?”

  How do you think? You fly.

  “You never said anything about being able to do that.”

  What part of ‘manipulate gravity’ do you not understand?

  “What are you talking abou …” I trailed off, realizing that I was eye level with the middle of Fluffy’s tree. I looked down and saw that my legs were ten feet off the ground. At that point, I did what I would like to think any self-respecting eighteen year-old guy would do.

  And yelled like a girl.

  I grabbed the top most branch. It snapped loose and bounced twice off the ground. I spun far away from the tree, legs kicking at the air. “Stop! Slow down—do something!”

  I may control the majority of the powers, Gabe, but movement is all you. I can no more control the direction of our flight than I can the direction you walk.

  Within moments, the clouds suddenly spun closer. The cars, houses, and everything else on the ground looked like a massive board game that I could go splat on at any time. “HOW—HOW DO I CONTROL IT?!”

  It’s instinctive, just like moving your legs.

  I flipped end over end, faster and faster. “I can’t!”

  No, you can—you’re just not. Don’t think about it. Simply do it.

  And just like that—with those three simple words—M told me exactly what my brain needed to hear. I went from spinning like a top to a gradual wobble, then completely still. After slowly uncoiling from a fetal position, I lowered my forearms from my eyes … and saw pure awesome.

  The sun waned behind the mountains overlooking Prose, reflecting its orange glow off the clouds around me. The winking lights of the city peeped through the slowly moving wisps of clouds under my feet. They clumped and gradually joined the layer of clouds over my head.

  Gabe, if you’re finished marveling at this mediocrity, I suggest you turn your attention up, to the reason we’re here.

  “Huh?”

  A screaming tabby plummeted through the clouds beside me.

  Or down …

  Instinctively, I dove through the clouds. Within moments, I caught up with the cat. I reached out, palm open, queueing M for a Grav Beam. Fluffy promptly floated up beside me, once again surrounded by another energy field. Ice covered his whiskers and he shivered a little.

  “M … why am I not cold?”

  This form does provide a small amount of protection, including extreme temperatures. And any environment that it can’t protect you from, my forcefield will. You don’t even need to breathe while we’re in this powered state.

  Minutes later, I returned Fluffy to Mrs. Tonkleson’s front yard, slowly setting him down. I held up a finger. “Stay out of the tree from now on, okay, buddy?” The cat batted my finger with a clawed paw and promptly ran under the front porch.

  I looked into the sky, thinking about what M said earlier. “Don’t need to breathe … can I—are you saying I can go into space?”

  Of course, but why would you want—

  I didn’t hear what M said after that. Because I was flying into freaking space.

 
If flying above the clouds was pure awesome, I could only describe seeing space for the first time as … y’know what? I can’t even describe it. The stars, the Moon … Earth slowly spinning under you … there aren’t words for it. I was up there for an hour, just gazing. Lost in it all. Careful to stay out of sight from the five Superheroes stationed on the Moon, I eventually meandered my way down to the lunar surface to watch the Earth rise.

  As my palm-sized world crept into view, everything bothersome about it—girls, a college degree, the rest of that future life stuff—seemed smaller. Less intimidating. I felt like I could handle any problem it could throw at me. What was once a pit of despair the day before had become a galaxy of possibilities instead.

  I grinned. “I think I just found a name, M.”

  Be still my incorporeal heart. I … M trailed off, something grabbing his attention.

  “What?”

  I’m not sure. Turn to your left.

  I turned right.

  Your other left.

  I turned left. And just past the dark side of the Moon, I saw—there’s really no other way to put it—I saw space itself slowly tear open.

  “M?”

  Glowing white energy webbed out for miles as a car-sized hole ripped open. It was like … an invisible knife was cutting into reality itself.

  “M?” I said again, with clear panic in my voice.

  It’s a fissure, leading to another dimension. And I’m detecting massive amounts of Ramma Radiation from the other side.

  I backed away. “Could it be one of you? Some other dimensional somebody like you?”

  Perhaps. But unlikely.

  “So what do we do?”

  …. Fly closer, slowly. There are few things in existence capable of producing a dimensional fissure like this one. And all of them are exceedingly dangerous.

  I hesitated, wondering if I was ready for this. I hadn’t even fought a bad guy yet. Other dimensional stuff? That was HEROES territory.

  Gabe, better we confront this now than to wait for it to sneak up on us later. Especially if it’s a member of The Council or something they’ve sent.

  I crept up alongside it, just enough to extend my neck and peer in … wondering if I was going to get a peek and this Council thing that M was so afraid of, wondering if I was going to see something—anything—that would help me understand his world better.

  A long, black tentacle slowly curled out of the glowing fissure.

  We need to leave. Now.

  The tentacle suddenly turned towards me. I didn’t see what came next.

  Because I was hauling ass back to Earth.

  “Is it following us?” I said, afraid to look back and see for myself.

  No, it retreated back into the fissure. As long as we avoid that inter-dimensional nest, we should be fine. Unless, of course there are other Sentinels within the solar system, which is a distinct possibility.

  I slowed to a hover, above the nighttime clouds of Prose. “Sentinels?”

  The Council created them. It’s what they used to reduce me to this state and—apparently—it’s what they’re now using to patrol this sector of space, to see if I—or any like me—survived. If I leave a body for an extended period of time or we’re within close proximity of it, the Sentinel will find and most likely destroy us.

  “They made that? Just because of you? What did you do, M?”

  That is absolutely none of your business.

  “Of course it’s my business! If you wanna set up shop inside my head—”

  IF you think otherwise, just say the word. I’ve built up enough strength to leave you and find some other body to hide in. Someone that might be far smarter about this Superhero business.

  “Fine, whatever,” I said. And then flew back into the inky clouds over Prose.

  ***

  I left the darkness of UTP’s parking garage and stepped into the midday sun, goofy grin spread across my face and—now that I think about it—I believe I actually had my hands on my hips. Sheesh.

  In my first week as a Superhero, I’d fought and beaten Dr. Villainous, stopped six muggings, and rescued four people from a burning building. (But, admittedly, I was the one that set the building on fire, so … that happened.)

  But other than the cat thing (and the setting the building on fire thing), life was going pretty well, and I thought it could only get better. I was at the University of Prose, ready to attend orientation. Ready to find out what the possibilities were going to be for the other part of my life. Would I be a doctor? A lawyer? A journalist? A photographer? An actor? The sky was the limit, and I had the awesome Superpower to fly even beyond that. I was stupid with empowerment, ridiculous with confidence, and crazy with superiority. I took one energetic step onto the lawn of the campus, smile spreading even wider across my face.

  Gabe, this college nonsense is a terrible idea.

  I took a few quick steps, barely avoiding a face plant right there on the lawn.

  Now—and especially then—M had the ability to deflate me so quickly, using so few words … the only way I know how to describe it is hilariously sad.

  It took a few more steps to regain my swagger. “No, M, not going to college is a terrible idea.”

  Oye. But in the name of The Void, why, Gabe? Your being here is—at best—a mild distraction and—at worst—a colossal waste of time. There is nothing that the so-called academics of this institution can teach you that I cannot. And have you stopped to consider how difficult it’s going to be to maintain a secret identity while fraternizing with the local herd?

  “Look, it’s important we blend in, right? And me not going to college is going to be the opposite of blend-y. It’s all I’ve talked about for the last year.”

  That’s convenient, considering it will still be all you’re talking about for the NEXT year from your prison cell. While trading packs of cigarettes and toilet wine. Mark my words, Gabriel, you’re leading us both down a path of certain doom.

  “Melodramatic much?”

  Massive clusters of incoming freshman and parents covered the entrance of the University Center. The sound of their conversations slowly spread to me.

  When HEROES catches us for breaking the Wertham Act, when The Council learns that I’ve survived their vexatious attempts to execute me, when you learn what it really means to be a hero—ask me if I was being melodramatic.

  “I’ve been a hero for a week now, M. And I’ve been doing a pretty darn good job. And since—”

  Because being a hero for a week obviously has familiarized you with all of the potential pitfalls …

  “AND since you said our powers are only going to increase, I think it’s safe to say we—I—have got a solid freaking handle on things. You may have been alive for longer than me, but I’ve been living on Earth for longer than you. I’m crazy familiar with what it takes to be a Superhero. So trust me when I say … I got this.”

  Okay, very well, Gabe. But do you have ‘this?’

  “Yes, I just said—” my eyes narrowed. “Wait, what?”

  “YO, GARRISON!” a male voice said from behind me.

  I spun, right in time to see Bo Dudley, my pain in the ass friend, knock me to the ground with a belly bump. Bo is a stocky guy. He easily has a hundred pounds on me. So when he says hello—in his jerk-y belly-bump way—it always sends me to my elbows and ass. Hard.

  “Why would you do that?” I said to Bo, but more to M. He was still getting a handle on our powers then, but he obviously sensed Bo’s incoming bump.

  “Hate the game, not the player, dude.” Bo held out a hand.

  To illustrate a simple point for a simple mind: There is no way you can be prepared for the unknown. Short-lived races like yours are defined, not by knowledge, but by ignorance. And since true ignorance isn’t recognized until it disappears, there is no way—no possible way—that you can be completely ready for a life you’ve never had.

  I ignored Bo’s hand and stood, dusting off my jeans. “There are other wa
ys to say hello.”

  Wait a moment, THAT was a greeting? What sort of backwards race are you? I thought it was an attack.

  Bo said something else, but I didn’t hear him. I was too busy realizing, for the first time really, just how dangerous this relationship with M was going to be. He thought—actually believed—that Bo was attacking me. And M was willing to let it happen, just to prove a sadistic point.

  All the better I suppose. If it had been an attack, we probably would have exposed our identity. Forcing me to kill the halfwit.

  “You alright, dude?” Bo said. “You look a little green. I hit you that hard?”

  “Huh?” I turned back to Bo. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, I’m good. No, wait—I’m not good. Will you not do that? Ever again? Ever? It’s crazy dangerous.”

  Are you talking to me or him?

  “Yeah, sure, dude, I’ll try. But probably not, no.”

  What he said.

  I knew that M and I needed to have a heart-to-heart about this killing stuff. But I decided to put it off. It was too heavy to get into right then. Truth be told, I never seriously confronted M about it until after that thing with Reagan.

  “OMG, dude”—Bo put a hand on my shoulder, leading me towards the murmuring crowd—“college. Freaking college! Can you believe it?”

  I can’t believe you call it a college.

  “How many times you gonna get laid this year you think?” Bo said. “Ten? Twelve times?”

  “I …”

  Bo laughs. “Me too, dude. Me too. We’re gonna have so much poontang thrown at us, we won’t know what to do.”

  They THROW it at you?

  I sigh. “They don’t throw it at you.”

  We stopped at the edge of the sidewalk. Bo shouted to be heard over the crowd and pop music, blaring from unseen speakers. “Might as well! You ever seen a movie about college? You think it’s about book learnin’? Let me tell you something: College is about bonin’!”

  Boning? What in the name of The Void is this neanderthal talking about?

  As I was struggling to come up with a reply—one that would work for both M and Bo—when I saw … her.

  She flipped her hair over her shoulder, looking my way. The hint of recognition touched her green eyes before she smiled. And then, I swear to God, it was like Reagan MacPherson walked towards me in slow motion, the wind gently tugging at her red hair and white sundress.