The Dancer

“Tasha this isn’t a good idea.” Marie looked through the gym door. “The stands are packed!”

“Good.” Tasha let out a heavy sigh. “If I’m coming out, it might as well be big.” She shook her hands and paced in a tight circle. “I need to do this, Claire.”

“You’re on deck,” the dance competition official said. “This way, and wait at the door.”

Tasha winked at Claire and walked to the spot designated by the official.

“You got this,” Claire said, giving a thumbs up.

Tasha gave a quick finger wave and grin.

The final strain of the previous dance team’s music faded. Tasha saw them dash to the far end of the gym floor, file out to the side.

“Up next Central High school.” An official pulled the door open for Tasha, ushering her in.

“Where is the rest of your team?” This was the announcer.

“I’m a team of one.” Tasha shrugged and moved to the edge of the dance area.

“The next school up is Central High.” The amplified voice reverberated throughout the gym.

Tasha walked to the center of the gym.

“Central High you have the floor and your music is on.”

The second of silence stretched. The sudden blast of the bass note sent a jolt through the crowd. A gasp that changed barometric pressure of the room came next.

Tasha held hands over had, fingers dangling towards her head. Another set of arms were overhead, palms out. A third set splayed from her shoulders pointing to the rafters. The fourth set stuck out from here body forming a cross. Another set pointed to the ground and behind. The final set extended forward with fingers curling in a come hither.

The entire front row of the bleachers showed large amounts of white in their eyes.

Tasha’s choice of music changed to a steady rolling rhythm. A body detached, taking a set of arms with it. This process repeated for each set of arms with another five more bodies appearing. Each body’s appearance was identical to Tasha. The only difference, though no one in the stands could tell, were the eyes. Only one dancer had normal eyes, the rest shared milky white, hazy eyes.

Every dancer moved in perfect timing with the driving music blaring over the sound system. Spins ended with crisp precision, flips and leaps cleared the exact distance needed. Each dancer’s hips swayed in unison.

The entire gymnasium sat in graveyard silence. Jaws slacked and eyes widened. Every spectator watched as the identical dancers completed their complex gyrations and intricate choreography.

The music built up in volume and cadence. The movements of the dancers picked up in time. As the final notes carried, Tasha stood in the center of the dance area. Each of the clones were away from her, but turned to face center. At a single step interval, each dancer darted toward their creator. As they approached to an arms distance, each dancer leaped and collided with the host, melding with Tasha.

As the last body disappeared from view, Tasha stood in perfect on point stance.

The music faded and the audience’s breathing returned. Tasha walked with the poise of a prima Dona and left the dance area.

As Tasha strode past the announcer, she said, “Not bad for a Meta-Human, huh?” Tasha kept walking, even with the dark clad person detaching from the stands.

Kopy Kat

“Ladies, this is no way to meet me.” The figure stepped through the door and put his hands on his hips. He wore a plain white t-shirt tucked into well worn and faded blue jeans. There was no emblem, no utility belt, and no cape. His feet were clad in ankle high chuck Taylor’s. The only thing hiding his identity was the domino mask.

“What do we have here?” The short woman turned to face the man. “Must not be much, because he ain’t got a costume.”

“Red Racer, it takes more than a silly costume to be a hero.” The young man smiled at the short red dressed woman.

“You must be one of them over all types. Decent strength, toughness, reaction, flexibility.” The woman stepped forward placing her hands on her hips. “Jack of all trades, no specialty.” She smirked and glanced back at Crag, who carried a large ATM on her shoulders.

“You have no idea.” The man shook his head slowly then tilted it forward. “All that matters is I am going to stop you.”

Red Racer let out a sharp HA and zipped forward. Her fists darted in on the plainly dressed man, but not a single one landed. The man either shifted out of range or deflected the blows to the side.

A quick change of his feet, and the man sent a triple punch that landed on Red Racer’s face. Bruises and a cut showed when he stopped.

Red Racer fell with a moan and struggling to get up.

The ATM clanged to the ground.

“You should’t hit girls.”

Crag stomped forward, her fists curled and rising.

“Look, Crag. You don’t want to do this.” The young man held his hands up and stepped back a few paces. “You can just surrender and make this easier on yourself.” The cocky smile never left the man’s face.

“Shut up!”

Crag brought a fist down with blinding speed. The only resistance she felt was the ground and left a beachball sized crater.

“I warned you, Crag.” The youth’s fist connected with Crag’s chin and she staggered back.

“How?” Her features suited the question as she rubbed where he hit her.

“It’s my ability.” He stepped in, and pivoted his hip as he delivered a hard, fast right to her midsection.

She swatted the punch away like an annoying gnat. Countering with a hook to his face, he went sprawling across the open expanse of the mall atrium to collide with the marble wall.

“OK.” He shook his head as he scrambled to his feet. “You’re faster than you look.”

“I’m a lot of things that I don’t look.”

The young man took the full body of Crag into his eyes. She was taller than he, well muscled, and he could see her feminine features.

“I’m not just a muscle bound clod good at knocking down doors and heavy lifting.” She leaned forward as she closed the distance between them. When she planted a hand on the ground, the young man stagger-stepped to the side. Crag completed her cartwheel and landed close enough to grab the plainly dressed hero. “I’m a lot smarter than people give me credit for.” She yanked up and grunted with the effort.

The young man didn’t budge.

“This right here, is where we are alike.” The hero reached out, grabbed bunches of Crag’s costume, flexed his knees and lifted. To finish the maneuver, he leaped into the air and spun, putting Crag’s body beneath him.

The boom echoed throughout the mall, shattering glass, knocking over planters, and setting off burglar alarms.

Crag looked into the masked eyes of the hero. “Copy cat.”

“Well, well, well. Brains to go with that brawn.” He locked his lips on hers. She struggled and then gave in and returned the kiss.

“I take it you aren’t going to let me go.”

“No. But I will visit.” The young man stood up as the police arrived. “There is no way I am letting you get away. You’re the first.”

Crag blushed as she stood up. Her long, unkempt hair covered her face and her smile.

The cops restrained Red Racer as she struggled to get away. Crag simply went peacefully.

The cop that stepped forward and took charge asked, “So you must be new and haven’t gotten your costume worked out.”

The young man looked at the floor then raised his head showing dazzling white teeth. “Sergeant, this is my costume. I wear this because I can. I’m KopyKat.” Shaking the police officer’s hand, KopyKat moved to the truck they stuck Crag in. He winked, then ran off.

Rogue Telekinetic – The Passing Lane

Jack Davis drove the same mindless route to work he did every day for the past nine years. Over this time, he managed to get his journey into work into a workable, and safe, routine. This routine usually served him well, but when something was amiss, stress and anger would build up. He would yell, pound his dashboard, and even give rude hand gestures.

This day, was the last type.

Jack was on the two-lane road, following the other work lemmings. He knew that in a half mile, the two-lane road would fork and divide the traffic. Jack also knew that the right lane rarely had slow traffic, and his lane seemed to slow to a crawl for several hundred feet. This crawl would speed up to a more respectable level once the cement barrier came into view.

This was the problem as far as Jack was concerned.

Other drivers would dart to the right lane, speed up, and cut back into the left lane. This dangerous gambit caused the slow down at the cost of someone gaining four, maybe five, car lengths. The only people that were worse were the motor cyclists, who would dart along the side of the slow moving traffic. On more than one occasion, a finder-bender happened, and this stopped traffic out right.

Jack, already gripping his steering wheel in a death grip, was on the verge of shouting. His doctor had recommended he calm down and find other ways to keep stress at bay. Jack managed to accomplish this in his life with everything that irked him, except for driving to and from work.

“Calm down Jack. They do this all the time.” Jack took a deep breath and let it out. He reached for the stress ball that rested in the passenger seat. A few quick squeezes and he tossed it back onto the seat.

“That doesn’t work,” Jack growled, staring at the next car to pass him in the right light with a left turn blinker flashing.

“What needs to happen is the barrier needs to start back there.” He tossed a thumb over his shoulder.

“I wonder…” Jack leaned over and peered up the column of cars, watching as the latest near-do-well squeezed into traffic, causing red taillights to blare.

“Just don’t get caught.” Jack eyeballed the cement barrier and breathed out. His breathing slowed and got deeper.

In his mind, Jack built a wall the same thickness, height and color of the cement barrier. He added a section, then another. Soon, the wall in his mind extended five cars past his current location. As the last wall solidified in his mind, he smiled.

“Excellent! Let’s see if I still got it.” Jack’s eyes twinkled as he spotted a car, well behind him, zip over to the right lane and pick up speed.

The speeding car dashed past Jack and turned on its blinker.

Jack was still doing his deep breathing and focused on the wall in his mind.

The car edged over, into the left lane. When its left front corner bent, breaking the light and peeling paint, Jack laughed.

“Yes! I still have it.”

The driver in the car swerved over into the right lane and continued. He made another attempt, this time at a faster pace. This was because he was approaching the cement barrier and would not be able to get over in time.

The crunching sound reached Jack’s ears, and he shook his head. The car now had the left front quarter panel mangled, the hood bent at an odd angle, and the tire elevated a few inches in the air.

“That is not going to be a good day for you.” Jack waved as he passed the now walking driver.

Jack watched as the driver examined his car and then looked around for what caused the damage to the car. When the driver approached the wall that Jack had constructed, his hand swung through nothing.

“Whew! Just in time on that one.” A hearty guffaw escaped from Jack as he picked up speed.

“I wonder what would happen if I keep that up? Maybe people will stop.”

Jack accelerated more and turned his blinker on for the merge he needed.

“Maybe the MWG will camp out there and find me.” Jack’s mouth twisted after saying this. “Let’s just play it by ear for now.”