Mortality

“Mr. Kline,” the young woman said from behind the counter.

George didn’t move, except for the mild tremor in his head and hands.

In a louder voice, the young woman said, “Mr. Kline.”

George turned his head towards the voice, his eyebrows raising.

“The Doctor will see you now,” the young woman said with a blazing white smile. George grunted and pushed to his feet, lifting a palsied hand to the woman behind the counter.

With shuffling steps, George walked through the archway and into the hall. “Mr. Kline.” A man wearing scrubs stood next to a door. “This way.” The man opened the door and waited. George shuffled down the hallway.

Upon reaching the door, he turned into the small room. “Do I need to take off my shirt?” George’s voice warbled as he looked at the man in scrubs.

“No,” the man said, holding a hand up with a small smile. “This is the follow-up. Doc Vance will be in shortly to talk to you. Have a seat here.” The man in scrubs pointed to a chair against a wall.

Turning his backside to the chair, George stepped backward until his legs connected with the soft covering. The man in scrubs reached out a hand, letting George use it to brace against. George lowered himself into the chair and released the man in scrubs.

“Thank you, young man,” George smiled at the man in scrubs.

“You’re welcome, Mr. Kline,” the man in scrubs said as he opened the door and left.

The popular smell of antiseptic greeted George as he ran his eyes over the pictures and posters on the wall. They showed different organs or systems of the body and what ailments might befall them. “They need to change the decor in here,” he said. George waited.

The door opened in a smooth fashion and a middle-aged man stepped in. “George!” he said with a smile and held out a hand. “Nice to see you.”

George looked at the man and shook his hand. “Doc,” George said. “So, will I live?” George raised his bushy eyebrows and laughed at his own joke.

“Yes,” Doc Vance said with a small laugh. “Keep doing whatever it is you’re doing and you should be with us for a while longer. Is there anything that concerns you?”

“Oh, you know. The normal stuff, I guess,” George said. “Tired a lot. The shakes. Eating soft food.”

“Yeah, well,” Doc Vance said. “At your age, George, there’s lots of things that happen. Being ninety-five is quite an accomplishment.”

“I guess,” George said, hiding a smile. “Those charts still say I’m fit?”

“They do,” Doc Vance said. “You have the health of a seventy-year-old.”

“Don’t feel like it,” George said and rolled his eyes.

“We can’t all be Wonder Lad,” Doc Vance said. “That kid seems to defy everything. Been around since the 30’s”

“Yeah,” George said. “I saw the newspapers when he debuted.”

“I bet you did,” Doc Vance said. “I, on the other hand, didn’t. But I have seen his more recent stuff. If he ever grows up, I think we are in trouble.”

“We’ll have to fend for ourselves,” George said, his head tilting as he spoke. “If there’s nothing else, I’ll get on home.”

“Alright, George,” Doc Vance said and held out a hand to help George to his feet. “You be safe and careful out there.”

“So far,” George said with a smirk. “That’s what I been doing.”

Doc Vance held the door open as George shuffled out. “See you in six months.”

George waved as he walked towards the exit. He reached the waiting room and waved to the young woman behind the counter. Reaching the door, George chuckled to himself. Outside, he glanced around the open area. There were cars in the parking lot, but he didn’t see anyone. Shuffling for the wheelchair ramp, George stepped onto the asphalt. “Let’s go home, kid.”

The gray hair on George’s head turned jet black and shifted to the swept back state. Age spots and wrinkles disappeared and his eyes cleared. The sags around his body tightened and his stride lengthened. George’s clothes shifted to dark blue and blood red of Wonder Lad’s costume. No mask appeared as he laughed. “Sure thing, old man.” Leaping into the air, Wonder Lad flew away.

Rogue Telekinetic – The Cyclist

Stepping out his front door, Jack Davis blinked several times in the bright sunshine, then slid on his sunglasses. The cool breeze floated across his skin and a smile danced on his lips.

“Get your ass up here.”

The screeching voice pulled Jack’s attention. A slender woman with a sundress walked down the sidewalk. The dog at her feet trotted to keep pace. The woman’s head turned over her shoulder. “I said, get up here. Now”

A young kid, perhaps nine, wobbled on his bike as he approached the woman. “I am.” The kid swerved his front wheel, avoiding a pothole and rolled towards the intersection.

“Stop!” The woman jutted her head forward and both of her fisted hands shook at her side. “That means now.” Her voice bounced off the other houses and carried into the distance.

The kid pedaled backward, making the bike stop. Leaning to one side, the kid put a foot down and waited. “I know how to cross the street, mom.” Curly hair poked out at random sides of the helmet on the kid’s head. “I’m even looking for cars.”

Jack crossed the street and walked into the shade provided by the trees. Letting out a sigh, he shook his head.

“Let’s go,” the woman shouted. “Get out of the road, you idiot.”

Jack turned his head and watched as the same woman called after the child on the bike.

The child veered up a driveway and onto the sidewalk. A quick glance over his shoulder and the child’s pace on the pedals quickened.

Keeping the child in sight, Jack heard the woman talking low.

“Stupid kid,” she said and jogged after the kid.

“Hmmm…,” Jack said to himself. Breathing in, he focused on the woman’s ankles.

“Stop!” The woman’s voice was loud and even a few people looked out of their windows at her. “I fucking said stop!”

“You’re done,” Jack whispered and flicked a finger at his side.

The trailing leg of the woman moved just an inch. It clipped the leading leg, making her body travel well in front of her feet. Letting go of the leash, her arms flew up as her body slammed into the cool, damp sidewalk with a loud, flat smack.

Jack continued on his path.

With the sound of a tire skidding on the cement, the kid slammed on his brakes and straddled over his bike. Looking at the prone woman, he called out, “Mom? Are you OK?” The shadow of a smile crept over his lips.

The dog backtracked and licked the woman’s face. Using her hands, the woman got to her feet and dusted herself off. A bruise appeared on her cheek and a dot of red showed on her lips. “I tripped.”

“You’re always telling me to be careful,” the kid said. “Maybe you should.”

“Don’t you talk to me that way.” The woman snatched the leash from the ground. “We’re going home.”

“But the park is right there,” the kid whined.

“I said we’re going home,” she said and grabbed the kid’s shoulder. “Now get off that bike and walk it home. Ungrateful brat.”

The kid looked at his feet and shook his head. Gripping the handlebars, he trudged after his mother.

Another woman, further along in age, exited her car. She carried a bag of groceries to the house, shaking her head. A teenage boy stepped from the house and went to the car.

“This has gone from bad,” Jack said to himself, “to a travesty.” Something shuffling in the shrubs got his attention. “Let’s see how she deals with this.” Focusing on the bush, Jack’s mind found the squirrel in there. In his head, he envisioned holding it in a ball. Next, he pictured the ball floating near the ground, over the street and across the path of the dog the woman was walking.

The squirrel did exactly that.

As the furry creature cross the street, the dog jerked to the end of the leash, pulling the woman with him. “Hey!”

Jack flicked another finger, and the squirrel jumped free and darted across the sidewalk. The dog followed, pulling his leash. As the thick cord, crossed in front of the woman, she stepped high to avoid it.

Nodding, Jack made two things happen at once. First, the flimsy material of the dress flew up and covered the woman’s face. Her thin body was exposed to the world. The only thing under it were the bikini style briefs she wore.

The other thing Jack did was halt the progress of the woman’s knee as she stepped over the leash. Her foot caught on the thick rope, and once again, she was propelled onto the pavement.

The teenage boy, carrying groceries in from the car gaped at the young woman’s body. “Whoa!”

“Yeah,” said another voice. The teenage boy turned and saw his father standing in the yard, staring wide eyed at the same scene.

“If you two are done,” a woman’s voice said from the porch, a smile plain on her face. “The groceries won’t get put away themselves.”

The woman holding the dog leash scrambled to her feet and pulled her dress down. Seeing the two guys staring at her, a deep red flowed up her neck, cheeks, and forehead. Without so much as a backward glance, she dropped the leash and ran.

“Mom?” The kid on the bike reached for the leash and fit it over his handlebars. “Where are you going?” He pedaled fast. “Wait up!”

The woman dashed into the road, holding up hands as cars screeched to a halt.

The kid rolled to a stop at the intersection and watched as his mother ran down the next block. “Screw this,” the kid said. He turned around, bringing the dog with him. “I’m going to the park. Let’s go Max.”

The Reporter

My name is Liz and I’m a reporter for the Daily Bulletin,  Corville’s largest news outlet. The Event, as it is simply known, happened just over three years ago. It wasn’t a bright flash of light or a great disaster. The Event just happened. Everyone went about their day and then just stopped. No one remembers it, but it did happen to everyone. The only evidence we have it happened is the forty-five-minute gap in our memory. That and random surveillance video feeds showing people standing or sitting completely still. It made the news, but it really was secondhand information.

I know not everyone feels the same about The Event. Hell, it’s been over three years ago and I’m still confused about it. It doesn’t help I wasn’t affected by it, at least not directly. Instead, I get to report about the people that have been directly affected by it. Most have been improved in some way. A woman in the more rural area gained the ability to run at nearly thirty miles an hour. I know that doesn’t sound fast, but she is able to clean her house and other random tasks in a short amount of time. She also happens to be fifty-two years of age.

Soon after The Event, a high school janitor invented a device to mow open fields without being controlled. He said he got the idea from one of the robo-vacuum things. Once he got his machine made, he tested it on the football field and it worked the first time. He took his life savings and got a patent. Next, he sold it for five times the amount. Since then, he has invented several other gizmos. In the span of six months, he went from a lowly janitor to a wealthy individual. Now, he’s a millionaire. He still invents stuff and sells it too.

Thaddeus is one of our less successful stories on this front. Thaddeus can make things disintegrate. It was the City that first hired him, then the County. He would work in the landfills and dumps making the garbage go away. The thing is, he worked so fast he has to wait nearly a year before the dump fills up again. When he goes back to work, it’s for a few weeks. They won’t pay him when he isn’t working, so he struggles to pay his bills. He hires himself out from time to time for demolition work. This isn’t steady work, so he has to do other things. His biggest problem is he destroys his own clothes. Imagine buying a new shirt, then a week later, it’s shredded or just gone. With his low income, he’s struggling just to live.

Then there is Over Lord. That name is self-given. He’s nothing but an over inflated ego. He’s strong and he can fly, but otherwise, there isn’t much else. It seems every few months he tries to rob a bank or some tech company here. We have plenty to choose from, but seriously. Every hunter will tell you don’t crap where you live. No one told Over Lord. He goes out of town, but usually comes running back when some other super powered person has chased him away. The way he uses his powers here scares the crap out of me. It would take nothing for him to level any one of a dozen skyscrapers or demolish a parking garage or five. The only thing that keeps him in check, a person really, is The Woman.

The Woman, no one knows her real name, is exactly like Over Lord. Maybe not exactly alike. He has a silly nickname and she doesn’t. The few times I’ve seen her, she had on regular clothes like she just got off work or is late for the bus.

Over Lord’s last foray into downtown happened two weeks ago. Being between stories, and on my lunch break, I was in Henderson Park enjoying a bologna sandwich with extra mayo. Several people pointed up as a dark figure descended and landed in the open field. It was Over Lord and as he walked I could see his lips move, exposing clenched teeth. His head jerked left and right as people scampered away from him. When his feet touched the sidewalk, he clenched and unclenched his fists. Unlike other villains, he didn’t have a costume or uniform, per se. There was no spandex, cape, or mask. The only thing covering his face was wrap around yellow shooting glasses. His outfit that day consisted of dark running shoes, rugged cargo pants, a t-shirt, and some type of belt with things hanging from it. In my opinion, it was a practical choice.

At this point in his career, people knew who he was and what he could do. No one was running in a mad panic trying to get away. He hadn’t done anything to anyone in the park. A few near misses drew a narrow-eyed stare, but otherwise, he moved with long rapid, strides and a fixed gaze.

Stuffing the remains of my lunch in my purse, I grabbed my phone and recorded a video. I am a reporter after all.

Getting to my feet, I hustled after Over Lord and kept a safe distance behind him. He fidgeted with his belt and then tossed a softball-sized object across the five-lane road. It was the Grimes Industry’s building. The device he made bounced once, then connected with the glass wall with a hollow thump and stuck in place. A second later the glass frosted over with fine cracks and fell in a dust pile on the sidewalk. Over Lord stepped into the traffic. Trucks, cars, and motorcycles screeched to a halt as he walked across the faded asphalt. I watched as blazer wearing security guards hustled from the Grimes Industry building. They stood in a line, shoulder to shoulder, on the sidewalk. Several had draw handguns and stood ready.

The wail of a police siren pulled my eyes and I saw the black and white car roll over the sidewalk. People darted for the cover of other buildings and shops. The police car stopped at the break between Grimes Industry and Alice’s Boutique. “Over Lord. You are under arrest for destruction of private property and reckless endangerment,” blared a cop’s voice over the loudspeaker. “Put your hands in the air and stop hostilities.” I’m not sure what the cop was trying to do, but there was no way words would stop Over Lord.

Creeping behind the now abandoned cars, I moved close enough to hear Over Lord speak.

“I am here to get a piece of equipment,” Over Lord said, his voice clear. “I don’t want to hurt anyone, but if they get in my way, it will happen.” He tugged on the belt draped diagonally across his torso.

This was one of his more popular phrases. It’s why we considered him a sociopath.

“Do you have the means to pay for the H-1 Sound Modulator and Enhancer?” A new person stepped between the Grimes Industry security force. His Tom Ford suit fit him perfectly. The blank face carried a cocked eyebrow and small smirk. “If you do, then we can work something out. We’ll even overlook the destruction of our window.”

“Unfortunately, I am light on funds,” Over Lord responded. “Perhaps, Alex, we can work out a payment plan?” Over Lord reached for his equipment belt and put various items together.

“That won’t work for me,” Alex, the CEO of Grimes Industry, said. “It would look bad on us letting a known villain just take something.”

“Then this is will be a bad day for you,” Over Lord said and pointed his item at Alex. “That is what I’m going to do.” I saw the item jerk and a popping noise sounded.

A Toyota Yaris flew license plate over headlights and intercepted the projectile Over Lord shot. The blue car erupted in shards and shrapnel. Black smoke followed behind the husk of the vehicle as it slammed into the asphalt and slid into two more empty cars.

The security and Alex scrambled to their feet. Several guards had wounds, but they were all ambulatory. The cops had clambered behind their cruiser and leaned over the roof pointing their weapons at Over Lord. Several cars had broken windows and holes in their bodies. The sound of a tire popping made me jerk.

I shifted to the hood of the car I hid behind and put both hands on my phone. Inching up, I saw her. Her hair splayed everywhere, and she limped. A closer look showed she had broken a heel on her shoe. Her lips parted, showing clenched teeth, and her eyes bored into Over Lord. Both of her fists shook at her sides as she walked.

“You’ve been warned before,” the Woman shouted stabbing a finger at Over Lord. “I am now officially late for my job and I’ve only been there a week. The best I can hope for is my boss is held up by this traffic jam you caused.” She pushed two cars out of her way and continue on the path to Over Lord. “With a brain like yours, you’re smart enough to know this stupid. Just get a job, like everybody else. Then you can buy the stuff you like.”

“Where would the fun in that be?” Over Lord’s hands flew over his belt. “I enjoy our tête-à-têtes. They are so invigorating and get my blood flowing.” His smile reached his eyes as he turned in my direction. “Besides, we both know what they will use their devices for. I’m just being honest about the whole thing.” He spun around and face The Woman and flung something.

I couldn’t see what it was, but the orange object poked over their heads. Blue beams shot from The Woman’s eyes and intercepted the device. The trajectory kept it going, but only for an eye blink, then it exploded, sending dark smoke and dust everywhere.

Choking coughs came from the center of the cloud. A breeze carried most of it away, and I saw both of the combatants get to their feet. Over Lord was first and he didn’t look happy.

“Eyebeams, now?” He wiped the soot from his eyes on a sleeve. “Seriously? When did you get those?”

Waving a hand in front of her face, The Woman coughed once. “I’ve always had’em. Just don’t use them often. They dry my eyes.”

Looking down at her red blouse and tan pants, she swore. “You’ve got to be kidding me. I just bought these.” Her face took on a sour expression as she looked Over Lord. “Screw it. I’m already late.” Throwing a fist back to Montana, she leaped in the air. Her mouth opened and let out a roar as she swung.

Over Lord backpedaled and tapped something on a wrist.

As The Woman’s fist inched closer, a tangerine-colored glow enclosed around Over Lord. He held his hands up. A hissing static sound blasted my ears and the field around Over Lord brightened.

“What?” The Woman looked at her fist then grimaced at Over Lord.

“Force field,” Over Lord said with a chuckle. Tilting his head left and right, he said, “You can’t hit me.” He turned and took a step.

The Woman lunged at him, reaching around his upper arms and chest.

Over Lord’s eyes went wider than a swimming pool and his mouth fell open. He pushed his arms away from his body, keeping The Woman’s fingertips from touching. Over Lord put both hands on his hips, tossed his head back exposing the tendons and lines in his neck.

First two fingers brushed each other, then three. Finally, all four hooked together.

“NO!” Over Lord’s arms were pinned at his sides.

I saw The Woman’s eyes close tightened her grip on her hands and squeezed. Her whole body shook and she screamed past Over Lord’s shoulder.

The force field flickered twice, then went out. Two loud cracks came from the duo, and Over Lord bellowed. His head hung limp at his chest.

“I ain’t fallin’ for that again,” The Woman said shifting her hips. Sweeping a leg in front of Over Lord she swung it back, taking his feet from under him. Both of her hands pushed on his shoulders and he went face down in the air. Next he bounced three times like a basketball on the road, then stopped moving.

Turning from the prone form, The Woman dusted herself off and ran a hand through her hair. Limping from the broken heel, she walked the direction she came. I saw her bend over at the sidewalk and pick up a purse, then she disappeared into the crowd.

Stepping out from behind the car, I approached Over Lord. I felt his pulse tapping on his wrist. Both of his arms had odd lumps in them. He still lay face down in the hole his body made.

“Step back, lady,” one cop said as they approached. “He could be faking it.” I nodded, stepped back, then stopped my video.

“Crap!” I looked around at the mess. “My car is back there.” Hustling back the way I came, I found my car and took the back way to the Daily Bulletin. After parking, I made it into the building and dashed to my editor, Hank. We talked about what I saw and I showed him my video. He damn near kissed me when he saw it.

“Liz,” he said. “Get this to the IT department. They are going get that off there and on our website. You just got front page. In twenty minutes I will need copy from you. Get it to my assistant ASAP.”

“Assistant?”

“She in there,” Hank waved a hand to the main door. “She’ll even sign your check for this.”

I stepped through the door and looked at the desk. Then I damn near fainted.

Flix

“Yes, officer,” the fast food restaurant manager said. “That man right over there. The one in the blue shirt.” A scrawny arm with gnarled fingers pointed.

The officer saw the person indicated. A large pile of straws, coffee stirrers, and various condiment packets floated in the air in front of the man. The mass of items flowed to a garbage bin where a young woman waited with a smile.

“Excuse me,” the officer said as he approached the man. “I need your statement. Start with your name.”

The man in the blue shirt turned and wiped the sweat from his eyes. “Um, my name is Felix Emerson.” He paused as the officer wrote his name on the pad of paper. “Well, I was here for lunch.” Felix continued on with his version of the events.

As the ten minute mark approached, the officer closed his notebook. “Thank you, Mr. Emerson.”

“People call me Flix,” Felix said with a shrug. “I hope you’re able to prosecute that guy. He technically didn’t rob the place, but there had to be another crime.”

“That’s out of my hands,” the officer said. He waved, turned and walked outside.

“Here’s your order, Flix,” the store manager said. “My compliments.”

“Wow!” Flix took the offered bag and soda. “Thank you, kindly.”

Several weeks later and Felix has stopped for lunch again. This time at one of the more modern soup and sandwich shops. He placed his order and moved to the counter where food was being served.

A crash sounded and a loud shout echoed through the restaurant. “You know the drill,” the loud voice said. A short shotgun with a strap hung under an arm.

Felix turned and saw a figure clad in thick leather pants and jacket. A dark red hockey mask covered the face.

“Gimme the money in the registers and in the safe and no one gets hurt,” the man said, storming up to the registers. He held the gun in one hand and swung it in front of the cashiers.

“That voice sounds familiar,” Felix said. He stepped in the general direction of where the violence was happening.

“Get back man,” the red masked man said. “You don’t wanna—” He paused and lowered his firearm. “I remember you.”

“Crap,” Felix said.

“They couldn’t really arrest me, cause they couldn’t make the charges stick,” the man said. He tilted his head. “It’s like I’m bulletproof.”

“Now,” Felix said. “I don’t know about that.”

“At least straw proof,” the man laughed. “You see, last time you got the drop on me. Plus there were a lot of straws, stirrers and other things for you to throw at me.”

“That stuff’s here,” Felix said. He kept his hands in plain sight and turned his head. A straw dispenser sat next to the condiments on the counter nearby.

“Yeah,” the masked man said. “I ain’t wearin’ no t-shirt and shorts this time.” He splayed his hands and looked over his body. “In fact, you won’t even get a lucky shot at my eyes.” A thick gloved finger tapped the mask at the temple. “High strength mesh covering the holes.”

“I see that,” Felix said. “Just get on with it, then.”

“You ain’t got nothing that’ll hurt me.” Again, the man laughed, jerking his head back and shaking his shoulders.

In a smooth motion, Red Mask gripped the handle of his shotgun and leveled the business end at Felix.

Diving to the side, and through an archway, Felix waved a hand at the soda fountain area. Every napkin left the holder and zoomed between the man in the mask and Felix. The boom of the shotgun sounded. Several nearby people screamed and broke into a panic-run. In small waves they fled from the restaurant.

Rolling to his feet, Felix waved a hand again. This time all the paper-covered straws flew, javelin-like at Red Mask. When they hit, they bounced harmlessly off the thick clothing and hard mask.

Without even bothering to flinch or even swat the annoyances away, Red Mask shouted, “You have nothing that even hurts me!” He laughed again, only louder.

Dashing through the archway, Red Mask aimed his small hand-cannon at Felix. The laughter hadn’t stopped, but it had settled to a rumbling chuckle.

Looking for cover, Felix’s eyes did a double take. On the garbage can in the dining room, he saw something. Above the trash can, two metal cylinders with several metal handles sticking out at different angles. The small sign above them read, don’t throw our silverware in the trash. Darting for the wooden stand, he snaked his hands towards the cylinders. Wrapping his fingers around the cool metal, he turned and faced the masked man.

Felix’s lips slid into a one-sided smirk. “Are you sure about that?” With a quick jerk, he shook both draining cans at the same time. Their metallic clink echoed in the restaurant, drawing the laughter to silence.

In a whipping motion, Felix tossed both metal canisters at the masked man.

The boom of the shotgun reverberated in the narrow area.

Felix juked to the side but kept his focus on the red mask. Forks lined up and nailed the same spot on the mask, between the mesh-covered eyes. The repeated blows moved the masked head back and lifted the chin. After the staccato of the forks on hardened plastic stopped, the slaps of spoons on skin sounded next. On the fourth hit of his throat, the masked man choked. He dropped his weapon and leaned forward.

Running, Felix waved both arms in unison. Every spoon in the dining room answered his unspoken command and aimed for the back of the masked man’s knees. The bombardment of the thin metal eating utensils buckled the legs, putting the masked man on the ground.

Dashing forward, Felix ripped the gun from gloved hands and pulled at the buckles holding the strap of the weapon. As he stood, Felix flipped the mask off the face. “This time,” Felix huffed. “I bet the charges stick.”