Michael didn’t sleep that night. He couldn’t get the images of Viperlash’s corpse out of his mind. Yes, he had seen worse while working with Saw, but it was one thing to dispose of a body and a whole other thing to kill them yourself. At least with Donie and Saw’s deaths, he could convince himself it was an accident. That he didn’t mean to kill them, but he stared Viperlash in the eye and made the decision to end her life. He knew he didn’t have another choice. That she would have killed him or made him into her plaything if he hadn’t done it, but that only slightly lessened his grief.
He sighed, watching the sunrise atop a lifeguard tower on the beach. “She deserved it,” he muttered with a twitch in his lip.
Several hours later, he found him sitting on a rooftop with a hot cup of coffee. He had watched the news report about what had happened last night, and they were still trying to ID the charred corpse and the handgun. Or at least that was what the news had said. Michael doubted they hadn’t found out it was Viperlash. He assumed they were not reporting that to keep people from panicking.
Michael sighed and pushed those thoughts from his mind. He was still trying to find anything to focus on rather than figuring out what was happening with his precognition.
He blew out a long breath. “You got this.” He activated his precognition power and watched as the apparition of the old lady manifested.
She again took on a half-rotted form and began walking toward him.
“They took my son!” she cried.
He winced, remembering what had happened to him. “I know, and I know it won’t bring him or you back, but I promise to make Raymond pay for what he did.”
The apparition stopped and stared into Michael’s eyes. “You promise?”
“I do.”
“My power help?”
“It would, if you don’t mind me using it.”
“Use it. Use it and kill Raymond. Promise?”
“I promise.”
The apparition looked up at the sun, then back to him, and nodded. “Thank you. I entrust to you.” She faded away.
Michael felt strange, and instinctive knowledge entered his mind. Every test, every trial, and every time, the old lady had used her power. He looked up, understanding everything there was to know about her power, and a beacon blazed to life in his soul.
“All to you.”
He heard her voice one last time. He activated the power again, but this time, everything clicked correctly into place, resonating with the beacon. He watched as three branching timelines stretched out before him. While they only spanned 10 seconds, it fixed Michael’s most significant problem with the power. He could now see how his actions would affect the situation, even if there were three possibilities.
“Thank you,” he said, looking up to the sky.
Excited by the prospect that had just been laid out before him, he activated his mental library. He quickly realized that they wouldn’t all be as easy to convince as he now sat in front of the ghost of a disheveled man throwing a tantrum, because he could no longer see his library.
“Can’t see!” he yelled.
Michael sighed. “How the hell did you even end up on Raymond’s hit list?” he asked.
“Raymond?”
“The guy who killed you…”
“Oh, saw murder. Went to the police. End up dead. Unable to see. Unable to read. My library.” The apparition curled up on the ground and began sobbing. A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
Michael sighed again. “If I get some books for you to read, will you let me use your powers in peace?”
He stopped crying and sat up. “If good book.”
Michael nodded and thumbed through the money he had left. “Alright.” He deactivated the power and flew down to a nearby bookstore before reactivating it. “Show me which one you want,” he whispered.
The apparition nodded and thumbed through the different titles before pointing to one. “This.”
Michael pulled the book from the shelf, giving it a quick glance before walking to the checkout counter.
“Just this?” the man running the counter asked.
Michael nodded and paid for the book before flying back to the rooftop. He activated the mental library again. The apparition appeared, and Michael tried handing it the book, but it passed straight through the ghost’s arm and fell to the ground.
Michael facepalmed. “Of course,” he sighed.
He picked the book up again and signaled for the apparition to sit next to him. He opened the book to its first page.
“How about–” he trailed off as he watched the apparition read the first pager before sticking its head into the book. “Can you read it that way?”
“Yes,” the apparition answered. Michael shrugged and began using the library to practice his kickboxing.
He also used it to help him formulate a new workout routine. He didn’t have the money to spend on a gym membership, and there was no chance he was going to show his face in the same place too many times again. He ended up going heavenly into calisthenics, as he did not need any equipment to get a good workout. When he was happy with it, he deactivated the skill and went into the routine.
It started with three sets of 15 inclined pushups, then continued with three sets of 30 situps. While he did not have a pull-up bar, he gripped onto the edge of the roof access outcropping and did three sets of eight. Finally, he finished with three sets of 20 squats and three sets of 15 lunges.
He finished his workout and made his way to sit down and watch the busy city below. An explosion echoed out less than a block away, and with no hesitation, he jumped off the roof and flew toward the epicenter. He found the ground floor of a high-rise burst into flames, and a message was scrawled into the sidewalk. “The attacks will continue until Flare is released.”
“God damn cultists,” Michael muttered, hardening his skin and bursting into the building.
It looked like some type of bomb had gone off, scattering the furniture and collapsing part of the floor above. Michael frantically looked around the room but couldn’t find any survivors.
“Help!” a woman’s voice cried from the floor above.
Michael flew through the hole left by the bomb and found a woman holding a child trapped. He landed, his skin mostly returning to normal, and a pair of wings sprouted from his back.
“I got you,” he said, grabbing the woman’s hand.
He smashed through a nearby window, lifted the woman into the air, and jumped out, gliding to the ground.
She thanked him and moved to the other side of the street.
Michael nodded and dashed back in.
Half an hour later, he sat on the side of the road watching as the flames were extinguished. He had managed to save 13 people from the building, but three were still unaccounted for and most likely lay somewhere beneath the rubble.
“The Flare again, huh?” one firefighter said, reading what had been carved into the sidewalk.
“Every year like clockwork,” another said with a sigh.
“How does he keep getting more cultists?” Michael asked.
“Oh, I’m surprised you don’t know with your occupation.”
“Uh, I just started last week.”
The man let out a nervous chuckle. “Sorry about that. I saw you on the news with the Crimson Accord last week and just assumed you had been doing it for a while.”
Michael shook his head.
“Well, anyway, Brainwave, the superhero responsible for designing and sending out the frequency that allows power dampeners to work, has to recharge whatever runs the system once every year.”
“So, there is a short amount of time where villains can use their powers?”
“Bingo. Normally, it wouldn’t matter as it’s only a 30-second window, and he changes the time every year, but somehow, since he has been locked up, the Flare has noticed the opportunity and used it to get his hooks into as many unsuspecting victims as he can.”
“Why haven’t they given him the death penalty already?” the first firefighter asked.
“Believe me, I hear that, but rumor has it Solaris won’t let them, still convinced he can bring his friend back or something like that.”
Michael held back his disdain. Thousands of people are killed every year, and he is still holding on to some sentiment instead of putting a stop to it? “Thanks for the chat, but if there is nothing else you need, I should be on my way.”
“Yeah, you’re all good. Thanks for the help.”
“Yeah, thanks,” the second firefighter added.
Michael gave them a slight wave and blasted into the sky.