“Now let’s take a look at the new local superhero who dived into a burning building to save 13 lives yesterday, Tom.”
“That’s right, Sindy, the new breakout hero, Flux, could be seen on scene yesterday at the site of a Flare cutest attack. Sadly, three died in the accident, but it could have been much worse if Flux had not been there.”
“That’s right, Tom, and let me just take a moment to give our condolences to the victim’s family. In other news. Authorities now believe the fire at Brink Tower that claimed one life a few days back may also have been—”
A glowing blue card flew into a flatscreen TV placed on the wall of a luxury home theater, shattering it. Raymond cursed under his breath and pulled out his phone, scrolled through his contacts, and clicked on one labeled fixer.
It rang twice before a man with a gruff voice picked up. “Hello.”
“Hey, I’ve got a job for you.”
“What’s the pay?”
“Forty grand.”
The man on the other end whistled. “How many?”
“One that I know of, and I need you to find out how many more there are.”
“Got it, so who is the mark?”
Michael walked into a clothing store two days after the cult attack. His costume had begun to show apparent damage, and he needed to pick up some new items. First, he grabbed a new black, red, and green hoodie. Next, he found some athletic pants and a few more pairs of shorts. He had learned quickly that the full body suit was not a good idea, as any contact while his skin was hardened would cause it to rip near instantly. He checked out and sighed as he checked his wallet.
Saw’s card stopped working yesterday, and with that last purchase, he was down to only $176.43 remaining. He had hoped to get a proper suit made sometime soon, but it looked like he would need to figure out how to get on the government subsidy program used to pay all superheroes.
He stuck his new clothes in his backpack before wearing it in reverse as two wings sprouted from his back, and he took flight. I’ll have to figure that out today. He thought with a sigh. While he enjoyed helping people and would keep doing it no matter what, would it not be better to get paid for it as well?
He hovered over the city for a while, just taking everything in. Something slammed into his left wing, and he cried out in pain and began careening toward the ground. He tried to stabilize himself, but quickly realized a hole had opened in the wing. As the ground approached, he switched to his flame jets, cursing the time the holes took to open on his palms and at the last second. He shot two jets of flame downward, counteracting his momentum. He let out a sigh of relief and activated his premonition skill. He saw three distinct possibilities in front of him, two of which ended with a bullet ripping through his chest. Knowing the threat coming for him, he followed the third path, dashing into a nearby alley as another shot impacted behind him.
“Shit!” he cursed, diving further into the alley to make sure he was out of view.
His phone began to ring. He pulled it out of his pocket, saw it was an unknown number, and answered it while ducking behind a dumpster and keeping a close eye on his premonitions.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Flux, or should I say Michael Graves?”
“What the hell do you want?” Michael panicked. He had removed his mask one too many times, and it now seemed someone had figured out who he was. At least his identity meant nothing. It wasn’t like he had any family they could threaten.
“I want you to come out of that alley and surrender, Mr. Graves. You have made an old friend of yours very angry recently, but he is still willing to forgive you if you repent now.”
“You can tell Raymond to fuck off.” Michael hung up the phone and kept moving through the alley.
He saw a cook from a ground-floor restaurant hauling garbage to the dumpster. The cook looked to be around the same size as him, and, with a sigh, he snuck up behind the man.
“Sorry about this.”
“Wha–”
Michael placed the man in a chokehold, keeping him still until he lost consciousness. He then dragged the man behind the dumpster while making sure no one else was watching. He took the man’s clothes, putting them on himself and throwing his costume into his backpack. Next, he pulled his new green sweatshirt on and shoved his backpack under the dumpster, planning to come back for it later.
Making his way toward the opposite exit to the alley he completely powered off his phone and pulled his hood up as far as it would go. Then with a deep breath he watched his premonitions for a full 10 seconds and when he was sure it was safe, he stepped out, blending in with the crowd.
Michael kept moving for almost an hour before finally feeling safe enough to split from the crowd. He made his way into another back alley.
“Fuck,” he muttered as he clocked two men following him into the alley. He kept his pace steady until he came to a corner and bolted.
He was knocked onto his ass less than a second later as he ran into a mountain of a man.
“Hello, Mr. Graves,” the large man said in a gruff voice, which Michael had recognised from the phone call.
“Shit,” Michael kicked back to his feet and got into a fighting position.
“Oh, come now.”
Michael swung with full force, headlining his fist as wings sprouted from his body. He pivoted onto one foot and let a blast of flame loose, throwing an accelerated Superman punch. The man raised his arm to block. Michael felt the man’s bones shatter as the punch connected, but he did not stop there; his flame vents closed, and several cables shot from his hand, wrapping around the man’s shattered hand. With a flap of his wings, Michael yanked the sharpened cables back, severing the large man’s arm.
“Nice one,” the man said without batting an eye. He lifted what remained of his arm to eye level, showing it to Michael as his flesh twisted and formed back together, and soon after, he flexed a new hand.
No fucking way! Michael thought, gaping at the man. His thought raced, and he quickly made the choice to flee, flapping his wings and ascending into the air. A muffled gunshot echoed out from above, tearing through his left wing and sending him falling to the ground.
Michael grown and tried to push himself back to his feet as the large man and the two that followed him into the alley approached.
“Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Now let’s have a chat,” he said, crouching down to Michael’s eye level.
Michael eyed the three men and activated his premonition, but he could not see a path that didn’t end with him getting shot. “Fine, what the hell do you want?” he sighed.
The man stood to his full height and pulled a cigarette from a carton located in his coat pocket and held it out for one of the other men to light with a flame springing from his index finger.
“Originally, I came here to kill you,” he said, taking a long drag of the cigarette. “But after seeing what you can do.” He chuckled and lowered himself down to Michael’s level again. “So tell me, how did you get Green Eagle and Viperlash’s power?”
“Why should I tell you?”
The man shrugged. “It’s still not too late to kill ya.”
Michael sighed. “I got it from their corpses.”
“Hmm, I could work with that. So tell me, boy, how would you like to kill Raymond?”