“Have a good morning kids!”
Called out Lucas as he walked briskly out the front door. Tyler, his son, smiled at the man, glad he had awoken early that day. Summer or not, the teen was going to say goodbye at least. After all, he had seen firsthand just how bad it was starting to get in Garner.
Oh, if only he knew just how much worse it could get. Despite the feeling of nervousness in his chest, Tyler was a loyal son and knew what he had to do.
And once the older man’s car had exited the driveway, the teen quietly went to his room to suit up. Like it or not, he had made his choice. And again, though he never talked about it all very much, he worried greatly about his dad. He had heard stories about other cops from other departments and each of their fates. One who got his brains blown out by some meth-head, another gutted by a robber, resisting getting tazed through sheer force of will. To say it wasn’t easy to be in service was an understatement, to say the least.
And then there was the footage he saw on the news. People had seen him, and while he was no creature of the night, he was trying to avoid attention. Of course, like he normally would’ve expected, his “moral compass” outweighed his logical planning. So he would have to be fast, and that would be easy, but he was only a red belt in taekwondo. And even most black belts weren’t that fast.
“But am I really about to watch my dad kill himself over his job?” The teen interrogated himself.
Tyler gingerly pulled out his costume, taking notice of the minor hole near the chest of the suit from the week prior. He then told his sister he was going out to his treehouse, and if she needed anything, to just wait; he “needed some alone time.”
Emily only glanced up from her book dismissively. She didn’t mean anything by it; she loved to read, as did Tyler.
He dashed over to his room and threw on his suit, ski goggles, and all. He then fast-traveled back to the same Little Caesars’ rooftop as three days prior. There was a barely audible blip, and he was gone.
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He arrived atop the roof, just as he did the Friday before. He saw nothing of interest, but he waited. He remembered his dad mentioning that he always stopped at a coffee shop near Little Caesars, as per his usual route. Tyler watched closely, wondering if he was maybe too late.
“Not like dad to change his route, probably got hung up on patro-”
“Bam!”
A red car blitzed by as police cars tailed it, sirens blaring. He looked as best he could and saw the license plate of the vehicle leading the charge against the red escapee. It was his dad’s! Suddenly, there was a loud “Screech!” then a loud clatter.
Tyler looked in fear, seeing the sports car (a Porsche 911) had crashed, and four people had stumbled out, armed with guns and fleeing. Now, it could’ve been his eyes; the car was a good 100 yards away. But he could’ve sworn he saw one man step out with an AR. This put Tyler into a panic as he suddenly scurried down and, for some reason, started running, but as he ran, he felt fast. Like, inhumanly fast. As he dashed, he ran right past the car and nearly crashed into a road sign!
Thankfully, he stopped himself, but as he nearly locked eyes with the man with the AR, he panicked, for Tyler saw the man turn, not towards him, but towards his dad. Suddenly, before the gun’s trigger was even pulled, Tyler dashed in the way. Then, the gun fired off, but instead of hitting Lucas, it struck Tyler, not harming the teen’s skin, merely leaving a set of holes in his shirt’s abdomen.
The gunman dropped his weapon out of shock, as the teen lept and landed a miraculous flying kick. He nearly lost his balance upon landing, but managed to regain it as he bounced some volts off of a street sign, causing two of the other fleeing criminals to fall stiff, as if tazed. Then, the last criminal, a burly white man with an absurd number of tattoos on his arms, tried to pull out his pistol to shoot the teen. But his bullets did nothing, other than startle the teen and cause him to recoil.
But Tyler’s gut punch caused the man to double over and yell in pain, but thankfully, no bones in his body were broken. And as Tyler threw on the hood of his jacket and fled the scene, he heard a loud,
“Stop!”
But he had already disappeared.
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“What do you mean he just 'Disappeared?’”
Growled the chief, his grumbles echoing through his office.
“Chief Riley, look at the footage. We just pulled it from our body cams-” Muttered a younger officer before he was interrupted by a loud,
“Then the footage must’ve been corrupted. Someone isn’t just ‘bulletproof’! ” Overhearing the commotion, Lucas walked in.
“Just hear ‘im out, Chief.” He huffed, connecting a laptop via HDMI to show more of the footage.
It was there that the chief saw, with his own eyes, the power, the mystery, the impossible—someone who shoots lightning out of his hands? It must be fake. AI-generated, deepfaked, a trick of the light. But no. No, it wasn’t. The chief, the rookie officer, and Lucas knew. This was real. They were living through this.
And just as the shock began to leave the chief’s face, one of the lead Detectives, Casey Whiter, walked in, looking rather rushed.
“Excuse me, Chief, sorry to barge in, but we have visitors.” He tapped his foot rather hastily, looking almost scared. The chief sighed and took a sip of his coffee.
“If it’s the homeless people, tell them to go to Arby’s or hang out somewhere out of the way…” But before he could continue, there was a loud knock on the door, and Casey hastily opened it before leaving the room in haste. And three men, armed with SIG MCX assault rifles, wearing what appeared to be S.W.A.T. armor, approached.
But strangely enough, their armor wasn’t the usual navy color. It was primarily black and yellow, like the colors of a bee. There were also some white highlights along their masks, and they all wore the same logo on their shoulders. A black eagle, with black letters. V.I.C.E.
Those same letters also adorned their backs, in the same golden thread. These men all stood there, firm, authoritative, worthy of respect. The chief looked confused.
“Who are you? Who sent you-” Before the words were out of his mouth, one of the men, with what appeared to be a Halo printed on his armor’s shoulder, under his logo, handed Riley a letter. It read as such,
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Joel Bush. The President of the USA himself. Had personally written this letter for Riley. He was startled slightly, and to say he was wary would be a perfect description.
“This is so much at once…” Riley muttered. Sergeant Mackenzie approached him with a firm statement.
“The President wanted you to know as soon as possible. We do need the evidence; the people in DC will be able to track Suspect B quite easily. We just need evidence. Anything relevant to him.”
“So you’ve confirmed this individual is in fact male?” The former inquired.
The chief was still wary. And he got a simple, but worrying response,
“Yes, and while we do not have confirmation, considering the footage on the news, it is believed that he wields electricity, and not through conventional means like a taser.-”
“Hold on.” Interrupted Lucas, which earned him a glare from the Chief and the Sergeant.
“You mean, this random guy has superpowers? Like, a character from those movies?” His response was a calm,
“Yes.”
As if he were being told the weather. Lucas shuddered,
“So I wasn’t seein’ things? I saw him up close, Sergeant.”
The man in armor turned, the logo on his chest now more visible as he strode over.
“Oh? Well, if that’s the case… You need to hand over that.’ He gestured to the hard drive resting in the computer’s USB port.
Lucas looked rather startled, but ejected it and handed it over without hesitation. His boss also handed over a folder filled with some notes from the other officers at the scene.
“That should be everything, Sergeant. If you need more. Just contact me.” He handed over a business card, which the sergeant snatched with an almost aggressive motion, though this did not startle the chief, only confused him slightly. Though this feeling quickly wore off as the Sergeant talked one last time.
“Just know. We are willing to work together with you. But any interference will not be tolerated.’
He glared at the rookie, who was nearly biting his nails before immediately snapping to attention. The sergeant scoffed and dismissed his soldiers and himself, yet the tension lingered like a foul odor.
Sensing the need for calm, Lucas cleared his throat and was about to ask the chief if he and the rookie wanted a drink, but Riley coolly dismissed both of the men before any other words could be spoken.
As soon as the rookie stepped out, and Lucas went to his car, he sighed, confused as to what this “V.I.C.E..” wanted. He had never seen them before. And while he was certain that was the point, it still bothered him, but nevertheless, he moved on and went inside his car to go back on patrol.
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Tyler leaned back in his desk chair, as he had finally finished another Lego set of his. It was the Jazz Club set, and he just got the money to buy it. He smiled softly. Building sets always made him feel at peace. It was a big-time hyperfixation of his; his room was decorated with sets as long ago as 2015. All from various media, though it was primarily Minecraft and Marvel. He grinned as he gingerly picked up his set and set it on a shelf to the left of the desk, which was on the right side of his bedroom, adjacent to his bed. The shelf already had two smaller-sized Spider-Man sets from a few years ago. It was there that he placed his Jazz Club build.
He admired it for a good little while, lightly adjusting the placement of the minifigures. Once he was done, he plopped down on the right edge of his bed, and pulled out a box from under his bed. He pulled out a bottle cap from his pocket, from when he had a bottle of Coke earlier. He gingerly nestled it amongst the numerous other bottle caps and placed the box back under his bed.
He sighed, his mood beginning to sour. His eyes had landed on the costume he had strewn on his bed. Determined or not, it pained him to look at the jacket; those lightning bolts almost seemed to mock him. He groaned,
“I know it’s coming. I might as well…” He trailed off, grabbed his phone, and opened one of the first apps he had downloaded. A police radio app. It allowed him to listen to nearly first responder radio channel on the East Coast. He got it originally so he could listen to what his dad was up to. But now? It had an even more essential use.
He checked his “Favorite Channels” tab and tuned it, and as he sat there, overhearing the various buzzing noises, he grumbled to himself. The sound of static always bothered him, and especially at certain volumes, it was downright overwhelming. But as he managed to get a clearer signal, he heard his dad’s voice over the slowly fading static.
“10-82, individual with a firearm actively shooting at officers, near Crestwood Drive, Plaza apartments!” Tyler recoiled as he heard one last code before the radio cut out, “10-32, three units needed!”
“A shootout? Oh gosh… Oh no no no no no… No!” Tyler stammered as he hastily threw on his costume, pulling on his hood and ski goggles, and then pulled up Google Maps on his phone to search for Crestwood Drive.
He sighed with relief as he realized there was an Arby’s he had been to before that was close by. He took a shuddering breath and pictured the outside of the building with his mind. There was a flash, and he was gone.
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Tyler arrived at the front of the Arby’s and looked around, and he saw the treeline of Plaza Apartments. He looked terrified. He had overlooked that he would need to cross moving traffic. He shuddered.
“No… I got impulsive… I… I never get…”
He trailed off as he suddenly felt a spike of energy surging through his body, his breathing grew fast, as he felt the adrenaline rush through his blood. He took a deep breath, and suddenly, without warning, began running. But he felt so light on the ground, as if he ran any faster, he would take off. As he weaved around road signs, he skidded to a stop 10 blocks away from Crestwood Drive. It was then he heard gunshots, ringing out like bells.
And next, he smelled something burning. He looked down and saw that his shoes were smoking with fire!
He let out a panicked yelp and stomped his feet, extinguishing the fire. He huffed as he ran rather quickly, thankfully not setting anything else on fire, and not going beyond regular running speed, as he muttered,
“Super speed? Okay, maybe that will work out…” As he crept along, he saw the cop cars, the sounds of gunshots beginning to become overwhelming as his adrenaline petered out.
He hyped himself up through stretching before weaving around to get behind the supposed shooter. He was surprised, but not off-kilter, seeing three men. All armed with semi-automatic rifles. If he had to guess, they were M16s, and considering they were quality… Yes, they had been stolen. Regardless, Tyler leaped in, shocking one in the back of the neck, causing the other two to respond with bullets aimed at Tyler!
But they did nothing, other than put a few holes in the teen’s shirt, but he didn’t notice. He only bounced a bolt off of the ground like a ball, hitting one man in the chest with a sudden “Bzzt!”.
The last man standing made one effort to throw a punch at Tyler, but he missed and was kneed in the crotch, causing the attacker to double over and groan before giving up, not wanting to be pummeled anymore.
Tyler was just about to leave when he suddenly saw four men in golden-yellow armor arrive and suddenly drew their rifles. He froze, and in his panic, he ran off, speeding away. The men opened fire, but all missed as he hid behind a building (but not before extinguishing his shoes for the second time). He overheard the words being spoken as he noticed a fifth armored man arrive in an unmarked Hummer, with what appeared to be a patch with a monogrammed Halo on his shoulders.
The man was currently ranting to his dad! And oh boy, was the armored man furious.
“You just let a dangerous vigilante get away, we told you not to interfere, didn’t we?”
Lucas, who was barely shaking, nodded, now taking notice of his name tag, “Thomas.”
“Yes, Sergeant Thomas, you did. But we didn’t know he was coming. He came out of nowhere.” But the man in armor had lost his patience, as he ordered his men to sweep the area.
“Leave nothing left behind. Find the suspect, now! The longer he’s out here, the more people he puts in danger.” This command made Tyler decide to leave, but just before he could, he overheard one last thing from his father.
“Sergeant, with all due respect. It seemed he was… Protecting me and the other officers earlier. Do you have any clue as to why?”
This earned Lucas a sudden grab by the collar, which took him quite by surprise as he was pinned against his car. The other officers drew their guns, but the nearby V.I.C.E. soldiers ordered them to drop them. Thomas growled,
“He is a dangerous individual; we made that clear. He doesn’t want to help you. And if you dare, defend that vigilante and question my authority? I will stuff a grenade in your mouth and mail you to your Superiors! Am I Understood?”
Lucas was about to respond, arguing that the Sergeant was breaking the law, but realizing that he had no authority to do so, he stayed silent. But this? This didn’t sit well with Tyler, muttering,
“Oh HECK NO.”
Quickly storming forward as he suddenly stood right in front of the soldiers and charged up an attack. The other soldiers turned to open fire, but before they could even pull their triggers…
“CRASH!” He suddenly blasted the soldiers with a massive bolt of lightning, hitting all the soldiers as it ricocheted. Then, Tyler ran forward, boosted by his newfound superhuman speed, and threw a punch at Thomas, sending the armored man flying backward into an adjacent police car, denting it, and damaging his armor.
As Tyler fast-traveled away, the Sergeant yelled angrily,
“Damn it all!” He picked himself up, noticing the gaping dent, nearly a hole, in the chestplate of his armor.
“Come on, men. Let’s make a report and leave.” He turned towards Lucas, and despite his helmet, you could feel the anger radiating from his body as he got in his car, and got a clipboard, leaving the officers to make a report awkwardly with the soldiers, the tension never leaving, until V.I.C.E. was done making their report.
Lucas sighed, exhausted, as he tended to his colleagues, making sure they were not injured. He was confused, even more so than earlier.
“Who was that person? Why did he want to help me? Why did he only attack the criminals and V.I.C.E.? Does he know something about them? And why try stuffing a grenade in my mouth?” Lucas’s mind had never gotten this fogged up before, as he radioed to base, sounding exasperated.
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Tyler dropped his costume on his desk, now noticing the bullet holes in the shirt and jacket. His eyes widened with surprise. He faceplamed and groaned,
“No… Come on… How did I notice these?” He then noticed more that seemed to be too numerous for the time before, and he noticed damage from what appeared to be shotgun pellets, likely from the incident at Five Guys.
“Darn it.” He muttered, digging out some thread and a needle, as it was the only way he could fix the clothes.
He was lucky he still had sewing materials from one of his classes the previous school semester. And while he wasn’t a master seamster, he could fix the holes. Though it was then he learned a nasty surprise. Despite his resistance to bullets, the needle still pricked, and almost immediately Tyler pricked himself.
He huffed out an “Oh brother,” as he began stitching the shotgun damage first. Then he moved onto the rifle holes left in his Flash shirt. He reached for the yellow thread and stitched it up gently, hoping he wouldn’t run out of it. He had very little to begin with.
Eventually, all the damage done to his costume had been nearly fixed. But as he put the last stitch into his shirt, he pricked himself one final time.
“Ow.” He calmly muttered, more annoyed than pained. It didn’t hurt horribly. But it was annoying trying to stitch up a shirt and pricking your fingers every five minutes.
He sighed. He never wanted to do this. Never wanted to be on the news. Never. And yet, here he was, a government organization after him, and his father now in danger. To say he was furious would be the understatement of the century.
“I wanted to stay out of this. I’m unqualified, I really am. But, you know what? What choice do I have? These… V.I.C.E. forced me out. Like a mouse.” Tyler rolled his eyes, in his atypical manner, as he finally finished the stitches. Setting his costume on his bed, he looked back at the Spider-Man poster. He growled,
“This is so dumb. Why couldn’t I have his powers? Instead of being a whitewashed Static Shock?” He angrily shoved the costume under his bed. He put on his headphones and played some calm Jazz.
The headphones were decked out in various Minecraft and FNAF stickers. He gently exhaled as he lay back on his bed, his body easing, and the stress fading like smoke. “Finally,” He sighed.
“An escape.”
He groaned as his phone suddenly began ringing, the soft, synth notes of his ringtone playing both on his phone and in his headphones. He checked to see who it was. He gained a small smile, looking at the screen, finally seeing who was calling him.
It was his friend, Dante. In fact, Dante was honestly his only friend, and one of the few people at their school who didn’t constantly belittle him for being smart. And despite hating phone calls, Tyler didn’t mind talking to him.
So the teen picked up the phone.
“Hey dude… You holding up okay?” He inquired. He knew that Dante was a bit repressive, and he didn’t blame him. They both got regularly harassed by the other students; it was quite unfair. Dante responded with a surprisingly energetic,
“Hell yeah. I’m just binging some shows. What’s up with you?”
Tyler chuckled. Despite Dante’s foul mouth, he wasn’t that bad of a guy, and was, at the very least, polite to Tyler’s parents, somehow keeping his mouth clean around him. Regardless, the two were very close. Their friendship was going well, despite living 30 minutes away from each other.
“Be thankful my phone isn’t on speaker. I don’t want you and I getting chewed out by my mom.” Tyler chuckled.
Dante also laughed, muttering, “As different as we are… We both got short-fused moms, Compañero. What can I say?” The teen paused as he took a sip from his fruit punch.
Tyler got slightly giddy as he inquired,
“Hey, have you seen the new Spider-Verse movie?”
Dante let out an incredulous laugh, and you could tell by his voice that he was smirking.
“Are you kidding me? That’s the first good superhero movie we’ve had all year! You know Quatimania sucked di-”
But Dante was cut off by Tyler, replying resoundly,
“That whole movie ruined MODOK. How in the world do you ruin MODOK?! He’s just a mutated smart guy. At least Guardians 3 was a nice ending. It was just absolutely wonderful!”
Tyler raised his hands in joy; the movie truly was a pleasant ending to the Guardians of the Galaxy movie trilogy. But then he heard Dante sigh, exasperated.
“I dunno, dude. The more I look at what’s been going on, I feel like… Superheroes are overused and.. Ah.. Wait, what’s that other word…” Dante trailed off, he had a habit of forgetting some words. “Starts with an ‘oh’?”
Tyler beamed, explaining, “You mean overrated?”
Dante snapped his fingers, letting out an excited and exasperated,
“¡Mierda! How could I forget?” He chuckled, but Tyler interrupted him, giving a counterargument.
“I get it, I understand why you feel that way, but the year isn’t over. Have some faith!”
Dante scoffed, muttering,
“A bit weird coming from you, but listen. I know Marvel’s makin’ some bank, but DC is Fumbling! You saw the final season of The Flash, didn’t you?!”
The former groaned,
“Oh, please. Don’t remind me of that! The writing was so, so bad! The only reason why I didn’t shut off my TV was because Grant’s acting was the only good thing.”
Dante cut him off, his Puerto Rican accent coming out, “But aren’t you forgetting those strikes up in Hollywood? All those writers are pissed, bro!” Tyler nodded and muttered to himself,
“Well, yeah, but-” He was cut off again by his friend,
“And the problem isn’t even on Snyder this time! It’s freakin’ WB! If they keep this **** up? Firin’ all these writers? We’re in trouble, I don’t know what to tell ya.”
Tyler groaned,
“I know, I know. But maybe there’s hope somewhere?” He grabbed a water bottle that was sitting on his desk from earlier that day. He took a sip and continued,
“I mean… They could make a good movie soon… Though those Flash movie trailers.. Look… Underwhelming.” He huffed as he looked at the calendar hanging above his desk, the dates scratched out up to June 2nd.
Dante grumbled harshly,
“I mean, the earlier reviews aren’t that bad. But still, you know I f*** hate Ezra Miller. He can barely act for ****.”
This caused Tyler to chortle lightly,
“Okay, I get it. You aren’t excited. But look, what if I ask my mom to talk to yours and we could… See it together? I’d love to see a movie with you!”
Dante grinned and huffed,
“Okay, you win… I’ll go see it. Only cause you’ll be there. We can both hate it together! What would be a good time for them?” Dante’s voice seemed far more cheery now. He definitely was in a more energetic spirit.
“I’ll have to talk with them,” Tyler looked at his calendar, and lifted to the June page,
“Probably the 17th… Though my dad DOES have a meeting then so it might be Sunday. I’ll need you to talk to your mom though.”
Dante nodded and replied,
“Eh, ‘kay. I’ll talk with my mom. If you can convince your mom, I’m sure mine won’t care- What?”
Judging by the distant voice on his end, Dante seemed to have been called out to by someone.
“Hello? Dante, you alright?” Tyler inquired. He was then met with a response.
“Sorry. I gotta run. Mom’s yellin’ at me to get the basura out of the damn kitchen. I’ll go ask her. Later!”
Tyler chuckled, a tad amused by Dante and his mother’s profanity.
“So long! I’ll ask my mom too.”
Then he hung up. He overheard his mom call him to the kitchen as well. Knowing her, Pamela probably needed help reaching something.
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Two hours had passed since the incident with V.I.C.E., and Tyler was reading The Hunger Games. But as he finished the 10th chapter, his phone buzzed again. His dad was calling in for backup. This time, it was an armed robbery. Tyler looked worried.
“Dad can handle it. I… I’m sure he doesn’t need my help.”
But still worried about his dad, he tuned in anyway. And it was a good thing he did. As he overheard what sounded like a loud “Boom!” come from the other end.
He hastily pulled a couple of boxes out from under his bed, looking desperately for his costume. He threw it on as he heard his dad’s voice bark from the other end,
“10-45! Assailants have fired off an explosive! Location is PNC Bank, 1027 US-70!” The sound of gunfire echoed in the background of the transmission.
Tyler didn’t bother to hear the rest as he hastily threw on his suit. He then checked his phone like before, found a grill he had been to before near the scene, took a deep breath, and he was gone in a short, almost inaudible “Blip!” of electricity.
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When Tyler arrived at the grill, he growled, knowing he’d have to use his super speed.
“So much for keeping these shoes intact.” He huffed, dashing as fast as he could, getting there near instantly. By the time he arrived, he stomped his feet, extinguishing the fire, and it was then he heard another explosion.
His heart dropped, and he covered his ears. He wasn’t even that close. But that didn’t matter. No amount of adrenaline could shake away the fear. He almost sobbed from the shock. He had felt this way before. There had been many times in the past when loud noises agitated him. But this? It was nothing like before. And it confused him. How in the heck could he not have been bothered by the gunshots before? They seemed quieter then. Was it the prior adrenaline? Was it his mind being focused on something else? He couldn’t tell. Another explosion silenced his confused thoughts.
“Gah!” He yelped.
The noise had pushed Tyler far enough. And like it or not. He had to go in. No matter how much his mind was shutting down. He wasn’t letting Lucas die. He wasn’t going to sit back and do nothing. So, despite his ringing ears, flooding tears, and shaking body, he marched forward, spotting a back door through the haze of his tears.
He bolted forward, propelled by his superspeed, and crashed through the door. He gasped and noticed a throbbing in his arms.
“Aw flip. I need to move, now.” He tried his very best to ignore the loud gunfire, now causing his focus to be severed, but still, he kept moving.
He entered another door, and he saw them. The Assliants. To his left, random men, scattered about, each in vibrant ski masks, all armed with automatic weapons. And ahead of them were five officers, all armed with their semi-automatic rifles. Through the smoke and noise, Tyler saw him. Lucas, his father, somehow evading the lead rain coming from in front of him.
That was all the boy needed to see as he desperately threw a ricochet of lightning, striking all the men, causing them to convulse and drop their weapons. But two, both burly with black masks, managed to get themselves up, but were immediately stopped by the cops. With no options left, they surrendered.
But before Tyler could fast-travel back, he was met with a loud,
“There he is! Shoot him!” He turned, panicked, as he saw five men in golden armor face him.
It was V.I.C.E.! The teen desperately tried to fast-travel back, but despite the picture in his mind, his body seemed to refuse, as the armored men opened fire directly at the teen!
Unsure of what to do, Tyler decided to run, and finally, his powers worked. He rocketed forward and threw a blind swing, impacting a solider, causing armor to shatter, and the teen managed to get out of sight and fast-traveled back home, much to the flabbergast of the others. As they began radioing for backup, the soldier, Sergeant Thomas, picked himself up, and gave a sharp command.
“Boys, call off the backup. He’s long gone by now. We need to send a message up the chain of command, up to Director Andres. We need more than soldiers. We need to regroup first. Much more involvement is needed than originally speculated. It’s clear now that Suspect B is a much bigger threat.”
He gingerly removed the shattered chunks of armor from the ground and put them into a small bag, muttering,
“That’s twice now.” As he walked towards his truck, he growled again,
“If only he would just send one of the Special Ops members for this. We’re wasting resources.”
Thomas shut the door to his truck and drove off, with three other black and gray vans following closely behind.
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Tyler sighed, looking at the shards of armor stuck in his suit, along with the various bullet holes in the jacket sleeves. Not to mention the shoes, which now had singed soles. Nothing too severe, but still enough to remind Tyler to remember not to use his super speed.
“This is so stupid.” He growled.
“I’m lucky it was just me they shot at.” He huffed, and suddenly the ceiling fan’s lightbulb above him flickered.
He groaned and began working on the stitches, his hands beginning to shake in distress. He was on the verge of tears. He was so confused. Why were his powers suddenly out of control? Why did the noise now start bothering him? Why did he feel so drained this time?
“I could’ve gotten dad killed…” Tyler continued to spiral, as he worked, until eventually, he became overwhelmed, throwing the sewing needle into an adjacent wall. He then found a nearby pillow and screamed into it,
“GOSH-DANG IT, WHY IN THE HECK DIDI HAVE TO GET POWERS?!” He sighed, on the verge of screeching actual profanity.
“I give up.”
He sobbed into the pillows. His tears ran a salty taste almost into his mouth, prompting his mood to get even worse.
Throughout the course of his life, Tyler always tended to spiral, and felt guilt far more intensely than most. It also didn’t help that mentally, he was different from a lot of people, and it led to lots of problems. That being said, like in the present, his “Meltdowns”. And in combination with his powers? It caused to angrily yell and fast-travel, unprompted into his treehouse.
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The familiar air of the treehouse’s interior enclosed Tyler, like a comforting hug. Despite the intimacy of his bedroom, the place where Tyler found the most safety was this old, wooden, pint-sized home, built between two well-sized white oak trees. Tyler walked over to his chalkboard. Though he didn’t draw much (that was more Dante and Emily’s thing), he enjoyed drawing spirals and various shapes, or just rolling the chalk in his hand, the texture soothing to his mind and body.
And as he began to draw the shapes, it began to soothe his mind. His meltdown cooling, and his tears drying, but with that came exhaustion, but despite his body beginning to slow down, he kept doodling, until he took a deep breath and set the chalk down.
“No jitters?” He mumbled.
“Good.” He picked himself up and strided over the ladder, skipping the occasional step as he descended. Once he reached the ground, he then noticed a box of garden tools, out of place, by a random bush. They were most likely left out by his mom.
Despite working from home, she managed to find time to garden, growing Cherry Tomatoes in their backyard. And despite not being excellent at it, his mother was a hard worker. That, and she liked showing off her work to all the mom groups on Facebook.
“She must’ve been cutting it close to her lunch break, huh?” Tyler picked them up and set them under his family’s back deck.
“Back where you belong.” He chuckled.
He then returned indoors via the back door and walked back inside, to return to his sister. He had barely said a word to her all day. Like him, Emily tended to be a bit of a shut-in most days. But unlike most people her age, she wasn’t mindlessly watching a tablet. No, she was most likely sketching the birds and other animals from outside, or from the pictures in the National Geographic books Tyler had lent her.
“Knock-knock, it’s me.” He joked, “Your least-favorite member of this household.”
“That’s not true, silly! I love you! You’re fun.” Jested Emily.
“Really? You like me? Why?” Tyler jested self-depricatingly.
“I’ll give ya five reasn’s.” Emily bit back, folding her hand into a fist.
Tyler jumped slightly, not realizing Emily was joking at first, but quickly calmed down, huffing,
“Okay, you made your point. What are you up to?” Tyler peeked slightly, peerking up.
“Oh wow, is that a Hummingbird sketch?” He pondered.
“You betcha. I found it on this ‘ere page.” Emily rambled on, and Tyler listened with great interest, letting the time slip by.
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“Oh, you’ve got to be jokin’. Regroup for an idear?” Groaned Andres, his Boston accent coming out in white-hot anger. He threw down the report angrily.
“Fawty years I’ve been at this ****. And now does some kid cause me trouble?”
He growled as he then heard a knock on the door, causing him to bite his lip in earnest. He told them to enter, and in walked the one man who had any authority over him. Tall, leering eyes, hair even grayer than Andrew’s, Obsidian eyes, wrinkles across his tan skin, and a gray checkered suit adorning him.
The Chairman, Mark Hansen.
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and then Add to home screen.