Gigaheroes

Chapter Two

Chapter Two: Seattle Vance

They say guns are the great equalizers. Well, I’ve got news for you. They’re not. Maybe for a child and an adult. Maybe for men and women. Maybe for a normal and someone with a class one superpower. But for a normal and a class three or above? Yeah, no chance. 

I barely looked up from the table when I saw a guy in purple spandex appear right next to my friend. 

“Oh shi—” was all Jonas got out before purple guy took him. 

“We’re being attacked!” I yelled to the rest of the room, pulling out my pistol. All I had was a 45. ACP, it could pretty much take out anyone with a well-placed shot. Anyone except those with class three superpowers. 

Gunfire erupted down the hall. I thought it was the purple guy again, but I smelled ozone and my hairs stood on end. There was a bright flash, and I heard screaming. 

“Fall back!” I yelled, though I knew it was pointless. 

Class three meant combat capable. Class three meant a person who could fight a fully armed platoon and single-handedly win. 

The few men in the room all started running for the escape hatch. It led into a tunnel that went straight out into the harbor where motorboats were waiting. If they could reach the end, my men might have a chance. The last person jumped in. He looked back at me, holding the hatch open. 

“Go!” I yelled. “I’ll try to buy you time!”

I looked around the room. We had set up with the homeless in an abandoned apartment complex, hoping it wouldn’t attract attention. There were a lot of such places in City 57. Though the walls were falling apart and the place was filled with mold, it had been a good hideout. Sadly, it hadn’t been good enough. 

I threw up the table as a barricade and blocked the door to the hallway. Quickly pulling a rug back over the hatch, I took my position in the corner of the small kitchen of the apartment. The living room was small, with two adjoining bedrooms that were filled with crates containing food, clean water, and clothing. A lot of credits were supposed to be made here. Now, it was all going to be confiscated by the ASA. 

I prayed they wouldn’t look around too hard. My eyes fell to the floorboards. It was carefully hidden. There was one item that I couldn’t afford to lose today. I gritted my teeth. No choice but to roll those dice. 

I lifted my pistol and waited for purple guy to appear again. A few seconds later, he did. I unloaded my gun into him, but he kept teleporting quickly around the room. Super powers bypass conventional human instincts. It was clear there was no way my bullets were going to hit him. He was just trying to make me empty my magazine and then grab me. I stopped. It was pointless. 

“Won’t you come easily?” He asked. 

“What did you do to my friend?” 

“I didn’t make him go splat, if that’s what you’re worried about. I only killed the guys guarding the front door.”

“Fuck you!” I shot another bullet at him for all the good it did. 

The table came crashing into the room, and a man with a lightning costume walked in. I wish that they would’ve just done a drone strike on the building. It wouldn’t be as humiliating as getting whipped by two guys playing dress up. 

I unloaded the rest of my pistol at lightning man, but each bullet was struck out of the air by sparks of electricity. He didn’t even need to move. He simply raised his hand, ready to blast me. 

“We going to kill him?” Purple spandex asked. 

“Nah, this guy looks like the leader. They’re going to want him for questioning.”

I tried reloading, but a jolt of lightning knocked me to the floor. My head was spinning. My pistol fell out of my weak hands. 

I recall being picked up by the lightning guy and then both of us being teleported outside. Reporters snapped shots of us and the dead bodies, the tasteful corpses anyway. Some of the charred remains were too graphic to put on the news. It might’ve made them look bad. The lightning man held me up by the hair as he gave a quick interview. 

Slobber dribbled down my chin. I remember throwing up on the pavement, and then I was shoved into the back of an armored truck. 

…

It was several more minutes before I came to again. My head was pounding, and I groaned as I blinked my eyes, trying to clear up my vision. The purple guy was sitting in the truck with me as we were being driven to the nearest interrogation center. I shook my head and vomited again on the floor truck. That seemed to be the last of it. I sighed with relief. I noticed I was bound in handcuffs. I wiped the dribble off my mouth with my shoulder. 

“Mind if I smoke?” I asked. 

Purple spandex shrugged his shoulders. He had taken off his mask, revealing a young face that couldn’t have been older than twenty. His brown hair was smooth and glossy, likely the result of a dozen different shampoos and conditioners. Some of it was combed to fall over one eye. His hairdresser was clearly going for the bad boy look, and it was failing badly. His soft features made him look more like a sad puppy. The only thing off-putting were his crimson red eyes, which were the only mildly fearsome thing about him. 

I couldn’t bring myself to hate him after seeing that. He wasn’t a believer. He was just someone trying to survive. 

I ruffled through my coat and pulled out a lighter and cigarette. Some men have trouble moving about in handcuffs. I had plenty of experience. I puffed on the smoke for a few minutes, enjoying the burn in my chest. 

“When did they take you?” I asked. 

“What?”

“What age did they take you? Kids with super powers don’t get to grow up with parents.”

“Six.”

I nodded my head in thought. That was sooner than most. Powers start manifesting around four or five. Usually, the parents could keep it hidden for a few years. At least, if they didn’t hand the child over to the Abnormal Service Agency like the self-righteous little citizens they were. 

But the ASA was good at their job and kids were terrible at keeping secrets. Most wound up in the state’s “generous” care before long. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry about what?”

“Sorry you never got to have a childhood. I was much the same way. It’s a tough hand to be dealt.” I offered the cigarette over to purple spandex. “Want a puff?”

“I’m not allowed.”

I rolled my eyes. “They aren’t watching all the time. You can cut loose.”

Purple spandex pointed to a sleek watch on his wrist. 

“Oh,” I said. “I guess they are.”

We rode in silence for a little ways. I continued enjoying my cigarette, fully aware of the irony of the situation. He was the hero, and yet he was riding in the same truck as me. I knew the business very well. Behind all the glamor, superheroes were kept on a very short leash. They walked that thin line of being too dangerous for society and too powerful for the system to pass up. I pitied this young man. He had never known freedom. 

“They all resent you,” I began speaking. “You should know that. I saw how the police officers were looking at you when they put you in here with me. They hate you because you’re a walking contradiction to the lie we were brought up to believe. All men are not created equal, and they hate you because you can do something they can’t.”

The kid remained silent. 

“But they’re not as bad as the sycophants who eat up your every little exploit. The ones who eat up government propaganda and every news headline like it’s the Bible. They spend their lives wanting to be you, and you just want to scream at them the truth. It’s all squalid, right up to the very top.”

Purple spandex winced, and I smiled, knowing I finally hit something real. 

“I am loyal to the people of the Democratic Union. You are a dangerous terrorist.” The kid rattled the line off as if he were a wind-up toy. 

“I’m far worse than a terrorist.” I chuckled. “I’m an American. That’s the one thing you are not allowed to be in this society of ours.”

“Shut up.” The kid finally had enough.

I raised my cuffed hands in surrender. I lifted a finger. “Just one more thing… I want you to know you’re not the only one who can do cool stuff.”

Purple spandex raised an eyebrow.

“I can teleport too.”

I vanished from the truck. 

Of course, I didn’t really teleport. If I had that ability, it would’ve made my life so much easier. Instead, all I got was a paltry class two invisibility… but it did have its advantages from time to time. 

The kid’s eyes went wide. To his credit, he didn’t immediately panic. He reached out with his arm, checking if I was still there. He had a good head on his shoulders, but not good enough to realize what he should’ve done. I yanked my handcuffs around his neck and started choking him. 

Suddenly, we were outside of the truck and in the street. I grinned. Instinct overrode sense. He was just trying to get away, and he accidentally pulled everything with him. I let him go and pushed him into the asphalt. His watch was already squeaking and the police convoy was putting on the brakes, but it didn’t matter. 

I ran onto the sidewalk and dodged between people. Having done this for years, I was skilled enough to pass through the afternoon rush without touching anyone. They would close down several city blocks, of course. But by then, I would be long gone. 

Link to Chapter Three