King of superheroes, p.1
King of Superheroes, page 1
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Chapter One
“Are you gonna stand around all day, or actually do something to warrant a pay check?”
The gruff voice of my boss pulled me out of my thoughts, and I cleared my throat as he stalked past me with his bushy eyebrows pulled down in a frown on his weathered forehead.
It was the summer after I graduated college, and I was currently trapped in my own personal hell. I was stuck in the world’s most dead-end job, my apartment was tiny and wedged above a bar that made my floorboards creak well into the early hours of almost every morning, and worst of all, I was bored.
“Sorry, Henry,” I said to my boss as he shuffled behind the old wooden counter. “I was just going to sort through the new arrivals.”
“I wanted that display up before lunch,” Henry grumbled. “And so far, I’ve got fifty hardback books still sitting in a cardboard box.”
“I’ll get right on it,” I promised.
I’d graduated with a mostly useless degree in Business, and here I was, stacking books. It was the only semi-decent job I’d managed to find for someone fresh out of college and unactivated, so I was stuck in a tiny little basement bookstore that I was surprised was even still running.
Especially in an age rife with E-books, YouTube content, fanfics, and even prewritten Dungeons & Dragons templates.
And yet, somehow, my old grouch of a boss had been in dire need of someone who didn’t really give a shit, so I’d landed a full-time job where I was lost amongst dusty old books and even dustier customers.
I scurried down to the basement, where the light flickered of its own accord and made the place look like the set of a straight to TV horror movie, and hauled the cardboard box of books up the rickety wooden stairs.
I set up station by the central display table, studiously ignored one of our regulars who tended to stare with maybe a bit too much intensity, and got to work. Henry had the radio turned up to almost full volume as he pored over his stack of invoices, and I found myself zoning out and listening to the news reporter as I organized the books with a vacant expression on my face.
“-- and this comes just weeks after Thunderbolt fixed the power grid in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, using her infamous and impressive Conduit ability. WVEZ caught Thunderbolt for an exclusive interview after her heroics, and she had this to say.”
I wrinkled my nose as Thunderbolt’s smug, overly media trained voice suddenly sounded over the radio, and I shook my head and continued with my book display.
I couldn’t help but feel an annoyingly strong pang of jealousy toward the superhero community.
I’d had the maybe naive thought that, after college and precisely after my twenty-first birthday, I’d have some sort of power activate within me. Especially considering how almost my entire family belonged to the Conduit pillar, same as the famous Thunderbolt.
But no such luck.
Not everyone was guaranteed superpowers, and certainly no one was guaranteed abilities that the government deemed employable, but I came from a strong line of Conduits, so I’d hoped and prayed I would get a ticket out of the mundane life I was currently stuck in.
I’d read an article somewhere about how there were more people with activated powers than ever before, about twenty-five percent of the current population, so that caused even more frustration for me. Powers were hereditary, too, so with two Conduit parents, I’d hoped for something cool, yet here I was, stacking books.
The Conduits were one of four main superhero pillars. They possessed the ability to manipulate power itself, whether it was lightning like Thunderbolt, or fire-breathing, or even man-made electricity.
The three other pillars were just as interesting, though.
The Tempests controlled the air, and some of the most famous powers were flying or telekinesis. The Corps held powers tied to the body, like super strength, or speed, or invisibility. And then there were the Dreamers, those who could manipulate the mind with illusions, hypnosis, and I was sure I’d read somewhere how there were Dreamers who could fully control other people’s minds.
“Mark!” I heard my boss’ voice ring out again, and I blinked when I heard my name.
“Sorry, Henry!” I called back and forced another smile on my face.
“Before lunch, I said!” my boss grumbled, and he rolled his eyes as he pulled his pants as high as they could possibly go, readjusted his faded blue suspenders on his shoulders, and then shuffled off again.
The radio beside the cash register continued to crackle and fill the shop with a glory piece on the current big superheroes, and Thunderbolt’s little sound bite was only the first interview of many. As I arranged, and then rearranged, my hardback centerpiece on the old wooden table that acted as the shop’s main attraction, I listened to the smarmy voice of Seeker explain in great detail how important his role was in bringing down a local terrorist group.
Seeker was a Dreamer, and his power allowed him to seek the truth by just speaking to people. His Dreamer ability meant he was able to dig around inside people’s heads as easy as rifling through an ex’s social media messages, and he’d captured the head of the terrorist group and interrogated the group’s leader until they’d practically gone crying to Homeland Security and begging for incarceration.
“-- There have been several lobbyists calling for reform on the use of your powers, particularly, Seeker,” the radio host said in a voice that couldn’t hide the knowing smile he had to be wearing. “But I know you don’t see it that way.”
“Not at all,” Seeker replied easily, as if they were discussing the weather, and I grimaced as Henry fiddled with the dial on the radio to clear the signal. “This group was planning an attack on a major city, and I stopped them. Regardless of how, that’s what is most important here. And although I understand how quickly a keyboard warrior can stir the masses, it’s worth remembering how valuable my services would’ve been in stopping countless past tragedies.”
“What is your response to the forums that think Superheroes should be held more accountable for their actions?” the radio host asked.
“I can’t please everyone,” Seeker said. “But that isn’t my job. My job is to protect our great country from potential threats, and I shall continue to do so.”
“And do you have an inside scoop on the whispers circulating the same forums, about the rise of another supervillain organization?”
“No.” Seeker let out an easy chuckle before he continued. “The Federation continues to train young fledglings, as you well know, because the best defense is a good offense. But since the Antis were brought to their knees five years ago, we’ve enjoyed an extended time of peace. And I, for one, intend to keep it that way.”
“Well, folks, you heard it here first,” the host said. “That was Seeker, giving WVEZ an exclusive interview, and I believe we have a number of callers on the line with burning questions for you, Seeker, so let’s go to line one where we have--”
I tuned out the radio as I finally managed to organize the hardback display in the way I knew Henry wanted it, and I took a step back to admire my handiwork.
I was just about to call out to my boss to get his approval when I felt a sudden tap on my shoulder, and I whirled around to find the face of our creepy regular uncomfortably close to my own.
“Oh!” I faltered and took a step back. “Sorry, sir, I didn’t see you there.”
“I need your help,” the raggedy old customer muttered in a hoarse voice.
“Well, sure, what can I do for you?” I asked and took another step back away from his grizzly old face.
He smelled like malt liquor and stale cigarettes, and I grimaced as his stale breath fanned over my face while he followed my steps. He kept his hand on my shoulder, and his bony fingers gripped at me with surprising strength.
I’d seen him in the shop several times before, but he’d never spoken to me, and now that he had, I could see he wasn’t entirely right in the head. His eyes were fogged and glassy, and though his gaze was fixed upon my face, it felt like he was just staring straight through me. His teeth were yellowed and cracked, his lips were dry like he hadn’t had a sip of water in a decade, and his grip on my shoulder tightened.
“I need your help,” he repeated. “I need a book.”
“Well, you’re in the right place,” I said with a fake smile that was becoming harder and harder to keep on my face.
I looked past the old drunk to the counter, in the hopes I could motion to Henry for help, but my boss was still busy with his antiquated radio.
“I need a book on… On…” The drunkard sniffed, and his mouth fell open slightly as he thought about it. “Superheroes.”
“Well, we have a whole section--”
“No,” he interrupted me. “Super. Heroes.”
“Yes, sir, we have a whole section on superheroes, was there one in particular you were after?” I asked, and I couldn’t quite keep my customer service smile in place any longer as frustration took its place.
The drunk took another step forward, and he eventually stumbled into me with such sudden force we both collided with the heavy wooden table that I’d organized the new hardback collection on.
We both tumbled over into the display. The books clattered to the floor as the old guy staggered away from me with a strained groan, and I shot my hands out to steady myself.
Really wish I hadn’t, though.
I felt a sudden surge of energy course through every single vein in my body, which ended up as a sharp white heat that painfully seared through my bloodstream. I heard myself cry out in surprise, and my arms locked at the elbows as the river of energy sought a way to release itself.
Which it did, in the form of bright orange flames.
“Shitttt…” I heard myself groan, though I don’t remember my brain telling my mouth to vocalize the sentiment.
The fire shot uncontrollably out from my fingertips like water from a faucet, but as soon as it had started, the river of flames suddenly stopped.
Time seemed to slow for just a moment, and I stared at the table in shock as the flames spread hungrily through the book collection. The entire display table was alight with fire, and before I could even gather myself, Henry came barreling toward me with an old red fire extinguisher held aloft in both hands.
I’d never seen my old boss move so quickly before, and his bushy eyebrows were still pulled down in the same frown that was a standard on his face. Then he shoved me out of the way with his shoulder so he could put out the fire I’d somehow started.
“Oof!” I let out a huff as Henry pushed me.
For the second time this morning, I collided with the old drunk behind me, and instead of having a table to break our fall, the two of us ended up stumbling into one of the huge wooden bookshelves that lined the shop floor.
They were huge floor-to-ceiling type fixtures Henry hadn’t ever had the foresight to nail into the ground, so as I fell into it, the whole thing shuddered and groaned until it started to wobble.
I instinctively shot my arms out again, and I sent a damn prayer up to whatever god was listening that I didn’t have more fire come spouting out of my outstretched fingertips. There was no way I was going to be able to stop the bookshelf’s fall, but it was an instinctive move to try and protect both myself and the drunk who was already sprawled on the floor.
The bookshelf came down before I could get out of its way, and as I braced myself for an impact that was almost definitely gonna cause some sort of broken bone, I extended my hands further to grab onto the old wood.
I squeezed my eyes shut as my hands came into contact with the old shelf, but I felt no pain. No impact wounds, no strain on my biceps, no loud thud, just a bunch of books that slid unceremoniously off the shelves and onto the floor.
I opened one eye, with my arms still outstretched, and then opened the other when I realized I was standing in the middle of the bookstore holding up an antique seven-foot bookshelf that weighed a couple hundred pounds.
But it somehow felt lighter than the cardboard box I’d hauled up from the basement earlier. Probably because of the adrenaline still pumping through my body.
Henry whirled around once he’d finished putting out the fire I’d started, and for the first time in a long time, his frown gave way to a look of genuine surprise.
“Mark!” he muttered as the fire extinguisher clattered to the ground. “How--?”
I levered the bookshelf away from me and lunged forward so I could steady it as it wobbled in place. Then I blinked, turned a full one-eighty to make sure I still could, and opened my mouth to answer my boss, but I couldn’t find any words.
I could hear my heart pumping in my ears as my chest heaved with how quickly my lungs were working, and I opened my mouth again to give speech another go.
“I’m sorry,” I said in a quiet voice.
“Sorry doesn’t explain this to my insurance company,” Henry said in his usual gruff voice.
“I know,” I replied with a soft groan. “I really am sorry, though. I can fill out the paperwork for the insurance.”
“I… didn’t say anything about insurance.” Henry’s eyes widened again, and I frowned in confusion.
I’d thought for sure I had heard my boss’ voice.
“I think you should go home, son,” Henry eventually said with a grave shake of the head.
“But--”
“Just go home, Mark.” Henry’s voice was suddenly flat and scarily calm, and he held up a hand when I tried to speak again. “Now.”
“Yes, sir,” I mumbled apologetically and quickly darted behind the counter to grab my bag and my jacket, while the radio continued to play an interview with another Super.
Then I stepped out into the street, where several bystanders were still peering through the window of the bookstore they’d likely never paid one shred of attention to before, and I quickly hurried away before anyone realized I was the root cause of the sudden pandemonium inside.
I gulped in a lungful of fresh air and ran a hand through my hair as I headed toward my tiny little downtown apartment, but I couldn’t help the excited skip in my step.
I activated a super power. Fire. So I was a Conduit after all.
I couldn’t hold back the huge smile at the fact I’d finally activated. My strong Conduit blood had gifted me with the power of fire, and I was glad I hadn’t turned Henry’s bookstore into a raging inferno, but I was also wary of letting any sort of emotion take too much control of my mind, because I didn’t have a damn clue how to control my powers properly yet.
But as I continued to walk home and the adrenaline wore off, something nagged at me.
Not everyone activated a super power, and those who did only possessed one. I clearly had a fire ability, but then I thought about how I’d been able to catch that huge bookshelf. I’d never exactly been a weakling, but I definitely didn’t possess that kind of muscle strength normally, despite my infrequent trips to the gym. The shelf should have flattened me, broken some bones at least, but I didn’t even feel sore right now.
Then there was the fact I was certain I’d heard Henry say something about insurance, but as I thought back to the moment, I couldn’t recall his lips moving.
Had I read his mind?
As my thoughts raced, so did my heartbeat, and I took a long shuddering breath to steady myself as I finally reached the front door of my apartment building. The red paint was peeling off to reveal long scars in the wood, and I had to jimmy the lock at a certain angle in order for the key to turn. I shoved my shoulder up against the door, like I usually did in order to get it to open without it sticking, and I let out a yelp as I flew through the doorway.
The door with the red paint smacked loudly against the wall of the hallway, and I watched in silent surprise as it shuddered and reverberated on its hinges from the force I’d pushed it with.
Okay, I definitely couldn’t blame that on adrenaline.
But super strength was a Corps power, and I was supposed to be a Conduit.
I realized I’d been standing in place for longer than was deemed normal and staring at an open door with my mouth hanging open, so I gingerly closed it behind me and ran up the stairs to my apartment. I took them two at a time and then took extra care in opening the door to my place so I didn’t accidentally yank it away from the frame entirely.
Once the door clicked shut behind me, I collapsed onto my lumpy couch and let go of a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding since I left Henry’s bookstore.
I’d certainly had less exciting Thursday afternoons.
I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and quickly hit the call button beside my younger sister’s name.
“Mark?” Alice’s voice was confused when she answered.
“Hey, sis,” I said with a long sigh. “Are you with mom and dad?”
“Yeah, we’re just having lunch…” my sister said in a slow voice. “What’s up?”
“I, uhh…” I let out a disbelieving laugh and ran a hand through my already chaotic brown hair. “I might’ve activated at work today.”
“Holy shit!” Alice exclaimed in a loud voice, and I heard my mom’s disapproving gasp in the background. “Hold on, let me put you on speakerphone.”
I waited for the click on the line as Alice swapped the call over, and I could suddenly hear my mom’s voice a lot more clearly.
