"Mr Madison, we hired you to experiment with molecular structures; modifying existing materials into new materials with different properties by messing with their molecular structures. You were productive for the last couple years but now you're not producing the results we want to see from the money we pump into your experiments."
"With all due respect, sir," James replied, locking his gaze with his boss, "It is becoming increasingly difficult to discover new materials when we have already created so many."
"That's not an excuse, Mr Madison. You were hired to create new materials. Now, you're not creating new materials. We're going to have to let you go," came the curt response of his boss, not missing a single beat.
"Sir-" James tried again.
"Thank you, Mr Madison," his boss dismissed him and James set his jaw as he stalked out of the room.
James was a scientist. A pretty well-established scientist if he did say so himself. He was well on his way to a Nobel Prize for his work in the field of Chemistry, developing new materials with his studies in Molecular Manipulation and benefiting mankind with better and stronger materials used in everyday life.
His job was to create what had not been created. With the rapid development of technology and scientific understanding in the early 2000s, it was becoming harder and harder to change the way molecules were arranged and come up with new materials.
James knew that it was only a matter of time until his studies became obsolete. He had assumed he would be reallocated to a different research department, not fired by the company. His scope of knowledge was so narrow and specific that it would be hard to apply to a job elsewhere. There must be something he could do. Prove he was still relevant to the scientific community. Prove he was still capable of coming up with new designs, new materials.
James hurried home to his and Thomas' penthouse and headed straight to his personal lab. Being rich had its perks; he had top-quality lab equipment, a voice-activated AI assistant, and access to almost any scientific resource he could ever want.
"AUTO, give me a mindmap of original materials and materials I have discovered. I will find a gap in my previous research," James called out as he entered the lab, pulling his lab coat on and adjusting his safety goggles over his eyes.
"Of course, James. Displaying mindmaps in alphabetical order of materials. Displaying item one out of two hundred and fifty-two items under 'A'."
James had a swivel chair by his lab table but remained standing, hunched over the table as he began scribbling down plans and notes. He missed the front door creaking open. He didn't hear his lab door sliding open. He didn't see Thomas until Thomas waved a hand between him and his notes.
James leaped back with a screech, knocking the swivel chair back. He would have tripped and fell had Thomas not grabbed James' flailing arms and pulled him into the safe embrace of his arms. James gasped with the flight adrenaline of shock, then relaxed in Thomas' arms.
"Didn't see you there," James mumbled as Thomas rocked him gently, arms snaked around his waist and hands clasped at the front. James tilted his head back to greet Thomas with a kiss on his lips.
"Thomas, please adhere to lab safety requirements and wear a lab coat and safety goggles. Please remove all articles of loose clothings such as your tie-"
"Thank you, AUTO," James broke the kiss to interrupt the AI irritably, "I'll take it from here."
"Rough day at work?" Thomas chuckled, clear exhaustion in his voice.
"You too," James teased as Thomas released him and walked across the lab to where the swivel chair had skidded to.
Thomas chuckled again, pushing the chair next to James and sitting down. Thomas fell silent; partially too tired to respond with words, partially waiting for James to talk about his day.
"I was fired today," James broke the news with a sigh, turning to Thomas.
"Wanna talk about it?" Thomas asked, his voice soft.
"Nah, I'm good," James smiled gently, "and besides, you're tired."
"I'll never be tired of you," Thomas told James, standing up and pressing a kiss to his cheek. Thomas grabbed his briefcase that James just noticed he had placed beside the lab table. "I'll leave you to your work; you know where to find me if you need to talk." Thomas continued to say as he headed out of the lab.
Thomas paused at the door and turned back to James. "Have you taken your dinner? Wait, don't tell me… no. You haven't. You want Chinese food. Wonton noodles," Thomas guessed.
James' smile widened. "I'll never understand how you can read my mind so accurately," James commented.
"That's why I'm the world's leading psychiatrist," Thomas beamed, "or maybe you're just predictable."
"I am not predictable!"
"Tell that to your bowl of noodles when it arrives in five minutes!" Thomas hollered, sliding the lab door shut.
James shook his head and turned back to his notes, still smiling. He was lucky to have Thomas. After front row seats of his sister's death, James was in a bad place for a while. Grief made him forget details of the accident; hazy memories despite the sadness that came with it. Thomas had been the one to pull him out of that, to bring the sunlight back into his darkened world. One thing led to another and now they were a married couple of two years.
"James, your noodles have arrived."
"Thank you," James responded, brought out of his trip down memory lane as the corner of the table slid open and a bowl of steaming hot noodles emerged.
James took a seat and pulled up the front page news on the large holographic screen across the wall of his lab. He began to scroll the headlines while he ate.
Another miraculous win by the greatest team in the world!
Have you seen this?! Despite all odds, they cliched another gold medal…
Senator Thompson says he does not endorse his own son.
Critics are divided by this political difference existing within such an influential family…
Statistics say that the number of existing superheroes and supervillains have decreased.
Since the loss of our most influential hero and villain a couple years ago, super-crimes has been at an all time low…
Ooh, a superhero news story, James thought, straightening in interest. He gestured at it with a hand and the full article appeared on the screen.
Statistics say that the number of existing superheroes and supervillains have decreased.
Since the sudden loss of our most influential hero and villain duo a couple years ago, super-crimes has been at an all time low. The need for superheroes (aka super-police) to stop these supervillains has decreased, leading to the retirement of our favourite heroes: Not-Batman, Flower Power and Monster have announced that they will be retiring from hero work soon. The mayor plans to thank them for their contributions with a statue of them (and other lost heroes) in Central Park. New York City will soon notice a lack of flying humans in the air, destroyed buildings and civilian casualties. This is bittersweet news; the Supers in New York City has been a part of life for New Yorkers and an icon attracting tourists. Without them, life in New York City would be a lot quieter. Some New Yorkers have expressed their disappointment with the lack of danger in everyday life. Perhaps the Supers will make a comeback with a sudden influx of new villains? No one knows. Powers are discovered out of nowhere. Maybe the next generation of supers will bring back the danger in everyday life that New Yorkers crave.
James slurped up the last of his noodles and leaned back in his swivel chair. Supers were such an interesting breed of humans. Specific mutated cells gave them abilities to affect themselves or the people or environment around them. This difference in their molecular structure was fascinating to a molecular specialist like James. Without Supers providing him inspiration, it would be even harder for James to discover new materials now.
However, maybe there was something he could draw out from past heroes. Something he could learn from their abilities and use that for scientific research.
"AUTO, pull up a list of all known Supers and their powers," James called out.
"Certainly, James. Displaying list, with the most powerful Supers in history at the top of the list."
BRAINIAC: Mind Control
THE FORCE: Molecular Manipulation
RED RAT: Shapeshifting
TERRAFORM: Control over Nature
James' eyes lingered on the second entry, standing up with his hands pressed against the tabletop, leaning forward in interest. 'The Force' was a Molecular Manipulator. They would have been able to melt structures or rebuild structures. They would be able to create new materials from a given base, such as creating diamond from coal, both carbon-based. James couldn't recall this Super so they must have existed before he moved to NYC.
"AUTO, bring up all information and articles relating to The Force."
"I'm sorry, James. The Force entries has been locked by Thomas. You need a password to access them."
James frowned. Why would Thomas lock him out from some random Super's details?
"That's easy, Thomas uses the same password for everything. Input password: TOMANDJEMMY."
"The Force entries have been unlocked."
The screen split into two columns. The right column contained bullet-point information while the left column was further split into two rows with the Super in a mask on top and out of a mask below.
James' breath hitched as he stared at his own face blazed across the big screen. He was visibly couple years younger, his lips downturned in a frown, glaring at whoever or whatever was taking his picture. It wasn't a very glamorous image but it was, undeniably, him.
"You are all going to die! Before you die, I will make you feel the same pain I felt when my sister died!"
James shook whatever that was out of his mind. That couldn't be him. He wasn't violent, he was a withdrawn and private person. It must be someone that looked like him. He was friends with a Hercules Mulligan who looked pretty much like him with rasher and violent tendencies. This must be Hercules, not him. James tore his eyes away from the picture and turned to the information on the right.
Super Name: The Force
Real Name: James Madison
James' heart skipped a beat.
Abilities: Molecular Manipulation
Super alignment: Villain
Threat: Neutralised
He flew above the high-rise tower, an arm outstretched, laughing with twisted glee as it melted from the top and turned into quicksand-like concrete. Everyone would feel the same fear as he had felt. Everyone would learn how helpless he felt trapped and suffocated under debris. Everyone would experience the loss of a friend or family member before their very eyes, drowning in the concrete.
"Stop," James whispered, eyes brimming with tears. This wasn't him. This couldn't have been him. He wasn't evil. He didn't want to hurt other people. The surfaced memories were like static ringing in his ears, drowning out everything else.
James felt his fingers digging into the molten plastic of the table top. Since when did his triple-reinforced table melt?
James pried his fingers from the melting table and stumbled back, staring at his trembling hands. His fingertips tingled unpleasantly.
Since he had the power to manipulate molecules.
"Stop, Force! Stop hurting innocent civilians!"
"My sister was an innocent civilian but none of you stupid heroes saved her!"
"STOP!" James screeched at the flashes of conversations in his mind, fingers clenched into a fist in his attempt to contain the strange warmth at his fingertips. His head throbbed with the inflow of information, sudden understanding of his newly rediscovered powers.
"Will my sister ever return? No? Then I'm never going to stop!"
"I SAID STOP!" James screamed, hurling himself away from the screen. In a moment of panic, he rammed his head into the wall and everything went black.
James awoke in bed, a hand pressed against his forehead. The hand withdrew and someone sat by the side of the bed. James squinted at the person, willing his blurred vision to focus.
"James? You awake?" he asked softly.
"Thomas?" James recognised, groaning, attempting to push himself up and failing. His head pounded relentlessly. God, what had happened?
"I heard you screaming and rushed to your lab." Thomas explained, as though he had read James' mind. "The lab was in a mess; it looked like you had trashed it. AUTO had shut down. You were on the ground, knocked out cold. I carried you to bed. What the hell happened?"
"I don't know," James grumbled, "I was doing some research, and then there was something about molecules… I can't remember."
"You need to rest. I'll be right here," Thomas promised.
James closed his eyes and smiled as Thomas ran a hand through his short hair, tickling his scalp, easing the throbbing in his head. God, he hasn't had a headache this bad since-
"James, you have to- have to let me go."
"No!" James yelled. When the building collapsed, it missed him by a little bit so he was standing in front of the debris, holding up the collapsed ceiling from crushing him and his sister. His sister, however, was trapped beneath the debris, crushing her chest, making it hard to breathe.
"I'm- I'm going to die, James. Even if... the ceiling doesn't… fall, there's a sharp… metal beam crushing my back. You'll… survive longer if you just- just focused on yourself." she heaved back at him.
"I'm not letting you go!" James screamed, his fingertips burning with the weight of the ceiling.
"James, you can't-" she began to say, but just as she predicted, the metal beam behind her snapped, drilling right through her spine and killing her instantly. James watched in horror as the life drained from her eyes.
"NO!" James instinctively released a hand from the ceiling, reaching out towards his sister. Something powerful shuddered through him, a strange ability that tingled his fingertips. The metal thing that had killed her became a pool of harmless metallic liquid, flowing down her dead body onto the ground.
The ceiling, no longer supported by both hands, smashed down on his head, knocking him out. The last thought James had before he blacked out was of his sister.
He had awoken a superpower just seconds after he could have saved his sister. He had failed her.
"James, you tensed," Thomas' concerned voice brought James back to the present. James opened his eyes with a gasp, Thomas leaning over him, frowned in concern. He was safe. There was no collapsing building. No sister to save. His sister was already dead. Thomas helped James sit up in bed, passing him a glass of water from the bedside table. "What's wrong? You wanna talk about it?"
"I'm fine," James assured with a weak smile. He tightened his grip around the glass as his fingertips began to warm again, tingling with unwelcome power. Thomas raised an eyebrow in disbelief but James kept silent and Thomas stood up, turning to leave.
"Thomas, wait, don't go," James finally spoke, his voice small. Thomas sat back down and placed a 'I'm here for you' hand on James' shoulder. "I had a revelation."
"A scientific revelation?" Thomas asked softly.
James just shrugged vaguely.
"It can't be good if it made you trash your lab," Thomas probed.
James shook his head. It was very bad. He just discovered that he was an ex-supervillain, motivated by the grief of his sister's death. Somehow, he had forgotten all about that part of his past but Thomas had known about it and locked the information up, probably for his own safety.
"You'll make the right decision," Thomas said after a moment of silence between them, patting his shoulder, "You're a good person, James."
"You'll make the right decision," he told James, his arm around James' shoulders. They were sitting at the rooftop of a skyrise building, their legs dangling over the edge. James was pressed up against his side, arms around his waist, watching the night lights of the city come to life. They were both wearing tight spandex, too dark to identify the colours of their super suits. He pulled James closer and patted his shoulder encouragingly. "You're a good person, James."
James blinked out of the flashback and looked up at Thomas with a small smile. "I hope so," he whispered in response.
Thomas leaned forward and kissed James' cheek before he stood up again. "I love you, Jemmy."
"Love you too, Thomas," James responded as Thomas exited the room and closed the door behind him.
James took a deep breath and composed himself. His sister was dead but he was still here and he had superpowers to explore.
James gulped down the water in the glass and balanced it on his right palm and wrapped his fingers around the base. With little effort, the glass was crushed into its fine constitution of sand, raining down on the bed. A wave of his left hand with some concentration and the sand gathered back, skittering like ants onto his right palm, melting and forming glass again without the 2000 degrees celsius usually needed to melt sand into glass.
His powers could be used for destruction but it could also be used for creation. That must be how he had churned out material after material during his prime of scientific discovery. James placed the glass back on the bedside table and lay back in bed.
He would use his powers for good this time.
James spent the entire day after cleaning up his private lab.
He didn't remember trashing it but he must have when his head burned with pain because the lab was completely upside down. Not only had he melted his lab table, his apparatus were disfigured in ways that suggested their molecular structures had been rearranged. His cabinet of acids, alkali and other liquids had been dumped all over the floor, mixed and neutralised, losing their chemical properties.
James could fix the physical deformation of his equipment (it was great practice for his newly awakened powers to undo his doing) but he had to purchase new chemicals to experiment with. It wasn't that they didn't have to money to replace the chemicals but just because they had money didn't mean that James enjoyed throwing it away.
James rebooted AUTO up to see that he was still on his Super profile page. This time, James' gaze settled on the 'Threat: Neutralised' line. Exactly how evil had he been?
It frightened James to know that as a supervillain, he had lashed out in misdirected grief; that he was once capable of taking lives, justifying his own actions as lessons. It took courage for James to direct AUTO to show him news articles of The Force. He wasn't sure if he really wanted to see this side of himself. As he scanned through the headlines, his heart sank deeper and deeper into despair.
The Force tears down another building! 50 dead, 300 injured. A new record for supervillains everywhere.
The Force believes that taking hundreds of innocent lives to complain about the loss of one innocent life is justified.
The Force: A troubled teen or a menace to society?
"Death doesn't discriminate" - A lesson from The Force.
The Force has met his match!
James frowned at the last one, gesturing at the headline to read the full article.
The Force has met his match!
After a long reign of destruction, The Force finally has a superhero counterpart strong enough to stop him. We know Brainiac as the superhero sidekick who deals with citizen trauma in the aftermath of villain attacks but today, with our reporters daringly standing on the rooftop of the highest building in NYC to watch thr battle, we discover Brainiac's true abilities. As Brainiac soared up in the sky next to The Force, we were treated to a short-lived battle as The Force hurled his molecular creations at Brainiac who dodged with much agility. Brainiac was seen to attempt conversation with The Force out of it but everyone knew it wasn't going to work; The Force had internalised too much hatred to be talked out of his actions. As expected, Brainiac failed and had to endure another round of dodging The Force's attacks before The Force turned his attention to the civilians on the ground instead. He began to melt the concrete sidewalk, trapping and drowning civilians in the quicksand-like concrete. For a moment, Brainiac did nothing in the sky, watching helplessly as The Force attacked the city. Finally, Brainiac raised a hand towards The Force and the unexpected happened next. The Force faltered, the fingers of his outstretched hand clenching into a fist, unable to use his powers anymore. It dawned on the city what had happened when The Force struggled to pry open his own fingers with his other hand. Brainiac was controlling The Force with his mind! Brainiac had The Force turn towards him, muttering under his breath. A moment later, The Force fell unconscious, falling through the air like a crashing plane. Brainiac caught his villain counterpart before he crash landed and carried him away beyond the view of our reporters. What has Brainiac done to The Force? Stay tuned for updates.
James realised he remembered what happened next.
James awoke bound in ropes, his hands in fists inside boxing gloves and his wrists cuffed. He glared up at Brainiac who lived up to his name; with his fingertips not touching or pointed at the material of the gloves, James was unable to melt his way out of his prison.
Brainiac didn't seem to be threatened by James, his gaze intense behind his magenta mask but his body posture relaxed.
"Force, I know you're not evil," Brainiac sighed, "You're just misguided and grieving your sister's death."
"You don't know anything about my sister," James snarled at Brainiac, struggling uselessly in his cuffs.
"I know that she was innocent and so are the thousands of civilians you hurt everytime you attack the city," Brainiac told him.
"That's the point!" James snapped at him. Perhaps Brainiac wasn't as smart after all. "Everyone has to feel the same pain I did when someone who doesn't deserve to die, dies anyway because no stupid hero saved them!"
"Force, I'm a real life psychiatrist," Brainiac straightened his back, "and I'm here to offer you someone to talk to. As a professional. Free of charge."
"I don't need to talk," James spat, "I just want my sister back."
"Force, you're grieving," Brainiac said earnestly, "and I can help you if you'd just let me in. I could control your mind, erase your memory of your sister and you wouldn't have these violent tendencies anymore. I'm not doing that because I want to help you. You're misguided, not evil. I can help you grieve healthily."
Brainiac reached into a hidden pocket of his violet suit (who makes suits with pockets?) and pulled out a business card, tucking it in the neck of James' own spandex suit. James tried to shake it off but it only fell inside his spandex suit instead, making Brainiac crack a smile.
"What about my sister?" James asked sharply. "What about justice for her?"
Brainiac paused, then rested a hand on his shoulder. "I'll help you celebrate her life, not destroy your own in her memory."
"That's not-"
"Now, when I snap my fingers, you will sleep. When you wake up, you will be safe in your house," Brainiac told James.
"How do you know where I live!" was all James could shout before Brainiac snapped his fingers and his vision turned dark.
"JAMES!"
Thomas shrill voice startled James out of his memory. That must be Thomas calling him for dinner. How long had he been sitting there, reliving his memory?
"Coming!" James yelled back, turning AUTO off with a clap of his hands. He pulled off his lab coat and goggles and hurried out of his lab to the dining room. Thomas was already sitting at the candlelit table, robots ready to serve, waiting for him.
"Look at you," Thomas stood up, gesturing at James' crumpled t-shirt and pajamas pants, gazing at him with nothing short of devoted love. Thomas himself was wearing a suit- indigo in colour, if he might add- handsome and glowing and a dream come true.
"I stayed home all day," James defended his fashion choices with a chuckle. Thomas walked towards him, slipping his hands into James'.
"What I was about to say was: Beautiful. Perfect. I can't believe I'm married to you. I'm the luckiest man alive," Thomas told him, breathless with wonder.
"I love you too," James smiled, "and I have a better way of showing it instead of saying it."
"Yeah?" Thomas grinned, a quiet gasp as James met his lips with a soft kiss. They finally broke apart and Thomas led James to the table.
"What's with the fancy-smancy?" James asked, gesturing at the candles and roses, sliding into his seat opposite Thomas.
"It's been exactly three years since we've known each other and two since we got married," Thomas beamed, "I could have ordered instant meals but I took the day off to prepare the food myself!"
"Thomas, you didn't have to," James laughed, leaning back in his chair as the robots moved forward to serve them their appetisers. It was way too much mac n' cheese on a plate but James loved it. Thomas had put his heart into it. "Thank you."
"Try it!" Thomas practically squealed, "I made the cheese by hand, from scratch!"
"Yeah?" James took a bite, the cheese rich and creamy at the same time, the macaroni soft in his mouth. "This is surprisingly really good!"
"Did you doubt me, Jemmy?" Thomas teased, wolfing down his own serving rather unglamourously.
"Did you doubt me, Force?" Brainiac yelled at James, swooping through the air and catching up with him. "Did you doubt me when I said I was here for you? When I said you didn't need to hurt anyone else to make your point?"
"You don't understand!" James screamed, facing a highrise building and making a cutting motion in the air so the middle of the building melted and it began to collapse in on itself.
"I understand that the more you use violence as an outlet for your pain, the more pain you feel hurting these innocent people! The number of lives you take away doesn't decrease the guilt or impact of your previous actions, Force!"
"Shut up!" James screamed at him again, his waterproof mask only making his tears more visible as they dripped off the corner of his mask. A rough slapping action of his hand in the air and buildings began to fall like dominoes down the street.
"I don't want to do this, Force!" Brainiac yelled, and James found his fingers curling up into a useless fist again.
"Stop controlling me!" James shrieked.
"I will if you'd just listen!" Brainiac told him, flying directly in front of him, "let me help you! We can have a session right here, right now. Just… talk to me, Force."
James slumped in defeat as Brainiac wrapped him in a hug, resting his head over his shoulder, sobbing his eyes out.
"You're alright, Force," Brainiac assured, hushing him softly, rubbing a calming hand against his back. "You're alright."
"Something troubling you, Jemmy?" Thomas' hand resting on his pulled James back to the present. Thomas had finished his appetiser and he had only eaten one mouth.
"It's nothing," James brushed it off with a shrug and a forced smile.
"That's a fake smile, Jemmy. You can't pull that on me," Thomas said softly. "You can talk to me."
"Why don't you use your mind powers and guess what I'm thinking about?" James tried to lighten the mood, taking a large mouth of mac n' cheese.
His request only seemed to worsen the mood as Thomas frowned, his usual uncanny ability to accurately guess one's thoughts failing him. "I don't…" Thomas pulled his lips into a line. "I'm trying, but I have no idea. It's not about work. It's not about me. It's… I've never seen that expression on your face before."
James looked down at his plate and took another bite, avoiding Thomas' direct gaze.
"Will you tell me?" Thomas squeezed James' hand, "Do you trust me?"
"Do you trust me?" he asked James, resting both his palms against the side of James' head. "I can take away the pain without touching the memory but I won't do it if you don't trust me to."
James gazed up at the person. He was leaning back against the armrest of a couch, the person leaning over him. The room was dark and he couldn't see much other than the person's intense eyes. Intense, but truthful and earnest.
"I do," James whispered back, "I do trust you."
"Do you promise to stop hurting the people of New York if I do this for you?" he asked again.
James hesitated.
"I just want someone to understand me," James whispered back. The person shifted his hand and wiped away James' tears, then leaned forward and kissed him on his lips.
"I understand, James. You have me now. You don't have to hurt all these people to make someone listen to you," the person promised.
"Okay," James nodded, closing his eyes.
"I'm going to do it, James."
"I trust you," James whispered.
"I trust you," James promised, "I'm just… not ready to share it with you yet."
How could he tell Thomas that remembered being a villain when Thomas had gone through great lengths to protect him from that part of his past?
"No pressure, Jemmy. Whenever you're ready," Thomas patted his hand and pulled back. James couldn't help but realise how he'd ruined the romantic setting Thomas had worked so hard to create.
The rest of the dinner just didn't feel the same despite the main course being a very expensive and high quality steak with a side of lobster and the desert being vanilla ice cream that had a sharpness to it, almost like mint.
Thomas was trying to hide his disappointment but it didn't take a psychiatrist to understand the smile that didn't reach his eyes or his dulled and disheartened gaze. James retreated back to the lab after dinner, escaping the awkwardness between them.
James sank into his swivel chair with a sigh. A stress ball lay at the corner of his lab table. Normally, James would begin squeezing it, but James was not normal anymore. With a wave of his hand, James began to alternate the rubber ball between solid and liquid forms.
How had he fucked up their anniversary like that? Thomas had spent an entire day preparing for this one meal and James had to screw it over with his disturbing flashbacks. He owed Thomas their anniversary dinner and he would have to make up for it in the future.
James waved his hand too harshly in frustration and half the outer wall of the lab melted along with the stress ball.
James turned to the liquid wall, prepared to fix it before the unsupported building collapsed, then realised that the wall must not have been an important constructional beam because there was a hidden room behind the wall, accessible only through removing the particular wall James had just melted.
James stood up and slowly walked into the fully furnished room.
There was a glass casing display on a wooden table in the middle of the room containing a card and a book. An overflowing bookshelf was at the far right with a comfy couch in front of it. At the far left of the room was a miniature science kit more for amusement than for experimentation. The most stunning feature in the room was what faced him on the opposite side of the wall.
A light grey spandex suit was hung and protected in a glass casing. There were darker grey tones at the elbow and knee areas, in a flaked design mimicking debris or dust. The sleeves ran down into fingerless gloves. The suit was accompanied by a dark grey cape, mask and boots. It was simple but magnificent.
James pressed a hand against the glass casing, examining the suit close up, and was startled by a beep. A digital green box surrounded his hand against the glass. It must have used his fingerprints to identify him.
"The Force, welcome back. Would you like to change into your suit?"
It was a different AI system from the rest of the house that greeted him. James gathered that Thomas did not know this secret room existed.
"Um, I-" James began, but the AI didn't wait for his response. Robot hands emerged from the glass casing and ripped James' clothes right off him. "Hey!" James yelled at the robot, which (of course) ignored him and began pulling the suit on him.
It was a faster and less uncomfortable process than James had braced himself for. It was over quickly, the mask slapped onto his face and the robot arms withdrew back into the glass casing.
He might look good in the suit, but to see his own reflection in the glass was disturbing. He had killed in this suit. This was a suit that represented misdirected terror and destruction for the city. No one knew who was under the suit, and neither did James. Who was he? How could he have ever done what he did? Would he ever return to those violent tendencies, motivated to teach other people a lesson the unorthodox way? Was murder ever justified?
James turned and waved a hand at the science starter kit with its low quality beakers and inaccurate pipettes. The glass melted into a puddle of impure sand, which James quickly rearranged to form a miniature model of the city.
James approached the mini city and was seized by what felt like muscle memory or alien hand syndrome. A flick of his right wrist and the sand city tumbled into nothingness.
James backed in horror, gripping his right wrist with his other hand, both hands shaking hard. He had did it again and it had felt like the automatic response of an old, newly awakened trigger in his mind. It was only a fake city, but who knew what might happen if he was faced with the real city? Could he control himself, or was he ultimately just a slave to his own tendencies?
Maybe he had been better off never discovering his past identity. It had obviously been hidden to protect him, protect the city, and now he had unleashed the monster in himself upon the world.
James shuddered and turned away quickly towards the table in the middle of the room, lifting the glass casing over it and pulling the book and the card out. He lifted the card and squinted at the faded words.
Thomas Jefferson
PHD. Psychiatrist
11th Street
This was the card Brainiac had tucked into his suit.
James opened the door to see Brainiac in a simple jacket and jeans, looking up and smiling at him warmly. He looked over at his appointment list and turned back to James.
"Hi, Mr James Madison, right? Please take a seat. How can I help you?"
"I lost my sister," James got right to the point as he sat down, "and you said you would help."
"Force," Brainiac breathed out, reaching over his desk to take his hand. "I'm so glad you decided to come."
"Don't… touch me," James pulled his hand away, keeping his eyes trained on the floor. "Don't touch me, Brainiac."
James smiled at the memory, placing the card back on the table. He paused, a moment of realisation hitting him. Brainiac had been Thomas. He had remembered that they had met each other 3 years ago, 12 January 2015, on the streets, in civilian clothes and hit it off immediately. Through their relationship, Thomas had helped James cope with the loss of his sister. This room suggested they had a longer history as hero and villain that James hadn't remembered.
Did Thomas remember? How does Thomas live with the fact that he was married to a mass murderer? Did Thomas really love him, or was he merely doing the city a favour by keeping James under his watch 24/7? Was James only a prize to a hero like Thomas, a neutralised threat, an indication or reminder to others that the good guys always win in the end? Was James just an example to scare other villains with?
James shook the thoughts out of his head, picking up the book next, flipping it to a bookmarked page.
12 January 2013
Dear Diary,
After a full year of #enemiestofriendstolovers like a fairytale come alive, Brainiac and I finally transitioned from our super names to our real names. It happened so naturally. I had a session with him in his office, just talking. The memory of loss still hurts sometimes, but I try to talk to him instead of acting it out on other people. Brainiac never gave up on me, no matter how many times I trashed the city last year, so it was only right that I gave him a chance to get through to me. I mean, he didn't earn his PHD for nothing. He is a very good listener. He's so caring and gentle and wonderful and I know he can read my mind because of his stupid superpower but everytime he gets me exactly what I want, it makes me blush. I can't help it. I've fallen for him.
The Force, greatest Supervillain in NYC, falling for his Superhero counterpart. What a joke. But it happened and I don't regret a thing. We then went out for dinner together. I wasn't technically his patient, since I was seeing him for free, so we didn't have the whole doctor-patient drama. We went to a fancy place because, well, we could both afford it, and Brainiac insisted he dressed up for it. So we walked into the fancy place with Brainiac in a suit and I'm just in casual wear and we ordered the most expensive thing off the menu and we held hands and just talked while waiting for the food. I was feeding him because he was a messy eater and I couldn't stand that, and he made a stupid joke, and I pushed him and his name just slipped out of my mouth.
Thomas. It just feels so right to say it. Brainiac and Force. Thomas and James. Thomas just laughed and called me by my real name for the first time and it just felt like the whole world stopped and for a moment it was just me and him, you know? So I kissed him, our first proper kiss, and I dropped the fork I was holding and it stained his fancy pants but I have superpowers man so I waved a hand like a magician and got the stain out of his pants. Then Thomas leaned towards me and he kissed me and he held the kiss and I just melted in his touch. He's so perfect and he understands me. I want to spend the rest of my life by his side.
Love, James
James shut the book and slid it back under the glass casing with the card. He walked to the right of the room and dusted the couch before flopping down, closing his eyes with a loud exhale. He reviewed what he knew in his mind.
James was an ex-villain, The Force, that destroyed the city to selfishly force others to go through the pain he himself had undergone. Thomas was a hero, Brainiac, who had mind control powers and who was the one who wiped James' mind and hid his history from him for as long as possible.
Was what he had with Thomas real? Had Thomas been lying to him from the very start, to get James to trust him? Nothing seemed real anymore. Not what he knew of himself. Not his relationship with Thomas. Not his own memories or his own capabilities. Everything was a lie.
Perhaps it was for the better. Perhaps Thomas had done it to protect the city from The Force. To protect James from himself. Still, his entire post-villain life being a lie, James didn't think that seemed fair. Why couldn't Thomas have just let him go after erasing his memories instead of keeping James by his side? Was James truly so evil that this was his punishment?
Maybe he just wasn't understanding the full picture. James opened his eyes and stood up. He walked out of the secret room and sealed the wall back up with a flick of his wrist. He walked out of his lab and into their bedroom, where Thomas had already retired for the night.
"James?" Thomas called out softly, pushing himself up in bed, the room only illuminated by a dim nightlight. "What are you wearing?"
"Um," James glanced down at himself. He had completely forgotten that he was still wearing the supervillain suit. Still identifying himself as a bad person. He was a bad person.
"Are you wearing a onesie?" Thomas lay back down in bed, exhausted, patting the empty space beside him. "That's so cute, Jemmy."
"Yeah," James quickly agreed, kicking the boots off, unclasping the cape and removing the mask, laying them next to the door and sliding in next to Thomas on the bed.
"I'm sorry about dinner," Thomas said, his voice distant, already half-asleep. "I should have done better for our three-year anniversary."
"Thomas, it was my fault, not yours," James insisted, propping himself up with an elbow facing Thomas, "but I'm ready to tell you what was bothering me now."
"Yeah?" Thomas rolled on his side to face James, rubbing his eyes in an attempt to stay awake and alert. "What's bothering you, honey?"
"I know what you hid from me," James began slowly, "I understand. I don't blame you. I just want to know if what we have between us, if it was ever real, or just an obligation you had to fulfil?"
"What did I hide? James, what are you talking about?" Thomas smiled. "Of course I really love you."
"Really?" James couldn't help the clipped tone his words emerged with. "Because if you really did, you wouldn't be lying to me right now. Why didn't you let me go after wiping my memory? Am I still dangerous without knowledge of my powers? Is this my punishment?"
"Wiping your memory? Powers? Punishment?" Thomas echoed, sitting up in bed, fully awake now. "Jemmy, is everything alright?"
"I found all the superhero stuff about Brainiac and The Force and our adventures between 2012 and 2014, Thomas, so you can stop trying to cover it now!" James raised his voice, pushing Thomas away when he tried to wrap him in a hug.
"What superhero stuff?" Thomas struggled to follow, "I'm not hiding anything, James!"
" I know it's all fake but I want to hear it from you! Be honest with me, Thomas!" James huffed and began pacing the room in his attempt to calm himself.
"Jemmy," Thomas slid out of bed, "I didn't hide anything from you. Nothing is fake. I don't know what you want to hear from me!" Thomas raised his voice as well, but he wasn't angry, he was desperate. "Let's just sit down and talk-"
"Oh, talk! Because talking solves the problem everytime!" James stopped and turned to Thomas, arms akimbo.
"It does!" Thomas pleaded, "James I don't know why you're mad at me-"
"I wish I was mad!" James shouted, stomping across the room, "I just feel so betrayed, that you took away a part of my past from me, and I had to discover it myself and now you won't even be honest with me despite my flashbacks and headaches and stupid powers and I don't know what to do-"
"Headaches?" Thomas interrupted James' rambling, wrapping him in a hug from behind.
James let out a soft sob, shaking his head, wanting to pull himself out of Thomas' arms but also wanting Thomas to hug him, to assure him, to pretend that everything was alright in the world and their relationship was perfect again. That Thomas didn't lie to him. That he wasn't a villain. Wasn't a bad person.
"Shhh, Jemmy, I can help with the headache," Thomas soothed him, raising his hands to James' head, pressing two fingers against and massaging his temples. "Relax, James."
"Relax, James," Thomas whispered, his fingers pressed against James' temples. James rolled his shoulders back and took a deep breath.
"You sure this will work?" James whispered back.
"I promise this will work," Thomas said, "Once I remove the memories, we can start anew. No more superhero nonsense. Just you and me. Normal civilians. Falling in love for the first time."
"Okay," James agreed, closing his eyes, "I trust you, Thomas."
"Relax, James," Thomas repeated in the present, his voice low, rubbing his fingers in circles against James' temples. "I promise this will work."
"No," James yanked himself out of Thomas' arms and backed away from him, "I don't trust you. Not anymore."
"What did I do?" Thomas asked, a broken plea in his small voice.
"What did you do? You put your hands on my head! You were going to use your superpower! You were trying to erase everything again! That's all I am to you, isn't it? A neutralised threat, a claimed prize? The Force can't remember his past or Brainiac is a failed hero?" James shouted at him, frustrated tears brimming in his eyes.
"I don't know-" Thomas began, but James interrupted him.
"You know what, Thomas? You can take your stupid powers and shove it up your ass! I just wanted honesty between us but I guess I can't even trust you or your stupid motives anymore! All you heroes are the same, you think you're doing the right thing but in reality you're all liars and I hate you!" James screamed.
Thomas' face fell as though he had been deeply hurt by that, but who knew how he really felt? He was a really great actor anyway, keeping James by his side for three years and more, making James believe he was loved. Their relationship had always been too perfect to be true. James set his jaw, narrowing his eyes at Thomas.
James made a crushing motion with his hand in the air and their coloured glass bedroom door exploded into bits of coloured sand. Thomas jumped and gasped, bewildered.
"James, I-" Thomas tried again, but James interrupted him again.
"I'm leaving," James growled, "I want my own life. I want a real life. Don't try to stop me. I will… I will… I don't know what I will do, but I have superpowers!"
With that, James turned on his heel and grabbed the rest of his suit off the floor. He stalked out of the room, ignoring the trail of tears he left behind as he opened a window and jumped out, soaring above the bustling nightlife of New York.
James allowed himself to cry now that Thomas was gone. Where could he go? He had sold his own house when he moved in with Thomas. He couldn't go to any public place in the suit he was wearing. James let his instincts guide him and found himself landing on the top of the highest building in NYC.
James sat at the edge and wiped his tears away with his arm. What was he to do now? Maybe he would sleep out tonight and return to Thomas tomorrow morning. Maybe they could talk again when Thomas was more alert. Maybe he could get Thomas to remove his identity for good; delete all historical records of The Force ever existing. Heroes could do that, right?
Except, the thousands of family and friends of the people he had killed would never allow The Force to disappear without paying for his crimes. How could he ever make up for what he did?
"Force?" came a hopeful voice behind him. James turned his head around to see a Super in black and gold stripes approaching him with her eyes wide. "Is it really you?"
"Um, yeah," James turned his body completely to face her, hoping that his red eyes and nose were not obvious giveaways that he had been crying. Her expression fell at his response but she quickly corrected it with a gentle smile. "I guess?"
"When we saw the grey figure on the news soaring across NYC, we weren't sure if it was you. I knew that if The Force really had returned, I'd find you here," she bragged.
"How did you know?" James asked, slipping off the edge onto the roof and approaching her slowly.
"This is where you and Brainiac hung out regularly," she explained patiently, "Even without your memories, you came here. This place means something to you."
"How do you know I don't have my memories back?" James puffed out his chest in an attempt to look threatening and evil but the Super only giggled.
"Force, my name is Pharaoh. I am the current leader of the Villains," she introduced herself, reaching a hand out. James hesitated taking it. Would it be a show of alliance with the villains again if he shook her hand? He didn't want to do bad things anymore; he didn't want to be associated with them anymore. She seemed to understand and dropped her arm, still smiling.
"Hi," James eventually said in response.
Pharaoh stepped forward, cocooning his right hand in both of hers anyway.
"If you had your memories back, you'd remember I was your chosen apprentice," Pharaoh squeezed his hand. "I took over when you left."
"Ah," James simply said. That explained her disappointment when he didn't recognise her.
She seemed even more disheartened when he didn't have any recollection or memory flashback of her when she told him who she was. This time, she didn't bother masking her disappointment.
"Well," she said after a moment of silence, releasing James' hand and heading to the edge of the roof where James had been sitting. She sat down and James followed, sitting by her side. "You're very different without the grief and the anger," she commented.
"I guess I am," James laughed softly, looking down at his legs dangling over the edge.
"I miss the old you," she added, turning to him. James froze and looked back up at her. There was something intense in her gaze now; no longer friendly. Her eyes were sharper, deadlier. Her lips were set in a business-like frown of disapproval. She commanded authority. Fear. Danger. "We all do, Force."
James swallowed.
"You used to be this," Pharaoh gestured at herself, "I learnt this from you."
"I used to be a bad person," James pointed out. "Misguided. Hateful. I've found proper help since. I don't want to kill anymore." James finished with a smile, hoping that was the end of the conversation of past him.
"Help from who? Brainiac?" Pharaoh scoffed, "He brainwashed you. Turned you into a goody two shoes. Made you think you were loved and special and important to him. Didn't you just discover that everything with him was a lie?"
James turned away, his heart stinging with pain.
"I don't want to talk about that," James muttered.
"He used you. He destroyed you, tore down who you really are as an example, as a lesson to the rest of us. All the heroes are the same. They think they're doing the right thing but in reality, they're all manipulating liars who have morales just as bad as the rest of us!"
"That's what I said!" James exclaimed, turning back to her with a new fire in his eyes. He had been made use of. Ridiculed. Living a lie. Every beat of his heart was a painful reminder that he had loved and devoted three years of his life to someone who didn't feel the same way about him.
Pharaoh smiled, seemingly pleased. "See?" she nudged him, "we're not that different."
"I guess not."
"I always knew that deep inside," Pharaoh continued, "the real Force was still waiting. Brewing. Ready for the right opportunity to emerge and rule again."
"Woah," James stopped her there, raising his arms, "I'm not interested in taking over the world, or killing, or being evil anymore. I'll talk it out with Th- Brainiac tomorrow when he's more awake and-"
"Force," she interrupted, her words pained, "don't you see? He never loved you and he's never going to love you."
"You don't know Thomas," James told her with conviction, "He's different. It's just a misunderstanding. He loves me."
"How do you explain that, then?" Pharaoh pointed. James followed her finger and squinted at the strange flashing lights in the night sky. "What's that, Force?"
"Police helicopters," James realised, his breath hitched in his throat as the bright white lights searching buildings grew closer.
"They're after you," Pharaoh leaned closer and muttered under her breath. "Brainiac sent them."
"To arrest me," James breathed out.
"Instead of coming after you himself and apologising, he sent the police after you," Pharaoh shook her head, "that doesn't sound like love to me."
"No," James agreed, shaking his head as well, but he drew his knees to his chest and hugged them. His voice grew small as he continued. "Maybe this is for the better. I have to pay for my crimes. Pay for the deaths I caused. This is right; I will serve jail time and give back to the community to make up for my past actions."
"Brainiac betrayed you, Force," Pharaoh placed a comforting hand on his knee, meeting his gaze. "Brainiac's lying and betrayal hurt you. It's okay to be angry at him."
It did hurt. It hurt a lot.
James allowed himself a moment of vulnerability, biting his lip in an attempt to hold back his tears. The first sob escaped his lips and soon he was wrapped up in Pharaoh's arms, crying into her shoulder.
"Shhh," she comforted him, rubbing his back, "We're here for you. We're your family. We'll never betray you."
James didn't want to be a villain, but right now, he was in a bad place. He just wanted someone to make him feel like he was wanted. Needed. Loved. He would take any of those emotions, from anyone at all. It felt nice to hear that someone actually cared for him; that they believed in him and were always here for him.
If only Thomas had been one of these people.
James finally sniffled his last and pulled away. The police helicopters were only a street away from them now. "Thank you," James whispered.
"Force," Pharaoh held on to his shoulder tightly, speaking seriously, "Brainiac wants to break you. He wants to prove that he still has the upper hand. Don't let him win."
"You think so?" James whimpered.
"I know so," Pharaoh told him firmly, "Force, my power is magic based. I specialise in binding spells. I can bind someone to their word or bind something to them. Force, I can protect you from Brainiac's future attempts to hurt you."
"Yeah?" James glanced up at her. "He won't be able to read or control my mind anymore?"
"I guarantee it," Pharaoh assured, "as long as you want it, I can give it to you."
"I want it," James told her without hesitation, "I want to forget about him. I want to be distracted from thoughts of him. I just want to be free and do things my way without oppression from anyone, you know?"
"I do," she nodded. "Roll up your sleeve."
"I also don't want him to be able to use his mind powers on me anymore," James continued, rolling up the sleeve of his suit. "I don't want him to be able to touch my mind or my memories. He won't be able to control me anymore."
"You got it, Force," she nodded, "this might hurt."
Pharaoh drew a quick symbol over his flesh with an ungloved hand. As her nail scraped his skin, it felt like a red hot iron rod branding his arm, burning into his skin. The pain was blinding.
When the finger finally left his arm, James blinked away the white specks in his vision and cleared his sore throat. Through the pain, he must have been screaming. James looked down to gaze at the ankh on his arm. The picture seemed to be trembling on his skin, infused with magic. The more he watched it, the more he was drawn to it.
"Give a moment for the magic to work," Pharaoh said, her voice far away. Pharaoh rolled James' sleeve back down for him, covering the hypnotising symbol, making him blink and look up at her.
She patted his shoulder gently, as though waking him up from a deep sleep.
"Now, listen to me, Force," she said, and James struggled to focus on her voice. Everything seemed so detached; he was so far away from reality. All he could feel was the ankh, the binding spell on his arm. What had he bound himself to? James couldn't think straight.
"The Force, you were the greatest villain of all time until Brainiac made a fool out of you. He betrayed you. Lied to you. Took away your real life and buried who you really are. How does that make you feel?" Pharaoh guided his thoughts.
"Angry," James hissed, his narrowed eyes a little dazed, empty, "Hurt. Betrayed. Outraged."
"The Force, this ankh represents life. It's your life, you can do whatever you want with it. No one can tell you what to do. No one can stop you from getting what you want. What do you want?" Pharaoh continued.
"Revenge," James heard himself snarl, as though it was someone else saying it, "I want to make Brainiac pay for what he has done to me. What he has made me feel."
"The Force, I have given you protection against Brainiac's mind powers. He will not be able to influence you or touch your memories anymore. How are you going to make him pay?"
"I will k-" James began, then bit his tongue and stopped himself. He blinked rapidly, attempting to rise himself from the sea of haziness. What had she done to him? He didn't want to kill Thomas. He just wanted-
Pharaoh clasped her hand over the ankh, pain flaring through James' entire body. Physical pain. It overwhelmed his emotional pain momentarily before Pharaoh unclasped her hand and the pain subsided. James was left heaving, fingers white after gripping the edge of the ledge they were sitting on too tightly.
Physical pain could be removed but how about emotional pain? The pain caused by Thomas. Thomas had hurt him. Thomas had no right to hurt him. He was The Force. He was powerful. Brainiac will pay for what he has done.
"How do you want to make him pay, Force?" came the low rumble of a faraway voice.
The Force curled his lips in a growl, mind enraged by the pain, blinded by the pain.
"I will kill him," The Force growled.
"Who are you, and what is your mission?" Pharaoh prompted, her voice rising in glee.
"I am The Force," he responded slowly, his voice a low gurgle, poison in every word, "and I am going to kill Brainiac."
The ankh on his arm flared with magical light, registering what he had said, binding him to his word.
Pharaoh clapped her hands in glee. It had worked. The Force had returned. Forced to and manipulated, but nevertheless. She had been waiting for the day when villains would rise again. Now, with Force as their overpowered, mindless zombie to command, they could.
Both villains turned to the police helicopter as it finally leveled with them on the rooftop. The police did not seem perturbed by James' empty eyes and evil snarl, raising a tranquiliser gun and a megaphone.
"The Force, this is the NYPD. We have you surrounded. Surrender now or we will shoot."
The Force growled. No way was he going down without a fight. No way was he going to let Brainiac win again. He was in control of his own life. He made his own conscious choices. Such as this.
The Force reached an arm out and melted the guns, relishing in the horrified faces of the NYPD. it was followed by melting the helicopter, causing the air-borne police to fall to their deaths.
Pharaoh threw her head back and laughed gleefully, delighted at his actions. She slapped his back good-naturedly and stood up, gesturing him to follow her.
He did as he was told. After all, he owed it to Pharaoh for giving him this freedom to choose. This power in his veins. This anger in his mind. Now, he could be a proper villain again. He would be someone appreciated. Respected. Feared.
The spelled symbol on James' arm glowed as James was brainwashed by his bound programming, absorbing power through the screams of terror The Force created.