A Few Days Off
The next morning I go home from the hospital. Even with his mood improving, Dad is still treating me like porcelain. Guess I shouldn't complain too much as this is the most attentive he's been in months.
First day of school was on Monday, three days and change at the hospital gets us to Friday morning. Dad was hesitant to leave me alone, but I convince him to head into work, "I'll call if I need anything Dad."
"Ok, if you're sure sweetie. I'm sure I've got piles of paperwork waiting for me," Dad said with a wry grin.
Now that I'm alone I can finally start to play around with my power. After a quick search on the internet I come up with the name for my power.
Telekinesis. The ability to move objects at a distance by mental power or other nonphysical means. Even the name for my power sounds pretty cool. Alright then, let's get experimenting.
Heading down to the basement I glance around to see what I have to work with. Damn, it's a mess down here. Years worth of clutter that you accumulate just by living in the same place.
Mom had died in a car accident when I was 13. She was on her cell phone arguing with Dad when someone ran a red light and T-boned her car. After that Dad moved a lot of Mom's old stuff down here. Not that he was trying to bury her memory or anything, I mean, we've got loads of her books and photos of her everywhere upstairs. It's just that my Dad didn't have much use for my Mom's old sewing machine. Stuff like that.
Reaching out with my power I blanket the entire area. I form a snow plow like wedge of force and clear a path to the middle of the room and concentrate. Keeping track of every single item is a little too much for me, so I settle for a general sense of awareness of where everything is.
Starting from a small cleared circle I gently push outward, carefully pushing everything away.
This is so surreal. Taking a moment, I see that some of the items I was moving weren't light by any means. There's a box filled with old college textbooks. Holy crap, a stack of old weights that Dad must have used once upon a time. Well, those will come in handy for testing limits in a little while.
I start out moving only one item at a time, but as I grow more familiar with multitasking and get a feel for my expanding senses, I am able to move around ten things at once.
Have you ever seen that Mickey Mouse cartoon Fantasia? Yup, that's totally how I feel by the end. Is the screwdriver that I use as a conductor's baton necessary? No. Is it fun? Yes. Yes it is.
With that thought I have a realization. Fun is something that has been severely missing from my life since Mom died and Emma turned on me.
I have powers now. That makes me a cape. I need to be responsible with my powers if I want to be a hero someday. Doesn't mean that I can't have fun with it along the way, right? Resolve set, I get back to the task at hand. Figuring out just what I can do.
Over the next hour I set about doing my best to clean up and organize the basement. There's dust everywhere by the time I'm done, but the sense of accomplishment that I get from a job well done is totally worth it.
Heading up to the kitchen, I make lunch for myself as I let the dust settle in the basement. My mind wanders as I gather supplies for a simple sandwich. Ok, so I know that I can pick up stuff with my power and move it around. Does that include myself? Maybe wrap myself up in a cocoon and lift? It'll be pretty close to flying. Some experimentation is in order.
Finishing up lunch I put everything away the old fashioned way. I'd use my telekinesis to help out, but I don't want some nosey neighbor to accidentally see me and report me to the Parahuman Response Team, or PRT. Or worse yet, to one of the gangs.
There are three main gangs in Brockton Bay.
First, the Azn Bad Boys, or ABB. A gang led by the parahuman villain Lung and consisting of several different Asian ethnic groups.
Second, the Empire 88. A group of white supremacists led by Kaiser, a villain cape that can control metal. They had by far the most parahumans of any gang.
Lastly, The Merchants. They were a bunch of drug dealers and users, led by Skidmark.
The gangs are always on the lookout for more parahuman members.
Outing a cape was a serious no-no, but it still happens.
I head back downstairs and look around the basement, spotting the neatly stacked set of weights. Not all that many unfortunately. Dad's never been that bulky of a guy. All told I've got two each of 5, 10, 25, 35, and 45 lbs plates. Starting with the smallest plates I raise them into the air. Too easy. While maintaining those I add the two 10 lbs plates. Still too easy. Screw this. I grab up all of the remaining plates and lift them into the air.
Huh. The mental task of keeping track of all ten weights is more difficult than the actual weight of the items. I feel that with time and practice I can improve.
Putting all the weights but one 45 lbs plate back into a nice stack, I set about trying to get an idea of my range.
I hold the weight steady a few feet off the ground and as far from myself as possible. Unfortunately that's not very far. In fact it's only about 10 to 12 feet from the back wall to the foot of the stairs. Slowly I make my way up the stairs while concentrating on the weight.
Closing my eyes, I focus on only two things. My power's passive sense of my surroundings, and the 45 lbs weight. I make it out of the basement and head for the stairs leading up to the second floor.
I'm at the top of the stairs when I hear the clang of the weight dropping onto the concrete basement floor. Not too shabby. I'd say that's about 25 to 30 feet. A little hard to judge because of the stairs, but not a bad start. Once again I get the feeling that with more time and practice I'll be able to increase my range. On to the next item on the list.
Flying! If I can manage this it'll be so kick ass. Well, hover not fly, as I don't have much head room in the basement. But whatever, let's do this.
I begin by trying to imagine an elliptical cocoon of power about a foot off of my body. Now lift. Immediately I lose my balance and stumble into the back of the cocoon, slumping down slightly. I'm about 3 or 4 inches off the ground.
Huh, not quite what I want. Settling back down to the ground I dismiss the cocoon. What if I use it like a sort of second skin? Maybe like an ⅛ of an inch surrounding my entire body?
Fiddling with it for a few seconds, I feel it suddenly snap into place. Woah, that is strange. Some sort of built in telekinetic armor maybe? My power just seems to know what to do.
Now this is what I want. I bend and twist, trying to get a feel for its range of motion. It's like a soft telekinetic hug, perfectly following my movements. Ok, lift off once more. I gently raise into the air, but this time I feel like I'm in total control. Instinctual almost. Hovering a few inches off the ground I slowly move from side to side; spin a few circles.
Cheshire grin: engage.
That's when I notice something is off. There's not a lot of sound down here in the first place, but there is an old wall clock. One of those annoying ones with the really loud second hand. Except I can't hear it. I'm watching the seconds tick by, but no sound. That's strange.
Slowly I finally start to hear something. A faint ringing in my ears. Now what does that….
10 minutes later
With a jolt I wake up, laying on the basement floor. Crap. I've got a slight headache, but I'm pretty sure I know what happened.
The lack of sound probably meant that my armor was fully sealed off. From everything. Including oxygen. Guess that would be really useful during a gas or chemical attack, but I'd have to get out of there fast before using up all my oxygen.
So, let's try this again. Same concept, but permeable to air. Hopefully that'll take care of the lack of sound too. I focus once again and snap, my armor is in place.
Immediately I stare at the wall clock. Tick. Tick. Tick.
Muahahaha. I've done it.
Ok Taylor, smugness is fine. Diabolical laughter will start to worry people. Especially Dad.
All in all, it's been a very fruitful day.
