Author's note: This chapter took much longer to write than expected, mainly due to several full changes and revisions. Thanks for your patience, and have a happy Christmas and New Year. Also, to the guest reviewer who asked what POV meant, it stands for point-of-view. Thanks.
Chapter 2
Cabin Hideout
5:51 p.m.
Villain's POV
It was an absolutely perfect night.
Clear skies, a light cool breeze, plenty of bright stars. Probably didn't mean all that much to many people, but when you're a person who hadn't even seen a night sky in over ten years, it might as well had been seeing heaven itself. Add the fresh smell of earth and woods, I could just close my eyes and suddenly I'm a happy little kid again, camping in those hills with my family. The only thing missing was a campfire, smores, and crappy yet entertaining stories. Ah, if only to be that young again, innocent, isolated, ignorant…
But then you grow up and quickly learn just how truly shitty the world really was. Just about nothing but anguish, suffering, and misery anywhere you looked. Oh, sure, there were maybe a few bright spots here and there, but you don't hear about those too much, or for too long. Even those tiny sparks are usually drowned out by a massive wave of negativity and misery quite quick. Pessimistic much, one might ask? Not really. Take a look at front page headlines on a newspaper or the first ten to fifteen minutes of news programs. About ninety to ninety-five percent of the time, they always start off with a negative headline. Well, bad news sells, people say, which, I can't lie, was true. But, at least for me, it was more than that.
See, it was one night, a couple of years before "The Night", after stopping yet another bank robbery, but not before the asshole put a few slugs into an unfortunate teller's face just cause, that I came to a realization and, supposedly, broke a cardinal rule for supers. I thought, and then asked, 'What was the point?' Seriously, what WAS it? What I meant was, from the very beginning, criminals committed crimes, supers went out and stopped them, criminals went to jail, supers went home, and then did it all over again the next day. It had been the same song and dance for decades, minus the obvious fifteen-year-long vacation. And, of course, people loved to spout off the statistics: 'CRIME RATES AT HISTORICAL LOWS!' 'CITIES HAVE NEVER BEEN SAFER!'
Okay, fine. If people wanted to go by stats, then yeah, that's true. However, what they forgot, or conveniently left out, was the little fact that crime never stopped. Yeah, even with the fact that there were more supers out there than ever, or that there were super-powered people out there to began with, that hadn't at all deterred people from wanting to commit crimes. Hell, there were many cases where people committed crimes specifically to draw out supers and try to kill them. A particular saying was very true: 'Few things can overcome human greed.'
So crimes were still happening, but you're a super, people might say. Or at least I used to be. Wasn't it our job to stop them? Okay, first off, who said? Where was it written in natural or human law that stated a super's only reason for existing was to fight criminals? As far as I knew, I didn't see that anywhere. And no, neither the International Superhero Accord or the National Superhero Reinstatement Act counted. Both of those only revoked the ban and granted supers permission to return to action, if they chose to. Those last four words were the key ones, but apparently in a lot of stupid people's empty heads, 'permission' was obviously another word for 'drafted'. They figured it was like mandatory service: You had to join the fight against crime, you had no choice in the matter. You'd had thought that after decades saying otherwise, that supers fighting crime was ENTIRELY voluntary, that not every person who developed powers did so, ever, but hey, let's not let that tiny bit of fact blow up a mountain of ignorance.
As part of the ''tweener' crowd, that was, supers who had been born during the ban, most of us grew up hearing what our parents had done, and it was no different with me. My own parents were among a tiny handful of supers who operated in the country where we were originally from. Then the ban happened, things went to crap real fast, and when I was a toddler, Dad decided to move us to America to start our lives over. For a while, it all worked out. Dad opened a car repair shop, Mom had a cafe, and things were looking up. Still, their one true love had always been when they were active supers, and they never stopped telling me and my three other siblings about all the things they had done back then. You could just tell by how their eyes and faces lit up with every story just how much they loved doing that and how they wanted to do it again one day. So it was a shame that neither them or my other siblings lived long enough to see the ban lifted.
When that day came just a few years later, like many supers of my generation, I joined the fight. Part of it was obviously because I volunteered to. I mean, how could I not? After listening to my parents' stories as well as others for years, I finally had the chance to show off what I could do, to make my own mark upon the world. The other part, however, was due to what I felt was obligation. As the rest of my family was dead, I alone was left to continue their legacy, to bring that same passion and sense of honor and justice they had all those years ago to my adopted home country, to Metroville. For most of my dozen years of service, I did all of that and more. I truly and honestly felt like I was doing my part in making a difference and honoring my late parents. But like many things, the longer you did something, the greater chance that your beliefs and viewpoints could begin to change, and, for me, it was within the last three years when that started happening, but not in the way you'd think.
And that led into my second point, and that was supers had a lot less freedom when engaging with criminals and villains than you'd thought possible. Yeah, kinda strange to hear, but it was no lie. When fighting or just being out in public, we supers were neutered to all hell on what we could or could not do. Before I go on, let me make it very clear that I completely understood what was going on. See, it was like this, when the ban was lifted, the higher ups were, let's just say, a little skittish on the thought of that happening again. So, to head that possibility off, they laid down a few ground rules. And by a few ground rules, I really meant they put every super on probation. Okay, probation was maybe a bit much, but the fact was that, for a while, the NSA really laid the law down on how we supers did things. Now, of course, there had always been restrictions since the very beginning. Ever wondered why we couldn't just take down greedy CEOs who stole wages from their employees and deposited it all in a bank in Switzerland? Or why we couldn't go into another country and punch out an evil dictator who was always mouthing off about nuking the world? That was why. Yeah, that never made much sense, but that was how it was.
And now I'll finally get to what all of that was leading up to. I firmly and truly believed that our perpetual fight against crime and the greater restrictions we were under was what eventually led up to "The Night" and my downfall. Here's how it went. In the years following the ban, it seemed like most supers were very happy just being back out on the streets to question the new rules, if they even thought about them at all. I didn't blame them as I was the same way, at first. However, unlike most of the rest, it didn't take long for me to see what was really happening. The new rules were more than just a pain in the ass, they actually proved to be a massive hindrance. Even worse, criminals quickly picked up on that and took advantage, and situations that could had ended in minutes instead took much longer.
So, with that deck stacked against us, you'd think supers everywhere would be up in arms about that, right? BUZZ! No, of course not. Like I said, supers were just happy being back out again and that was more than enough for them, but it wasn't even close for me as I didn't like being held back on a virtual leash. So I made my voice and point very loud and clear on that, and everyone else wasted no time...not giving a damn. Alright, not technically true. There were others who felt the same way I did, but, in short, the general rule going around then was 'Don't rock the boat'. There were too many people in powerful positions who were just looking for an excuse, any excuse, to reinstate the basically we just had to suck it up and let our actions be our words, or so I was once told by someone. And so I did and stayed quiet for the next nine years.
And then came that night at the bank. Now, the fact that this total waste of cells and oxygen just offed the poor woman for no reason was bad enough. What really put it over the top was that I instantly recognized the guy. He was someone who I busted for a carjacking during my first year as a super. In fact, he had been released from prison just three days earlier for that same crime. One would think that after nearly nine years in the clink, a person wouldn't be in much of a hurry to book a room there again, but nope, not with this guy. Even with the two second takedown I did to him, he still had that smirk and cocky attitude from when we first met.
Now, to this day, I don't know if it was all the frustration that I felt over the years which finally peaked, that stupid smirk on his face, just having a crappy day, or all of the above, but I came within a half-second of ending his worthless life right then and there. It would had been so easy, too. My hand was already on his throat from the takedown, and with my strength, all I had to do was give a little squeeze and every bone in his neck would become instant powder. I was completely justified in doing it, too. Once a criminal took a life, then all bets were off.
Somehow, I was just able to stop myself from killing him, which was too bad. Would've saved taxpayers a lot of money. Instead, I grabbed the back of his head and slammed his face against a nearby desk. Then, I dragged him out of the bank by the collar of his shirt, after which I flung him through the air and he made a not-so-gentle landing at the feet of the numerous waiting cops. He ended up with a two-week-long stay in the hospital with a concussion, shattered nose, and a mouthful of broken teeth from the desk, and a broken arm, two ribs and an ankle from the short flight. But, hey, I didn't kill him, although he had screamed to everyone that I tried to. Really? Well, at least he lost that smirk.
Now here's where things got a little interesting. As you'd expect, that little episode got some press behind it. Obviously, the local anti-super pundits had a field day, calling it the most blatant example of over-the-top super violence against a normal in years, regardless of what the latter had done. The NSA expressed 'concern' but nothing more than that. Most people and other supers actually sided with me. As for me, if it had been just another criminal, then I almost certainly would had been apathetic about the whole thing. But because I knew him, that was the moment when my viewpoint about what we did as supers started to change.
So, did that mean I started going around and smashing criminals' faces in? No. I wasn't that bloodthirsty. I mean, I had a reputation of being rougher and tougher with criminals than most other supers even before the bank and even more so after, but I wasn't going to literally rip them limb from limb, unless they gave me a reason to. But, no, my change in viewpoint started when I began noticing more and more criminals back out on the streets not long after being put away, sometimes literally within a few hours. It wasn't just for petty little things like loitering or jaywalking, either, but more like aggravated battery and attempted murder. That led me to two conclusions: either the police were just that massively incompetent, or many of them, and others, were on the take.
That was the very moment when I thought and then asked, 'What was the point?' I mean, when it seemed like more and more people were ganging up on you and stopping you from doing your job effectively, then how could you not start questioning things. Add in the unbelievable apathy from most other supers and the day quickly came when I just threw my hands up and walked away to take a break from the bullshit that was modern day crimefighting.
Believe me, that was the last thing I wanted to do. Despite all the crap that was going on, I still loved what I did and wanted to continue building upon the legacy my parents started. But at that moment, it was impossible, and not just due to outside forces, either. Admittedly, there had been some internal ones as well, and had been for well over a decade, back before the ban was lifted. If I could put a word to it, I would say that I was 'unbalanced'.
Okay, I'm about to get a little philosophical here to better describe that. When I was little, my mom taught me that every person had a balance point. No, not the walking on tightrope kind. She told me that people had four true needs: physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual. How much of each obviously varied from person to person, but the spot where they equaled out was considered the balance point of our very well-being. If any of them was negatively affected, then your entire well-being could be thrown out-of-whack and you would suffer both internally and externally. In short, you'd become unbalanced, and would be until you identified the problem and fixed it. I knew my own problem, but the fix had to come from elsewhere.
And so I went home, and by that, I meant that I returned to my original home country, and stayed there for over a year. I still had relatives there who went completely out of their way to be as helpful as possible. They provided a large part of the help I needed, but I needed more that just that if I wanted to truly fix myself. For that, I traveled around the country and offered help to those who needed it, but only as my normal self. It was actually quite refreshing and eye-opening, considering my ever growing disillusionment of super life.
However, there was another reason why I traveled around my birth nation, or even why I returned there to begin with. I wanted to learn the full story of my parents' heroics in that part of the world, especially the parts they never told me or my siblings. Prior to that point of time, it had been nearly thirty years since their forced retirement and just over fourteen years since their deaths. I knew there were stories out there that needed to be told and heard, and even though they weren't around anymore, they could still had been some help in turning me into the super I was sure they wanted me to be.
Posing as a historical researcher as I obviously couldn't blurt out who I really was, I spent eight months traveling around, going from small towns to large cities to learn as much about my parents as I could, and I learned plenty. For starters, how much I heard and was told depended on what part of the country I was in. Some areas barely heard of them, if at all, and other areas still celebrated their heroics after three decades. Neither was unusual. Like I said, very few supers worked out of there back then, and they were only two out of less than a dozen for the entire region. But they had been the top two out of those less than a dozen supers, so they were more fondly remembered than the others.
To be truthful, I didn't really learn much more than what my parents had already told me long ago, but it was still nice to get the local perspective on them. Also, there was still more than enough new info out there that gave a more complete picture. Combined with the help from my relatives and my own offers of simple help and I felt I was well on the way to making myself whole again.
But, of course, shit happens and life always had that funny idea of finding a way of stopping you from accomplishing the most important thing you were trying to do. Never failed, didn't it. Anyway, my two best friends managed to track me down and came there to convince me to come back. They told me something big was going down back in Metroville and they wanted me, and my skills, to help them put a stop to it. I told them why I was there and that I wasn't ready to leave yet, but they insisted, and they persisted. It quickly reached the point where I became split. Half of me came within a hair of outright accusing both of them of being truly selfish, that they came all the way there not because they missed me, but because they only wanted my powers and abilities to get them through what they seemingly couldn't do by themselves. On the flip side, the three of us had made a pact that we'd always have each other's backs, no matter what. Over the last decade, we'd made good on that pact dozens of times. In short, I owed them quite a few favors, even if it wasn't the best time right then. So we compromised and I would go back with them and help them out, but then return to my native country to finish my healing process without any more interruptions, which I figured would take at least another year. And so, with that, the three of us went back to America, to Metroville.
And I'm sure you'd guessed what happened after that. Yep, "The Night" happened just three days after I came back. In the aftermath, five people died, and everything I said before made that happen. The NSA's restrictive rules made finding other options impossible, the other supers' reluctance in even bothering to look for other options, and my reputation of being very outspoken against the rules, even being called dangerous and reckless when I was anything but, all of that led to the fingers being pointed solely at me, blaming me for the entire thing, and being convicted of five counts of involuntary manslaughter and permanently stripped of all superhero privileges and responsibilities.
Now, I had to be honest. If that was all that had happened, then thing may had been a little different. I would still had been furious about the whole thing, but the most possible scenario out of that was that I'd quietly serve my ten years in prison, got out, and then disappear somewhere into the world, never to be seen again. Probably would had been a much happier life.
But what truly changed everything was that those two friends, one of whom I'd been with since kindergarten, the ones who had always been so loyal and dependable and had always been there for me, the ones who actually flew to my native country to sweet talk me into coming back because they needed my help, and one of them who I…, they completely turned their backs on me and sided with everyone else, not even bothering to tell the full story of what truly happened. So much for always having my back, no matter what.
So, yeah, I was still more than enraged by the whole thing, but there were other feelings I felt that night: terrible sadness, crushing hurt, and unimaginable betrayal. Not only that, I felt like another, much larger part of my well-being had been ripped out of me, and that was my honor. Even with my overall feelings of being a super those days, I still had a massive sense of honor. It was why I didn't kill every crook and criminal I came across, although I had every right to with at least a few of them. It was why I took every vow and promise I made to others extremely seriously, like having the backs of others when they needed it. And now that was gone. For months, perhaps even years, I wanted, and tried, to get back that missing piece of myself, and then, after one night, I lost another massive part and became even more unbalanced. It was possible, maybe even certain, that I'd never be completely whole again.
However, even more changes came during my decade long stay at UMAX. Starting from my earliest days there, that gaping void in my psyche began to be filled with two other emotions: bitterness and hate. Some of that was directed at others, but nearly all of it was focused on those five traitorous sons of bitches, and especially at the two of them who I once considered to be incredibly close friends. I made no attempt to stem those feelings, and they only grew more powerful and intense over the years, so much so that they overwhelmed my well-being and completely took over my entire psyche. When I got out, ice cold bitterness and burning hot hatred was all I felt. I was probably no longer capable of feeling much else. If there was any chance of getting at least a part of me back, then I knew what I had to do.
So, there it was, a little bit of backstory which led up to that point. Or perhaps it was just me venting. Maybe it was both. Anyway, even though I had info on all five targets, I didn't immediately make a move against them, not yet, anyway. The day after I got out of prison, I scouted the homes of three of them from a distance, in disguise, and for a minute at max. Not much had really changed in ten years. As for the two that I didn't scout, one was because it was pointless and the other was for...reasons.
The next two days were totally dedicated to me spending time out on the town. I went out to see three different movies, ate out at two restaurants, was able to get into a local concert at the last minute, and just spent time at a secluded spot and looking out at the ocean for several hours. I did all that because I knew that once I got started with my plans, I'd never be able to do any of that ever again. My life at that point would go down three possible paths: I'd be on the run for the rest of my life, I'd be imprisoned for the rest of my life, or I'd be dead. So it was nice to enjoy those simple pleasures of life while I could.
The final thing I did was make a visit to a very special place for possibly the final time. Ocean Point Cemetery. That was where my family, my mom, my dad, two brothers, and two sisters were buried. A large polished granite headstone with our surname in large, stately letters marked the spot. When the light was right, not only did it shine brightly, but it seemed to slightly change color. That day, in the late afternoon sun, it was doing just that, maybe even more so than ever. It was maybe coincidence, but it could had been a sign. I never really ruled those things out in certain situations.
I approached the gravestone and did a quick look around to see if I was alone. Confirming that I was, I removed the hood of my dark leather jacket from my head, followed by my equally dark ball cap and sunglasses. I then just stood there quiet and motionless for a minute before I began talking.
"Hey there," I said. "It's good to see you guys again. I know it's been over ten years and I promised to visit you on every anniversary, but you know how it is when you've been in prison for all that time. They don't let you out very much during your stay there."
I forced a small grim smile before I sighed. "I never should've gone there, or if I really had to, then five other supers should've been sharing cells with me. I know what happened. They know what happened. I'm sure you all know what happened. But no one else does. I'm still the only one being blamed for it. They got to live on as though nothing happened and without punishment or consequences. That has to change. That will change."
I then turned my attention to my mom's engraving on the stone. "Mom, I still remember what you told me all those years ago when I was little." I then repeated her words at the same time I saw the exact same scene play out inside my mind, "'The world of supers is not strictly black and white. There's a lot of gray mixed in. When your father and I were active supers, there were a few times when we were forced to do things that some would call unsavory and unethical, but still done for the greater good. As long as your overall actions can prove that in the end, you can still be considered an honorable person.'"
Another sigh. "I know you know what I'm planning to do, and I know you know why. It clearly can be considered unsavory and unethical. It's something I don't have to do, but I need to do, for the greater good. Ifeel like it's the only way any kind of justice can be served now. Maybe I'll even get back some of my honor. We'll see what happens."
I stood there for a while once again, just reminiscing about certain things before saying, "Well, it's time for me to go. It's about to begin. How this will all end, I don't know. Whatever happens, it's nice seeing and talking to you all."
I reached into my jacket's inner pocket and pulled out a flower. It was of a special kind, a Rhyncholaelia digbyana. I placed the flower into the provided vase, and then put both my hands on the gravestone and bowed my head. After a minute, I stepped back from the grave and put back on my hat, hood, and sunglasses.
"See you soon," I whispered, and then turned around and walked away, possibly for the last time.
Nearly three hours later, I was laying on my back on the roof of my cozy cabin hideout, staring up at the night sky and enjoying the view. That wasn't all I was enjoying. I bought a portable Walkman radio the day before, and I was using it to listen to the biggest college football game going on in the area. My alma mater, Metro Tech University, was playing our immensely despised regional rival Municiberg College. Back when I was still in college, our football team, well, let me just say it, our football team sucked hard. It had been nothing more than a practice squad for other teams to beat up on. Apparently, though, while I was in prison, they decided to find a pulse and get good. That night, they had a chance to win their first conference championship in fifty years, but only if they got past the MC, whom they hadn't beaten in over twenty years. So far, they had a real chance of doing both.
Like I said, it was a perfect night.
I wasn't able to enjoy it for long, though. Just after halftime had ended, my watch started buzzing. I took a look at it and my mood and thoughts instantly changed.
It was time.
I turned off the Walkman, stood up, and then jumped off the roof, making a perfect landing on my feet. I entered the cabin, shut the door behind me, and then immediately glanced over to my right at the lone chair in the room. Sitting on it was specialized clothing and gear, made specifically for what I was about to do, if I still wanted to do it. That moment was my fork-in-the-road time. There was still time to back out if I wanted to or needed to. I could forget about it and really could just disappear into the ass end of nowhere. But if I left back out the front door within the next fifteen minutes, I was committed to the plan. There would be no going back.
It took only a few moments for me to say, "Alea iacta est."
I stripped out of my current clothes and then mostly dressed in the special ones. The outfit consisted of form fitting coveralls, boots, gloves, and a full head mask. All of it was matte black and made out of unique fibers. I moved around for a few moments to get a feel of them. They felt nice and seemed to have a lot of mobility. I hoped they were up to the task.
I then went into the bathroom, where I turned on the sink, put my hands under the water, and then splashed some on my face. I then took a long look at my face in the mirror. It certainly hardened up over the last ten years, and my eyes...they just stared blankly back at me, cold and dead, far from the fire and life they used to have. Even if I succeeded, some things within me might never come back.
With that, I put on the gloves and then the mask. I then walked out to the living room, took the backpack which contained the special gear, and put it on. I turned around and stood in front of the door, just staring at it for about a minute. It really did feel like a portal between live. I closed my eyes and took a few breaths.
"DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!"
"I understand," I said to myself. "I understand what I need to do, and soon, Mickey, you'll understand, too."
I opened my eyes, reached for the handle, and opened the door. I stepped out, shut the door behind me, and then looked out at the main path and the dark woods. I gripped the straps of my backpack, and then took off running down the path, at about forty miles an hour. I could've gone much faster than that, but didn't want to risk it moving through the thick woods at night.
Super speed, yep, that was included in the package along with my super strength and healing. You could also add in the options of enhanced vision, hearing, smell, and some brain functions to that. In short, my powers were greatly enhanced physical abilities and senses. They were what made me such a scary and formidable super out on the streets back then, and I would have to completely rely on them in the days ahead.
I continued running at super speed through the woods. The hunt was beginning, and it was the perfect night for it.
P.S. "Alea iacta est" is Latin for "The die is cast". It's a saying for the point of no return.
