Chapter 2: I Strike Lightning
My name is Jason, Jason Fuller. Right now that's all I can tell you until I am authorized to give you more information. I can tell you this: We are all in serious trouble! I mean it dude, we are all going down unless the right people find this story and band together to fight against the most ultimate evil this universe has ever seen! Because you're reading this story right now i'm gonna assume you are one of them, otherwise these stories would have never gotten into your possession. Ok, Agent Coulson has given me permission to brief you, so I need you to really pay attention. My friends will help me tell these stories, so don't get surprised if a jockey football player, or a sweet, yet tomboyish girl hijacks my stories from time to time. I only have a few things to say before I get started. For those of you that don't believe in God or gods, you'd better start now, or this journey will not get any easier for you. For those of you that do, prepare yourselves, it's not all nectar and ambrosia like you think it is. Also, for those of you that think being a superhero is a glamorous job, wake up and smell the coffee, it's not as cool as it's cracked up to be. Alright, now that I got that out of my system, let the story of my life (like what I did there?) begin.
6:00 A.M. EST, December 10, 2014, My House, Somewhere in the Bronx:
The blaring alarm on my iPod woke me up, and I groggily got out of bed. I had about 30 minutes until the bus came to pick me up, so I quickly brushed my teeth, combed my dreads, put on a purple shirt, some jeans, my black Jordans, and packed my school stuff. Afterwards, I sat on my living room couch, and turned on the TV. I expected to watch some early morning cartoons before the bus arrived. Instead, a breaking news report was on the air.
"Security footage confirms that at 12 A.M., five of the seven buildings that store presents for the St. Mark Industries Holiday Helping Hand were broken into, and robbed clean of all the presents inside," said a blonde reporter in a white snow suit. "Notorious villains such as Doctor Doom, Loki, Venom, and Magneto were confirmed to have played a part in this robbery, but the question is why. Heroes, Luke Cage and Ms. Marvel, arrived on the scene in New York an hour later, but by then, 50 police officers and security guards had been brutally murdered, with another 150 deaths reported at various other locations.
"Typical," I thought to myself. "Those lousy heroes never show up when you need them, but they're happy to show up after people die."
Five minutes later, I heard the screeching sounds of the bus stopping in front of my house. I grabbed my backpack, a grey hoodie, a jumbo honey bun to eat for breakfast, and headed out the door. As I left, I heard Doris say: "Bye Jason, have a good day."
"Thanks, Doris, I will, you too," I responded as I closed the door, and walked toward the bus.
Once I was on the bus, I sat down in the back seat, and put on my headphones so I could listen to music for the 30 minute drive from my house to school. So, you may be wondering why I called my mom by her first name, right? Well the truth is she's not my mom. When I was 7 years old, my parents were killed at their jobs in Times Square, when Doctor Doom and his army of Doombots were battling the Fantastic Four and The Avengers. Of course, the heroes won the battle, saved the world from whatever it is Doctor Doom was planning, but my parents were killed in the crossfire. Ever since then i've always had a burning hatred toward superheroes. Sure they do a lot of good things, like saving the world from time to time, but they're never really around when you actually need them. Where were they when Doctor Doom was stealing presents meant for the homeless? Where were they when 200 police officers and security guards were being slaughtered? Where were they when my parents were being crushed under 200 tons of rubble? In some ways, me being an orphan was their fault. Anyway, 30 minutes later, my bus dropped me off at my school, Abraham Lincoln High School. Starting out, my day was the same as always. First I went to English class. Then Math and History, which was followed by lunch period. For lunch I had a burger, some fries, a salad, and a carton of strawberry milk to wash it all down. Another thing you should know about me is that i'm not very social. At lunch, I always sit by myself, and I hardly ever talk to anyone. It's not that i'm a bad kid, or I hate people, I just never was a very social person; at least not after my parents died I wasn't. After lunch, it was time for my last and favorite class: Gym.
Gym was always my favorite class, because it was an escape for me to release some of my pent up aggression through physical activity. Today we were going to play my favorite game: dodgeball. I loved dodgeball because it was a game of strength, speed, accuracy, and awareness. Plus I got to throw stuff at people's faces and not get in trouble for it.
"Okay kiddies," said Coach Johnson, our gym teacher. "Line up. Time to put you in groups. Crosby, Fuller, you two are captains. The rest of your team members have been chosen. You have five minutes. Get ready."
Either by chance or by choice, Coach Johnson had me on a team filled with dorky, unathletic, and uncoordinated nerds. The other team however, was filled with strong, jockey looking muscle heads. Personally, I don't know why the coach put me on this team. I had the best grade in the class, plus I dominated every sport we played. I dunno, maybe it was to give the nerd squad a fighting chance, or more likely, Coach knew about my rivalry with Crosby. Ethan Crosby was this six foot, messy brown haired bully rich kid that was in the 11th grade with me, but barely. He was built like a football player, and although he was rich, always dressed in ripped shirts, ripped pants, and dirty flannel jackets. Ethan's favorite pastime activity was to beat up anyone that had higher than a C in three or more classes (probably cuz the guy has never made more than a D+ in his life). That made me a prime target, due to the fact that I have three A's and one B. You'd think that after getting three black eyes, two bloody noses, and five knockouts, the guy would take a hint that I wasn't gonna take any of his bullying $#!+, but like I said, he wasn't very bright. Come to think of it, I was glad that the Coach had arranged the team like this. It was a perfect way to beat Ethan and all of his goons in front of the whole classroom. Even if it killed me, today I was going to beat Ethan Crosby…..again!
Once our five minutes were up, both teams went to opposite walls of the gym, and waited for the coach to start the game.
"3,2,1…...DODGEBALL!"
The game did not start out in my favor. Remember how I said that I was on a team of nerds with no sense of coordination? Well, when the game started, while my team was running to get some balls, a Chinese kid named Cheng Lee tripped and fell. This wouldn't have been too bad of a thing, but somehow he managed to trip me, as well as six other team members. To make matters worse, Ethan and his team got every last one of the balls, and eliminated the remaining four members on my team who were still up. Great. Now, instead of going on the offense like I wanted to, I had to play defensively until I could get a decent amount of balls on my side. The game started to go in my favor when John Green threw a ball at me, which I caught and threw at a guy named Mason James. Suddenly, the game was at a 8-6 ratio in Ethan's favor. Not so bad right? WRONG! 30 seconds later, Cheng tripped and fell again. Somehow, in an impossible, you-couldn't-mess-up-this-badly-even-if-you-tried action, he managed to trip the remaining four players! Crosby and his team took advantage of this opportunity, and attacked the nerd pile in a great and terrible volley of red balls. The game was now at an 8-1 ratio. In other words, I was f%*#$. Most of the balls were still on Crosby's side, and he had that look in his eyes that a predator has when it knows it's prey has no escape. Crosby ordered his team to spread out, trying to cut off any and all chances of escape I had. After they setup, they threw everything they had at me in another volley of dodgeball fury. So basically, I lost the game right? WRONG AGAIN! In the last few seconds before impact, time seemed to slow down; like the balls were traveling through jello. In that small pocket of slowed time, I saw that two balls were traveling at me in just the right way, that I could catch them while avoiding all of the other ones. This type of play would be impossible for anyone to do, given the speed that the balls were traveling at, but like I said, time seemed to slow down. I ran towards the two balls and caught them. They hit me square in the chest, and it hurt a lot, but at least I had eliminated two of Crosby's goons! Plus, now all of the balls were on my side! The game was now at a 6-1 ratio, there were 7 minutes left, and I had to eliminate six guys in such a short amount of time. Somehow, I was still gonna pull this off. I gathered all of the balls, and lined them up a few feet from the no crossing line. Next, I took the balls two at a time, and bounced them as high as I could into the air. It was time to turn this game around. When two of the balls came down, I quickly grabbed and threw them at two guys named Adrian and Jerome, who were too stupid to realize that looking at bouncing balls is not a good strategy in dodgeball. The balls hit them square in the chest and bounced back over to my side. Next, I grabbed two more balls, threw one at a guy named Henry, and another at Ethan. The ball I threw at Henry hit him hard in the head, but Ethan dodged the ball I threw at him; which sailed far back into his territory. The game was now at a 3-1 ratio. As Ethan scrambled to get the only ball that was on his side, I grabbed two more balls and threw them at two other guys on his team. I completely missed this guy named Clark, but another guy, Shawn, almost caught the ball I threw at him! I quickly grabbed another one, and threw it at his arm, causing him to lose what little control he had over the ball, and drop it. Clark, who was the only other person left on Ethan's team, threw a ball at my legs. I quickly ducked and caught it, taking him out of the game. Only Ethan and I were left, and there was only 5 minutes left in the game. For three minutes, Ethan and I competed in a seemingly endless cycle of throwing, dodging, ducking, and more throwing. He may have been a moron, but he was an athletic moron (seriously, the guy was on the football, hockey, and the wrestling team; he was a monster). Finally, with one minute left on the clock, I made my winning move. I took two balls, and threw one as hard as I could at Crosby's legs. He jumped over it, and with a roar, I threw the other ball as hard as I could at Crosby! The ball hit him hard, with a very loud PANG, lighting up his entire face! He fell back four feet, before crashing to the ground! Just like that, I had pulled off the biggest upset in dodgeball history! Even Coach Johnson gave me props, before sending me and the rest of the class to change back into our regular clothes.
After I was back in my T-shirt, jeans, and my gray hoodie, I went back to my seat on the bleachers, and grabbed my Percy Jackson The Olympians: The Lightning Thief book to read; tryna finish chapter 12 (as if this wasn't my 7th time reading this book), before the bell rang to go home. Just as it got close to calling it a day, I noticed a huge shadow loom over me, and I heard the sound of Crosby's voice muttering insults over my head.
"You must think you're pretty special huh, you little punk?" he growled.
"Well I dunno, Crosby," I responded. "After I just spanked you and your dogs...well...yeah. I do think i'm pretty special. Wouldn't you agree?
Crosby reached down, grabbed my book, and threw it across the gym. I stood up fast, with a look of the utmost hatred and loathing. The class was starting to circle us now. They knew what was about to go down.
"Aww, what's wrong little guy?" he taunted me. "Did I hurt your wittle feelings? You gonna cry? I know I would if I didn't have any parents! No wonder you're so pathetic!"
Everyone, including myself, had shocked looks on their faces. It was no secret that I was an orphan, but nobody ever had the guts to use that as ammo against me in a fight. Then again, after witnessing what I can do to someone in a fight, nobody ever gave me too much trouble, except Crosby.
"Crosby, shut up," I said in a dangerously calm voice.
"I suppose being an orphan wouldn't be so bad," he continued. "If you actually had a foster mom who wasn't an old bag of dirt."
"Crosby, shut up!" I said louder.
"At this point I was beyond livid. My insides were starting to feel like lightning.
"But I guess you were the best piece of trash she could find in that dumpster of an orphanage, you little-"
"CROSBY, SHUT UP!" I shouted as I balled my fist up, and slammed it into his gut!
I don't know what happened next. I remember a loud boom, like thunder, and when my vision wasn't so blurry I saw Crosby lying 10 feet away from where I was standing! His clothes were burnt, and had holes in them, as if he was blasted with fire! Everyone was running and screaming as if they had seen something scary!
"DUDE, DID YOU SEE THAT!?" Adrian asked one of his buddies.
"HIS HAND WAS ALL-" said another.
"WAS THAT LIGHTNING!?" said a screaming girl.
I had no idea what had just happened. All I knew was that whatever I just did to Crosby, it wasn't natural. I did the only thing I could do. I ran away.