Caped (Book 1): The Burdens of Fate (13 page)

I glimpsed it once,
"looking"
downstairs to see exactly what it was she's working on. I assume she knows I do
this because not once has she tried explaining herself.

Black lights, piles of balled up packaging
stuffed into the corner and along the walls, odd African statues placed in
specific marked locations while small silver bowls of powders and grains sit
open on the floor in the center of odd pentagrams and others indiscernible
symbols. Occasionally they would shift, as if an unseen hand disturbed the
calm, or some small critter was making an attempt to bury itself. At first I
wasn't sure if she was preparing a ceremonial feast, and nothing seemed to be
the cause of the horrendous aroma, until I seen the large black cauldron tucked
away in the back corner.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I'm apparently
hosting a witch. It's down there marinating over a small flame, which is odd
because there's definitely carpet down there, yet nothing is catching fire. It
simmers for a couple of hours, whirling around under some unseen force,
settling to a calm thick muck before quietly belching out that ungodly aroma,
condensing, then settling into a liquid and repeating the process. It's that
type of attention I'm afraid of. Neighbors talk. I see the lights coming on
when the door keeps slamming at two and three o'clock at night. And I know that
having an attractive young girl such as herself staying here has probably
raised a few eyebrows, but when they glimpse the packages or smell anything,
and they will eventually see something, then my little quiet slice of suburbia
might not be so quiet anymore.

She tries to stay out of the way, that's the
nice part; it's the least she can do after forcing herself on us. And she did
tell us there may be some strange things happening in the basement, but I guess
I shouldn't have assumed she'd try to be discrete about it. Silly me,
considering her only reason for keeping me around is so she isn't carted off in
a nondescript black van. Congratulations, I'm a personal early warning system,
but I'm so damn afraid to say anything because she's as touchy as a faulty
land-mine. It's a shitty job.

Prisca Amin
-

So I was sitting in traffic on the way home the
other day, and a thought crossed my mind.
Damn I wish I could fly to work
.
I mean sure, I wouldn't be soaring above any rooftops or anything, but it would
sure take the stress out of my commute. Something about sitting still in a car
just makes my blood boil.

Of course then I'd have to worry about everyone
knowing I'm a freak. Yeah, how about no? I don't like people in my business,
that's why it's called
my
business.

"Prisca, oh my god you can fly?"
"What else can you do?" "Show us! Show us!"
Can you just imagine all their annoying
voices? Sickening. I could rupture your freaking' eardrums, how's that for a
demonstration?

See, there I go off on those damn
hypotheticals. God, I hate people sometimes.

Yeah, I think I'll stick to the car for now.

–
3/27
–

Michael
Serna
-

Twenty-nine reports of people being dragged
into the street and beaten to death for causing L.A. If it is the work of just one man then,
at best, we've got twenty-eight innocent dead people. Street justice, witch
hunts, and a general breakdown of order caused by civil unrest. People have the
right to defend themselves, but just because someone has abilities doesn't mean
they're going to don a cape and cowl and start fighting for all that's holy and
just, or that they're planning to take over a small island in the south pacific
from which to stage world conquest. For the sake of considering ourselves
intelligent beings, can we please be rational?

And speaking of being rational, I sure could
use a rational way for me to fly out of my house without feeling like I'm
drawing attention. Seriously, after multiple decades of comic book stories you'd
think they'd tackle the subject. Unless I only care to enter/exit at night this
is a big deal. And forget about going to the city, any city. With camera phones
and surveillance cameras everywhere there's no way my face isn't going to pop
up somewhere, it's a nightmare scenario. My only option is a quick
ascent/descent, and even then I have to worry about annoying sonic booms.

On top of it all there's talk that they may
pass no-fly laws, or require you to get a permit. Seriously? I can't believe
the subject is even on the table as there's almost no way they can enforce that
it. What are they going to do, chase us down in helicopters and fighter jets?
Again, can we please be rational?

And I know I'm always clamoring on about the
dangers of an intrusive power-hungry government but I'm not so blinded that I
can see the necessity of the CRA law. Nobody's required to carry a registration
card or anything and registration is anonymous, so all the fears that America is
turning into Nazi Germany are completely unfounded. It's simple; don't abuse
your gifts and you won't have any problems. What's the big deal?

We need to stop trying to fooling ourselves,
the world isn't going to change back. Not today, not tomorrow; never. These are
the hard decisions that must be made to keep us safe, yes they're hard choices
but let's be honest, as a country, we have never welcomed real change.

When gas went up we still wanted our SUV's,
when water tables fall to drought conditions we still want our healthy green
grass, and when terrorists struck we still wanted our ease of travel. And like
good little legislators they gave us change at a reasonable pace, but we're out
of time trying to cater to the spoiled majority. Another L.A. could be a day, week, or a month away,
and the only thing to secure us as a nation and make sure we're prepared are
the actions we take right now.

The nations of the world must now take notice
of an even more dangerous enemy, and unfortunately they're living within the
very walls they've built to keep them safe.

Have they built a fortress, or a tomb?

And if I may digress from such a depressing
topic, I was scouring the internet, as I so often do in the wee hours of the
night, when I stumbled upon a forum post of someone looking for flying buddies.
He/she wants to visit the Seven Wonders of the World
and other famous landmarks, a pretty cool idea if you ask me. There was a link
to their Facebook group; the name had nothing to do with traveling or flying,
perhaps for reasons of anonymity. I bookmarked it in my browser but I didn't
bother joining, at least not now.

But I have managed to get some flying in, and
with Iris no less. She's learning to enjoy this a little more, finally letting
me take her up the other day. I guess LA showed her I've got enough control
over my abilities. She must have been be the only woman on earth who didn't
consider that type of thing romantic, and I used past-tense because I
definitely managed to change her mind, if you catch my drift.

Neil McCarthy -

I want everyone to know that I've approached
this whole situation with nothing but optimism. But we're witnessing the exact
type of nonsense I knew we wouldn't be able to escape because there are just
too many stupid people in the world.

In the nine days since the events in LA I've
managed to find over twenty cases of masked vigilantism. Cocky little runts
wandering the streets, with teleportation, telekinesis, super strength, flight,
and even the ability to change into those ungodly frightening forms. No respect
for authority.

Yesterday, a sixteen year old boy attempted to
scale the Burj Khalifa in Dubai,
currently the world's tallest building, using only the momentum of his super
speed. However, he was not fast enough to outrun the laws of physics and ended
up plummeting to his death. Darwinism at work.

One case in Miami had the subject fleeing from custody
after the police managed to bring him in on vigilante charges, the offender,
who remains unidentified, managed to escape and remains at large.

Eight people were killed in an altercation in South Africa,
the assailant managed to escape. Twelve dead in France in a standoff that lead to a
shootout with the police, again, the assailant managed to escape.

A small altercation exploded into a two-hundred
man riot in the Philippians after a female noc used an explicative against an
unidentified male harasser. The woman managed to escape but her house, husband,
and their three children, perished in the fire.

But I told you I've approached this entire
situation with optimism, no? Well, there is a tiny ray of sunshine. In the
aftermath of the carnage that has crippled the city of L.A., there have been thousands of
eye-witnesses to nocs helping people get back home, evacuate the city, and
clear dangerous situations.

It's this level of humanitarianism we need to
see from the entire noc community if they wish to change the negative opinion
of them.

–
3/28
–

Alvin Turner
-

The first people I told were my parents, mainly
because this whole fiasco was still new and I wasn't sure if I was going to
drop dead, or fall into some sort of everlasting coma. And on top of that, the
last thing I needed them worrying about was me being assassinated.

Basically, as soon as the thrill wore off and
the reality set in, I started to worry a little. I told them in person, which
was kind of a shock considering they live in Connecticut,
and that's a good nineteen hour drive from Atlanta.

It took a couple of knocks before my mother
came to the door; she thought I was a Jehovah's Witness making the rounds. Her
face lit up when she saw me, and immediately started screaming for pops to come
down.

The first thing she noticed was I didn't have
any luggage, or a car. I told her I'd rented a car, and that I parked around
the corner to
surprise
them, of course. Then pops came moving down the
stairs joking that I should call next time, or else I might catch glimpse of
"Somethin' that'll scar ya!" Yeah, thanks dad, not really something I
like to hear, doesn't help too much when all mom does is agree with it, but I
hadn't seen them in a couple months so I kind of enjoyed the humor.

Mom brought out some leftovers from the
kitchen, all vegetarian meals, something dad wanted to try and mom’s struggled
to cope with. And we caught up on things like work and their upcoming
retirement while the news ran in the background, something about a recent
hostage situation in South
Africa. It wasn't until that story came on
that dad asked what I thought about it, I paused; I wasn't really sure how to
answer the question.

Should I make something up, use it as a segue
into
"Your son's a freak,"
or just kinda blow it off and move
on?

In the end I just told them what I thought,
that stupid people crazy enough to take people hostage, rob banks, or mug
people are giving humanity a bad name. They're as close to animals that our
genetic code allows, and that I am whole heartedly terrified that most people
are assuming "we're all like that."

Hook, line…and sinker.

I knew what I said and gave no indication it
was a mistake. I was waiting to see what their reaction was. Were they going to
panic, was mom going to cry, were they going to be understanding? It wasn't
until about what I perceived to be ten seconds that I realized I'd slowed
things down a little. Definitely didn't make the moment easier for me.

The first words out were the obvious, "Are
you okay?" Followed by questions about my health; I told them I didn't
feel any different but I could see the concern on moms face. Dad, however, was
a little more critical; he could tell I was fine. After all, I wasn't acting
strange, except for showing up unannounced. He said he was glad to see me
healthy then asked why, if I was doing so well, what took me so long to visit?
Followed by a five minute rant on how nosy the neighbors are and threatening
that if he gets asked about any flying children he's going to drive down and
whip my ass himself. He'd have to catch me first.

We got a good hearty laughed out of it before I
told them I'd ran there, and to be honest I was expecting a little more
excitement.

Sure I could have explained to them exactly
what I mean or given decimal point numbers of just how fast I was, but in
middle of my dad saying, "So you can't..."

Boom! Sunglasses, beach towels, tacky shirt and
all. Hawaii!
"...fly."

No, I can't fly. But I don't think that matters
anymore.

But that's only a fraction of what's been going
on; allow me to be a little more cerebral, okay? Let me be a logical adult for
a moment. It's great we've gone and formed our superhero justice club but,
really now, who the hell are these people? Yeah sure, we got the new employee
one-minute
"This is my name and what I do"
breakdown, but on
the real, who are they? How will they react under pressure? Their personality
flaws, mental health; can they even be trusted?

Can I?

Honestly, I've never had my merit tested under
life-or-death pressure before. Where was the interview process? If this rag-tag
group of individuals failed to succeed once, what stops the same from happening
again? If we're going to be putting our lives on the line I'm going to need
more than the great father Edward preaching of a future that, just by our
awareness of it, we know for a fact we've changed.