Marrow (18 page)

A rippling shockwave threw me back. I hit the floor hard, feeling numb as I rolled and smacked into the far wall. Wood chips and splinters rained down with an assortment of shattered and tattered household debris. Everything was smothered in a choking veil of smoke. As the smoke dissipated two figures emerged from the haze, staring each other down in a psychological standoff. On one side, Spine raised both fists and bone spikes sliced out of his knuckles.

On the other side, a red cape flared in the haze.

Fantom.

It wasn't until now that I realized it. This was it—the scene from Oracle’s premonition. The smoldering hole in Oracle’s wall. The police lights flashing around her home. The bodies on the floor. It all made sense.

“Going somewhere?” Fantom asked through gritted teeth.

Spine’s face was an impenetrable mask. No emotion. Nothing. Although his raised bone spikes seemed to speak for themselves.

Spine charged.

He had obviously tapped into his bone structure because, despite his size, his movement was a blur. I barely noticed the bone-like scales that sprung from his face. They formed a solid mask over his entire head, engulfing all but his eyes and nostrils. He lunged headfirst, smashing into Fantom’s face. Fantom’s head snapped back. Before he could even fall, Spine caught him—only to head-butt him in the face again. And again. Over and over and over again. On his final blow the bony scales shattered, sending fragments everywhere.

Fantom’s head was draped back, prominent chin up and jaw open. I couldn’t see his eyes, but he didn’t seem to be moving.

Flex had been sprawled across the floor, but he struggled now to push himself upright. “No way…” he gasped.

Then it started—a flat, eerie sound. As it quickened, I realized it was mock laughter. “Ha…ha…ha…” Fantom lifted his head slowly, adjusting his jaw and tilting his head from left to right to crack his neck. The slightest trace of a smile hadn’t left his face.

“My turn,” he said.

Fantom head-butted Spine so hard he flew across the room, tumbling and smashing into the adjacent wall. Fantom streaked after him. No sooner did Spine hit the wall than Fantom’s fist connected with his face, smashing it into the drywall. Then, gripping Spine by his coat collar, Fantom ripped him out of the wall and chucked him at the ceiling like a doll.

A shockwave of air burst beneath Fantom’s feet, sweeping the floor clean of debris as he launched into the air after him. Fantom zipped past Spine’s soaring form, directly into his path. Spine’s momentum caused him to collide with Fantom’s fist once more. As Spine fell, Fantom plunged down with him, driving him faster to the ground.

Flex and I exchanged knowing glances. We hastily scrambled away until our backs were to the wall. I curled into a ball, bracing myself for the worst.

Fantom smashed Spine into the floor in an explosion of shattered floorboards, shredded carpet chunks, and all of the unconscious bodies that were still strewn about the room. Even crouched low, I was jolted off my feet, sprinkled in splinters and specks of obliterated debris.

As the haze cleared, a small but very distinct crater became visible through the house’s foundation infrastructure. In the center of it, Fantom was straddling Spine, decking him in the face over and over again, shattering the few scales that remained of his skeletal mask. Spine’s face whipped from left to right as he interchanged fists with each blow. Even though his black mask obscured the top half of his face, sweat was visible on Fantom’s exposed cheeks. His smile was gone, replaced with clenched teeth.

His eyes shifted to me.

His left fist was raised for another blow, but it halted. He lowered it. Standing up from Spine’s unconscious body, he dusted his bodysuit off. His gaze shifted from me to Flex.

“Flex, could I trouble you to call the police for me?” he asked. “Before I kill this man?”

***

As soon as the police arrived, the perimeter of unconscious cops surrounding Oracle’s house began to wake up, along with the hundred or so news crew members scattered everywhere, inside and out. The way people were moaning and crawling off the ground, it felt like
Night of the Living Dead
. Everyone was coming back to life.

Everyone except for Oracle and Spine. Both of them were still unconscious, and Fantom was seeing personally to their incarceration. It was weird seeing Fantom interact with the police. Every order he gave, they did. Even the higher ranking officers didn’t object to his unauthorized control of the crime scene. Then again, Fantom had single-handedly captured the most notorious Supervillain of all time
and
the most powerful Telepath in the world gone rogue. If the police resented him for it, they didn’t show it. I sensed nothing but respect.

Oracle’s head was padlocked inside a strange metal helmet adorned with several meters and gauges—a mind cuff. They weren’t used very often, but in the rare instance that Telekinetics and Telepaths went bad, it was the only way to keep them under control. The mind cuff absorbed any sort of psychic energy emitted inside.

Oracle and Spine were towed away in separate armed vehicles guarded by nearly half a dozen officers each.

When police started questioning the waking police officers and news crews, they were oblivious to anything that had happened. The time was a mere blackout in their memory. Even Sapphire and Whisp had no idea what had happened since the hospital elevator.

Everyone wasn't so oblivious to the beating Flex and I had given them.

Ambulances started arriving several at a time, paramedics towing people off the crime scene in stretchers. Flex and I both sat on the tailgate of one ambulance, wrapped in red cotton blankets that had been placed over our shoulders. When officers started interrogating us, Flex did the talking. I attempted to fill in the blanks, but when the conversation drifted to Spine, my voice fell dead in my throat. I’d never felt so numb—so lifeless—in my entire life.

That single tear.

I’ve always loved you.

One particular officer, Jenkins, didn’t like my speechlessness. He started pressing me specifically for details.

“So did your old man tell you anything, kid? Let you in on his plans?”

“Marrow hasn’t talked to his dad in years,” Flex cut in. “He—”

“Hey, Jack Sparrow, I wasn’t talking to you,” Jenkins snapped. His eyes narrowed on me. “Well, kid? You keeping any secrets with your pops?”

“Relax, officer,” a familiar voice intervened. Fantom approached from the crowds, entering our small circle. “Marrow isn’t an accessory to a crime. He’s a hero. Cut the kid a break.”

Jenkin’s scowled and licked his teeth behind his lips. “Yeah, whatever,” he grumbled and skulked off.

Instead of looking Fantom in the face, I found myself staring at his hands. The same hands that had beat my father in the face. Over and over again.

His knuckles didn’t even have a scratch.

“You doing okay, Marrow?” Fantom asked.

I nodded. My head felt like it weighed a million pounds.

Fantom glanced at Flex, unconvinced. Flex simply shrugged.

I could feel Fantom’s penetrating gaze return to me. I clearly wasn’t star-struck anymore; I wanted to tell him to bug off and save the day somewhere else.

“Flex, could you give us a moment?” he asked.

Flex bit his lip, peering into my lowered gaze. He nodded hesitantly. “Yeah, okay.”

Hoisting himself off the tailgate, he wandered into the chaos of blue and red flashing lights.

Fantom stared down on me for a long moment. I continued to stare holes into the ground. Finally he slouched down on the tailgate beside me.

“Sorry for beating your dad up,” he said.

Not quite the comment I was expecting. Well, maybe it was, but I think I’d imagined it just a little more eloquently.

“What’s there to be sorry about?” I asked. “He’s a Supervillain. That’s what you do. You beat up Supervillains.”

“Yeah, but he’s still your dad,” said Fantom. “Supervillain or not. I know that wasn’t an easy thing for you to see.”

“It’s whatever,” I said, shrugging. “I don’t care.”

It only felt like a half lie since I felt so numb to any sort of emotion. I
wanted
to cry. I felt like I should. But instead, I felt completely detached. Disconnected from my body, from my brain, from reality—everything. Part of me wished Oracle had just killed me. Then I wouldn’t be replaying that teary-eyed image of my father on an endless loop.

“You should care,” said Fantom.

“Why?”

“Because that just means you’re human.”

I snorted. “Well being human sucks.”

Fantom leaned back and chuckled. “Yeah, I guess it does. But then again, I suppose we’re not your average human beings, now are we?”

I didn’t respond. At the moment, I would kill to be normal. My power was just a painful reminder that I was my father’s son.

Remember what I said before? That having super powers isn’t always as super as it sounds?

Yeah. True story.

“What do you suppose it is that truly makes a hero?” Fantom asked.

I rolled my eyes. Fantom or not, I really wasn’t in the mood for this conversation. FIST had shoved enough bull crap hero pep talks down my throat to last a lifetime and a half. My gag reflex couldn’t take another one.

“Hey, hear me out,” he said. “Is it about how many people you save? Is it about how many criminals you put behind bars or how many Supervillains you defeat? Seriously. Do you know what it is?”

“No, but I have a feeling you’re going to tell me,” I said.

“Dang straight I am,” said Fantom. “In the end, being a hero isn’t just about doing heroic things. It’s about being a symbol. It’s about what you stand for. And sometimes being a symbol means making the toughest decisions. Every society needs a symbol. It’s been that way since the beginning of time. Every great civilization has had its gods and its heroes. Marrow,
we
are those heroes. When times are hard and evil is rampant,
we
are the symbols that people can look up to.
We
can inspire good in mankind. That is what being a hero really is.”

Fantom leaned towards me, demanding eye contact.

“So tell me, Marrow…what do
you
stand for?”

“I don’t stand for anything,” I muttered.

“I don’t believe you.”

“I don’t care what you believe.”

“Ah, I see,” said Fantom. “Is that why you stopped your father before he could hurt Flex?”

I had no response for that.

“You sure have a way of not standing for anything,” he said.

“It was nothing,” I said.

“It didn’t look like nothing. Aside from me, you’re the only person I’ve ever seen throw Spine down like that.”

I raised an eyebrow in confusion. I’d been here the entire time Flex had recounted our story, and he was deliberately vague on the details of how I had intervened between him and Spine.

“How…? How did you know…?” I asked.

Fantom shrugged with a knowing smile. “Well, this entire thing did go down in a room full of cameras.”

“You mean the cameras were still recording?” I asked in disbelief.

“Well, it’s hardly Academy Award material,” said Fantom. “Just a bunch of fragmented shots. But, with some careful video editing, I have a feeling we’re all going to be internet sensations by morning.”

I blinked as his words slowly sank in. I had barely recovered from my last moment of fame. The thought of experiencing that again was exhausting. At least Flex and I had Fantom to share the glory with this time. I was sure he’d absorb the majority of it like a sponge.

“You don’t look so excited,” said Fantom.

I didn’t feel so excited.

“Does Flex know about this?” I asked.

Fantom turned his head, and I followed his gaze. Remarkably, I spotted Flex in an instant. He was immersed in a small crowd that had gathered around the back of the Channel 13 news van. The bright glare of a television screen held them all captivated.

“I think he does now,” said Fantom.

I didn’t respond. My gaze remained fixed on Flex’s face. His eyes were big and then his mouth opened wide. Almost simultaneously, the crowd erupted into wild cheers and clapping. Several people patted Flex on the back. He let loose a wide smile.

I’d never seen him so happy.

“You two make a good team,” said Fantom.

Slowly, I nodded. “Yeah. I guess we do.”

Fantom was silent for a moment. “Marrow, I want to make you an offer.”

Oh, great. This again. I rolled my eyes.

“I’m really not in the mood for another photo shoot or anything,” I said.

Fantom chuckled. “That’s not exactly what I had in mind.”

“Oh. Well, please do elaborate,” I said with a notable lack of enthusiasm.