Metroman’s funeral is broadcasted over the radio worldwide. Instead of a statue of his likeness, they created a granite sculpture of a child leaning over a tombstone, crying. I think it’s a lot more tasteful. He was my hero, and the hero of everyone who lived here. His death made the sun dim, just a little bit. I, Turbine, am the sole protector of this place now, and as my mentor died in my arms, I promised him I’d do the absolute best I could. We’ve been partners and best friends since I showed up out of nowhere five years ago, with no recollection of who I was or where I came from. He took me in, trained me, and nurtured me into the hero I am today. I owe him everything and I won’t let him down.
I held it together fairly well during my speech. The crowd hushed as I spoke of what a champion of justice he was, and what an inspiration he was to us all. I told them he wasn’t truly gone, that a piece of him lives on in our hearts, in our memories, and in our good deeds. They grieved, and when I got home and put my helmet down, so did I.
It took me a while to notice, but as the days went by, I began to think that maybe the sun really was getting dimmer. Things used to be so bright and vibrant, so full of life. People shuffled along their way listlessly, as if their souls had been plucked out of their bodies. “They’re still grieving.” I told myself. But as time went on, I began noticing that people’s faces were losing color, getting almost...distorted. Like they weren’t even real. I failed to understand what was happening. Nobody committed crimes anymore. (Not that I was complaining, but it was highly abnormal!) One morning I get up for work, and at eight, the sun is dim enough to be four in the evening. That’s when I accepted that something was definitely wrong. And yet, I had no idea what I could do about it. The faces of the people I’ve come to know and love were replaced with indistinguishable smudges and dark, vacant eyes. They didn’t speak to me, they didn’t care that everything around them was fading. I admit, it started to drive me a little nuts. Why isn’t this happening to me as well? Why can’t I fade out with them? Why am I doomed to merely watch?
The nights are the worst. It’s so black, you can’t see the moon or the stars, and even the street lights are so dim, you can barely see where you’re going. Tonight, I catch someone jaywalking. I go up to him and demand he pay more attention. I point my gloved hand right in his sketchy, wooden face and it doesn’t change at all. He merely stands there like a doll and allows me to poke him in the smudged dark spots that used to be his eyes. Something inside me snaps and I punch him. He stands there and takes it. I scream out in pain and rage, hitting him again, and again, and again. Before I know it, the man isn’t standing anymore. He’s lying on the ground in a pool of what looks to be ink, and I’m hunched over him, a heaving, sweaty mess. I’ve got ink all over my hands, my chest, my helmet. I completely freak out and start running. I must be having some sort of break with reality. For weeks now, since Metroman died, it’s been a continuous nightmare. Every night, I’d pray to wake up and this will have all been some horrible dream, and Metroman will be alive and well.
What would Metroman say if he could see me now? I’m a disgrace. I find myself back at the hideout he and I shared for five of the best years of my life. I’m standing on a stool with a rope around my neck. My world is dying, I decide, and since it won’t let me die with it, I’ll find another way.
I close my eyes, say goodbye to the only world I’ve ever known and take a wobbly step forward. I expect the pain to come from the back of my neck as my spine snaps, but instead, I hang there from the ceiling, kicking my legs involuntarily as I slowly choke to death.
“Great work.” I hear in the back of my head. It’s not a thought, it’s a voice.
I feel my lungs expanding, desperately trying to grab air. The blood rushes past my ears so that my quickening heartbeat has become deafening. Everything gets blurry. I have a vision of Metroman standing in front of me, glaring up at me in disappointment. He takes his hands from his hips, reaches up and into my mouth, pulling out some kind of tube. “Don’t forget the things I’ve taught you, Turbine.” He scolds, shaking the mucus-covered tube at me. I inhale and it comes as a loud gasp.
“Oh my god!” I hear, clear as day as my eyes fling open, my hands clutching my bruised throat. There’s air! I’m gasping and panting, eyes tearing as though learning to breathe for the first time. I’m lying in some sort of hospital bed with policemen and doctors surrounding me.
“He’s breathing on his own!” Another voice states, along with a chaotic chorus of voices that follow, none of which I can properly make out in the state I’m in.
Things haven’t been this bright for me in so long, I can barely see. What is this place? Where am I? Why am I being handcuffed to the bed?
The policeman handcuffing me speaks loudly, drowning out the rest of the roaring in the background. “Richard Suede, you’re under arrest for Grand Larceny, Reckless Endangerment, Assault and Battery...”
“What?” My voice cracks. “Who is Richard Suede?”
The man stops and squints at me angrily. “Don’t play stupid, Suede. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say will be used against you in a court of...”
“Sir!” My voice is stronger now. “I assure you, I have no idea what you’re talking about. My name is NOT Richard Suede. Now get these things off of...”
“You have the RIGHT TO AN ATTORNEY!” He talks over me. “If you cannot afford one...”
“Sir, listen to me! I’M NOT RICHARD SUEDE!!” I struggle against the cuffs to emphasize my point. This is wrong, what the heck is going on here?
After several long moments of vertigo and distortion, my friend and I burst our heads above water with a violent gasp. We clamber ashore, clawing at the thick grass at the edge of the pool we’d emerged from. After pulling ourselves up, we realize that neither of us are wet; and no longer gasping for breath. That struck me as very strange. We take a moment to glance around in all directions. We’re in some sort of grove with pools of water just big enough to leap into littering the ground. Trees sprung up from all around us, so tall and so thick, you couldn’t see the sky. This place was extremely green; greener and more vibrant than anyplace I’ve ever seen before. And quiet; almost too quiet, without so much as a chirp from a bird or a subtle breeze.
“So this is Narnia?” I look up at my Giantess friend, hearing the words come out of my mouth, but not fully understanding what they mean.
There’s a long pause. “No. I don’t know where we are.”
We look at each other vacantly and shrug, and for a long time, I can’t remember how I got here. Before long, I begin to feel as though I was always here. I wander around for a while, in almost a dream-like state. Finally, after what seems like a lifetime, a noise in a nearby patch of grass catches my attention. It’s a ginnea pig. Standing over the animal is a woman; tall and regal looking with long black hair and almond skin. She’s beautiful, and through the sleepy haze of my mind, seems almost familiar.
“Hello there.” She waves drowsily at me. “Have we met before? My name is Elizabetah.”
I yawn and wave back. “Yo, I’m Oscar. I think we have met before. How long have ya been here?”
She thinks for a moment, those green eyes sharp and bright, despite her heavy-lidded expression. “I’m not terribly sure. A very long time, I think. Or maybe I’ve always been here.”
She smiles at me, and despite being twice my height, she’s easily the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Just as I think that, a tiny voice in the back of my head shouts at me, Hands off, buddy, she’s too young! I gasp. “I think I do know ya.” I take her by the waist and she smiles wider at me. “I remember....I had a dream about ya, and yer Giant father. I met ya in an alley.”
“Oh yes, I had that dream too.” Her beautiful smile fades. “I remember my father died.” I try to be sad for her, but this place is so nice, that it’s hard to muster any strong emotion. Something about that bothers me. “I think I need a nap.”
“No, Liz, I don’t think ya should sleep. I think we had somethin’ to do, didn’t we? Like, I had to bring ya somewheres?”
“Haha. My name is not Liz. Besides, this place is nice enough. We can stay here and be friends, and sleep.” Her eyes flutter closed, her broad, muscular shoulders slumping a bit.
“I remember, ya said I could call you Liz. Hey, wake up. We needed to go somewheres. Where were ya from again?”
“I...” Her eyebrows knit in confusion. “You asked me that, didn’t you? It’s a beautiful place...not as nice as this, but beautiful. Lots of ice though. It’s been winter since I was born.”
“Narnia, right? Like that book. Where those stuck up English kids beat the piss outta some ice queen, meet up with a talking Lion and...”
“What?” Something in her dreary eyes clicked. “Her Majesty, Queen Jadis? Someone beat her?”
I shake my head. “We seriously need to get ya home.” I look around at the dozens of identical pools scattered around, in between the grass and the trees. “I have a feeling that one of these pools’ll lead us there, but I dunno which. Any ideas?”
“My clan is drafted as a part of Her Majesty’s troops. If she’s in some sort of battle, I must go home and help. We can always come back to this peaceful place, can we not?”
“Uhhh, sure thing.” Boy, someone’s got their priorities messed up. “Which pool should we try though? And how do we know we ain’t just gonna go right back to my world?”
She shrugs carelessly. “Trial and error, I suppose.” Still gripping the yellow ring, she steps into a random puddle. For a moment, I think she’ll disappear and leave me behind, but nothing happens. She looks at her wet feet, puzzled. “I’m still here.” She looks at me, dropping the yellow ring into her pocket.
I step into the puddle with her, suddenly remembering the green ring. We must have both had the same notion at the same time, because we both reach into the opposite pocket of her father’s coat and touch it simultaneously.
Whoosh! We both fall through the water and for a long, dizzying moment, we’re floating, and all sense of up or down loses it’s meaning. Suddenly, we become painfully aware that we’re wet, and the water is terribly cold. I feel my lungs struggle for air and I think I’m upside-down. After a few moments of panicked underwater acrobatics, we emerge through the surface. The first thing I notice is that we’re in some sort of bay area. There’s a bridge above us, a shoreline of rocks to our left and docks several miles to the right. It almost looks like home, but I know right away that it’s not. Something in my gut, something intangible. It almost feels like you’re sneaking into your neighbor’s yard: you know you’re not supposed to be there, and you’re not sure how long it’ll be before someone comes out and catches you.
“Oh, Oscar, this isn’t Narnia!” My friend splashes her arms around wildly, as if she’s not sure what to do to keep her head above water.
“I know, it ain’t my world either. Can ya swim? I think we can make it to the rocks.”
“I’m not very good at it, I’m afraid.” She slowly makes her way over to me and I help her make the long swim towards the rocks. The air is so cold, we can see our breath, and the water is ten times colder. My chest constricts painfully, and it becomes really hard to move my numbing legs. A large part of me doesn’t think we’ll make it.
Suddenly, the water begins tossing us about. A horn goes off. We turn to see a tugboat heading towards us. Men stand on board holding out lifesavers for us.
“GAAHHH!!” Liz shrieks in horror, gripping onto me. “It’s some sort of sea beast! Swim with haste!!”
“Liz! Calm down, it’s a boat! Don’t they have boats in Narnia?” I try to still her thrashing before she pulls us both under. “Relax, they’re here to save us!”
“Save us? Boat?” Her frightened eyes search mine, then relax. “Oh yes, more Sons of Adam? I’m rather sick of them by now. Besides you, of course.”
“Hey there!” One of the Coast Guards shouts at us. “What happened, fall overboard?” I don’t answer, I just grab the lifesaver when they toss them to us. Liz follows my lead. Pulling her aboard their ship is much like pulling a handkerchief out of a magician’s sleeve. You keep pulling and pulling, and realize too late just what you’d gotten yourself into. It takes six of them, including me to yank my poor Giant friend out of the water. When she finally sprawls out on the deck, soaked and coughing like a dying fish, the men can’t help but stare at her.
“Oh my god, what is she? Is she some sort of Meta human?”One of them exclaims, slack-jawed.
I whip my head towards the guy who said that. “A meta what??”
He turns to me with a look like I had three purple heads. “What do you, live in a cave? A meta human.”
“She’s a Giant. It’s a....growth thing. Y’know...” I lean in close so she can’t hear. “Like a deformity.”
Another guy raises his brows at me. “Is she registered? Whoa, is that a bow and arrow? What the hell??” Suddenly, I wish we hadn’t let them rescue us. There’s commotion as six of the guys try to wrestle the weapon away from her. She elbows one of them in the face and he’s knocked back so far, he nearly falls off the boat. They pull guns on us. She has no idea what they are, so she doesn’t let up. She kicks one of them square in the balls, there’s a loud wet, echoing snap and he goes down like a ton of bricks.
BLAM! A Coast Guard shoots her in the leg. She screams in agony, curling into the fetal position. They finally take the bow and quiver from her. She begs them not to take her weapon, that she’ll have no way to protect herself. They flip her onto her stomach and bind her wrists with those plastic wire things. Two Coast Guards push me down and bind my hands as well. One of them is already on the radio notifying the police to take us once we get to shore. They’re calling her a ‘meta’, saying she’s got super strength. What a bad stroke of luck, this was. But at the very least, we’ll have somewhere to sleep tonight.
Meanwhile...
There’s two armed policeman outside my door and one inside, sitting by my bed, watching me to make sure I don’t escape the hospital. Near as I can figure, someone must have found me hanging there and brought me to some hospital in this far off place, where the sun still shines. I must have been unconscious for a while because I have a thick red beard worthy of Paul Bunyan. Apparently, whoever this Richard Suede is, he’s not a very popular fellow. I must look an awful lot like him, because they arrested me as him and wouldn’t believe they’d made a terrible mistake. I assume they’re waiting for the doctors to give me a clean bill of health before taking me to prison.
There’s very little to do here besides wait with my wrist cuffed to the bed. They force me to pee in a bottle because they’re too worried to unlock my wrist; that I might escape. The television here makes no sense. Their adverts are all wrong. On a weekday afternoon, they show previews to movies that are far too violent and sexual for children to see. They tell you to get plastic surgery because you should be prettier than your neighbor; like it matters. They glorify going to eat greasy fast food instead of cooking for your family. Law enforcement officers do service announcements, reminding the public to register if they have anything from a superpower to a deformity, to so much as a small physical quirk. Something about that doesn’t seem right.
“Officer?” I address the policeman slouching in the seat next to me, reading a beauty magazine.
“I’m not allowed to talk to you.” He grumbles without so much as looking at me.
“I apologize if I get you in trouble, but I have a question.”
“Not allowed to talk.” He reminds me, eyeballing me for a moment before going back to his reading.
“Sir, I’m sorry, but I must know why you encourage people to register. What’s the purpose of that?”
He squints his eyes as me, as though it was the most inane question he’s ever heard. “Are you fucking with me??”
“No need to use profanity. I just want to know.” He opens his mouth to talk, and suddenly, an advert comes on for a Bounty Hunting Agency. My face must have gone pale as a ghost because from the corner of my eye, I see him staring as intently at the screen as I am.
She doesn’t speak, she merely stands in the background with other, heavily armed delinquents as a man in a sharp business suit speaks of their service to anyone with enough money to hire them. She’s tall, clad in black leather with a curtain of long black hair half-obscuring her face. I recognize her from my nightmares.
Tripwire.
I hear myself babbling incoherently, pointing at the screen, trying to understand why she’s free and doing adverts while I’m chained to my hospital bed like a criminal.
“Whoa.” The officer gets up. “Guys! Guys, get in here! Suede’s freaking out!!”
I might be freaking out, I’m not sure. For the next few moments, things are a blur. I struggle to get free, I hear myself screaming about things being backwards, and that I shall bring justice to this place. I’m using my Turbine voice, and Metroman taught me that compromising my identity is a very bad thing. I’m being held down, and I think one of the doctors might have given me a sedative because soon, all goes black. It’s probably for the best; I’ve already said too much.
When I wake up, I’m strapped to the bed like a mental patient. There’s a woman in business attire sitting next to me, but no policemen. This is probably my court-appointed lawyer. She’s a thin, pleasant-looking young woman with almond eyes, medium-brown skin and neat corn braids. She doesn’t have the look of a novice, which is good, I suppose.
“Hello, Counselor.” I croak out, still groggy from whatever it was they pumped into me.
She smiles. “Good afternoon, Mr. Suede.”I open my mouth to protest, but what’s the point? “You know why I’m here?”
“Because those misguided gentlemen are arresting me.” I roll my eyes and glance back towards the television, which has now been shut off.
She takes a good, hard look at me, squinting her dark eyes. “Are you Rick Suede? Yes or no?”
“No.” I look her dead in the eyes. “I don’t know who this person is, but I’m not he.”
She actually looks like she may believe me, which is comforting, until she takes a hint of a condescending tone and says, “So what should I call you?” As if she were speaking to a child playing make-believe. I’m outraged and insulted, and my face must be telling her so, because she suddenly looks frightened. “I....I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that...”
“I don’t need a lawyer.” I interrupt her, my eyes boring angry holes into hers. She begins to argue with me and I continue. “Young lady, I thank you for taking the time to come see me, but no matter what I say, no matter how I prove myself, I will get no justice here. Now, please go.”
“But you do need a lawyer!” Her mouth hangs open in disbelief, as if she’s the only one in the room speaking sense. “What are you gonna do, represent yourself? Good luck!” She stands an extra moment and I turn away from her, refusing to answer. She clicks her tongue in disgust and storms out.
That night, they transport me from the hospital to Central Booking. They print me, take my blood and wave this strange looking device over my wrist. The officer looks at the built-in screen in frustration. He complains to the Sargent that my “Rid” chip isn’t working. They sit me down, chained by my wrists and ankles to the bench while they go set me up with another one. This place is terribly overcrowded. There are some strange looking people in here. There’s a man sitting across the room whose skin is entirely purple, not wearing any clothes. There’s a woman with a square glass tank secured around her neck, her head completely submerged in water. I sit alone for a while, until they sit a teenaged boy down so close to me that he’s practically sitting on my lap. Once they walk away, he bumps his shoulder into me. I don’t have the strength to fight with him. I begin to think it might be depression. I’m going from one Hell to the next and I don’t know which is worse. All I know is that I miss Metroman. He’d know what to do.
“Don’t tell me to calm down!!” I hear a man screaming and thrashing against the police as they haul him in. He looks like he might be homeless. “You ain’t puttin’ no chip into my friend, you hear me?! This shit ain’t legal! She’s got rights, y’know, and you’se haven’t even read them to her yet!”
Another policeman shouts into his face quite rudely. “Until she’s registered, she HAS no rights! Now siddown and shaddup!!” They force him to sit down onto the bench across from me and chain his ankle to it so he can’t escape. He struggles vigorously against his bonds, shouting all kinds of obscenities loud enough for the whole building to hear.
“It won’t do any good.” I sigh, shaking my head at him.
“Fuck you!” He barks at me. The teenaged boy next to me starts laughing. “Fuck you too!”
And then it hits me. “Wait, what chip are they putting in your friend, a ‘Rid’ chip?”
He gives me an angry glare, then reluctantly nods his head. “Yeah...that’s what they said. What’s it to ya?”
“Those ‘Rid’ chips are only for people who are either deformed, or have powers. Why would I have one??”
“I dunno, asshole. Maybe ‘cos ya gots Down Syndrome’r somethin’.” He sneers. The boy laughs again. “Hey! Brat! Shut the fuck up, or I’ll make you eat that ugly ass jacket!”
To maintain diplomacy, and perhaps to quell this man’s anger, I ignore his comment. “Why is your friend getting one?”
“Not that it’s any’a yer beeswax, but she’s a Giant. And she’s a really good lady, and she don’t deserve to be tagged and tracked like some zoo animal, just ‘cause you fucks have never seen a Giant before.”
“I’ve seen a Giant before.” The boy says. “My friend’s father was one. It was a superpower, I think, like he could get bigger and shit.”
“Did they make him register?” The homeless man asks the boy.
“Yeah, and one time he got in trouble, so instead of arresting him, they made him do all these public service commercials for getting yourself registered.”
“Okay, whatever. So this world has a huge hardon for registering. But I can’t let her go through this, okay? She’s really.....fragile.”
“This world?” Strange choice of words. “Yes, you’re right.” I agree. “Do you know what they do once you’re registered?”
Both the man and I look at the adolescent. He squints at us. “Everybody knows this stuff, where are you guys from, Mars??”
“Humor us.”
The boy merely shrugs. “Track you, I guess. All your info comes up on that detector, I know that. And they can even scan it at a distance, like if you’re in a moving car, they can just wave it and know who you are.”
“Finley, Matthew.” A policeman comes up to unchain the boy. “It’s time for you to get inked.” He takes the boy away and the homeless man and I are alone.
“So what world are you from?”I give him a knowing grin.
“Fuck you.” He growls. “I ain’t tellin’ you shit. You prolly work for these fucks.”
“If I did, would I be chained up like this? Would they be working on my new Rid chip as we speak?” I look at him, but he doesn’t seem altogether convinced. “Look, kind Sir, everyone here harbors under the belief that I’m someone else. Some sort of criminal, and nothing could be further from the truth. Their criminals have Bounty Hunter commercials and are allowed to walk free to terrorize people at their leisure. If you aren’t from here, you need to find a way to go back, because this isn’t a terribly pleasant place to be trapped in.”
His hard-lined face seems to become softer with my words. “Yeah, no shit.” He finally states. “What world are you from?”
I let out a nostalgic sigh. “A place that used to be bright and vibrant; where my friends counted on me to protect them, and I wasn’t the broken failure I’ve turned into since that place died.”
He pauses. “I have no idea what the hell you just said.”
I lower my head in shame. “Nevermind. It’s no longer important. The place I’m from doesn’t exist anymore. All there is for me now is this Hell.”
My head remains tucked down, so I’m not sure if he’s still staring at me, but there’s a few minutes where nothing is said and all I can hear is the low roar of voices surrounding us. “I can probably get these cuffs off.” He suddenly states, and I glance up at him. “There’s a screw that’s loose under your bench. If you can somehow knock it out and kick it to me, I can get these cuffs off and I’ll free you. But only if you help me rescue my friend.”
“Do you have a way out of this place?” I glance down, and there is indeed a loose screw holding the bench to the floor.
“Yeah, if they didn’t take it from ‘er. Man, I hope they didn’t. Can you pry it loose wit ya foot?”
“Yes, I believe I can. Once we’re both free, how are we going to leave this room, find her and get out alive?”
“I........haven’t thought that far ahead.” He admits, chewing on his bottom lip.
I can’t help but laugh. “That’s a problem, my friend.”
“Well, I don’t see you comin’ up wit any bright ideas.”
“Actually, I did think of something. I kick you the nail, you get yourself out, and I’ll conjure up a rukas, distracting the guards while you rescue your friend and get out of here.” As I speak, I struggle to pry the nail loose.
He gives me a look as if I were trying to get one over on him. “That’s stupid. What about you?”
“What about me? You’ve got someone depending on you. I’ve got nothing.”
“C’mon, man. Ya ain’t even from here. Ya gonna die here? Come with us.”
“Don’t worry about me, just get yourself out and go.” I kick the nail to him and he expertly grabs it with his foot, as though we’d been partners in crime for decades.
“Ya comin’ wit me, man.”I watch him pick his locks and discover how familiar it looks....as though I knew how to pick locks too, and merely forgot.
“Someone will spot you trying to free me...” I trail off, watching him work curiously. “Won’t a second nail make it easier?” I hear myself say.
“What’d make this easier is if this thing was thinner.” He grumbles, not taking his eyes off his work. “But I’ve done more with less. It’ll just take more time, is all.”
“Please, friend. I won’t risk you getting caught. Let me distract the police while you make a getaway.”
“Ain’t gonna happen, yer comin’ with us.”
“Why must you be so stubborn??”
“‘Cause it’s fun.”
He just about gets himself free when a commotion starts on the other end of the room. Some strange man with big red eyes, claws and teeth gets loose and begins throwing desks and policeman around. My friend uses the distraction to rush over to me. “What are you doing? This is your perfect chance– GO!”
“I’m stubborn, remember?” He grins, getting my hands free. He begins working on my leg shackles when a bench not five paces from us bursts into flame. Unfortunately, there were several people chained to it at the time. The entire place falls mercy to panic. There’s a lot of yelling and shooting as the police try to take him down, but the bullets don’t seem to be effecting him. An officer is thrown at the window, buckling the metal grating, causing the window behind it to shatter as he falls to the floor. We’re not even looked at twice as we hurry out the door.
“Where is your friend?” I call to him on our way down the long hallway.
“I dunno, I’ll just have to search this whole place until I find her!” Something else explodes in the room we’d escaped from and now dozens of police run past us to see what’s going on.
“You mean we!” I remind him. He cracks an appreciative smirk. “Try this way!” We hang a sharp left towards the tombs. Don’t ask me how I know where the tombs are; it’s almost as though I’ve been here before. In a dream, perhaps?
We turn another corner and hear footfalls from in back of us. “Hey, you two!” An officer turns the corner after us, holding up his gun.
“It’s okay, we’re on the job.” I put my hands up, trying to sound as convincing as possible.
“Yeah? Where’s your shields?”
“Check with the seven-two, man. We were undercover and got arrested by mistake. We were gonna meet the Desk Sergeant by the tombs to fill out paperwork when all hell broke loose in Booking.” I know what I’m telling this man makes absolutely no sense, but he seems to be buying it. As I speak, I can feel my friend’s eyes on me in total awe. Not even I knew I had such a talent for lying to people.
The man suddenly relaxes and holsters his gun. “Oh yeah,” He grins. “I was heading over there myself.”
“It’s a mess over there, man. We need our service pieces but they’re locked in the property room. Is it in the basement like in the seven-two?”
“Yeah, Hank’ll show you after you do the paperwork. Good luck, guys.”
“Thanks, you too.”
He waves and runs off with a dumbfounded look on his face. I glance at my friend, who’s staring slack-jawed at me. “Shit, man. That was incredible. I think we just found your superpower.”
“What?” I laugh. Inwardly, the thought makes me uncomfortable. What would Metroman say if he knew I made a habit out of being dishonest? “We’re wasting time, c’mon.”
We go down the wrong staircase and end up in the locker rooms. I explain to my frustrated friend that this is a blessing in disguise. In order to get into the Tombs, you have to be buzzed in, and in order to be buzzed in, you have to have a shield to flash at the guards. Even lawyers have to be escorted in by an officer to speak to clients. So going through the lockers and finding uniforms for us to wear grants us an all-access pass in this place; providing nobody recognizes me.
“What makes you think they put her in the Tombs?” He asks me. To our dissatisfaction, we discover that all the lockers have combination locks.
“Because they think she’s dangerous.” I look around and spot their weight room, and in the corner, a tool box to fix the equipment; I decide to improvise. “They won’t risk being in an interrogation room with her. Besides, judging by how many ‘Metas’ there are running around, they’re bound to have some sort of super-reinforced cells down there.” I come out wielding a giant wrench. It’s the next best thing to a pair of lock cutters.
“Damn, buddy. Yer pretty good!”
“Thank you, friend.”
“Um, ya can call me Oscar if ya want.” He smirks awkwardly. I nod in thanks. “So if ya ain’t a criminal, what are ya?”
“I’m a superhero, Oscar.” I smile in between slamming the lock open. “You can call me Turbine.”
“What, are ya fuckin’ wit me? Haha. That’s pretty awesome though. Ya wear tights and everythin’?”
“Um, no. I’ve got a rocket suit, and a power pack that allows me to fly. But I haven’t seen it since I woke up in this place.”
“That’s crazy. Ya think it’s in the property room?”
“That would be ideal, wouldn’t it? But I doubt it.” I finally get one of the locks open, but to my chagrin, it’s got only pictures and a sweatsuit inside a dufflebag. He takes the bag, and I turn a corner and see a locker wide open,and a man clad in a towel lying on the floor in a lake of his own blood. Never a good sign. “Oscar?” I slowly back up, my voice low and calm, my eyes darting around for the culprit to this grizzly act. “Oscar, I don’t think we’re alone down here.”
“What happened?” He comes up behind me, his eyes lock on the man’s body with a gasp. “Ah, Christ, his face is missing!” He grips the back of my shirt with both hands. I raise the wrench defensively. “Ya think whatever did that’s still here?”
I barely see a large, brown blur leaping at me from on top of the lockers. It pins me flat to the ground with an animalistic growl. I instinctually push the wrench up, into it’s enormous maw, locking behind mammoth-sized fangs. It’s some sort of Dire Wolf! It snarls and drools on me, shaking it’s head to pull itself free, giant claws dig painfully into my shoulders. Oscar courageously leaps onto the hairy thing’s back, gripping it’s ears like reigns. The beast rears up onto it’s hind legs with my wrench still inside it’s mouth. I roll to the side in case it wants to come down and crush me with it’s superior weight. The dead policeman is still wearing a holster with a .38 inside, so I grab it. Before I have a chance to aim it, the beast actually shapeshifts, from a Dire wolf to something more resembling a tall, muscled Lon Chaney Jr’s classic Wolfman. To my surprise, he reaches over his shoulder, grabbing Oscar by the jacket and executes a fluid Judo throw, flinging my poor friend like a ragdoll into the wall with superhuman strength. He bounces off the wall and hits the carpeted floor without so much as a grunt.
I empty half the chamber into the beast. The bullets do little more than force his body to jerk back as they pass through him. His body grows; he walks purposefully towards me, now beginning to resemble a wolf more than a man, complete with a thick coat, a muzzle and tail; yet still walking upright on bipedal legs. The moment of quiet allows me to hear the utter chaos going on upstairs; apparently, it’s spread from Booking into the rest of the precinct. I’m completely at a loss. If bullets don’t hurt the monster, what will? All I know is that there’s a slight chance I could distract him long enough for Oscar to go find his friend and escape. Only... Oscar isn’t getting up. Not good! The beast is pretty much fully healed by now. He rears his giant claw up to tear me to ribbons and I leap to the side, ducking behind some lockers. Next thing I know, the lockers are being lifted off the ground and thrown hard enough to break through the wall. The beast is easily swift enough to subdue me, but he’s pacing slow, exhibiting his strength, trying to put fear into me. He’s the hunter and I’m the prey. My muscles are burning with pain, and it’s my own fault. When my world began dying and the depression and madness set in, I stopped exercising the way I should’ve. Now I’m paying the price.
The beast grunts and growls, sniffing the air for me once I duck out of his view. I’ve managed to duck and weave through this maze of lockers, staying out of his sight, but I can’t mask my smell. Sounds of gunfire and tortured screams ring out above us, and in the rooms around us. I spot a fire extinguisher on the wall right in front of me. The beast comes closer, pushing a set of lockers out of his way as if he were a guy in a Godzilla suit making short work of a paper mache city. I spin to face him, and an evil, victorious grin creeps across his horrid features. He has me backed into a corner; he’s won the game. He spreads his arms Akimbo, blade-like claws out, exaggerated muscles flexing under skin and brown fur. He’s expecting me to panic and waste the rest of my bullets shooting him before being devoured. But I’m a Champion, like Metroman. I don’t go down without a fight.
The beast is standing a good five feet from where I’m standing, and takes another half-step back in surprise when I push off from the wall and take a running start towards him. He just manages to get his arms up into a defensive position, expecting me to attack him once I arrive. Instead, I collapse and slide in between his legs; the momentum carrying me a good several feet away. Before I come to a stop, I use my lowered vantage point to aim the gun at the fire extinguisher. By now, his body is twisted around to see me, and sharp realization dawns in those ink black eyes. The bullet passes between his parted legs as I had done. I don’t see the impact, but I don’t need to. The explosion makes the very foundations of this building shake. The beast is blown back several feet past where I’m laying, half exposed, half hidden behind a set of overturned lockers. The wall is reduced to a pile of rubble. The white, foamy contents of the tank is now everywhere. I get up and spot a slightly charred man lying topless and shoeless on the floor, unconscious. He looks a bit older than I, with shaggy brown hair and a scraggly beard. I leave him, running to see if Oscar is alright.
There are people at the top of the stairs, coming down, I can hear them. I reach Oscar and know right away his neck is broken from the way he’s lying, but I kneel down and feel for a pulse anyway. My heart aches for this man, this hero, who braved a beast trying to save me. Though I have no time to mourn, for there are at least a half dozen voices nearing; they don’t sound like policemen. Two bullets left in the .38, so I have to make them count, and I’m in no shape for another fight. I have a Giantess to save.
I regretfully leave behind Oscar and the Wolfman to run through the hole I’d made in the wall. It’s the property room, and there’s already a giant battle going between assorted escapees and the police. Doubtless there will be backup arriving soon; more police, SWAT, special task forces, maybe even the Bounty Hunters. A shudder crawls up my spine at the thought of having to look upon Tripwire in person. I must find Oscar’s friend and get the heck out of here.
That’s when something inside the cage catches my attention. I stay hidden behind file cabinets while the shooting and fighting continues, trying to edge forward to get a better look. No, it can’t be– my rocketsuit!! It WAS here, golly, what a stroke of luck! I must get my suit! But how?!
One of the policemen manages to shoot someone in the leg. From there, the tide turns in their favor as the escaped felons edge backwards towards the door. If they manage to thwart the felons, I’ll never be able to get inside that cage and get my gear. A rather young policeman has his back turned towards me, and out of desperation and impatience, I do something horrible. So horrible that Metroman weeps from the grave. I come up behind the policeman and put my revolver to his temple. “Put down your guns!” I yell over the ruckus. Everyone stops and stares at me in disbelief. My tone drops to a normal decibel. “I’m terribly sorry to have to resort to this fiendish behavior, but if you’ll kindly put down your weapons, I will not blow this gentleman’s brains out.” The police reluctantly put their guns down, arms out, pleading with me to see reason. The rest of the felons rush over, take the guns and begin kicking the police around, and spitting in their faces. “Please do not kill these men, they’re only doing their jobs.” I ask the felons, but they ignore me. Augh, what have I done? “Gentlemen, please!” I shout again and all attention is on me. “You must help me get into this evidence cage at once. It’s what you’ve come for, isn’t it? To get your things back? Feeling whole once again is more important than revenge.”
To my shock, they agree, and the man I’m holding hostage is taken to get the key as the rest of the police run upstairs to get help. They shove him aside once it’s open and rummage through it’s contents with purpose. I squeeze in there and tear my beautiful rocketsuit from somebody’s hands. The helmet is scuffed up and the back of it is shredded, like it’s been through a blender. The battery is busted and long since leaked empty, but I find the replacement cell nearby. How odd, it’s very much like I was in my very first clear memory, the day I met Metroman. Holding this suit, I get a strange feeling of deja vu’, but in a bad way; like something awful is about to happen. The felons are noisily arming up and shoving drugs and other things into their pockets, but I got what I came for. I feel that I should do something, like help the police round up these scoundrels, but my first priority is finding Oscar’s friend. It’s the least I can do. I can always come back for these goons.
I go off to the side, hiding between the cabinet and the wall the buy myself time and privacy to reinstall the new battery and change into Turbine. Ahh, I’m Turbine again. Though it doesn’t feel as wonderful as I thought it would. I feel constricted, ashamed, like I’m doing something wrong, but I’m not sure why. Alright, focus. The tombs are on the same level, so she can’t be far. The only way for me to get to them is to go up the stairs, and by now, the ruckus has died down some. A stray criminal or two runs by me, there are several fires and holes in the wall, one of which is completely reduced to rubble.
“Oh my god!” I hear somebody say. I turn and see a policeman, younger than I, pinned under some of the rubble. His uniform is shredded and he’s bleeding pretty badly. He’s looking at me much like he would that Woldman from the locker room. To my surprise, he says, “Turbine!” With a shudder, and cringes when I approach. “Don’t hurt me, please!”
“Why would I hurt you, friend?” I kneel down to pull some of the rubble off his legs.
“Cause that’s...” His tone goes from frightened to confused. “...Like, what you do?”
“Nonsense, I’m a superhero.” I laugh at him. Me? Hurt people? How absurd! “Can you move your legs?” He doesn’t respond, he merely continues to stare wide-eyed at me. I quirk my head at him. “How did you know my name?”
“You....you’re Turbine. The super criminal. You...blow up nurseries and steal things. At least that’s what they told me...”
“You were misinformed, kind sir.” I stand up angrily, offended at his accusations. “I’m a superhero. I trained under the Champion, Metroman for five years. I...”
“Metroman??” He interrupts me with a slight grin, holding his leg, moving it. “Metroman is a campy 60's t.v. show, it’s not real.”
Suddenly, a familiar urge bubbles over from my solar plexus, up my chest, making the back of my neck hot. My fists clench. I feel as though I were back in my old, fading world, facing the distant, wooden jaywalker. I want to beat this policeman into a bloody pulp. How dare he say that my beloved Metroman wasn’t REAL!
Sirens go off in the distance, more people run by from downstairs. It distracts me just long enough to gather my self control. Superheroes don’t beat unarmed, wounded policemen to bloody pulps, a voice rings out in my head, sounding exactly like Metroman’s. Remember what I used to say about this being a free country? I may not like what you have to say, but I’ll fight to the death for your right to say it.
I sigh and slump my shoulders, knowing he’s right, as always. “Where would they take wounded Metas, the tombs?”
“No, the tanks, downstairs.” He gulps hard. “Make a left, go out into staircase G and go past the booth.”
“Thank you.” I hold out my hand to help him up, but he doesn’t take it. A voice from over a bullhorn rings out unintelligibly from outside, followed by a flood of gunfire. “Take my hand.” I offer it stronger now. After a skeptical look, he takes it, and I help him into a standing position. “Your backup has arrived. Hide behind this desk until you know it’s safe.” With my help, he hobbles over to a large desk on it’s side in the corner, ducking behind it. “And for the record... don’t believe everything you hear.” He gives me a sorrowful pout as I walk away and turn the corner.
Staircase G is littered with the bodies of policemen. Whatever caused this riot, it seems to have definately passed through here. I meet with no resistance other than having to step over corpses. This is the most carnage I ever remember seeing, and yet I don’t feel phased. It disturbs me; and gets me to think about what the policeman had said. I have no recollection of anything before the day I met Metroman, only brief glimpses, dreams of memories, nothing more. He called me Turbine with fear in his eyes, and I can’t ignore the possibility that I might have been a different person once.
Maybe I am Richard Suade?
The man in the Plexiglas booth is still alive, cowering on the floor. His face seems almost familiar. He sees me and gives me the same terrified look the other one displayed. I go right up to the glass and stare down at him. I must know for sure.
I bang on the glass with my fist. “What’s my name?!” I shout, loud enough for him to hear me.
He whimpers, flinching violently, yet his gaze never leaving me. “Tuh-Turbine!” He quivers.
“My NAME, officer!”
“Suade!” He shouts back, covering his head. “Richard, I think!!”
Tears of shame well up in my eyes, and I’m glad the helmet obscures his view. I step away from the glass, chest and shoulders huffing like mad to try and hang onto control. Grand Larceny. Reckless Endangerment. Assault and Battery. They were right; I’m a criminal. Tripwire is a mercenary, a bounty hunter, hired to do a job... like catch super criminals like me. My god, they were right. I’m a lie. Everything I love, all the ideals I hold dear, it’s all a lie. I’m nothing but a petty crook.
And suddenly, there’s sobbing. For a moment, I think it might be me, or the man in the glass booth. But it’s coming from inside, and it sounds...female. My mind goes blank as pure instinct takes over. I run through the entrance that used to be secured by a series of gates, but is now just an obstacle course of twisted, smouldering metal bars. I enter a room with large Plexiglas tanks with tiny holes in them. Most of the tanks are empty, but one is still occupied by an abnormally tall woman with long black hair and a long polyester coat. She’s curled up in the fetal position in the center of the floor with the door wide open. The Giantess. What am I going to tell her about Oscar?
“Hello, Ma’am.” I stand in front of the open door, looking down at her, wondering how I could possibly get her out of this building alive. I’m not a superhero anymore, I mean I never really was. But even if I die here, I have to keep her safe, if just to make it up to her friend, who was the real hero between us.
“Gaugh.” She sobs, lifting her head up to look at me with the most beautiful emerald eyes I’ve ever seen. “He-Hello.” She sniffs, rubbing those eyes like a child would.
“My name is Turbine, and I’m a friend of Oscar’s.”
She gasps and sits upright, and I can see she’s got a bandage on her leg. That could make it even harder to get her out of here. “Oscar? Is he alright? Where is he?”
“He’s...outside. Fighting off the police.” Oh no, I’m being dishonest again. What does it matter? I’m scum anyway. “He has asked me to come get you and take you home. He wishes to stay here.”
“No!” Her face contorts from grief; the tears had never stopped flowing from before and now they drip down her chin in a steady stream. “He cannot leave me!”
“He’s not leaving you, my dear lady.” I approach her with my hands out for comfort. “This oppressive government wants to tag and track Metahumans like animals. He believes so strongly in the cause that he wishes to stay and help the Metahumans here fight for freedom and equal rights. Don’t you want that for him?” Those big eyes look pitifully at me, her lower lip quivering. She finally manages a small nod.
“He has found happiness in this cause?” She whispers, those eyes following me as I kneel down to her.
“Happiness and fulfillment. I assure you.” I whisper back. She tucks her chin down and searches her heart for acceptance. I let myself mourn him now, and I find that I’m mourning myself as well. I don’t know what hurts worse.
There’s noise on the stairs. No doubt the SWAT team sweeping the area. The policeman I terrorized in the booth will tell them I’m here. “We need to leave, don’t we?” She mutters. “Without him?”
“I’m afraid so, my dear.” I hear them closer now. They’ll find us any moment. I see the red dots of their scopes glinting off the walls of the empty tanks. They’ll most likely kill us on sight, me especially.
“Alright then.” She sniffs and reaches into her coat pocket. “I hope we have better luck next time.”
“With what?”
“Take off your glove.” She points to my hand and without argument, I do. She puts it into her left pocket and takes my bare hand.
Just then, a SWAT member turns the corner and spots me. There’s two more behind him. In a split second, he tenses, then lifts his SMG up to aim at me. I don’t know whether he shoots or shouts, because suddenly, I’m not there anymore. I feel like I’m floating, still holding the Giantess’ hand. We’re in water! How in the world did we get here? Both our heads burst out through the surface and there’s air. I let go of her hand and grab two fistfulls of grass on the side of the pool to steady me.
“We mustn’t idle here!” She leaps onto shore, grabbing my hand to help me up. “We’ll forget why we’re here....in this...” She looks up at the breathtaking wreath of trees, greener than anything I’d ever seen before in my life. “This...beautiful place...ahh. What a beautiful place.” A lazy smile crawls across her face as her eyes droop.
My, it is a beautiful place. She gets up, turns around and begins to walk off towards the trees. I don’t know why, but when she lets go of my hand, I feel this overwhelming sense of loss. It’s soon forgotten when I see how many dozens upon dozens of pools there are littering the ground, separated by a mere patch of lush green grass. What a calm, serene place this is. I find myself wandering around aimlessly for...who knows, ages? Have I always been here? If so, why am I still wandering? Something’s wrong. I seem to remember a dream where a tall, beautiful woman was warning me not to idle here, with urgency in her voice. I think that maybe I should find her, and get a strange sensation of deja vu’. All the pools look the same, and all the trees look the same; still as rock from the lack of even the subtlest of breezes. It’s bright and colorful with silence so profound, you can actually hear it.
And the feeling in my gut persists; something’s wrong. I begin walking, trying to force myself to panic, but it’s hard to feel anything but calm and lazy. A voice breaks the silence, and I’m all too glad for it. It’s a woman singing, and she sounds like an angel.
“Stomp the grass, cut the trees, bring the village to it’s knees....” There’s a woman, tall, regal, stunning. She’s twirling around with her arms out, splashing through the puddles like a child at play. “Take what’s ours, leave them none, make our escape with the rising sun...”
Golly, what a terrible song. But her alluring voice sends chills through me. I’m not sure if this is the woman I’m looking for, but I find myself wanting her. She spins a few more times and spots me standing there. She stops short, her long, flowing raven hair beating her in the face, her smile remaining as she eyes me up and down. “Hello.” I state, smiling at her, but I doubt she can see it through my helmet.
“Hello there.” Her smile widens. Her eyes are almost as green as the trees surrounding us; I’m spellbound by them.
“You’re beautiful.”
She giggles, wrapping her arms around herself. “You’re a flatterer. What sort of armor is that? Are you a warrior?”
“I’m...” Suddenly, I’m not so sure what I am. Am I a scoundrel? A champion? I remember another dream. A darker dream, where I’m seeking her, and she’s got a wounded leg and... “Your leg.” I take a few steps towards her. “Weren’t you wounded?”
“Was I?” She throws her arms up and looks down at herself whimsically. “I have something wrapped around my leg with blood on it. I must’ve been.” She looks back up at me. “Why do you only wear one glove?”
“I believe you might have it. You told me not to idle here.”
She checks in her left pocket and sure enough, produces my glove. I walk up to her. I can’t help myself, I must touch her. I lift up my helmet so I can look her in the eyes. She smiles down at me as I then both my hands on her hips. She towers over me considerably, but she’s so beautiful, and she smells like autumn rain. “Do you remember me?”
“I...” She squints. “Think so. Your voice, not your face.”
“I’m called Turbine. I’m a nice person, but some people would say I’m not.”
“I believe you. My name’s Elizabetah, but Oscar used to call me Liz. You know him, don’t you?.”
“Yes, Oscar.” It’s all coming back to me now. “He told me to take you home. Where is home?”
“Narnia.” She smiles wide enough to show teeth.
“Don’t think I’ve ever heard of it.”
“It’s a beautiful place, but this place is lovely too. It’s a shame Oscar can’t be here. This is such a lovely place.”
“Yes, but we’re leaving.”
“We must touch the green ring.” She takes my bare hand and puts it into her right pocket. “Do you know which puddle leads to Narnia?”
“I couldn’t tell you, they all look the same.” We stand in front of a random puddle, surveying the ground.
“It’s luck then.” She nods, stepping forward into the puddle. “Another shame; I haven’t had much of that lately.”
I take a step into the puddle as well. “It’s alright, my dear.” I push the visor on my helmet down. “Whatever it is, we’ll brave it together.” She looks down at me and smiles. I feel her hand on mine, still in her pocket. Our knuckles brush something cold and metallic, and in a flash, we fall straight through the puddle. I fear to see what sort of world this will bring us to next.
Choose Your Next Path
Back to Non-Erotic Stories
Gimmie Some Porn!
This Blows, Take Me Home.
I'm a Big Pussy! Even This is Too Hardcore For Me!
