*Hassshh*…jish…xish…xing…xike…wake…*

  *wake…*

  “Wake…up!”

  “WAKE UP!!”

  Like it was his first time ever, like there was nothing before but all after, Seth shot awake. Surprise and shock in equal measure, blank memory and yet residual adrenaline running their courses. Until both were stifled by the weight pressing against him. A comforting feeling. A familiar feeling.

  The closet, the mountain of clothing burying him. Nothing had moved, nothing had changed. The light of the outside world still shined through its upward pinhole. Though shifted from the dim blue of dawn to the burnt orange of approaching dusk. He’d… fallen asleep? Been out for a long while? A faint recollection held, a want to sleep-in fulfilled. But now the will to get up was finally there. Yet… his body refused to budge.

  Not from the weight of the coats, the shirts, the pants, and everything in between. But from the weight of itself. The weight pressing him down was his own. So sapped and weak, he couldn’t even free himself from a few layers of clothing. Though the vacuum on his foot really wasn’t helping.

  But still, this weight was comforting in its own right. Surrounded by the softness of the forgotten, and with no energy to expend, that will to be productive was waning hard. So Seth just felt like going back to sleep. Back the rest he was denied before…? Something. What did wake him up before?

  But, as soon as he sunk his head down into that confused drift, he regretted it. For every coat and jacket and discarded piece of clothing in this closet hid something.

  A hanger.

  The cold metal poke sprang him out of his drift, jabbing at the back of his head like a sickle. And bringing attention to all the other hangers in this mountainous pile. One was hooked around his jacket sleeve, one was poking him in the ribs, a further two were hooking his pajama pants, and finally one threatened his face if he were to ever rise out of this twisted pincushion of a cradle.

  So… he was utterly trapped. Tired to a debilitating extreme. And barely able to… to remember what happened.

  ‘What did happen?’

  He remembered getting out of bed, walking around Tlatoani, seeing his parents. But it all felt… jumbled. Fuzzy. Like… like he’d never remembered stuff properly before. Like this was all he had. He knew he had more, knew there was more. Growling at the emptiness he shouldn’t have he tried again. Strained to find something, but all he got was almost literal static. And… words? He couldn’t understand them but…

  *Haassh…ecsh…ecoutez…liutez…listen…*

  “LISTEN!!”

  Out of the mental fuzz came a voice, one he could understand after it passed through several layers of static and random sounds. One of them sounded like Spanish, like a radio was dialing through channels. He looked around his hand-me-down tomb but saw no source.

  “Lisshh… Listen!”

  He frantically searched, whipping his head from every glinting hanger to too small graphic tee, to coats older than he was and every corner of that only hole in-

  “llllisten… to… Me!!”

  Suddenly Seth’s head felt as if it were being held in place. Like large rough hands were wrapped around his head. His eyes defocusing, as if trying to see someone close up. But there was nothing there, no one there. Just the empty space colored dusky orange grabbing him with invisible hands.

  “ssssSorry, y-you were scaring us a little.”

  The voice, clearer and softer, spoke like it was trying and calm him. Coming off jaded, guilty, yet still sincere. If failing a little.

  “Don’t worry, we aren’t here to hurt you.”

  The voice was so low, almost inaudible. But was the only sound there even was with the world so closed and deadened by fabric. So it was all Seth had. He tried to ask who they were, wanted to scream for help, but… but…

  “h…”

  He couldn’t. It was like he knew what to say but couldn’t remember how to say it. Like he couldn’t speak with his own mouth.

  “*hissshh*…Oh, that’s uh… complicated.”

  But… the voice responded anyway. Like it didn’t matter, like there were no barriers between his thought and this strange voice holding him still.

  “Oh yeah, ugh sorry about your erm *hhissh*… voice. We had to… borrow it. So we could learn to speak to you. Don’t worry, we can give it back to you. It just might be… a while. Each of us needs to use it to learn and there’s a lo- *hsh* *sigh* Just don’t worry, okay.”

  Seth’s vision refocused and his head seemed freed from its phantom grasp, but he knew deep down now where this voice was coming from. It was inside his head.

  “Yeah sorry again, we needed someone to take us in, but we weren’t expecting to all be in just one… *hsh*”

  The voice responded to Seth’s thoughts, his feelings, but also to someone else. He couldn’t understand them, but felt their apprehension-

  Wait, he could feel a lot of things. There was fear... directed at him. There was guilt. A lot of guilt. And-

  “Heh, yeah. *hish* Cat’s… out of the bag? What’s a cat? Anyway, yeah, what you’re feeling is everything we are. Call it a side effect of what happened- *HHHSSshhh* WE are a part of you now, kind of. And, by extension, you are a part of us, kind of. It’s just some of us are a little concerned what this might cause and want to keep separate. But I think you need someone to talk to, or at least someone to help you understand. And really, we are all in this together so leaving you out of this like some kind of… beast of burden? Your sayings are weird. It’s only going to make things worse for all of us. So… So what do you saaa- oops sorry. What do you think? You okay with us... being here a bit?”

  Seth felt a numbing, the other emotions ebbing away. Like they were lessened so he could think or something was blocking them away. He didn’t know what all of this was, who all these people were. Or even what they were. A small want to panic tried to unravel all the progress made but… But of everything he felt, none of it was hatful or angry. He thought of why they were here, what they needed from him, but couldn’t feel anything extreme. He couldn’t remember what happened, how he got buried or why he was so tired, but he felt as if these people were all affected by it as well. Like what was supposed to happen didn’t and now they are all stuck. Just like him. Or at least stuck with him.

  Sympathy, guilt, and… hope. Hope that he would accept this strange situation.

  He thought again, this time with focus, this time directing it at the others now seemingly camping out inside his head. Trying to…

  ‘o… o… Okay.’

  Words forming where he couldn’t say them aloud. Thoughts direct and not just inward commentary for his own sake. The numbness fell away as that direction became clear, replaced by a rush of the stifled emotions. Relief predominantly among them. And a smile almost outright felt by the one closest to him.

  “Thank you. And here, let’s see if we can’t get you out of this pile.”

  At this Seth felt an odd tingle, an almost electrical buzz through his entire body. And with it, the weight dragging him down lifting off. In fact, he felt lighter than ever. All the tired ache in his muscles falling away, like they were swelling and relaxing all on their own. All the cold pokes just becoming mild annoyances. All the stuff piled over him just nothing at all. He moved to lift the top off his thrift store sarcophagus, but despite his now revitalized body, he was stopped. More appropriately snagged by the ever present hangers.

  “hrrrmmm!”

  Strength wasn’t much without leverage.

  “Oh, yeah, here I think I can get those for… Wait why’s that-”

  Without warning that tingle returned and spiked. Every hair on his body stood on end. And all those twisted hangers seemingly starting to recede into those clothen walls. But Seth could not only feel their growing absence, but also their movement. Like he could feel every one of them, even the ones not close to him, even the ones that stayed up on their racks. Like that radio wasn’t just metaphorical and his sense of touch was out of wake as well. But, in that same instant he felt them, they not only receded but shot away at speed.

  Simple metal forms turned ballistic projectiles, repelled violently away by force completely out of nowhere. Ripping away with fabric caught along the way. Imbedding themselves into the walls of the closet. The vacuum pinning his feet included, smashing plastic bits apart as its metal core impacted deep. But… but now that he was free… the only thing Seth could feel-

  Was a searing screaming pain!

  One of the hangers had hooked his thigh on the way away and gashed it across! Blood splattering his pajamas in frantic beats, as cold replaced what should be warm!

  “*HHSH* OKAY!! That was NOT supposed to happen!!”

  Reeling, curling up in squeaking muted pain, he threw away what clothes he could grab at. Digging desperately out and away while the gash in his leg yelled for attention. Ripped edges demanding restitution for the loss and taking it out on him. But Seth couldn’t even vocalize any of it, only managing hollow wheezes as his eyes locked wide. Once his wound was uncovered, he saw more blood than he’d ever seen. His grey pajamas now soaked and tattered, and the gash…

  The gash was gone!?

  “There… huh… That was close. That was apparently a very bad artery to hit. Also didn’t think you’d take to the power so… easily.”

  The gap in his pajamas, frayed and rippled, now only showed pale skin between dark red spread. Still covered in loose blood, but no grievous wound that had been demanding what he couldn’t offer. Seth was speechless… err…

  “Yeah, that’s one of the perks of being *hhsshhs*, get to heal pretty easy. Even force it with enough focus at it. It’s just a lot harder to numb the pain. But don’t worry, we can teach you- *Hhsh* Yes WE can- *hshshhh* You saw…!”

  The voice receded as if stepping away from in front of him, like they had been standing right in front of a pinhole now empty. Leaving Seth to poke the now closed wound. Probing for anything to tell him he was dreaming or that he was ever hurt so badly. Except it was just his leg, fully healed up if not better. Just the shock and residual sensations left to know he was even hurt. Not even a single tear rolling down his face. Leaving him with nothing but soiled pajamas and the wider world to take in.

  Boxes on shelves had overturned, poured once vacuum sealed stuff out like dump trucks to a pit. The racks lining the walls were almost barren… And bent away in places. The walls were all skewered with hangers, most so deep in that barely a corner stuck out from the cracks and holes. Seth turned around to look behind him and saw more violent hanger-wall interactions, but what dominated the back wall was a massive crater caving it in. The one…

  The one he made…

  As he was shot back.

  As he was struck by that lightning bolt!

  As his mind faded away!

  As he was watching-

  ‘MOM, DAD!!!’

  He shot up, ducking past the handle of the vacuum that was still sticking out of the wall, climbing over the discombobulated doors that leaned every which way. He though he heard that voice return, try and tell him something, but only a whisper came through as his own fear buried them desperately trying to get through. As he finally made it to the door frame…

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  And froze in the light.

  Outside the sun was setting, hanging off to his left and still lighting up his street. The burnt orange had darkened it, warmed it up, but all he could see… all there was…

  Was nothing.

  Where his neighbors, his friends, his parents were stood, there was barely anything even signifying they were ever there. Just empty streets, grass and asphalt, homes and… And a red scarf caught on his front step. Blowing in the wind. Blowing away from the sun like it was a stellar wind. His breath caught in his throat, he could barely process what he was seeing, what it meant.

  But in that moment, Seth saw what was truly left.

  That wind carrying tatters, barely pieces of cloth wisping past. Pools of what were once pants and shirts in places it couldn’t touch, pieces draped and caught on every edge broken and blown out of his neighborhood. On the slinters, the glass, the holes, the burns. The shadows scorched into the sidewalk. In every shattered window, across every broken car, lost in every devastated doorway. In everything facing that wind.

  That hot oppressive wind.

  He turned to it, to wish it was the sun just shy of the trees. But there was no such light shining to warm his face. Only a wall of black lit red. As if the horizon was on fire.

  As all that strength given, faded away to crushing weight once again. And dropped him to that catching stoop, scarf seen in no uncertain terms, in unstoppable meaning. Scooped up and hugged for all the warmth it still had. So little it had in spite of that burning horizon. As time failed to hold him. And everything collapsed in on itself.

  Seth stayed sat on that front step for what seemed like hours, head sunken into dampening folds of his mother’s scarf. The winds had died down as the light faded. A light drizzle starting and sapping everything left away. But the fires on the western horizon still burned. Still lit it with lapping inferno and gritty rain drops.

  But he didn’t care, he couldn’t care. He… he couldn’t even cry. For his mom, his dad, his neighbors, for anything. Stuck, just sat there face down in that scarf feeling nothing when he should be feeling something, anything. Desperately wanting to just disappear into the folds and never come out. Because he shouldn’t be feeling nothing.

  The drizzle continued, the pattering of drops across the dead town the only sound left to it. No crickets, no birds, nothing but rain. A slight gust and shift of the wind, and for a second the drizzle subsided to silence. Long enough for that voice, that thing in his head from before, to try calling out to him. To tell him it was okay, it was all okay. But the rain stifled them before it could reach anything but that strange emotional sharing. All of it lost to the pattering.

  But… but the event was enough to snap him out of this muted and numb sorrow. To take in the change of day at least. To see the sun had gone down and the world was moving on without him. And to notice the growl of his stomach against inadvertent neglect.

  He was hungry. Very hungry.

  So, left with nothing but himself, he got up from that step with effort enough to sink a battleship in his wake. Turning about to get out of the hot rain beating against his scalp, and heading back inside. Heading toward the kitchen with nothing but a cramping stomach guiding him on.

  The rain was softened by the home, but still reverberated through it. Mostly because the door was now permanently open. But the rumble of his thorough emptiness would have drowned out everything anyway. So that not even those internal feelings could get through to him.

  Once in the kitchen though, he saw what was left of his parent’s morning. Cold coffee, cold over-steeped tea, and all the tools and fixings for waffles. Seth hungrily shuffled over and reached up to the counter he just barely peaked over. Pulling down the waffle iron and hugging it close with all the strength he had left. Setting it on the floor so he didn’t have to reach, forgetting it had a plug but who cared anymore.

  Then he grabbed at the mixing bottle left beside it. A familiar smell flared that growling pit, demanding he open it already. Inside he saw the distinct sparkle and swirl of brown sugar in the batter. His parents knew he liked it, even when they messed it up and added too much cinnamon or cranberries or just other stuff that didn’t belong. But… but they only made it right on special days so…

  ‘What day is it?’

  He still couldn’t remember much, like half of his mind was just a blank. But he still knew enough. Looking toward the fridge he saw their calendar had fallen from it, as had all the magnets keeping it up. It was the Heroes of East Asia edition, though he knew next to nothing about the region beyond what the first few months had on them.

  His parents liked to tell him all about who was on display, what their country was like. What their food was like. It was kinda cheesy, but he knew stuff by heart that way. Even if the food they tried to make ended up nothing like the pictures they showed him. Though the heroes from all those different countries got overshadowed by the more local stars. It was hard to forget what you saw on TV just yesterday.

  The calendar though was splayed every which way, so he got to peek at the ones they hadn’t gotten to yet. Like Japan and Korea and some places called Mainland Taiwan. But despite that, the days were all marked down so he could see which pages to ignore for now.

  He found July, the calendar showing a propaganda poster of Major Nguyen. Or at least a bunch of him. He was lifting a stereotypically American tank from over top of a family. His mom had said it was a different time or something, but he didn’t know why that was. Vietnam sounded so nice, if a bit hot. And wet. The days on the calendar proper though were barely marked two weeks in, but…

  But he…

  He could see what was written on…

  On the last date.

  The current date.

  Saturday 13th

  *Seth’s Birthday*

  The calendar slipped from his hands. Hungry strength slipping from his legs and everything else. He fell to his knees still half stained in hours old blood. The gravity of his whole world was coming down upon him. The meager sliver that was left of it. His… his parents were gone. His neighborhood was gone! His… his piecemeal life that seemed made of Swiss cheese was…. All of it was gone! All of it taken away… on his birthday. Why…

  Why…?

  ‘WHY!?!’

  Without warning the lights in the kitchen started flickering, practically strobing as he hyperventilated their rhythm. The waffle iron left unplugged on the floor starting to heat, smoke, then melt in on itself. The fridge shook and rumbled, the stove tops lit up and burned, the oven garbled its counters and overheated to creaking, and the coffee maker sputtered itself apart. Silverware became a symphony in their drawers, handles and rails shaking with them. The sink groaned and leaked and sprayed as its heads came free. Outside the window the entire town began flashing in course. Car alarms blaring, entire houses flickering in the dark ashy rain. Sirens for disasters warbling like they couldn’t hold to their failed duties.

  The streetlights went first, shattering in sequence away from the home, filaments exploding with too much power to hold behind glass. Then came the cars, their batteries running off and melting down as their lights shared their fates. Transformers on their poles soon flashing in spectacular overload across the town, the entire grid rerouting backwards into them without care for what they already contained.

  The first exploded, thundered against the dark in green arcing fire, igniting in the farthest reaches of this flashing town. The rest following suit, detonating in sequence and lighting up the storm and ash coating the sky. Splaying their powerlines in arcing catastrophe. Concentric rings flowing back toward their only accepted output. Toward Seth.

  His knees charred the floor below him, a burgeoning grimace trying to break through his enforced emotionless hell. As he just stared down at that now charring calendar caught under his fallen hands, eyes unable to look away from its message even as it burned away. As his stained pajamas and frayed jacket burned with it. The dead magnets strewn across the floor revived and crawled toward his legs. The barest amount of emotion soon forcing its way to the surface. In teeth gritted and fists clenched across blistering linoleum. His thoughts spiraling completely out of control. Spiraling down to inscrutable emptiness!

  Seth was losing it, the transformers on his street were popping and now the power sockets were burning. Plastic covers lighting on fire and drywall curling back in pain. The final transformer outside his house finally exploded sending a shower of green sparks dancing across the lawn. The sockets finally giving out and shooting pure streams of electricity straight out of their melting cooper toward the swirling field forming around him. The magnets, the burning calendar, the once cold drinks, everything not nailed down in the kitchen was churning around him like a maelstrom. The table, the chairs, the slag that was the waffle iron. Plastic and wood caught and burning around screws, the drawers disgorging and sparking their clashes into the whirling metal storm like an out of control microwave.

  All as Seth clenched tighter, now bleeding from his palms. His teeth almost cracking from the pressure subjected to them without will enough to care. Everything was lost, everything was gone! He was all that was left and barely had anything to show of it! A life full of holes, full of darkness and nothing! The only thing he had, the only thing he was allowed, the only thing screaming in the beat of his heart in his ears-

  Was finally snapping all of it apart!!

  He snapped, his teeth snapped, his palms snapped, and the sky snapped with him! From that pitiful light drizzle outside came a lightning bolt straight through the house. Tearing through the roof and his parent’s bedroom, burning a hole straight to the kitchen. Straight to the only thing left in his entire world!

  “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!”

  He yelled, yelled like he’d never done before, the lightning screaming with him, channeling straight into him! The kitchen burned, was blasted apart. The windows blew out, and the vortex turned into shrapnel. The power tearing through him and denying that emotional dam, refusing that muted sorrow. A path burned parallel like his nerves were on fire. Like he was on fire! But nothing could be as bad as it already had been!

  But the lightning subsided first, plunged the world into violently drained darkness. Even as the last dregs of Seth’s throat sputtered his defiance to the oncoming silence. Then he fell, releasing and dropping down into a curled up ball in the now dark and decimated kitchen. His eyes forced closed, his palms bleed dry, the floor a smoking crater of overcharged wrath.

  The rain stopping by sheer fear alone. And the town going silent once again. The dam was broken open, in spite of whatever had put it there. As a single tear streaked down his face in some horrific pyrrhic victory. As that silence was refused in the only thing that could fill it. With a whimpering sob. As he was finally able to cry for everything that was gone.

  And as the blasted world he was left with faded away to-

  *rRr r-*

  The alarm clock blaring for barely a note before it too was silenced.

  Seth felt like he was fully awake, or better yet like he could barely stand to sleep in the first place. The nothingness of his nocturnal life barely leaving a thought behind. He was too excited to feel bad about it. What was a dream anyway? But still, his groggy eyes felt watery. So maybe there was something. Or he really was just tired beneath the excitement. Because joining the League of Supers was about the only thing he could call a dream in his life. Or better yet, a promise.

  And now. Now he was really doing it. He’d had to cut things close to the start of their application deadline, basically their start date, but materials take time. And the serendipity of it all seemed to like him.

  He was up and his bed made in short order. A plain grey t-shirt and fresh khaki cargo pants slipped on in a snap. And actual shoes put on so he wasn’t wearing connector slippers like yesterday. A good few torn pairs forcing him to choose heavy duty work boots over simple tennis shoes. Though his spares were packed as well, along with plenty more he could want along with him.

  A rucksack lying next to the door, stuffed full of everything he had. So not really much other than clothes and souvenirs. If he was ever coming back here it wouldn’t be for a while, so the last of his food had to go as well. A loaded down sandwich of the last of his peanut butter and banana already getting eaten. And his application form for the League’s recruitment course spread out on the table in front of him for review.

  Some of the info had to be fudged a little, all the files on him were in limbo since the orphanage closed. But he wasn’t a complete ghost. Plenty of tax forms to say he existed at least. But a good bit of his records were cobbled together from what he could apply for once he actually turned eighteen. Which wasn’t a whole lot, but being an orphan was the poor man’s version of cutting red tape.

  Seth Tarrow. Age: 24. Hair: white. Eyes: hazel. Blood type:

  ‘Eh… unknown.’

  He hadn’t really been to the doctor ever, or really needed one for that matter.

  Height: 5.10’. Weight: 170

  ‘ish.’

  Address: 20090 Mako Rd. Apartment: 304. City: Kadia

  ‘Yadda yadda, nothing I can’t talk out of if it came to it.’

  Mostly why you want to be a hero. Descriptions of your power set. He’d gone with simple super strength and speed, with a bit of a need for containment leaked in so he could justify the suit. Static discharge was a common enough by product to warrant, and aesthetics could cover the design. And this recruitment course was months of work just to see if you’re even capable of been on the roster. Plenty of time to prove his worth before anyone really knew his full strength. And eventually started asking questions. He needed to show he wasn’t like… That the Garkah were different. That he could control his powers. That was the entire idea behind the suit after all.

  Fed and ready, Seth set out to grab said suit. Taking on last look over his dingy apartment for everything it meant. Stepping out and locking it up for a hopeful good. And ending up with Ms. Mahan on intercept course, climbing the stairs again after getting her mail.

  “Morning… Ms. Mahan.”

  Seth wasn’t good with actual goodbyes. He met her at the landing to her apartment, shouldered rucksack making it obvious he was leaving for a while.

  “I-”

  “Oh! Just go follow your dream already!”

  Seth went flat. She’d usually tried to temper his excitement.

  “What? You thought you were sneaky about it? Well ‘Old Ms. Mahan’s’ been around the block more times than you could imagine. Seen enough young kids go off to do good in this world. Seen them get the shit knocked out of them sure, but you can’t keep em down for long. And let me tell you something…”

  She squinted close, her oddly blue eyes more apparent.

  “You’ve gottem beat in more regards than you know. So don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, you understand! You deserve this chance. I’ve seen how hard you’ve been working toward this. Now go and beat the crap out of whatever they throw at you. And come back a hero, I don’t want to be the only one living in this dump.”

  Seth shook off the sudden cascade of unexpected motivation and utter voiding of his pride at being discovered so casually. And yet smiled, he knew she was keeping quiet about something but this was… He nodded and turned down the stairs, a hell of a smile knocked onto his face.

  “And if you get the chance…”

  Seth turned back as she was closing her door.

  “Tell Aegis to stop holding back so much.”

  Seth froze.

  “Huh?” ‘Wait, how does she-’

  But she slammed her door shut and broke his questions apart. He shook the mounting possibilities away. He needed to focus. Storming outside, he skipped the stoop again and flung the hastily repaired garage door up without a second thought. The full suit was hunkered down in its berth, ready to be picked up and hauled all the way to The Hill.

  And that’s exactly what he was going to have to do. The bus sure as hell wasn’t going to handle this much weight. And it was one thing to storm across the city with an empty suit frame. He couldn’t get away with that in a fully enclosed battlesuit. Probably get arrested in seconds and have to deal with explaining things way too early. If they even believed him. A few too many villains had found powersuits useful for evening the odds, so sentiments were not what they used to be.

  He stuffed his rucksack into the torso and folded it up, the chest cavity staying spacious enough. Reaching around, he grab the whole thing by the hold at the scruff of its neck, straining just enough yet still tossing it over his shoulder. Thudding the air as too much weight found its seat. One last look back and his garage was shut tight for the last time. And a new journey just starting. One he was going to have to walk. Again.