---------------------------------------------------------------------- The Old Valley Road Hotel.
By Wombat. ------------------------- Any constructive comments are appreciated. I'm at 'bungala_wombat@yahoo.com.au'. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Dear Nifty Readers, If you enjoy this story or others on Nifty, please send a generous donation to Nifty.org at http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html to help support and maintain this free service full of wonderful stories so it may continue to remain available to everyone.
Thank you all, Wombat ----------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter 7 - 'A Rainy Day' Part 9. ------------------------------------
------------------------------------ Part 69: Night of the Tiger ------------------------------------
Scott accelerated quickly at high speed high up into the atmosphere and reached hypersonic speed. A little over a minute later they were over Sydney. Scott plummeted down in a vertical heart-stopping dive towards the city. Over the harbour he slowed to a subsonic speed and flew over the Sydney Harbour Bridge and the instantly recognisable concrete sails of the Sydney Opera House. Many yachts were sailing on the harbour. Ferries and other boats were criss-crossing the water.
Paul: << Wow! That didn't take long! >>
They flew over the city. Paul saw the unmistakable buildings of the city CBD like the Sydney Tower, the MLC building, Grosvenor Place, Chifley Tower, Aurora Place and Gateway Plaza.
They flew out over Sydney's eastern suburbs. They lingered briefly over the crowded Bondi Beach. The shallow waters were thick with swimmers and people just standing in the water enjoying the hot January afternoon.
Paul had seen enough. Scott detected that and at high speed they soared high up above the earth's surface until they could see the whole planet below them.
Paul was overcome by the beauty of his home planet in its blue-green cloud-bedecked glory hanging in the star-filled blackness of space. The brown Australian continent with green edgings lay below them visible in its entirety. The massive, dazzling white spiral of a big cyclone could be seen in the Indian Ocean between the brown land of Western Australia and the green emerald islands of the Indonesian Archipelago.
Paul saw the green cloud-speckled, vaguely bird-shaped island of New Guinea. That was where Lachlan's Aunt Sybil was planning her expedition. Paul had looked up Mount Wilhelm in his parents' atlas.
They hung in space while Paul gazed in wonder at his surroundings. They could see the pock-marked Moon behind them. Scott pointed out the visible planets, Venus, Mars, Jupiter and Saturn. Mercury was hidden in the blazing glory of the Sun. Paul was amazed by the sheer numbers of stars scattered as unblinking points of light on the black background of deep space. There were many more stars visible than he had ever seen on Earth. They were surrounded by a myriad stars.
Another swirl of a cyclone or typhoon was visible in the Western Pacific between the islands of Japan and The Philippines.
The eastern half of the Pacific Ocean was in darkness. Night had fallen there as it had in both the American Continents.
Scott headed north-east over the Pacific and shortly they were over the North American continent. The cities of the United States were ablaze with light. They were like diamonds scattered extravagantly on black velvet.
Scott made for the concentration of lights in the North-East of the United States. Very soon they were hovering far above New York.
Scott: << New York's a big city. Where would you like to go? >>
Paul: << Manhattan, I guess. >>
<< Yeah. It's the place everyone thinks of when they think of New York. >>
Scott plunged down head-first towards the planet in another heart- stopping dive. He slowed rapidly over the lower Hudson River and Paul was pressed against Scott's back by the deceleration. Scott swooped over the water. They passed the Statue of Liberty lit up with many spotlights and flew slowly over Battery Park. They drifted just above the skyscrapers. Even though it was close to midnight, the city was a blaze of light and humming with activity. They passed over the brightly lit Ground Zero where the remains of the twin towers of the World Trade Center were being dug up and carted away.
The destruction of the twin towers four months previously was big news even in Ringtail Springs. Scott remembered well the people in the town discussing the terrorist attack in horrified tones. All the TV channels were broadcasting continuous live coverage.
Paul was in Canberra at the time and the capital was in virtual lock- down for the day.
The mood of the two men was sombre as they passed slowly over the site.
Paul wanted to see the Empire State Building. Scott found the building amongst the confusing maze of lights and buildings with a little telepathic help from some locals. They flew around the famous building taking in the sight.
Then Paul's attention was attracted by the bright lights of Times Square. They flew over the square.
Paul wanted to get down onto the ground. Scott pointed out that because they were naked, they had to get some clothes on. It was a cold January night in New York, freezing cold by Australian standards. It was nice and warm inside the air bubble that enclosed them both and the air still had the aroma of eucalyptus. In any case, they could not walk the streets naked. Someone was bound to call the cops.
Scott informed Paul about the place in Somewhere Else where Paul could have his pick of clothes. Scott suggested that Paul wear something nice and warm as it was very cold on the streets down below. It did not matter with Scott as he was a superman but he would wear something for decency's sake.
Scott jumped Somewhere Else or the Place In Between to a place filled with white light. They separated and floated as if they were in space. Scott instructed Paul to think of what he wanted to wear and the clothes would appear before him.
Paul thought a while and clothed himself in a close-fitting white T- shirt that showed off the massive muscles of his arms and torso, long underpants, low-slung blue jeans and high-heeled brown leather cowboy boots with long dark blue socks. He topped it off with an expensive- looking brown leather bomber jacket with a hood. He also chose a pair of nice brown leather gloves.
Scott grinned. << Do you need a cowboy hat as well? >>
"Get fucked," replied Paul.
Scott clad himself in tight low-slung faded blue jeans with a shiny black leather belt, a sleeveless blue tight-fitting hoodie of elastic material unzipped at the front and shiny calf-length black leather snake-skin cowboy boots. The hoodie unzipped pulled back far enough to reveal most of Scott's spectacularly muscular front. The jeans were low enough to reveal a bit of his pubic hair and the trail of black curly hair up to his navel.
Paul looked at him. He raised an eyebrow.
"Won't you get cold like that?" he asked.
Scott: << No. I'm a superman, don't forget. I'm impervious to the cold. >>
Paul remembered he too was a telepath.
<< I wish I could show off my muscles like that and not feel the cold like you. >>
<< Can be done. I can warm you up so you'll feel nice and toasty for a while and not feel the cold too. >>
<< Yeah. I'll go with that. >>
Paul took off his bomber jacket and T-shirt leaving his torso bare. The jacket and shirt promptly disappeared.
He visualised a tight-fitting sleeveless hoodie like the one Scott wore except it was bright red. It appeared in front of him and he put it on. He left the front unzipped to display his spectacular large pectorals and abdominal muscles.
Scott looked at him admiringly. Paul perceived his thoughts. Scott thought Paul was hot and sexy.
<< Ready, hot stuff? >>
Scott put his hand between the back of Paul's neck and shoulders. Suddenly a whole lot of heat energy flowed into Paul's body warming him up nicely. Paul glowed with warmth.
Paul jumped onto Scott's back. Scott held him piggy-back. They jumped into normal space and floated above Times Square. Scott searched for a suitable place for them to jump into through hyperspace so they could reach the ground without attracting too much attention.
He decided to jump into a vacant lift (elevator). He found one at the top of a tall residential apartment block of about forty floors nearby and they jumped into it.
As they were travelling down, more people got in. They studiously avoided looking at the two large young men. They were discomfited by the young men's massively impressive musculature on display. The lift travelled down in silence.
They reached the ground floor. Scott and Paul got outside with relief and found themselves on Broadway.
As Scott had warned Paul, it was very cold outside the building but Paul did not feel it. They walked briskly along the busy sidewalk to Times Square.
Times Square was still full of people despite the hour and the cold. Across the square Paul saw a clock showing that it was just after midnight. Below it was a temperature gauge showing 27 degrees (Fahrenheit, -3 degrees C).
Paul: << Bit different from Australia. It's like Canberra overnight in midwinter. >>
Scott: << Sure is. We get nights like this in Ringtail too in wintertime occasionally. Remember? >>
Paul felt comforted by Scott's massive presence. They both kept the front of their hoodies unzipped and their hoods thrown back. People stared at their massively muscular bodies particularly at Scott's spectacular ten-pack of abdominal muscles, not to mention his massive pectorals and huge, thickly muscled arms.
The two men saw a grotesquely obese man as he waddled along munching into a hamburger. His fat wobbled as he moved. He was wearing a hoodie that was a bit tight on him.
Paul: << You reckon he's the typical fat American? >>
Scott: << Not really. He's a lot bigger than usual. >>
<< He's huge. I reckon he'd weigh more than you. >>
<< I reckon you'd be right too. He's the end result of ad agencies' ideal of the perfect consumer. He eats at McDonald's, KFC, Burger King, Hooters and all that, junk food all the way. It's no wonder he's as fat as he is. He shops at Kmart, Wal-Mart, Target, Lowe's et cetera where he buys all the brands he sees on TV. And he's bought an 84-inch flat screen TV for his apartment that he watches cable TV and DVDs on while stuffing his face and that's most of the time he's not working. >>
Paul: << What a pathetic existence! Do you reckon you could do anything with him? >>
<< It would be a challenge, but yes, I could. I'd have to motivate him somehow, like show him a much better way of living. And train him up to be a superman. It's certainly possible; anything is possible. You by comparison, Paul, are a gift, a dream run. And you're tremendously sexy into the bargain. >>
<< Thanks, mate. >> <+ An image of Scott trying to have anal intercourse with the fat man; that was accompanied by a feeling of revulsion. +>
Scott: << I guess I'd have to be ready to take on anything. I'd do it if I have to. I'd have to be prepared to take on the fat, the ugly, the difficult as well as the sexy, the muscular, the beautiful. >>
They circumnavigated the square taking in all the lights and other sights. Paul was busy rubbernecking and taking it all in while people stared at Scott. Scott linked his mind up with Paul's and was taking it in through Paul's eyes as well as his own. He shared his perceptions with Paul.
They walked down one of the streets leading off Times Square and looked at all the shops.
At the entrance to an alleyway Paul decided to go down it to the other end. They walked down into it.
By now Paul was deeply in love with Scott whom he saw as his own private god. He put his arm around Scott's waist under Scott's hoodie. He delighted in the warmth of the living flesh that he held. He could feel the warmth flowing from Scott's body into his own chasing the cold away. He kept unzipped the front of his hoodie. It showed off the thick powerful musculature of his chest and abdomen.
Scott put his arm around Paul's shoulders affectionately. They walked down the alley. They felt that the moment was blessed.
A cry rang out behind them. "Lookit them faggots. Get 'em."
Paul and Scott whirled around. They saw a gang of youths charging towards them. Scott had his senses including his telepathic sense on full alert. He quickly assessed the situation and tried to pass his perceptions to Paul.
Paul exploded into a furious hate-filled rage. He was enraged by these interlopers destroying the blessed moment. He was infuriated by these damnable would-be gay-bashers wanting to beat them both up.
Three of the bigger youths charged at him. One of the older youths, a big muscular young man, aimed a high kick at Paul's head. Paul knocked the foot aside. He drew his right fist back and punched the youth's head with all the power of his mighty body. The youth's skull exploded in a shower of blood and brains. His eyes popped out of their sockets and hung by the optic nerves. His nose was squashed into his face which was smashed beyond all recognition.
The other youth charged at Paul only to get hit in the face with another of Paul's fearsome punches. The lower half of the youth's face shattered, the nose was mashed into the cheeks, teeth flew in all directions and the lower jaw smashed like glass.
The third youth saw what was happening and ran away in horror.
Meanwhile Scott was shoving the youths over onto their backs with a big hand on their chest or over their face. The more aggressive youths he slapped down with open-handed slaps across their cheeks. He was cuffing those youths like an angry grizzly bear cuffing very naughty cubs. He weighed about as much as a grizzly bear. The force of his slaps threw the youths to the ground where they lay with their heads in their hands whimpering with the stinging pain.
The youths who had been pushed or knocked over by Scott scrambled to their feet and ran away eager to escape the wrath of the angry bear of a man.
When the others saw the rapid demolition of their numbers, they hung back fearfully except for one big muscular youth who foolishly decided to tackle Paul. Paul saw him and went for him like an angry tiger.
The only black man in the gang, a big strongly-built young man, tried to pull out a semi-automatic hand gun from the pocket of his hoodie. It became stuck. The man wasted a second or two struggling to extract it. He succeeded and he aimed it at Paul. Scott saw him and charged him. The man saw Scott coming at him and fired off three quick shots at him. The bullets ricocheted off Scott's invulnerable body and screamed off into the distance. One smashed a window in a nearby building.
Paul was distracted by the shots. He had the youth by the throat and was about to smash his fist into the youth's face. His face was twisted into an angry snarl. He turned around to see what happening.
The youth he had seized started screaming. He was white with fear. He realised he was on his own.
"Please don't hit me," he screamed. "Please don't."
Scott grabbed the black man's wrist with a vice-like grip. With a small force field he stopped all nerve conduction in the arm from the shoulder down. The arm went limp and lost all feeling.
"I'll have that," said Scott as he quickly removed the gun from the man's nerveless hand and stuffed it into the pocket of his tight jeans.
The black man stared at Scott open-mouthed with amazement as he held his arm. It tingled painfully as feeling and movement surged back into it.
Scott saw Paul still had the big youth by the throat. Again Paul's mouth was drawn back into a fearful snarl and he had his fist drawn back ready to smash the youth's face.
Scott heard the youth screaming with terror. He saw his eyes wide open with the whites showing. He saw a patch of wetness spreading over the front of the youth's jeans.
He raced over, grabbed Paul by the scruff of his neck and yanked him backwards.
"Stop that now," he shouted at Paul, who dropped the youth he was holding and stared at Scott.
The youth fell back onto his butt but scrambled to his feet in a hurry and scuttled off to join his buddies.
Scott held Paul by the scruff of his neck and pointed to the two youths that Paul had punched so fiercely. They were lying motionless on the ground with smashed faces.
"Look at the damage you've done," he almost shouted. "You don't know your own strength. You are 365 pounds of raging fury. You're all solid hard muscle. You are extremely strong. Your fists are lethal weapons now. They're like jack-hammers with all that muscle driving them."
He sighed gustily.
Three of the younger gang members had seen their two smashed mates and were leaning against a wall spewing their guts out.
Scott continued, fixing Paul with a hard look. "I'd better do something about these fellows now. The one with the mashed brains is bloody near dead. And you've got his brains dripping from your fists."
Paul looked at Scott. His eyes became big with regret. He suddenly realised that he had lost his telepathic sense in his fury. He could perceive nothing with his mind. He was back to utterly normal except for his massively powerful body. His eyes filled with tears.
Scott ignored him. He knelt down at the head of the first youth with the smashed skull and the eyeballs hanging loose on the mashed remains of the youth's face. The youth looked like someone had smashed him in the face with a 100-pound sledgehammer. His head looked like a squashed watermelon. Scott put his hands next to the youth's head. He perceived that the youth's life force was guttering like a candle just about to go out. The young man was truly a very few minutes from death.
Scott focussed. He perceived Thanatos, the Angel of Death hovering over the dying youth.
Scott: << He can be saved, can't he? >>
Thanatos: << If you say so. You are the one to decide that. >>
Scott: << What do you think? >>
Thanatos: << Don't ask me. I don't make these decisions. I just take those who are dead before the Lord Jesus Christ for judgement. This man is very close to death. You decide whether to save this man or not. You're the human. I'll accept whatever you do. >>
Scott felt the awful weight of responsibility on his shoulders. He himself was immortal and he knew it. But he felt strongly that the youth deserved another chance.
He perceived the youth's ghost hovering nearby.
<< I don't want to die >> wailed the youth's ghost soundlessly.
Scott made his decision to save him from death.
Jesus appeared next to Thanatos.
Jesus: << Scott, you may do it only with My permission and that of My Father. Normally resurrections are not permitted. >>
Scott: << But he's not dead yet. May I please? >>
Jesus laughed. << You put a good case. True, the young man is not quite dead. >>
The youth's ghost fell to its knees.
<< Please Lord Jesus, let me be saved. I don't want to die. >> it pleaded.
Jesus looked at Scott. << Yes, Scott, you may save him. I'll make an exception in this case. A demonstration of your powers may encourage these young men to come and serve My Father and Me and become supermen like you. However, you will need help. >>
He looked at the youth's ghost.
<< It would be good, Leroy, if you could serve My Father the Lord God and Me. I call all humans to come and serve Us. That includes you, Leroy, and all your friends."
A horde of angels appeared. They clustered around the dying youth's body. Scott found himself directing them as they repaired and healed the damage to the head.
Paul and the gang members gathered around watching. Scott started glowing with a bright bluish white light. It looked like he was glowing from within. Not only that but he was emitting a bright purplish blue aura shot with moving pink and gold stripes as he focused energy into the healing process. The light was bright enough to illuminate the surrounding youths.
"What's happening?" asked the black man. "What are those little spots of light buzzing around Leroy? Why is that giant muscle man with the freaky huge arms glowing like he's radioactive?"
"Yeah, I can see them spots of light too. What are they?" asked another gang member.
"I can't see nuttin' but the big guy is glowing all right. He's like the Incredible Hulk," said a third. "What's going on?"
"I can't see nuttin' too," announced a fourth.
"I see dose itty-bitty spots of light too," said a fifth.
He turned to Paul and asked him, "You know what dey is? What's 'appening?"
Paul could see Scott kneeling with his big hands holding the dying youth's smashed head. He could see the aura surrounding Scott. But he could not see the moving spots of light.
"Dunno," replied Paul curtly.
He realised that Scott was exerting his divine superhuman powers and decided to say nothing. He knew that he had angered Scott by losing his temper so comprehensively and smashing up the two youths in his furious rage. And he had lost his telepathic sense. He looked down at his hands and saw they were covered in blood and had bits of brain and bone stuck to them. He felt so stupid and unworthy and dirty. His eyes filled with tears again.
The gang member talking to him looked at him with amazement. He stared at the big dark blue hickey on Paul's neck.
Paul turned away and pulled his hood over his head. He moved to the back of the group. Some of the gang members turned around, looked at him and whispered among themselves. Paul realised that they were afraid of him, of his enormous strength and his skull-smashing punches.
Scott concentrated on the angels healing the youth. Paul could look after himself for the moment.
The gang members stood back at a respectful distance from Scott and the two unconscious youths. They watched. They could not see Jesus and the angelic beings. They could only see Scott brightly glowing and kneeling with his hands around the head of the dying youth. Some of those present could see the healing angels as little moving points of light like dust motes.
Thanatos disappeared. There was no longer any need for his presence. The other youth smashed up by Paul was in no immediate danger of dying but he needed urgent surgery to reconstruct his face.
Jesus: << You are doing a good job, Scott. I'll leave you to it. >>
With that he faded from Scott's view. As Scott was the only superhuman present, only he could perceive Jesus, Thanatos, the healing angels in their full form and the youth's ghost.
The ghost remained. The angels continued their work.
The dying youth's head reformed from a shape like a squashed watermelon back to its original shape. His eyeballs moved back into their sockets. His eyelids closed over them. His face returned to its previous appearance as the bone structure regained its earlier form.
The gang members gasped when they saw all that happening. It was miraculous.
Some of the angels performed the tricky task of rebuilding the youth's brain. His heart beat strongly again. The angels restarted the youth's brain like a computer that had undergone major repairs. They gave the cue to Scott.
Scott invited the youth's ghost to come over and merge back into his body that awaited him.
The ghost did so under guidance. It took control of the youth's brain as it stirred into action. His eyelids flickered open.
Scott removed his hands from around the youth's head and leant back. His aura faded.
The youth stirred. He moved. He started to sit up.
The gang members cheered loudly.
"Leroy, he's come back," yelled one.
"Great!" yelled another. "He's all fixed up now. It's a goddam miracle!"
Scott rose smoothly off his knees to his feet. The youth Leroy got to his feet rather unsteadily. Scott helped him up.
Leroy hugged Scott. His eyes filled with tears.
"Thank you. Thank you so much, sir," he said. "You know, sir, I saw Jesus."
"Yes, I know," replied Scott.
"Yeah, you saw him too. Of course, sir. You talked to him too."
The black man came up. "I didn't hear anything," he said puzzled.
"Otis, I saw Jesus too. I talked to Him. He said this man could save me," Leroy said to the black man while he put his hand on Scott's shoulder.
Leroy addressed his buddies. "Guys, I saw Jesus. I tell you, I saw Jesus. And He called me by name. And He told me He wants us all to come and serve Him and His Father the Lord God. And I saw a whole lot of angels too. They put my head back together."
The gang members stared at him. They did not know what to make of it.
Leroy turned to Scott. "Sir, who was that with Jesus?" he asked. "That kinda spirit."
"That was Thanatos, the Angel of Death," replied Scott.
"Why did he go away? Did Jesus tell him to go?"
"No. He left because there was no longer any need for him to be here. He came because you were dying. When you were being saved, there was no point in him hanging around."
Leroy hugged Scott once more.
"Who are you? What are you?" Otis asked Scott. "And what about my rod? I promise I won't use it."
"Questions can wait, Otis," replied Scott. "I've got work to do."
In two strides Scott went to the other youth. He knelt down at the youth's head and put his hands either side of it. He started glowing again. His aura fired up once more as brightly as it did before. The healing angels went to work rebuilding the youth's face.
The gang members were fascinated by the process of the unconscious youth's face apparently rebuilding itself under the guidance of the huge muscle man glowing with some kind of energy. They gathered around to watch.
"Christ! He's a real mess. Who did that?" asked Leroy.
"The big blond guy," replied Billy, another of the gang members. "You should've seen the mess he made of you, buddy. He must be hell strong with those huge muscles of his. You looked like you got hit by a Mack truck. Your head was squashed flat."
"Where is the big blond guy?"
Billy shrugged.
"Dunno," he replied. "He like disappeared when that big guy with the mega muscles," indicating Scott, "got mad at him for messing up you and Cal big time. That big guy rescued Wes in the nick of time. The blond guy was about to smash him up too. I tell you, that big blond guy's so fucking dangerous. He's like a raging bull. I tell you, Wes was so scared he peed himself."
"Weren't some of you guys going for that big guy with Cal right now?" asked Leroy.
"Yeah, we did, but he slapped us down like we're little kids. Jesus Christ, it fucking hurt real bad. I never been slapped down like that since my dad slapped me down when I was a little kid."
Billy showed Leroy the red handprint on his cheek.
He continued. "I tell you. That big guy was laying about him like a big angry grizzly bear. He was slapping us down and pushing us over like we're just little kids."
"Jesus," said Otis, "I didn't know those two guys could put up such a fight. I thought they'd be just ordinary faggots with muscles just for show. Like they got freaky huge muscles and would be weak as kittens 'cos their muscles are just pumped up with oil or something."
Billy grinned ruefully. "And Christ, it fucking hurt when that guy hit me!"
"There's something weird about that super big guy with Cal right now," said Otis. "Like when I shot him, the bullets just bounced off him and one went through a window. And when he grabbed my wrist, my whole arm went numb and I couldn't move it or anything like it was paralysed and he just took my rod like taking candy from a baby. And look at him glowing like that. And he's so huge and freaky. I never seen arms like he's got, not even in muscle magazines."
Otis paused.
He went on. "I'm just thinking if the big guy looking after Cal can make other guys' muscles grow big too. I figure he could've made the blond guy's muscles grow real big but the blond guy's not used to how strong he is, like I guess that's why he made such a mess of Cal and you, Leroy. He doesn't know how strong he is."
"Yeah, I guess that's it," said Billy. "That's why the big guy with the curly black hair just smacked us around but didn't break anything 'cos he knows how strong he is but the blond guy smashed up Leroy and Cal 'cos he doesn't know how strong he is."
A light came on in Leroy's brain.
"Like the guy fixin' Cal can make a guy's muscles grow real big too," he said excitedly. "That's what he did to the blond guy. Wow! You reckon I could get him to do that to me? Geez, it'd be real fantastic to have muscles like that."
Billy grinned broadly.
"God, Leroy, you could be onto something."
Otis was thoughtful. The implications were enormous.
"Yeah, you could be too," he said. "You could ask him."
Scott was telepathically aware of all that was going on around him even though he was guiding and helping with the healing process of the youth Cal's head. Paul had gone to the back of the group and he could not see what Scott was doing. He was sullen and miserable. The cold was starting to get to him. He had lost his telepathic sense and he felt the loss keenly. He had come to enjoy being telepathic. He revelled in feeling Scott's love. Now he had no idea of what was going on but he knew that Scott was displeased with him for losing his temper. Scott would let him stew a little while longer.
It was not much longer before the angels finished their work and Cal's face was fully healed. They made some minor but necessary repairs to his unconscious brain and restarted it. Then they departed.
It appeared to Scott that they shrank in size until they vanished out of sight. However he knew that it was a trick of hyperspatial perspective. The angels were returning to Heaven.
Cal opened his eyes. He sat up slowly and looked around. He saw his buddies gathered around him. He looked around saw the huge muscle guy with the black curly hair kneeling behind him.
His buddies cheered.
"He's OK," cried one.
"What happened?" asked Cal.
"You got hit," replied Scott with a wry smile.
"How?"
"Think about it."
Cal thought about it. Suddenly the memory came back of the big blond guy grabbing him by the throat and snarling at him furiously. Cal remembered the guy's fist smashing into his face, the terrible pain and then nothing. It was the blond guy's left fist that hit him. Cal did not see it coming until the last instant.
"Where is he now, the guy that hit me?" he asked.
"He's around," replied Scott.
"Will I be OK with him?"
"I don't reckon you guys are going to pick another fight with us. He'll behave himself or else."
Cal started to clamber unsteadily to his feet. Scott rose up off his knees and helped him up.
Leroy came up and hugged Scott.
"Thank you, sir, for saving me and Cal," he said. "Thank you so much. I'm so grateful."
"No worries," replied Scott. "That's quite alright."
"Look, sir, I'm kinda thinking. Did you make that blond guy's muscles grow real big?"
"Yeah," said Scott slowly.
"Do you reckon, sir, you could make my muscles grow real big and strong like him?"
"I could, Leroy. I could indeed. But right now I'm busy with my current trainee, the blond guy. He's a handful, he's a real tiger with an explosive temper and he has a lot to learn. It's not just growing big muscles and that's it. There are a lot of things you got to learn."
"So there's more to it?"
"Yes, most definitely. Jesus wants all of us humans to come and serve Him and the Lord God in Heaven. That's what He told you. That's the deal. Muscles and strength come with it if that's what you want."
"Yeah, I do want the muscles and all that."
"Understand me, Leroy. You can't just grow big muscles and that's it. There's a lot more to it than that."
"Can I do it? Can you do it with me, sir? Please, sir? Can you teach me what to do sir?"
"Like I told you, I'm busy with my current trainee."
Scott appeared to be thinking hard for a few seconds. He reached out into the telepathic net for information. He wanted to know if there was a local community house with superhumans who could train up Leroy and his friends. The information came back. A business card appeared in Somewhere Else. Scott reached there and brought the card into the pocket of his hoodie. There he duplicated it into a number of copies. He pulled one of the cards out and handed it to Leroy.
"Go and check this place out," he said. "It's not far from here. There'll be people there who could help you out. They could train you up to become a superman like me."
Leroy's eyes glowed with delight as he scanned the card.
"Yes, sir, I'll go do it."
Billy came and got a card too. He was enthusiastic about becoming a superman.
Some of the others came up to Scott as well and Scott gave them a card.
Paul realised that something was happening and shouldered his way through the pack. The gang members parted before him as if he were a tiger. They treated him with great respect like he was a dangerous wild animal.
He came up before Scott and hung his head. He looked up at Scott with big tear-filled eyes.
"Scott, I've lost my telepathy," he said. "And I'm cold."
"Well, mate, I'll just have to fuck you again," replied Scott with a grin. He put his arms around Paul and pulled him into a big warming hug.
The gang members stared at Scott and Paul with astonishment.
Otis pushed in.
"What do you mean, you have to fuck him again?" he demanded to know. "And what is telepathy? Does that mean you can read minds?"
"Peace, Otis," said Scott with a smile. "Yes, I can read minds and I can do a whole lot more besides. When someone like me fucks a guy, the guy being fucked has a humungous great orgasm and his brain flips into an excited state. Then I can reach into his mind and switch on his telepathic sense. He becomes a telepath, a mind-reader if you like, but that is unstable. If he has a strong negative emotion like he flies into a rage like this man did, he loses his telepathic sense. When someone becomes a telepath, like when I fuck him, it puts him on the fast track to learn all the stuff that he has to know to do what I can."
"Who are you? What are you?" asked Otis.
"I was just an ordinary guy like you up until not that long ago, Otis. Since then I've learnt a lot of things. I've picked up a lot of knowledge and as well, I've pledged to serve the Lord God. In return He has granted me a whole lot of super powers and made me a superman. So you can say I am a superman now."
"Yeah, you look like Superman," chimed in Billy.
Otis looked at Billy with a raised eyebrow. Billy looked back coolly. He did not care. He had already made up his mind to become a superman.
Otis turned back to Scott.
"So I can become a superman too? Like you?"
"Yes, Otis, you can," replied Scott. "Any human can. We humans are hardwired for that, if you like."
"Um, yeah. About my rod, can I have it back? Please?"
Scott extracted the gun from the pocket of his tight jeans. He hefted it in his hand then examined it with his cryptoscopic sense.
"Nice gun," he commented. "Very nice indeed. Laser sight and all. 21 bullets in the magazine. A very effective killing machine and it's almost new, hardly used."
Scott paused as he downloaded the gun's history from the telepathic net. He looked at Otis with a raised eyebrow.
"And, Otis," he continued, "you paid twenty bucks for it."
"How come you know?" demanded Otis.
Scott looked at him with a wry smile.
Otis looked sheepish for an instant. Then he answered his own question.
"Yeah, course, you're a mind reader, a telepath."
"It came with a silencer attached. What did you do with it?"
"I took it off. It was too big to fit in my pocket."
Scott smiled. "Yeah. You know something else, Otis? These guns cost eleven hundred bucks new. This one's hardly been used. Ever wondered how you got it so cheap?"
Otis stared at Scott. He wondered what was coming.
Scott continued relentlessly. "Can you remember the person who sold it to you? Can you give a description of him or her?"
Otis shook his head.
"Not even a glimmer?" asked Scott. "Your life may depend on it."
Otis looked at Scott.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean what I just said. Try. What did the person look like?"
Otis thought hard.
"It was a guy, I think," he said hesitantly. "He had a hat on and he had on an overcoat, gray or brown, I don't remember. I can't remember much else."
"Not a good description, Otis. Not much for the police to go on."
"The police?! Whaddaya mean?"
The other gang members watched the unfolding drama avidly. Even Paul took an interest.
"There's a fairly good chance, Otis, that the police will catch you with this gun," said Scott. "Do you know what'll be one of the first things they'll do with it? They'll run a ballistics check on it. And pay-off time! Big pay-off time! Game, set and match."
Otis stared at Scott. Fear stirred within him.
"What?" he asked anxiously.
Scott continued. "This handgun belonged to a professional killer highly skilled at his job and also in covering his tracks. He's been in the game quite a few years. The man you bought it from, well I think it's a man, it's hard to tell, he, or maybe she, was some kind of go-between, I guess somewhere down the food chain. It doesn't matter if the police grab him or her. They won't get far.
Anyway, the previous owner has killed a lot of people not just with this gun but with lots of guns. When a gun gets hot, he gets rid of it through a chain of go-betweens. That means the gun can never be traced back to him.
Ever heard of the Midland murders in the dry country in the west of Texas? Nine people died then. It happened a bit over a year ago. The whole of Texas was in an uproar because the mayor and other important people in the city were assassinated. In fact the whole South was in an uproar. Every politician you could imagine put in his two cents worth for the media. There was public outrage.
The killer was very efficient. One bullet to the head and that was it. The killer did not waste bullets. Just one shot killed. And he picked up the spent cartridge cases and disposed of them in people's trash cans. No fingerprints, no traces, nothing to be found.
The families and friends of the murder victims are screaming for justice and they have political connections. The political pressure is seriously on to solve these murders and quickly and it's coming from the state governor on down. It's been over a year since these murders were committed. People are getting impatient and the police there are desperate for a resolution. In fact the sheriff and his crew would do just about anything to catch and convict the perpetrator.
OK, then, the police here in New York pick up some young black guy carrying the gun that killed the people in Midland. The bullets fired from the guy's gun match the bullets taken from the corpses and the police can prove it. Breakthrough? Yes! A big yes!
And guess what? That guy happens to be you. After a brief extradition hearing here you get shipped off to Texas to face trial for the Midland murders. But you didn't do it. I know you didn't do it. But can you prove that to the court when you've been caught red- handed with the murder weapon? It's going to be hard. Very hard. Can you afford a top-notch defence attorney? You're certainly going to need one and they don't come cheap. Anything but. And the presumption of your innocence is going to go out the window."
Otis shook his head.
"No," he said. "No way."
"OK. So you get a court-appointed lawyer who may not be competent to defend you. That's tough. For starters, can you remember what you were doing on the night of Friday the 13th of October, 2000 when the murders took place?"
Otis looked stunned.
"No," he said.
"Think hard, Otis. Your life may depend upon it."
"Hanging out with the guys I guess."
"Can you prove that?" asked Scott.
He looked around at the gang members surrounding him.
"Can any of you remember what Otis was doing back on the night of Friday the 13th of October, 2000?" he asked them.
Some of the gang shook their heads. The rest looked at Scott blankly.
Scott looked back at Otis.
"Tough call, that," he said.
He continued. "So you're a young black guy taking his chances with the Texas justice system such as it is. You've got a court-appointed defence attorney who wouldn't know his arsehole from his earhole and he doesn't care that much about defending you. You got caught by the New York police with the murder weapon in your possession. You don't have an alibi that'll stand up. As far as the jury is concerned, that's enough, that's it. Done deal. They say you did it. The judge agrees. He's pushed the jury towards a guilty verdict. He has to, because if you get acquitted, he won't get re-elected at the next election. And neither will the sheriff.
What motive could you possibly have for killing the six men and three women in Midland, Texas? Why would you travel there from New York to kill them? How did you get the money to travel there? Dunno. No-one cares. You're obviously not a professional killer but the killings were clearly carried out by a professional. Doesn't matter. You're a young black guy with very little money. And you stand accused of killing nine white people. In people's eyes you're the bad guy. You've been demonised by the media. You're extremely wicked and you are supposed to have committed terrible crimes. What chance does a black guy like you have against the Texas justice system? The system is loaded against you from the start. Yes, you didn't do it but you'll do nicely as the scapegoat.
The way those people think, black people have got to stay in their place. They're not allowed to kill white people but it's OK for white people to kill black people according to the bullshit divine pseudo- Christian order they believe in. It is 'divine' bullshit and if you pledge yourself to serve God, He will confirm that Himself.
You get convicted and the judge sentences you to death. Everybody's happy. Everyone rejoices because they have closure. They get the closure they so desperately want. You took your chance with the justice system in that part of Texas and you lost and it is going to cost you your life.
You get carted off to Death Row where you spend the remaining few years of your life. Then the day comes for your execution by lethal injection. You get put down like a stray dog nobody wants.
And the sobbing members of the victims' families tell the TV cameras that their dear departed loved ones will find peace at last. Those who call themselves victims, the loved ones and families of the murder victims are all really happy despite the tearful performances they put on for the TV cameras. They have got their sacrificial victim, their human sacrifice who's an innocent man slaughtered like an animal by the State of Texas on their behalf. That's you, Otis,
And all the pseudo-Christians thank whatever bullshit tin god they worship so piously in their churches for the 'justice' that put an innocent man to death.
What a load of bullshit! What absolute hypocrisy! What a media circus it would be! And you're dead.
Trouble is, you didn't do it. Even worse, you sacrifice your life so the professional killer who killed the nine people in Midland can continue his evil ways and kill a whole lot more people."
Scott looked at Otis as he tossed the gun up and down in his hand.
"Still want this gun?" he asked. "If you become a superman like me, you certainly won't need it."
"Er... er..."
"OK, Otis, I'll make up your mind for you. I'm going to make this burning hot gun disappear and you will be safe."
Scott tossed the gun up into air and it vanished with a loud pop.
The youths looked up and gaped. So did Paul. He felt keenly the loss of his telepathic sense. He would love to know what Scott did and how he did it.
"Where's it gone, sir?" asked Leroy.
"Nowhere," replied Scott. "It's gone. It doesn't exist anymore."
"Wow, freaky!" exclaimed Billy.
Scott then pulled out the remaining cards he had in the pocket of his hoodie and handed them around the youths as they all clustered around him. They were very interested as they scanned the cards now in their hands.
"Just wondering, sir," said Leroy. "Do you know who the professional killer is, the one who committed the Midland murders?"
"I don't myself," replied Scott. "I don't need to know and I don't particularly want to know. But there are people who know who he is and they're out to get him, legally if possible. Coming up with proof that'll stand up in court is quite another matter. So far they don't have any legal proof. The killer is very, very cunning. They're just going to have to wait until he plans another killing then spring the trap on him. They won't be able to pin the Midland murders on him though and the same with the other killings. They know he did it but they can't prove it in court. One of the problems of being a telepath."
Scott turned to Paul.
"OK, mate, the time has come for us to go," he said. "But first we'd better get all that blood and stuff on your hands cleaned up."
He took Paul's hands in his own and looked at them.
"Look at all this crap," he commented. "Blood and bits of Leroy's brain and bits of his skull. Just as well the angels are so good at rebuilding brains and stuff. In fact Leroy's brain is better that it was before. It's the new improved version."
Everyone turned and looked at Leroy who stood there with his hands thrust into his pockets.
"Are you saying Leroy's a genius now?" asked Billy.
"Dunno," replied Scott with a grin. "It's too early to tell. But he could be, especially if he becomes a superman like me."
Otis looked at Leroy with a troubled expression. He was wondering if Leroy would be a threat to his leadership.
Scott read his thoughts.
"Mind you, you all could become supermen and that would be great," he said. "And you could become members of the Roadknights Motor Cycle Club into the bargain."
The youths stared at Scott.
"Like for real?" asked Cal.
"Yep."
"So supermen can join the Roadknights?"
"Yep. Ever wondered why the Roadknights are so muscly and tough? They're all supermen. And you could be too."
"Wow!"
The thought appealed to the youths. They really liked the idea of becoming big, really tough and muscular bikers who were feared by the outlaw motorcycle gang members and who had the freedom to ride anywhere they liked on their big powerful motorbikes. It was such an utterly masculine idea.
Otis realised that the implication of what Scott was saying was that Otis's position as leader of the gang was likely to become irrelevant if all the members became supermen. And Otis was sure that Leroy, Billy, Cal and many of the others were set in their aim to be trained up as supermen.
Scott turned to Paul.
"OK, let's clean you up," he said.
He let go of Paul's hands and held them in place with a force field. He created two small balls of flickering lightning around the hands.
Paul tried to move them but he could not. His big muscles strained.
"God, that tickles," he remarked wriggling his body. "I'm tingling all over."
After about half a minute the lightning balls vanished with a pop.
Scott picked up Paul's hands and looked at them.
"Nice and clean," he commented with a smile. "They would stand the sternest inspection, even from your mother."
"That was agony," said Paul. "I felt like I was being tickled all over."
"You looked like you were enjoying it," remarked Billy.
"Fuck off!" said Paul.
Scott looked at Billy and laughed. He licked his index finger and held it up.
"Good one, Billy," he said with a grin.
He peeled off his hoodie and handed it to Cal who accepted it and put it on. It was a loose fit even though Cal was big and strongly built.
"Wow, thanks," said Cal.
Scott stood in the middle of the gang with his magnificently muscular naked torso on full display.
The youths gaped at him, eyes wide with admiration.
"Wow, that's freaky," said Billy. "I never seen such huge muscles like that before."
"Fuck! That guy's real freaky. He's fucking huge," commented a youth.
"Yeah, I never seen muscles like that, not even in the muscle magazines," said Otis. "You're even bigger than the Incredible Hulk. Where're you gonna go?"
"I'm going to take this man off somewhere else," said Scott.
Scott pinged Paul's brain with a telepathic cue. Paul took off his red hoodie and gave it to Leroy who was effusive in his thanks. Leroy put the jacket on and wore it proudly even though it was a little loose on him.
Paul apologised to Leroy for hitting him so hard. They shook hands. He also apologised to Cal and shook hands with him.
The youths stared admiringly at Paul's magnificent torso and huge arms thick with hard bulging muscle.
"God, he's nearly as big as the superman," commented one.
Scott addressed the assembled youths.
"Fellas, we're about to head off. You've all seen my super powers. Please do not say anything about them to anyone else for two reasons. First, no-one is going to believe you. Hard-boiled reporters and policemen and so on are just going to say you're a bunch of kids in a street gang and you made it all up or you're all hallucinating 'cos you're all on drugs or I've hypnotised you all or some other bullshit explanation. Second, it's open to you all to get trained up and become supermen yourselves. I've given all of you the contact details. If you go blabbing to people, hard questions will be asked about whether you can be trusted to receive superpowers."
Scott turned to Paul.
"OK, cobber, let's go."
"Are you guys Australian?" asked Otis.
"Yeah," replied Scott with a broad grin.
"I figured as much from your accent."
Scott bent his knees and leant forward. He looked at Paul who took the cue. Paul jumped on Scott's back and Scott held him piggy-back.
"Hopefully I'll see all you guys again in better circumstances," said Scott. "Bye for now."
With Paul on his back Scott flew up high into the air. The youths craned their necks upward and stared up after them until they were lost from sight above the surrounding buildings.
-------------------------------------- Continued in Part 70. --------------------------------------