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The Young Legends Chapter 1
"Come on, Marco! If you're late again you're in big trouble!"
Sighing, Marco tried once again to force the stray lock of blonde hair to stay in place instead of falling down into his eyes. Once again, he was unsuccessful. "I'm coming, Mom!" He yelled back, letting a little bit too much of his frustration leak into his voice.
"Watch your tone, young man!" She warned from downstairs.
Marco grimaced, looking at himself in the mirror. The stubborn bit of hair would not respond to anything he did. The rest of his hair was flopped neatly to one side, and he had spent nearly ten minutes making sure it was perfect. That together with the rest of his morning routine had taken over an hour. Marco put time and effort into his appearance. He was in high school now; as a freshman he knew that everything had to be perfect if he was going to climb the social ladder.
His outfits were always on point too. He had insisted on several intense sessions of back-to-school shopping a few weeks prior. Today was a pair of pristine white shoes, some well-fitted but not too tight jeans, and a two-tone shirt that evoked the image of a perfect sunset. It was still only the first month of school, but so far things seemed to be going well. He was trying to reinvent himself from Marco the awkward and slightly nerdy middle schooler into Marco the social teenage butterfly. So far, he was having some success, but these new habits were time consuming.
Grunting in dissatisfaction, Marco abandoned his attempt to bring his hair in line. He grabbed his bag and jogged down the stairs, meeting his mom at the front door.
"Sorry." He said sheepishly. "I couldn't fix my hair."
She rolled her eyes. "What are you talking about? It looks fine. Get your butt in the car or I'm leaving without you."
Marco gave his mom a smirk. "You're gonna be the crazy lady hanging around a school without a kid?"
As he passed, she swatted his arm gently. "Watch it, tough guy. You're not too big for me to hit yet."
Smiling, Marco led the way out to the car. Checking his phone, he saw that, without some strange circumstances, they would have plenty of time to get to the school before the first bell.
"Where's Colleen been?" Marco's mom asked as they turned onto Main Street. "I've barely seen her this summer."
Marco shrugged. "I guess she's been busy." He replied quietly. "We talk in school."
"Well, tell her I miss her." She insisted. "It's always nice having her around the house."
Promising that he would, Marco fell silent. He didn't like lying to his mom, but he thought if he told her the truth, she would be upset with him.
They pulled up to the school with two minutes to spare. Marco jumped out of the car as soon as it stopped.
"Have a good day. Love you." His mom called after him. He turned and waved, giving her a bright smile and shouldering his backpack.
Students were filtering into the front door as he arrived but most of them were already inside. Marco looked around for familiar faces but didn't see anyone he knew.
"Marco!" The voice startled him, coming from behind. He turned to see Colleen running up to him with a broad grin. "Hey! There you are." She greeted breathlessly. "Where've you been?"
Shrugging awkwardly, Marco looked at the ground. "I dunno, just busy with stuff."
She gave him a look. "There's barely been any homework or projects for like a week. Are you too cool to talk to me now?"
"No." Marco replied quickly. "It's not that. Just... stress I guess."
Colleen's expression suggested that she didn't entirely buy it, but she seemed to accept his reasoning for the time being. "Did you see the Freedom Fighter news this morning?" She asked excitedly.
Inwardly, Marco sighed as they walked into school together. This was what he was hoping to avoid. All through elementary and middle school, Marco had been known for being somewhat obsessed with the superheroes. Everything they did, every feat every press conference or public appearance, he had always been the first to know, tracking them online almost religiously. That was how he and Colleen had become friends in the first place. She too wanted to know everything about the Council of Heroes, and they had spent hours together over the past few years reading up on each member, their abilities, and what they had done for the country, and the world.
In the latter half of his eighth-grade year however, Marco realized that this sort of obsession wasn't likely to help his social standing. Although secretly he would still watch or read an update about the Council of Heroes' activities, he made a point not to discuss it so much in school. Colleen, on the other hand, still wanted to bring it up every time she saw him.
"No." He answered, trying not to sound rude, but also not seem overly interested.
"Dude!" She exclaimed. "He made a huge bust of some gang in Chicago. Had a conference about it this morning. It was all over the internet, how did you miss it?" She held out her phone with an article pulled up. In big red letters the page read "Freedom Fighter Makes Criminals Sweat After Fiery Speech."
The Freedom Fighter was America's, and maybe the world's favorite hero. Strong, handsome, and virtuous, he always knew where he was needed. It also helped that he could fly across the country in a matter of minutes and could punch through concrete like it was paper. He was one of few heroes that did not bother to hide his identity. He was boasted to be the first `man-made' superhero, but that was not entirely true. An ex-marine, James Trencher had always been supernaturally strong, but after some intense experimental genetic modification, his abilities had been pushed to their limits, making him even stronger, faster, and even allowing him to fly.
Personally, Marco had always preferred the Blue Hand, another member of the Council of Heroes, as his favorite. Freedom Fighter was, in Marco's opinion, too overhyped. Blue Hand was subtle and smart, with more ethereal powers compared to FF's physical ones.
"I'll check it out later." Marco assured as Colleen followed him to his locker.
"Alright." She sounded disappointed. "Are you ok? I feel like you've been ignoring me for weeks. If you don't want to talk that's fine, just..."
Marco winced as he knew there was no clear way out of this conversation without making things awkward. "It isn't that I don't wanna talk." He insisted. "I'm just... I guess I'm not as into the superheroes anymore... y'know, not like I used to be anyway."
"Oh..." Colleen took on a surprised expression. "I thought you always wanted to meet them, especially Blue Hand. What happened?"
Looking around, Marco made sure no one was overhearing them. "I dunno it's just... not really my thing that much anymore." He put his backpack away and closed his locker. "I'm sorry."
"Well..." Colleen's mouth twisted awkwardly. "That's ok. We can talk about other stuff, if you want. What lunch do you have today?"
"Fourth." Marco answered, turning in the direction of his first class.
"Oh, I've got first." Colleen shrugged it off. "Well, you can come by for dinner sometime if you want. I know my parents wouldn't mind."
Marco nodded giving her a polite smile. "Sure, that sounds fun. Text me, I gotta get to English."
Assuring him that she would, Colleen turned and hurried the other direction. Marco felt guilt coiling around inside him. He did like Colleen, and he knew he wasn't being fair. If he just started hanging out with a few more people though, people that weren't obsessed with superheroes, then he would be able to include Colleen more again without looking like he was still into kid stuff. It was a good plan, or at least that was what he told himself. Good enough to ease his mind anyway as he got to class.
English always passed so slowly. Marco's teacher, Mrs. Hanigan, was old and serious. She definitely did not seem like a good fit for a freshman English class full of rowdy young teens. Fortunately, Marco was starting to become friends with a couple of other kids with assigned seats toward the back of the room. Tasha, a pretty brunette who was constantly on her phone sat to his left. She had complimented his style the first day of class and they had chatted off and on ever since. Then on his right was Bryce. Bryce was on the swim team and had an in with a lot of the popular kids. Marco had gotten to know Bryce a little bit the year before, and that familiarity had started to grow over the past month. It helped that Bryce had a crush on Tasha and occasionally had to use Marco as a go-between when talking loud enough for her to hear was not possible.
The three of them chatted and whispered together and it made the class bearable. On the rare occasion that Mrs. Hanigan noticed them talking together, it meant that they'd quiet down for a minute or two before starting right back up again. This was a habit that Marco had started to take up in most of his classes. Despite being a little awkward sometimes, he was relatively outgoing, and he had discovered that most people just liked having someone to talk to. Asking questions that were interesting but not too personal as well as giving occasional genuine and unique compliments was gathering him a small but widening group of people that were happy to see him walk into class.
Finally, it was lunch time. Having the fourth lunch period was the worst. It was the last lunch period of the day, meaning that they got the worst of the food and had to wait more than half the day to get a real break. Marco got his slice of pizza that he suspected had been prepared two or more hours ago then left under a heat lamp and found a seat with a group of his new acquaintances.
Tasha was at the table with one of her girlfriends, as well as two other freshmen that Marco had started getting to know. The rest of the table though was full of sophomores and juniors. Marco felt proud to be allowed to sit with them. One of the juniors at the table particularly drew his attention.
Corey was on the football team and was tall, buff, and had an impressive even tan from a summer spent in the sun. Even though Marco was not particularly flamboyant or effeminate, it would not have come as a massive shock to most people to find out that his preference leaned more toward boys. His eye for style and the effort he put into his grooming and appearance, along with his easygoing friendliness probably led to some people wondering about his orientation.
Marco did not label himself though. It had only been a little over a year since he had come to terms with the fact that he was more interested in the same sex. He still liked girls, but he found that the scales felt significantly weighted in one direction. And at the moment that direction happened to be the direction Corey was sitting in.
"Hey Mikey. What's up?" Corey greeted as Marco pulled his chair in.
"It's Marco." He corrected quietly, blushing, and looking down at his tray.
"Right, my bad. So, Tasha was saying you're big into the superheroes and stuff, right?" Corey asked.
Cringing, Marco bit his lip. Was that really all he was going to be known for? "Uh... I guess a little. Or I was." He admitted, not wanting to contradict the older boy.
"What do you think about all that Freedom Fighter shit?" Corey questioned as he finished a mouthful of potato chips.
Marco frowned. He expected that kind of a conversation starter from Colleen but not from someone like Corey. Maybe there really was something going on. "I guess I missed it. What happened?"
"What?" Corey laughed. "Everyone's been talking about it all day, where have you been?"
"Didn't you have a Freedom Fighter backpack in middle school?" Tasha asked teasingly. "How did we hear before you did?"
"It was in sixth grade." Marco corrected. "And it was... never mind... What happened?" He had been about to correct her and say that it was a Blue Hand backpack, the Freedom Fighter just happened to be on it in the background with some of the other Council of Heroes.
Corey pulled out his phone. "FF busted a gang in the city last night and apparently, he killed a couple of the leaders while he was there." He turned his phone around to show Marco a different headline than the one Colleen had shown him. This one read "Blood on Super-Powered Hands."
Marco's eyes widened. "He killed someone? Superheroes aren't supposed to kill anyone."
"A couple people apparently." One of the other kids chimed in. "The internet is blowing up about it."
"I say who cares?" Corey countered. "These were really bad dudes, and they've killed tons of people before. Besides, Freedom Fighter probably killed people while he was a soldier. Why is it so bad now?"
Marco said nothing. Corey had a point he supposed. People that spent their lives hurting other people should expect karma to catch up with them eventually. But still... he had grown up memorizing the Hero's Code, one of the most important tenets was that a hero never used their powers to kill. He was going to have to look more into this. Maybe he owed Colleen an apology.
"Hey! Rookie! I'm not gonna tell you again." One of the detectives confronted him. "Your job is to keep the public back while we get this all cleared up. Got it?"
Aidan sighed and nodded, standing from his crouched position. "Got it. But shit... Trencher did this? That guy's head is in ten pieces."
The detective frowned and pointed back to the line of yellow tape. "They killed their hostages, kid. And did all kinds of fucked up shit to all those girls they were trafficking. They deserved worse than they got. Either way though, it's not our business and it's definitely not yours. Your business is..."
"Staying on the line." Aidan finished. "I got it."
"See to it." The detective warned.
Ducking under the yellow tape, Aiden came to stand next to his partner, Stevens, an older officer that had helped with Aiden's training only a few months prior. He gave the middle-aged man a resigned look, turning away from the grizzly scene.
"Coleman's a prick." Stevens muttered. "You get used to it."
Aidan smiled but shook his head. "I dunno, Stevens. It feels wrong to me. When supers start killing people, where does it stop?"
The older man gave a dry chuckle. "You're acting like it's the first time. There's been plenty of accidents before. Some more accidental than others. They're human like the rest of us."
Shrugging, Aidan rested his hands on his hips, feeling the familiar touch of his sidearm. "But they're supposed to be held to a higher standard. Just like us."
Stevens laughed again. "Be careful talking like that. Some of the force ain't about that `higher standard' shit."
Scowling, Aidan held back the comment that sprang to mind. Eventually he released the tension in his shoulders. He knew Stevens was teasing him but seeing something as gruesome as that did not leave him in the mood for jokes.
"Look," Stevens continued, sensing his discontent. "You're too young to remember, wouldn't have even been born, but all that Hero's Code stuff wasn't always a thing. Trencher was the one that set it up. It used to be chaos. Things are better now. You got good instincts, kid, just don't start jumping at shadows. You won't last long."
Aidan forced a smile before moving to stand purposely in the way of someone holding up a cellphone trying to sneak a picture behind the police line. "I guess we'll just have all the fun standing out here then." He remarked to his partner, who responded with a smirk and a single nod.
Marco spent most of his evening diving into old habits. He watched the press interview with the Freedom Fighter probably ten times. By the time school was out, the Council of Heroes' Twitter account had released a public statement endorsing their leader's actions. Then later that afternoon several prominent members of the Council including Freedom Fighter and Blue Hand spoke to reporters again.
In his initial interview, Trencher was clearly still emotional from the fight in the dark hours of that morning. Marco watched the hero's chiseled face contort with conflicting feelings.
"I do not regret my actions." Freedom Fighter spoke to the cameras with only a slight waver in his booming voice. "I only regret that they were necessary. These men showed rampant disregard for lives of innocents. They've killed sons, daughters, brothers, and sisters to people in this city. And they would not be taken in without sacrificing more lives." The handsome man took a deep breath, looking away from the camera for a moment. "I made the only choice that I could, and it is not one I will rest easy with. I chose to break the code that I helped to create almost twenty-five years ago."
Trencher paused to let his words sink in. "I stand by the Hero's Code." He continued, his voice stronger now. "Now more than ever. But as with all rules, in the pursuit of justice and the greater good we must sometimes make these difficult choices that seem to go against rigid interpretation. So in that, I am sorry. I am sorry to the families of those that I could not save. And I am sorry that it ever came to this. I do not expect anyone to condone my actions, but I know, in my heart, that they were necessary to prevent further suffering. Thank you. God bless you, and God bless America."
The reporters immediately erupted into questions, but Marco shut off the video and flipped to the next one which was the collective response of the Council of Heroes to the day's events. He un-paused it where he had left off.
"... certainly regrettable." The camera was focused on Blue Hand, wearing his signature deep blue cowl with the face-mask underneath, leaving only his mouth and chin visible. He spoke in his usual calm and measured tone. "But I have known James Trencher for many years now. I know him to be, above all, a good man. He would not have undertaken this course unless all other paths were barred to him."
"Hand is right." AcroCat spoke up. She, unlike the other two, lounged casually in a chair off to the side, her skin-tight suit leaving little to the imagination. "FF has done more for this city, the country, and the world than any person alive. Right now, he needs the support of not just the Council, but all other heroes out there, super or not. He might look like a tough guy, but you all know he's a softy at heart."
Marco smiled to himself. It was true, he had seen the videos of the Freedom Fighter showing up to children's birthday parties, visiting nursing homes, working in soup kitchens, usually wearing normal everyday clothing instead of his iconic white suit with the blue cape so as not to draw attention. Even so, he was hard to miss in a crowd.
Even though Marco didn't like the idea of superheroes killing people, he understood that there had to be exceptions to every rule. That included the Code of Heroes. Feeling better about the whole thing, Marco slept soundly that night. As always however, his alarm came far too early the next morning.
Running through his usual routine once again, Marco tried to hurry himself a little bit to avoid his mom's wrath. As he got out of the shower though he had to stop and look at himself in the mirror in his bedroom. Unless it was his imagination, he thought he could see some muscle definition starting to develop in his arms and his stomach.
Returning to school after the summer it had felt like many of the other boys had suddenly shot up to tower over him. Marco was not an athlete, nor did he particularly want to be the tallest in the class, but it was nice to see, or maybe imagine that he was developing some physical signs of maturity.
As he grabbed the knob of his dresser drawer to pick out a pair of underwear, Marco found that it was stuck. He tried jiggling it a little but with no luck. After a second or two he gave it a frustrated yank. To his surprise, the whole front of the drawer came off in his hand with a crack.
"Shit!" He whispered, hoping his mom hadn't heard the drawer break. Quickly putting on a pair of underwear he peaked out the door to make sure she wasn't close by. When he was certain the coast was clear, he shut the door again and examined the broken face of the drawer.
The glue must have been old and starting to get brittle. He tried to find a way to fix it back to the rest of the dresser, but it continued to fall off. Looking at the time, he shook his head and tossed the broken piece under his bead then finished getting dressed. Hopefully his mom wouldn't come into his room. And if she did, maybe she wouldn't notice.
School that day was more energetic and unfocused than the day before, as Fridays tended to be. By now, everyone had heard the news about the Freedom Fighter and the Council of Heroes. Some talked about it and gave their opinions while others didn't seem to care at all.
Marco thought he should try to talk to Colleen but did not see her that morning. He had gym class that day which he usually was not a fan of, but as he stretched his limbs, he noticed that he felt particularly good for some reason. It was a strange feeling, as if his body was looking forward to the exercise. A grin touched his face as the coach announced they would be running laps for a warmup. Any other day, the idea of running would have brought him no joy, but inexplicably he was excited for it.
Tasha and a couple of other girls that he hung around with were in his gym class and normally he would have lagged back with them and just walked the laps while they chatted. Today though, he decided that he might as well take advantage of this energetic feeling and actually try, something he had rarely done before in gym class.
He started out easy, taking up a gentle jog, and quickly discovered that it felt like no effort at all. After the first of the four laps around the gym hanging round about the middle of the pack, Marco decided to really push himself. Taking a deep breath, he began to pick up the speed and started to pass other joggers and runners with ease. Marco grinned broadly as he felt the air filling his lungs and the blood pumping through his muscles.
Soon and without consciously realizing it, Marco found himself near the front of the group with all the athletic kids, the soccer players and track runners. One of the boys at the front, a runner named Damian, gave Marco a surprised look, but Marco was just as confused. He gave Damian a friendly smile before pushing himself to go even faster, pulling ahead and away from the rest of the students. The athletes saw this and kicked their speed up as well, trying to keep up, but Marco outpaced them.
The exertion felt good, and Marco couldn't stop smiling like a child as his hair fell into his face and he broke a mild sweat. He finished the four laps in less than four minutes, which was a personal best for him by some margin. Sliding to a halt, Marco pulled in deep but even breaths. Shockingly, he did not even feel particularly winded.
"Wow. Marco." Coach Feehan nodded his approval. "Where has that energy been?"
Giving the gym teacher a smile, Marco shrugged. "I dunno." He admitted. "I just... feel good today."
"Well good." The coach approved. "If you can run like that, why aren't you trying out for any sports?"
Again, Marco shrugged. "I guess it's not really my thing." He replied. "And I didn't really know I could run." At this Marco gave a short laugh at how strange that sounded.
"Well, if you change your mind I can think of a couple teams that would be happy to have you."
"What the hell, Marco?" Damian asked good-naturedly as he and the other athletes finally finished their laps. "Decided to turn on the nitrous today?"
Marco laughed and shrugged again, enjoying the praise and attention but also a little bit embarrassed by his lack of a logical explanation. "Just a good day I guess."
"Must be something." One of the other boys agreed. "Red Bull for breakfast maybe?" He joked.
Shanking his head and smiling, Marco chose not to answer. Suddenly discovering that he was the fastest was a huge ego boost. Even though he was sure it was just a fluke he let himself enjoy feeling like the best for a little while. Tasha and some of the girls gave him surprised and confused looks as they finally finished walking their laps as well.
"Alright, circle up." Coach Feehan. instructed. "We're headed out to the field to play some football, so I'm going to split you into teams. Two-hands on is a tackle. If I see anyone getting rough, you'll be sitting out and get a zero for the day. Got it?"
The gym teacher assigned teams and Marco was a bit disappointed to find himself on a team with few people that he was closely acquainted with. Damian was on his team though, and the taller boy seemed confident in their chances.
"I'll pass to you." He told Marco. "Then you just do what you did in the laps." Damian chuckled. "No one will be able to catch you."
Marco nodded, trying to act like he was sure of himself. In reality he had planned on making it look like he was playing and being helpful while putting in as little effort as possible. Maybe pushing himself like that had been a bad idea. Now people expected him to do things.
Things started out simply. Damien attempted to pass to Marco as he had planned. The first time the ball got knocked out of the air before it reached its target, and the second time Marco wasn't able to get his hands around it and it bounced uselessly to the ground.
When the other team had the ball, they scored a touchdown easily. Damian had taken on the role of unofficial team captain and started telling people how to position themselves. It all felt to Marco that Damian and several others were taking the game too seriously, but he usually felt that way in gym class.
Finally, their plan worked though. Marco ended up behind most of the other team's players and Damian was able to land the ball right in his hands. Taking off at a sprint, Marco easily broke away from his opponents. Before he could reached the `end zone', marked by a pair of orange cones, he saw that he had missed one person who had been hanging back for just such an eventuality. It was too late though; Marco saw the other boy step into his path and knew he wouldn't be able to stop himself in time. He tried to slow down to make an attempt to outmaneuver the defender but ended up tearing up chunks of grass while still steaming ahead too fast.
There was nothing he could do. Marco closed his eyes as the collision became inevitable. The last thing he saw was the boy's surprised look as he realized that Marco wasn't stopping. Marco felt the impact, but it barely slowed him. What ended his run was tripping over his own feet two steps later and landing hard on the grass.
Marco heard the coach's whistle and looked up. The boy who had been trying to defend lay on his back several feet away, groaning.
"Hey!" Coach Feehan yelled, running over. "Marco, what the hell was that? What did I say about getting too rough?" He demanded angrily, jogging over to help the other boy. "You alright?" The coach knelt down. "Did you hit your head?"
The defender groaned again and sat up. Marco breathed a sigh of relief, feeling guilty and embarrassed. "I'm sorry!" He said sincerely, standing up and walking over to join the coach and the fallen player. "I tried to stop. I didn't mean to."
The coach gave the other boy a quick check to make sure he wasn't seriously injured before looking up sternly at Marco. "Be more careful." He warned. "I don't want to see anything like that again. Understood?"
Marco nodded vigorously, looking down at the ground in shame. This was what he got for showing off and getting competitive. "Yes. I'm sorry." He repeated.
"It's alright." The coach eventually sighed. "Maybe hang back and play defense for a bit, ok?"
Nodding his agreement, Marco returned to his team, informing Damian of his new role.
"Damn. It was a good run though." Damian told him. "You would have had the touch down."
For the next ten minutes or so, Marco did basically nothing. He waited back to make sure that the other team couldn't get past them to score. Still feeling bad about the incident, Marco found it difficult to pay attention. He really had tried to stop. It hadn't felt like he was going that fast, but maybe he was. Would the collision have been worse if he had not tried to slow down?
"Marco!" Damian's voice broke him from his trance. Instantly he saw that a boy from the other team, Marco was pretty sure his name was Joe, had the ball and was running his direction trying to get past the defenders. Marco was the closest.
Quickly, Marco sprang into action, not wanting to let his team down. He took a few running strides to keep Joe from getting around him. Extending his hands, he gave the other boy a gentle push with both hands to signify a tackle.
Joe cried out as he was flung from his feet and thrown almost two yards in the other direction, landing hard on the ground and skidding another foot or two. The ball bounced out of his hands and rolled away. Marco's eyes widened in shock and fear as he looked down at his hands which were still outstretched. He had barely touched the other boy.
Once again, the coach's whistle blared loudly. Marco stood dumbly, staring between his hands and Joe who was rolling on the ground in pain.
"You're done!" Coach Feehan yelled furiously. "Go sit on the side! You better hope he's ok."
"But..." Marco felt like he might cry. His confusion was overwhelming. The coach didn't have time for him though, he rushed over to check on Joe.
Hanging his head, Marco trudged over to the side of the field to sit on the ground. He didn't look up. He didn't want anyone to see him on the verge of tears. What just happened? Blinking, he cautiously looked to make sure that Joe was alright. The other boy was being helped to his feet by two of his classmates and was led off the field holding his arm and walking with a slight limp. Marco watched them leading Joe inside, presumably to the nurse's office before he looked away again, face burning with guilt and regret. How? He had given Joe the gentlest of shoves, just enough to make sure the other boy felt it and knew he was `down'.
The coach started the game again before heading in Marco's direction. Marco pulled his knees in closer to his chest and didn't look up.
"What's wrong, Marco?" Coach Feehan demanded. "What's gotten into you today?"
"I..." Marco couldn't find the words to explain. "I don't know. I didn't mean to hurt him."
The coach sighed. "Marco, you hit him like a truck. What did you think was going to happen? You'll be lucky if his wrist isn't fractured."
"I didn't!" Marco insisted. "I just put my hands on him like we're supposed to."
"Well obviously not." Coach Feehan replied irritably. "I'm going to have to make a report to the principal, and you'll probably have to meet with her about it."
Marco's heart sank. He'd never been in trouble before. He was a good kid. The worst he'd ever had was a detention for goofing off too much in class. His mom was going to kill him.
Sitting at his desk in his tiny studio apartment while eating a frozen dinner for one, Aidan browsed through various news articles and clips related to his most recent Google search. Something his partner, Stevens, had said the day before stuck with him.
"There's been plenty of accidents before." The older cop had said. "Some more accidental than others."
His search for "superhero deaths" had not been very helpful. All of it was either concerning the recent Freedom Fighter incident or lists of supers that had died in the line of duty. When he refined it to "accidental superhero death" he got a few more hits. Several articles had accounts of incidents with alleged super involvement, but most were concerning lesser heroes or the occasional super criminal that had gone on a rampage before being stopped.
Aidan started digging deeper. He browsed several message boards though he was not even sure what he was looking for. It was not hard to find anti-super sentiment online if you visited the right sites, but he tried to keep his searches unbiased.
Nonetheless, Aidan eventually found himself on a rather dubious site titled "Watching the Watchers". The website was primarily a forum, but a user had to be approved by the site's administrators before they were able to post anything. Aidan scrolled through some of the public topics, shaking his head. Most of them seemed to be just hate-filled rants, accusing supers of being disgusting mutants or evil aliens, nothing of substance.
One thread however caught Aidan's attention. The title read, "Anubis murdered my husband. Police covered it up." Anubis was a member of the Council of Heroes. Not as popular as the Freedom Fighter or some of the others, but he was still considered a very powerful and influential super. What exactly Anubis's abilities were though was something of a mystery, which the hero himself seemed to purposefully maintain.
Clicking the link to read more, Aidan was surprised at how lengthy the post was. It was dated from almost two months ago and the poster went into detail about how she and her husband had encountered the illusive Anubis.
"We finished our dinner," Aidan skimmed the highlights. "and decided to go for a walk before going home ... Anubis was in the park. He seemed like he was drunk or maybe on something. There were other people around getting pictures." At this point, the user put up several pictures that, sure enough, showed Anubis in his dog-shaped mask with several people around him. Of all the well-known heroes, Anubis rarely posed for photos or gave autographs, tending to keep to himself.
"He tried to talk to me," The text continued, "but he could barely put a sentence together. There's video of it somewhere but I couldn't find it ... We kept walking around the other side of the park. Almost an hour later Anubis just showed up from nowhere. We were the only ones around this time. Anubis said something about wanting to take me with him but it was hard to understand. My husband got between us and Anubis grabbed his neck. I don't know what he did to him, but it was like he sucked the life right out of him. I screamed and ran, I'm so ashamed I wish I had tried to do something, but I was so scared. Anubis started to follow, but there were other people nearby and he disappeared into the park. The police barely investigated. They said it must have been a mugger wearing a similar mask. But a mugger can't do what he did. They wouldn't even release his body after."
From there, the post continued on to describe the ineptitude of the police's efforts. The last line though caught Aidan's eye again. "Edit: The video I mentioned is in the comments. Thank you to superZero83."
Scrolling down, Aidan saw that the post had accrued hundreds of comments. Some offering condolences, others giving advice. The most relevant comment however contained a link to an unlisted YouTube video titled "Anubis Tripping In The Park??"
Clicking the link, Aidan watched the short clip. The man in the mask was unmistakably the Council of Heroes member, and he was almost certainly not in his right mind. Aidan had seen enough inebriated people in his short time on the force to recognize that this man was seriously impaired. Just before the twenty-four second video concluded, a young couple walked past the camera, barely in frame and out of focus. Anubis looked right at them and called something out that sounded like a slurred pickup line of some sort.
Biting the inside of his lip, Aidan let out a breath that he had apparently been holding. It was possible this was all made up; some internet troll that had created this story in their mind after seeing the video clip. But something about it felt too real. It left a splinter in his mind, and he needed to know more. Feeling foolish, Aidan clicked the `sign up' button and quickly put in some information, attaching the account to an email address from his childhood that he rarely used anymore. He had only just finished when his phone started buzzing on his desk, startling him and making him jump.
Aidan sighed, scolding himself for getting too invested in the fringe website. Minimizing the tab, he picked up his phone and saw that it was his dad calling.
"Hey Dad. What's up?" He tried to sound casual as if he had not just been in the middle of something embarrassing.
"Hey Aidan." His dad's rough voice came from the other side. "How've you been?"
It had been, Aidan realized, quite some time since he had talked to his father. He always meant to call him, but it always seemed to slip his mind. "I'm fine. How are you doing?" He asked.
"Not bad." His dad replied. "I heard about all that business with the Freedom Fighter yesterday. Wanted to check in. That was in your area wasn't it?"
"Yeah." Aidan confirmed. "It was. Not pretty, but it's part of the job."
"Oh, I know." The gentle disapproval was obvious in his dad's voice. He had never tried to stand in Aidan's way of joining the police force, but he had also never been thrilled with his son's decision. "I just hope you're being careful."
Aidan chuckled. "Don't worry, Dad. I'm always careful."
"I know, I know." Came the rueful response. "It's my job to worry though." He was silent for a moment. "I've been thinking about going to visit your mother this weekend. Your sister said she might come up, if you're interested."
"I'd like to." Aidan sighed. "It's been too long. But I'm working this weekend. I can try to see if I can get out of it."
"No, no." His father insisted. "You do what you need to do. We'll go another time. She will still be there." His voice took on a sadder tone.
Guilt welled up in Aidan as he thought about his father living alone. His dad was only in his late forties, far too young to be a widower. And Aidan knew that his dad had not had much luck in the past five years finding anyone. Pity was the last thing that his father wanted, but sometimes Aidan wished he could do more.
"How about next weekend?" Aidan offered. "I should be off then."
"No rush." Aidan's dad assured. "You're busier than I am these days."
"I'll keep you posted." Aidan agreed. "Have you been going out like Christy said?"
His dad gave a big sigh and Aidan knew the answer before he spoke. "Your sister worries too much. I'm fine. I had dinner with Tom and Cindy next door last week."
Laughing, Aidan clicked his tongue. "Dad, dinner with the neighbors every other month isn't `going out'."
"Well, whatever." His father's tone turned defensive. "It's better than nothing."
"Come up to the city sometime." Aidan encouraged. "We'll go see a show or something."
His dad scoffed. "You don't want me hanging around. I'm not the only one that should meet someone. And having your old man with you isn't going to help your chances."
Aidan rolled his eyes even though no one could see. "I do just fine, thanks. I just don't want you hanging around the house by yourself all the time. It's not good for you."
"I know damn well what is and isn't good for me." His father acted offended. "You worry about yourself, kid. I'm just fine."
"Alright, Dad." Aidan conceded with a chuckle. "Look, I'm gonna try to make it down there next weekend. See if Christy wants to come too. She cooks way better than you do."
Aidan's dad mumbled something sarcastic in a low growl before replying. "I'll talk to her. It'd be nice to see the both of you. You be careful out there." He repeated. "You hear me?"
"I heard you, Dad." Aidan promised with a laugh. "I heard you the first time. And the last time we talked too."
"Well make sure you remember it." His dad grumbled. "It's good talking to you. You let me know if you're coming down. Love you, bud."
"I will. Love you too Dad. Take care." Aidan replied sincerely. When he hung up the phone, Aidan sighed. He felt bad about how rarely he called his dad. It had been a little over five years since his mom passed. Aidan had moved out almost four years ago shortly after his eighteenth birthday. That meant that his father had been completely on his own for too long.
Aidan made a promise to himself to make more time as soon as he earned some more flexibility in his schedule. Putting his phone down, he returned to his computer. As he reopened his browser, he saw to his surprise that his request to join the forum "Watching the Watchers" had been accepted. After some time away talking to his dad, Aidan felt a little silly for pursuing this whole thing. Just some random person on the internet just looking for attention no doubt. But still.
He found the thread he had been reading earlier. The name of the user that posted the thread was a seemingly random assortment of letters and numbers, obviously a disposable account. Aidan wondered if the thread was even monitored anymore. Reading through the comments though, he saw that the user regularly replied to comments as recently as yesterday.
"Hello." He typed out. "I am sorry for your loss and would like to know more about this incident to try to investigate further. Please feel free to DM me or reply here. I may be able to help." Aidan added the last sentence as something like bait, and after he clicked the submit button he felt bad about it. Even if this wasn't some crazy person, what could he possibly do? Nonetheless, he shut down his computer and started getting ready for bed. He was working early tomorrow.
Marco sat on the floor of the bathroom with his back to the wall thinking. Or maybe trying not to think. His next class had started almost ten minutes ago, and he was missing it. That would probably get him in even more trouble than he was already in, but he didn't care at that moment. He hadn't been called to the principal or anything yet, but he knew it was only a matter of time. What was going on?
Something definitely didn't feel right. And yet, something felt very right. Even though emotionally, Marco was on the verge of a breakdown, physically somehow, he still felt amazing. Better than he ever remembered.
After gym class had ended, Marco had practically run back into the school, not wanting to talk to anyone. From there, he had locked himself in one of the single occupancy bathrooms and sat with his mind in turmoil. He hadn't wanted to hurt anyone. How could anyone have been hurt by such little force or effort? There was an answer that would spin to the front of his mind once in a while, but he consistently rejected it outright as impossible.
There was no explanation though. What else could it be? Maybe he needed to test it somehow. A thought occurred to him. There was one locker in the boys' locker room that had a door that was bent so far out of shape that it was unusable. No one would even notice probably. And it was already broken.
Standing up, Marco took a deep breath. This was stupid. There was no way. Still though, he snuck out of the bathroom and back towards the gym. By now the next batch of kids would be involved in their gym class and shouldn't be in the locker room anymore.
Luckily, Marco found that he was right. The room was empty, and he could hear the sounds of people doing their warmup out in the gymnasium as his class had done. The broken locker hung open as it always did. Its twisted door badly damaged by some powerful impact years before Marco's time. Even though he knew there was little chance of him being overheard, Marco tried to make as little noise as possible.
Very gently, Marco took hold of the bent door with one hand. Then with his other hand grasped the top corner. Once more telling himself that he was being stupid and nothing was going to happen, Marco sighed and began to pull on the top corner. Gently at first, but with increasing strength, Marco tried to bend the piece of thick metal backward. It wasn't working. He knew it wasn't, why had he even bothered?
The locker door suddenly bent in half as though he were folding a piece of paper. The give was so sudden that when Marco recoiled in shock, the entire door ripped right off its hinges like tearing cardboard. Unlike cardboard however, the metal made a horrible cracking sound as it broke away.
"Oh shit!" Marco exclaimed, looking down at the mangled locker door. Fear was his first response. Fear that someone might have overheard the noise. Fear that he would get in even more trouble than he was already in. He bent the piece he had started with back into place, or as close as he could manage, not even fully registering the fact that the metal folded like putty in his hands, then balanced the locker door back on its destroyed hinges. It was perched such that almost anyone touching it would knock it right down again, but hopefully that wouldn't happen until he was long gone.
Checking over his shoulder, Marco made his exit, slipping out of the locker room unnoticed and walking quickly down the hall until he was sure that he was in the clear.
"Holy shit..." He whispered to himself, looking down at his hands. A conflicting tide of emotions drew him one way, then the other. "Holy shit." He repeated louder. While sitting in the bathroom, his brain hadn't allowed him to even consider that this was the reason for all the strange happenings today, but now... Marco still scarcely believe it. Did he have... superpowers?
Immediately, he took out his phone and pulled up Colleen's contact, noting with some guilt that it had been almost two weeks since they had texted at all. Marco typed up a message that he hoped should would respond to. She was the only other person he knew that might understand and know what to do next.
"Sorry I've been a jerk. Pls call me after school. Got something BIG to tell u."
Should he share it with other people? Should he tell his mom? Marco didn't even know where he was walking at this point, his thoughts and excitement were keeping him too preoccupied. If people at school knew, he could be the most popular person here.
Then he frowned, remembering something he'd read online and heard often repeated from other students. The rumor was that if kids showed an aptitude for superpowers, then they were separated from the rest of the school. Taken to special classes, maybe even a special school entirely. No one really knew. Marco had never seen it happen, but it was a part of the teenage folklore that he did not want to test.
No. He had to keep it secret. At least for now until he figured out more. Most heroes hid their identity. Was he going to be a hero now? When he was younger that had been his dream. Even though he had spent the past year or so trying to reinvent himself, his childhood wonder and excitement was getting the better of him. But he wasn't going to tell anyone, not yet. Well... He thought about it... Colleen should know. And she would know how important it was to keep secret too.
Marco forced himself to take a deep breath. He had been aimlessly wandering the halls of the school while his imagination ran wild. If he was going to keep it a secret, he had to act like everything was normal. What did that even mean though? It was hard to calm himself down. After several more deliberate inhales and exhales, Marco decided that he needed to get back to his classes. If he skipped out then it would look suspicious, especially after what happened during gym class.
Making his way to his math classroom, Marco slipped inside. Everyone turned to look at him including the teacher, Mr. Owens. Owens was a middle-aged man with a reputation for being stern but fair. He looked first at Marco, then up to the clock, then back to Marco. Giving a scowl, he simply motioned to the desks with a jerk of his head, then resumed teaching.
Marco heaved a sigh of relief that he was not about the be chewed out in front of the class then scurried over to his seat, trying to draw as little attention as possible.
"Where've you been?" Marco's friend Leah whispered to him as he sat down.
Shaking his head, Marco tried to keep the smile from his face. "I... wasn't feeling good."
Leah frowned. "You ok?"
Mr. Owens cleared his throat loudly from the front of the room where he had been teaching and glared at Leah. She sheepishly looked back down at her notes. Marco gave her a sympathetic smile and a brief nod to indicate that he was fine.
The rest of the day passed uneventfully, but Marco could hardly sit still. Sitting in class proved to be a complete waste of his time as his mind was otherwise engaged. He continued to think up possible ways for him to test exactly how far these newfound abilities went. Obviously, he had gotten stronger and faster somehow, seemingly overnight. But exactly how much stronger and faster? And were there other things yet to be discovered? Could he turn invisible or influence people's decisions like the Blue Hand?
Thankfully, Marco's incident in gym class didn't end with him in the principal's office that day. He knew that he might have to deal with those consequences later, but for now, he had bigger things to think about. The moment school was out he brushed off the usual conversation and Friday hype. There was work to be done. It might have been his imagination, but his walk home felt faster than usual despite him trying to deliberately pace himself. The entire time he felt an itch to run, something he wasn't familiar with, but he knew from his years of infatuation with supers that, as much as he wanted to, showing off his newfound abilities would probably only land him in trouble.
Once home however, all bets were off. Marco knew his mom wouldn't be home for over an hour. After pacing the living room for a solid ten minutes to try to sort his thoughts, Marco decided to start with something small. Taking in a breath, he reached down with one hand and grabbed the end of the couch. Very gently he lifted, and the side of the couch came off the ground easily. It was not an incredibly heavy piece of furniture, but it was definitely easier than it should have been.
Marco let out the breath he had sucked in and gave a nervous giggle. He could feel the adrenaline pumping through him, down his spine through his limbs. It felt good. Curiously, he began to turn his arm upward, trying to lift the far end of the couch off the ground without the aid of any leverage. With some minimal effort, the two feet remaining on the floor began to lift up. Breathing another laugh, Marco's excitement was cut short when a loud crack broke the tension. The crossbeam of the sofa that he was holding onto started to split from the strain that it was under, supporting the entire weight of the whole piece.
Swearing quietly, Marco instantly set the couch back down. Even though he knew he was alone, he took a look around to be certain he had not been caught wrecking the furniture. Dropping to one knee, he examined the base of the couch and found that the damage was virtually unnoticeable from the outside. If someone tried to lift the sofa from that particular spot then they might discover the breakage, but otherwise, he suspected that his mom wouldn't notice.
He would have to be more careful. First the gym incident and now he was breaking furniture. Marco reflected on his day then amended his thought. Actually, first was the drawer of his dresser upstairs, only at the time he had just assumed it was a coincidence. His first priority would be to figure out how to test his new abilities while keeping them under control.
Marco spent the next hour carefully lifting various objects around the house. Unfortunately, there weren't many things that were extremely heavy but also not in danger of breaking if he attempted to pick them up. Most of the furniture he could have lifted on his own before all this anyway with some effort. Now, it took him one hand and almost no strain at all, but it still was not a real test of his limits. He had an idea, but it would have to wait until his mom got home.
When she returned, Marco tried to act as casual as possible. Even her he did not want to know about these changes just yet. Fortunately, his mom was too preoccupied at the moment to worry about the slight abnormality in Marco's demeanor. Once she was significantly distracted with something else, Marco snuck out the back to the driveway.
His mom had pulled the car into the back, and their small yard was fenced in, providing some amount of privacy. Marco looked around cautiously to make sure that no one would notice him, then he got down to the ground and slid himself partially under the front of his mom's car. The asphalt scratched against his shoulders and tailbone as he pushed himself along, but he didn't pay attention.
Taking several deep nervous breaths, Marco found a solid position for his hands and then, glancing once more toward the house to make sure he was still alone, he began to push upward. At first, he pushed very gently, but the vehicle did not budge. Clenching his teeth, he added more pressure, then more. Marco's brow furrowed as his determination grew. Nearing his limit, he felt the car shift slightly. His arms started to tremble, but he pressed onward. He saw the front tires leave the ground by a centimeter, then an inch, then two. Ignoring the strain he felt, Marco continued to push upward, eventually holding the front end of the vehicle up over a foot in the air.
A grin touched Marco's face as he felt sweat forming. Slowly, he began to let the car back down again to avoid risking dropping it. As soon as the tires touch the ground once more, Marco slid himself out from under it and jumped to his feet, shaking his arms out and laughing. This was the test he had needed. The car seemed to be about his current limit, maybe not as strong as the Freedom Fighter or some other supers out there, but definitely way stronger than normal kids his age. Not to mention, he thought, most supers claimed that their powers took a while to fully develop. If this was where he was starting out, maybe he'd become even stronger as time went by.
It was hard to hide his excitement and nervousness when he returned to the house, so Marco opted to spend most of his time in his room. He didn't have plans for his Friday night, so he told his mom he wanted to get a head start on his homework for the weekend. This wasn't completely a lie because he did end up doing some of his schoolwork, but most of his time was spent researching new supers and the discovery of superpowers.
Almost every independent source told him the same thing; that he should keep these powers a secret if he could. There were rumors of super kids being taken and experimented on, or isolated away from their friends and family. None of these had any proof of course, but there were enough stories out there to make Marco worry. Sure, it was his dream come true, but he had not ever really considered that it might be dangerous. Even so, it did not stop Marco from wondering just how far these new abilities went, and what he might be able to do with them.
That night, after lying awake for almost an hour, Marco finally was able to sleep. While he did, he dreamed that he was running. He ran faster than he ever had before, even faster than in gym class earlier that day. It felt amazing. The world whipped past him as he pushed himself harder and harder. Then, suddenly, without realizing it, Marco ran directly over the edge of a cliff.
His heart jumped as he began to plummet. The ground was impossibly far below but was racing up at him fast. This was the end for him, Marco tried to scream but no sound came out. Looking hopelessly back up at the cliff he had fallen from, he suddenly and almost instinctively flexed his back muscles hard. Something between his shoulder blades twitched that he had never felt before.
Marco was awoken by the sound of breaking glass and tumbling books. He opened his eyes to find that his room was blindingly lit, though outside it was still pitch black. Turning on his bed in confusion, Marco saw that the end table next to him was knocked over and the lamp had been thrown into the corner. On the other side, his bookshelf had fallen down, spilling over two dozen books across his floor. Once again, he felt a part of himself moving, as he had in the dream. It was a part of him, but it felt foreign and unfamiliar, originating from his back. Marco turned his head and then immediately screamed.
Behind him, or rather, attached to him, were a pair of large, radiant, semi-transparent wings. They gave off a dazzling light that illuminated the whole of his small bedroom. In a panic, Marco jumped out of bed, turning in a circle. The wings whipped around with him, tearing his curtains off the wall and thumping loudly into the closet door. Eyes wide with fright, Marco reached out to touch them, to tug on them. They were warm and were unmistakably attached to him at the back between his shoulders.
The terror rising inside him though was slowed as he held his hand to them. The velvety feel of the partly translucent feathers, and the sparkling light they gave off was... strangely soothing. It allowed him to think, to remember the dream he had just woken from. Drawing in a shaky uncertain breath, Marco flexed the muscles in his back once more. The strange wings collapsed, folded inward and disappeared. The light vanished, leaving Marco in the dark, breathing heavily.
This did not last though. His door flew open and the overhead light clicked on. His mom stood wide-eyed in the doorway, looking around with concern.
"Marco!?" She asked worriedly. "What happened?"
Looking around the wrecked room, Marco tried to think of something to say. He was trembling, and he realized that he was practically covered in sweat. The tank-top that he wore to bed was torn in half and hung from his body like a rag.
"I..." he looked back at his mom in genuine confusion. "I don't know." He admitted honestly. "I was asleep, and dreaming then..."
Understanding and compassion crossed his mom's face. She came forward and pulled him into a hug. "Oh, honey. You haven't had a night terror like that in years. Is something wrong?"
Hugging his mom back, Marco tried to control his breathing. It was true, when he was younger, he used to have night terrors which sometimes resulted in him screaming, lashing out, and wandering around all while fast asleep. This was not that though, and he felt a little guilty allowing his mom to believe it.
"I don't know." He said again. "I think I got into trouble in school today." Marco decided to come clean about at least some of the day's events. "I accidentally hurt someone in gym class, but no one believes it was an accident."
His mom rubbed his back comfortingly. Obviously. the wings that had been there only moments before had left no trace behind. "Honey, I know you'd never do anything like that on purpose." She laughed quietly. "You used to cry when people got hurt in movies."
Marco scowled at this but had to laugh as well.
"We'll talk about it in the morning, ok?" She promised. "I'm sure the school will understand. And I'm sure people will forgive you. Why don't you try to get some more sleep and I'll help you clean this up tomorrow?"
Feeling emotional, Marco smiled and hugged his mom even tighter. He was very tempted to tell her everything about what was going on, but he resisted the urge. "Thanks, Mom."
"That's what I'm here for." She joked, giving him a gentle squeeze. "I love you, Marco." She let him go and he sat down on the edge of his bed.
"Love you too, Mom." He replied, looking down at the ground with a smile.
Wishing him good night, his mom turned the lights out and shut the door as she left. When she was gone, Marco waited a minute or two to be sure she had returned to bed, then he stood up. Positioning himself carefully so he wouldn't knock anything over, he flexed in the same way again, trying to produce the same result. Nothing happened. He tried harder, repeating the exact same motion and feeling, but still nothing.
It definitely had not been part of the dream, right? He looked around at the destroyed room and remembered the way he had felt when he touched the wing. No, it had been real, he just couldn't make it happen again for some reason. Grunting in frustration, Marco vowed to try again tomorrow, then flopped back on his bed and was fast asleep within a few minutes.
Checking his phone yet again, Marco scowled when he saw that Colleen still had not replied to him. He had sent her another text before going to bed the night before, but thought that sending a third would be too much. Things would be so much easier if he had someone he could confide in with these new developments, and she was the only one that he trusted with this. He knew it was his own fault for the way he had treated her, and he felt guilty, but he also realized that he genuinely missed her company as well.
Marco had spent most of his Saturday morning trying to recreate what happened the night before. He alternated from lying in his bed to standing in his room, rotating his shoulders and his back every way he could think of, trying to find that feeling he had experienced right before his dream ended. Nothing seemed to be working though, and Marco was getting frustrated. Colleen would have ideas, and Marco wished she would respond to help him through this.
There was one plan he was thinking of, but it was more than a little reckless. In his dream, there was one thing that he was not able to replicate. One important ingredient that had been missing from all of his other attempts. Marco knew from his years of reading comics and studying superheroes that powers often only manifested when they were needed most. Simply standing in his room or lying in his bed, Marco did not need those wings to reappear.
And so, Marco took a bus to downtown. After scoping things out and finding what he was looking for, he was able to sneak his way onto the roof of a three-story building. Downtown in a small area like this was not very busy on a Saturday, so there were not many people coming and going. No one noticed him creep up to the roof, and no one saw him now that he was up there.
Marco's heart thudded in his chest as he thought about what he planned to do. He remembered the feeling of fear from his dream when he had run off the edge of the cliff and seen the ground far below him. That was the missing ingredient. That fear was what made him need those wings the first time.
He knew it was foolish. What if it didn't work? He would fall and hit the pavement below. If he survived, he'd be badly injured. But no, it had to work. If he was going to have powers, if he was going to be a hero, then he couldn't let his fear get in the way.
Walking to the edge of the roof and looking over, Marco shuddered. Even though it was only three stories, the ground seemed so far away. Backing up to get a running start, Marco hesitated. He remembered the tank-top he had worn the night before and how the wings had torn it apart when they unfurled. That wasn't something he wanted to happen to one of his nice shirts.
Pulling his shirt over his head, Marco shivered. The weather had not turned cold yet, but up this high the wind gave a bit of a chill. Carefully, he set the shirt to one side. If this worked, then he would hopefully be able to fly up to retrieve it. If it didn't work... well, he would probably have bigger things to worry about.
Taking several deep breaths to psych himself up, Marco took off at a run toward the edge of the building. Just before he reached it though, he lost his nerve and skidded to a halt, heart hammering. He shook his head and backed up again. Twisting his torso one way then the other, circling his arms, lifting his legs to grab his ankles one at a time, Marco tried to convince the rational part of his brain that this was happening, like it or not.
"Ok." He said to himself. "Ok. Come on." He shook out his whole body. "We can do this. I can do this..." Heaving one more massive breath, Marco began sprinting this time. He pushed himself faster than he had before, knowing that even if he chickened out, he wouldn't be able to stop his momentum.
Sure enough, at the last minute, his mind began shrieking at him that he was making a horrible mistake. Without a thought, his body began to slow itself down as the edge of the building drew closer. It was too late though. Marco let out a whimpering gasp as his ankle struck the lip of the building and he gracelessly tumbled forward into the open air.
His terror was absolute as he felt his heart doing a summersault. His stomach heaved when he saw the ground below him with nothing between them but empty space. Gravity took him and he started to plummet. Marco was too afraid and stunned to even scream. The feeling of wind racing by him sucked his breath away.
The survival instinct inside him reminded him what he was trying to do. Marco flexed his back and shoulders, trying to produce the same luminous wings that had appeared on him the night before. He felt a subtle tug at his back as if something wanted to emerge, but nothing happened. He continued to dive face-first toward the sidewalk below. This was it. This was how he died. The last thing Marco did was shut his eyes as the unforgiving pavement rushed up to meet him.