Super Hero
Super Hero super hero stories
  2
  •  
  0
  •   0 comments
Share

oddandotherwise
oddandotherwise Writer for fun
Autoplay OFF   •   a year ago
My head throbbed, a dull thrum that rolled through it with each heartbeat. With bleary eyes I rolled my head upwards to see my shop aflame. Dragged out into the street, the smell of smoke cloying the senses.

Super Hero

My head throbbed, a dull thrum that rolled through it with each heartbeat. With bleary eyes I rolled my head upwards to see my shop aflame.

Dragged out into the street, the smell of smoke cloying the senses.

"My garage... What... what did you do?" Words fell uncertain between each cough, a hand rising to touch and stem the steady trickle of slick red down the side of my face.

"Stopping a criminal." The words were cold, definite and slightly arrogant. Vanguard, a super hero, stood not too far off, no doubt watching the fire consume my residential home.

He was tall, as tall as anyone of his stature and title could be. His features were heroic, broad chin, brilliant green eyes, and a smug confidence about him.

He looked more like a statue cut from marble, than anything close to a natural human being, but, he was a poster boy for the League of Heroes.

"You broke your agreement and started designing more suits, from the looks of it, something that would have made you impervious to kinetic energy and safe from physical harm.

I'm here to make sure you never finish it, and go back to prison. Don't worry, the paramedics will help you before the police take you in, I saw to it personally."

I had stopped being the engineer about six years ago when I got out on parole on good behaviour.

I felt like I was too old, and by my last fights against Vanguard and the league of heroes had broken any idea of being a super villain, much less a criminal.

The throbbing worsened, a dull thrum that rolled through it with each heartbeat that made thinking, much less consciousness, painful.

With bleary eyes I rolled my head upwards to see my shop aflame. I had been dragged out into the street, the smell of smoke choking each breath and burning my eyes.

"My garage- what... what did you do?" The words felt uncertain between each cough.

Reaching up with a hand rising to touch the temple where I had taken a blow revealed the heat I felt on my face wasn't just from the fire,

but from a steady trickle of blood running down the side of my face.

"Stopping a criminal." Vanguard's words were cold, definite and slightly arrogant. A super hero. 'The Super Hero' stood not too far off, no doubt watching the fire consuming my home.

The idyllic street we were on had dreamy suburban houses for the average American family, quiet, peaceful, and many of them new families hoping to live away from the hustle of the city center.

Slowly, as if mice coaxed out of their burrows, men and women curiously peered from behind blinds and through windows before onlookers began to fill the sidewalks,

worried at the sight of a fire and confused with the appearance of Vanguard himself, towering over a man they had known to be a recluse at best.

"You broke your agreement and started designing more suits, from the looks of it, something that would have made you impervious to kinetic energy and safe from physical harm.

I'm here to make sure you never finish it, and go back to prison.

" Turning his head, Vanguard cast his gaze down upon me, two piercing green eyes and a voice full of disappointment, "Don't worry, the paramedics will help you before the police take you in,

I saw to it personally."

Once, I had called myself The Engineer and masqueraded as a super villain and robbed small banks or stores,

however that ended the moment I was incarcerated and continued to be a distant memory about six years ago when I made parole on good behaviour.

I felt like I was too old, and by my last fight against Vanguard and the League, I was ready to call it quits. I was tired of being the bad guy, I didn't want to fight anymore.

My reason to fight was long gone.

"It- No, no you can't do this! My work, I need to save it!

" I tried to move but gasped instead when my arm gave and I fell forward, dazed as I was I could tell it and a few ribs, had been broken.

The bastard had thrown me through the garage door with enough force still to bounce me down the driveway.

Suddenly, the adrenaline and shock began to wear off, and excruciating aches and pains rocked through me, and I wondered before I began coughing and wincing in pain why he did that.

I wasn't superhuman without a suit on.

"I can, and I have." he turned to me, his voice growing grave with authority with each syllable, "You were plotting to build another suit of yours and wreak havoc again.

I had to stop that before you got the chance to use it and put more people at risk."

I didn't need the money anymore, I didn't need to rob banks. My wife had left me a decades ago, so long I couldn't clearly remember her face or voice.

"It wasn't for me!" More coughing, trying to catch my breath through ragged wheezing, voice choked by more than smoke now. Hard emotions rushing up, fighting through pain and brain fog.

It was the happiest day of my life when my daughter was born. My wife and I were ecstatic, we had planned and prepped and picked out her name.

She wanted a German name for her, but I won out, and we had named her Nina. I was a half Souix on my mother's side, and I wanted her to have her Grandmother's name.

She was had been a warrior fighting for her people's rights and freedom. We decided on Nina, because she had fought to survive from day one, and was my little warrior.

Osteogenisis imperfecta. Brittle bone disease. My little warrior came out crying harder than she should have. None of us were sure how we missed it, why it wasn't more obvious, but we missed it.

Even with the brain fog, I remember every little detail of every second of that day. It was more than a memory, it had been burned into me.

There was no cure, and being a mechanic doesn't help pay the bills. Medical costs, physiotherapy, specialized care and equipment, the costs just kept rising and the debt kept deepening.

So when money got tight, going back to school to finish my masters degree in mechanical engineering wasn't possible. So I poured everything into my work and theories at home.

It took months of sleepless nights, designing and assembling something that could help. I couldn't afford the patents for it, and there was no guarantee it would have even worked at all.

Eventually, I had built my first suit, and robbed my first bank. It worked, I had money and my daughter could cope. It wasn't enough, nor couldn't ever be enough, but it was a start.

"I need to get it before the fir- please.

" My body wouldn't listen to me, nor had I the strength to do more than plead through the smoke, the pain, or the agony, "please please l- I need to get it.

" He just smiled, and watched my life turn to little flecks of ash floating in the air, ephemeral and unimportant save for the trouble of coming out here.

The wife didn't approve of what I had chosen to do, who would? I was The Engineer, a small time villain and thief.

Eventually, my small time robberies drew the attention of heroes when the police weren't enough to stop me.

The first few times, I had actually won; sometimes I'd escape, the rest I had to cut my losses and run.

With all the other villains around, and the fact I never took hostages or killed the hapless civilian in the wrong place at the wrong time,

I was regarded as a minor news segment compared to the other worldly horrors and would be conquerors.

That was until one day my little Nina had an accident. It took a second. But my little warrior fell out of her crib and. That was it.

I was fighting with my wife over something, we looked away from her long enough for her to climb out of her little pen and fall on her head. I could have stopped at anytime.

We had enough money to be secure for the short term, enough for me to buy a patent, or go to school, or find a better job. I never stopped blaming myself, and neither did my ex-wife.

I was drunk on my last day as The Engineer. I was angry. At how unfair everything had been, how hard I had worked and had nothing to show for it.

So I took it out on people, I tore up everything I could in the City Center, cars, lightpoles, shopfronts.

I had barely gotten 20 minutes into my little rampage before Vanguard himself showed up, and peeled me open like a can of soup. The rest is history.

The fire spread fast, the front of the house began to groan underneath now compromised supports and walls.

I should have realized it sooner, but in a moment of clarity horror gripped my stomach, enough that I wanted to vomit.

I didn't have much to my name, no keepsakes from my marriage or any real interests other than tinkering. "Please! It wasn't for me, it was- it wasn't for me!"

Grabbing Vanguard's ankle and kicking with my legs, I pulled myself up to him, though he barely seemed to notice me pulling, much less squeezing his ankle.

"She's still in there- you have to save her, please!" I put the last of my strength in squeezing his ankle, trying to get him to understand, to see what I was trying to do.

What was still inside. My headache throbbing to the sound of sirens closing in, before the world lost sound.

As the flames consumed the little wooden urn, her pictures, and the little room she used to live in. The light that consumed what was left of my little warrior, danced in his eyes.

Stories We Think You'll Love 💕

Get The App

App Store
COMMENTS (0)
SHOUTOUTS (0)