Mind Games

I. Preston

In a presidential suite, on the 21st floor of the Hotel Geneva, a room was fixed with a marble gas fireplace and 52" plasma television. The room was decorated in bronze, bone and brown tones. It offered spectacular views of the city and floor-to-ceiling bay windows and a furnished balcony. Near the balcony window was a white leather recliner that sat across from a large contemporary executive desk with matching credenzas and files. The desk was complete with a desk lamp, telephone, family pictures, and an events calendar. Behind the desk was a burgundy leather Highback executive swivel chair. There was a small notepad open with a few notes scribbled on it. Drawers lined along the sides of the desk. It was a wood grain finish that had been polished complete with an oil-based varnish. Along the wall were various oil paintings with abstract and non-objective imagery influenced by architecture and landscape. The suite is accessed by a private elevator.

Alexander Savery was a man of strength and resolve; he was unyielding and uncompromising. He was a kind, thoughtful, and pleasant man of education and honest demeanor. He was husky, broad-shouldered, a little short of six feet tall. He had a smooth, tan complexion devoid of any imperfections, as if he was immune to the usual curses of puberty and a smile that turned brooding eyes into twinkling lights. The 32 year old man was dressed in a black single breasted, 2 button, light weight jacket which looked like it was made with comfort in mind. It was matched with a pair of black plain bottom trousers and black casual shoes. Inside the jacket was a royal blue collarless shirt that had the top two buttons undone.

He sat behind his executive desk and leaned back in the leather chair that always gave him that empowering feel when he sat in it. It was something made just for him. A matter of perfection that he could never achieve. He always spent the beginning of the day in a type of random thought mode in order to broaden his mind when he listened to others when they spoke. In a sense he felt like a better man when he sat in the chair. It was silly of him to think of himself in that way , but it was all he could do when he was in his office alone while he waited for new patients. On any given day, Alexander was usually backed up with all the clients that needed or wanted to see him. He enjoyed being busy and he enjoyed helping the people of the city, particularly the heroes of the city.

He sat up in the chair and pressed the intercom button on his phone, “Angela, will you send in whoever’s next please?”

“Sure thing Mr. Savery,” was the reply from the phone.

A young man ducked his head in through the door of the office, “Is it ok to come in?”

Alexander stood up and motioned for the boy to come in. The new patient walked inside and revealed a plain white t-shirt and blue jeans. He wore blue and white converse shoes that looked brand new. He walked over to Alexander and shook his hand with a nervous smile, “How ya doin sir?”

“Sir,” Alexander replied with a laugh, “Now unless you find it comfortable within you to call me that, I suggest you call me Alex. Or Dr. Savery. But Alex will do just fine.”

“Ok... Alex,” the boy responded, still somewhat nervous, but a little more at ease, “I’m Preston.”

“Alright Preston, pleased to meet you. Why don’t you go ahead and have a seat and let me know what’s on your mind.”

Preston straddled the stretch recliner and checked out his new surroundings. His eyes studied every facet of the room. They stopped at one particular painting of a night life in New York. Alexander noticed the stares of the young man and saw his attention focus at the painting.

“You ever been to New York,” the Doctor asked as he came from around the desk.

“Huh... oh, no. I haven’t. I haven’t ben anywhere outside of here.”

“Oh you must try and visit sometime. It is a very busy place. Lights and life. An amazing place to visit.”

“Oh ok... I’ll keep that in mind.”

Once at the front of the desk, Alexander turned around and picked up the file he had on young Preston. He opened it and flipped through a few pages before he closed it again, “Says here that you’re an ice blaster.”

“Yea... I guess,” he said as he twiddled his fingers and looked down.

“What’s that like?”

“It’s pretty cool... I guess.”

Alexander could see that he wasn’t going to get anywhere with small talk so he went another route, “Preston, tell me something. How long have you-“

“Why do I have to do this,” Preston piped up.

Alexander shot Preston a surprised look. Took him aback that he spoke up the way he did. Preston’s breath had an abnormal shortness to it that only came with a guilty man during an interrogation process underneath the heat lamps.

Alexander leaned on his desk, “Well Preston,” Alexander began, “From the beginning, after a series of physical and mental tests, citizens of this fine city were able to become heroes at any given time. For a while this was ok, but soon complaints were coming in from the non-heroes of the city, filling City Hall with issues of the heroes that they had dealt with.”

Alexander paused a moment to gauge a response from Preston. He held a blank expression, but the twiddling fingers let him know he was still uncomfortable. Alexander continued, “Some of them were abusing their powers. Others became emotionally unstable when the situation got out of control. And then others endangered themselves and the lives of those they were teamed with. Basically, the city is now setting up a program of evaluation where a panel of psychiatrists spend time with new heroes and some of the old ones to see if they are fit to protect our city.”

Preston stopped twiddling his fingers and gazed into the doctor’s face. For the first time, it looked as if Preston realized why he was there.

“Did no one tell you why you had to come here,” Alexander asked.

“Not really. They just said gave me this address and told me to do what everyone said. All of it was kind of shady and secretive.”

Note to self, talk to Mr. James.

“Well Preston,” Alexander said, “If you want to leave, you can. I don’t want you to be anywhere that you don’t want to be. If you’re not ready to do this then it can wait. But I will say this, you cannot become a hero if I don’t approve you. And I can’t approve you if we don’t talk. I’ll give you a few minutes to think about it.”

“No it’s cool,” Preston replied quickly. He stood up, still straddled over the recliner, “I mean... if this has to happen, it has to happen right?”

“Exactly.”

Alexander shifted his weight and turned to grab his notepad and a pen off of the large wooden desk. He strode over to a smaller, cushion chair and sat down. Preston sat back down and slowly started to lay back into the recliner. His expression showed a scared boy who wasn’t sure what to expect when his back hit the chair. Once he did, his demeanor relaxed and he actually kind of smiled a little.

Alexander cast his weight to one side of the chair, “Alrighty, let’s get started, shall we?”

Alexander didn’t know what to expect of the young boy who started his day of patients off. He never knew what to expect of anyone that came through the door. There was always some turn of events that caused him to doubt his belief in what to expect. The fact that he was dealing with being of power that could freeze him, snap him, burn him, beat him, hold him, and a countless number of other things, allowed him to open his mind to even more than he could ever imagine.

Alexander examined Preston during their conversation with a large amount of scrutiny. The hero had an abnormal bit of nervousness that did not seem to go away. It had started with just a twiddle of thumbs, but soon became the look of a paranoid delusionist who could not give a straight answer. He couldn’t have been more than sixteen or seventeen. Another look into his file told him that he was sixteen. Preston was looking for something to happen. Alexander was determined to find out what. Another factor that Alexander noticed was the special attention Preston was giving to his watch.

“Do you have somewhere to go, Preston,” Alexander asked, with raised eyebrow.

Preston was again brought out of the trance that took his curious eyes all over the room, “What? No... I have no where to go. I just uhhh, have a thing about time.”

“Tell me about that.”

“What is there to tell you. I like to know what time it is. I don’t want to be late for things.”

“So you’re usually an on-time person. Maybe even early perhaps?”

Preston fidgeted in the chair. He was sitting up again, “Yea I guess so. I don’t like to wait for others and so I wouldn’t others to wait on me.”

“And that’s why you look at your watch?”

“Huh? No... well... I guess so. Man, I don’t know. I just like to know what time it is,” Preston finished with a heavy sigh.

“Fair enough,” Alexander paused once he’d finished to collect more thoughts. Something didn’t sit right with him. Or Preston. The five and a half foot ice blaster placed his hands in between his legs and removed them again. He replaced them and them moved them again. He did this for quite some time until he again looked at his watch.

Dr. Savery leaned forward, put his hands on his knees and rested his chin of folded hands. He decided to delve into his history, “So tell me Preston and those are very nice classics you have on by the way. Are they new?”

Preston glanced down at his shoes, “Oh... thanks. Yea they’re new. Got them yesterday.”

On the inside, Alexander was marking down a point for himself for making the young man smile. He continued with his original thought, “But yes, tell me... how did you come to receive your powers?”

The question caught Preston off guard and his ogled expression was proof. His eyes moved furiously about the room and his head perspired just below his the top of his caesarean hair cut, “My powers? Umm, yea... well my powers... they were acquired by... you know... ice.”

“Ice?”

“Yea... Ice,” Preston replied, “Radioactive ice.”
He scratched the back of his head and looked to the ceiling often as if he were pulling answers from the air, “I slipped on some radioactive ice. Yea, and I was knocked unconscious and the ice melted into me and when I woke up I had my powers,” the story began to flow easily from him.

Alexander leaned back in his chair at the end of the story with a look of curious interest to hide the b.s. expression he held in his mind, “That is very interesting Preston. Almost like something I’ve never heard before. I’d like to know a little more though,” he placed his pad and pen down on the desk, won’t be needing this

Preston gave wide-eyed look as if to ask, astounded at the Doctor’s inquisitive sense, he wants to know more... man... this is harder than I thought. Not too much longer though.

“Well what else is it do you want to know,” Preston asked.

“Well is it hard for you to control these... radioactive powers? Do you get nightmares? Have you ever hurt anyone?”

“No, it’s not hard to control and why would I get nightmares from my own powers?”

“You’d be surprised Preston. A lot of heroes out there deal with the demons they call powers everyday. Its not exactly a grand privilege to own super powers. Takes a lot of self-control and discipline,” Alexander was giving the look of a father when he spoke to his son about life.

Preston was beginning to come to the end of his rope. He was having a hard time talking about anything, “Look...Dr. Savery... I don’t have nightmares and I have never hurt anyone. I’m in complete control,” he finished his last sentence with confidence as he laid back and rested on his hands.

Alexander rubbed his chin thoughtfully while he studied Preston and then stood up and walked over to a large open area of the room, “Ok Preston. Since you’d have that control, I’m going to need to see an exhibition of power right here,” he said and pointed at a corner of the room that had been turned into a testing station of sorts so he could examine the power level of each person and determine whether he felt that it was equal to the one who owned it. It had a linoleum flooring and two walls separate from the office room’s walls for targeting.

Preston eyeballed the area and walked over to it slowly. Each step he took got harder and harder and by the time he got there, it seemed as if his feet were glued to the carpet. He stepped onto the linoleum and faced one of the walls. Alexander had walked back behind his desk and opened the top drawer. He pulled out a clipboard with a “Power Control” survey on it. After writing down some information he pointed at the targeting wall and nodded.

“Whenever you’re ready Preston, fire away... hmm, or ice away. Whichever,” he said with a playful smile.

Preston endowed an uneasy face when he looked back at the Doctor. This was definitely not in the plans for him to be doing this. He had no right to be angry but in a way he was because he felt like the doctor was toying with him. He returned his attention to the wall and cracked his knuckles. He shook his shoulders and moved his head from side to side while he blew out audible breaths of air. Pretty soon his whole body looked like it was going into convulsions. He lifted each knee to his chest and began doing stretches and jumped up and down.

“Sometimes you gotta do this,” Preston stated, “ya know... get the blood flowin and all,” he bent over to touch his toes.

Alexander tilted his head to one side while he watched the spectacle but decided to keep quiet. Preston took a sideways stance and brought balled fists to his chest and skeptically looked at the silver targeting wall. He was taking in deep breaths and didn’t move outside of that, C’mon, c’mon. Work damit, work.

His hands frosted over slightly and there was a light flurry that appeared about him

Yes!

Preston smiled and popped his arms forward to give off a rumbustious blast of ice crystals. The jagged pieces of frozen water hit the targeting wall with a crackling roar. It shattered and fell onto the ground like broken glass. An amazed and shocked look spread across Preston’s face followed by a triumphant smile as he looked back at the Alexander.

“See? My power.”

“Oh yes, I saw Preston. Very impressive. Now what else can you do?”

“Oh... well I mean... I haven’t done too much outside of that lately you know? I just got the powers recently and knew my calling was to be a hero.”

“Your calling,” Alexander said with an agreeable nod, “Good, I’m glad. However, you must have something else that you can do. Use your imagination. Try anything.”

“Oh... well I did see one guy throw his hands in the air and an ice shower came down. I bet I could do that,” he said, convinced that he really would be able to.

“Ok let’s see it.”

An overly confident Preston raised his hands into the air and closed his eyes. He imagined what he saw the day he watched the battle with the ice storm and concentrated all his efforts into that thought. He had been looking for ice, but what he got was rain. It heavily sprinkled all over Preston and onto the floor. He brought his hands down in defense to the cold rain and stepped off the floor. He watched the water run down the drain and he spun around to gauge the doctor’s reaction.

“That was uhh... a fluke. I mean.. I’m new. I guess it takes a little more concentration,” Preston said with a nervous chuckle.

Doctor Savery walked over from his desk to the testing area and peered into the drain. The sounds of drip drops could be heard. Alexander politely smiled at Preston and put a hand on his shoulder, “It’s quite alright. Don’t worry, these things happen. However, I would like to make sure that it was just a fluke and not a loss of power. So if you would,” he pointed back at the wall, “Give another couple of blasts over here.”

Preston looked at his watch and averted his eyes upward in thought. He shrugged his shoulders and stepped back onto the linoleum flooring. He gave a sideways glance at Alexander to which he responded with a light wave and an enthusiastic smile. The would-be hero brought his fists back to his chest and again took a few moments in preparation. His hands began to water and leaked out from his fingertips. It ran down his arms and fell off his elbow. His hands were so close to his chest that two wet prints were made there and spread down the rest of his shirt.

He closed his eyes in defeat and dropped his hands. He ungraciously walked back to the recliner and sat down. Alexander went to a closet near the office door and pulled out a large white towel. He handed it to Preston who took it without looking up at Alexander. The Doctor sat down in the chair across from him and let him dry off a little. He rest the clipboard on his desk without taking his eyes off Preston.

“Preston... this is the part where you come clean.”

Preston sadly looked up at the Doctor while he continued, “You don’t have any powers do you?”

Preston shook his head slowly and sighed, “No.”

“Where did you get these ice powers?”

There was a moment of silence before Preston realized that it was probably better he tell the truth now instead of him finding out later, “My brother is what they call a scrapper I guess. He found a lot of cool stuff when he went away on a weekend mission. When he got back, me and some friends of mine went to his room while he was gone and looked at the temporary powers he had been able to bring back. One of them was... this,” he said and showed the wetness on his clothes, “so my friends bet me as to how far I could make it into the hero process and well... I guess the buck stops here.”

Alexander’s initial reaction was to call someone in to take him away. It was a procedure he looked at with a lot of trepidation because he was never sure what would be done with some of these kids. Most of the time he handled things on his own.

“Preston, what you did was wrong. You endangered yourself and... you lied.”

“I know,” Preston said and fell back into the recliner.

“I’m guessing you were looking at your watch because the power had a time limit didn’t it? And I imagine your friends are probably waiting outside for you now to see how far you got, aren’t they?”

Preston nodded to each question with full regret.

“Well Preston, I think it is safe to say that you are not ready to become a hero and that your application processing stops here,” Alexander extended his hand toward Preston and stood up, “Have a good day.”

A surprised Preston shook Alexander’s and stood up as well, “That’s it? You’re not calling the cops or anyone?”

“You’ve got a lot to learn son, and calling the cops is not going to help you learn anything. I suggest you tell your brother what you did... and then find a new set of friends to hang out with.”

Alexander returned behind his desk and put his clipboard back into the drawer. A confused Preston walked to the office door and turned the knob. He opened it and peeked outside to see another man sitting outside by the secretary’s desk. He turned around and gave one last look at Dr. Savery.

“You always knew didn’t you Doc?”

“No... I didn’t.”

Preston focused on the carpet and shook his head. He left with a smile and closed the door behind him.

“Thanks.”

(III. Last Words)

Zero Assault, Double Take, and Ballistic arrived at the mouth of the cave that held the Council base they were given a lead on by a captured Archon who was more than willing to tell about his comrades. His open demeanor led them to believe that there was possible plans of sabotage, but it was dismissed when the Council boss was murdered by his own suit. Apparently there was some sort of listening device on the collar and the listeners didn’t appreciate the information the heroes had obtained.

Ballistic set small sticky bombs on the hinges of the cave door. After setting them he took several steps back before he detonated them and blew the door in. He studied his handy work along the door’s frame and nodded in satisfaction.

“One day we have got to try knocking. I know they can’t ever appreciate this,” Zero Assault said as he stepped over a portion of the door.

“Yea ok, and while you’re at it, we can bring some tea and crackers,” Ballistic sneered. He had a deep, gruff voice. A voice that spoke harsh experience. He was a man in his late thirties and the years had definitely began to take a toll on him. However, he never minded the days and nights as long as his partners were there to back him up. He was a man who led and pushed the indecisive ones out of the way.

Double Take threw a hand in the air to silence them, “Don’t... both of you. Not today. Stay focused so we can be in and be out. I got a date tonight.”

The other two heroes both rolled their eyes at the third hero. He had joined the trio two years prior and quickly became a valued asset with his combat abilities. He spent most of his growing up fighting and put it to good use after his father died in order to that one good turn his father promised him to do. Double Take was a confident fighter and carried that confidence into his nightlife. A man of many words and even more actions, Double Take was the energy of the group.

“Hey don’t hate the playa,” he said and left it at that.

The three heroes followed in close proximity down the initial hallway of the cave. There was a calm and eerie silence that they had never experienced. The only sound that could be heard was the unsteady drip that fell out of the pipeline above them. The path led to a two-way intersection and as they all looked left and right, Zero Assault removed an Atlas coin from his pocket.

“Atlas left, World right,” he said and flipped the coin in the air.

World.

Zero Assault put the coin back into his pocket and pointed in the direction they were now to go. He was always the glass half-full of the group. Zero Assault always tried to make light of every situation because he was sure that everyday was his last day and that he wanted to go down either laughing or fighting, the two things that made him happiest. He brought forth a cynical view of life and a common sense to the group.

Ballistic took the lead and crept stealthily along the rocky walls. He allowed on hand to follow along on the stones and the other held tightly to Rebecca, his newly enhanced rifle with advanced scope options, grenade launcher, automatic fire, and flame thrower. It did everything but tell time. He named it after his late wife who died during a Devouring Earth raid that went horribly wrong. For years he was caught up in blaming himself for her untimely death and everyday he was plagued with “what ifs” and “how comes”. Eventually, with the help of his friends and team, he was able to cope with her passing and get back to what he was destined to do.

Ballistic raised a fist into the air to halt the group, patted his head and pointed forward. In seconds, Double Take returned to his position in the rear.

“Seven and the hostage,” he whispered, “Cake.”

Ballistic turned around and blazed a look into Double Take’s eyes. He pointed a finger at him and gave one shake of his head. DT mouthed the words, “Sorry,” and waited for Ballistic to stop staring at him so that he could breathe again. Nothing was ever cake. Ballistic had taught him to expect that which you hope to be there, but never be surprised when it’s not. Stay on your guard, ever-vigilant.

Ballistic pointed a finger to the ground and signaled for the two scrappers to stay where they were. He laid down on the ground and slithered as close as he could to the group of Council members that were nearest. There were four of them and they were speaking of the new design plans for the new Mek soon to be built. The other three carefully guarded the young woman that was held hostage. They never took their eyes off of her. One of the men poked at her with his rifle and laughed as the other two just continued to stare at her. The room was somewhat small. It was a dead end. There were various shipment crates on the right that had small spaces in between them for cover. A database console stood near the talking four and beeped endlessly. The lighting was bright and there wasn’t a shadow in sight. Every corner was illuminated and darkness had no where to hide.

Ballistic pulled two small EXS smoke grenades, one timed and the other launch-ready, from his tact-belt and prepped them for deployment. He zeroed in on the hostage through the scope on Rebecca and raised an eyebrow at what he saw. The woman didn’t move. She almost looked unconscious. He gazed once more into the scope and watched the senseless prodding that was done by the Council gunman and that was all Ballistic needed to get the ball rolling.

He set the grenades in front of him and loaded one into his rifle. The other he turned until he found a small gray button that initiated the four second timer on it. Grenade in hand he waved his hand into the air and Zero Assault and Double Take stood at the ready. Double Take’s boots lit up and gave an impression of fire. He was lifted inches off the ground. The illumination around his footwear seemed to hold his body in the air as he waited for the go. Zero Assault cracked his knuckles and neck and practiced making fists.

Zero Assault tapped DT on the shoulder and smiled, “You ready to do this?”

“Come on... when am I not,” he replied with a pat on Zero Assault’s back.

Ballistic aimed Rebecca at the hostages and placed a finger in front of the trigger. His other hand held the gun steady and the grenade.

The grenade’s button was pressed and the timer began.

4.

Ballistic rolled the smoke bomb into the direction of the 4 men who stood idly in the room.

3.

He once again checked the distance and angle for his shot and pressed the trigger on his rifle.

2.

The grenade was launched into the air and sailed effortlessly toward the members holding the young woman hostage. It landed and rolled several feet before hitting one of the soldier’s feet. The timed grenade rolled right into the middle of the men who were positioned next to the computer. The computer began printing data/

1.

The man turned around to see the grenade just as it emitted a fierce cloud of black smoke that surrounded all three men and sent them into a coughing fit. The timed grenade went off at the same time and gave off the same black smoke that remitted the same results.

0.

Double Take lived up to the nature of his name and allowed his shoes to do the work for him as he moved through the first crowd with lightning speed. Zero Assault blinked hard and his eyes were turned into extra-sensory optic enhancements. He could see each man that stood over the hostage and physical attribute information. He sized up each man and planned his attacks accordingly. The retinal scanner in his eyes made recommendations as to what action to take, but it was something that he seldom listened to. He ran into the room and performed a roundoff into four back hand springs that sent him into the air. The double barrel back flip landed him in between the hostage and the men that watched her. He dropped to the ground and made a clean sweep under the soldiers’ feet. The men hit the ground with a thud. Their coughing was subsiding, but still continued. Ballistic took a sniper’s position behind one of the stacked shipping crates and waited for any stragglers. He knew there wouldn’t be any. There never were. That’s what he loved about the two.

Double Take used his speed and sprinted circles around the set of four. The smoke tornadoed about them and soon the men were losing their footing and fell to the ground. Zero Assault turned around and knelt next to the young woman that sat on the floor.

“Don’t worry, some people just need to learn that smoking is bad for your health,” he smiled and grabbed her hand.

His smile quickly faded and his hand went from hers to her arm and finally her face. Everything about it was soft and felt like a cushion. It hadn’t occurred to him that his scanner never picked up any life signs from her. He dropped the fake arm and looked behind him. The smoke had dissipated and all 3 Council members looked schemingly at him. They packed their fists into their hands repeatedly. Zero Assault looked past them to see Double Take drop the final member in the quartet. He shot glances around the rest of the room and his face wrinkled something serious.

“AMBUSH!”

Darkness filled the room with furious curiosity and all that could be heard was Double Take’s breathing. Soon there was no sound. None of the heroes took a step. The vents above everyone started to make a whooshing noise as air passed through the ducts.

Double Take took one step for the entrance to the room. Lasers appeared along the walls and DT retraced his step. If the lights had been turned on, each hero’s face would have been seen looking around the room as if they were tracking a fly. The lasers increased their length and decreased in timed in and out motions. A faint high pitched noise sounded off in the dark. Ballistic perked up his ear and tried to pinpoint the sound. He pulled out a flare from his cargo pocket and snapped it on. He threw it into the air and the light was shot out of the sky with a miniature missile.

The trio’s eyes went wide in the blackness.

Lights.

“MOOOOOVE,” Ballistic’s voice echoed throughout the entire cave building.

The rocky wall that gave the Council room its shape was lined with metal. All around the room there were robots, big and small. In between each mechanical creature stood a Council soldier. The infantry scowled at the three do-gooders and all of them, including the original seven men, beat the fists into their palms.

Double Take was the first to make a move for escape. His speed sent him flying for the entrance. As he neared it, a sliding door fell from the top of the entrance and locked down with a bang. DT reached the door and punched a fist into it to check its toughness. It was like punching titanium alloy. He looked back with a horrific look in his face. It was the look of a young boy who suddenly became very afraid. His face paled and Ballistic could almost see the energy drain out of him as his feet returned to the ground. A wide-eyed Zero Assault also looked at Ballistic for guidance due to his own fear. The leader shot glances at both of them and was thankful that he was far enough away that they couldn’t see the readjustment he was making to his own face.

*Not here. Not now. Not ever. These kids make it out of here ALIVE!*

Ballistic nodded at Zero Assault and then to Double Take. The confidence he showed renewed the two younger heroes and they stood taller. Battle ready and prepared for anything the trio turned to the back of the room where their threat lied. Double Take felt the speed initiate underneath him. Zero Assault inspected all options with his retinal scanner.

Ballistic cocked his rifle and gave a mischievous half smile.

“Lets go to work!”

Last Words pt. II deleted for editing

Samson Mitchell stood near a window and looked down. It was so far up, everyone looked like ants. Insignificant specks under the sun.

Just like me

Nearby, a glass cleaner listened to music as he started a new row and washed the windows several feet below. Samson opened up a window and took in the Paragon air. Stale. Dead. At least to him, it was. He lazily let his head lean on his shoulder as he turned toward Dr. Savery. His eyes went past him to see the various certificates Alexander had received in his work in Psychology.

“Hey Doc, mind if I smoke a bit,” he said and removed an open package of cigarettes from inside his shirt pocket before he heard an answer.

Dr. Savery sat up in his executive chair behind his desk and began to protest, but thought against it. He relaxed, sat back and watched Samson from a distance.

Samson Mitchell was a towering 6'6". There were a number of scars on his arms and each of them probably told a different story. He wore an old, faded denim shirt, unbuttoned to show his white t-shirt and army green cargo pants over black combat boots. He had tired hazel eyes and mean wrinkles spanned across his forehead. His lightly tanned skin was topped off by whispy, silver hair that thinned more everyday. It was complimented by the 5 o’clock shadow that never changed its time.

Samson lit up the cigarette and took a long drag. He finished inhaling and closed his eyes. He held the smoke in for a few moments before he released it into the air. His eyes partially opened as though he were waking up for the first time that day. He blinked a few times and gathered his bearings. He turned back to Alexander again with the same lazy look.

“Ants Doc. That’s all we are, are ants. We work without rest. Even when we sleep, we work. When we play, we work,” he paused to take another drag, “we just work.”

Savery jotted down a few notes into his notepad and looked up thoughtfully at Samson, “What about relaxation? Isn’t that a peaceful time with no work?”

“No way Doc. We have to work at EVERYTHING. There is no peace. That’s why there are heroes out there in the world doing what they can.”

“Heroes like you?”

Samson hung his head low. The sun beat against his head and every small strand of grayish-white hair reflected against the light. His eyes were trained on the carpet floor as if he was hypnotized by something beyond it.

“Nah... not like me Doc. Not like me at all.”

Alexander’s face remained blank as he continued to talk to Samson, “Well last time I checked, you were a hero and looking right now at your papers,” he replied as he thumbed through Samson’s file, “it says Samson Mitchell... Ballistic.”

“Ballistic,” the words almost fell out of his mouth hesitantly, “He doesn’t exist. Not anymore.”

“I think he still does. Besides, I think it is as they say Mr. Mitchell - there is a hero in us all”

“Well that’s a load of crap,” he said as he spat over the ledge.

“Why is that? I mean... heroes are the saviors of the world. Well one of them anyway.”

Samson left the window ledge and came around the reclining chair that he originally was supposed to be sitting in and plopped down. He was slouched deep into the chair and his arms hung over the chair’s arms.

“Saviors... heh,” he said as he rolled his eyes, “Who do we save? Others? So they can get into the same mess again a few days later?”

“No I think it’s more-“

“Samson continued to talk as if Alexander never spoke, “Ourselves? So we can fight another day? No... we save ourselves so we can live... no one wants to die, Doc. No one ever is ready for that. So these so-called heroes run. They save themselves because they feel that their life is above those that they are saving or those who’s lives they are up against. We’re not save-yours, Doc... we’re save-ours.”

Dr. Savery looked up from his notepad at Samson and suddenly something dawned on him. He had thought that this was all about the usual temporarily depressed hero who happened upon an unusual circumstance beyond their control. They become greatly saddened, but in the end they are all able to cope with their current existence. Samson, Alexander realized, had gone beyond that normal mode of depression and turned into something quite worse. The vacant look in his eyes. The hateful tone that had shown through his deep and gruff voice. The way he had walked about sluggishly and without purpose. It was all there.

Savery closed his notepad and brought folded hands to his lips. He stared intently at Samson as he knew his next statement could make or break the entire session.

“Well from the looks of it, Mr. Mitchell, it sounds like you have grasped quite a concept on the whole case of heroism. So I wouldn’t expect you to be the runner you speak of. It would seem that you would always be there for those you were saving,” he watched as Samson’s face twinged from his thoughts. The hero slowly began to sit up in his chair as the Doctor spoke.

“Whether they be a regular pedestrian... or... fellow teammate...”

His last words caused Samson face to explode in a series of emotions. Most of them were in-between fighting back tears that forced their was out of his eyes anyway. Alexander blinked once in accord with the slow and steady motion of his breath. He dropped his hands onto the desk and picked his notepad back up. He opened it, but decided not to write anything. The hero known as Ballistic sat in the recliner and fought his emotions through clenched fists and gritted teeth. To him, Alexander wasn’t even there.

“Samson,” his name sparked his ears and he shot a fierce look at the Doctor that took him aback, “You are a hero. And you are a savior. Just because one life may slip away from you does not mean-“

Samson mumbled angrily under his breath, “Yes it does...”

“What,” Alexander said and turned an ear to the man’s words.

“Yes it does,” Samson exclaimed, “It does. I am responsible for each and every life I can’t save. Zero Assault, DT... Rebecca...” the last word trailed off into the air.

The names rung bells in Savery’s head. He read about the two heroes and his wife in the file that was brought to him before Samson had come in for his appointment, “No, Mr. Mitchell, they were not your fault.”

Ballistic shot out of the chair like a rocket and stepped to the Doctor’s desk. He slapped his hands on the wooden table and breathed heavily. Savery rolled back in his chair and stood up. Several tears fell onto the desk from Samson’s reddened eyes.

“Yes...THEY WERE! All of them! They all looked to me. Looked up to me. And I let EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM DOWN! All of them!”

He spun around and paced about the room. He spoke to himself while flailing his arms madly. It looked as if he was convincing himself of things. There was a mental power struggle going on and Dr. Alexander was struck in the middle of it. He stopped pacing and was near the window again. His body relaxed and calmed down. He looked at Alexander and the Doctor felt like the hero was attempting to pierce his mind to instill his own thoughts into Alexander’s.

“Why Doc... why? Why am I alive? Why do people around me have to die? Why couldn’t I save them?”

His voice was abnormally calm for someone who had just gone through what he had. Samson leaned on the wall near the window and slid down to the floor. Relieved, the psychiatrist sat back down and grabbed a kleenex from a box near his phone. He dragged the kleenex across the table and stopped short at where the tears fell. He stared at them for a few moments and threw the soft napkin away. Alexander picked up Samson’s file and opened it up once more. He decided to pick up where they left off in order to restore a balance to their session.

“Ok well,” Savery said and flipped pages in the file, “as you were saying earlier... Ballistic no longer exists. Well from the looks of it, this non-existent Ballistic character conducting missions as of last week at a Were-Council breeding site.

Alexander scanned the page about the mission more carefully, “Wow, you did this solo? I had always heard that the wolf herds were a team-oriented thing, but it says here you were by yourself.”

Samson stood up and switched his position back to the window sill and propped a foot up. He caught on to the Doctor’s slight change in pace and went along with it.

“Of course I did em solo. No use for extras.”

“You mean... no use for a team?”

“Call it what you want Doc. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“And what helps you sleep at night, Mr. Mitchell?”

Ballistic took out a small bottle of pills and shook them in front of the Doctor before placing them back in his pocket.

Alexander nodded and wrote down a few more notes.

Samson cocked an eye in Alexander’s direction, “Whatcha writin there Doc,” he said and roughly cleared his throat.

Alexander looked up from his notes and turned the notepad around so Samson could see that there were words on the paper, “Just a few things I find noteworthy Mr. Mitchell. That’s all.”

Samson let the leg he propped up hang loosely over the window ledge. Alexander stood up in reaction and walked from around his desk. It was calmly, but with urgency. Samson watched Dr. Savery and smiled.

“Doc what are you worried about? That I’m gonna kill myself,” he laughed at the thought and grabbed onto the window above him, “No Doc, I can’t kill myself now,” he continued through laughter.

Alexander closed the distance between the two of them and rested his hands behind his back, “Ok then Mr. Mitchell, how bout-“

“Doc, call me Samson,” he said, “I mean... come on. Why the formalities,” he said and hung his head outside the building and let one of his hands flail into the outside air

Alexander reached a head, but stopped and closed his eyes as he regained his composure, “Ok... Samson. I’m going to have to ask you to come back inside. They see you hanging outside of my window and people start to wonder what’s really going on.”

Ballistic stopped laughing and stared deeply in Alexander’s eyes. There was a certain amount of lunacy that Alexander saw and he feared for Samson’s life, “But what really is going on here Doc? Huh? I’m only here because they, out there, think I’m incapable of being a hero. But you know what I think Doc? Huh? You know what I think? I think...,” he said and turned his look back outside and looked down, “I think they just want to have a reason to get rid of me. I’m the reason of too many deaths Doc... even my own.”

Alexander eyes pleaded with Samson’s, “How is that really the reason? I’m here to help. Not condemn, Samson. Now I need you to come back inside so you don’t kill yourself, please.”

Samson Mitchell stopped laughing. His eyes saddened and his mouth opened as if he had something to say, but the words got caught in his throat. He had become lost and the fingers that hung onto the raised window were loosening one by one. He looked at Alexander and the Doctor saw tears formulate in his eyes.

“Doc, I can’t kill myself. I did that a long time ago. I’m just gettin rid of the body.”

No amount of super speed could have stopped Samson “Ballistic” Mitchell from falling over the window ledge. However, Dr. Savery tried all the same with outstretched hands that were already too far away from the former hero. His breath was suspended and the last thing Alexander saw was a loose shoelace that the disappeared below the window ledge.

BOOM!

The explosion could be heard for miles. The quaking for even longer. Smoke poured out of the Council base door that Ballistic and his crew had blown open. Several Council members filed out and some tripped over the door that laid at the foot of the entrance. They were covering their mouths and choking from the smoke as they squinted their eyes through all the gases and looked for a way to escape. Most of them ran into another nearby base. Others took off across the hilly plains toward the Wolf’s Throat. Smaller explosions could be heard from inside the cave and the attention of outside company was getting bigger. Various Were-council had gathered at the door entrance and curiously swiped at the smoke. Their slashes into the air were randomly followed by agonizing screams and Council bodies hitting the dirt ground.

Ballistic stumbled through the crowd of soldiers as he carried Double Take over his shoulders. He took out another grenade that had been attached to his belt and grabbed the pin with his teeth. He stopped before he threw the grenade and turned his back to the blast.

BOOM!

The remaining Council members and Warwolves were sent flying into the air, some whole, the rest in pieces. Ballistic turned back toward the door and shifted Double Take’s weight on his shoulders. He cleared through the smoke and into a raining array of arms, legs, fur, and various portions of Council armor. Ballistic heard the ferry whistle and walked in the direction of its sound. He could feel a small pounding on his back and stopped near a tree to check on his teammate.

“What’s goin on? How ya feelin?”

Double Take winced and lightly touched his side. There was a deep gash from some shrapnel that tore into his skin after an small explosion erupted in one of the crates in the cave. There were pieces still lodged in his side and the pain didn’t seem to be getting better.

“Aww man... can you see me right now? I mean... really... I can’t go on a date like this?”

The old leader couldn’t help but smile, “You’ll be fine, she’ll love ya. Now come on, lets go. Gotta get you to a hospital.”

Ballistic began to hoist Double Take back on his shoulders, but the young hero stopped him, “No... I can’t. It hurts too much. Besides.. You and I... both know that I’m not makin this.”
Ballistic furrowed his eyebrows and grabbed DT’s face with both hands, “No, don’t say that. Don’t say that. You’re gonna be fine. Soon as I get you to-“

“NO...,” he coughed the words out. Blood trickled out of the corner of his mouth, “I want you to look at me...”

Ballistic closed his eyes and turned away from the boy, “Don’t do this.”

Double Take’s voice had grown firm and direct, “Look at ME...and tell me that I’m going to make it to that boat and make it to that hospital and make it to see tomorrow.”

Ballistic turned to look at Double Take through painful eyes. They spoke more truth than words ever could, “D... I... I... I can make it...”

Double Take smiled and rest his head on the bark of the tree, “Yea... you’ll make it... for me... and Zero,” his eyes turned toward the grass.

The old man grabbed the dying hero’s arms and placed them around his shoulder’s, “No.. Not this time. Already lost Zero. Not gonna lose you too. I’ll just find you one of those empaths.”

“We both know that once I go, I’ve got 45 seconds to come back. 45 seconds and I’m crossed. Who will you find in 45 seconds? You don’t know any empaths. You never liked them.”

“Well then I guess we have to get moving then. We-“

“Will you stop,” this time Double Take grabbed Ballistic’s face, “You can’t save em all. You know that. I know that. We just do what we can within our power. Zero knew that. He knew what he was doing when he took the brunt of that blast from that crate for me. He knew it. He gave me the chance to keep fighting until the fighting was done. And now its done. This is life. We deal... cards in,” he finished with a thoughtful laugh.

We deal. Cards in. Something Ballistic always said when one of them complained.

“Just... watch over me... like you always do,” Double Take coughed and grabbed his side.

Samson, defeated, sat down next to Double Take and placed an arm around him. He took the kids head and laid it into his chest. He looked on as Warwolves growled and pointed at the two if them as they sat back against the tree. But neither of them cared.

It had felt like hours had passed before Ballistic grabbed Double’s arm to check for a pulse. Gone. He relaxed the boy’s head into his lap and looked into his eyes. They were distant. Blank. The kind of eyes that looked like they were hypnotized forever. Eyes that were stuck in one last trance of thoughts that ran through your head whenever you were breathing your last.

Ballistic ran a dirt-encrusted and scratched hand over the protege’s eyes and closed them for the last time. The eternal blink.

Soon, he was on his feet and bent over to pick up the dead hero. He carried him to the ferry, to the hospital, and to the grave.

****

His hands closed to fists and his eyes clenched shut as he turned his face away from the window. He released the held breath and a spurt of coughs and choking came over him when he stumbled over to his desk phone. He pressed the call button on the phone and feel into his chair.

“Angela... call... the... call the police.”

Angela rushed in through the office door and ran to Alexander’s desk, “Oh my God, what happened? Where’s Mr. Mitchell?”

Alexander’s coughing fit was subsiding and he raised a weak finger and pointed to the window before he let it drop on the table.

“Oh... God...,” the words were a mere whisper as Angela brought a hand up to cover her mouth.

“Angela,” Alexander exclaimed and she jumped in reaction, “Police! Now!”

The secretary dashed back out of the office and to her desk in the waiting area.

Alexander laid his head on his desk and stayed there. Thoughts ran wild in his mind about “shoulda, woulda, coulda”. His breathing had become heavier and uncontrolled. Anger overcame him and he pounded his fist into his desk several times. The final time caused the wood on the desk to crack slightly under the continued pressure and it caused Alexander to stop. He looked up at the damage and cursed himself. A voice could be heard from somewhere but he hadn’t focused on where it was coming from.

“Hello... hello... anyone up there... HELLO?”

Alexander took glances around the room before he stood up and realized it had been coming from outside his window. The Doctor jumped over the desk and dived to the window ledge and peered down.

“Oh hey! Man... I thought no one else was there.”

The window washer took off the headphones he had been wearing and looked up at the Doctor and squinted from the sunlight. He looked back down at Samson and shrugged his shoulders, “I don’t know man, he just kinda fell out or something.”

Alexander was at a complete loss for words, but found the ability to speak, “How is he?”

The window washer stared at the man who had fallen next to him. He picked up one of the arms to check Samson’s pulse and lightly dropped the arm once it was checked. The young man got back to his feet and looked back up. He placed a hand on his forehead to shield his eyes as he looked back at the Doctor.

“Well, he’s unconscious, but... there’s a pulse. He’s gonna make it.”

Alexander sighed relief and dropped to his knees.

We deal... cards in

Last words. Spoken by a man who had thought to end it all. The words swirled in Alexander’s head and the smile across his face turned into a hearty laugh. Samson Mitchell was given a second chance at life... and so had Alexander Savery.