Power to Feign

He stood with his hands on his hips looking at the hundred year old red brick facade. He prepared himself to face multiple evils each trained with a specific deadly skill in order to reach the kingpin. He had trained for this moment his entire life.  Even before he opened the door he could smell the strong scent of death in his nostrils. Carnations, he hated carnations.  He took one last breath of fresh air then pushed through the doors of the church.

The church’s vestibule had a small table with neatly stacked pamphlets for senior activities, youth events, and sign-in-sheets for other nefarious volunteer opportunities. He picked up a memoriam leaflet off of the tallest stack and looked at it. Seeing his father’s picture on the front of the paper with a death date was unsettling. He had learned everything from his father both good and bad. It was his father who had passed to him the super human ability that he would use this very day. A generational power passed through his families’ bloodline.  The power to feign interest.

He almost made it through the next set of double doors when Mary Ellen Turner, the preacher’s wife, walked around the corner and barricaded the doors with open arms.

Level 1 - The Shape Shifter

Mary Ellen Turner’s weight had always been in constant fluctuation ranging from Courtney Love to Paula Deen. This year’s model was called New Adel. She hugged him and apologized for his loss, but before he could speak she started telling him a graphic and exhaustive story of how she had lost her father. She relived every 40 year old emotion in front of him. She continually wiped tears from the corner of her eyes. Mary Ellen was trained in the fighting style of emotions, and she knew how to use this weapon well.   He had seen her use it many times before through the years bringing others to tears and mush. This tactic, however, did not work on him as he just stood there staring at her with a listening yet expressionless face. After she acted out her father’s dying words ‘…and I will always be with you Mary’ she realized she had met her match. Tired from the theatrics she hugged him once again and allowed him entry into the sanctuary.

He took a quick breath feeling accomplished that his first foe had been successfully vanquished, but the real work lay ahead.

He moved down the center isle seeing the casket at the far side of the church where, at the altar, people looked on. He saw movement out of the corner of his eye. He tried to cut down the pews to the side aisle but his reflexes were not fast enough and he was caught. A grey shriveled hand clinched his wrist.

Level 2 - The Venus Fly Trap

Mr. Pierce was a frail ghost of a man that somehow had survived multiple wars and diseases to live to an ungodly age.  Mr. Pierce never released his hand as he spoke to people so as to control when the conversation started and when it was over. 

Mr. Pierce pulled him down to a knee in the aisle and spoke of pain and loss much like Ms. Turner had done, but then came his attack. Mr. Pierce was trained in the destructive fighting style of hindsight. He spoke of the things that should have been done to prevent the death and how he had tried to convince the father of such things.  He spoke of how he had known the entire time that something was not quite right and had mentioned as much to Mrs. Pierce. He even went as far to say had his father only but listed to the sage advice from Mr. Pierce he may still have been alive today.  

He was ready for such a trap and would not so easily be baited into agreeing with such nonsense. He politely nodded, patted Mr. Pierce’s cold hand and stood up breaking the connection between the two. Mr. Pierce sensing that he had been defeated patted the man on the small of his back and waited for another opportunity.

He walked away from Mr. Pierce and moved down the center aisle until he saw a combination full frontal assault coming towards him. He did not want to make the same mistake he had made with Mr. Pierce and immediately made a hard left flank to the side aisle to avoid the fight altogether. The pew was blocked at the end by a nursing mother. He was trapped. Unhindered he quickly sat down sideways with his back to the aisle so as to camouflage himself as just another griever. He sat for a moment looking down at a Hymn book that was on the pew when he heard footsteps stop behind him and an ominous two headed shadow cast down on the song book.

Level 3 - The Power Couple

 The Osburns were husband and wife who were the same age as his parents. Well dressed on every occasion and always in high demand at social functions. This was especially true where people were raising money or looking for donations. The Osburns were never seen apart. As a self made successful business couple, mercy was short on supply.   The Osburn’s method of brawling was the ancient get over it technique.

The Osburns struck quickly in a rapid fire succession of clichéd comments to ‘be strong’ and to ‘not feel sorry for yourself’.  ‘Such is life,’ Mrs. Osburn was saying when the final blows came from Mr. Osburn with a ‘pick yourself up by the bootstraps story’, to which the bleach haired and botoxed head of Mrs. Osburn nodded. 

He didn’t say anything, looked past them, waved at no one with a slight smile then looked back at the Osburns. Realizing that their time was up, they said their farewells.  He smiled as they continued down the aisle towards the door.

Three groups of attackers down, he felt good. Barely scathed, the power to feign surged through his veins. He smiled thinking of himself years ago in the same room not making it past the second level when his grandfather had passed away. What a young fool he was then.  However, the real combat lay ahead, and he knew it.

No one dared stand in the way of the final confrontation. All other fighters moved aside as if they sensed the ensuing clash that would take place next. He readied himself. He had watched his teacher, his father, be a living embodiment of this power time and time again. Now it was his time to make him proud.

He approached the leader of the group from behind as she peered into the casket. She was not shaken by his presence as the others were, she was cold and calculated. She wore all black and greeted him as she turned around.

Level 4 - The Martyred Judge

His mother was ruthless. She was the final and biggest obstacle of the day and he readied himself for the onslaught of deadly of punches, but it was no use. The insults came so quickly they took him off guard. He had expected a gradual escalation but had gotten both barrels. She commented on his clothing choice and then accused him of trying to make her look bad. 

Her fighting style was personal attacks coupled with being highly defensive. To make things worse she was a sponge of her environment. In a party she was light and free, but at a funeral she was death manifest.  

She obviously had been in contact with the Shape Shifter because her handkerchief had enough mascara on it to be considered hazardous waste. She spoke of missed opportunities, and the stubbornness of his father, again work of that fiend The Venus Fly Trap.   She fussed at his tardiness and asked, if it was not too much trouble, to try to be more helpful to her during this difficult time.

He wavered for a moment under the murderous barrage and cut his eyes to the exit sign over her right shoulder.  He thought of counter attacking and telling her how much of a damn he really cared, but he remained silent and still.  Determined to not be defeated after all he had gone through, he stood his ground and let his super human power take over.

He braced himself for what was next as she told him he needed to ‘pull himself together’ and be strong for her. The Power Couple had left their mark as well. She attacked harder faster and more personal than any other person could. On and on she went without break or reprieve until eventually she fell silent, hugged him, and left him alone with the casket. 

He had seen his father go through this same melee before from his mother. He had admired in those times how his father could politely stand there and take it all. Now the torch had been passed to him. As he stood alone with the casket he realized the worst was over for now, and he had become who he had trained his whole life to be, his father.