Heros

Mind control feels like the wrong word for something that has nothing at all to do with your mind.

There’s a whole slew of super powered individuals in this city, breathing the same foul smelling air as me. All of them think they have the right to do whatever the hell they want.

These people all call themselves superheroes, but there’s an endless debate about which of these really are heroes, and which of these aren’t. One of these people is named Brainwasher.

The idiot in question hovers in the air above me, held aloft by boots with small boosters jutting out the bottom. The heat of the flames distorts the shape of the buildings behind him, so they’re all wobbling like a cheap magicians pencil.

“Stay calm, citizens!” He exclaims noblely. Some cheer, others boo. Some, like myself, roll their eyes.

For the record, Brainwasher is a stupid name. It's too long, and has no good nickname. If I could control the bodies of whoever I wanted, then I would choose a much better, shorter name. But I don’t have that power, or any powers-period. Otherwise there would be an actual superhero in the city.

I turn to walk away and ignore the dramatic clown’s performance.

The bank where I have all my accounts had accidentally withdrawn five thousand dollars from one account, and transferred it to God-knows-where, so now it's a total pain in my butt that I have to deal with.

Just then, the doors to the bank swings open, nearly swiping my nose clean off my face. A man wearing a medical mask and sunglasses slams into me. He twists and keeps running, but I fall right on my butt. You know, the one with the total pain in it. He’s holding a gun in one hand, and a limp, empty sack in the other.

If you can control minds, you could just make an attempted bank robber march off to a police station easily as blinking, but apparently Brainwasher doesn’t want to end a conflict without showing off.

He uses his powers on me, to aid in the arrest. I hear his voice in my head, and before I know it, I’m on my feet and running at the robber.

I tackle him, hitting my head in the process. All the while Brainwasher floats safely above. I would shout at him to get down here and deal with his own crap, but my mouth isn’t in mine to control at the moment.

I stand, and another innocent bystander is pulled into the conflict. We grip the man's arms, even though handcuffs hang from Brainwasher’s belt.

I would glare at the jerk if I could make my eyes move.

Follow me. I hear his voice again, and I’m forced to follow.

We walk six freaking miles to a police station. Six. He couldn’t pay for a taxi? Or even let us drive our own cars? Or even called the police? Of course not. We parade down the road endlessly.

I can hear his commands to everyone in his control, so I know that the robber is under control too, which makes it extra unnecessary for us to all march along.

But people still applaud him and ask for signatures, some of which he makes me sign for him. I’m disgusted.

We arrive at the police station, and the captain tips his hat to Brainwasher, thanking him for the capture of the attempted robber. Finally, we are released.

“What the hell?” I snap as soon as my mouth is under my control again.

I would sue him to oblivion, but right now there is a huge court debate about whether or not superheroes are above the law. A stupid debate which means that people can have their rights violated as long as the superhero protested that it was done for justice.

There have been entire rape cases dismissed because a superhero has offered a pitiful explanation for their behavior, saying it had something to do with an arrest they made, or a villain they stopped.

“Would you rather I had let the robber escape?” Brainwasher asks, his tone righteous and infuriating. I want to pull his boot off his feet and shove it where the sun doesn’t shine.

“I would rather have had you leave me out of it!” I spit.

Suddenly, his head snaps up. He touches a button on the side of his fancy high-tech goggles. His eyes grow wide in fear.

“There’s a bomb!” He exclaims. I turn to get out of there as fast as my feet can carry me, when his stupid voice is in my mind again.

Protect us.

And then I throw myself against a corner of the room. God, I can’t even close my eyes. I can’t cry or scream. It’s building up inside me, and I feel like I might explode.

Then the wall really explodes.

Fire runs across my body, scorching my clothes. Debris rains down. I can smell ash and burning plaster.

Then the deafening roar in my ear silences.

I slowly peel open my eyes.

I see that the police captain is dead. The robber is dead. The civilian who had been controlled along with me is dead.

Brainwasher is dead.

Half of the station is a smoking pit in the ground.

But I am alive.

I stand, shakily. I brush ash and black charcoal off my skin. I am naked and badly shaken. But I am alive.

And completely unharmed.

I have powers, I realize.

I start to laugh from the insanity of it. I’m grateful to be alive, and shocked by the strange turn of events.

I have powers.

I am like a man made of stone. Invincible.

I am superhuman.

I stand on the balcony of the building in the middle of the night.

I am silent and practically invisible, wearing a dark suit.

I’m not kidding myself. I’m not a superhero. I’m not a villain either. There are a few self-appointed villains, and they’re all wackjobs. I am something else.

The men in the room in front of me will certainly have guns, but that doesn’t worry me.

I break the window with my fist, and the room fills with shouts as I step in over the broken glass.

They pull out their pathetic little handguns, and open fire. The glass that hadn’t already broken shatters when they miss me, but some of the bullets strike my skin. I am unharmed, an invincible super being.

I grab the man closest to me and shove his head against the table, scattering pens and notes and graphs to the floor.

When the people in the room keep firing, I throw the man at a group who had backed into the corner. They topple like bowling pins.

I slam the remaining businessmen aside with my arm, and pull a little data chip out of my pocket. I slip it into the tablet lying on the table. I need to extract some information on it.

The tablet beeps, and a message displays on the screen.

Mission Succeeded.

That’s weird.

“Bomb?”A voice says calmly. I am certain they are not referring to a literal bomb, like the one that revealed my powers, but rather my code name. Cool, and short, as code names should be.

“What do you want?” I ask. A sleek, beautiful woman stands in the doorway.

“I want to hire you,” She says calmly.

“Can’t, not until this job’s complete,” I grin at her. I realize I’m wearing a mask, but I think she can tell.

“I hired you for this job, to see how you would perform,” She says. I stare blankly.

“Really? Well, how do I perform?” I ask, gesturing to the unconscious men around me.

“Well enough that we want to hire you for something serious,” She says.

“By all means,” I say, sitting on the table.

“We want you to wear a real bomb on your body, and to enter the superhero headquarters,” The woman says. I stare.

“Lady, I’m not blowing up a bunch of supers, not for any money that you got,” I say. I start to turn to leave, and then she says;

“Not even sixty million?”

I freeze.

“I’m listening,” I say, crossing my arms and turning around.

“It’s simple. We place several nano bombs into your suit, similar to the one set to go off in this room in ten minutes,” She says. I am shocked, but thankfully manage not to show it.

“You go into HQ, detonate the bombs, and no more superheroes,” She smiles, and I consider.

“Deal,” I say. She shakes hands with me, And I can smell her rose perfume, sweet and thorny. Then she walks out of the room.

I stay, to see how powerful of an explosion we’re talking about.

Hell of a blast.

I am standing among the greatest heroes alive.

In their shiny suits and billowing capes, with their bulging muscles and chiseled features.

I am disgusted. They think that they are superior to everyone else.

I am about to press the button hidden in my glove2 and end them all, when I pause.

If I do this, am I any better than Brainwasher? Am I really better than any of these people? Or am I as hypocritical as they all are?

Maybe I am.

Maybe I should leave now, without blowing up a bunch of superheroes. I can disable the bombs, and run away from the city. Maybe I can become a real hero, and show them how to be the best versions of themselves. Lead by example, or something like that.

I consider it.

Maybe then the world would really be a better place.

But then I see him.

Brainwasher’s brother.

Mindkeeper.

He’s holding a cup of coffee, and laughing with another super. He sees me seeing him, and heads on over.

“You tried to save my brother, right?” He says. I try to restrain the rage in my voice when I respond to him.

“I didn’t have a choice.”

He nods, looking sad.

“He was a good person at heart, I just think it was too much for him to be a hero. He wasn’t ready to die, ironically,” Mindkeeper admits.

I feel rage bubbling up inside me.

I could show them all I’m better, but they wouldn’t care. It wouldn’t do anything.

The only way to fight fire is with fire.

I press a button, and everyone around me dies.