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Just Another Day in Brockton Bay

John struggled against the coarse ropes tied around his wrists. The duct tape across his mouth stifled his grunts. He was currently regretting every day he hadn’t spent in the gym trying to correct the stick figure nature had cursed him with. Brown hair matted across his sweat drenched face as leaned forward violently hoping this time he’d be able to force the wooden chair bolted to the floor to break apart; he failed. Slamming his body into the back of his chair, John vainly looked around once again. He was tied in the middle of a sparsely furnished basement. The shag carpet, which his dad had inherited from his grandmother, was cast upon the top of the old leather couch that the late family cat had torn up too much to leave in the living room. A skeletal wooden staircase leading up to the kitchen hung ominously against the wall in front of John. Ominously for John knew what would be coming down those stairs any time.

John had practically lived in this basement, smoking, laughing with friends, engaging in various other forms of debauchery. Just this morning, John had been planning on moving a TV down here. He’d thought of this basement as his sanctuary. Now it was looking like it’d be his grave. 

After one last surge forward failed to elicit so much as a groan from the solid wooden chair, John hung his head, defeated, he couldn’t think of what else to do. He was firmly attached to the chair, the chair was firmly bolted to the ground. If only he’d been braver, if only he’d been able to resist that monster’s voice-- shallow sobbing from behind John roused him from his self pity.

Behind him his twin sister, strapped to an identical chair rocked quietly back and forth. Joan hadn’t moved in the last two hours. She had convulsed violently after she heard the thumps upstairs then stopped moving. 

John released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding upon hearing his sister sob. That convulsion had worried him, he’d worried she was having a seizure or maybe a heart attack. It was an indescribable relief to learn she was still alive. Those thumps had worried John too, they had come at about the time their mom and dad were due home from dinner… no, don’t think about that now.

John leaned his head back and rubbed the crown of his head against the back of Joan’s. It was an awkward almost comedic attempt at comfort, but it seemed to have the desired effect. Her sobs quieted as Joan returned the gesture, stupid and awkward though it was, it comforted the two to know at least their twin was still alive, that they were still loved by someone. The door to the kitchen opened and whatever comfort the two had found in that silly gesture evaporated.

Down the stairs came a man that John hadn’t met before this morning. He was a weasel featured man, with thin white-framed glasses and a jaw that looked made of glass. He carried a single revolver clutched in clawed fingers. In his other hand, the man carried a metal brief case.

“Oh good, you’re awake!” The man began cheerily. His thin face broke into a crooked smile. John vainly struggled against his bonds one last time before the man sat the briefcase down in front of him.

“I’m terribly sorry about all this,” he didn’t sound sorry, “but I have to know. You see my colleagues say they’ve already done this experiment on twins before, but they won’t show me the data! Can you believe that?”

The man opened the briefcase and inside was a large metal syringe. The man set the revolver next to the case and John wished with all he was he could reach out and grab that gun, that he could press it against that man’s head and--

“Anyway, my curiosity compelled me to take this.” He held up the syringe, that ugly stainless steel thing. “You would not believe the trouble I had to go through to get my hands on this! Why I lost my dear colleague Dr. Steinbach just getting it into the rubbish!” The man rambled. “Oh, but you probably don’t care, so let me get to the part that concerns you! You see, I’m going to inject you with the contents of this syringe, and we’re going to find out if your twin has any reaction!”

John’s eyes widened as the man brought the needle towards his neck. He began to struggle. 

“Stay still please.” The man commanded, John’s body locked in place, he had no choice but to obey. Joan struggled behind him, muted pleas came to John’s ears, but there was nothing either of them could do. The man stuck that massive needle into John’s carotid artery, then without ceremony pressed on the plunger. John shivered as a cold liquid spread through his body. It was so cold John felt like he was dying. After what seemed a thousand years in a frozen lake, the man took the needle out of John’s neck looking very confused.

“Strange. I was under the impression that the trigger event would be instantaneous using this method. Hrm, do you feel any different? Nod if yes please.”

John didn’t do anything, his body felt compelled to stay still.

“Dammit.” The man hissed and straightened with a resounding pop. “I’ll try to induce a trigger then, too bad I already killed the parents.”

John’s heart sank at that casual admission. Even as he processed that his mom and dad, kind people that they were, were gone forever, their murderer began to walk behind him. John unleashed a torrent of curses and muffled screams as he felt the monster undo his sister’s bonds.

“Walk in front of your brother please.” In moments there was Joan standing in front of John. She was a little heavy set, though not obese. Her eyes were red and puffy and her usually carefully maintained makeup was a mess of black grease. Her long brown hair hung in tangles to her shoulders, she’d been sleeping in when the man broke into their house, she hadn’t known what was going on until the man ordered her into the basement with that sickly sweet ‘please.’

“Pick up the gun please.”

Joan bent down, and grabbed the revolver.

“Pull back the hammer please.”

With a solid click Joan pulled back the hammer.

“Put the gun to your temple please.”

Joan held the gun to her temple.

“Fire p--”

In that moment, John wanted more than anything to yank that gun out of his sister’s hand. He surged forward with such violence the rope drew blood from his wrists. The chair held firm. In that moment of overwhelming need, John broke.

In the infinite void of space, bright jewels shone against the light of distant stars flowing between two immeasurably massive creatures. The jewels were shards, billions upon billions of shards flowed from one being to another. An exchange of information. There would be millennium spent analyzing everything, but there was enough time for that.

The gun flew out of Joan’s hand with such force that it broke her finger. She didn’t flinch, she didn’t scream, but a tear came to her eye, pain mixed with relief. John’s irises completely disappeared as he gasped for air. He was in an indescribable amount of pain, and more, he was disoriented, his mind already forgetting the vision even as it processed the fact that he’d had one.

“HAH! That did it! Now let’s see if the young lady will trigger in response.” The man guffawed.

John barely registered the feeling of a knife at the back of his neck, it wasn’t that he was beyond fear, it was that he was already petrified. John could suddenly feel everything around him in absurd detail. He could feel every strand of that shag rug’s surface, just as keenly as he could feel his chest rise and fall. More importantly, he could feel the bastard behind him. He could feel those skeletal clutching the knife. He could feel that fuck’s smirk as he began to utter words to his sister. He could feel the rise of the murderer’s adam’s apple. 

Terror was replaced by absolute, blinding rage as John thrust everything he was against the murderer’s throat.

In John’s mind, a hand shot from the back of his head and throttled the weasel faced bastard. The man gurgled. John felt the man take a step back as he crushed the worm’s throat. “S-” the man sputtered, John increased the pressure, he couldn’t let him speak again!

“S-stop please!”

John stopped. The man coughed and sputtered behind him and John willed with all he was that he could seize the man’s throat again. There was a wall between John’s will and his action. With everything he had, John battered at the wall.

“You ignore the Manton effect! Well that makes you—Ghhk!” John crushed the wall and seized the man’s throat again, but it was weaker this time, still John pushed on, his hand, that invisible hand coming from his mind, grew thicker and stronger by the second, throttling his family’s tormentor.

The man grabbed John’s head with both hands and that wall between will and action was suddenly reinforced. John threw himself at the wall with all he was, the man threw everything he was into strengthening it.

“Grab the gun please!” The man screamed. Joan, still under his thrall, rushed over to the gun and picked it up with her left hand.

John watched helplessly, he pounded against the wall as hard as he could. Joan picked up the gun, its hammer still cocked.

“Shoot him please!” Joan raised the gun.

John closed his eyes.

BANG

The gun’s report cut John in half. He expected to feel pain, but he didn’t feel anything. Tentatively, John opened his eyes. Joan stood there, the gun smoking in her hand, aimed a little too high to hit John.

“I don’t understand.” The man whispered. He coughed. Warm liquid fell on John’s hair. The man let go of John’s head and then fell backwards with a soft thud. 

Throwing the gun away, Joan threw her arms around her brother sobbing. John lay his head against her shoulder, overwhelmed. He could still feel everything around him, every square inch of this basement, down to Joan’s broken finger.

With his mind’s hand, John undid his bonds and wrapped his arms around his sister. There were a lot of questions to ask, who the Hell was that psycho? How did Joan resist his command? What were the two of them going to do with mom and dad gone?

There were a lot of questions, but right now, the most important thing was that the two of them were still alive.

#
Three Weeks later:

John studied himself in the mirror. He’d started to put on a little bit of muscle though it wasn’t noticeable beneath his armor. Blue plates overlaid a black nano-weave skin suit strong enough to turn a knife. His faceplate was gray with glowing green eyes. He was going out on patrol today, the first day of his new life as a member of WARD.

Life had changed for John, but not as much as he’d feared. He had gotten a lot of sympathy from his classmates, which was difficult to deal with after the first hour of well wishes. Still, he had handled it better than Joan, who’d decided to take the rest of the year off. Not that John could blame her, but still, after what they went through, he didn’t want to just sit at home all day, in that same house his mom and dad had died in, without doing SOMETHING with the powers that had come out of that horrible ordeal. 

John had chosen to go by the name Crush, that got some stares from his new teammates, but he felt it fit. It was what he’d do to anyone victimizing others… what he’d do to ensure nothing like what happened to his sister would happen to anyone else.

He was really glad Joan hadn’t triggered.

#
Joan watched the man sobbing in front of her. She’d lost a lot of weight in the 3 weeks since her parents died, it was almost too easy to lose weight now that she could program herself to eat right and exercise. The man in front of her was just her latest edition to her black book. Not exactly a hookup book, though if she wanted… no, her network of blackmail and informants was too precious to risk on personal gratification, for now. 

“Just remember, if I come knocking....”

“I-I answer the fucking door.” He finished. ‘Truth’ chimed the voice in Joan’s head.

Joan smiled broadly and stood allowing herself to be led out the room by one of her hired goons, a massive black man with a shaved head. She was almost there. Almost to the point where she’d be untouchable and by extension, so would John.

In just a few weeks, nothing like that day would ever happen to them again.

#
In an undisclosed location:

“Dr. Please’s insubordination went as planned. Though the girl’s a damn blindspot, so we’re gonna have a Hell of a time keeping track of her.”

“Eventually she’ll come to us.”

“… she will?”

“She’s too smart not to, just remember, when she does, be friendly. She’s the only one that’ll be able to talk her brother off the cliff when THAT hits the fan, but if she’s pissed at us too… well.”

“Doesn’t end well?”

“Just a slightly worse end of the world, same as always.”

Pasted: Feb 28, 2023, 9:14:12 am
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