Page 3 of a Super Hero Story
Jun. 12th, 2005 07:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
unforth**For page 2 of this story, visit xaniquen's journal and read his stuff! he digs comments too!**
It had been years and years since he had lost control like that, he thought moodily. The Coordinator wanted an answer, but he wasn’t sure what he had to offer. “What do you want me to say, sir?” he said, unable to keep an edge of petulance out of his voice.
“Hey,” the Coordinator snapped sharply, “you have no one to blame for this but yourself. From what I can tell, you finally got your chance, and you totally blew it. Way to go. Not only that, but the mess that you caused enabled the Anarchist to gain total control of three city blocks, control that he maintains even now. Congratulations, you’ve caused massive riots and complete chaos in the heart of the financial district of the city. As far as we can tell, the entire team that we sent in to try and retake the area has been killed, for we haven’t heard from any of them since yesterday. At the rate you are going, they may make you the FBI’s most wanted, since they don’t need to waste the slot of Anarchist.” He paused, then added sardonically, “for whatever it is worth at this point, no one has seen or heard from Mr. Winthrop since that night. Way to go.”
In the corner of the room, the only electronic device they had put any where near him, an observation camera, caught fire in a hail of sparks.
“Thanks, I know you are pissed. We’ve covered for you repeatedly in the past, Technophobe, but you’re not leaving us much choice this time. Give us a reason not to incarcerate you. Without a good one, you’re going to be spending a long time in this room, surrounded by power dampeners and drugged up on tranquilizers.”
He paused and took a drink of water before continuing.
“Listen, Technophobe. You know that this isn’t what we want. But you promised. You swore on everything you held sacred that you wouldn’t lose control again, ever, after that last time. You assured us that you had everything under wraps. And now you won’t even tell us what set you off. Tell us he attacked you. Tell us he used some weird ass device to trigger your powers without your consent. Tell us he was about to blow up the building, and the only way to stop him was to do what you did. Tell us something, anything, or you will be stuck up shit creek, and there isn’t a paddle in sight.”
Silence stretched on for minutes after this comment, Alex fighting for his composure, the Coordinator sipping from his water glass from time to time.
“I’m not going to lie to you,” said Alex, quietly. “None of those things happened.” Why wouldn’t he just tell, he wondered to himself, how could he explain this, he asked, how could I have screwed this up this badly?
“Then what did happen?” his boss pressured him urgently. “We need to know. It may be the only way to stop him before more of the city falls to the civilians who he now has complete control over. Please, Alex.”
“He…” Alex paused, his throat dry. “May I have a drink of water?”
The Coordinator passed him the glass, and he took a sip before continuing. “I was observing Mr. Winthrop, as I had been every night, when he did something out of the ordinary for the first time in two weeks of surveillance. He turned on the light in his bedroom, he walked to the window, and he…” …he fucking used me, he wanted to say, but he knew that wasn’t right, he knew that he had let himself be used… “He looked sad, very sad, and he held a gun up to his head, and I just lost it. I couldn’t let the son of a bitch do that, after everything he’d done. No one should get off that easy, but that’s not quite right either. I don’t know. I just don’t know. I stopped him, I had to stop him, but I just couldn’t stop it after that. He was smiling at me. He knew that was going to happen. He knew I was there. I don’t know how he knew, but he must have. I must have given myself away.
“This is all my fault,” he finished, feeling worse than he had ever felt in his life.
It had been years and years since he had lost control like that, he thought moodily. The Coordinator wanted an answer, but he wasn’t sure what he had to offer. “What do you want me to say, sir?” he said, unable to keep an edge of petulance out of his voice.
“Hey,” the Coordinator snapped sharply, “you have no one to blame for this but yourself. From what I can tell, you finally got your chance, and you totally blew it. Way to go. Not only that, but the mess that you caused enabled the Anarchist to gain total control of three city blocks, control that he maintains even now. Congratulations, you’ve caused massive riots and complete chaos in the heart of the financial district of the city. As far as we can tell, the entire team that we sent in to try and retake the area has been killed, for we haven’t heard from any of them since yesterday. At the rate you are going, they may make you the FBI’s most wanted, since they don’t need to waste the slot of Anarchist.” He paused, then added sardonically, “for whatever it is worth at this point, no one has seen or heard from Mr. Winthrop since that night. Way to go.”
In the corner of the room, the only electronic device they had put any where near him, an observation camera, caught fire in a hail of sparks.
“Thanks, I know you are pissed. We’ve covered for you repeatedly in the past, Technophobe, but you’re not leaving us much choice this time. Give us a reason not to incarcerate you. Without a good one, you’re going to be spending a long time in this room, surrounded by power dampeners and drugged up on tranquilizers.”
He paused and took a drink of water before continuing.
“Listen, Technophobe. You know that this isn’t what we want. But you promised. You swore on everything you held sacred that you wouldn’t lose control again, ever, after that last time. You assured us that you had everything under wraps. And now you won’t even tell us what set you off. Tell us he attacked you. Tell us he used some weird ass device to trigger your powers without your consent. Tell us he was about to blow up the building, and the only way to stop him was to do what you did. Tell us something, anything, or you will be stuck up shit creek, and there isn’t a paddle in sight.”
Silence stretched on for minutes after this comment, Alex fighting for his composure, the Coordinator sipping from his water glass from time to time.
“I’m not going to lie to you,” said Alex, quietly. “None of those things happened.” Why wouldn’t he just tell, he wondered to himself, how could he explain this, he asked, how could I have screwed this up this badly?
“Then what did happen?” his boss pressured him urgently. “We need to know. It may be the only way to stop him before more of the city falls to the civilians who he now has complete control over. Please, Alex.”
“He…” Alex paused, his throat dry. “May I have a drink of water?”
The Coordinator passed him the glass, and he took a sip before continuing. “I was observing Mr. Winthrop, as I had been every night, when he did something out of the ordinary for the first time in two weeks of surveillance. He turned on the light in his bedroom, he walked to the window, and he…” …he fucking used me, he wanted to say, but he knew that wasn’t right, he knew that he had let himself be used… “He looked sad, very sad, and he held a gun up to his head, and I just lost it. I couldn’t let the son of a bitch do that, after everything he’d done. No one should get off that easy, but that’s not quite right either. I don’t know. I just don’t know. I stopped him, I had to stop him, but I just couldn’t stop it after that. He was smiling at me. He knew that was going to happen. He knew I was there. I don’t know how he knew, but he must have. I must have given myself away.
“This is all my fault,” he finished, feeling worse than he had ever felt in his life.
