May I Write of Heroes – #2: Trailer
Warning. The following story contains:
Foul language. Allusions to desired sex. An unfortunately likable asshole.
It didn’t get dark there. It got purple. Deep purple, so purple that everything else either looks too blue or too red depending on whether it’s after midnight or not. I walked up beside him just as he was starting to turn a little red. He was against the sky, standing in behind the railings of the sniper platform. He’d been there all day.
“Hey, sorry about… ya know.”
It took the kid a while to respond. He was still getting over the shock of the whole thing. New people, new job, new planet. Shit can be tough.
He wasn’t going to talk to me. I literally hammered him into the ground before he knew which was his ass was pointing.
I hate silences. I’m either talking, fucking, fighting, or turning music up as loud as it can go. I can’t even sleep to silence. So when everything got quiet, I couldn’t handle it.
“I’m not too good with apologies. That’s why I use this big hammer. If you make a mistake with something like this, you usually don’t have anything left to be sorry for.”
And then he walked away. The kid was a downer. Kind of a punk. But not different from me. Maybe a little smarter.
An explosion sent three different scout groups flocking to the lower east district of the zone. There were fliers and runners and drivers pushing and shoving, trying to be the first ones there to pick up the pieces. Scavengers. Little bitch scavengers.
“DON’T PICK UP WHAT YOU CAN’T KNOCK OFF!”
None of them heard me. I was a couple dozen feet up. This stupid balcony was great for defense. But shit for degrading the public.
“Would you be quiet for once? Krysta is finally asleep. If you wake her up, I swear to all things holy that I’m going to shove that hammer so far up your—“
“Alright, I get it. I’ll zip the lip.”
Joan’s little brat was always putting up a fuss. We allow it because without Joan, the team would’ve been no where. I had never put any importance on stuff like stealth and strategy before. In my old name, I was a bouncer. They called me trailer because of my strongman training. Plus, I’m about as big as a trailer, so it just worked. But she took us to a new level. I could take out levellers all day. But Joan had downed three leaders on her own. Just the shadows and her knives to help her out.
She came up, looking down the hall, watching what she could of Haywire as he made his way to his room.
“Is the kid still trying to get out of here?”
Joan was the mothering type. She was a mother, it was natural. But it got really annoying. She never let anyone figure things out for themselves. That’s what mother’s do though. That’s why fathers exist, to reel them in a little.
“He’ll get it sooner or later. Once we actually get into the shit, he’ll get it.”
She sat on the railing. God she was hot. Short, scrappy MILF wasn’t always my type, but she was the only chick on the team. Well, the only chick that was human. I didn’t want to have to figure out what goes where when things got hot and heavy with the odd hot alien. It sounds fun in theory, sure as hell looks fun on Star Trek… But the positions you’d have to get into. Eeesh.
But Joan was hot, plain and simple, and it wasn’t just my months-long dry spell. If it weren’t for her husband being twenty fucking feet away every goddamn minute, I might have attempted to do something about it. I knew she liked me. She had to. No chick hits you that hard, that often, without harboring some kind of sexual tension. Being her punching bag was as close to fucking as we were going to get.
Today, though, she was less obvious about it. She’d been quiet since Haywire showed up. She paid more attention outside of the base than inside. She sat there, looking over her shoulder, watching the sparks fly up from the dying battle a few hundred yards away.
“Trail, you ok with all of this?”
I didn’t have to ask what she meant. Mr. Fortyseven brought us all here for one reason. To win. He ran a faction. He had a goal.
“Fortyseven wants the best. We’re on his team, so we’re the best. I’m alright with that.”
She smirked. It’s a weird little twitch that isn’t quite a smile. I don’t like the word, but I like when she does it.
“I don’t know if that’s enough for me. What are we fighting for?”
I opened my mouth, but as usual, she started talking again.
“I know, we’re fighting for our group to gain power. We’re fighting to become better. But what then? What if we win and what if we keep the title and the power and the control? Is this all just going to come down to that?”
Her hair was blonder during the purple hours. When every other color shifted, her hair always stayed the same. Must be some kind of hot-chick magic. Same thing for her reasoning. I could never understand what she was saying when she got all ‘deep’. I didn’t know if that made me shallow, or just less complicated. Most of the time I really didn’t care.
“We’re exemplars. We’re not like everyone else. We have powers that get stronger the more we use them. Writers write, swimmers swim, artists… art…”
She laughed. Bingo. But then another pause, so I had to go on.
“We fight so we can get better at it. What the reason is, I don’t know. But I feel that rush each time we’re against another team. Every time they come at us, every time I swing that damn hammer. I like it. I think you do too.”
She nodded. I wasn’t the most intuitive person, but I knew when someone wasn’t convinced. You can tell in how they move. They’re sluggish. Even when they nod, their head hangs a little lower. I turned toward her room, I could see Krysta’s crib through the open door.
“Besides, what are you bitching about? You’ve got a family. You’ve got that little girl in there. Your job is to make sure she grows up and doesn’t fall for guys like me.”
She slid down, smiling. Even moves like that would make me bite my lip.
“Don’t worry about that, Trail. I can’t imagine anyone falling for a guy like you.”
With a wink and a turn, she walked away. It was a good day for her to not wear her cloak. Her suit clung to her and her walk did everything for a woman that it should.
God, I hated her.
God, I’m a horrible liar.
Posted on 05/02/2012, in Hypostatica, Short Stories and tagged character, characters, errant studios, fantasy, heroes, literature, science fiction, story, Story a day, superheroes, writing. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.