A distressed brown trailer sits amid the small gravel lot. A chain-link fence rattles with the wind. In the yellowed window a figure paces around a small, dim room. As he pulls the hood back from his dirtied grey jacket, Liam looks into the mirror at his short, ruffled, jet-black hair and, seemingly, the entire trailer creeks forward as he leans against the dingy sink. He lets out a broken laugh. “I know I’m going to blow this-- this whole thing. This, this power. It’s my weakness. Now I’ve got the government on me. And for what? Because I can move things with my mind? Is that all I am? All I’ve become? Is it really a power at all? Or is it a disease-- a dirty disease that’s gonna take me over. What does everyone want me to be? What am I supposed to be?” Using his powers, he fiercely threw the grubby cup of toothbrushes from the side of the sink to the floor. He looked down and kneeled. He picked up the small, pink Hello Kitty toothbrush from the floor. His voice shook, “I-I can save you… I promise.”
Several days had passed. Sitting on a lawn chair too large for her, a dark haired girl, maybe 7, sat, swinging and kicking her feet in the dirt below her. She held a piece of paper which she had folded into what appeared to be a little figure. She bent the arms and legs, animating the figure to life, creating her own hero. Around the fence came Liam, a large olive green backpack strapped on loosely. “What are you doing out here, Cora? I told you it’s not safe”, he jimmied the lock on the metal fence. “I don’t like it in there, Daddy. It smells,” she replied softly. He laid the bag on the ground and approached her. “I’ll bet it’s your stinky little socks!” he laughed as he quickly picked her up with both arms and swung her in a circle. Cora couldn’t stop giggling. He let her back down. “I’ve got something for you, sweetheart”, he leaned over the green bag and opened the zipper; shuffled through stacks of fresh green cash and the bottom pulled out a black smartphone. “Your very own iPhone,” he said as he gently handed her the phone. “Really?! How’d you get it?!” she questioned with excitement. “That’s my secret!” he winked at her. She ran inside with the phone. He looked back down at the cash. He hesitated, then zipped the bag closed and looked through the window at his daughter. *** Blue lights flash and sirens ring outside a beige building with a sign over the door. “Simpson Bank.” The front doors have been destroyed. The broken glass cracks beneath the tall silhouette. A face emerges into the middle of the of the small room into the beam of light cast through a hole blown through the ceiling. He kneels down and picks up a single white feather from the dirtied floor. He takes into the palm of his calloused hands and clenches it. “It’s him. He’s been here”, the corporal aggressively speaks into his earpiece. “Run a DNA type on this piece”, he mutters as he hands the feather to an agent and walks briskly past him. “Ye-Yes sir ,” the young agent replies. “We’re gonna find this guy. We’re gonna find him and rip him apart until he can’t move a thing, with his head or his hands.” He turns to the subordinate agent. “You know where we are?!” “Uh, Queens, Corporal Montague.” “Right down the block from where my kids sleep. And there’s a freaking hole in the ceiling. Someone has to stop him, and I’m not gonna wait around for clearances. Something’s gotta give.” *** “--a shocking crime has struck Queens as the Simpson Bank on the corner of 5th and Wilson robbed and--” click click click, down goes the volume. Facing the flat screen TV from the island in the kitchen, Mrs. Montague turns to her husband holding the remote. Her bony hands fold around her arms and wrap her fair skin. “I can’t hear that, you know?” she quipped. “You don’t need to hear all that garbage on the news. I’ve got it under control.” “You, Lawrence? Or the Bureau?” she questioned. He sighs, “Look. I just-- I need you to trust me. I need you to trust me that I am gonna keep you, us, safe. Every head in this house is gonna be just fine. We’re gonna get him. I promise.” She lets down her guard, and without a word, she embraces him. Heavy footsteps enter the room. “Dad, I picked up that capacitor, I think we can--”. “Not tonight, Shaun. After this whole bank situation I’ll be lucky to get an hour of sleep tonight.” “But Dad, we can have that drone running by tomorrow!” Shaun exclaims. “No, son. Maybe next week.” “Ever since you took that promotion you don’t have time for anyone but yourself!” he shouted. He gives his father a glare and stomps out of the room. Lawrence gets up in a fury, appalled by his son’s audacity. “You watch your mouth!”, he raises his finger in a point, but a soft reassuring hand is rested on his shoulder. His wife intervenes. “Let him go, Lawrence...”, they both sigh. His head hanging in defeat, the Corporal looks back up to his wife. “Trust me?”, she nods and rubs his back. *** Liam stood impatiently waiting for the 3:30 train to arrive. If I coulda’ just got that dang Honda to start, he thought. He quickly checked his silver watch. It read 3:30. His index finger tapped quickly against his leg within his pocket. He watched the long, metallic train come to a halt ahead of him. The small crowd around him came his direction to board the train.The doors slid open and the previous passengers spilled out. Liam was the first one on the train and sat down on the long bench seat. He looked to both of his sides and was settled to see that nobody had sat directly next to him. He leaned back and his earbuds effortlessly flew into his ears. He checked left. He checked right. Nobody had seen. He relaxed. From the other end of the train, well out of Liams’ sight, a rough man stood from his seat. His dark blue jacket read “Corporal Lawrence H. Montague” on the right breast and held the FBI seal on the shoulder. He wore a dirty baseball cap and brown work boots. The heavy boot pressed down on the metal floor as they made their way toward Liam. Liam saw the man approaching him in the corner of his eye, but did not move a muscle. The corporal sat down. Liam pulled only his left earbud out. “Can I, uh, help you with something?”, he stared at the man perplexed, not recognizing the patch on his shoulder. “I’m not the one that needs help,” the corporal muttered as he showed the 9mm inside his coat. Liam looked forward. “What do you want?” “You. In a cell. Where you can’t hurt or destroy….anyone.” Liam’s heart sank. “W-What do you me--”, Montague cut him off. “You’re a killer. I know what you are. The Bureau doesn’t believe me but me- I know. You’re unstable, you’re unsafe.” “I don’t want to hurt anybody!” Liam defended. “I don’t care what you want, I’m doing what everyone else needs!” Montague stood and drew his gun. “You’re under ar--”, he was thrown to the other side of the train. The glass covering the poster on the wall shattered. Passengers on the other end shrieked and stood in fear. Liam raised the corporal back up against the wall. Liam was shocked by the sheer force he had exerted. He dropped the corporal. Liam clenched his fists and felt the power surging inside of him. He suddenly had a natural sense to guide the energy with his hands. He pushed them straight at the door of the train car and with a split second he felt the rush of energy through his arms and a blast boomed forward, sending the metal doors flying in the wind. Liam looked quickly down at Montague, back up, propelled himself out of the doorway. Montague regained his balance and ran to the doorway. The wind of the train moving blew back his jacket as he looked but could not find the force that had just thrown him around like a toy. “Dang it!” he shouted. ***
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