Pit Episode 11 : End Of Act 1

I am greeted with a massive array of electronic equipment sitting on shelving twelve feet high, things ranging from radios to televisions all with an eclectic mix of wires, glowing tubes, humming crystals, brass gyroscopes , all seemingly putting of some kind of transmission, I catch a word or two, but between the static and the thousands of devices vying for my attention, I can’t make anything out. The noise isn’t deafening, but very, rich, due to the sheer amount of barely audible gibberish coming from the devices. 

“I stumbled upon something, years ago, and I didn’t know how big it was, for the longest time.

I placed a pocket radio into my “space” , that is what I call wherever it is the things I conceal go, and when it came back I noticed that every so often, no matter how nice the weather, I would get some odd transmission. Didn’t think anything of it, actually took the batteries out and just bought a new radio.

Then a week or so, the thing started playing kind of the same thing, heavy static with barely audible babble underneath, without the aid of actually being powered. 

I knew there was something going on, so I experimented. 

You could say I became obsessed, I turned in my 2 weeks notice, and devoted my time to figuring out what in the hell was happening. People called me crazy, but I knew that something was wrong, and I knew , as well, that my power is a Class BU, which means that it is of moderate use, but the kicker is , it also means it is unique. No one else, in the entire world had access to this, it was a discovery that only I could make. 

Over a couple decades, I started working with different pieces of equipment, different materials, ways to get a clearer signal, and all I have to say, is every time I did find something that even half worked, it made no fucking sense.” He motions to a device that looks like a skinned stereo system, with a spinning brass gyroscope balanced on a glowing green crystal. 

“ You tell me how a gyroscope gives me better data transmission, and I’ll give you my nobel prize.

I’ve sat in here longer than you would believe, gaining my information in drips and drabs, I want to make it clear, I don’t have this figured out yet, I am Thomas Edison trying to make a lightbulb with cotton right now, but I’ve managed to gain some kind of insight , I hope. 

First , one of the main premises you need to understand, is that reality , in and of itself, does not contain every imaginable universe. That premise in and of itself is flawed beyond belief, it is our way of trying to make a complex problem even more complex, so that we can throw up our hands in defeat. 

And think about it for a second, that could never work, because some things simply have no opposite to balance them out. Let’s say in one infinite variation, you have the power to destroy every universe imaginable, the urge to do it and the power to do it instantly. All well and good, but something needs to balance that out, because as you can see the universes are still here. But the polar opposite of that, is either not having the ability to destroy any universes at all, or the ability and want to save every universe. 

But with option A, that doesn’t balance. And with option B, you would have to know about the person who could destroy the universes, and be able to impact them enough to stop it. There is simply no way to balance A with B, in so many situations. 

From everything I have seen, it is more ordered than that. 

There are 9, maybe ten corners of reality, each with their own universe and each with their own rules. Sometimes these rules are just a sliding scale , sometimes they are unique to the world. 

This is a simple analogy, but I don’t have the decades it would take to get you to review everything I have. 

I have found the best way to visualize them is to number them, and think of them all as stops along one road. 

In the 1^st corner, the rules are set, there is absolutely no breaking them, people have an absolute maximum for everything, and everything in the universe follows this logic. No one can fly without a contrivance to do so, no one can stop a bullet with their bare hands, everything is final, everything is real, personally , this is my favorite corner. When something as simple as a virus can wipe out most of a country, or a short asshole with a stupid mustache can nearly annihilate a race, life is much more interesting, to me at least. People are closer to their animal instincts, people are willing to take one for the team, or to set aside morality for the greater good, when your biggest enemy is random events, you have to be willing to adapt.

Let’s compare that with our corner, the 9^th. It is almost the total opposite, people here are frequently born with abilities that could change the course of history in the 1^st,  not to mention the warehouses full of items, weapons, talismans, that defy any known laws of physics. But we adapt as well, we have accepted that we will never be able to scientifically dissect everything here, and it is more important to understand how to use these things, than to attempt to put them under a microscope.

And in between, there are all kinds of steps leading from 1 to 9. I may be making it sound like I know more than I do, though. I have never gained much of use out of any of the corners, besides the first, fourth and, of course, the ninth. For some reason, they are the easiest to tune in to. “ He looks to me with a look that says ‘are you buying this?’ , but tells ‘I’m telling what I believe to be the truth. 

“Keep in mind, I am really trying to make this easy to understand, and in doing so am missing out on much of the scientific minutia. But it is more important you grasp the basics right now, the book explains in much more detail.” 

“What is my god damn part in this?” I suddenly scream. The look he fixes me with is one of exasperation and anger.

“Your to be a conduit for the differing thought webs and physical permutations of several facets of reality, leading ultimately to a mitigation of a quantum X-factor,  that could influence the state of unistasis of all corners of reality. Oh, you didn’t understand that? Didn’t think so, can I finish my explanation?” I am both annoyed and humbled by the scientific jargon. 

“ Anyway, as if this wasn’t mind blowing enough, there were reports of, things. We deal with a lot of weird crap, from weather controlling psychos to an alien invasion, but they have all been things we can deal with, not that , that is saying much, with the selection of talent we have, most things are a walk in the park. 

But these things , they were different. “ He looks to me for a moment

“Those things in the pit.” I say , and get a nod in response.

“Yes, and I don’t mind telling you it took me years , and effort beyond mentioning to get them. Let alone to get them to be in the state they were when you found them. 

I call them Multiples, or M’s for short. And the M’s are creatures that pretty much just shit all over everything we know. 

One major factor of these corner’s of reality is that things don’t go from point A to point B without severe repercussions. A tennisball going from 1 to 5 has the potential to set off an event that could wipe out  an entire city.

But a tennisball doesn’t have a mind, so very rarely does this come up. 

Ever wonder why people that go through a lot of shit tend to wander down the path of insanity? Probably not, seeing as you have the memories of a goldfish, but it is a premise that we are still trying to discover, what possible evolutionary advantage could come from going batshit crazy when things get too thick?

Well, people have just been looking in all the wrong places. 

When you put a person through enough shit, their very being tries to find a way to get them out of there. And it does so by reaching out to the other corners, trying to get some kind of knowledge, or skill from the other version’s of yourself, to get you out of this situation. The problem is, this taxes the living hell out of your mind, and often leads to imbalances and deformities that rapidly turn you into a gibbering psychotic mass.” 

“So they were crazy?” I say, sarcasm and disbelief clear in my tone. 

“Yes, but your jumping the gun.

For millions of years, this is the way it has been, the closest anyone has came to any of the other corners is turning into a street preacher after seeing their parents murdered. But recently, there has been a mutation, or an evolution in this process. Something that is trying now, not only to bring a bit of mental energy from one place to the next, but to actually take the physical from one place to the next. 

Think of a small child that has just learned how to read, he is going to make all kinds of mistakes with any kind of written instructions, now get this same kid to bake a cake, no matter how well written your instructions are, this is going to tend to end up with flames, smoke, and a burned down kitchen. 

From a scientific standpoint, what is happening is 2 particles are trying to occupy the same space, 2 living particles, but two particles that are essentially, in all ways that matter, the same. And this is where things really start to get interesting. 

Your first stage of the M life cycle is the insanity, something happens, and suddenly you find a new voice in your head. But this new voice isn’t even a voice, it is more like a recording. You see the person, this , other you, doesn’t get a nice message asking for information, your being, or soul, or whatever you want to call it, just grabs at the first snip of information that seems appropriate.”

I nod, this is something that I am rather familiar with, but it gives me a sinking feeling. 

“And assuming no one ever tries to off the M, or it doesn’t go through a certain amount of physical trauma, no one would ever notice the difference between them and your average insane person. 

But try killing one, you’ve seen it, it doesn’t go well, does it?

What happens is, now that the connection is made, this new mutation, the one that wants to try with the physical , what it has been doing with the mental, with no success,  kicks in. 

It is only a single particle, no bigger than your average atom, the person in corner 1, or 2, or 3, whatever, doesn’t even notice the difference. But when it is brought over, suddenly the physiology of a being changes. 

With every blow that should have killed it, another corner is added. What this translates to, as you have seen is that every time you kill them, they come back, their bodies start working like a drunk construction team, constructing whatever is the quickest solution to the latest problem. This also leads to the creature becoming more and more insane, as new minds are tossed into the mix.

We’ve been over how to kill them, thankfully, there is only so much this biological anomaly can repair. “

It’s a lot to take in, but after trying to figure out the world in a supernaturally drunken state, I am keeping up fairly well. 

“So, it doesn’t seem this happens much, and it seems we are lousy with people who can stop them at least as good as me, so why was this all necessary?”  I say, starting to piece together the world I live in, but not my part in it. 

“Both of those statements are wrong on some level. First, your right, this doesn’t happen much now, in fact, there have been less than 30 cases reported , but , trust me when I say this, they are going to be coming, and they are going to be coming en masse.

One of the worst things is that, to get a person like you, or me, or sharps , in this situation, is almost impossible, we can deal with a lot more, and as such, it takes a hell of a lot more to phase us. But what that also means, is that normal folk, those folk we have based our rules of engagement around since the dawn of time, are the ones who are going to be turning. 

Which brings us to the reason your second statement is wrong. 

Thoughts, ideals, they are all part of the rules of these corners. Maybe not as set in stone as gravity, or the weak force, but they are there none the less, through millions of years, everyone in our corner who is not solely interested in death and destruction, has placed the safety of the normal folk above everything else. And even those who don’t usually realize that their brand of thinking only works in small doses. 

Long story  short, the actions that are going to need to be taken, which essentially amount to killing millions, if not billions of innocent people, are not something it is possible for anyone here to convince folks of. 

And I mean this from a very esoteric standpoint, the power an idea has is directly proportional to how much that idea fits in the corner it is in.  Someone like me, trying to tell someone that they need to round up folks they think they may be able to cure , just isn’t going to work. I don’t have that mojo behind the idea, there is essentially something missing. It is the same reason why all of our villians that have tried to go too far, are stopped before they even begin. No matter how slavish, trying to convince people, here, to do certain things, if your only using the toolkit we have, is damn near impossible. Read it for yourself, look at how all of the major villians that have had a chance to destroy it all have been betrayed by someone close to them. Every single fucking one, that is no coincidence , that is the apple falling on newton’s head, with the exception of the fact that everyone is too stupid to know why it happens. They just chalk it up to good luck and move on. 

And now, we get to you, Dark. 

Your entire ordeal was designed to give you rapid fire trauma, inducing what I like to call Parareality, the connection to another corner of reality. But in a controlled way, bit by bit, to try and ease your brain into it.

It took a long time, and dozens of failures, I was beginning to think that no one could stand up to the mental trauma, and try another route. But you, you were the guy for the job. For my money , it was the fact that you have so many warring parts of your personality to begin with, your brain was a seasoned vet in the war against insanity. 

That wasn’t it’s only purpose, it gave you a baptism by fire in having to make terrible decisions, it showed you first hand the horror of the M’s, it taught you to fight past your biggest flaws, which in my opinion was your lack of grasp on reality, in short it made you the perfect guy for this job. 

You have that connection to the other corners, 1, and 4, in case your wondering, but you have a real connection, it’s probably not the most useful right now, but as time goes on you will rely on it like you rely on your hearing, smell and sight. And more than that, between your experience, and the run off from the other worlds, you don’t think like we do, and more than that, your ideas have that power behind them, that indescribable trait of being able to grow and evolve in people’s minds. “ he looks solemn waiting or my reply. 

“What if I don’t want to be part of this? What if I am perfectly happy to sit here on my ass,  regardless of being your prize creation, or whatever, and watch the fireworks?” I say, I try to keep my tone sounding as if I could give a shit less. 

“Are you? If so, then I have made some serious errors in the design of the pit, and not to sound too cocky about it, but I don’t believe I have.” His tone would be smug if he didn’t seem to need my help desperately. 

“No, you dick head. I am not, actually I am pretty much bursting at the seams to go out there and kick some ass. But that was all part of the plan, wasn’t it? Assuming I didn’t end up thrown in a fucking blender, or starved to death, me wanting to do this, was the outcome, wasn’t it?” I accuse

“Yeah, to put it as bluntly as possible, yes. Don’t get me wrong , Dark, I know what I am doing is pissing right in the face of so many morals, it’s dehydrated, but it is what needs to be done. And that is our whole issue, nature, fuck, reality itself seems to be dead set against us doing what needs to be done.” It is half apology, half fuck-you, but I accept it. 

Pockets starts to say something else, but suddenly there is an earth shaking tremor. His eyes go shocked and exasperated all at the same time, and he utters a single word, “Fuck”.

Just about as he does this, the cacophony starts to raise, explosions, sizzling noises and engines getting ever closer start to drown out the silence that had engulfed the island. 

“What the hell is going on?” I scream.

“Something I thought was going to take a lot longer to happen.” He says both loudly and morosely. “I wanted more time, more time to train you, to get you up to speed, but that isn’t going to happen, Dark. “

Pockets starts to rummage through drawers, both obvious and secret, and hands me a small square contraption. 

“We don’t have any fuckin’ time here, go South, and when you see a part of the lake that looks odd, run, and run fast, I don’t know how long it’s going to be before they manage to knock enough of my generators down to disable my escape plan, but if they do before you get there, it is going to be a long gods be damned swim for you. “ he says this as he hits a wall three times, and a perfectly hidden cabinet opens, from this he draws a long wide device that I can only assume is some kind of weapon. About 5 feet long with a black grip and a steel barrel, it emits a high whine as he twists the grip, a light on the side of the grip flips from red to green and he shoulders the weapon. 

“How fast can you run?” I say, half knowing what the answer is going to be.

“ I’m not running, my part in this, as of now is over. The best I can do is try and hold off these assholes long enough for you to make an escape. I’m not a mad scientist, I’m not Mixture, nor Dr. Kleen, I don’t think everyone but me is expendable. Fuck, I wish I had more time to get you  ready, but I’m just as happy to die doing my part. The world needs you dark, don’t forget that, no matter how dark the path, and no matter how wrong it all seems, never fucking forget that. “

He fixes me with a stare, and I know what is going on in his mind. He is weighing how much of a chance there is that I am actually going to go through with this, but also, he knows that there is nothing he can do to increase this chance, at least not any more. 

“South?” I say simply.

“Yeah, you’ll know it when you see it, and those small minded pricks won’t be able to follow. Well, they won’t be able to without some well prepared aircraft, but I am guessing they will be using those to storm the island. I have a nice little tinkertoy army myself here, for just this occasion. “ he says smiling, “Adios  , Dark.” He says as he strides calmly out the front door. 

My exit is much less dignified, I kick down the back door and orient myself, already in a full run. As I figure out which direction is south, I see a battle of epic proportions that almost stuns me into a stupor. 

Ground troops fitted in green armor fire upon haphazard looking yet deadly machines, others, I am guessing folks more like myself, zip through the air dressed in garb that I find laughable and frightening at the same time. Capes, masks, emblems flit through the sky like fireflies, launching blasts of cold, heat, or just smashing the homemade robots with bare fists. Others , on the ground seem to have no trouble fighting through swarms of the robots Pockets had made, suddenly I feel very small. At just one glance, there is at least a half dozen guys throwing blows that could knock my ass out. 

At first I think the giant machine, 30 feet tall, quadruped,  army green, and studded with various guns, barrels and other devices of destruction is one of Pocket’s army. But as my fleeing takes me closer, I realize it is commanding a battalion of the gents in green armor. My heart sinks as I realize this is the main obstacle in my path. 

There is no way to sneak, no diversion to cause, I either go straight through, or I lay down where I am and die. 

I growl and begin to charge ahead, and suddenly I feel a tap on my shoulder. Keeping pace with me, while looking bored with it, is a man in a black full body costume with yellow piping. The mask is almost insect like with large, shining glass like covers for the eyes, and a small slit for a mouth, on the front is an emblem , a speed limit sign, with the infinity symbol as an amount. 

Cute. 

“They are always sending us reinforcements and not telling us who the hell it is. Fucking EJA, eh man?” this costumed fool says to me. “ Listen, not much goin on over there, and I think Gattling has it covered. Want to come with me to the…” he doesn’t finish his sentence as I toss out my chitin covered arm and come to a dead stop. A proper clothesline probably would have killed the guy, but I aim lower, leaving him on the ground with a few broken ribs, he coughs up some blood, spraying in odd arcs from the tiny mouth-slit, and I can only assume that he is confused under the mask. 

I start running again , and guess that while the battalion in front of me may have seen what had happened , they would not understand the particulars of the situation. I decide to use the confusion to my advantage. 

I try to pick out anyone other than the mechanized monstrosity at the back of the formation, that is a leader. And I notice, that a few of the troops are wearing their green, angled , tube sporting armor, in addition to some large red insignia. I hope my guess is right and I feign exhaustion , standing in front of one of these soldiers. He lowers his weapon, and his voice is artificially loud. 

“What the hell happened back there?” he says, anger barely disguised. 

“Motherfucker, said something about how we were on the wrong side in this, then went to pull out a grenade, I think he was going to pull some Jihad shit, or something.” I lie, panting, and fairly unconvincingly. 

“What the hell did he pull out? And what the fuck is a Jihad?” suspicion starts to creep into his voice and he begins to raise his weapon in my direction.

“Name, and EJA I.D. sir.” He says coldly. I have just enough time to try and formulate some kind of lie, as I hear a voice, as if from a hundred concert speakers scream in my direction. 

“You’re alive?” I hear , in a voice that has more rage than anything I have heard come from my own mouth. And just as I process this information bright lines of searing heat erupt from the quadruped machine in my direction. They are slightly wide on either side, sending troops sailing through the air as they churn up pieces of turf, but hot enough that a pouring sweat suddenly breaks out on my body.

I see the troops, dazed, some with broken legs, some with shattered helmets, but generally looking allright, my guess is , that I wouldn’t be so lucky, those suits seemed designed with taking just that kind of damage in mind. 

No way but forward, I run straight ahead, in the confusion I feel a few arms reach out to try and arrest my progress, but they are quickly swatted away or torn from the sockets. To his credit, the guy in the machine doesn’t fire into the mass of troops, but the second I get a few feet away, a barrage of tiny missiles begin to head my way. 

I coil my legs and jump, putting every bit of effort I have into the leap, but honestly not exactly knowing the extent of my acrobatic ability. I launch myself, well above the ten foot wall of missiles coming toward me, to almost the height of the machine itself. And that is when I realize, there isn’t a guy controlling the machine, this machine is a person, or at least, part of a person. 

His body sticks from the top in a hideous , yet clean looking amalgam of flesh and steel. His arms seem to end at the elbow, being replaced with large tubes running into the machine , by what would be his waist, should his entire bottom half not be missing, or inside of the machine. The man himself looks battered, and scared, one eye gone, and the other having a piece of clear plastic, or maybe glass in front of it. His head has random straggles of hair, and for the brief moment I see his face, the hatred, and shock is clear. 

I hit the ground , and realize landing is not as easy as jumping. I sink 6 inches in, and in the few seconds it takes me to yank my feet free, I see several smaller barrels point in my direction. I hear a mechanical winding up noise, and suddenly the ground around my starts to churn and blow apart, as thousands of rounds of ammunition hit it. 

I am zig sagging, jumping, and hitting the ground rolling trying to avoid the fire. But with every tiny mistake on my part, the bulk of the fire gets that much closer. I try to close the last 20 or so feet between me and this thing, and feel bullets begin to graze off of my arms, close enough to draw long deep lines of blood. One hits me in the thigh, but the explosive pain does nothing to stop my advance.

Once I am within ten feat, I put all my energy into another leap, my damage leg sends me into an odd looping spiral, but I manage to , with as much luck as skill, grab my chitinous claw of a hand onto the bulk of this mechanical warrior. 

This is about the point I realize that it doesn’t offer much extra in the way of strength. And in fact, as I try to pull myself up, realize that the armor encasing it, is actually preventing me from getting a proper angle to pull myself up. The claws find a bit of purchase in the steel though, and as the entire structure starts to try and buck me off, I manage to claw myself on top of the main platform. The body twists immediately in my direction and fixes me with a hate filled glare. 

“I thought you were dead, you are going to fucking wish you were dead , you broken headed fucker.” As he says this I feel myself being yanked upward, two thick steel tendrils wrapped around my legs. I manage to tear a chunk of the steel plate off as this happens, but I doubt it is anything he will be missing. 

He suspends me above his head, the two tendrils yanking my legs in opposite directions. 

“This is going to be a lot of paperwork, maybe even a suspension, but god damn you, I am going to crack you like a fuckin’ wishbone. Do you see what you did to me? This is what I had to go through just to get back on the front lines!” he screams as the tendrils yank quite hard, causing my legs and crotch to burst into an intense pain that makes me think a wheelchair may be in my near future.

I am inches out of reach of being able to attack him, and this makes him giddy. 

“Not so fun when you’re the one at a disadvantage is it dickface?” he taunts snapping the tendrils out again, my guess is that with a couple more of these my chances of running away, or hell even walking, will be somewhere between slim and nil. 

But I notice a pattern, he likes to talk, and he likes to punctuate his sentences with trying to split me in half. I stay quiet, knowing he is waiting for something, a plea for mercy, a ‘fuck you’ anything. And when he doesn’t get it, he begins to rant. 

“What, no insane poetry? No fucking mumbling to your little friend? Come on, you have to have something up that disgusting sleeve of yours.” He grins and I see the tendrils go slack for a second, this is my chance. 

I clench my abdominal muscles, sending my torso up, just before that painful snap can begin, I grab the tendril on my right with both hands, and just as it goes taught, I yank with all my strength. With nothing to absorb the extra force, the tendril snaps, and, off balance I find myself body slamming the flesh part of this newest challenge. 

The impact sets the entire machine swaying, and in the confusion, the second tendril slips off of my foot. I ride the wild, bucking contraption, as I get a solid grip on the man with my normal hand. As I guessed the tendril whips in again, but this time I am ready, with a fluid spattering change, my chitin covered appendage snaps into the tube again, and as the tendril comes at me it finds itself caught by the cavernous maw, and held firm. I pull in one energetic burst, and with a rain of metal and sparks, the tendril is yanked free of its housing, and spit aside.

I notice guns of all forms trying to track me, but there is no shot they can take that won’t hit the soft vulnerable part I now have in an odd form of half nelson.

He tries to headbutt me, bite, claw, but to no avail. The machine is frightening, the man, is pathetic.

“ I have no idea what I did to you to piss you off, but that doesn’t matter, all that matters is if you want to live, or you want to die.” I whisper in his ear. 

He says nothing for a moment so I continue. 

“If you want to live, I need you to unload as much shit as possible to the north, right where that big fucking group of your guys are coming toward me. I need some breathing room. If you want to die, then take more than 4 seconds to do that. “

As I say this I feel a nice endorphin rush course through my veins, this combat, this life or death struggle, is something I fucking love, and I am just starting to truly realize that. 

My hand, now snapped back to a more recognizable hand shaped mass of points and muscle, starts to tap on his chest, one, two, by the third he turns around, and unleashes a blinding array of searing blasts of energy, that turns a rather good , solid formation of soldiers, into a scattered, barely advancing mass. 

“ You fuckin coward.” I say with a laugh, as my claw starts to slowly inch its way toward his face. 

“You said I’d live.” He starts to say, worried, “ You don’t fucking lie, I know that.” His breathing starts to become more rapid, as i whisper “ You’ll live, but I don’t want you fighting again. The last thing you’ll ever see, is the tip of my claw.” And with this I pierce the glass and his remaining eye, and tear downward. Not enough to kill him but enough to blind him, and leave one hell of a nice wound. He screams, and starts to lose all control of the mechanical contraption , for good measure I throw a solid punch to the back of his head, and as he loses consciousness, some kind of auto pilot takes over, gently lowing the mechanical structure to the ground, I hop off and begin my mad dash to what I hope is a functioning bridge. 

My guess is that the rest of the big guns are still fighting off whatever surprises Pockets had in place, but I notice quite a few troops riding dangerous , armed four wheeled vehicles are starting to catch up to me. They might not be able to stop me, but certainly they could hassle me until back up arrives.

I push myself to the limit, getting a few searing hits from much smaller energy firing weapons in the process. And as I start to come upon a rather disgusting and disused beach, I see a small shimmer on the water. Maybe just a trick of the light, maybe exactly what I am looking for, but there is no time to experiment, so I dash for it. 

I , in all honesty , expect to hit water, to realize I am fucked and to have a watery struggle to the death with something, but as my foot hits the edge , it finds solid purchase. And more than that, as I run, I realize that somehow, my speed has drastically increased. I am covering 5 times more ground than I was, and now the vehicles are starting to get to the edge of the water. 

It is about this point where I ask myself , ‘What is stopping them from just following me?’ and as the first half dozen hit the bridge, and keep right on going, I start to think that maybe pockets wasn’t as smart as he thought he was. 

But they don’t seem to be going any faster, if anything they seem like they are trying to fight their way through quicksand, the vehicles going , at barely a fast jog, while I rapidly outdistance them. At about this time, the bridge starts to shake, and pulse, I can see the shoreline only a few seconds away, and in the far distance, I can still make out the forms of my pursuers …

The explosion is like none I have seen, ( not that , that is saying much.) a bright flash of white light starts at their end of the bridge and starts coming toward me like a freight train, while I can’t make out specifics, I can see the tiny pieces of the pursuing party raining down , on the other end of the bridge, and I redouble my efforts to escape, trying to outrun the blast. 

But this is an explosion we are talking about here, or at least damn close to one. And as I get within the last 50 feet of the shoreline,  it hits me. 

I feel myself rise through the air, and assume the lack of pain is shock, but as I open my eyes, I realize that I am actually fine, not so much as a piece of my  tattered clothing is burned. Sure I am nearly 200 feet in the air now, careening toward the city, but at least the explosion didn’t kill me. In fact, as I survey myself , I notice I am glowing, with the same kind of white light that made the explosion. 

This does nothing to curb my anxiety about flying a few hundred miles an hour into a skyscraper, which is exactly what ends up happening. 

The hit though, doesn’t phase me, I don’t even feel it, but now that the momentum is played out ( and a rather large crater is in the side of the building.) I find myself falling into a dark alley, I smash into three fire escapes. The first , I don’t feel, the second causes a high pitched ‘Ping’ sound, and in a white flash , I am no longer glowing, the third, well it felt exactly like hitting a fire escape hard enough to dislodge it and send it tumbling down with me. 

I don’t know how long I was knocked out for, but when I came to, I stumbled my way to the end of the alley, to view the city that It was my job  to save. The city that was now mine. 

And all I could think, was how much I was going to  love doing my job.