Capítulo 6: Bite Me Then Fight Me
Obligatory Disclaimer : I do not own anything (except maybe OC characters) all characters, places, worlds, universes…etc mentioned here belong to their respective owners and/or companies.
This is purely a work of fiction. Not meant to offend or incite, but to entertain and (maybe) inspire.
*.*.*.*.*.
BITE ME THEN FIGHT ME
*.*.*.*.*
She wiped the bits of viscous seminal fluid that still clung to the side of lips and hair. I would offer to help but I'd rather not disturb her, she seemed to be enjoying it.
My superhuman status gave me protection from human diseases, but it also meant that if I had left my load in her there was a 99% chance of knocking her up and not knowing about it till somewhere down the line when the plot would decide to curve ball me with it. So no thank you.
I buckled my belt, straightened out my uniform and pulled my cap back on. I was barely spent, it was a nice release but I felt like I had opened the tap and I didn't know how to properly close it. Spending anymore time with her would make things more suspicious than they already were, I hardly believe she'd be able to take it based on how unbalanced she even stood.
She smirked at me as I walked past her, her number and name were now in my phone and her torn panty in my back pocket—a present to remember her by she said.
I snuck out back instead of going into the eatery again. I began moving the bags of trash for deniability should I be questioned as to my disappearance.
"I can't believe I just did that." I took a moment to analyze what'd just happened. I had no idea that playfully flirting with a married woman would get me bathroom sex, it was outrageous and yet it happened like something straight out of a teenager's fantasy.
No one would ever believe this happened if I told them, this was the type of shit you made up to impress boys at a sleepover.
True, there was a smile on my face, but I just didn't know what to make of it.
Post nut clarity.
"Grayson!" He called. I remained silent, pretending to not have heard. "Grayson!" His voice neared, the backdoor cracked open and there he was, staring at me as I dragged the bags into the trash can.
"Yeah?"
"Have you been out here all this time?"
"Yeah, I'm clearing the bags I piled up earlier." It's like he wanted to be angry that I wasn't inside, but he couldn't be because I was technically doing my job and a little bit more.
"Get it done and come back inside." He left, going back in.
"That's what she said." I whispered. Was it just me or is it raining bitches.
I tossed the last of the bags into the bin. Washed my hands and went back into the eatery. The mom—I forgot her name again— was now seated with her family. She had a satisfied look on her face, her daughter kept eyeing me and her husband was busy speaking to the now beaming woman. They nodded along and got up; the daughter left first followed by the father who'd apparently forgotten about my existence and my damn tip.
The mom waved me over and handed me cash for the bill. She then dug deeper into her handbag and dumped a hefty amount of money into my breast pocket. I wasn't too comfortable at her display but I still smiled and accepted it. "See you soon." She whispered, walking past me with a silent limp—that put a genuine smirk on my mug.
I cleared the table, deposited the bill and took the trays to the kitchen, bringing me right back to Angela.
"You look like you had fun."
"Oh I had the time of my life alright."
"The boss is coming back around, you better get going."
"Sigh you're such a bad girlfriend, at least gimme a kiss."
"Go away Mark." She chuckled, spraying me with water from the tap.
"I'm leaving and I'm never coming back."
"What of the baby, Mark?" She squeaked.
"Send him my kisses." I laughed.
I left the kitchen and went into the eatery. Someone I recognized was just at the entrance, the bully kid that looked a lot like my old friend.
He looked around, distressed, confused and afraid. "Help me!" He screamed in terror, scratching erratically at his chest. People were staring now. I approached; he'd managed to tear his shirt open and on his chest was a mechanical vest with a timer counting down from three. I ran through the glass, shattering it. I tried prying the vest off of him, but it wasn't a vest, his chest had been replaced with this mechanical substitution.
"Oh God please I don't wanna die!" he sobbed.
The timer reached one. The store was behind me and filled with people, the explosion would kill them. I pushed him away into the relatively empty road.
His eyes, filled with fear and dread were burned to the back of my eyelids—it conjured up images of a bullet riddled body, with eyes exactly like his.
"Please help me" he mouthed.
Zero.
—BOOOM!
The shockwave shattered his flesh and the fire engulfed what remained, turning his tissue and organs into ash. The explosion spread out, the blast rattled my ears and the flame only tickled my skin but did much more damage to my clothes, the storefront and parked cars behind me.
How could I forget just how fucked up this world was because of a bit of hedonism?
Thanks for the reminder.
Making sure that no one saw me, I broke into the atmosphere and tore towards the house. My shirt was cindered as was my trouser. At least my boxers remained relatively unharmed. My phone was cracked and burnt but the sim card might have survived and despite my attempts at distracting myself, I couldn't get rid of the unpleasant aroma of burnt meat.
I barged through my room's window, dropped my burnt items and found a ski mask to wear over my face. I then grabbed this body's, no, my new mom's phone. "Sorry mom, it's an emergency." I told her, looking up my physics teacher on the school website, I didn't find his home address there but I found his socials, it didn't take long to find what I needed from there. His son had committed suicide, there was much buzz surrounding him, filtering through the buzz made me obtain a valid address.
"Mark!" My new mom cried as I flew out the house barely clothed, leaving shifted furniture and broken utensils behind from the gust of my takeoff.
I remembered the guy from the comics. He'd been turning kids into living bombs to send a message. Something against those that caused his son to commit suicide, I do know that he is grieving father. But he has just created another grieving family. Someone out there has lost a son, a brother, and a friend. For such sedentary reasons as sending a fucking message.
Maybe I was mad that the one connection I could claim to have to my past life had just been brutally ripped away from my hands.
I broke through his front door, diving head first into his minimalist furnished home, finding him in the process of closing a metal cast door that led to a basement.
"That was fast." He said, no emotion in his voice. "I'm sure you would like to know why I--"
My fist went through his jaw with a wet crunch, bits of bone, flesh and teeth pitter-pattered and clattered against the floorboard. He was still alive as I hooked my fingers around his neck and carried him through his house's ceiling and into the open air.
I knew he had done the same procedure to himself, but the bomb on him had even more explosive yield and was set to explode upon his eventual interception.
Digging my hands deeper into his windpipe to strengthen my grip, I rotated to gather momentum and chucked him away into low earth orbit, the bomb went off not a moment later in a thunderous cloud splitting blast of pure, fiery destruction that lit the sky up with a hot orange hue.
Descending back into the house, I walked through the metal door to find various sedated teens who attended my school with metal vests freshly sewn into their chests.
I found a phone in the house, dialed the authorities and explained the situation as best as I could. A terror squad convened on my position within five minutes of the call—I was honestly impressed at their response time, even if it meant I was partially detained for information.
Omni man came through and vouched for me—he didn't even have to; they'd been able to correlate my story with that of the victims and eyewitnesses. I was possibly set to receive a medal for my brave and heroic deeds in actively preventing a devastating terror attack on American soil and rescuing people while doing so.
Rather than believe it to be some sort of political agenda to raise ratings, I was more inclined towards it being a genuine act of reward meant to facilitate and inspire heroism among people. This was my world to protect, as pretentious as that sounds, I had to accomplish it or die trying. Literally.
If I failed or messed up, this ever present weight over my soul would collapse and take my life with it. I didn't have the luxury of entertaining stupidity or failure. I had to keep swimming or drown.
"Mark, are you okay?"
"Yeah mom, I'm fine." I smiled at the worried woman, she accepted my answer but didn't look at ease with it.
"You've just saved your classmates and stopped what could've been a terrible terrorist attack. It's a lot to take in for a teen."
"Believe me mom, I'm fine. I'll probably just sleep it off."
"When you need to talk, I'll be here to listen okay. I know things have been strained lately, but I'll always be there to listen."
"I know mom, you know you're my favorite." That got her to smile and get off my case. I loved my parents in the past life, my mom especially. I probably couldn't love this woman to that extent but I'll try.
"Where's dad anyway?" I only asked to fill the silence with something.
"You know how it is with your dad," She began, maybe assuming I was disappointed at his absence "He's off somewhere fighting dragons or stopping an earthquake."
"Yep, that's dad alright." I faked a chuckle. Yep, the Guardians of the Globe are possibly dying right now.
I dug into my food, tasted the slightly burnt meat in it and barely stopped myself from emptying my guts on the table. I forced it back down with a glass of cold water, and went back to digging into the meat. If you're weak, you die.
If the Guardians were weak.
Good for them.
*.*.*.*.**.*.
Noona aye sayd send meh noodes!! That's Korean for whoo! What good news!
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