Don't Call Me A Hero

Chapter 5

I woke to his alarm instead of my own, which would have been fine if it hadn’t been set to two hours before I intended to wake up. I hadn’t thought about this aspect of having a roommate. I groaned and twisted in my blanket, pulling it up over my head as he flicked on the light.

“Want a ride?” Owen asked me as I dug through the bag I had brought. The clothes that Sara had bought me were still in their bags on the floor but I was struggling with more than just my wardrobe.

“As I said last night,” I told him without looking over, “we aren’t doing that again.”

“Well, if you don’t hurry,” he complained, “we’re going to be late. What are you looking for anyway?”

“My contacts,” I grumbled. I remembered taking them out last night but where did I put them? I glanced over at an annoyed Owen before sighing, “you’re right. We’re going to be late. You can go without me?”

“No,” he shook his head and stepped forward, “let me help you.”

“It’s fine,” I sighed as I stood up. I reached into the top dresser drawer and pulled out a small brown case. I slid on my square glasses, my sister would call them ‘hipster’ glasses, and pulled on my shoes. I slid my wallet and my keys into my pocket. I paused for a moment before snatching my phone off my desk and heading toward the door. I paused and turned toward Owen, “ready?”

“I’ve been ready!” he said with a small smile as he followed me out the door. I rolled my eyes as we left the building. The air still held the warmth of summer and it was oddly refreshing to be out in the fresh air. The streets of the campus were lively even though there was still a week and a half until classes officially started. Most were headed where we were, which was the college hall in the center of campus. Luckily, our dorm was just down the road from it.

There was a throng of people entering and exiting the round building. We hopped into the slow moving line forward, bumping shoulders with other students eager to get extra credit. I lost Owen in the crowd and I scurried out of the line as soon as we entered into the large space. There were roughly one hundred students presenting. Some had cardboard boards, others had projectors, while a few simply had a laptop open at their tables.The sea of voices was almost deafening. It had been so long since I had been in an environment like this. Was it strange that I found it almost...comforting?

The exhibits were mundane and uninteresting as I suspected they always were. No one wanted to rock the boat any more than they had to. There were some on the old fashions of superheroes and their counterparts. Others talked about the science behind super abilities. There were several who decided it was smart to do a basic look at an individual superhero. I rolled my eyes as I walked past those eager students wanting to discuss their favorite superhero. The one that caught my eye the most was one on the lower district.

The student was discussing more than just the heroes. She was detailing the damage caused, damage that still remained unfixed, in that section of the city. There were interviews with people who lived in the area. People who had never broken a law in their lives but could barely afford rent there let alone anywhere else. Reformed villains also shared their accounts and she had even made a website where anyone could listen to the interviews instead of reading them. She was calling the city out on neglecting the part of the city that needed the most help. 

I could respect that. 

My eyes scanned the room, searching for anything I had missed. My breath caught in my throat as I read a bold title a few tables down. Almost subconsciously, I started moving toward it. No one was supposed to know about us. No one. The state had kept the information classified. Our parents didn’t even know the extent of what happened. 

Dr. Lutsfy’s Experiments: Where are they now?

I stood with my hands hanging stiffly by my sides, my hands clenched into tight fists. My eyes scanned over the pages glued to the board and I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. Speculation, theories, and essentially nonsense filled the space before me. I was about to leave when the creator, or who I assumed to be, stepped out from around the other side. She was short with her dark hair tied up in a tight bun. I knew she was trying to look professional but the business suit was slightly too big. She looked like a child playing dress up in her mother’s work clothes. At the sight of her, all my past anger dissipated. 

“Good morning,” the teenager spoke cheerfully, “any questions?”

“Just one,”  I said, holding up a finger before asking. I spoke to her as if I was speaking to a child, though I knew she couldn’t be too much younger than I was. Her oversized clothing and childlike face made it hard to take her seriously, “do you have any actual facts on here besides the doctor’s name?”

“Excuse me?” she asked, her head tilting to the side. I smiled slightly at the anger in her voice and waited a moment before continuing.

“Did you add in any actual facts besides the doctor’s name?” I asked, “because most, if not all, of this is speculation. Even the details you put into the actual experiment cannot be proven. There is nothing here that can actually be proven except for Dr. Lutsfy’s name.”

“And what makes you the expert?” she snapped back.

“The boy is right,” a low voice spoke up from behind us. I glanced back at an older man wearing an old fashioned tweed suit. He smiled as he stuck out his hand toward me. I shook it as he continued, “I’m Professor Geabble. I will be one of the judges for these presentations. Who might you two be?”

“Shelby,” the teenager said in a small voice.

“Alex,” I said, pulling my hand from his tight grip. 

“Alex,” the man repeated as he shook my hand. The girl glanced back and forth between us and the man stood there, staring at me for way too long. After an awkward silence, he finally spoke up, “thank you for pointing out the flaws in her presentation. I will definitely take that into account

I do as he said and he leads me away from the crowded space and up a spiral set of stairs. I slowed my pace as the voices drowned out as we reached the second level of the building. He paused and looked back with a raised eyebrow.

“Is there a problem?”

“I’m here for the presentations,” I stated. 

“As am I,” he waved his hand dismissively, “however, you are an interesting case, aren’t you?”

“Excuse me?” I asked as I followed him down a wide hallway. 

“Well,” he disappeared into a room. I debated following after him until he poked his head out from the doorway, “come on, I don’t bite. I just want to chat. See, I knew a shadow master was going to be staying with us but I didn’t know it was going to be a Blackwell. How is your father, by the way? Bet he still has quite the jail sentence.” 

“I wouldn’t know.”

“So, you’re not related to-”

“No, I am,” I shrugged, stepping into the room, “I just have never met him.”

“Ah,” he nodded from behind a desk. The large office was very plain. There were a few plaques on the wall and a small bookshelf behind him. The desk was perfectly organized and I couldn’t see a speck of dirt or dust anywhere. He gestured for me to sit across from him and I did as I was told, though, I had no idea why I was there with him.

“So, what do you want?” I asked him. 

“A professor can’t have a simple chat with one of his future students?” he asked innocently.

“No,” I said, “you want something. What is it?”

“Don’t like small talk, now do we?” he sighed, “I want to know your story.”

“Why?” I asked, my heart skipping a beat, “there’s been nothing exciting about my life.”

“Don’t play dumb,” he chuckled, “sure, nothing unusual happened in your life until you were fourteen, right?”

He knew.

How did he know?

“You were sent off to the Housing for Troubled Youth Center upstate with no disciplinary records on file,” he explained, “or any reported incident with your abilities. You spend four years there and graduate with two years worth of college classes under your belt. You’ve done well for yourself, Mr. Blackwell, but I’m just trying to understand how?”

“What do you mean?”

“How did you find yourself in the center?” he asked, “there is no sign of you being a troubled youth. If you’d look up anyone else there, I can guarantee you’ll find out why but you, sir, are a mystery.”

“Why do you care?” 

“I like to know my students,” the man said, leaning forward on his elbows, “especially when they are the son of the most notorious villain this city has ever faced.” 

“Unfortunately, for you,” I told him as I stood up, “I don’t have to tell you anything about my personal life.”

“Look,” he said while standing up, “I wasn’t meaning any disrespect-”

“I don’t care what you were meaning,” I turned away to leave, “I’m here to learn. I’m not here to discuss my father or the compound.” 

“Mr. Blackwell-” he called after me but didn’t wait to hear the rest of it. I hurried down the stairs and headed directly for the exit. My heart beat hard against my chest and I tried to calm my breathing as I passed through the crowd. The door stood as a beacon toward safety where I could get out of this crowd and away from anyone who thought they had a right to know my past. 

No, I didn’t want to tell him that I was tricked into a bad situation when I was fourteen. No, I did not want to tell him about the agony I went through for two weeks while being strapped to a metal table while figures I couldn’t distinguish poked and prodded me. No, I didn’t feel the need to explain that my father’s, and my mother’s, abilities only sparked then for me. I had no major disaster that caused me to be taken away. The state saw me as a potential threat if not properly trained and my mother couldn’t handle the horror I was put through. It was the perfect blend to send me away so I could gain control of my new found powers. 

Not that I really had any room to complain, though. Charlie was right. I had been relatively lucky in the power department. I could hide my abilities rather easily. Him and Maria couldn’t. I throw my weight against the exit door and hurry down the steps without glancing back. 

I stopped and took a deep breath, letting the slight breeze calm me. Why did I care so much if people knew what happened? What would it change? 

“Alex,” I spun toward the familiar voice and tilted my head. Amanda was dressed in the same clothes as she was at the funeral. Her makeup had spread down her face in dark lines as if she had been crying. Her arm was twisted in an unnatural shape and I stumbled toward her while pulling out my phone. 

“Holy s**t,” I muttered as I tried to grab her shoulder. My hands passed right through her, “Amanda? What happened? Where are you?”

“I don’t know,” she sobbed, tears trailing down the black marks made previously, “but you have to help me...please, Alex…”

“Amanda?” I asked when she paused, her head turning to look behind her.

“They’re back,” she said, “don’t call the police. They’ll know, okay? Just...find me okay? Arthur...he’s-”

And she was gone, faded into nothing.