V: Vic and Matt Series

The V in Valor-6

Vic worked an eight hour shift with a thirty minute break around late afternoon for lunch. But he usually stopped somewhere downtown for a bite to eat before he got to the bus garage. This morning it was a bit disconcerting—and more than a little fun, if he were honest—to wave a hand across the small end table by the front door to his apartment and watch his car keys jump eagerly into his palm. A gesture over his shoulder closed the door behind him, locking it for good measure as the keys floated a few inches nearby. On his way downstairs, the door to his building opened, waiting for him. Hinges contained metal, as did door knobs and locks. This power might not be so bad after all.

At the curb, his car jumped like an eager puppy when he walked around it, heading for the driver’s side. He unlocked the door without using the key, and probably could’ve started the engine the same way, but he wasn’t quite sure the mechanics of it all and settled for guiding the keys into the ignition and commanding them to turn with a flick of his wrist. Beneath him, the car roared to life.

Unfortunately, that was the limit of his ability. The steering wheel was plastic, as was the cover on the gear shaft. Putting the car into first, Vic edged away from the curb, his mind already drifting to food. After the fiasco in the bathroom, he was running a little late. Not a sit-down restaurant, then, and nowhere with slow service. At quarter to noon on a weekday, however, that eliminated most of the busy little delis and eateries downtown getting ready for the lunchtime rush.

Avoiding the interstate, Vic took a more circuitous route as he appraised his options. No burger joints, and definitely nothing that was part of a chain. He wanted to fill up, not bulk up. At the corner of Boulevard and Leigh Street, he slowed as he drove by a small barbecue stand. Now that might work. A large bun filled with pulled pork, dripping with barbecue sauce and homemade cole slaw…

Wait. Vic noticed a vendor cart farther down Leigh and turned in the middle of the intersection. A couple construction workers queued up at the cart, which was always a sign of good eats. Vic parked across the street, in front of the battered husk of an old warehouse whose concrete block walls appeared to be held up with nothing but scaffolding and a prayer. Huge yellow excavators and backhoes sat around the structure like discarded children’s toys. It must’ve been lunch time for the crew—no one lingered on the scaffolding, and there was an aura of neglect about the site. A smaller building farther back on the lot hunched by the chain link fence, in worse shape than the main building. As Vic climbed out of his car, he saw a construction sign hanging on the fence that enclosed the site. MOVIELAND! Coming Soon!

Vic looked around. The two-lane side street with its barbecue joint on the corner and a row of office buildings across the Boulevard wasn’t exactly someplace he would’ve expected to find the next teenage hangout. A trio of boys on bikes goofed off farther down Leigh, jumping off the curb and hopping back up again when a car approached. More than one driver hit his horn, earning the boys’ derisive laughter.

Vic waited until the street was clear before he crossed to the vendor cart. Who put a movie theater in a place like this? The traffic would worsen and the people who worked across the Boulevard weren’t likely to duck inside for a quick flick at lunch. Poor planning, in his opinion. Next thing he knew, they’d reroute the buses out here to capitalize on the situation, and Vic dreaded navigating this narrow side street in that big behemoth he drove.

The vendor cart sold Italian sausages dressed with peppers and onions on a warm bun. Vic bought two—they were a good size, easily half a foot long, and should hold him through the first part of his day. With the two buns wrapped in foil in one hand, a large cup of cold Coke in the other, he trotted back to his car, then noticed a bench at the end of the block. A bus stop, no less. So they already ran a route down this way. At least it isn’t mine, Vic thought as he took a seat. The Coke went on the bench beside him, as did one of the sausages. The other disappeared in a couple heavenly bites.

In the distance, he heard laughter—the boys on the bikes, he suspected. Somewhere a dog barked, and along the Boulevard, cars and the occasional truck zoomed through the intersection. Brakes squealed when the light turned red. The dog barked again, an agitated sound, as Vic started in on the second sausage.

Dogs were too noisy, Vic thought. Especially those little ones, the purse pooches so popular among Hollywood’s young ladies. At least cats were quiet creatures for the most part, though Vic had seen his landlady’s felines swarm around her legs as she unpacked her groceries, and he didn’t think he could stand something constantly under his feet like that. Or sitting on the dining room table grooming itself as he ate. Or sleeping in his bed.

Why would Matt want a pet anyway? Vic didn’t recall his lover ever mentioning one before. Before they met, Matt had lived a playboy lifestyle—impeccable clothes, flashy sports car, gelled curls. There had been a hint of desperation in his appearance, Vic realized looking back, something stand-offish that said quite clearly, “Look but don’t touch.” Even though Matt had sought him out after ditching his then-boyfriend Kyle, Vic had had to work through that flirtatious exterior to find the real man inside.

It’d been an act, Vic knew that now, designed to keep others at bay and hide Matt’s odd talent—the ability to endow his lover with superhuman power through intercourse. In the time they’d been together, Matt had matured in a lot of ways, mellowed out, settled down. He still strived to look good, but he didn’t waste money on designer jeans or the hottest fashions, and though his Jaguar was kept in running order, he wasn’t looking to splurge on the latest model. He’d moved into Vic’s apartment and slowly taken over every aspect of his life. Matt didn’t live for himself anymore; neither did Vic. Together they were complete, one complementing the other, neither whole when alone.

And truthfully? Vic wouldn’t have it any other way.

Maybe Matt’s request for a pet was another step in their relationship. It would be a big responsibility, one they’d have to share. Almost like having a baby, Vic mused with a shake of his head. One that never grew up, one they’d have to feed and care for constantly. It was a huge commitment, not to be taken lightly. First a pet, then a house, and God, then a ring…

Vic felt his cheeks heat up at that. Lately he’d been noticing the rings worn by the fares who rode his bus. Wedding rings with large diamonds, and thick gold bands that made his stomach flutter with a nervousness alien to him. A band like that, on Matt’s hand, that he’d put there? Sweet Jesus, the thought made him sweat. Talk about a big step—

Behind him, the dog’s incessant barking broke off into a series of yelps. With something akin to relief, Vic dropped the thought of a ring and reached out with his mind. He couldn’t communicate with animals, he knew—it wasn’t that they didn’t think so much as what went on inside their heads was so foreign to him, he couldn’t comprehend it. And though he wasn’t an animal lover by any stretch of the imagination, Vic knew the sound of pain when he heard it. Those yelps weren’t healthy. That dog was hurting.

A mental scan of the area turned up the three boys, their bikes discarded just inside a break in the chain link fence. They were behind the smaller building, pegging rocks at a Dumpster behind which the dog hid. One of the boys laughed as his rock bounced off the side of the building, mere inches from where the dog cowered. Vic brushed over the boys’ minds and found a memory of another rock striking the poor animal’s side before it had ducked behind the Dumpster. It was an older canine with a dirty golden hide, its fur worn through in spots, one ear ragged with dried blood.

Another rock pinged off the Dumpster—even from where he sat, Vic could hear it. The dog barked once, then whimpered as the boys edged around the trash bin in an attempt to hit it with the next stone.

Indignation flooded Vic, an anger so righteous, he surged to his feet. He might not be an animal person but hell, throwing rocks at a defenseless dog? What the f**k did people teach their children these days? Leaving his drink on the bench, he clenched his fist and squelched the last few bites of his sausage in its foil wrapper. If he could, he’d project himself into the mind of that dog and force it to attack those damn kids. Teach them a lesson…

Or s**t, why should the dog have all the fun?

With long strides, Vic strode down the street alongside the fence, looking for the hole through which the kids had entered the construction lot. When he found it, he ducked inside. The bikes were piled together on the ground, discarded. The boys had split up—two stood at one end of the Dumpster, their friend at the other end, trapping the dog. They couldn’t have been more than sixteen, Vic thought. Why weren’t they in school? Better yet, chasing after girls? Or hell, after boys, as Vic had been doing at their age? Playing video games, texting their friends, hanging out at the mall…anything but terrorizing a stray dog.

As Vic watched, the tallest boy pulled back his arm, winding up for a good throw, a large stone in his fist. “Hey!” Vic barked. He scowled, a look that could frighten the toughest of men. These kids didn’t stand a chance against it. “What the f**k are you boys doing?”

The three kids turned as one. Fear flashed across their faces, and Vic thought that would be the end of it. But the tall boy, he had spunk. Hefting the rock in his hand, he asked, “What’s it to you?”

“Leave that dog alone,” Vic warned.

The boy laughed, defiant. “What dog?” Turning to his friend, he shrugged and asked, “Do you see a dog here? I don’t.”

Behind the Dumpster, the dog barked once, as if relieved to be rescued.

Tossing the rock at it, the boy hollered, “Shut up, you mutt.”

A metallic squeal rent the air as the Dumpster’s lid rose and bent back, twisting off its hinges. The rock struck the lid and bounced back at the boys, missing the dog completely. The kids stared at each other, mouths agape. “How’d that happen?” one of them asked.

“I said leave it alone,” Vic reminded them.

The tall boy stooped to pick up another rock. This time, he aimed at Vic. “f**k you, asshole.”

On any other day, the rock might have hit Vic square in the face. But there was enough trace metal in it to let Vic’s telekinetic ability send it flying off to one side. Taking a deep breath to reign in his anger, Vic said, “Because you’re young and stupid? I’m going to pretend you didn’t do that.”

The other kid grabbed his friend’s arm. “Let’s go, Bobby. It’s not worth it.”

But Bobby was already on the ground, a handful of rocks gathered into both hands. “This old man is dead,” he promised.

Old man. Vic rolled his eyes—had he been this precocious at their age? He didn’t think so. And he wasn’t old. Old men needed little blue pills to get it up, and Vic saw more action on a regular basis than most guys half his age. “Look,” he tried, “I’ll give you to the count of three. One—”

Bobby threw his stones, which fell like rain a good two feet in front of Vic. The kid standing by himself laughed. “Dude, you suck.”

Behind Vic, the bicycles began to rattle nervously, as if anxious to get going. “Two.”

Another handful of rocks. This time Vic didn’t just let them fall, but sent them back at Bobby, who ducked as they pelted him. Directly into the kid’s mind, Vic asked, ::Doesn’t feel too good, does it?::

“Let’s get out of here,” one of Bobby’s friends said, fear in his voice.

“Three.” Vic gave them a sinister grin. “Time’s up.”

The two nameless boys raced for their bikes but Bobby stood his ground, unwilling to be chased off. Closing his eyes, Vic channeled the energy coursing through him and directed it at the thin frames of the bikes. When the kids touched the handlebars, the metal curled around their wrists like handcuffs. One boy shrieked; the other yelled, “Get it off! Get it off!”

Seemingly alive, the frames snaked around the boys’ waists. Their hands were pulled behind their backs, their arms pinned at their sides. Then the bikes rose in the air, moving toward the fence, where the front tires snagged on posts high above the ground. The boys hung, suspended, held prisoner by the twisted metal of their bikes.

When Vic opened his eyes, Bobby glared at him. Without a word, the boy turned and ran.

A nod of Vic’s head brought Bobby’s bike to life. It flew after him like vengeance and tackled the boy to the ground. He got the same treatment as his friends—the handlebars tightened around his wrists as the rest of the bike wound around him. Then he was hoisted into the air and hung from the fence like the others.

The fight in his eyes didn’t die. “Get me down, you freak! I’ll call the police! You’re so dead!”

With a flick of his hand, Vic sent a piece of scrap metal flying at Bobby. It clamped across his mouth like a gag, silencing him. “Shut the f**k up.”

Vic glanced at the other two boys, who shook their heads and pressed their lips together tight to show they wouldn’t argue. What had Bobby said? I’ll call the police…

Good idea. Vic held a hand out at his waist—his cell phone leaped from its holster on his belt into his palm. It flipped open on its own so Vic could press and hold the number four button. Number one on his speed dial was voicemail; two and three were Matt’s cell and office numbers. Four was a direct line to…

“Kendra here.” The woman’s voice was tinny but clear. Vic raised the phone to his ear. “Hey, Vic. What’s up?”

“You on duty?” he asked. Officer Kendra Jones worked for the Richmond City police. She was the only person Vic had ever told about his superpowers and how he got them.

“I’m at lunch,” she admitted. “Where do you need me to be?”

“Over here on Leigh Street, near that new movie place they’re building.” Edging around the Dumpster, Vic glanced in the darkness and saw bright eyes staring back at him. The dog scooted away and Vic knelt, the rest of his sausage held out like a peace offering. Cautiously, the dog inched forward, nose quivering. “I had a run in with some kids messing with a dog. I could use a hand.”

“Is the dog all right?” Kendra asked.

Vic shrugged. “Don’t know. It’s hiding.”

With a laugh, she asked, “Are the kids all right?”

“I didn’t touch them,” Vic said. Technically, that wasn’t a lie.

“I’ll be right there,” Kendra promised.

As he hung up, Vic felt something hot and wet lick his fingers. He looked down to find the dog still crouching behind the Dumpster, but its head had stretched out and its tongue tasted Vic’s hand. Then it found the remains of the sausage and bit at it. When Vic moved, a low growl rose in the back of the dog’s throat.

“Shh,” Vic murmured. “It’s cool. It’s okay.”

The growl cut off as the dog watched him, wary.

Vic extended his hand a little farther. “Go on, take it.”

With one large bite, the dog snagged the sausage and pulled it out of Vic’s palm. It scooted back into the darkness behind the Dumpster, growling again as it ate.

Vic leaned back against the side of the building and sank into a squatting position to wait for Kendra.