Tanya Davidson
This is the life: modern era, no crazy beings trying to kill me, just going to a well-funded public school. How could things be so easy? I sometimes ask myself.
I wasn't being forced into an army I didn't want to join, no BMX trying to kill me—life was good. The only downside, as far as I could see, was that I didn't technically know who my mother and father were. Apparently, I had been given to an orphanage when I was born, but unlike my life in the Empire, I didn't spend the rest of my life waiting to be picked up by some parents who would never come, eventually joining the military. I had been picked up by a nice couple.
Bob Davidson and his wife, Elia Davidson, were good parents. They weren't too strict, and they were very encouraging of education—just the proper conditions I needed to go big and far in this life. I'd almost say BMX had put me into a life where I was going to succeed, making up for the torture he had put me through. Though I was still a female, so obviously he still had some sort of grudge, or maybe he just didn't pay attention. I don't know. He threatened me with not having a reincarnation after my next death. I had assumed this either meant my soul would be taken out of the reincarnation wheel (a concept from Buddhism), or I would simply not have the memories of my past lives. Neither of those were true, so I'm not sure what he was thinking when he sent me on to my next life.
All I know is, I'm 14 years old, and I'm having a great day. I came out of classes with A's, all my schoolwork is done, and I could just go home and troll Wikipedia, reading various articles on economic facts. Maybe I'd pay attention to some of those superhero movies and television shows, but I'm not really sure how this stuff is so popular—considering, well, they're real.
I mean, the movies were obviously fake. They were dramatized to hell. But these actors were real superheroes. It's funny to think that I live in a reality where DC's Watchtower would have been funded by Superman starring in a couple of movies. But the humor died out when you realize that superheroes were real—they were out there, doing good deeds. However, their overrepresentation in the media just gave me a creeping feeling.
I don't know, perhaps I'm just a little paranoid because there was so much propaganda out there for these heroes. So many aspects of their careers were almost manufactured. I had to wonder if there was something weird going on with them. Corporations tend to try and show their best foot, but that doesn't mean they're hiding something evil about their superheroes.
Yawning, I looked out across the street. It was currently empty, but we were waiting for the walk sign to turn green. I had to cross the street to get to my bus stop. From the bus stop, I could get home to my little house on the outskirts of town.
But for some reason, the light was taking forever to change.
I checked my watch once more, getting a scoffing noise from my right as I looked over to see Bethany and her friends talking to each other.
"Do you have something to say, Bethany?"
"Oh, nothing much," she mused, before adding, "Just noting that your watch is made of plastic." She said, holding up her own, which was made from some fine metal, I'll admit.
I raised an eyebrow at her before shaking my head. "Some people don't want to spend money frivolously."
"True, but I mean, you don't even have a modern cell phone. Your thing flips open," she said matter-of-factly. I looked at her before shrugging. "I don't need a cell phone to look at the internet for answers on the test, Bethany."
Her eyes narrowed. "But we've been throwing insults at each other for the whole school year at this point." I don't know. I think my nature of being economically responsible upset the girl, who tended to spend her money frivolously—buying beautiful dresses and expensive handbags. Oh, I'm sure the shoes she was wearing right now, boots with a nice shine to them, probably cost more than the shirt and pants combo I was wearing at that moment.
I would love to be able to spend money wastefully like she does, but I'm more responsible. I'm like an adult—well, child responsible with my money. That was the important part. I wasn't going to waste my precious funding on things I didn't need. I had to do what was necessary to get me into a position where I could make much more money.
Sure, I could've gone for a phone with a big screen and internet access, but the temptation to look at things on the internet is too great in a child's mind. Doesn't matter that my mental capabilities are nearly a hundred years old—that's software. The hardware, my brain, is 14, and it's easily distracted. So I just made sure not to give the hardware the virus that was complete access to the internet 24/7.
That being said, it was getting kind of annoying waiting on this damn light, listening to the judging comments from behind me from Bethany and her friends. I looked left, I looked right, and sighed. There was no one coming—no cars—and the light still wasn't changing. What the heck is going on? Shaking my head, I decided I could probably make it. Picking up my backpack, I stepped into the street, only to hear a shocked gasp from behind me.
"Oh no, the poor girl is going to commit suicide and run out into the street!" Bethany said.
"Worst! Bethany!" Stephanie said. "She's breaking the rules and jaywalking! I thought she was against breaking the rules."
"There's literally no one coming," I said, walking into the middle of the street, done with today's annoyance. Dealing with Bethany and her friends every day to get to the damn bus stop was going to drive me nuts—and it already had, considering I was doing this. They were right, I shouldn't be breaking the rules. I was just so done with listening to them talk.
Shaking my head, I moved on, trying to cross the street as quickly as possible. The sooner I was across, the better. The sooner I wouldn't have to worry about listening to those idiots.
I was halfway through the street when things, of course, took an awkward turn for me.
There was, as I said, no one in the street—no cars, nothing for miles in either direction. According to velocity, even if a car turned onto the street at 25 miles per hour, I would have time to cross without issue.
But what about 75 mph and gaining? I should have asked, because that's what happened. An armored car used for transferring money between banks and federal reserves screeched around the corner. Its wheels somehow didn't pop under the tremendous force of going at 75 mph, and it then engaged full speed directly at me. I had no chance to turn and run. I tried—I jumped left, hoping that, at worst, I'd get smashed in the legs and maybe have to spend a few months in a cast. Nah, I swear the man swerved to hit me.
At possibly 95 mph, this huge truck full of cash—and who knows what else—armored with heavy metal, smashed into me at full force. I was sent flying. Surprisingly, no, I wasn't dead. I knew that probably wouldn't be for long, as I was hurtling through the air at 95 mph, towards the brick walls and metal posts on the right side of the road—the side I had been trying to get to so that I could wait for the bus. There goes another life taken away, I thought, just random, unexpected bullcrap, as I hurtled through the air, closing my eyes, expecting to wake up in a few moments in the next life.
I felt myself smash into a metal lamp post right at the midsection of my back. Broken back—here it comes, followed by death. I thought maybe even worse: maybe I'd hit the post with such force that it would rip its way through me and I'd end up in two pieces. Weird things happen in car accidents.
I waited, and then I fell to the ground. I didn't feel anything…
So I lived, I thought for a moment, my eyes still closed, hearing the sounds of panic, screaming, and confusion.
If I don't feel pain, I must've destroyed my spine so greatly that I would never stand again. Possibly, I would only have control over my brain for a few more minutes. I should be feeling pain though, at least for a bit. Should I? I opened my eyes and looked up at the sky, blinking a couple of times to make sure they worked.
They worked, which was good. Now, can I turn my head? I did so, turning my head, and looked over to where I had been hit, seeing the armored truck with a massive dent where the engine used to be, where I'd been hit. I blinked in confusion as some superhero I wasn't familiar with was currently ripping the door off the hinges of the armored truck and dragging out what I guessed were bank robbers or armored truck robbers, yelling at them about how they killed a kid and how they were going to spend the rest of their lives in jail. He threatened to kill them if they tried anything because he wasn't going to take their bullshit.
Well, at least they would see justice, I thought. I mean, I might not be dead—God, was I about to face some form of locked-in syndrome or be unable to move my lower body below my neck? Was this some grand mysterious plan of Being X?
I mean, I guess I can't really determine that without at least trying to move.
Taking a breath, I helped myself by hoping that something would work. I moved my right arm up to my face and brushed some of the debris that had gathered there from when I hit the ground. It moved. Good. I could move things above my spinal column that had probably been shredded. So, good. Okay. Moving my head to the left, I looked up at the pole, expecting to see it standing there resolutely. Instead, I saw that it was dented all to hell, as if something like a car had hit it. That was the only thing going through my brain as I decided to move on to step 0.3 and see if I could move my legs. My toes seemed to be functioning. I could feel them moving inside my shoes, and with little to no effort, I was able to pull myself into a sitting position.
Well, that was amazing, I thought, holding my hands up and looking at them, making sure everything was in the right position. I looked over my body but didn't get to finish checking myself out to make sure there was no noticeable damage before I heard a scream from across the street.
"Oh my fucking god, Tanya is a fucking zombie! Run for your goddamn lives!" came the voice of Stephanie.
Annoyed, I looked across the street, seeing her pointing at me like I was some sort of horror movie creature before running off to the right. Bethany, however, was looking at me, surprised, before pointing at me and saying, "Oh my fucking god, Tanya is a fucking super!"
I said out loud before things started to click into place. The front of the armored car was broken in from hitting something harder than it. The pole was damaged from something heavier than a teenage girl hitting it. The only thing that interacted with it was me, which meant somehow I was tougher than an armored car and a metal pole. Yeah, that's definitely evidence that I have some sort of latent superhuman abilities. Confused, I put my hand on the pole and used it to pull myself up, looking around and seeing that there was no crowd gathering. This is not going to be fun, I thought, as the superhero who'd been threatening and handcuffing the robbers looked over towards me. Seeing that I was, in fact, standing and not dead, he looked thoughtful for a moment.
He cleared his throat and walked over towards me, smiling as he said, "Are you okay, young girl?"
Shaking my head, I coughed before saying, "Yeah, yeah, I think I'm okay. Don't think I've ever been hit by a truck before," I said, trying to lighten the mood, which got the man to laugh as he looked at the pole. "Damn, girl, you are made of some stern stuff."
"You should ask your parents about joining the youth division of the company. You could make quite a bit of penny being able to take a hit like that and, not to mention, who knows what else you can do. You gotta be tested and all that to see how you're doing."
"Tested? Yeah, great, good to know," I said.
I looked at my bus stop, then back at the road, which was now full of the damaged armored truck and police cars that were coming to pick up the criminals.
"I need to get out of here," I thought. "There's no way the bus is going to be coming to this street, and I do not want to be related to the soup situation at all, beyond the media coverage that's going to come with it. There's also the whole fact that some media coverage seems to play off the idea of superheroes being holy figures, messiahs, and considering Being X's involvement, I do not want to deal with that at all."
Looking at the sign at the bus stop, I saw that the next stop was three blocks down. Now, if the bus couldn't get here, it would most likely go around to try and get to the next stop. So, looking at the superhero, I said, "Thanks for stopping those criminals, but I gotta go."
"Wait, I need your name!" he called as I ran. I wanted nothing to do with it, so I didn't want to give him my name. I just wanted to get to the bus stop and get out of here. Looking over my shoulder, though, I saw Bethany smiling and starting to head towards the superhero. The rich bitch was going to sell me out. Oh well, I'll deal with that later.
For now, just get home and relax for the day. Maybe plan for an escape tomorrow that would hopefully prevent me from getting pulled into the nonsense that was superheroes.
Tanya
With a huff, and in a rush, I ran up the last few steps of the sidewalk and reached the front door of my house. Fiddling with the key, I pulled it open and stepped inside, taking a deep breath, inhaling the comforting home air. Safe. Safe and sound, away from the chaos. But I had only run away from the chaos. I was going to have to go back. I'm screwed, and at the moment, I doubted my life would be very easy at all considering what had just happened. But maybe I would have some small period of time to myself before morning came.
It's making my head spin. I walked by the kitchen as my mother called from the oven, where she was putting something in. "Dinner will be ready in an hour, Tanya. Welcome home. How was your day at school?"
"Oh, it's, uh... it was nothing." I stopped, wondering if I should tell her. What was the cost-benefit? I would get the amount of peace I wanted for the next few hours, at least. Versus her being prepared for whatever was coming in the morning. Ugh, I do value my peace, though.
"Something happen?" My father called from the living room, near the hallway. "A boy finally asked you out? Remember to bring him by and give me some warning so I can get my shotgun cleaning supplies ready while he's here."
"Stop it, Bob," my mother called from the kitchen, getting a laugh from my father. "I'm just doing what a good father's supposed to, Eli."
I leaned against the wall and said, "Well, nothing that drastic, you know. I just crossed the street and got hit by a truck going around thirty to forty miles an hour, got sent flying through the air until I smashed into a light pole, and somehow I wasn't broken in half by the force of the hit."
"Good one, dear," my father said.
My mother immediately stopped what she was doing in the kitchen to come in and check on me. Stepping into the room, I noticed she was wearing a chef's apron over her clothing, her red hair done up a bit. She looked me over immediately, noticing I was a little more disheveled than usual. "Are you joking, or did you really get hit by a car?"
I raised my hands before saying, "I got hit by a car. Well, 'car' is an understatement. I got hit by an armored car. You know, the kind they use to take money to the banks? The only reason I'm alive is—" I didn't even need to finish the statement, as I saw her widen her eyes.
Her eyes remained wide. She called to the living room, "Honey, I think our daughter just found out she's a super. I guess we just found out as well," she said, moving to put her hand on my forehead to check my temperature, just to make sure I wasn't losing my mind.
"What, really? That's unexpected," he said, coming into the hallway. He was wearing a long-sleeve shirt and had a scraggly beard that hid most of his face. He took a knee and put his hand on my shoulder, looking at me before saying, "Well, yes, this is one of those things that happens. Never thought it would happen to us," he said, looking at my mother.
She nodded before saying, "Uh, yes. We should just be glad that it kicked in when it did. Well, I have to ask—what were you doing in the middle of the street?"
My father tapped the side of his head while I explained, "I was having a bad day and wanted to get away from someone who's now making it worse. Unfortunately, today was not the day to jaywalk."
"You can say that again. That's good," he said, sipping from his beer before shrugging. "Well, I'm not really sure what to do about this. Just be glad you're alright. Should we contact that company that takes care of the superheroes?"
Mother shook her head, saying, "We shouldn't do that. We don't want everyone to know she's different and ruin her social life. I was a teenager once; trust me, being different, even in a good way, will ruin your social life."
"Thanks, Mom," I said, glad she understood my mentality on some of these things. Dad did chuckle though, saying, "Though maybe we should contact Disney first. I hear they're trying to start up their own super kids division to try and counterbalance that other company."
I laughed at that as well. With this dad, I'd probably lucked out when it came to family. There were probably families that would have immediately forced me to join this whole superhero thing. The fact that they were at least considering keeping this under wraps? That was a lucky break.
Letting out a deep breath, I said, "We may not have a choice in this matter. There was a super there when it happened."
"Ohh," Dad said, shaking his head. "Well, then I can imagine we'll probably have someone knocking at our door within the week." I nodded in agreement before adding, "Also, the person who was making my life a little more miserable at the time immediately started talking to them as I was running away, so maybe less."
"Don't worry about it, dear. We're here for you. That's why I'm sure we can do something. I don't know, I mean, there's gotta be ways for supers who don't want to be supers to just be part of society. Have you seen some of the stuff they get up to? I thought child beauty pageants were dystopian. The stuff I've seen super kids get involved in just gives me the creeps. Not to mention, super beauty pageants aren't exactly much better."
I nodded. This was true. I had seen some on the television now and again. What this world had to offer supers wasn't the movies or TV selling fictionalized versions of hero events. They were in some sort of contest of beauty and grace. It would be like a permanent propaganda shoot. Not to mention, there seemed to be a general theme with the most popular supers, especially on the female side of the equation, showing off more skin. And though I was only a teenager, I could see this being a rather concerning thing for my future. At the very least, I would hope it would be the future, at least four or five years down the line.
"If my little girl wants to stay out of their craziness, that's completely something I'm willing to support," my father said. "No," he added, getting up from his knee, "I know a lawyer friend from work. I'll see if he can dig up some information for us so we can figure out how to make sure she doesn't have to have a weird life because of this stuff."
"Right," Mother said before looking at me. "Go upstairs and put on something a bit more clean. You look like you've been playing in the road," she said with a smile.
I rolled my eyes before saying, "Yes, Mother."
I started to move toward the stairs when there was a knock at the door. Turning back, my father pointed up the stairs, saying, "Go, I'll handle this," as he moved toward the door. I made it up the stairs before I heard the door opening. That took me by surprise. I wasn't usually able to hear that. I stopped. I heard two voices as clear as day, not muffled or anything—it was just my hearing. It had automatically improved over the last 24 hours. Whatever made supers super was slowly going into effect. I had to guess my life had been saved, and now I was hearing. Then through the rates—what other abilities were going to be coming up that I would have to deal with?
"Good evening, Mr. Davidson," the familiar voice of the super I ran into on the road said. "Sorry to bother you so late in the evening, but I think I ran into your daughter today in front of a high school on 3rd Street."
"That is where she goes. I don't know why you would think you ran into her," my father said, sounding guarded but happy to speak to the man. "I see you're some sort of superhero. Is there a reason you're here? Or are you just here to pester me about what my little girl's been up to? She hasn't committed any crimes, has she?"
"Oh no, Mr. Davidson, nothing like that. Nothing that outrageous. It's just that she awakened as a super today. She nearly died, but instead this happened. Being that I'm a representative of our organization, it's my responsibility to check up on her and make sure she has the necessary cards and information to get the proper help. Please, join the Society of Supers."
I heard something being passed from The Super to my father, as he said, "Well, that's nice of you, but my daughter isn't exactly interested in joining the Society of Supers. She just wants to be normal."
"Well, I understand that a lot of people like being just regular humans. But she's a super now. She's going to have increased strength, and at the very least, a good chance of flight, since she's lucky. She has to be careful handling others. She could easily hurt people. There have been quite a few incidents over the years where young supers, as they come of age, end up accidentally breaking their boyfriends, if you know what I mean. It's better for her to have her hands in the community, so we can help her in those sorts of situations—or at least help her find a boyfriend who won't break so easily."
"Well, that is very interesting information, Mr. Super," my father said, sounding angry. "But my daughter doesn't want to be involved in your society. I will inform her of your thoughts on the matter, but her opinion matters most in this situation. If she doesn't want to be involved, she doesn't want to be involved."
"Of course, of course. At least have her come by Vought International to release her testing so we can find out exactly what kind of powers she has and provide her with more resources. Lots of people who get superpowers immediately rush out and think they can be superheroes, only to end up getting hit by trains, shot, or not realizing that their clothing can just disintegrate if they go fast enough. We have medical services, costuming—everything she might need."
"Oh, I will let her know," my father said, and I heard the door closing in the man's face. At least I could trust my family to handle things. Bob was a good guy in this lifetime. I brushed myself off and moved to the store, then quickly made my way to my room. I stripped out of the clothes I had been hit by the car in, dumping them in the laundry basket before pulling on a simple dress.
What was I going to do about this in the long run? I had to think about it for a moment. Were there any benefits to this? For me, I could make a lot of money. I had to admit, supers make a lot of money. There were many potential revenue avenues, not just from being a savior, but from owning other businesses or letting companies use your likeness. But to do that, I'd have to get famous, and to get famous, that meant either saving a lot of people or selling out. As my mother had said, beauty pageants. I wouldn't say I was up for that. Shaking my head, I decided I'd think about this some more after dinner when I had time to myself.
Tanya
Dinner was good; it really filled me with energy. After a few light conversations with my family, I was again alone in my room, taking time to think to myself. The TV was on in one corner as I worked on homework, trying to figure out what I was going to do. I saw some promotion for the next Homelander movie. Ah, I wish the world wasn't so wrapped up in these people. That was another concern in the back of my mind, familiar once again. After all, the last time I had powers, I was under the painful control of Being X, which caused me issues and forced religious words out of my mouth. Granted, that wouldn't happen with these powers, but I couldn't ignore the fact that it was widely known that many supers were seen as Messiah figures or heralds of God in some way or another. There were a few supers who were particularly religious about that fact.
Granted, I wouldn't be forced to espouse religious rhetoric, but what if my handlers decided that religious rhetoric was what made people happy when they saw me? If I went into the superhero field... Perhaps I was over-worrying, perhaps I wasn't. It was always best, though, to think these things through. So here I was, thinking them through, feeling my powers awakening one by one. It was weird, like I could just feel things starting to turn on. I squinted my eyes at a nearby wooden box that held toys from when I was younger and saw right through the box—literal X-ray vision. All I needed to do was squint, and if I squinted even harder, I could probably turn that box into a fiery inferno, but I didn't want to do that. Shaking my head, I felt very energized. I got up, moved to the window, and actually had to take a breath of fresh air.
How many powers was I going to unlock? What else could I do? And why did I have this overwhelming sense that I could just step right out of this window and fly? I bit my lip, looking down out of my window, seeing the bush below. Should I risk it? The bush would catch me... I did miss flying. Shaking my head, I sighed, grabbing the window. I stepped out, holding on tight, and threw myself out the window, half-expecting to hit the ground. Instead, I just floated there...
I smiled. A smile I hadn't had since my days on the German front. I could do a lot with flying. Not having to worry about buses, not having to worry about transportation in general. Personal flight was my jam, and to have it again... Well, it would make whatever comes next a little bit easier.