01-26-2011, 10:53 PM
Sid rolled onto his side. His fingers slid towards his darkened wound, sliding through the thick blood that coated his torso. The flesh was missing in many places, ripped into pieces and disintegrated by the explosion’s might. In other areas his wound had cauterized and his skin crisped and flaked upon being touched. It was blackened and hard, yet fragile, like the burnt skin on barbecued chicken. He doubted that his own burnt flesh would have been so tasty. He groaned, and then pulled himself onto his knees.
The Invader hissed above him. Sid had not anticipated that he would have moved so quickly. His fears were reassured as his eyes came to rest on the armored midsection of the Commander. The beast looked at him curiously, tilting his head to the side as if he were inspecting his wounded prey before he delivered the finishing blow.
Sid tried to avoid his foe’s constant glare, but he could not take his eyes away from the looming alien. He was shaking now; even the power of the mask could not hide his inner fears.
And then, all of a sudden, there was a miracle. The sound of gunfire tore through the silence of the Commander’s inquisition and rained down upon his back.
Sid jumped backwards, stumbling as he grabbed his wound, and watched as the Older Man stood tall, firing energy packets into the armored chest of the alien officer. Relief and love for their leader’s heroism washed over him. But it was not pure, he realized quickly. His gratefulness was corrupted by shame and wanting. Where was his own courage when he needed it most?
“Damn,” Sid whispered. His mother would have been disappointed with his language. He dropped his head for a moment. Shame. Embarrassment. Nervousness. Fear. They all washed over him.
Time slowed, but it did not stop, and Sid raised his eyes once again and noticed the Commander turning around, slowly and unwounded, to face the Older Man. Twice now this elderly officer had saved his life, and now Sid stood and looked on as his imminent death descended upon him. First, the Older Man would be killed, and then the Commander would slaughter the rest of them before turning back to the masked child, his original target. The Commander’s lackeys were so confident in their leader that they stood relaxed on the edge of the battlefield, watching with excitement as he descended into their ranks.
His fingers were crackling now; he could hear the familiar sound attacking the air. He looked down and, with surprise, noticed the white energy from before swirling around his finger tips, sparking and dancing around his hands as they had from his aura and from the energy orbs. Instinctively he hurled his hands forward and held them there. He could feel the power rushing through his body, originating at his soul and surging forward towards his hands. White energy began to gather in his palms, which contained the material and molded it into a large orb. With one final push Sid sent the sphere careening towards his opponent, a small tail trailing behind the larger, basketball-sized attack as it sped towards the back of the armored Commander.
The Invader cried out as the blast detonated on his back and sent him stumbling forward, but did not knock him down. Part of his armor had been destroyed. Reacting, but not thinking, Sid warped towards his opponent, his body vanishing and then materializing as it usually did when he teleported. As he reappeared, he pulled back his comically thickened hand, a result of the transformation, and curled it into a menacing fist, which he plowed into the exposed section of the commander’s back.
And then time stopped. Sid took a moment to breathe. He was exhausted and shaking violently. He needed to learn how to control his powers, running on instinct and reaction would get him killed sooner or later. He knew that. They needed to get out of here, he wouldn’t be able to surprise-attack the Commander for the rest of the battle, and eventually his subordinates would enter the fight proper.
Sid warped over to the mound of duffel bags where his fellow comrades had positioned themselves and, one by one, he moved their bodies so that they were all near one another. Not knowing exactly what he was doing, the masked remnant of an ancient power walked into their midst, making sure that part of his body was in contact with each other them. He then teleported, bringing himself, the Older Man, Brett and the rest of the militia away from the battle field. He warped and warped again until he was sure that they were far from the Commander and his soldiers. All the while he kept to their prior course, heading towards the column of smoke over the horizon.
Once they were safe, he released his fellow soldiers and collapsed in exhaustion. As he fell, he reinstated the power of time.
“Holy shit, what the hell just happened, how did we get here?!” one man shouted. Sid’s vision was closing, and closing fast. He reached up and pulled the mask from his face, transforming himself back into the innocent twelve year old that they all knew him as. He dropped the artifact at his side and began to embrace his exhaustion. He let his eyes close.
“I think the kid saved us . . .” He heard the Older Man whisper to the others as he left the realm of the consciousness and entered that of dreams and memories.
The Invader hissed above him. Sid had not anticipated that he would have moved so quickly. His fears were reassured as his eyes came to rest on the armored midsection of the Commander. The beast looked at him curiously, tilting his head to the side as if he were inspecting his wounded prey before he delivered the finishing blow.
Sid tried to avoid his foe’s constant glare, but he could not take his eyes away from the looming alien. He was shaking now; even the power of the mask could not hide his inner fears.
And then, all of a sudden, there was a miracle. The sound of gunfire tore through the silence of the Commander’s inquisition and rained down upon his back.
Sid jumped backwards, stumbling as he grabbed his wound, and watched as the Older Man stood tall, firing energy packets into the armored chest of the alien officer. Relief and love for their leader’s heroism washed over him. But it was not pure, he realized quickly. His gratefulness was corrupted by shame and wanting. Where was his own courage when he needed it most?
“Damn,” Sid whispered. His mother would have been disappointed with his language. He dropped his head for a moment. Shame. Embarrassment. Nervousness. Fear. They all washed over him.
Time slowed, but it did not stop, and Sid raised his eyes once again and noticed the Commander turning around, slowly and unwounded, to face the Older Man. Twice now this elderly officer had saved his life, and now Sid stood and looked on as his imminent death descended upon him. First, the Older Man would be killed, and then the Commander would slaughter the rest of them before turning back to the masked child, his original target. The Commander’s lackeys were so confident in their leader that they stood relaxed on the edge of the battlefield, watching with excitement as he descended into their ranks.
His fingers were crackling now; he could hear the familiar sound attacking the air. He looked down and, with surprise, noticed the white energy from before swirling around his finger tips, sparking and dancing around his hands as they had from his aura and from the energy orbs. Instinctively he hurled his hands forward and held them there. He could feel the power rushing through his body, originating at his soul and surging forward towards his hands. White energy began to gather in his palms, which contained the material and molded it into a large orb. With one final push Sid sent the sphere careening towards his opponent, a small tail trailing behind the larger, basketball-sized attack as it sped towards the back of the armored Commander.
The Invader cried out as the blast detonated on his back and sent him stumbling forward, but did not knock him down. Part of his armor had been destroyed. Reacting, but not thinking, Sid warped towards his opponent, his body vanishing and then materializing as it usually did when he teleported. As he reappeared, he pulled back his comically thickened hand, a result of the transformation, and curled it into a menacing fist, which he plowed into the exposed section of the commander’s back.
And then time stopped. Sid took a moment to breathe. He was exhausted and shaking violently. He needed to learn how to control his powers, running on instinct and reaction would get him killed sooner or later. He knew that. They needed to get out of here, he wouldn’t be able to surprise-attack the Commander for the rest of the battle, and eventually his subordinates would enter the fight proper.
Sid warped over to the mound of duffel bags where his fellow comrades had positioned themselves and, one by one, he moved their bodies so that they were all near one another. Not knowing exactly what he was doing, the masked remnant of an ancient power walked into their midst, making sure that part of his body was in contact with each other them. He then teleported, bringing himself, the Older Man, Brett and the rest of the militia away from the battle field. He warped and warped again until he was sure that they were far from the Commander and his soldiers. All the while he kept to their prior course, heading towards the column of smoke over the horizon.
Once they were safe, he released his fellow soldiers and collapsed in exhaustion. As he fell, he reinstated the power of time.
“Holy shit, what the hell just happened, how did we get here?!” one man shouted. Sid’s vision was closing, and closing fast. He reached up and pulled the mask from his face, transforming himself back into the innocent twelve year old that they all knew him as. He dropped the artifact at his side and began to embrace his exhaustion. He let his eyes close.
“I think the kid saved us . . .” He heard the Older Man whisper to the others as he left the realm of the consciousness and entered that of dreams and memories.