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Galilei Technical Messaging
115 Redbay Ln
Clayton NC 27527 5271
End all futher communication.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Spring Harvest Festival had arrived at The Park again, the watered down Easter-without-religion distraction they established to keep the peasants of The Compound docile. I paid no attention to their bright banners, light soulless jazz, or the pastel clothing of the milling throng. My attention focused on the brass plaque they had beside the Parrott guns in the Civil War display, far from the central plaza.

 

The Mayor wouldn't advertise secret tunnels out of The Compound on a map like this, of course, but a trained eye could see certain gaps, or irregularities in the landscape, indicative of a secret tunnel long enough to lead out of my prison's confines. I'd heard rumors of connections with the Underground Railroad, or Prohibition era liquor routes, and wanted to see for myself.

 

I've made a few attempts above ground, but they invariably fail. Well meaning Compound dwellers called me out, summoning agents with tranquilizer guns. I've stolen vehicles, hid in foliage...I needed a more creative approach.

 

A masked child in a rainbow striped shirt darted around my legs, snatching a non-Easter-Easter-egg cleverly hidden behind the gun's roller. A second he found in the mouth of the cannon. "Happy Spring Day to you sir!" the child exclaimed before running off. I tipped an imaginary hat.

 

I at last found the irregularity I sought in the Flower Garden, an asymmetric break in the otherwise perfectly geometric pattern of limestone and concrete. It seemed I would be participating in this farcical celebration after all.

 

I tried to act unhurried, to avoid attracting suspicion. An armada of waterfowl inhabited The Park's kidney shaped lake. One luxury of having no streets or traffic, I suppose. Ducks paddled by the stone bridge, geese congregating on an island beneath a willow tree.

 

A crowd had gathered in the amphitheater in the center of the park, ever last person clad in pastel faux-Easter attire. Shirts with eggs and bunnies on them, or Easter egg designs, many of them bearing messages like, `YOU MUST FEEL GUILT,' `FEEL GUILT ABOUT WHO YOU ARE,' `REGRET YOUR RACE' and `FEEL SORROW FOR YOUR GENDER.'   Adults held watery green and purple beers in translucent cups, pulling back their masks to drink like visors on knight helmets. Children had chocolate bunnies and cotton candy, a bright rainbow of balloons.

 

After living in The Compound so long, I recognized most the faces, but we only talked briefly, or not at all. I trusted no one. Any one of them could have been responsible for my imprisonment, or serving as my jailor.

 

On stage, a group of musicians played something generic and wordless on electric guitar, double bass and keyboard, the drummer simulating the heartbeat of a coma patient.

 

Pretending to enjoy myself, I cut my way through the passive mob, intending to casually stroll past the stage to the flower garden.

 

The musicians finished their set, and The Mayor emerged from a hidden trapdoor beneath the stage, seated in an egg shaped chair. The rotund, goateed man gave a welcoming address, signaled for the color guard to present the colorfully striped snakehead flag of the Unified Government as The Pledge was given:

 

I pledge allegiance

To the Unified Government of the World

And to the Organization for which it was founded

One Nation

Under the Higher Power, whatever you choose it to be

With Peace, Prosperity and Goodwill to all.

 

The jazz band had the privilege to play the Compound Anthem. I had reached the end of the stage by the time The Mayor began his first announcement: "Today's Readers Network Story Contest winner is Delilah4, with her lesbian romance, `One Day the Flag will wave for Us!' Delilah4, please come up and receive your trophy.."

 

Like everything in The Compound, the contest was a distraction to keep the population from contemplating escape. The money and recognition had no value to me whatsoever. I often used it as a forum to dump ideas I would never seriously consider for breaking out of the place. Sometimes it unlocked an idea of actual usefulness. Other forum members sometimes offered alternatives in the form of a critique, though I often looked at them with some suspicion.

 

On to The Garden.

 

A beautiful place. Stone gazebo with a walkway where faith-non-specific weddings of all sexual orientations got held, a fountain at center with sculpted seahorses, flowers galore. It took me more than twenty minutes to locate the odd area I'd discovered on the map. Naturally, they'd surrounded it with thorny rose bushes to deter intrusion.

 

Upon closer examination, I discovered a manhole cover. I frowned when I realized I would need tools to open it up.

 

"Aren't those lovely?"

 

I jumped. Someone had noticed me.

 

I moved on to the rhododendrons, pretending to be intensely interested in those as well. "Why yes! Someone must be working very hard on these!"

 

The man was bald, heavy set, his baby-like face partly concealed with a mask. I frowned at his tie dye pink YMFG shirt. 

 

"Each year, a contest winner gets the privilege of planting them all..." The voice belonged to Cannon161, my `therapist.' We talked once a month via phone. After perfunctory five minute conversations, he prescribed my antidepressants, more than likely glorified sleeping pills. "Speaking of which, you seem to have an eye for flora. Would you mind being this year's Flower Judge?"

 

I eyed the man warily. It seemed like every time I plotted an escape attempt, someone invariably came along and gave me a job to distract me from my task.

 

Still, cogs began turning in my brain. "Where...would this contest be held?"

 

He pointed to a small stone building a couple shrubbery rows over.

 

"Hmm. I'll think about it."

 

If he suspected my intentions, he did a good job of hiding it. His cheeks rose beneath the mask, indicating a grin. "I think the others would get a kick out of you being Judge. It's so nice to have a fresh set of eyes."

 

The interior of the Judging Center resembled that of an office building. In a conference room, the young and old had their botany projects laid out on several folding tables, inscriptions of plant names, both in English and Latin, carefully written beneath each one.

 

I got a special button to wear to show my new designation. I made a good show of being a fair contest judge, carefully weighing the positive and negative attributes of everything form aloe to zinnia. Inside my head, however, my only thought was `When would this pointless charade ever end?'

 

Once I had all my results tabulated, I returned to the garden for what I hoped others to think an innocent walk around the flower beds.

 

During the course of my judging activities, I located a few tools useful for the opening of manholes, a crowbar and a screwdriver, slipping the items into my blazer when no one was looking. I now tucked them under the rose bush, hoping the thorns would deter the "Higher Power" from retrieving the items until long after nightfall.

 

I returned to the building to announce my judgments.

 

I think I did a fair job. An old woman named Ethel670 got quite a few blue ribbons, and she deserved them for all the effort and care she put in. Mary Lou8, a twenty something, won a couple, and a charming gradeschooler named Lawshanda3 put up some excellent roses. After passing out all the ribbons, they at last allowed me to leave.

 

Since my investigation of the (presumed) underground tunnel needed to be done under the cover of darkness, I killed time with a hatchet contest, no pun intended. 

 

To my delight, I actually won, receiving a brand new stainless steel hatchet as a prize. Why they should allow me to keep such a dangerous weapon was a mystery, but I suppose they doubted I could do real damage with it. I've never been permitted to carry firearms.

 

At The Compound, we all lived in townhomes. Although they came in a variety of colors, they all looked the same, had the same architecture, and if you tried to redecorate, someone would drop by while you were out and change it back the way it was, all forbidden contraband confiscated They didn't even allow us to have locks on the doors.

 

With the exception of an attic, basement, study/work office, living room and fully equipped kitchen, they had many similarities to a hotel room. In fact, someone came in every day to wash the sheets and towels Our televisions only had four channels, all filled with United Government propaganda.

 

All Compound residents had to obey the 10 P.M. Curfew. Guards with tranquilizer darts patrolled The Park and its surroundings at night I'd made numerous attempts to to break it, but they've always ended with me passing out and waking somewhere in the townhome.

 

That being said, I'd recently begun peering out my blinds at all hours of the night, keeping a mental record of guards and their avenues of patrol. I had a fair idea of their whereabouts, the beat they walked, where they expected me to flee...and it seemed as if the path to the Flower Garden lay more or less unguarded.

 

Everyone at The Compound had a job. Mine was a work-from-home situation where I typed random numbers from an encyclopedia sized book into a computer. Mindless busy work, but I did get paid every time I completed twenty pages. This I occupied myself with for a solid hour after the PA systems played Taps.

 

At 11 P.M., I peeked through my blinds and saw they had posted a guard already.

 

As quick as I could, I yanked the door open, pulled the white jarhead into a sleeper hold, and stabbed him with his own tranquilizer darts.

 

Once the body had been hidden inside the doorway, I grabbed his dart gun and rushed outside, ducking behind a cluster of trees and bushes as a tan skinned second guard came marching up the path. His flashlight swung by, but he didn't see me in the dark.

 

My little scheme didn't go unnoticed for very long. As I made a mad dash behind a bronze sculpture of The Compound's Founder (no name, by the way, the plaque only read `Founder'), the sirens and search lights came on. German Shepherds barked in the distance. I had to hurry.

 

Once thing going in my favor: The Flower Garden was close to my house. Although I had to crawl on my stomach to hide behind a low wall at one point, and sprint across an open field with no cover, I didn't get grabbed or shot at. Someone did spot me, but I was concealed by hydrangeas by the time anyone caught up.

 

Up ahead, at the roses, I uncovered the tools I'd deposited. I thought they seemed to have moved slightly, but it could have been my imagination. Regardless of what happened, I now had them in hand, and in seconds removed the manhole cover.

 

The barking and shouts got louder. No time to stare into the manhole's depths.

 

Finding a ladder, I rushed in, securing the lid behind me as silently as I could muster. Only then did I have the luxury of looking around.

 

I'd entered a concrete bunker. Cold, air conditioned, no furnishings. Loud humming sounds filled the air, like a hydroelectric dam. 

 

The ladder faced a tunnel that seemed to have no end. This had to be the way out.

 

When I heard the shouts and barking getting close, I decided forward to be my only option.

 

I had jogged for what felt like a mile when the sudden appearance of a figure in a Hazmat suit stopped me in my tracks.

 

I unthinkingly fired a dart into his ABC gear. The material did not seem to be puncture resistant, for he collapsed.

 

His comrade (also space suited), alerted to the strange goings-on in the hallway, became the recipient of my second dart. Lucky for me, no others came, for I had depleted my ammunition.

 

My mouth fell open when I glanced through the steel security door the two had emerged from. 

 

Inside I discovered hundreds of metal canisters, greatly resembling beer kegs, each marked with biohazard symbols and the designation USA. The kegs to my left read `COVID-19', and to the right, `COVID-32-EXPERIMENTAL'.

 

A loud clanking sound told me my pursuers had breached the manhole cover. Desiring the slow them down, I grabbed several of the kegs, kicking them down the corridor. They rolled quite well, especially when the first black suited soldier came down with her dart gun.

 

The thickset, mustached man that joined her, however, seemed to be too prepared for my little game of real life Donkey Kong, so I did the only thing I could think of on such short notice, drawing my stainless steel hatchet.

 

Although I did not aim for the chest, I probably should have, for the results were far more unpleasant.

 

The can exploded, spraying my Jumpman with shards of aluminum, and a full dose of highly contagious airborne biological agent. He collapsed on the ground, clutching his throat as he gasped for air.

 

"I Can't Breathe," I muttered.

 

As I snatched up a gas mask, the woman I had previously dropped to the floor, now resumed standing position, dart gun at the ready. In the course of a few seconds, she would be at my heels, and in range to plug darts into them.

 

I donned the mask, bolting further down the tunnel.

 

The corridor terminated abruptly at a locked steel door and a ladder. I had no choice but attempt an ascent and hope for the best. I rushed up the corroded ladder. 

 

My pursuer huffed through the cloud of pathogen, gaining on me. I noticed her coughing, but it seemed she had held her breath somewhat, or had a greater resistance to the strain, for she didn't collapse like her predecessor.

 

At first the manhole cover above me didn't budge, but I banged my fists against it a few times and it got jarred loose. Once I had it moving, I received a shower of dirt for my troubles.

 

The woman was now at the foot of the ladder, aiming her weapon.

 

By some small miracle, the dart missed, and I made it into the open.

 

I stood amidst an arid wasteland. Barren, cracked soil, massive plateaus like in the Utah Valley. Although seemingly familiar, I could not say for certain where I was on planet earth. No familiar landmarks, no signs of civilization, only sand and sagebrush for miles in every direction.

 

I picked an outcrop and ran for it.

 

A strange mechanical whirring sound made me glance back for a moment. 

 

When I saw what it was, I ran faster.

 

My pursuer was something akin to a giant Bumble Ball, a rolling spherical monstrosity covered in stumpy red legs, filled with sloshing translucent ooze.

 

Try as I might, I couldn't run fast enough to escape its velocity. I let out a scream as it rolled over me, and I got sucked into a mass of goopy wet slime.

 

The liquid must have had tranquilizers or stunning agents in it, for I blacked out seconds later.

 

When I opened my eyes, I was on my couch in the townhome, Cannon161 smiling at me from a nearby recliner. "That was very naughty of you. Were you aware that we had cameras?"

 

TW: drowning

Bright was the word for it. All around Malcolm Chidike, the entire town of Newfield was in a red hue, like the earth itself was heating up with fire. In reality, it was just the lantern lights and droves of fireworks blasting in the night sky of the spring festival. He stared down at the armies of people, some in robes and masks, others in costumes parading all over the city. It almost made him forget about everything that happened just last year. From the Solar Flare to the appearance of superhumans, and to the rise of the first superhero, Maximum (which Malcolm loved to flex about very often). Almost made him forget about the loss. The people that died, the homes destroyed and his father and mother, now gone and in the dirt. Almost.

He pushed those painful feelings down in his gut until they vanished, then focused back on the parade below him. He wasn't Malcolm tonight, but something else. The city's hero that got them on the map of the world and lots of eyes on them, especially since a lot of superhumans have been appearing in Newfield in particular. He was Maximum, tall and proud. He pushed his pride to the side as well. You're here for a reason, Max'. remember that. Stay focused!

He vaulted off his vantage point and thirty feet across to the next building to scan into the crowds once again. Behind the blinding fireworks and crowds of laughing people below, nobody noticed him down below, much less could see him if they wanted to. He still took precautions, keeping his altitude low and leaped straight and across, building to building that's it. No theatrics and flips. As far as everyone and his friends knew, he was at home, chilling, playing a game of Smite, with no care in the world. That was the lie he told Daniel and Mara. Anything to keep them safe, especially Daniel. He didn't need to be anywhere close to this festival tonight. 

After his attack by some bigots due to the rise in Asian hate crimes, it took everything not to hurt Daniel again in order for him to stay home and heal, but his friend was as stubborn as Mara when it came to her food. Malcolm couldn't blame him. Why cower at home when you could give a big middle finger to racists by showing up and celebrating a piece of Asian culture? He couldn't let bigots win. Malcolm-no-Maximum promised him that he wouldn't let them win. Especially not this new superhuman in town who horrifyingly identifies with those same bigots. Calls himself the Rain Rider and Maximum couldn't help but remember his last words before he escaped in a puddle of rainwater.

They're all going to drown. Every last one of them. Then you too negro?

Maximum felt a chill up his spine as the villain's words shuddered back in his memories. Instead of fear fueling into anxiety, anger took its place. Anger that it was already bad enough people get hurt, robbed, raped, and beaten every day, but for something as small as the color of your skin? Malcolm felt a burst of energy build inside of him, the same energy he felt when confronting Ecstatic Edna back at the hospital, the same when he faced Matter Maverick, and he knew what it meant Rain Rider was going to feel it all.

It took a while to think about it, but Maximum figured the bigot, since he had his eyes on the Asian population, that he would make a scene here at the Spring Festival, maybe drown as many innocent grandmas and kids as he could. This wasn't no time for games anymore. This was life and death once again.  Maximum wasn't going to let these people get hurt. Not like Daniel. Especially like Damian and Anna Chidike. Not like the others.

His anger almost got the better of him, as he leaped to another building, but overstepped his bounds, leaped a little too high than expected. In quick succession, he felt an invisible telekinetic hand yank him back down towards the roof gravel. He cursed to himself. Rusty landing, but he was getting used to the telekinetic abilities. Strength and speed, obviously invulnerability were easier to maintain, but Psychokinesis?

Maximum peered down over a new marketplace that was bustling with new customers. His favorite Thai restaurant, Thai Hut was crowded and a line was all the way down three blocks until it blended into the crowd of happy smiles, brave people who were saying no to the violence against them. They wouldn't back down. Maximum let that defiance fuel him as he scanned the strip malls and rows of buildings. He leaped over alleyways and peered through their tiny cracks and crevices, looking for the Rain Rider's signature look. Spring means rain. Plenty of places for him to hide, since he can change into water. So where would he be?

The festival stretched all the way into downtown, filled with hundreds if not thousands of citizens. Rain Rider could have been in the crowd already, ready for his move. Maximum found himself sitting on a ledge, overlooking the town, lost in thought. He couldn't just check any big puddles. Fire hydrants? Futile search to find and markdown every fire hydrant in downtown, thinking the villain would erupt suddenly on a sidewalk and start going to town(then again maybe) but Maximum crossed it off.  He focused on the Rain Rider himself. The last time they met, they squared off in a bank because every cliche villain thinks to himself the first time they get powers, that they will just rob a bank. The next, he was around Chinatown, assaulting units of police, ready to send a crashing mini tsunami into an Asian family. That's when he decided to spew his psychotic, revealing his vile hate for people all because of how they looked. And his last words? It was a basic deduction he would make a grand stage this time to send a message. Somewhere large and populated for plenty of casualties. The Spring Festival. 

If he was going to do it so grandly then he would need a grand entrance. A Centerpoint?maybe somewhere he can creep up and appear, surprise everyone. Maximum let his mind wander on places around him. He eyed a corner of the marketplace, a tiny aquarium where live fish swam until they were grabbed and turned into someone's next dinner. Too small. He hurdled across two blocks and surveyed a crowd of people staring down at the parade, rows of dragons and dancers ending cheers and stares of awe from the crowd. Maybe. In the distance, the sound of laughing kids caught his attention. In the park, in the center, a large spray fountain sent them running in glee. The normally dim fountain was illuminated like fire, oranges, reds, and yellows from lights circling it lit the park in a radiant glow. Fireworks above sent the park brighter in a fiery explosion of light. Threw his goggles, Malcolm was amazed at the sight. The fireworks formed in shapes, from stars to trailing dragons. Soaked kids rain with sparklers in hand as their parents dance. The town of Newfield had never been that proud, never been that bright before in a long time. This was their rebellion, their chance to snap back at the hate crimes. Their way of saying no more, this won't stop us. 

Maximum almost smiled.

Reality hit him. The center of the park, the large erupting fountain of water, and crowds of families picnicking? He was darting towards the area faster than his heart could rocket out his chest, as fast as the Rain Rider appeared.

The spray fountain grew, grew enough until the entire park stared in awe even when the fountain changed shape, its amorphous formless rippling changed to a titan of water. The crowd clapped on. That was until the water giant roared and a large hand smashed into asphalt, sending people riding away in a wave. Then the chaos started.  The giant formed into the lights of the spring festival, appearing as if magma itself was alive, a glowing demon made out of fire, rocketing waves into families. Maximum was there in time to meteor in front of hordes of running people to raise an invisible wall blocking the villains' attack. He didn't have time to quip, as he was sleeping towards the next side of the park, sending another wall up, blocking Rain Rider's tsunami once again. The living water reeled back, carrying hordes of benches, decor, and debris from downed trees. It rose towards the sky then came rocketing back down, a faint shape of a fist roaring towards Maximum. 

Maximum felt the energy surge through him, let the crackling orange energy travel up his arms, then burst out in an opposing wave. Cold water felt like a rain of needles as debris cracked in contact with his shield. He raced across the park, following trails of water, slender snakes wrapping and flinging people across the land. Maximum was in the air in seconds, catching on the person, then sending telekinetic blankets to wrap and break the falls of others. In the corner of his eye, people fled before wet tendrils caught them and yanked them towards the center of the park, towards the glowing mountain of water. No. no no no?.

He was leaping towards the center, past, flinging debris, past screams, past trees catapulting towards him. He sent an explosive fist into the water but was suddenly sucked in.

He felt his lungs be seethed into with water as swirls of people spun around him, clinging onto their last breaths as the Rain Rider, through the water, cackled. A hissing voice entered Maximum's ears. 

I told you what would come. You're gonna' drown alongside these bastards and then I'll finish the rest of this place off!

Maximum clawed at the invisible enemy tried to blast off out of the watery tornado, but it was useless. He felt his lungs burn until he gulped in water and cold liquid started to sink into him. He felt his head burst into flame-like pain and somewhere along the way, debris crashed into him, sending him flying around the horror. He felt hands grab onto him, watery hands that flung him deeper into the tornado and into a citizen. The citizen clung to him, clenching so tight until, through the bubbles spewing at him, maximum could look into the woman's eyes. Not just a woman. Maybe someone's sister. An aunt. A wife. A mother.

Maximum felt that watery hand grab him and clench him so tight, he thought he might explode in guts and blood. Bones grinding against each other as muscles threaten to rip apart like rubber bands.  Behind the pain, the pleading to breathe, energy crackled deep in his belly. The fear turned into something else. It turned into a fierce hot rage that crawled up from his stomach until it entered his blood, steaming up the water around him, a small bubble, then bigger, until the water around Maximum exploded, then he was on the ground vomiting out water. His whole body burned. He felt light again like tons of force lifted off of him and he could have been a feather. He found his feet to the ground and stood, gasping for air, scanning the carnage around him. People were sprawled around him, coughing up water, crawling away from the retreating water. The water crawled and trailed past people until it reformed back at the center of the fountain and the Rain Rider appeared, this time normal size with a grin stretching across his face. 

He was a scrawny man, clad in purple and black rags, pale with soaked long dark hair and sweaty skin that always made him look sickly wet. Water dripped from his clothing as he walked towards the hero.

?That hurt,? his bluish lips formed hissing words that finally caught up to his mouth seconds later. Murky water rippled underneath his dead gray skin. ?I'll fill you up so much that your black blood will explode across this place, then I'll continue on to these rats and be on my way!?

Rain rider morphed into a charging watery rocket towards the hero. Maximum sent a burst of energy that obliterated the oncoming villain in rain. The rain reformed into a tendril and a stream of flying water circled behind the hero until it reappeared as the villain. a giant fist sent the hero across the park. Police lights met Maximum's vision and he cursed. No more casualties. No more innocents. He raised a hand and a glowing wall of orange energy caused police cars to skid to a stop. Through a windshield, an officer stared at the young hero and the two locked eyes.  Maximum charged the villain.

Rain Rider wasn't fast, but each blow only turned him into a dark liquid that slithered around the hero in a tendril tornado. The tendril caught his leg and flung him into the air, smacking him back to the ground over and over again. The tendril launched him into the sky and for those mere moments, Maximum was floating, cold water seeping into his nostrils and cold air sending chills into his body. He was afraid, very much so. Rain Rider was unstoppable, invincible, and seemed to never tire. How the hell was he going to defeat him? An image flashed into Maximum's mind. The woman in the water. How she clung onto him. How her eyes sunken into his until one message was clear: Save them. Don't let them be another casualty, another death he could have stopped. Not like his parents. Not like them.

Maximum turned midair, then propelled himself back towards the earth, sending a shockwave that sent rain Rider backward in a wave of water. As the villain reformed, a fist collided with him that made him explode in water. If Maximum couldn't beat him through his fists, then he would improvise. 

Water. H20. Even a Rain Rider needs oxygen. Maximum grinned.

As the water reformed, a bubble of telekinetic energy trapped the villain inside. Invisible hands kept the bubble compressed, locked so tightly in that not an ounce of air could enter. He imagined the bubble becoming more solid and solid, tiny pockets for air to come in lock shut, down to the molecular level. Layer after layer of steel-like trapping wrapped around the bubble until Rain Rider reformed back into his human form and gasped for air. 

His dark eyes stared daggers into the hero, and maximum stared back, eyes filled with rage, glowing with power. He was so focused, he didn't even notice the crowd of people looking on, cursing, and cheering all around him. He couldn't focus on them, only on him. Rain Rider shifted back and forth from water to him, smacking and crashing into the walls of the bubble, clinging on for dear life, gasping for air. ?What's Chinese for asshole? Oh, fuck it. Just die!? his anger squeezed out of him and it took all his focus just to direct it at the bubble, to solidify it more and more until guns, missiles, not even a damn nuke could blast into it. Rain Rider roared through the bubble, pounded, and kicked until he fell to his knees any ounce of fight in him gone. He fell to the floor and slowly the air out of his lungs ceased. He took a failed gulp for air one last time. 

The hero stood focused on the bubble, until the villain vanished inside, sealed in with telekinetic energy. Maximum didn't notice the air around him steam and a figure appeared behind him. A hard hand gripped his shoulder and Maximum turned to see a tall figure, wrapped in navy and silver armor. A tank was strapped to his back that was attached to pipes that connected to the man's arms, into heavy gauntlets that glowed blue as the man rose one and a cloud of ice appeared, wrapping the telekinetic bubble in an icy ball. The man's helmet let out steam and his eyes hummed blue as he spoke. ?It's over now kid. Let it go.? a modulated voice.

Maximum didn't hear him, only kept locking onto the bubble. It was until someone through the crowd yelled and he turned. The voice was familiar. A familiar face, in a cast and Mara beside him, stared at him. Daniel. Daniel put up a hand. It's okay now.

Maximum fell to the grass, shivering, fatigue finally setting in Police officers appeared around the bubble and the armored man approached the nearest officer. ?The man in that is a hydrokinetic. He can turn into and manipulate water. Trap him into a sealed container and keep him under the ice.?

The officer, too in awe over the giant man, could only nod before jogging towards his partners. Cold's Gate, the armored cryokinetic turned to Maximum, but by then, he was already walking off, searching. Searching for her. All around him, paramedics and officers ran across the park. So many gurneys appeared that MAximum thought he was too late. He was too late. Behind the oxygen mask and CPR, he saw her. He was at her side in seconds, through the EMTs that jumped when he appeared. A mask fell over the woman's mouth before an EMT nudged him back. ?It's okay. She'll be alright.? like the man was reading his mind.

He watched them trail away then felt it. The searing pain, but not physical. Like a wave of emotion hitting him, strangling his stomach until tears formed in his eyes. He was too late. People weren't supposed to get hurt this time. Too many got hurt. What if someone??

Before Cold's Gate could approach him, Maximum shot off into the sky, disappearing into the sky of fireworks.

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