Silver Storm

PART ONE-THE FAME

To KAITLYN BEAUREGARD
Started January 20, 2016
Finished February 29, 2016

Inspired by the 2010 and 2013 Lionsgate films "Kick-Ass" and "Kick-Ass 2"
STORM PRODUCTIONS PRESENTS-SILVER STORM

PART ONE-
THE FAME

CHAPTER ONE-What I Thought-December 17, 2014, 6:45 A.M., Lansdale, Pennsylvania I was enjoying a calm and relaxing sleep. Well, until my alarm clock went off. Why did 6:45 A.M. have to be the time already? I grunted in frustration. Everyone in the house was still asleep, and it was just another typical Wednesday. I got out of bed, so groggy that most people would've thought I was drunk. To the shower I went, school attire in hand, hope in my heart, boredom floating in the foggy swamp otherwise known as my brain. It was less than thirty degrees outside, and I was completely frigid. I was hoping for the water in the shower to be warm, and (surprise, surprise) it was not. I sighed, waking up slower than ever.
     While I was done cleaning myself, I thought about how much school sucked. It was SO boring, mainly because every subject except English was a breeze. Or, actually, more like Hurricane Katrina, if you get the reference.
     After I had finished showering, I threw on a pair of clean underwear and jeans as well as a bleached Nirvana shirt and some black Nike socks with the swooshes in front. I didn't have time to eat. I honestly don't care if you call me anorexic, but I thought one hundred sixteen pounds was too much for my size. That's just the way I felt. With that, I brushed my hair and teeth, picked up my phone from its charging port, put on a sweatshirt, and walked to my bus stop.
     Bus rides are always boring in the morning, at least for me. I tried to keep myself awake my listening to my idol, Lorde. People at school made fun of her all the time, saying she hated on rappers and pop artists. They didn't understand the deeper meaning of her lyrics and what they meant. What can I say; most people that attended my school were dumber than dirt.
Before I begin rambling on about my personal life, allow me to introduce myself, if you will. The name's Kurt McCready. I go by X-man, as my homies call me. I honestly don't care what you call me, as long as it's not Mr. Mackey, m'kay? I've got some good features and some bad features, like everyone else. My eyes are a deep forest green, I'm about five and a half feet tall, I have straight blonde hair, I sometimes wear glasses, and I'm a music junky. That's all you really need to know about me for now.
     To be a hundred percent honest, I was fairly comfortable with myself, even though I got teased a lot. But she wasn't all I listened to. In the last few months, I had expressed an interest in the grunge genre. You know-Nirvana, Rancid, Green Day, White Stripes, Pixies, Nine Inch Nails, I liked all that good gritty nineties. But, unfortunately, the bus pulled up to my school and I was forced to stop tuning the bass quality on my lame iPhone headphones. Also, I was still half asleep. Oh well. Time to get the day over with.
     First, I had my least favorite subject, English. Well, that's kind of a lie because I normally liked it, I just had a sixty-eight in the class and I hated myself because of it. All I did was talk to my friend Ethan Brown to try to stay awake. It didn't help that my teacher probably had the most monotonous voice on the face of the earth. Fortunately, no homework was given that day for the class. I'm not even going to summarize the next two classes. They are pointless.
     Anyway, lunch was cool as always. I chilled with my best bros, Anthony, Darsh, and Steven. We did the eraser challenge, which wasn't all that interesting. If you don't know what that is, you simply use an everyday eraser and erase your skin for a random amount of time. I don't know why I bothered to participate in the challenge, mainly because of the nasty welt I got in my wrist. After lunch, I had math, which was kind of interesting. I had some good friends in there. Plus, there was a sexy redhead named Hannah I had a massive crush on since the year before. We spoke now and then, but I was pretty sure she was dating my man Dylan. So I just told the world I loved Ella Yelich O'Connor, which was a massive mistake, getting both her and myself made fun of. The rest of the day went smoothly, other than being pretty boring.
     That's when my legacy began. I was on my way to my locker after we had been dismissed and the school day was over. I bumped into my nemesis, Antonio Braden when I went to turn to open my storage compartment. I hated that pompous. You know what they say-never trust a guy with two first names. He thought he was big shit, and that was just the kind of person I found the most annoying. Antonio also freaked out over the dumbest stuff, and this was no exception. He stared me down and fired some nasty garbage at me.
"What the fuck are you looking at?"
Normally, I would've ignored him, but he'd bothered me since the beginning of the school year and I had had enough. So I gave him a taste of his own medicine.
"Sorry bro, last time I checked, your face had a sign on it saying 'shoot me'".
     He freaked when I said that.
"Fight me, pussy!"
     "You ain't worth nothing!" I yelled back at him.
     "Fight me tonight then, bitch! The park at 3:15 P.M.! I wanna see your fake-ass face there. Don't back down, if you're not too scared!"
    "Whatever, tough guy! You'll be crying soon enough!" He shoved me walking away, and that's when something inside me sparked and set a fuse off. I needed to prove that he was just a coward. He was scared of me, and I knew just how to prove it.
     I was a massive fan of both of the "Kick-Ass" movies, and I thought all the characters were equally cool. Hit-Girl was perhaps just a bit cooler than the rest though. You can't really say otherwise about someone who rides a purple motorcycle and kills people for a living. The way I would defeat A.B. would be simple. Everyone called him that because of his initials, obviously. I'd become my own kickass superhero. He'd piss himself in complete fear. I laughed at the thought.
     When the bus dropped me off at my stop, I headed up the hill with my acquaintances by the names of Sean, Jacob, and Christian. None of us really said anything on the way up. I didn't have much to think about, anyway. My superhero was all I was concerned with at the moment. My parents were divorced, and I saw no car in the driveway when I neared my house. Perfect! My mom must have been at the store or something. But who cares? I had work to do.
     I stealthily entered the home, making sure no one inhabited the place, at least for now. The next step was the family computer. I grabbed it and logged onto the Internet. My first place of business was eBay. Apparently, there was a recent update that allowed you to construct things from scratch and see how much it would cost after you completed construction. When the costume was complete, it had come with a T-shirt, bulletproof vest, coat, cape, socks, shoes, gloves, and a blank mask that came with finger and spray paint. The total was $39.64, not including $6.00 shipping and handling. That was pretty reasonable, at least for an online purchase. Finally, I went to the Modern Tactical webpage and got a few handguns. Those were far more expensive at $198.98. Fortunately for me, that proved that birthday money was invented for a reason. I had gotten two fifty for my birthday, so I handled both purchases with it. What a relief to know I had that available. And I had picked a name for myself. I was going to be what everyone feared-mist and loudness-Silver Storm.
     Now that the complete costume was set, I took a seat on the couch and recorded a few novelty episodes of "Family Guy". I guess if I was about to become a supreme symbol of justice, then I should get my shit together. And I did just that, organizing TV shows and daydreaming. I didn't have to do either of those for long, as I soon heard a knock at the door.
     My heart rapidly picked up speed and I began sweating uncontrollably. I opened the front door and looked out through the screen to see a UPS truck driving away and two boxes left on the front step. The time had come for me to bring these bad boys into the house. And that is just what I did. There was a large box, which I hauled into the house first. It was far from fun, no thanks to my tiny doorway and clunky wooden door. The small box was obviously easier to bring in, and I could carry it instead of having to drag it. I picked up a pair of sharp scissors and plunged them into the larger box. Since I had no nails (I apologize for being a nail-biter), I ripped open the first box after creating a large enough hole with the scissors for me to handle. What was inside was something legendary.
     Everything looked so fresh. I immediately took out the mask and finger and spray paint. I imprinted black lines through the eye slits with the finger paint and sprayed red lightning bolts on all sides of the mask. Man, it looked sick. I quickly swapped my current shirt for the one that had "Silver Storm" engraved it. It was an excellent fit, as were the socks and the bulletproof vest. I left my jeans on so I could transport weapons and whatnot. The cape was already attached to the coat, which I was thankful for, knowing that I wouldn't have to struggle with assembling it. The shoes were fairly similar to my current pair, but they were more designed for basketball. Gloves were a great fit, and I had everything on at this point. I grabbed my iPhone 5C and downloaded a new app that was accessed via Instagram. It was called EnemyTracker, and it was designed for exactly what its name states. Before leaving, I grabbed an apple, a turkey sandwich, and a lemon-lime Gatorade. I wasn't all that hungry, but I didn't want to show up and be starving.
After my quick snack, I booted up this new bro on campus called EnemyTracker. A.B. was such a fucking liar. He wasn't waiting at the school. He was at Stephanie Laeirin's house along with Candy Davis, Conner Duncan, and Bronson Chance, some of my "favorite" people. They were all equally stupid, and I knew both of those girls since last year. I had been unfortunately informed that those two were the biggest sluts in the whole school. I would imagine that those rumors were true, as they would always be walking around school with freaking cameltoes and their nipples showing through their really short shirts. They disgusted me. This wasn't because they were slutty, it was because they were dumb and willing to blow anybody, pretty much. A.B. did not know I knew where he was, and I knew this after receiving a text message from the scrub. "Skippin your fight ain't you bitch"
     His poor grammar also disgusted me. How did he get my number? I may never know. I shot him back a message.
"I know you're not where you say you are. Don't worry. It will all be over soon. Say your goodbyes."
     He spammed me with freakish messages after that.
"Wtf bruh I was for real on that why the fuck did you run into me"
     I set a GPS route on my phone to his location before replying.
"As I said before, do not stress. I'm coming for you." Instead of waiting for a response, I tucked my phone into my jeans pocket and my Gatorade into my cape. I also grabbed a few butcher knives from the kitchen drawers of the house as well as my pistols. I popped in my headphones and cranked my volume up on "American Idiot" as I stepped out into the brisk December evening.
     My destination was roughly two miles from my house. I cut through some backyards, watching EnemyTracker idiotically recalculate the route. I saw a few people pressed to their back windows holding cell phones, so I inferred that I was on tape. I waved politely and continued on my course. 0.7 miles to go. I made a left and received another text from A.B..
     "The fuck are you"
    I laughed at his cowardice.
"Half a mile from the shed. Be prepared."
     He never responded after that. What a vagina, being all petrified. But he should be. For once, I had confidence. I believed that I was a force to be reckoned with.
     EnemyTracker reported that I had arrived at 297 Winter Street, which was the correct address. The signal of my actual destination wasn't coming from the house itself, it was coming from a run-down wooden shack at the back of the yard. I cocked a pistol as I headed back there in the late afternoon sun. I could smell something funky, sort of like sulfur and rubber. I had smelled this only once before at a Lorde concert in September. It was marijuana, and a huge amount of it. The scent became more potent the nearer I drew to the shed. I peered through the side window to get an extremely gruesome image of Candy sucking a throbbing penis and having another shoved in her rear end. I almost vomited big-time. Enough bullshit. They were going to pay. I banged on the dingy door. Through a crack in the wood, I could see A.B. put on jeans and head to the door shirtless, some fluid on his chest that I most likely would want nothing to do with.
He opened the door, cracking a smile. "Sorry bro, Halloween was a while ago." I could hear those other sorry excuses of teenagers snickering in the background, and Candy was still riding one of their dicks as well.
     I tried to avoid vomiting (again) when I asked a dumb question, pretending I never knew A.B..
"Is there an Antonio Braden here?"
     He was obviously already high, and I could tell.
"No, why?"
     "I have a package delivery for him."
A.B. sucked at covering for himself.
"I can give it to him if you want."
     I reached behind my back as if I had something. "Happy holidays," I said angrily through gritted teeth and plunged my fist into A.B.'s cheekbone. Blood spurted from his mouth, and he had an absolute cow.
"Bruh, that's it. You didn't come to give me no fucking package! Who the fuck do you think you are?"
     I chuckled.
"I know very well who I am. You are looking at your worst nightmare-Silver Storm."
     He wiped his bloody nose.
"You wanna go?" Conner and Bronson stood up behind him, ripping joints from their mouths and flexing their muscles. The two topless twats followed closely behind, with only thongs on. Ugh, were they filthy. I motioned to the multiple boxes of marijuana in the shed.
"If you wouldn't be harming yourselves, I wouldn't be here right now."
     "YOU'RE DEAD!" Bronson yelled at the top of his lungs.
     "Bring it," I said smoothly.
     I dodged A.B. as he took a swing at my ribs. I pulled out my RK5 quickdraw pistol and attempted to blow up as many boxes of weed as I could. The fifteen-round magazine of the RK5 destroyed four of ten before I had to reload. It was then that Stephanie jumped on me, squealing like a hideous animal. I took my RK5 and smashed it over her head.
"Stay off my cape, bitch!" She fell to the ground, a huge scratch running down her head. Bronson then came charging at me with his fist raised. I scrambled for a butcher knife, dodged his attack, and stabbed him directly in the testicles. He was left stunned and bleeding out. I removed the knife to hunt down A.B., a menacing look upon my face and fresh blood dripping from the knife. Where had he gone?
     I honestly had no idea where he had taken off to. But how did he disappear so quickly? Just as I was about to put my gun down, he tackled me from behind. We both fell to the ground, and he landed on top of me, in which he continuously punched me in the nose. The pain got worse with each hit. I wasn't gonna lie. He was pretty strong. I tried to kick him, but he had me pinned. My face was numb, but I told myself I had to finish him off. And that was just what did. I dodged his next punch, flipped over, and shoved the toes of my SS shoes into his stomach. A.B. crumpled up into a ball and his face turned green as he vomited yellowish fluid and blood onto the once-healthy grass.
     I turned to the girls.
"Well, it didn't have to come to this. What a pity. You see, sex has disadvantages."
Candy asked just one question in between sniffs, probably rotting away from all that grass.
"How the hell did you find us?"
I wiped blood from my nose and took a sip of Gatorade.
"Two words-Enemy Tracker."
Stephanie sobbed, wishing she hadn't done this.
"What about Conner?"
"He's chill. I sent him home with a couple bruises while you sluts put on underpants."
I turned back to A.B..
"Dude...who the fuck are you? R-r-really?"
I sighed.
"Just think about all the fights you could've prevented if it weren't for your stupid aggression towards all people. Then you'll realize the only person you know who has enough brains to want that to be put to an end."
He sputtered at the pistol pointed at his head, milliseconds from causing his death, unable to speak. I shot him directly in the forehead with zero regrets. Next step was to rid myself of these hoes. I jogged over to the Laeirin home and grabbed a container of lawnmower fuel from an equipment rack. To complete the process, I snatched the smoke lighter from Candy.
"You two skanks are gonna do me a favor." I shoved them roughly into the shed. Lawnmower fluid was deposited all over the floor, followed by a smashing of the lighter. I was in awe as it burst into flames. The girls huddled together to stay as far as they could from the fire. I stood at the doorway, feeling pleasure from their suffering. "You two take care. And don't worry. Your parents wont find any remains of either of you. Merry Christmas, folks!" I snickered and turned to leave when something fell from the roof of the shed. It appeared to be a camera of some sort. I picked it up and sprinted away from the shed as it exploded with fury, fire spreading quickly to the house. Check that mofo of the list of things to do.