Incredible Times

Chapter 1

"...Reports from eyewitnesses and city officials confirm that a local drugstore has just been broken into. The two suspects appear to have stolen all of the cash in the registers, as well as a large quantity of office supplies, specifically, multiple boxes of thumbtacks..."

Thumbtacks? I repeat in my head. That's a new one.

I stand on one side of the street, surrounded by numerous people. They are all trying to talk to me, but my focus is only on the police scanner that is being played in a nearby car.

"...criminals were last seen on Park Avenue, and are believed to be making their way to the north side of the city..."

Park Avenue. From where I'm at, Park Avenue is about ten blocks away. And if they're headed north, they'll probably reach the Central Plaza in... three minutes? Perfect.

"Elastigirl?" a woman's voice croaks.

I shake myself from my developing plan of action, and turn towards the voice that spoke to me. Lying on a stretcher is a young boy about 10 years old, and standing near him, a middle-aged woman, who I assume to be his mother. She holds a handkerchief to her chest, and her eyes are wet with tears.

"I... I can never th-thank you enough for saving Tristan's l-life," she manages to stutter.

Tristan tries his best to sit up, but begins to cough uncontrollably. His mother immediately lies him back down. Realizing the limits of his current state, Tristan mumbles from his lying position, "Thanks, Elastigirl."

Only ten minutes ago, the apartment building that Tristan and his mother lived in was on fire. I was making my rounds about Metroville, when I heard the blare of fire truck and ambulance sirens. I bounded down the streets, following the noise until I came to the burning building.

To my horror, the first thing I noticed was a figure standing on the railing of the ninth floor balcony. One moment the figure was still, the next, it was hurtling towards the pavement at an alarming speed.

Without hesitation, I hoisted myself onto a nearby streetlamp, and at precisely the right moment, I launched myself in the direction of the falling boy.

Tristan and I collided about 20 feet off the ground, and I grunted in exertion as I tightly wrapped my arms around him.

I immediately willed my body to take the form of a parachute, and gently, we floated the short distance down to the ground. Tristan was escorted from my arms towards a fleet of medics, and I was bombarded by the media, questions and camera flashes stimulating my senses.

Now, with the fire put out and the victims taken care of, I stand in front of Tristan at a loss for words. I squat so I can look him in the eye.

After a brief moment, I finally manage to offer a few words. "I'm glad that you're okay Tristan. What you did today was very brave. I'm sure your mother would agree." She nods vigorously, holding the handkerchief to her face as an onslaught of tears threatens to spill over. "But, what you did was also very reckless. I want you to remember that there won't always be someone there to help you. Do you understand?"

He slowly nods, as if it takes all of his strength to do so.

"Good." I stand up and say in a low voice, only so his mother can hear, "There really is no need to thank me. I'm only doing my job. I think anyone would have done anything to make sure he got down safely. But what I told him is true. We," I open my hands and gesture to the surrounding area, indicating all those involved in the rescue, "can't always be there to save him."

She nods again, unable to speak. I touch her lightly on the arm, and then glance down at my watch. Two minutes.

"Look, I have to get going now, but I'm glad you folks are alright. Stay safe, and get well soon, okay?"