Superheroes

Super Prologue

Dear readers,

Note: This story contains characters inspired by Pixar's Incredibles.

~

There was a thunderstorm the night Dr. Whitman decided to forgo his identity and disappear, leaving behind nothing but ashes of his townhouse. Nausea threatened to surface but he knew there was no time to get hysterical.

He glanced at his townhouse in raging flames despite of the drizzle and lightening. The synchronous sound of fire and thunder was beautiful to say the least. It was like a dangerous opera performance. If only Dr. Whitman had time to bask in its glory.

He took the last train of the day from his city, Insignis to Capital City. He had already hidden his life's work safely. Only one person would ever have the authority to retrieve it. His sister's daughter. He hoped the circumstance would never come. It was better for the truth to get lost. At least his niece would be able to lead a normal life without any supernatural surprises.

He thought of the letter he had mailed to his niece earlier that day and felt a pang in the chest at the thought of never seeing her again. Her safety was more important. He had promised his sister that he would protect her, no matter what. Even if he didn't get to see her again.

The train stopped abruptly with a jolt.

Oh no, Dr. Whitman sighed. Is it too late?

~

Murmurs were raised by the passengers as the train came to a halt. It was sad that innocent blood was going to be spilled but that was only collateral damage as far as the man could see. It would have been better if the doctor had left in a private vehicle. 

It was not a big deal for the man to kill a bunch of people but the whole ordeal was just messy and he wasn't in a mood. All he wanted, was to get that wretched storage drive that was so precious to the Boss, finish the doctor and return to reruns of Daredevil. The man looked at the dead train driver. It had been a clean shot, a bullet right between his eyes. Now, he had to kill a few more people. 

The man entered the only passengers' compartment and assessed the situation in front of him. There were seven people in total- Oh joy, seven was his lucky number- a couple of middle aged women with their respective men partners, a teenager with his earphones on, a man who seemed either homeless or unemployed at the very least and the doctor. The couples looked at him warily, the teenager took out his earphones, the homeless man merely gave a sigh but it was the doctor the man was interested in particularly. The doctor went rigid, a hand reaching inside the jacket, eyes narrowed. Well well, so the doctor wasn't ready to go down without a fight.

"I am sorry folks," The man addressed them with a sheepish smile, "there has been some mechanical difficulty and our driver and I are trying to communicate with the headquarters. It might take some time before the train starts again."

The man was pretty sure those passengers were convinced that he was one of the train authorities, except the doctor who stiffened even more. Then it all happened at once. The exact moment people relaxed, he took out both his guns, quickly shot four of the passengers- the teenager, two men and one woman- and looked at the doctor holding a gun at him. The second woman had probably gone in shock because she wasn't screaming but her eyes had gone wide and bloodshot at the sight of her companions lying dead on the train compartment floor.

"What -", started the homeless guy in a breathless hoarse whisper, gaping.

The man shot him too without taking his eyes and gun off the doctor.

"Hello Doctor," the man said with a smile, one gun pointed at the doctor and the other one pointed at the woman now, "so you expected something like this to happen, huh? That is good. Caution is always good. Alas, it is not going to help you much unless..."

"What do you want?" asked Dr. Whitman, "Why are you doing this? What did we ever do to you?"

So the doctor was going to play clueless. The tactic wasn't exactly new or efficient. Still, the man decided to play along. "I am here for the storage drive Dr. Whitman. Hand it over."

"I don't have any such drive", professed Dr. Whitman.

"Well, my boss thinks otherwise. And my resources tell me that you are in fact carrying a particular storage drive with you right now," the man clicked his tongue. "Just hand the drive over to me, Doc. There is literally nothing you can do."

~

Dr. Whitman's hand tightened over his gun. He looked at the assassin and knew that the woman was not going to make it out alive as well. He hadn't thought that innocent people would be paying the price for his crimes, for his misdeeds. The drive he carried consisted of a series of codes pointing to the whereabouts of the entire truth.  He had destroyed most of his research work and any pieces of evidence related to it. No one would ever be able to misuse his work. Except... He couldn't think about her at this moment. But everything was connected to her. He just hoped she would never find anything out and live her life peacefully. 

Dr. Whitman reached for the storage drive out of his jacket's inside pocket. He thought of his work and how spectacular the discovery of his research would have been if it hadn't been for that single accident so many years ago. He also didn't understand how news of that accident had reached the assassin's boss. The accident had happened a couple of decades ago. It made no sense unless... No, it was impossible! 

Crack!

The woman who had seemed to be in shock lied beside her partner, blood oozing out from between her eyebrows, dead. "First lesson of defense, do not zone out or you will be dead before you know it", deadpanned the assassin, "In your case, someone else is dead. Semantics. I know, you scientists are stereotyped for zoning out but this situation hardly qualifies as a time for it."

Dr. Whitman, though scared, was puzzled. Why had the assassin not shot him directly? Why all the drama? It dawned on him then that in the possibility that he didn't have any storage drive, the assassin was instructed to bring him alive to the boss. The thought was more horrifying than death. He did not want to hand over the drive but neither could he hand himself over. Maybe it was time to unleash his madness or maybe he was just desperate when Dr. Whitman decided to take the small square-shaped storage drive out of his pocket, keep it on the seat beside him, point his gun at it and fire. 

~

The assassin looked at the scene unfolding in front of him with horror in his eyes as the doctor pointed the gun at himself next with a vacant look in his eyes. It took only a moment before there was a loud crack of the gunshot and the doctor fell heavily, blood and brains splattered all over on the compartment floor beside the other bodies. What the hell! 

The doctor had destroyed the drive and killed himself. A chill ran down the assassin's spine as he thought of the Boss's reaction. He had failed in his mission and was going to have to face the consequences. He thought of running away but knew that was not going to work. He was likely a dead man too. Soon enough. 

Before fleeing from the scene, the assassin decided to checked the remnants of that wretched storage drive and came across one word- Genesis.

~

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