Marvelous Bob

by Michael Buonauro
CURRENT STORYLINE
Part I
Part II
Part III
Part IV
Part V
Part VI
Part VII
Part VIII
FAMILY
Part I
Part II
Part III
TEENAGE FLASHBACK
Part I
Part II
COLLEGE FLASHBACK
Part I
Part II
BOB GOES PUBLIC FLASHBACK
Part I
THE END
The End
Last Entry
Part I

I make my way back to the apartment. I don’t see any reason to fly; I’m not in a hurry, so I take
the train.

It’s the standard reaction, people want to shake my hand, sometimes they thank me for
something I did for them. I try and remember all their names, and I usually do. That’s not the
powers, I’ve always been able to do that.

Shit.

Some of the falling beams tore my jacket. It’s a big gash, too, right across the back. Damn it,
this was a good jacket.

I don’t wear a costume, or a cape, or any of that garbage, and because of that, sometimes my
regular clothes take a lot of damage. I don’t wear a mask, either.

I try and smile for the people, some of them offer me money, but I never take it.

Not that I couldn’t use it, rent is due in a week and it’s obvious that this rag is beyond repair.

I get off at the next stop, it’s not mine, I just want to get away from the people. Right before I
take to the air, I hear a siren, and a little girl cry.

Looks like I have something to do after all.

I follow the sounds, and I find a bank, there are police cars all around it, keeping the crowds
away from the street.

I land nearby and walk over to the officer in charge. I think his name is Henry.

The cops hate it when I land near their cars, I don’t know why. Henry hates me because I’m not
a cop.

I can hear the crowd saying my name, and it’s with a sense of relief, I actually hear a man say
"It’s over now, Bob’s going to show those fuckers how it’s done in our town!"

It makes me proud to hear that sometimes, but then I always have this fear that I’m going to fail
again, and who knows what that’s going to cost us.

"Bob."
I walk over to Henry. He’s talking to another officer and some men in black suits, I don’t know
them, but I get a flash of some badges and some mumbling. They’re FBI.

"Marvelous Bob! Pleasure to meet you, I’m Dibney, this is my partner Holks."

Holks says nothing as I shake his hand.

"What we’ve got here, Bobbo, is—"

I’m not even looking at them, I’m looking in to the bank, but I can hear someone say, "Bob. Call
him Bob, or Marvelous Bob, but show some respect."

"I didn’t mean anything by it, I was just trying to be friendly…"

He continues to explain, oblivious to the fact that I’m not even there anymore.

When I looked into the bank I saw the little girl, and behind her the source of her cries.

A "super villain."

I hate that shit.

They’ve been popping up around the city the past few years, this guy is new, and his first act is
to hold a little girl hostage? I can see some blood on a knife in his hand, there are bodies on the
ground all around him, and a quick check shows the girl’s got a cut on her neck that’s getting
bigger.

I’m in no mood for this shit. I stop his heart, he falls down dead, and it’s done.

I turn and tell Henry that it’s clear, they can go in and get the remaining people, bring the
medics, and I turn to leave.

That’s when I hear Dibney quietly say, "He dead?"

Yes.

"I heard you do that sometimes. Kill them."

I explain about the little girl and the bodies.

"How many have you killed?"

As many as I have to.

That's not an answer and it's clear he has more questions, but with that, I fly off. I want to go
home.

Let the city deal with itself for a few hours.

I’ve got problems of my own, anyway.

Laura’s gone.

She’s not coming back.

I come in through the window, and I can see the letter she left me.

I don’t read it. I don’t have to; I know what it says.

She left all the lights on. Funny girl.

I don’t use lights. I don’t need them, and, to tell you the truth, unless I concentrate, they make
my eyes sting.

I should get some goggles or something.

I’m still pissed about the jacket, and without thinking, I cause all the lights to burst out.

I also notice that she’s left all the bills for the month.

So that’s it. All her stuff is gone. Two years together, and now it’s gone.

She couldn’t have waited two hours?

Two fucking hours?

She never understood that I had to do the things I do.

I met her the same way I meet everyone. I saved her.

It was a car-jacking. Just as I was walking by, this idiot was trying to pull a car-jacking in my
town.

I knocked the guy out, and took him down to the station before she even knew I was there.

I returned to check on her, and she offered to buy me dinner.

We ate together every night after that.

Until tonight.

She asked me not to go once. I tried to explain it to her, but she just got angry and stormed off.

Turned out to be a bomb in a building. I found it, but I didn’t know how to defuse it, and time was
short, so I flew it out of town as fast as I could.

Very little property damage, but no lives lost.

When I got home she wasn’t there. She came home later that night, drunk.

I knew she had been with another man. I could tell. I saw it in her mind.

Thanks, powers.

I hope she’s with him now, maybe happier than I could ever have made her.

I decide to go to sleep, and right before I do, I hear a woman scream from down the block.

I can almost hear Laura saying "Don’t go, stay with me" as I fly out of bed and then the window.

I get there too late.

The screaming has stopped mid-scream, and a woman is dead.

I land and I see her face. I know this woman. I try to remember everyone I save.

I saved her from a car-jacking once.

Part II

"I heard about the bank."

She always does this. It’s been two weeks, and now, over coffee, I’m going to get the Big Sister
Lecture.

But that’s Maria.

"I know we’ve talked about this before. I thought we agreed that you weren’t going to kill
people."

The bank wasn’t people. It was a guy like me, with powers, and if I didn’t stop him then and
there, who knows the damage he could have done.

"But you didn’t have to kill him."

I try to explain that there wasn’t time to think of other options. He was slitting a little girl’s throat,
she was going to die. I picked her life over his, and I’ll do it again when I have to.

She’s silent now. That means she’s pissed. She’s just looking at me.

Please don’t tell mom.

I say it in the same way I used to when I was five. It always worked then.

"I won’t."

But she’s still angry, there’s something else she wants to say.

"Bob..."

I’m fine.

"You don’t know I was even going to ask you anything. You said you couldn’t read my mind."

I don’t need to read your mind to see that you want to know about Laura. She’s dead. After her, I
found three more, and each time I was too late to even watch them die, let alone try to save
them.

"How did she die? It’s not in the paper, it just says she and other people who know you are
dead."
Her heart exploded.

And it’s not "other people" it’s only women. So far.

I don't want to talk about this now.

So I ask about mom.

She’s still quiet. She wants to talk about it some more. She always does this.

She answers me anyway.

"Better. You should go see her."

I promise that I will.

"You should go see Frank, too."

This time I'm the one who's quiet.

Then I hear a scream.

"Go on, I’ve got this."

Shit, the check. I didn’t even bring my wallet.

But there’s still the scream.

I give her a look that says "I’ll pay you back" and she gives me one that says "I know you won’t,
and you don’t have to, either".

She always does that.

I follow the sound of the screaming. They’ve turned to cries now.

I can hear a voice asking God why.

I see a crowd of people, and they slowly part as I land.

Then it’s quiet.

She’s dead.
I can see inside her chest. It’s her heart, just like the others.

Hello, Linda.

Haven’t seen you in a while.

So how’re things?

But her corpse doesn’t give me any answers, and the flight to the morgue is a quiet one.

When I get home, there’s a message on the machine.

"Bob, hi, this is UltraVac... we met at that thing at the bridge last year? Only, I was MightyVac
then. Anyway, a couple of guys and I were talking and we were thinking about putting a group
together, and your name came up. So, if you’re interested... uhm, gimmie a call at 555-2952 and
let me know."

I remember the thing at the bridge.

I also remember that guy’s costume.

I won’t be calling him back.

I check the frige, grab a quick swig of milk, and head downstairs to see Jenkins.

My rent is late. Again.

He makes sure to remind me about the late fee. Again.

He’s a good man, though.

Over Christmas he had everyone in the building down to his place for a party.

I wasn’t there, there was something going on at the power station, but Laura said it was very
nice.

Damnit.
Part III

Once a month I go down to the University for testing. A lot of us with powers do.

They, those without powers, wonder why we have them.

And so do I.

It was through these monthly tests that I met Alex.

I don’t agree with everything he does, he wears a cape and a stupid mask, he’s got a secret
identity.

But we have an understanding.

The scientists and doctors say that while everyone has different powers, mine being the most
unique they’ve seen, all of our powers must originate from the same source because

A) We’re all male. Nobody knows why, but there hasn’t been a woman with powers ever found.

and

B) We’re all sterile. Not one of us has a little soldier with any ammo in the gun.

The current theory is that it’s genetic.

Each month, after the tests, Alex and I go to lunch.

He always goes in costume, because, as he says "If Alex Wiffers were seen having lunch with
Marvelous Bob, what would people think?"

They would think we were friends.

And we are.

It’s good to have someone to talk to about what we do.

Even if he is a "super hero".

Today is a special lunch, though. Today I don’t just need company, I need a favor.

Alex has only one power, but it’s a doozy. He can travel through time.
The catch, and there’s always a catch, is that however far he travels, he ages.

That’s why I’m having lunch with a seventy-year-old man in spandex.

"Bob, I would love to help you, I really would, but it’s my heart."

I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t really need it.

"We’re friends, man, old friends…"

He laughs a little there, a small joke on himself.

It’s the first time I’ve seen him smile today.

Sometimes I feel really sorry for him, but there’s nothing I can do.

"But there are some things I can’t even do for you. I don’t even know if I could."

He’s quiet, and before I can say anything, he hits me with some more news.

"I’m dying, Bob."

We’re all dying. I realize how stupid that is, even before I finish saying it.

"No, Bob, not like me. I know when, and I know where."

So he tells me.

Last night Alex woke up to a crash, only to see an older version of himself sitting in a chair in his
little one room apartment.

Startled, he went towards this new Alex, only to find him bloody and aged to death, and, as if
that weren’t enough, there was a letter.

For me.

He hands it to me, and sits there expectantly. He wants me to open it.

I want me to open it.

But something in the back of my head says not to.

A mental alarm goes off just as I stick a finger under the flap to tear it open, a signal that very
clearly says "NOT HERE".

I’ve learned to follow those signals.

Alex doesn’t understand, and I don’t think I can expect him to.

He died for this letter.

He died for me.

I put my finger back under the flap, and that’s when the world explodes around me.

It must be a bomb.

No, more than one.

All around us, they go off, and the light…

The light is blinding.

My first thought is that I should have bought those damn goggles.

My second thought is for Alex.

I still can’t see, but I call out for him. I don’t get a response.

I can hear people moving around, a lot of people.

There’s no way normal people could have survived that, they’ve got to be powered.

It was a trap.

I can hear Alex calling to me now, then a crunch, and a scream.

Hands grab me. Me!

It should be simple enough to shrug them off and get to Alex.

But for some reason, it’s not.

They hit me. Hard.

I’m being held down, and Alex has stopped screaming.

They hit me again, must be more than one person.

I still can’t see, but I can feel blood on my face.

The world goes quiet as I black out.

No one even notices the letter disappear.

Part IV

My name is Alex Wiffers and tomorrow I will be in an explosion with my good friend, Bob.
Lots of blasts and lights and, I would imagine, it will all be very interesting.

If you aren't sitting in the middle of it.

Which I was.

I'm a Super Hero, and this wasn't the first time I've been in danger, surely not the first time I've
teamed with Bob.

But this is the first time I've fought other Powered, and this is the first time I've ever seen
anybody lay Bob out like that.

What about me, you ask?

Oh, I got it pretty good.

In fact, I'm going to die, but I'm getting ahead of myself.

Hah.

Little joke there.

Let me fill you in, we've got the time.

'Nother joke there.

I was born twelve years ago, next week, happy birthday to me.

How does a twelve year old boy get an old man's body and mind?

Welcome to Time Travel: The Hard Way.

I can move around through time, and as I go, I age, day for day, year for year.

It's a living.

I usually jump forward a minute or two, sometimes more, and that's how I get ahead of the
crooks.

The jokes are my way of passing time, so you'll have to bear with me.
Jumping back is harder, and I don't like doing it. I usually take at least twice the wear and tear
when I do that, and it leaves me a little muddled and unfocused.

Biggest jump I ever did was back four years, and that was special, just for Bob.

Kinda like this one's for Bob.

He doesn't know about the first one, and he won't know about the next one until tomorrow when
I tell him.

Last thing that happened, that will happen, when I was with him, is I was trashed. My body's
pretty much beyond repair, and this jump isn't helping matters. Take a crushed body, add a few
days without medical attention, and you've got the way I'm going to die.

I even know when.

Sorry. I'll curb the jokes.

Just before I left, I gave Bob a letter, and I hoped he would open it. He didn't get the chance.

I got the letter from me, after I traveled through time to give it to me.

It sounds worse than it is.

When I got it, I thought it was part of some calculated thing, you know?

Bring the letter to myself as a last ditch effort to save the world?

I brought it to me, and it killed me, so I had hoped it would at least be important.

I still don't know what's in that damn envelope.

See, I know I'm going to die the second I enter time again, right there in my favorite chair (thank
you very much).

I die; my other self gets the letter, and takes it to Bob.

Enter problem number one.

My other self doesn't know it, but he's in a loop.

I didn't know it, so he won't know it.

He takes Bob the letter, the explosions make our day a little brighter, and, in his last act, all on
pure instinct, he's going to jump in time.

He jumps to the first point on his mind, and here's the big joke on me...

...he jumps to last night.

He jumps to when he got the letter, and that's when he, or me, whatever...

That's when I realize that I'm in a loop.

A loop I made, thanks for nothing.

So now we enter problem number two.

The problem I care a little more about than a stupid loop.

I'm gonna die.

Now, Mrs. Wiffers baby boy isn't stupid.

I've got a plan, and I think that given my current condition, that it's a pretty good one.

This time, when I land in that chair-o-mine, I'm going to say not "give Bob this letter", but
"destroy this letter".

That should take care of the loop, the letter, and everything else.

----

My name is Alex Wiffers, and I just saw something interesting.

Something most people will never get to see.

I saw myself, beaten and bloody and bruised and battered, appear in my favorite chair holding a
piece of paper (a letter actually), mutter something, and then dissipate.

I don't know exactly what to make of this, as I said, it's not really an everyday thing, not even for
me.

So I go to Bob.
He's seen almost everything you can see in this business; I heard he even had a place on the
moon once.

He's the best at this sort of thing, I look up to him more that he'll ever know, thank you very
much.

He's the guy you wanted to be when you were five.

He's the guy who does what you wished you had done when you had the chance, and what you
couldn't do when you tried.

He's my hero.

He's a Super Hero's hero.

You've got to love that sort of thing.

I have lunch with him after the tests, it's a thing we do.

I pay.

I'm sure he would if he could, but, let's face it, the guy's broke.

Hell, even if he did try to pay, I would jump back a minute or two and pay before him.

Principal of the thing and all that, thank you very much.

So I'm here at lunch with Bob, and he asks me for a favor, and I tell him I can't because I just
saw myself die and I think that whatever he wanted can wait until he takes a look at this.

So I give him the letter.

Part V

From the day of their conception, they’ve been called many things, but today, they’re only called
“the Squad”.

“Sir, I’m worried about the Squad. I don’t think they’re ready for this.”

I tell him that they’re ready. This is why they exist. This is their moment; this is where five years
of research pays off. They’re ready because we built them to be ready.

I can’t expect this man to understand what we’re doing here. He wasn’t part of the first project.
He wasn’t there for each trial. He has no idea how far we’ve come.

“Sir, I’ve gone over the tests myself, and I can tell you that even at their peak power-levels,
they’ll only have about half of his potential.”

I tell him not to worry.

Half of infinity is still infinity, son.

“Yes, sir.”

I watch him walk out of the room; his part in this is over.

I wonder, someday, will he tell his grandchildren what we did today? Will he tell them how he
was part of it all, how he warned the General before it all began?

Will he tell them about the day we killed Marvelous Bob?

----

As I look at the four of them, I can’t help but be impressed. Five years of strenuous work, not
just on the part of scientists, but on their part as well.

I would almost call them men, but I won’t.

I could never let myself believe that. They’re not even human. They’re part of his ilk.

And they’re going to kill him.

It has to be done.

He’s uncontrollable, he’s a vigilante. He needs to answer for his crimes.

We’re going to make him answer.

I wonder, sometimes, how much like him are they? Are they reading my thoughts right now? Is
he?

I’ve studied him, you know.

From the first time we got him on film, the first sound bite, everything there is to know.

I’ve written most of the theories on him, myself.

I used to wonder if he knew what we were doing.

It’s stupid, I know. If he knew, we would all be dead… scientists, generals, and the Squad.

Well, maybe not the Squad.

That’s what I’m betting on, what everyone is counting on; the Squad.

We know somewhat of what he can do, mostly what he’s admitted himself.

He can’t read the thoughts of his immediate family; he’s almost vulnerable under severely bright
lights…

There’s no method to his fighting, everything he does, it looks as if he just cruises through each
conflict, doing what he thinks is a good idea at the time.

That’s their edge.

They can focus their powers together. They have coordinated attacks. They work together
under constant telepathic contact with me.

They’ve trained specifically, I’ve seen to it personally, to kill him.

They’re the only ones who can.

They’re his clones.

The idea came from the most unlikely of places.

Like many other powered, he goes for testing each month.

With the government behind us, it wasn’t hard to acquire samples of his genetic material.

For five years, we’ve been pushing these clones, accelerating their growth, stuffing their minds
chock-full of information, ensuring their loyalty.

We started with twenty seven of them.

Four survived the process.

They don’t have names or numbers. They act as one unit, they practically think together. We’ve
never had this kind of power under our control before, we—

“Sir? Sir, it’s time.”

Alright, then. Where is he?

“In the middle of town, sir, a diner… Sir, are we still going to...”

This is war, son. People die in wars.

Send them.

They’re on him almost before I give the order.

I look at the monitors, and I can see them above the diner.

They’ve got miniature cameras on them, specially equipped to handle what we’re about to put
them through.

Squad: LIGHT.

For an instant, all the monitors flash white, but as the cameras adjust I can see the Squad, each
of them blazing like a new sun in the sky.

Squad: BRING THE HOUSE DOWN.

They move so fast, straight down through the roof, the dust makes it hazy, but I can make him
out.

He’s dazed, searching around for something.

There’s another one there, an old man in a costume... he’s fumbling around on the ground.
I don’t know this one, and there isn’t time to check just which side he’s on.

Squad: STOP THE ONE IN COSTUME, THEN DEAL WITH BOB.

One of them grabs the old man, breaks him.

I can sense the Squad momentarily confused as the old man disappears.

Squad: MOVE TO BOB, FORGET THE OLD MAN.

I watch as they grab him. Three of them hold him down, as one of them starts to hit him.

They all start to hit him.

And he’s taking it. He can’t get out of the grapple, but he’s not stopped.

I start to panic. What if it doesn’t work? What if he makes it through this and comes after us?

After me?

After my family?

There’s no telling what he’ll do if he’s angry…

I give the Squad what will be their final order.

Squad: NOVA!

I watch the light get brighter and then the monitors go to fuzz as the cameras feeding them are
destroyed.

I can almost feel the shockwaves from what I’ve just done.

Half the city must be gone.

He couldn’t have lived through that.

Nothing could have.

We’re finally safe.

Part VI

My head is full of questions.

Most prominently: Where am I?

It’s dark.

Why is it dark?

My vision is hazy and gray, but I can make out a room, and a chair, and...

Maria?

I force my eyes to open.

Why is it still dark?

"He’s awake!"

Perspective comes slowly, and I feel my body as if for the first time.

Moving is hard.

Very hard.

"Oh, god, he’s trying to move!"

I think I know that voice.

It’s still all gray! Why the fuck is it gray?

"Don’t move Bob, stay still!"

I do know that voice

It is Maria, a trusted voice.

I do as she says.

"Bob, can you speak?"

I try.
It seems I can.

"Oh, god, Bob… do you know where you are?"

It’s still gray, but I can see other people.

Why can’t I move my head?

Why am I tied down?

Then the real question hits me.

The question I didn’t even think to ask until now.

How am I tied down?

Someone loosens the strap on my head and gives me a pillow.

Through the gray, I can see I’m in a bed, and there are straps across it holding me down.

Ria, what the fuck is going on?

"Bob, oh, Bob…"

She’s crying.

It’s hard to talk, and I’m getting really tired.

Another voice answers my question.

"Bob, my name is Dr. Yollson. Do you remember me?"

Talking is getting harder, as is staying awake.

I manage to answer, though.

Car fire. You. A boy.

"Uhm, well, yes, ah..."

He didn’t expect me to remember him.

Why wouldn’t he expect me to remember him?

"Bob, there was an incident."

Incident. That’s that they called it when those of us with powers fought.

"What’s the last thing you remember?"

I have to think about it. Really think.

Pain. Holding me down.

Then it all comes back.

"The police found you and brought you here. Nothing we did could wake you. The best we could
do was life support..."

He trails off. They didn’t expect me to wake up.

Why wouldn’t I wake up?

Will somebody tell me what’s going on?

Why can’t I see?

It’s killing me to stay awake.

I keep asking questions.

So they tell me.

The police found me naked and alone in the center of a quarter mile crater. There was nothing
around me but the scorched earth, bleached from the blast of multiple explosions.

They actually waited about half an hour, most of them expecting me to wake up.

It’s not as cruel as it sounds, one time this guy in a bear costume slammed me so hard he
knocked me out for about ten minutes.

I tore his arms off, I was so pissed.

That was back when I starting out, I think I made some stupid remark about the right to "bear
arms". It wasn't my finest moment and I'm not proud of it.
When I didn’t wake up, they called the university, who in turn called the hospital.

And they called Maria.

They hooked me up to minimal life support, set my broken bones and sewed me up.

That was about four months ago.

As far as they could tell, I was the only survivor.

I tell them about the trap and being held down and blacking out.

They look at me with pity.

In the back of my head there's a buzzing question that I haven’t asked.

A wondering thought passes through my head, and I vocalize it without thinking.

They don’t know the answer.

My right leg had extensive surgery, they practically had to rebuild it.

I still have a cast, I can feel it.

All this gray is driving me crazy.

I want to talk to Maria alone.

They leave the room, and I tell her to lock the door and come stand next to me.

It takes most of my strength to look at her.

I’ve lost my powers.

"I know."

Do they know how?

"No, nobody does. They’ve been gone since they brought you in here."

Then, for the first time since I was seventeen I’m afraid.
I’m blind, Ria.

A few weeks later they wheel me out the front door.

The hospital is swarming with press.

There are flashes and microphones in my face, there are so many questions.

"Is it true you’ve lost your powers?"

Somebody said it.

They actually fucking said it!

It’s in the papers the next day.

The National Guard is called out to protect the city from everyone seeking revenge.

It’s night, and I’m sleeping.

The phone rings, and I wake up.

Rings again.

I get out of bed and grab my cane.

Ring.

Keep ringing you bastard, keep ringing, I’m going as fast as I can.

Ring. Ring.

Hello?

"Is this Bob?"

Yes. Who’s this?

"This is Marvelous Bob?"

Nobody’s called me that in a while. It’s just Bob now. Who’s this?

"I’m going to hurt you."

And he hangs up.

I get a lot of calls like that. People calling and saying they want to kill me.

I hobble back to bed, and try to sleep.

Part VII

I crouch down.
You know, slump in my seat, pull down the brim of my hat and push up my sunglasses.

I'm doing my best not to be noticed, which, I guess, is why I get noticed.

There's this man next to me and he starts to talk at me. You know, in that way that almost
makes you take part in the conversation, but not really including you in it.

"So, what do you do?"

Nothing. I'm... unemployed right now.

"Right, right... yeah, my brother's in the same boat. I was here visiting him. Worked in this
company or somethin' for ten years, then, BAM, he's fired. That what happen to you?"

No. Nothing like that really, I just used to do something, now I don't do it anymore.

"Oh, you quit, huh? I can relate, I hate my job, flying around, cheap hotels, bad beds and bad
food..."

I used to like the flying.

I mumble it, and he doesn't even pay attention, he's still talking about how he hates his job.

"...and then the wife gets mad that I'm not home, but if I was home, there wouldn't be any
money, and she can't work so I have to, but I think I would trade places with her in a second. I
love my kids. I never get to see them. You have kids?"

No.

Now he pauses. I think he can tell I don't want to talk. I want to sit here and let the stupid plane
take off and I want to get out of here.

But his pause is over, and he didn't take the hint.

"Anyway... yeah. So what was it you used to do? You know, your job."

I don't think you would know it.

"Hey, you never know, I get around. I worked in a lumber mill for three summers, then the next
year I ran errands for a circus. You gotta work, right? You're not what you do, though. One thing
I learned, a man is not his job. So c'mon, what did you do?"

Now it's my turn to pause. I'm trying to start a new life. I never really thought about my past, or
what I should tell people when they ask who I am.

Or was.

So I go with the truth.

Or a version of it.

I tell him I used to work for the city.

"Oh, now I get it. Government work, huh? Yeah, I got a sister in the Post Office. She likes it, but
I guess that kind of thing ain't for everybody. That what you did, Post Office?"

I tell him I was closer to law enforcement.

"Ex-cop? Huh."

Another pause.

I'm doing my best not to encourage him to talk. Please, buddy, please take the hint.

"So..."

Damnit.

"So.. My name's Makinds. Keith Makinds."

"Yours?"

His hand is out. I'm supposed to shake it.

What do I say?

I take his hand in mine, and we shake firmly, he's got a tight grip, and as I glance down and
watch our hands bounce up and down, I hear myself say...

My name is Robert.
Part VIII

I’ve got about three weeks of pay to put someplace, and an old milk jar isn’t going to cut it
anymore.
So, to the bank I go.

A lot of memories in banks.

If I had thought about it for just half a second more, I would’ve just laid down with the rest of the
hostages.

I mean, some guys pull guns, and fire a few rounds… what am I supposed to do?

I guess maybe it really is instinct.

Everyone dropped and I just stood there.

Which singled me out.

That would have been bad enough.

But one of these guys… damnit.

He knew me.

It had to happen sooner or later.

So now there’s a gun pointed at me and there’s nothing I can do about it.

“So. Lookie here. It’s Marvelous Bob!”

“I hear he ain’t so marvelous no more. Just like us now. A regular dude.”

“Yeah, that’s what I heard, too.”

Fuck.

I take a look at them. They’re not even masked.

They never would have gotten away with this shit before.

But it’s not before, and I don’t have any way to stop them.
“You know me, Bob? You know who I am?”

No.

“You tossed me outta your town. Dropped me on my ass at the city limits! You don’t remember
that, Big Man?”

I never did that.

I’m not lying, either. I really never did that.

This isn’t the first time a punk tried to get a better rep like this.

This is the first time he could kill me with one shot.

“Yeah, I’m the big man now!”

At least they seem to have forgotten about the bank.

He moves closer to me, about three feet or so, and as he raises the gun, leveling it at my head,
I’m sure that I’m going to die.

Of all the things to flash through my mind, I think how ironic it is that I’m going to be shot in the
head and die.

I hear the gunshot and I expect to be dead.

But I’m not.

Everything is frozen.

No.

Not frozen.

Time just… slowed.

I can see the bullet still coming at me.

“Pretty neat trick, huh, Bob?”

Alex.
I start to ask a question, but I’m interrupted.

“Bob, I don’t have much time here…”

He laughs.

“…So I’ve looked ahead a few seconds, and, yes, it’s me.”

I start to speak again.

“Did it again. No, I’m not here, not so much as there is a ‘here’ for me anymore. I’m not, shall
we say, corporeal, anymore. Here.”

And that’s when I seen a young boy in Alex’s costume.

“Surprise.”

He sees me look at the gunmen.

“Don’t worry about that. It’s taken care of. Or it will be. Or, I guess, it is being taken care of, at
the same time I’m talking to you and you’re asking me about me.”

I don’t even bother to talk now.

“Bob, it doesn’t work like that. If you don’t say anything, then I can’t see what you’re going to
say and we end up sitting here wasting seconds… and now I had to say all that.”

He looks annoyed.

And so young.

“Just listen then. I’m not the same Alex. Not like you knew me. Time’s a funny little thing, and
when you spend an infinite amount of time with time, you get to know it a little. Time that is.”

But at least you’re alive!

He frowns at my smile.

“Uhm.... no. Actually, I’m not. Not in anyway you would know. It’s pretty much taking
everything I have to talk to you like this. After that, well… I’ll be energy used up, or I guess I’ll
just dissipate.”

I don’t understand any of this, and I tell him so.

“I’m part of time now. The plane or sphere or whatever you want it to be, but the more I become
part of it, the less I have of myself. It’s not that fucking hard.”

He’s so serious now. I remember an old man who laughed at himself, not this stoic boy.

I see him soften a bit. He looks almost sad.

“You never knew I was a kid.”

I had no idea.

When I met him, he was well past thirty.

“You’re my hero, Bob. All I wanted to do was grow up and be like you. You’re the reason I
became who I am. Or, I guess, was. Or you could even say, will be, but that’s just being
facetious.”

I don’t know what to tell him. I start to thank him for saving my life and he interrupts me again.

“I’ve got something for you, Bob. Something more precious than gold. More precious than
anything.”

“A second chance.”

That’s when I feel it.

The image of Alex melts away before me, everything around me melts away, but I can still hear
him in my head.

“You’re not going to remember this. Or anything. Not really. Just a vague notion. So I need to
you concentrate on what I’m going to tell you. Concentrate harder on it than you ever have on
anything, ever before.”

“Are you ready, champ?”

My dad used to call me champ.

“I know, Bob.”

“Good luck, I hope you’re ready. Concentrate!”

“Save her.”
Family: Part I

Mom’s pregnant.
She doesn’t know I know. I found the test in the bathroom trash.

Mom is pregnant.

I know how this happens. I know all about babies and stuff like that.

I wonder when she’ll tell us?

Will she tell us?

She might get one of those ‘bortions and then there wouldn’t be anything to tell us.

Would she do that?

Frankie doesn’t know.

I don’t think I should tell him.

His dad has been gone for a while.

I know how babies are made and I know that my dad has been sleeping in another room for a
few months now.

They fight a lot.

Mom goes out at night sometimes.

She comes back and goes right to bed.

--

Mom and dad stopped fighting once mom started to have a really big belly.

One night a man came by and mom and dad had one really big fight after that.

But then they stopped.

I think the man was the baby’s dad.

I don’t care, though.

Because mom is going to have a baby.

Mom is going to have a baby really soon.

I’m kinda excited. I won’t be the youngest anymore.

Mom says she was a “middle child”, too.

Frankie and my dad have started to fight a lot.

About everything.

Mom says that the baby will be here any day now. We’ve changed the guest room into a baby
room and everybody worked on it together.

Except Frankie.

--

I do not like my baby brother.

I don’t like having to take care of him when I come home from school.

When mom and dad are at work I have to do everything.

I came home one day and the baby was crying and Frankie had his music up really loud and I
checked on the baby and it needed changing.

I asked him about it and Frankie said it wasn’t his problem.

So it’s all my problem.

I have to do everything.

Mom and dad are either at work or fighting.

One time I asked mom about the baby’s dad and if he could maybe come help.

She started yelling at me and got all crazy upset. When she calmed down she explained it to
me.
“Maria, honey, I don’t know where he is. I don’t know him very well. You’ll understand this
someday when you’re older. Besides, your father wouldn’t want Robert around anyway.”

Then she said something in French or something. Some expression or whatever, I don’t know,
she does that a lot.

So I have to do everything.

It’s not like before.

I never get to have fun now.

And it’s all the baby’s fault.

Family: Part II

I can’t stand it.

She’s driving me insane.

What else do they want from me? I bought her a house. A maid. A car and a driver.

A cook and a private nurse; I do everything but feed her.

But Maria won’t leave me alone, telling me mom needs “special care”.

I know my mother and I know what she needs.

She doesn’t need some home.

She’s not crazy.

Maria needs to fucking try harder is all.

I’ve given her more than enough money to take care of mom and herself.

She just isn’t trying hard enough.

You can do anything if you really want it.

You just have to be strong and you have to try.

She needs to try harder.

--

He doesn’t understand.

He wasn’t there when we were younger, he was already off at school, he doesn’t know how bad
it could get.

Now Bob’s off at school, I’m alone, and she’s getting worse. Each day she’s a little further away
from me.

I can’t take care of her anymore.

I don’t even know what she’s saying sometimes.

She doesn’t eat if you don’t force her, she won’t leave her bed.

She goes from being catatonic to thrashing wildly and I can’t hold her and I can’t keep her from
hurting herself.

All of Frank’s nurses and cooks can’t change the fact that she’s slipping away.

Each day my mother dies a little more and this thing takes her place.

This thing that looks past me.

This thing who doesn’t know me.

This thing that’s all alone and no matter how much I try I can’t reach her.

--

When they were young my children were full of life.

Good children who stayed away from trouble.

Frankie loved his father so much but he never met him. He made his father into something he
wanted to be. My son is a rich man now. He will be sad when he dies.

Ria, my beautiful daughter. She is the glue that holds my children together. I had heard that
middle children sometimes do things to make themselves stand out, because they often feel
overlooked. My daughter has always been the center of my family. I miss her.

My youngest son is my gift from God. My baby boy. I warned him as I warn them all.

I regret leaving my children alone.

But there is work to be done.

If a man were to be hit by a bus and I didn’t try to warn him, it would be no different than if I had
killed that man myself.

It doesn’t matter if they never listen.

It doesn’t matter when the bus still comes.

I warn everyone.
They just never listen.
Family: Part III

My ‘brother’ is a super hero.

Sometimes I can’t believe it. I mean, I knew him when, you know? He’s not even that different
now.

He’s a super hero and it’s just not fair.

Everything comes to him.

He flunked out of college. He can’t hold a job. He just coasts along. Everything comes to him.

I, on the other hand, I’m a self made man. I went to school. I found a job in this stinking city
when the economy said there weren’t any jobs to be found. I made things happen for myself. I
made myself.

From what I remember and what I know from mom, he’s just like his father.

A loser. A stupid, slacker loser.

Not like my father.

Or even Maria’s, actually. He wasn’t too bad, not really. I didn’t really care for him either way,
then one night he died. Heart attack. Strangest thing, he was in perfect health.

My father was a businessman, not just some suit, but a real businessman. He made his own
deals, he made things happen. I’m just like him. Nothing ever came easy to us. Not like Bob.

Everyone just loves Bob.

Fuck him. He doesn’t do anything special. Nothing any cop couldn’t do. You don’t see the
people flocking around the cops.

Hell, I’ve built buildings in this town! Homeless shelters and parks and shit. All that garbage,
you know, tax stuff, and you don’t see me running around calling myself super.

Even if I am.

--

I love my brothers, I really do.

And I know they love each other, too.

They’re just so different. Not like brothers at all, really.

But they’re my brothers and they’re part of my family.

Family helps family. I take care of mom, Frank pays for her; house, food, all that kind of junk.

He helps Bob out, too. Bob couldn’t make his rent without Frank’s help.

I know I’m the in-between.

And I know I got it from mom.

“Keep us all together, be the glue, Maria. Be the glue.”

Frank is always around, but I always have to try with Bob.

I always have to reach out to him.

He doesn’t call us. He doesn’t see mom.

Sometimes it’s like he doesn’t think of himself as part of the family.

I know he’s got his reasons, though. He’s got a lot of responsibility.

He’s a Super Hero. The best one that there ever was.

He cares about everyone in the city.

Everyone but himself.

--

I love my son and I love my daughter.

Sometimes they come to see me.

Sometimes I want to go see them, but my daughter tells me that I’m sick and I cannot leave.

Sometimes another man comes to see me.

He reminds me of a boy I knew once, but he is a ghost.

The ghost only comes at night, and never through the door.

He brings me gifts. Flowers sometimes. Candy.

Sometimes the ghost takes me to the roof and we listen to the voice of the world.

The ghost would never hurt me.

I don’t tell my children about the ghost.

I think it would make them sad.

I don’t want to hurt them.

Teenage Flashback: Part I

And it rains.

Every day it rains.

It’s gray and it’s wet and just when I think there might be a splash of sunlight, the rain falls
harder.

Half a lifetime ago, before the powers, before I was marvelous...

I was seventeen and there was a rainy day.

I remember that there had been a heat wave or something, and I think I saw on television that
they didn’t expect any rain, not for a long time.

And it was hot, I mean, really hot.

People were dropping on the street, fainting dead away.

I skipped school again, snuck back home after everyone was gone.

I don’t know if I had really been planning anything, but I guess when you’re that age, sometimes
everything just falls together when it’s falling apart.

Mom had this gun, see.

You know, for protection, it really wasn’t a very good neighborhood.

I guess back then, there really weren’t any good neighborhoods in my city.

But it wasn’t my city yet. Back then I just lived there.

It’s weird what I remember about that day.

I remember my room being really empty. I think maybe we were painting it, but I remember
there were sheets or tarps or something, all of it draping white.

It was so hot, and I remember I opened the double window, trying for just a little bit of air.

I remember turning out all the lights but one. It was one of those hanging lights, where the cord
is part of the fixture and it was swinging a little bit from the breeze or the windows.
And, of course, I remember shooting myself.

You really can’t forget something like that.

I remember looking out the window and thinking for just a second that maybe it would be better
it I jumped, but I wasn’t sure that a three story fall would kill me, and I didn’t want to be a
quadriplegic.

As I said, I didn’t really plan this in much detail; other than I wanted to make sure that nobody
was there when I did it.

Let them find me when it was done, fine.

Besides, what if they tried to stop me?

I remember standing under the light and it was moving just a little and it just barely reached my
hair.

I remember lifting my arm, I think I held the gun about two or three inches from my head.

And I stopped.

I don’t know how long I stood there, it couldn’t have been very long, but it seemed like forever.

Have you ever lived a lifetime in a few seconds?

I did.

I had this flash of insight, or vision, or something. Best I can describe it is maybe a “future
memory”.

Now, no, I didn’t see the future, and I didn’t have any powers then anyway, it was more of a
daydream.

But I saw myself, and I saw my life, or what I thought would be my life, and I didn’t want it and I
didn’t like it, and I heard myself asking why I would ever want that.

So I pulled the trigger and I heard thunder and I was struck by lighting.

I had never been near a real gunshot.

It’s loud.
It’s loud and it’s bright.

If you’re close enough, it’s really bright.

And I was close.

I remember the shot, and I remember seeing a bright light, and I remember feeling the bullet hit
my temple.

The side of my head felt like burning, and then it felt, I don’t know how to describe it, like a
tearing, and then the gun flew from my hand.

I stood there and I felt something warm and wet flowing down the side of my face and I reached
up and I wiped my hand across my face.

I don’t actually remember looking at it, but I must have because I saw the blood.

I saw red everywhere, and then it started to turn gray.

Then I passed out.

I heard a scream and I woke up.

Maria was the first to get home in the afternoon.

She had opened my door and there I was and she screamed.

And it woke me.

As I opened my eyes, I remember the gray clearing and I remember seeing her in the doorway,
just screaming.

So I sat up.

She ran over to me, and I remember she grabbed me and pulled me close.

I was just sitting there numbly, being held.

I was facing the window.

I could feel her shudder against me as she started to cry.

I felt a wetness on my face.

And I wasn’t crying.

Coming in from the window was a soft rain.

Teenage Flashback: Part II

“You can’t tell anybody what happened, Bobby.”

It was the first thing she had said to me since yesterday.

It actually took me by surprise.

After Maria found me, after she stopped crying, she started to clean up.

Everything in the room that even hinted of what I had tried to do, she cleared everything out with
blood on it.

She handed me the mop without a word and I started to soak up the water from the rain.

It took us most of the night.

Mom got home before we were done; Maria just closed the door and we kept working.

When it was all done, she walked out and went to her room.

I stayed in mine.

I wasn’t tired, but I went to bed.

I woke up late and decided to just skip school again, I mean, hell, this should count as sick.

I figured the place was empty by now, so I went to the kitchen.

I was pouring some Cap’n Crunch when she said it.

“You can’t tell anybody what happened, Bobby.”

I turned and saw her in her robe, standing in the doorway.

What do you mean? Look, I’m sorry, I don’t know why I did what I did, but I’m glad I’m not dead,
I mean, I guess I’m supposed to be alive, right? The gun…

I paused for a second and she started to speak, but I kept going.

…the gun misfired. I should have been dead, but I was just knocked out or something and it’ll
all be okay now and-

“No, Bobby, no…”

She started to sob again.

What is it? What’s wrong? I don’t understand!

She was crying and I was yelling.

She walked to the table and reached in her robe pocket.

For some reason I remember her robe so clearly. It was dark blue, almost black, with gold
threaded trim, and these big deep pockets.

Big enough to hold a gun.

Pockets big enough to hold a gun and a small hunk of metal about the size of my fingernail.

I shut up.

I just stood there.

She reached for me, and brushed her fingers past my temple.

I cringed, it was a little sore, it felt bruised.

And that’s when it hit me.

A spot on my temple felt bruised.

Yesterday there was a lot of blood coming from that spot.

There should be a gash, right? A huge cut or something, a scab.

I hesitantly brushed my fingers over where it should be bleeding, and it was fine.

I didn’t feel anything.

There had to be an explanation, something had happened with the gun.

“What? What could have done this?”

I don’t know, something. Maybe it was faulty…

“Bobby, no, this wasn’t a faulty gun! This was… was… I don’t know what it was!”
No! Listen, I didn’t do it! It had to be the gun! It’s old or something, or maybe I did it wrong!

“It wasn’t the gun. It was-“

I looked at her hard. Harder than I had ever looked at anyone before.

She whispered the last word.

“-you.”

I had never heard of anything like this before.

Nobody had.

You’ve got to understand, this was almost seven years before I made my debut, and almost ten
before there was anybody else with powers.

“Bobby!”

“Bobby!”

I wasn’t paying attention; I was in a stupor, trying to come to grips with something that took me
years to accept, and to understand something that I don’t think I ever will.

“Bob!”

She grabbed my arms. I snapped out of it and looked her straight in the eye.

“Bob, promise me you won’t tell anybody about this. Promise me you’ll never speak a word
about it. You won’t talk about it ever again.”

Her voice got quiet, and I don’t know if I was even supposed to hear the last part.

“…promise me you won’t do it again.”

I promised.
College Flashback: Part I

I can’t sleep at night.

I try. I do all the stupid home remedies… warm milk, all of that crap.

But it doesn’t work.

My bed’s set against the window and night after night, I just look out at the stars.

I’ve got this small room, with a kitchenette… nothing fancy, but still out of my price-range.

I couldn’t afford it without my brother Frank’s help.

It’s weird, we fought for so long, I was sure he hated me.

I think he still does.

Maybe that’s why he helps me.

He finally feels like he beat me.

Whatever.

As long as we’re not fighting anymore, I can live with it.

It used to drive mom crazy.

But now it doesn’t, and she can sleep at night.

But I still can’t.

All I can do at night is look at the stars.

And think of Grace.

The stars always make me think of Grace.

I didn’t have powers then.

I was just a guy named Bob.

I met her in what turned out to be my last year in college.

It was her first.

We didn’t have a single class together.

No mutual friends.

She lived about three miles from me, we weren’t even neighbors.

We met because Grace wanted us to meet.

I was walking along, I think I left class early, or maybe I didn’t even go that day.

I was just walking, and this girl came up to me.

Walks right up and says she wants to have some coffee, and she would like it if I went with her.

I hate coffee.

I think I had six cups.

I loved her by the end of the first.

I didn’t tell her then, and it was too late when I did.

We had been together for about two years, and we had shared everything with each other.

Except that.

I couldn’t say it.

I knew, and she knew, but I couldn’t say it.

She wanted to go for a walk, and of course I went with her.

I would have followed her to hell and beyond.

We would walk twice a week or so, and we would look at the stars.

She loved the stars.

She didn’t know all the constellations, or the names of the stars, she just thought they were
beautiful and loved to look at them.
And I loved to look at her.

We would walk and she would look up and sigh and I would tell her to step to the side, there
was a puddle, or here’s the curb.

One night, she looked to the left.

Just a casual glance, and she stops.

There was something in the dark, in the very back of an alley.

I didn’t see it, I would never have noticed it, but Grace did.

“Look! Look, Bob, there’s something wrong over there!”

I looked, and I saw, and I told her to keep walking, pick up the pace.

“What’re you talking about?! They might need help!”

And she took off down the alley.

So I took off after her.

We got closer, and we saw.

It was a mugging.

Two guys were robbing a hooker.

One had a gun.

I remember feeling frozen.

And I remember watching Grace.

“What’s going on here?”

It sounded so stupid. Everyone knew what was happening.

“Well?”

They didn’t say anything.

The one with the gun turned it on us.

On Grace.

“Your purse.”

Somehow I found my voice.

Gracie, give him your purse.

She wouldn’t.

Now, I knew there wasn’t any money in there.

I didn’t know why she wouldn’t give it up.

I wouldn’t know until later.

She had a picture of me in a small frame, and she didn’t want to lose it.

The one without the gun grabbed for it, and she wouldn’t let go, and the second guy fired a shot
in the air.

Everyone froze.

He leveled the gun at her.

“Listen, lady, just give us your purse.”

He was looking right at us.

So he didn’t see the hooker pick up a board and slam it into the back of his head.

Again, things happened quickly.

He went down, the other guy ran, Gracie grabbed the gun, and I…

I didn’t do anything.

Police reports later, we were home again.

We were going to bed, I was tired and, honestly, I was still scared.
Right before I fell asleep, she asked me.

“Why didn’t you do anything?”

What could I have done?

“Anything! You didn’t even want to get involved!”

You’re damn right I didn’t! We could have been killed! We wouldn’t have even been in any
danger if you hadn’t run down there to see what was going on!

“I thought I could help!”

Why do you even care?! We didn’t know her!

“Does that make her less important? Am I more important than she is?”

I screamed my reply.

Yes!

Yes, you’re more important! She was just a hooker! She knows what she’s going to do each
night she’s out there, she knows what can happen!

You! You’re more important to me than anything! I…

I still couldn’t say it.

I stopped yelling and let my anger die.

I would die for you, Gracie.

“But not for her. That’s the difference between us, Bob.”

I didn’t know what to say, so we went to bed and we left it at that.

College Flashback: Part II

I couldn’t sleep that night; I lay there for hours just looking at the stars.

I was awake, that’s why I heard the window break.

It was the other thug.

He knew where we lived? Maybe he followed us, who knows?

He seemed surprised, I don’t think he even intended to rob us, just somebody.

Maybe he was just unlucky.

But he was here, in our home.

With a gun.

It’s always a gun.

Well, he was back, be it for revenge or money or bad luck or whatever, and he broke the window
and I got out of bed and I went to see what was wrong.

And I didn’t wake Grace.

I went out of our room, to the main room, and I saw the broken glass on the floor.

But I didn’t see him.

At first I thought maybe it was just a rock, or something, vandalism or neighborhood kids.

But then I heard the scream.

He had gone into our room through the bathroom, and he had seen Grace, or she had seen
him, and she screamed.

I ran into the room, I mean it, I bolted in there.

And I saw him, with the gun on her.

I saw her, in one of my old shirts.

I saw her, with her hair behind one ear.

I saw her tremble, truly afraid.

And I was on him.

I ran at him before he could turn the gun on me, I jumped on him, and I started hitting him.

I mean it. I really beat the shit out of the guy.

I just kept picturing him with the gun pointed at Grace.

I was yelling at him the whole time.

Never again!

Don’t touch her!

I was busy fighting the man on the ground, I didn’t see the other man.

“Get off him!”

I didn’t hear.

He said it again, and I didn’t pay any attention.

“Get off him or I kill the woman.”

I stopped hitting the unmoving mound on the floor that used to be a man, and turned to see a
tall man with a gun.

A gun pointed at Grace.

Touching her.

“Get up, and walk to the door.”

I stared at him.

“Get up, or she dies.”

I slowly rose and walked to the door.

As I walked, I sentenced him to death.

I’m going to kill you.

“I don’t doubt that you could, seeing as what you’ve done to my comrade there, however, I don’t
think that you will.”

This man was not a street thug.

He was smart.

Did I recognize the voice?

“Now, if you’ll kindly walk out the door and close it behind you…”

I stopped.

I had never seen Grace look like she did then.

She was too pale.

She didn’t look scared, only sad.

No.

“Either you do, or she’s dead.”

No.

No.

No.

NO!

I just kept saying it.

I don’t really know what happened next.

It was half a lifetime ago the first time my powers activated themselves.

It was a one shot deal, excuse the pun, I hadn’t seen anything from them since.

I saw him move his finger to fire the gun.

I remember not being fast enough, not being strong enough, not being good enough to save
her.

And suddenly, I was.

I was there and I hit him.

Hard.

He went flying, slammed into the wall, and crumpled to the ground.

I turned to see Gracie, she was bleeding.

She had been shot, she was bleeding in the middle, I didn’t know where.

It was right in the stomach.

I called 911.

I didn’t know what to do.

“Bob…”

I’m here, Gracie, it’s okay, they’ll be here soon, you’re going to be okay.

“No… no, I won’t. I can feel… Bob…”

She coughed.

She was barely breathing.

She was still too pale.

What is it, honey?

“How… how did… you?”

I don’t know, baby. I just did.

“How?”

So I told her.
I told her about when I was younger.

“Bob… why? I… you…”

And her eyes closed.

And she coughed.

And then she died.

I sat with her for about an hour, when the police and ambulance got there, I tried to explain the
best I could.

I was the only person at her funeral.

Bob Goes Public Flashback: Part I

Okay. This is it.

Now’s my chance, as good as any.

They’re, the cops, they’re not paying attention to the megaphone, and I grab it.

Listen to me. You've got one chance, let her go and come out here. Give yourself up.

Of course, the police notice me now.

"Who is that guy? Get him away from the megaphone!"

I continue talking to the man in the building with the gun and the hostage.

You don't want to deal with me. Come out here and end it now-

A cop grabs the megaphone from my hand and glares at me.

"What the hell do you think you're doing? You can't just call in there!"

I think I'm going in and I think I’m bringing her out.

He looks at me patronizingly and he speaks slowly, as if to a child.

"We just can't allow that, son. I’ll have you restrained if I have to. We're sending men in in just
a few minutes."

I give him a deadpan look.

Are they bulletproof?

His mouth contorts with a sour twist. He must think I’m insane.

His reply is a sarcastic:

"No, are you?"

I am today.

With that, I shrug off his arm and I turn to go.

Now, honestly, I don’t know for sure if I’m bulletproof.

I mean, I was, once, but I also cut myself shaving yesterday morning…

But two days ago some kid shot me in an alley and it didn’t even break the skin.

Jesus. What am I doing here?

I break into a run as I head for the front door.

They’re after me before I make it ten feet, but that’s fine.

I run pretty fast sometimes.

I make it inside, which is good, I guess.

I know this guy is in here, I think he’s on the second floor, but I’m not sure.

So I start looking.

And I’m not at all quiet about it.

Hey! Guy! Where are you? Don’t make this harder for either of us!

I know, I know, but it sounded like the right thing to say at the time.

I'm searching randomly, then I walk past three doors and open the fourth before I know what I'm
doing and I see him there.

I open the door and I look at him and he looks at me…

And nothing.

An old man looks back at me.

He doesn’t say anything, he points the gun at me, then back at this woman on the floor.

Listen, man, you’ve got to give it up. Just put the gun down and go out there and give up.

“She laughed at me. They all did.”

I have no idea what to do.

Should I hit him?

He’s an old man… looks like Mister Magoo.

Just give up and…

BAM!

For a fraction of a fraction of a second, I think that maybe I’m not bulletproof and I’ll be seeing
Gracie sooner than I thought…

And then I feel the smallest pressure on my chest.

Just like that and I’m fine.

I think I’m more surprised than he is.

There’s this three second pause before he fires again, but this time I’m not worried.

I start to move closer to him, slowly, but he fires two more shots.

Just put it down and give up.

I’m almost to him when he turns the gun towards the woman.

Shit!

Just as I yell: “Don’t do anything stupid!” he fires two quick shots.

I don’t have time to think about what to do.

I’m about three feet from the woman and I don’t think she’s bulletproof.

I dive toward her but even as I do I can see the two new holes in her back start to slowly leak
red.

I land, rather ungracefully, right on top of her, bringing my leg up and kicking Magoo’s gun hand.

I leap up as the gun goes flying and punch him in the face.

He goes straight down.

I run to the window and yell for them to get in here with a doctor, there’s a woman who’s been
shot.
They’re with me quickly, and it’s chaos.

The same cop from before is shouting at me, there’s a man in white on the floor with the
woman, and another man is cuffing Magoo.

“Do you know what you’ve done?! You’re in a lot of trouble! You’re going to jail for this!”

I’m not paying attention to him; I’m looking at the woman.

The man in white turns her over and I can see, as can the rest of the people in the room, that
she’s been dead a while.

Those last two shots didn’t kill her.

It doesn’t make me feel any better, though.

Right about this time I feel the handcuffs on my wrists.

The End: The End

The End.
“I remember when Laura died, the look on your face, it was priceless! You were just ‘too late’.
Oh, and I thought it was dream, remember? I didn’t know, and you couldn’t find me because I
didn’t know!”

As he talks his suit, his stupid, expensive Italian suit changes. A series of stupid costumes
flicker in and out of existence, he’s in a flux, and he doesn’t even know it.

I’m pinned to the side of a building and I’m probably going to die.

Nice suit, Frank.

What can I say? I’m a sarcastic bastard.

He scowls.

“Because you always win.”

What the fuck is he talking about now?

That doesn’t make any sense.

“Sure it does. At first I just hated you, and I guess that hate made me do things, but, the reason
for hating you, that’s the best part, see, the reason was that you always win.”

Frankie, you’re sick.

“Maybe I am, that’s really not your problem right now, is it Bob?”

There’s a pause, and I see a little piece of my brother.

“Don’t call me Frankie, Bubba.”

Then that piece dies.

I can feel him tear my leg off, and it hurt more than I ever thought anything could.

It’s a slow pain, not a quick one, I guess he’s doing that, too.

He’s not just my match, he’s my better.

And I need help.

That’s when I feel it. Deep inside me, I know what I have to do.

I always hated this kind of thing, it’s so obvious, the last ditch effort that fixes the problem but
kills the hero.

And I guess I’m the hero.

So be it.

I can feel my life drain out of me, it’s fast and it’s painless, but for some reason I remain “alive”
long enough to feel my powers seep into everyone in the city.

In a city of people with powers, Frankie, you’re outmatched and outgunned.

And I make my final play.

“Hey, Frankie, I win.”

Before I die, my last thoughts are of Grace, and that I hope she’s proud of me and I wonder if I’ll
see her and if there’s a heaven.

Then it all goes bright, and I see everything at once.

Last Entry:

"Are you listening to me, Robert? I’m leaving you."

She always called me Robert.

"Loving you was the worst thing that ever happened to me."

And with that, she closed the door and left.

I didn’t see her leave. I only heard it. I was across town.

There was a fire, there were people trapped, and I thought that maybe I could do something. I’m
lucky sometimes.

She always called me Robert.

...But the people in this city call me Bob.

MARVELOUS BOB.