The Darkest, Last Straw - 88%
I remember waking up that day, at the crack of dawn. I look outside the window, of my one-bedroom apartment, as the sun shines brightly upon my face, and suddenly I had a premonition. Today is going to go badly. I shrug off my pessimism. “What ever.”
I dress quickly in a black formal shirt and a pair of dark gray shorts. A rustic, metallic chain is hung around my neck, followed quickly by a digital watch. I check my shorts, making sure that I have both my wallet and my chain, with attached keys. I eye myself in the mirror as I brush my teeth. My receding hairline was expertly removed by a barber, and has left my head round and shiny. My cheeks look taunt and worried. Small sets of wrinkles are being born across my face daily. I look tired, and burnt out. I look like a father.
Much later that day, my head is filled with thoughts of the past, and a frantic terror plagues my mind. My stomach growls hungrily at me, but I know there is no time to stop and eat. Not that I could, even if I had the time; there weren’t any restaurants, gas stations, or food of any kind around. My legs pump furiously down onto the dual pedals of the bicycle, as I travel on the edge of a highway. I move with much speed along through the darkness.
Every now and then, a car flies past me, briefly lighting my road. Then it is dark, once again. I breathe a sigh of relief after every car is gone. For I fear, any of them, could be bringing an enemy to my side. The enemy.
I can barely make out the forest on either side of the road, or even the path before me. It was too close to the city to be able to see any stars, yet far enough away that there are no streetlights of any kind. I knew I was heading in the right direction, on the right highway. I also knew that something was following me. Has been stalking me, for several years apparently.
I look over my shoulder, as I moved blindly at a fair clip. I had decided that my follower was using a car, no doubt catching my scent and gaining fast on me, on this dark, windswept concrete trail. Would he catch up with me before I reached safety? Using my left hand, I reach behind me and feel my backpack. Satisfied that my precious cargo is still in my possession, safe and sound, I return my focus to getting to my destination, as quickly as possible.
Such a very, very long time ago, we shared a small house, with a group of other people. There were seven of us, each with our own room. But my friend was different than the rest of them. Older than me by a year or two, he had a youthful energy about him. A full head of hair, as dark as a raven’s, with sharp eyes to match. They sparkled when he had a happy thought in mind, and he was very strong. Much stronger than me. He trained me how to be like him.
He showed me my full potential, and how to use it, for the good of humanity. He was a demigod, and I was his sidekick. Me, Pluto, to his Mickey Mouse. A Mercutio to his Romeo. A Robin, to his Batman. If there was an adventure to be had, a person in need of help, or a villain to scare, the pair of us would be there. Superman, and the other guy.
But my mentor and I were very different, in several ways. He would help people with questions of science or math, with his wise knowledge on such matters. In contrast, I would help people by giving them the poison they required, when they were in desperate need. He could frighten the toughest of the tough, by just pretending to be scarier. I struck fear in the heart of no man. Or, at least, no villainous man. He was a noble man, with a good heart, and honourable intentions.
And I was something very different. I was not made of the same, heroic material. I had some similar strengths, but I lacked a strong moral fibre. I was a pawn; close to, but not yet on, the wrong side of the chessboard. All I needed was a good, hard push.
I am sitting alone, in the dark, eyeing a candle that appears to be floating on the top of a table, when my mentor arrives. I look up at his darkened frame, outlined against the hallway’s lights. “Hey. Can we talk?” he asks me.
“Of course.” The door closes behind him, and he sits down beside me.
His kind face glowed in candle light. “I’m not sure, but it feels like there is something wrong with you. You’ve been acting strangely lately. Everybody thinks so. I never see you in the daylight anymore, only at night. Well, that one time yesterday, but even then you clung to the shadows. You’ve been avoiding people-“
“I’ve been avoiding you.” He falls silent, and noticed the short letter on the table. It’s addressed to me. Picking it up tightly in his hands, he reads it over twice, then sets it down again. I sit quietly, and wait for his reaction. The wet, candle wax started it’s slow engulf of the flame at the end of the wick, and the darkness clouded in on his face.
“Is your friend dead?” I nod. He contemplated the meaning of the letter, before continuing. “This, fiend, instructed you to kill me, or else your friend would.. meet an unpleasant fate. If I ever received a threatening, anonymous letter like this, I would either ignore it or report it to the authorities. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry about your friend-”
“That’s not good enough, Kent. I warned him, to watch his back, but that wasn’t good enough either. My friend is dead, because I didn’t have the courage.. Because I couldn’t get rid of..” My voice trailed off. He got up and slowly walked to the door.
“If you are ever again contacted this way, tell me. I’ll teach this person a thing or two about manners.”
Even though we lived in close proximity to each other, we grew apart. Our once common goals evolved, and while his turned into goals beneficial to society, mine twisted and changed into something entirely new. Entirely twisted, deranged, evil. I plotted a revenge, against an enemy I may never have met, who was untraceable, a faceless monster, who had killed my friend, and cost me another.
I moved out of the house shortly after, and back to my hometown. I got an apartment, which I quickly trashed. The death of my friend consumed me. For a year, it was all I could think about. I didn’t smile, I didn’t laugh, I had no joy. I stayed away from both people and sunlight. Until, one day, I met Lara.
Lara was in her twenties, and she was gorgeous. Her noir hair, her smile, her thin, shapely body. The first time we ran into each other, in the vegetable section of a grocery store, she wasn’t wearing any lipstick or makeup, which just made her look all the more radiant.
“Excuse me?” she asked me politely, as I examined a green apple. “Would you happen to have the time?”
“I always have time for a beautiful stranger, madam,” I replied crisply. She giggled, and started picking at her nails nervously. She was the most attractive person I had ever seen, and she had immediately pulled me out of my long reverie.
“I was just asking, because I wanted to get all my week’s shopping done before closing,” she explained.
“Ah.” I check my watch. “You’ve got about twenty minutes left. And I’m not sure what all you have on your shopping list, but could I suggest you nourish yourself with some nice, green apples?”
“I think I will. And for you, sir gentleman, I’d recommend.. some carrots. You have the look about you of a night owl, and I’m sure seeing in the dark is very important to you.”
“These incandescent lights are no justice to your fine skin. I’d love to see you in darker light.” She giggled again.
“A movie theatre, perhaps?”
“Only if I can buy you dinner first.”
Lara and I started dating, just small stuff like dinner and a show, every week or two. She made me feel good again. All my previous goals of personally exacting revenge on my friend’s murderer had been pushed aside, because she made me happy. She made me forget all of my troubles. She brought me back to life. It only seemed natural that I was the cause of her death.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered to her body, as she lay lifeless in a hospital bed. “It wasn’t your fault,” the doctor informed me. I could feel the anguish leaking back into my life. There was only one bright point left. From the doctor, I took my newborn child in my arms, and cradled her softly. “I’m going to protect you,” I coo at her softly. “Rachael.” This child was now the most important aspect of my life. It was all I had left of Lara.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t long before I realized that I couldn’t protect her. On this particular day, I awoke, got dressed, cleaned my teeth, and found a letter tucked into her cradle. Somebody had slithered inside my home, and could have done anything to my infant child while I slept. “I am going to kill your girl.” Seven simple words, enough to make me panic. I knew that this brute had to be stopped, or the child who had cost me a wonderful woman was going to end up six feet under too. But I also realized there was only one man who could help me. “If you are ever again contacted this way, tell me.”
“You have reached the answering machine of Mr. Kent – I’m sorry, but I’m not here right now.” Doing some rough mathematics in my head, I calculated it would take about six hours to bike back up to my old home, if I really pushed myself. “Kent, this is Luthor. I’ve got a big problem. I’ll be there in a couple of hours. Be home when I get there.” I carefully placed baby Rachael in my backpack, wrapped in a foamy sheet. I double checked that she was comfortable, had enough oxygen, and then started out as fast as I could.
And now, I am so close, I can see the lights of the city on the horizon. Unfortunately, I am stopped. Violently. A car, racing through the darkness, comes from behind, and sends me flying off my bicycle. I land roughly on some rocks at the side of the road.
I wake up, several hours later. “Ouch. I bet that’s going to leave a mark,” I mutter to nobody in particular, as I stand up awkwardly. A curse escapes my lips, for I realize my backpack is no longer on my back, but in the middle of the road. It no longer has the round, safe appearance of a bag that holds a baby inside. It looks like a piece of garbage. My attacker has run it over, at least twice, and then fled into the night. “No.” I fall back to the ground, and begin to sob.
I understand that the real killer is an untraceable, unstoppable villain. But I have so much anger, desperation, rage; somebody has to pay for all these crimes. I now realize, in a blind rage, what I must do. It’s been in front of me this whole time. As a result of my refusal to kill Kent, I lost one friend. As a reaction of my choice, I met Lara, and consequently, she died. And now, because of Kent’s inability to help me, I have lost my daughter. “I vow, from this day forward, that I will not rest, until you have been laid to rest, Mr. Kent. No amount of pain will be too great for you, for your family, and for your loved ones. I will have my vengeance satisfied!” I notice my bicycle, still intact, lying in the shadows, and it dawns on me how close I am to Kent’s city. I recall, my message left on his answering machine, telling him to wait at the house until I get there. “I think I’ll go have a little visit with my buddy, tonight.”
yes.. the story is about THAT Mr. Luthor..