"Jason?" Joe asks from the living room. I wake up in my bedroom. It seems like only seconds ago I was in the forest. I'm not exactly sure how I even got here.
I look behind me, half expecting to see a cartoon-style cutout of my silhouette in the wall. Luckily there is none, but then how did I get in here? Can I teleport? Walk throughwalls?
"Jason?" His footsteps are coming towards my room. I can't tell if I've been asleep for ten seconds or ten hours.
A glance overtowards the window and the sunshine streaming into my bedroom confirms that it's more likely the latter.
I look down at my arms and see that I'm stillwearing the metabands. That might cause some suspicion.
Oh, and I'm also
floating about a six feet over my bed.
Dammit.
"Are you in there?" Joe asks from the other side of the door. Shit. This is not going to be easy to explain to anyone, let alone a conspiracy nut like Joe.
I have to get these things off of me, but they won't budge an inch. How do you turn these things off?
Think.
I must havewatched a million metahuman videos online. Two million, if you include the really crazy ones that Joe's shoved down my throat over the years.
What I never saw in any of these was how to actually turn these damn things off. Surely there must be a way. Most of the metas were suspected to have had secret identities.
Day jobs. 'Normal' lives. That's when I realize I am over thinking all of this. How do you turn a computer on? Hit the power button.
How do you turn a computer off? Hit the power button. How do you turn metabands on? Click them together. How do you turn meta bracelets off?
Bingo. I collapse onto my bed just as Joe turns the doorknob and walks into my room. The metabands are tucked under the sleeves of my sweatshirt, and Joe doesn't seem to notice them. Either that or he's too mad to.
"Where in the hell were you!?" He's pissed.
"I was here. In bed."
"Here!? No you weren't. You were gone all night! No one could find you. The cops-"
"Cops!?"
"Yes genius. The cops. The ones you called to report the insane kidnapper that you ran into in the woods? Remember? They've been looking all over for you."
"Oh my God," I say out loud. I hadn't even thought about how I would explain all of this.
Granted, when I called 911, I didn't expect to become a metahuman soon afterwards and be able to take care of the situation myself.
"So?" Joe asks.
"I don't know," I tell him. At least that's kinda the truth. I actually don't know.
"You don't know? You're at the center of one of the biggest stories inthe last decade and you 'don't know'? How the hell did you even get in here past all of the reporters?" Derrick asks.
"Reporters?" I ask.
"Yes, Einstein, the reporters. The one's who have been on the front lawn for the last hour demanding to speak with you, so you can tell them all about the world's first metahuman that anyone's seen in almost ten years."
Dammit. I haven't even had these metabands for a full day yet and already my 'secret' identity is blown.
It's not my fault; I'm new at this. I should geta do-over, but I somehow doubt that option is on the table.
Wait.
Maybe these are the type of bands that some fringe theorists suspected allowed for some type of limited time travel into the past?
Nah, I'm never that lucky.
"Hello?" Joe says.
Oh. Right. I was talking with him. Got lost in my own mind.
"So?" he asks.
"I don't know what to say, Joe. I can't lie to you. It's true," I say. What choice do I have at this point? He's caught me red handed.
Lying isn't an option any more. Even though he's my own brother, I would not be able to trust him with a secret this big.
It's too dangerous for him to know. Hell, I can't even trust myself with a secret this big. He'll try his best to keep it a secret, I know he will, but eventually he'll slip.
It'll be an accidentof course, but that doesn't mean everything won't change. The first metahuman in ten years?
Something tells me that the government will bemore than a little interested in talking with me. Keeping me in a cell.
Dismantling the world's only working metabands, even if that means cutting my arms off to get to them.
"So what did he look like?" Derrick asks.
There's no use in lying, so I tell him the truth.
"He was disgusting. Sweaty and dirty. Greasy hair and thick glasses. He looked exactly like what you would think someone capable of that would look like," I tell him.
"What? No! Not the pervert, I don't care what he looked like. No. What did the meta look like?" he asks me.
"The what?" I reply confused.
"The meta! The meta that saved the kid, and not to mention your ass, obviously. What did he look like? Was he here? Is that how you got in here undetected?! Oh my God, I can't believe this. An actual real-life meta! This is insane!" Joe practically screams.
"So you're not mad at me?" I ask, hopeful.
"I'm furious at you, but I'll deal with that later. What did he look like? Was he wearing a suit. Wait! Was it a she?! What powers did they have? Obviously they can teleport, that's how you got here. And they must have some type of super strength based on the number of pieces they found that perv in."
He's pacing around my room. I've never seen him so excited.
"I'm going to go let the reporters know that you're here. They cannot wait to talk to you," Joe says as he leaves the room.
I feel the back of my shirt and it feels dirt-crusted. I grab it and twist my torso to look at what it is.
Oh, right. It's about a gallon of my own dried blood. Almost forgot about that. The whole 'almost dying' thing.
I peel the sweatshirt off and throw my shirt under my bed. I'll deal with it later, I'm certainly not going to try to explain it now.
After fishing through mydresser, I find a clean shirt and quickly throw it on.
As much as I was not prepared for the experience I had in the woods thenight before, I am even less prepared for what greets me as I step out my front door.
There must be at least a hundred reporters from all around the world. Satellite trucks line the street outside for at least two blocks in eitherdirection.
Some of the news organizations have even built scaffolding, just so their camera crews could get a shot of my house over the absolute sea of people crowded outside.
Even though it's still early morning, I'm blinded by the lights attached to all of their cameras.
Microphones are thrust intomy face as my eyes struggle to adjust to the daylight and flashing bulbs.