Super or Hero?
Disclaimer in first chapter.
A/N: This is slightly early because exam week is here and lord knows when I'll find the time to write/post more. So yeah, most of you guessed who I chose to dress up in the third costume (not that there was much in the way of mystery) so this is HIS perspective on things.
The basement was cool and quiet. Boxes were stacked haphazardly at one end, while an entertainment center was at the other – complete with all manner of electronic gaming devices and a multitude of books and action figures. Two overstuffed lazy-boys and a few beanbag chairs dotted the main floor, resting on a ratty carpet. Towards the middle of the area there was a desk and the newest item in the entire room: a computer.
At the desk sat a teenage boy, scrutinizing a cheap spandex costume in the light cast by his lamp and computer screen. The typical red, blue, and yellow of the Superman uniform (with sewn in muscles for that classic "superhero" aesthetic) looked normal enough at first. It was only after a thorough search that the boy had found the strange sigil carved into the bottom of both the boot's heels: a head with two faces pointing in opposite directions. One quick google search later, and he was looking at a page on "Janus": the Roman god of beginnings, endings, and doorways.
He frowned at the computer screen, "Doorways… Janus… why is that familiar?" Eyes widening, he jumped out of his chair so quickly he spun around and tripped over a beanbag chair. "Ow," he said, blinking. Shaking his head, he stood – this time more carefully – and made his way over to one of the many bookshelves that lined the walls.
The teen traced one finger along the spines of the books, mouthing their titles silently as he searched for a book on – "Chaos magic!" He settled himself on the floor and flipped it open to the index, looking specifically for gods. "Janus, Janus, Janus, Janus
… hah! 'God of possibilities and the multiple universes of choice…'
Sighing, he slumped back down onto the floor and stared at the ceiling – decorated with glow-in-the-dark stars mimicking various constellations. He remembered last night vividly: taking his group of trick-or-treaters out and having a pretty good time and then suddenly becoming Superman. As the superhero, he'd been startled by the sudden change of scenery, but quickly set to work saving as many of the people around him as he could. The magic that had permeated the town had kept him from using his x-ray vision, but his heat-vision worked very
well on vampires and his strength and speed were more than enough to take care of everything else he ran into.
When the spell wore off he was halfway through subduing a large werewolf that was about to take a bite out of some pixies. The wolf became a classmate and the pixies turned into two of the children they were supposed to have been watching – and he was left wondering what the hell had happened. He remembered his actions, though it was very dreamlike and oddly objective: as if he'd been watching someone else pilot his body, which was basically what had happened. He also
remembered snippets of Superman's life on the farm in Smallville, college and then getting set up in Metropolis as a reporter for the Planet
and hero on the sly.
His memories of last night could
have been a hallucination… except for the fact that some of the people he remembered saving and taking to Sunnydale Memorial had
been injured, and in exactly the same ways he'd 'imagined'. He had skipped school and taken a walk around the downtown area, looking at the damage and comparing it to what he remembered and it matched up perfectly, right down to the fist-sized hole he'd punched through the dumpster outside the Magic Box. Of course, his hacking of the hospital and police records (which were pretty much nonexistent) hadn't revealed only injuries…
Jonathon scowled, remembering what the coroner's report had said. There were casualties, in spite of all that he had done as Superman. He wondered if those people had died while he – Superman
– had caught his bearings, he wondered if he could have done anything to prevent those deaths. Jonathon's memories of the screams and the terror of that night were vivid, far stronger than his memories of Superman's/ Clark Kent's/ Kal-El's earlier life, though those had stuck around too.
He was looking at the world with new eyes, now. Something had happened last night, something that science could not explain – therefore it must have been magic. It wasn't that hard for him to make the shift; he'd lived in and out of various fantasy worlds his whole life. Finding out that the mythical could be, and probably was
factual was less a revelation and more a confirmation of something he'd always secretly believed. Yet the elation that he would have expected to flower within him at the realization that magic was real wasn't there. Any excitement he might have felt was swallowed by those eight deaths and twenty-something injuries, all that pain that could have been prevented – that he
could have stopped. He'd dreamed of magic, but none of his dreams had gone like this. He'd wanted alohomora
and wingardium leviosa
, not avada kedavra
Jonathon sat up and wiped his eyes, clearing away the moisture that had gathered there. So magic was real, he'd been the victim of a spell – what now? What was he gonna do about it? Forget all about Halloween and go on with his life? No, he couldn't do that. Not now that he knew the truth. He had to learn more, find out what had happened and who had done it. He had to find all that out, so he could prevent it from happening again. His dreams of magic and the ultimate quick-fix were dying, burying themselves in the part of his heart reserved for his dashed hopes and broken dreams.
Being Superman had been awesome, amazing, everything he could have dreamed what with the flying and the nearly limitless power… but it had come at a heavy price. He couldn't be detached from suffering, not when he'd been so up-close-and-personal to it the night before. Just remembering the blood and the screams was enough to make his stomach roll, but he couldn't repress those memories. Jonathon didn't feel he had a right to do that, a right to forget what sort of pain there was in the world.
"Magic is real, and really dangerous. Vampires and werewolves and everything else, that's probably real too." Giddiness swelled up in him like a giant bubble, but it popped at the thought of all of the 'barbecue fork' incidents that dotted the obituary column of the school newspaper… and come to think of it, what kind of school had an obituary column
in their newspaper!
Logging on with his hacker ID – sithseeker12, Jonathon set to work digging up all the strange information on Sunnydale that he could. His eyes were opened and he couldn't unsee all that he'd seen, but now that he knew, maybe he could make a difference. Maybe.
A/N2: Like, love, loathe? Lemme know!