Blog of an Ex-Teen Superhero

[guardian_of_hope]

I'm not sure how many changes this story is going to undergo in the coming months. However, I thought I would share some of it with whoever actually reads my journal. This is the prologue...I may add some more chapters, but that will wait until I'm done fixing and finishing.

 

It was safe to say that the only reason he was not more miserable on this stormy Friday night was that the roof was not leaking. It was, for him, one of those days that would get worse just because the universe hated him and wanted him to suffer. Had anyone else been out on this night, they would have, for an instant, pitied him. He drove a car that was easily fifteen years from being new, with a logo for one of the cheap and notorious pizza parlors on the doors. He dressed in the 'uniform', read a t-shirt with the pizza parlor's slogan and blue jeans that had seen better days. In fact, just about the only part of him that was not scruffy or old were his shoes. They were an off-brand pair of running shoes that looked, if not brand new, than better taken care of than anything else the young man had. Even his black hair was of a length too long to be neat and too short to be anything other than scruffy.

As more lightning turned the sky into day, the driver slowed down at a red light. His car grumbled for a moment before idling and his phone rang with Vader's music from Star Wars. "Hello?" he said as he absently patted the steering wheel in a silent prayer that the car would keep working.

"Have you delivered the pizza yet?" The gravelly voice of his boss, Mr. Ian Woon, sounded as if he had smoked one too many cigarettes years ago and had yet to stop.

"Mr. Woon," the driver said, instinctively straightening, even if his boss couldn't see him through the phone, "Um, no, but I'm less than a block away. I'm at a red light." He glanced up as more lightning lit up the sky. "The storm's causing some flooding. I had to take a detour because of a road block."

"Remember," Mr. Woon said, and then coughed. For a moment, the driver wondered if Woon was going to finally hack up that lung of his. "I hear one more complaint about a pizza delivery; you are out of a job."

"Yes sir," He replied, even though it was clear his boss had already hung up. He dropped the cell phone on his seat as the light turned green. He pressed the gas, the car started to roll forward, but only at about five miles an hour. "What the hell?" He asked, pushing the gas all the way down. The engine roared, but the car would not move. "Shit." He swore, and flicked on his blinker, rolling into the first driveway he spotted. It was a closed gas station. He parked and shut the car off, then leaned back in his seat. "Fuck," he whispered.

He looked out his window and then at the pizza in the passenger seat. Thunder growled and he ran his finger over a raised ring of flesh on his wrist. He closed his eyes for a moment and then opened them just as another flash of lightning lit his car. The harsh shadows created by the lightning created an eerie, demonic cast to his slanted eyes. Once more he looked at the sky, then at the pizza and his cell phone. Muttering something that was drowned out by the thunder, he unbuckled his seat belt, picked up the pizza, and read the directions taped on top of the box. With a deep breath, he put his keys in his pocket, swung the door open and let himself out of the door. He slammed it with a great deal force more than he really needed to do. Then he was off, running down the street.

To an outside observer, the passage of the young man would have been a blur, leaving no impression that there had been anything more than a gust of wind. Trash was tossed in his wake and the rain drops swirled in his passing. Finally, he came to an apartment complex filled to near bursting with college students if the window decorations tended to be any clue. He slowed down as he came under the overhang of one of the buildings and checked the mostly dry directions on top. With a cough he trotted up the stairs to the top floor and walked down the balcony.

He reached the apartment he was looking for and glanced around; making sure that no one had spotted him. Then he lifted his hand and knocked loudly on the door. "What the hell do you want?" Someone said as they opened the door.

"Tony's Pizza," the young man replied holding up the box, he kept his face pleasant, because it was not his fault that the kid probably had not started studying for finals until tonight; the day before the tests would begin. "I have a delivery for Michael Rycker."

"Right," the kid in the doorway replied, he turned, "Michael! Pizza guy."

Another man came out into the hallway with a roar of sound following him, "I got it, Rex, thanks." He said.

The young man stepped back slightly as the two people inside switched places. "Right, what do I owe you?" The new man said, pushing a set of glasses up his nose, emphasizing the Asian aspect of his features.

"Eleven sixty-nine," the young man replied, tugging on his shirt with one hand.

"Right," Michael said, taking out his wallet. He withdrew a twenty and held it out, "Keep the change man- Shit, really? What are you doing here?" Michael's eyes widened in recognition.

The young man lifted his chin and smirked, "I believe I'm delivering," he plucked the twenty from Michael's hand, "Your pizza." The young man shoved the box into Michael's hand and the older man took it reflexively, still looking as if he had been stunned. The delivery guy took his wallet out of his pocket and began to count out the change.

"I told you, keep the change," Michael said, shaking his head and coming out of his stupor.

"If I did, my boss would have a nice bonus," the young man replied. He held up the change and put it on top of the pizza box, then flashed Michael a bright smile and in his brightest voice added, "Have a great evening and thank you for choosing Tony's Pizza." He turned and walked away, ignoring any aborted attempts to catch his attention.

Once he was in the shadows of the stairwell and sure that no one followed him, the young man rubbed his wrist again and took off, returning to his car seemingly faster than he had left it. There, sitting in the driver's seat, he made the phone call. "Tony's Pizza?" His boss growled into the phone.

"Mr. Woon?" The young man said.

"You! What happened?" Mr. Woon demanded.

"Well, the good news is, I delivered the pizza," the young man said. "The bad news is my car has broken down."

"Again? That is the fourth time this month. If you did not want this job, you should have quit. It's too late now, you're fired." Mr. Woon shouted.

The young man flinched at the force with which his now former boss slammed the phone down. He sighed and looked at his phone. For a moment, his finger hovered over a single button, but instead, he pressed a different one. "Jimmy's Towing," a voice said over the line.

"Sandra, it's…" the young man trailed off.

"You broke down again." Sandra said, in that no nonsense, cigarette roughened voice she used on the job.

"Yeah," the young man said. "I'm at the old Chevron on Ninth and Southward."

"I'll send Jimmy out. Are you ok?" Sandra asked.

"I'm just effing peachy," the young man said. "Woon fired me this time."

"That's awful, but at least you're not at that job anymore, I know how much you hated it." Sandra said, her voice slipping into the younger, Southern accent that was her natural speaking voice.

"You're accent is slipping," the young man said lightly.

"Bite me," Sandra replied. "Jimmy's on his way."

"Thanks Sandra." The young man replied.

"Kid, you saved Jimmy's life. The least we can do is help you with your car when you need it." Sandra said.

"Sandra, I thought we agreed no one talks about that. I could get in a lot of trouble."

"I know honey."

The young man turned, "Jimmy's here that was fast."

"He was dropping off a car over there. I'll talk to you later."

"You to, Sandra." The young man said and got out of his car to meet the mechanic, wondering what would happen now.

The rain had stopped, mostly, when the young man finally reached his apartment. He let himself in quietly and headed into the bathroom. When he came out, he was wearing a pair of sweats and a black t-shirt with the words: "A psychic read my mind once. She's still running." He threw himself on his bed with a groan and stared at the ceiling. After a moment, he reached over, picked up his phone, and dialed a number. "You have three new messages," the voice mail told him.

"All right," he muttered sarcastically and hit the button to play them.

"This is your mother calling."

"Not today, mother darling." He hit a button.

"Message erased."

"Not tomorrow either, for that matter. Or just about any day now that I think about it." He added as the phone rattled off the date and time for the next message.

"Hey PR, it's your friendly, neighborhood LOL Cat. Call me."

"God, what is wrong with you, idiot." He hit a button.

"Message erased."

"Hey PR, it's me. Call me. It's kind of important and it's about…look, just call me, ok?"

"Crap, not again. Date her or break up with her. Dumbass idiot. You should never have started dating her in the first place if you don't like her." He hit a button.

"Message erased."

"Pathetic," he muttered and put the phone back on the table. "You can tell how lame someone is by the number and variety of calls he gets." He added. He stared at the ceiling again, counting the number of broken tiles. Then he reached for his laptop and opened it. In moments, he was on the internet, and as his home page popped up, he frowned. "Really, man?" He asked, glancing up as if there was someone else in the efficiency with him. "Dumbass." He muttered, looking down at the laptop again.

He looked back down at his laptop and frowned at the header of the page; NEXXUS FORUM, A FAN SITE FOR THE NEXXUS FIVE.

He shrugged after a moment and clicked on the forum link. At the top were five links to the so-called 'hottest' topics on the form. One, entitled Where they are now… caught his attention and he opened it.

After a few moments of reading, it was only his hard won self control that kept him from tossing the laptop across the room; "What is wrong with people?" He asked the empty room. "They can't seriously think…" he frowned and glanced at the laptop and then at the table beside his bed, where a single picture rested. Then he turned back to his computer, "You only live once," he muttered before clicking on the various links to get himself registered and ready to write a reply to the rabid fans…

You cannot seriously think that Nexxus Speed and the others spend their time in Miami, of ALL places, drinking drinks that they, being under the age of twenty-one, cannot legally purchase. Besides, have you ever tried a mojito? I have not, but I have it on good authority that mint toothpaste tastes better. You also cannot seriously think that they are insanely rich. I mean, how could they claim anything when they are keeping their identities a secret. The taxes alone would put paid to the idea that they had any sort of secret identity. I know for an absolute fact that Nexxus Speed is currently unemployed and he drives a Ford Pinto that spends more time in the shop than it does in his parking spot and the only reason he can even get it fixed is because he knows a mechanic who learned his secret identity and does the work at a discount and on a payment plan. Because, you know, he would never dream of letting someone give him something for free. That is what a celebrity wants, not a superhero. Celebrities want people to know who they are, they want pictures taken, their words shared in newspapers and magazines. Superheroes just want people to not shoot them when they are trying to help, or to not try to reveal their identity in the middle of a big battle.

Heck, none of the Nexxus Five lives the life of luxury. They work hard; they take care of each other when needed. In addition, they kick each other's behind when they will not ask for help and they need it. Of course, that is mostly just Nexxus Speed, but he is a stubborn idiot like that. Nexxus Path and Port are attending college, Nexxus Cannon is off becoming a soldier or something and Nexxus Strength, last I heard, was with Greenpeace or some such organization saving animals most people have never heard of and fewer still actually care about for longer than it takes to get their name on a news letter for their exceptionally generous donations. Honestly, some people just make me sick. Do not bother telling me I do not know anything because I know exactly what I am talking about more so than any one of you idiots who think you know who the Nexxus Five are and what they're like.

For those who want to know who I am, well, just call me…Deke for right now.

As for whom I was, the world calls me Nexxus Speed.