Now It Was Time For …
Written by castor :: [Friday, 03 October 2014 23:14] Last updated by :: [Saturday, 04 October 2014 08:47]
NOW IT WAS TIME FOR …
(special thanks to Dru for editing and proofreading)
She was flying.
Wasn’t that special?
I watched her from the building, the little girl on the bicycle, the little read Schwinn, as the hands let her go. It wasn’t a particularly fast ride, 5 miles an hour at most- but she pedaled down the street like a madwoman with a look of confidence and grace on her face that amazed me.
Until she fell over on what looked to be an extremely small bump.
I could have flown down there, picked her up in an instant (well, 1/20th of a second but whose counting).
But then her father came over. A big strong man who looking down from the building a quarter mile away did look somehow smaller … but then he picked her up right off the ground in tremendous feet of super strength. She must have 60 or so pounds!! Then he picked her up and hugged her, and hugged her close. She looked a second that she was going to cry but instead put her head against his body.
“Let’s try again honey,” he said.
“Everyone falls down a couple of times … but you’ll get it … the trick is balance.”
I sat backwards on the building. You see this all the time in comics movies – what people don’t always get is all the bird shit up here, all the crap that accumulates in places people don’t go. But I sat down and hugged my long beautiful legs to my my large rippling chest, covered in fabric that looked like it was melted from the candles of the gods as it covered me. It was surprisingly warm most of the time, despite covering so little of my modelesque body. However it didn’t feel as warm as that hug would have felt. As my flawless skin fell on flawless skin and I hugged myself, as my arch muscled bent and flowed cross me and danced, as I nuzzled my beautiful face into my knees and long raven hair fell over it … it was intimacy of a sorts..
But not like that.
I barely heard him say “Okay lets try this again. Remember to stay steady and …”
Flash forward 3 years later.
It’s the same girl. She’s about 9, and has managed to slip away from her house, riding a different larger but still special bike. Riding away from her life. She’s bigger obviously but still not big. She would never get all that big. But she had slipped away with some friends down to a little creek a mile away from her house. It flowed through something by academic standards that could be called a wood, but was probably more correctly an overly treed suburb – did she knew that.
She was nine. An awkward nine of limbs a little to long for her body, dark hair of a tangled mess, of silly looking glasses on her face that I could remember.
I was sitting in a tree. Well can’t one be a voyeur.
“That Sentinel … wow,” said one of her friends. “She just saved New York.”
That had been something. Ripples in the time space continuum had an unleashed a swarm of aliens. They hadn’t quite been invaders really, as they weren’t intelligent. More like a swarm of intergalactic bees, if bees had been bear-like monsters with vicious claws that had been made to rip and tear. Hundreds had died – but people still said wow as I had come in and smashed them into bits of goo and punched one of them into Iceland. They had bit me and grabbed me, and I felt nothing.
I rarely did.
But I did do a crude patch-up job on the inter dimensional fabric of the universe, using my core powers to do so, feeling the cosmic forces rush against me in something – and that had hurt – that felt like something – slimy yes, but something. For a second I waited in the fabric between worlds and …
“Someday I’ll be as powerful as she was,” said the young girl named Danica. “Someday.”
Wow. Had she really said that?
Then she and her friend walked on the river and played with sticks near a pond of minnows. They laughed. I watched them laugh.
Six moths latter: The Zoo. She sees a Giant Otter for the first time. It’s not a particularly large giant. But she loves it anyway.
Six months afterward: she gets her first “boyfriend” in a ritualistic exchange of stickers. They kiss in the kind of awkward way 12 years old that I felt just slightly pervy for watching. His name is Rick. He’s nice and he makes her feel special, not like an awkward girl growing up.
Time passes. The little girl grows up as I watch her from time to time looking in at her. She had been a little hard to find at first, but shes there.
In between I save the world.
Once Twice three times.
Earthquakes are big. Forest Fires I blow out with my super breath until there’s nothing left.
Crime is not so much a problem. I stopped some terrorists a couple of times from strange foreign locals. Arson is surprisingly damaging and common. People are destructive in ways that you can’t imagine until you see it. But things like bank robberies – they’re child’s play. Worth my time I suppose, as much as I have, but not really.
Bullets did not harm me. Not even pretend. When a bullet hits my breast it didn’t even cause the flesh to ripple. I have been shot plenty. Bombs. Grenades. No atomic bombs yet, but I suspected the answer and didn’t want the vanity of trying. I had no kryptonite – well one, but not yet.
I could lift all the weights. I could have moved the Earth if I wanted. But it always moved.
Sometimes I watch other people. People on the street, people in restaurants. At home. The rich, the poor, the happy, the sad. I like the happy ones best.
When I first started this I would sometimes try to put on normal clothing, shirts pants, pretty pretty dresses and walk around them, pretend I was normal, Clark Kenting through the world. Didn’t work. I wasn’t just the face on the news. Something about me, looked *different*. As if my very aura projected a sense that people could tell. An Awe. I was Awe inspiring now. A living Goddess of power and majesty.
For the first couple of years I liked it. I would accept the keys to cities, sit in their parades and watch them wave, smile in interviews with the papers. But then it started to – not so much bore me – as feel hollow. Even with those who I knew, it felt just the edge of hollow genuflections from the congregation.
And so I stopped doing it.
However I did still save people. Its what I did. Pride, sense of duty I did. Because they were people. And I remembered people.
And I started watching little Danica as gradually she grew up into a teenager.
And she did grow. By the time she was 14 it was over she was about 5’11. She was very thin. While my chest could be only be described as “Spectacular” hers was non existent” G to the A. Her body looked a little bony slight. It had been said on the average fashion model there are 9 angles where they are the most beautiful creature in gods existence – and one where they look freakish. She had about 5 and 5.
But she was pretty. Not the prettiest or the most popular in school but boys took interest in her and she had a power. For someone that previously could feel a little lost in things … it was an experience.
I would sometimes watch her as she talked, smiled flittered in and out with them. She never went all the way or anything … but they were there. It made thoughts about giant otters and minnows and even dolls disappear which was perhaps a shame. She had lost something and only perhaps I could see it. She argued with her father about this and that and she lost something else, though I could see in her eyes even she was aware of it dimly the way an ashore teenager could see.
Meanwhile the monster attacks were growing more frequent. I could feel them vaguely pushing against the walls of the universe at the edges of time. They weren’t intelligent as you may think it – they didn’t need to be. People are only intelligent because million of years ago apes were worried about lions. These were the lions, and they were hungry. Monstrous bears, creatures from strange geometries, with teeth where there should be no teeth. They attacked and I fought them off. I was more powerful then they where. I knew this, but I was only so fast. They did damage. In Goa or Mumbai – attracted to people to feed on. It seemed all they wanted was people.
And I wanted.
But not like that.
When she was sixteen a sweet boy named Jamal – an Indian immigrant with a suave disposition and beautiful lips -kissed her one night after a party. Kissed and kissed.. I didn’t actually watch this – I was off dealing with an earthquake in Capetown – and I am somewhat glad for it anyway. There was something private in that, that she would share with him.
I did watch the next morning when she woke up, when she called her best friend on her little Hello Kitty phone and told her in more pornographic methods then what you might imagine of what happened. I watched as she snuggled (alone) in bed watch her laze and frolic in joy at the encounter.
After that day they barely talked, of course. You would think it would be some great break – and while she felt sad … not really not even by her standard. It was the start of something.
And I was there to watch.
But somehow I didn’t really want to any more
But I was there to watch.
I went one day to a makeup school. Got a good wig of blonde hair some fake tan stuff and..
Went to the beach the Venice boardwalk and took in the sun.
I got a drink of fruits mixed together..and they tasted fruity
It was pleasant. Sweet even.
I sat in the shade, and I could feel that it was cooler in the sun and enjoyed it, listen Rastafarian music from a street performer.
It was …
People gawked. Now I was a blonde super model, not the worlds protector. It was a subtle difference but one that made it a little more palatable. The drink maker even asked for money, which was a nice touch for me. I had some in a purse I had gotten for the occasion and it felt nice to remember it. It was a real transaction of money for goods that you don’t really miss until you loose them. It felt good to be slightly poorer, to be in a position of that.
And I sat.
A guy walked up to me. A very confident guy I could tell. He was handsome and friendly. We talked briefly. I lied to him plenty but people lie all the time. I never could tell his name, but after his drink was over he took me to his place and we fucked. I had done it before a couple of times..but this … this was … difrent. Things like orgasm isms are words that men describe sex and release – I had those before could feel them. But after watching Danica feel the touch of another it brought back a desire.
In the book The Last Unicorn, the Unicorn meets a dead skeleton who wants, above all, wine. He can’t drink it of course – no stomach; no mouth – not really. But wants it – because he can remember. It wasn’t good wine but …
That’s what it was like. I was remembering sex, and it satisfied.
After it was over I held him close. My wig had fallen off. My sweat had covered his makeup. He looked like he had enjoyed it which filled me with some satisfaction
Then he did something
He stroked my cheek.
Just stroked it softly with his fingers.
A half an hour latter I flew out of his apartment to deal with a cosmic empowered storm in the Canadian Rockies. I left my clothes and my purse as I didn’t need them again. Like Jamal I never called him again or talked and …
Danica and I became sexual beings. I wasn’t a slut, she wasn’t either, not really … but she dated a string of teenage boys and as often let them share her bed. It told her she was alive that she was pretty and desirable.
I started doing the same. Well except for the teenage boys part. I went for men – some women to but I quickly discovered enough vanity left to prefer them. And my motives were different. I knew I was pretty and desirable. I did it to feel. And I did.
I didn’t do it every night, or even every week or month but as the years went on still did it. Perhaps because some of them where beasts and assholes who fell asleep the second they came in my mouth. It was a little bit of a challenge one-not the getting but the choosing. And it was a challenge I found I enjoyed.
As did she.
I felt connection to her, not just nostalgia – we shared something now. I felt alive for the first time in forever … and it felt like I was out of my magic castle …
The breakages between the dimension where growing more frequent and the world was aware. They perhaps guessed I was involved.. They had started when I appeared, but beyond accusations they started to study it. The hadron collisions that made dimensions weaker. Alarming reports came out that in 100 years that the universe it self might collapse do to there powers. They where over dramatic-with my knowledge I could estimate it would take millions of years for the world to end by it … was a slow leak, but still a slow leak. Humanity may be eaten far sooner then that.
Science studied it. Reports where commissions careers where made.
At MIT a special task was setup to try to create a way to artificially end it for good, to close the gap by sending large particles less then the size of atoms into it enough to close the gap forever.
Danica Got accepted to MIT. She was quite smart. I didn’t mention that because like the facts of high school they ended up having little import.
On the day she got into MIT I went into a bar in Boston to get used to it. It wasn’t rowdy men talking about the pats or the sox. But a quiet little place. I sat and drank a beer. They didn’t card me.
He walked in.
His name was Richard Harris. Not the actor, but he got that. He was a man of average appearance. Nothing special – perhaps a little more muscular than average, or on his lean frame it looked more apparent. He worked in something involving imports and exports.
That wasn’t important. But what was important was what happened.
He rejected me. He had a busy day the next day,
He rejected me.
That made me smile. It was a connection … a real connection of loss, but one abstractly it felt. Like the alien slime is a weird but apt comparison.
Every night the rest of the week I went in there. I discovered they made a decent martini. I went in and felt as she moved into campus to get to know it.
He didn’t come.
Wow this was fun. The chase!!!
I smiled often.
Introductory classes. How to avoid rape and alcohol in that order. Intros to critical thinking … yahahada
He came in 7 days later. I got his number. No sex. A date!!
I wondered. Was he gay or something … was it that late?
I found a gay guy at a bar. In 20 minutes I had him the sack. I don’t think I cured him or anything but … well they could respond.
So here he was.
Maybe he was trying to resist me because he knew it would make the dance better.
Cause we didn’t fuck after that date. Nope. Joy.
Three months past and things continued. We dated. We talked. I didn’t tell him my secret, though I suspected he knew. Why have unpleasant conversations? I learned strange things of the world of import export and his love of the show True Crime. I had fun. Real fun.
She did too. She broke some hearts, broke some rules … and …
She found a boy named Sam. He smiled at her, and she stopped breaking them.
I of course eventually wore my man down. He was good in bed, very good – and after it was over I thought to fly away but …
Well I didn’t.
It wasn’t my time.
During the days I did fight crime – call it what you will – but the void, the edge of reality, felt oddly silent. No breaks, no tears – just still. Maybe it was waiting … knowing …
At the end of her freshman year she was accepted into the physics program – well, that was her major. They got her a very junior internship at the research program. And the story was reaching its end. I knew this.
She didn’t. She told Sam and despite being as close to MIT had to a jock (which wasn’t much) was overjoyed. He took her out to a steak dinner.
I walked one night at the beach. With Mr. Harris that night.
“I’m the sentinel,” I told him, in those award winning words.
“I know,” he said.
Well that rooks things.
“But I love you anyway.”
Anyway? That felt oddly dramatic.
But then it hit me. The feeling in response. It was a feeling. A feeling of dare and insult..and emotion.
“I love you too,” I said, as I tasted the wine.
“Are you telling me this because its over?” he asked.
“I hope not.”
Well, there was that.
I didn’t want it to be. Though we talked very little that night until an awkward silence closed the evening
But for the rest of the summer we spent time together. Good times.
She spent time preparing for it, thinking it was the start of the beautiful career – a wonderful life. I heard her phone calls talking about it with excitement-she called her dad one night.
“I think he’s going to ask me to marry him.”
“Well, if he does I hope he doesn’t do the thing where he asks me first,” her dad said.
“It’s rather sexist,” he explained.
“I love you dad,” Danica said. “I don’t tell you that often enough.”
I sighed as I listened, and remembered the girl on the bicycle.
I thought about marrying Richard. Go to Vegas, become man and wife for a brief moment … I knew the beats of the story but not the music, and this was the song, the dirge of the end.
She went back to school, and learned the program was going to be a test, to bombard the galactic barrier with powerful things that looked like lasers and acted like them but did not shoot light but palatable darkness instead. She was fascinated though she didn’t quite know the physics.
She was going to be there the night the program started, and the story began.
I watched this as well. I had to.
They hadn’t made a mistake. It wasn’t a bug but a feature. Channeled into the right focus it would close the rift between the universe and repair the rift. The right focus wasn’t one of the tusks of the bear monsters. It was me. And it was her.
Or it was just me?
Because that was the trick of course. Without me it would just blow up the lab and kill thousands, open a rift to the bear dimension where they could pour in and probably eat New England.
Unless I was there to stop it.
The mighty Sentinel flew into the building when the reaction went out of control, hoping to stop it. Danica went in to try to help a scientist who was trapped under rubble.
This is where my … our stories ended. Where Danica Lewis, Physics student gets bombarded by unstable radiation and gains powers and abilities beyond imagination – the powers of negative time entering her body. The powers that sent her back to the moment of her birth to watch it all again as the mighty SENTINEL!!!
It also killed me. And the energies that I was dispersed across the walls of reality make the rift permanently closed and the universe safer, saner – perhaps duller. My origin story was thus the end.
The rip in the fabric of the universe was really a rip in time itself – my powers was the force of matter being flown back gaining the energy of a small sun as it collected dust on a windshield. My power was time. But I had no real control. Well one bit.
I had a choice. Close the loop. Die and save millions, or … or live with beautiful Richard, he of a straggly little beard … and …
But that wasn’t a choice really or maybe my choice had been made earlier
I was a superhero. There was no reason for that.
Or maybe there was. Humans have terrible memories. Even the things we recall we tint for good or bad to favor our selfish selves. But I could see myself. Danica was no saint. She could be mean she could be petty even to people she loved. The more tired she got the quicker she was to anger – often for little or no reason. There were those who called her a bitch behind her back, and they may not have been wrong. Yet there was something in her that did care about people, that did legitimately want to help people in need or people in general. This was a person who after finding themselves back in time dazed and confused first thought was “I must protect it!”. A person who died trying to save other people’s lives.
Well maybe that was human. After all these years of being a god, that was still true. I should have remembered that long ago. Now it was time to …
The night before it happened I went to Robert’s place and kissed him.
Then jumped into the sky.
And I Flew.