The Stryx Spreads Its Wings (Original Superhero Short) (Patreon)

Damien flexed the gloves, testing the fit. They were originally a pair of rubber gloves, but now there were five flash drives with a cobbled together extension leading to the USB ports at the fingertips. Taking a deep breath, he reached out to the ones and zeroes that he could feel resting in the flash drives. The formerly dark room lit up a vibrant blue as claws shot out of the ports at his fingertips.

“Well, the board did say that most supers found powers fairly instinctual,” the teen muttered to himself as he turned his hand this way and that, looking at the claws made of data.

From the side, they looked to be made of ones and zeroes, scrolling past almost faster than he could follow. Turning his hand, the edge of the claws seemed to vanish, only visible because of the light they shed. Cutting the pull to all but one claw, he carefully brought the edge of the sole remaining claw to a piece of rebar he had picked up in an alleyway.

The result scared Damien, the claw didn’t cut, it glided through the metal. Putting the data back into the flash drive, he took his gloves off before picking up the two pieces of rebar. The metal was still cool, and he had never seen such a clean cut in anything!

“I can’t use these on people,” he muttered as he looked at the metal.

Shaking his head, Damien set the metal aside as he turned to look at the rest of his “costume” that he had assembled. It basically consisted of budget Kevlar woven into a shirt and pair of jeans, combat boots, and a ski mask. He was a sixteen-year-old without a job, he couldn’t really afford much else. The pseudo-kevlar and flash drives ate up most of his spending money for the last six months.

Shaking his head, Damien started to put on the costume. The gangs had to pay.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“I thought this was going to be easier,” Damien said to himself as he lay upon the rooftop, gasping.

Even after six months of running and parkour, he was still exhausted after a ten-minute patrol. Getting up to the rooftops was also a lot harder than he had planned on. Originally he was planning on using his claws as grips, but even digging them in sideways resulted in cutting gouges out of the buildings when his fingers flexed as he climbed.

“Being a superhero is so hard, but it’s still awesome!” he thought aloud as he pulled himself into a sitting position.

He was pulled from his thoughts by elevated voices in the alleyway down below. Carefully moving over to the edge of the building, he saw two groups of people, mostly men, arguing and an unconscious, ebony-skinned girl that looked to be around his age tied to a chair with duct tape over her mouth. There were fifteen people total, seven in each group and the girl.

Damien wasn’t stupid or suicidal, he knew that if he went down there to try to stop them, he’d die. A small smirk spread across his face as he thought, Good thing I have the power for that.

Focusing on the two men that seemed to be in charge of each group, Damien narrowed his eyes as he stared that the closest one, and the bald head that shined in the streetlight. Almost immediately, the man stopped talking and took a deep breath, the tension leaving him as he visibly calmed down.

“Fine, you don’t want to pay, then the deal is off. I’m sure Militia can find someone else who is interested,” the now calm man said as he motioned to the people behind him.

Spine turning to ice upon hearing who they worked for, Damien almost missed his opportunity. Turning his gaze slightly to focus on the other man, a tall and skinny man wearing a stereotypical biker outfit, the man’s face almost instantly went red.

Not saying a word, the man stepped up to his counterpart and placed a hand on his shoulder. Almost immediately, the first man fell to the ground in a pile of severed limbs, his head rolling away. Drawing a gun from his belt in the same motion, the man shot two of the rival gang members in the time it took Damien to realize who he was.

Shit, shit, SHIT! Damien screamed in his mind as his mind raced. The boards online had mentioned him, goes by Sever (for now obvious reasons), can cause things to fall apart by touching them, gain strength and durability from starlight, and grant certain organic features to his weapons. Damien had never been gladder about light pollution.

The sound of gunshots continued to ring out, Militia’s men dying as the girl woke up. It was at this moment that Damien felt something fall into place in his mind. His eyes widened as he realized what his most potent power was. Ever since he Awakened he had been trying to figure out what his fourth power was, ever super had four powers but he could only figure out three.

“I can copy powers,” Damien muttered to himself in shock.

“Put the girl in the truck, we need to be back in Nevada before sunrise,” Sever’s voice, surprisingly high pitched, drew Damien’s focus back. The six goons were walking over to the now struggling girl, who’s thrashing revealed a recognizable collar around her neck.

Instantly Damien knew what he needed to do. Moving back a short distance, he started running towards the alley. Pushing off of the edge, he pulled two gigabytes from each flash drive, the blue glow from the claws lighting up the alley. Digging his claws into the wall, he pushed the data back and dropped down right behind the girl. Pressing his hand to the power-suppressing collar, it promptly fell to the ground in a pile of metal dust.

As a yellow aura lit up around her, Damien focused his gaze on each goon and triggered one of the most primal emotions to man: fear. The six goons took off towards the truck, scrambling inside. By the time Damien turned to face Sever, the man’s open hand was reaching for his face.

Throwing himself to the side, Damien frantically thought of how to deal with Sever, he couldn’t alter the man’s emotions again so soon, and he didn’t want to kill him either. The answer came from the former prisoner. Having managed to free herself from the chair, she grabbed a pipe from the ground and brought it down on Sever’s shoulder.

The only apparent damage being a small grunt, Sever turned around and reached for the pipe. Just before his hand grabbed it, Damien noticed a knowing smirk on her face. Which proved appropriate when the pipe was immolated with a sickly, green flame. Screaming in pain, Sever dropped to his knees clutching his burned hand.

“Come on, let’s go!” Damien shouted as he motioned the girl to the mouth of the alley.

Running around the screaming Sever, she hopped over the dead members of Milita’s enforcers. Upon reaching the mouth of the alley, she looked to Damien and said, “Get on.”

Before Damien could ask, her body became covered in metal, while green flames emanated from within. Falling forward, tires formed between her hands and her feet. In less than two seconds, she had turned into a hellish motorcycle.

That’s got to save on gas, Damien thought to himself as he threw a leg over the seat and gripped the handlebars.

As soon as he was secure, the girl-turned-bike roared and took off. Unprepared, he tightened his grip on the handlebars and the main body with his legs. Leaning down, the engine revved and picked up speed. Closing his eyes, Damien tried to keep his dinner down whenever she took a hard turn.

After far too long, the ride finally ended. Happily getting off, Damien pulled the ski mask off and leaned on his knees as he took deep breaths to try to calm his stomach.

“What’s the matter? Can’t handle a joyride?” the voice of the girl asked from behind him in a teasing manner.

“I have never ridden so much as a dirt bike and had no control over any part of that. Excuse me if that makes me uneasy,” Damien snapped back before he stood up.

“Fair enough. Thanks for getting that collar off me; without it, I could have handled the entire group but without my powers? A girl can’t outfight seven men let alone fourteen. Name’s Hellion, call me Tanya,” she said in the span of a single breath before holding out her hand.

“Strix, call me Damien. Mind if I ask how Militia’s men caught you?”

“Maybe I’ll tell you later, do you know who those other guys were?”

“Yeah, the guy in biker leathers was Sever. He’s an enforcer and ‘retrieval guy’ for New Dawn, I assume you’ve heard of them.”

Hearing the name of the group caused Tanya’s face to pale. Everyone had heard of New Dawn. They were a splinter group that broke off of one of the crazy cults over the decades, no one is quite sure which, that believes that supers are the heralds of Armageddon and the new world will be reborn in the ashes of the old.

What made them more dangerous than your average crazies was that they were involved in human trafficking, specifically of supers. The supers that they captured would be brainwashed into serving the group, the men either as enforcers and soldiers like Sever and the women as breeding stock.

“W-well, thanks again for getting me out of there.”