Lag 6.18 (Draft Preview) (Patreon)

Lag 6.18

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May 15, 2011

9:50 AM

Docks - North

Sparky kicked off from the ground, his skateboard connecting with the worn asphalt of the docks' back streets. The docks were still and quiet as they usually were, the empty silence of the dead shipping area comforting in their own way. The solitude gave him the space he needed to really think.

He had left his house half an hour earlier, the sun barely making its way into the morning sky, and now found himself carving a path through the empty streets at a blinding pace. The cool breeze kissed his face as he weaved in and out of alleyways, the world blurring at the edges of his vision. Once again, he pushed off the rough pavement, the whisper of his skateboard wheels a faint, comforting murmur under the chilly morning sky.

He was fast, faster than he had ever been. It was like he was one with the board, his feet barely touching the surface before they were off again, sending him darting forward. His balance was impeccable, his reflexes lightning-fast, his agility unprecedented.

Sparky glanced at his surroundings, a sea of gray buildings and deserted lots, their stark silhouettes standing against the early morning sky. He was pretty much alone, the only sign of life in this forgotten part of town. Yet, there was an odd tranquility in the emptiness, a quiet sense of peace that washed over him as he sped through the streets.

His face was impassive, his eyes focused on the path ahead, but inside, his thoughts were a whirlwind. Why isn't this fun anymore? He wondered, the realization creeping up on him as he performed a trick, his skateboard twisting in the air beneath him, the motion so smooth it seemed almost effortless.

Is it too slow? Is it too easy? His mind raced even as his body followed the familiar rhythm of the board, the feel of the rough texture beneath his feet, the wind rushing past him. Yet, something was missing. The thrill, the excitement, the adrenaline rush he used to feel when he pushed his limits on the board was nowhere to be found. Now, it just seemed too casual, like he was going through the motions without truly experiencing it.

Still caught up in his own thoughts, Sparky approached a narrow alleyway. Without thinking, he angled his skateboard toward a haphazardly discarded crate, gaining more and more speed as he neared. Then, with an effortless push, he launched himself into the air, board spinning underneath him as he executed a high-speed 720 flip. The world was a blur as he rotated, the wind whipping against his face, the skateboard spinning synchronously beneath him. With a fluidity that belied the complexity of the move, he landed back on the board, its wheels touching the ground with a satisfying clatter. Without even raising his eyebrows, he continued his high-speed skate, his thoughts still consumed by the uncanny ease of it all.

Am I just bored? He mused, furrowing his brows as he grappled with the perplexing feelings. Skating had always been his escape, his solace. It was the one thing that truly made him feel alive, feel free. But now, it felt like just another activity, still fun, but not quite as thrilling as it used to be.

As he zipped past the docks, the murmur of the waves crashing against the shore reached his ears, a rhythmic lullaby that blended seamlessly with the hum of his wheels on the pavement. He allowed the sound to wash over him, his mind quieting for a brief moment.

His focus drifted back to the board beneath his feet, the cityscape speeding past him. It was as if he was observing everything from a distance, detached and indifferent. It hadn’t even crossed his mind for a single moment that the trick he had executed moments ago was perilous, even deadly for an ordinary skateboarder, something he’d only ever thought about trying.

But I'm not ordinary, am I? The thought crossed his mind, like it had several dozen times in the last twenty-four hours.

The memory of last night’s coming out to his parents intruded upon Sparky's thoughts as he took a sudden, sharp turn without slowing down. His father, a picture of stoic calm, his face an unreadable mask. His mother, a whirlwind of worry and panic, barely contained. He had laid it out as simply as possible, his parents already shocked by his change in appearance: he was empowered, he had been kidnapped by Empire 88, but he had triggered when they kidnapped him, escaped before they could hurt him and he was okay now.

“See, not a mark on me,” he had said with a smile. “Literally.”

They were caught off guard, understandably. Sparky had expected a slew of questions, probing and prodding, but it was as if they were both stunned into silence. His dad had eventually regained his composure, his characteristic cheery calmness returning.

"Sparky," he had started, his voice steady but carrying a hint of concern, "We're glad you're okay."

His mom, though, was less convinced.

“My baby!”

The fear in her eyes had not subsided even as he had reassured her he hadn't actually been hurt. It was a comforting lie, and it was enough to calm her down, if only a little. Her features softened, her worry slightly eased, but Sparky knew better than to think she was completely at peace with the situation.

His dad seemed to pick up on this too. Despite his usual calm demeanor, there was a glint of suspicion in his eyes. He didn't question Sparky's story, but there was a clear understanding between them: he wasn't buying what his son was selling.

That was when Sparky decided to leave out Greg's involvement for now. His friend tearing through the Empire was a tale for another day, something that was sure to make it to the news soon enough. Besides, he didn't want to put his parents through more worry. They were just glad he was okay, and that was enough.

The following morning, he left his house, ignoring the lingering tension and the concerned glances from his parents. It was uncomfortable, this newfound fear they held for him, but he understood it. His world had shifted drastically overnight, and theirs had too.

Yet, even with their worry, he could see a glimmer of acceptance in their eyes. His demonstration of picking up their couch over his head, an incredible display of strength, did wonders to ease their fears. They knew he was capable, that he could handle whatever came his way. That thought brought them some comfort, and for now, it was enough.

As Sparky coasted down the deserted streets of the docks, the world passing by in a blur, he couldn't help but replay the scene with his parents over and over. He had told them about his powers, about his ordeal, but had left out the details about Greg's involvement. It was a decision that he wrestled with as he tore through the city streets, his mind a whirl of thoughts and uncertainties. Am I gonna have to keep lying forever?