Jason Horton loved comic books. As a kid, he read them with religious fervor. “Why can’t I have super powers like that,” he would often sigh to himself. To the slight annoyance of his parents, he would frequently zip around the house with varying sheets and linens draping over his back, usually knocking down glassware and other breakables.
Jason’s dad would look at him and shake his head. “When are you ever going to grow up, son?”
His mother would then admonish, “You leave him be. He’ll grow up too fast as it is!”
“He’s going to live in Fantasy Land his whole life. Is that what you want?”
And so it went, back and forth. Jason never paid attention to either parental
figure though. He was too busy flying
from the coffee table to the foot rest.
At night, in bed, Jason would sigh to himself, per his
routine. “Why can’t I have super
powers?”
Jason never quite grew out of that “phase,” as his mother
called it. Throughout high school, he
was still quite dissatisfied with his non-powered state of existence. So much so, that dwelling on the subject –
which he often did – would put him into an existential funk. His love of comic books and video games were
more of an obsession at that point – not allowing for any interests in other forays
of life. He grew immensely depressed of
his own limitations as an ordinary human being.
On the bright side, this constant withdrawal into himself allowed him to
develop a keen sense of introspection, and even a degree of philosophical intellect. This was what allowed him to question his own
dissatisfaction.
“Why am I always thinking about this? Why do I always feel like I’m supposed to be
something better? Why can’t I just be
happy being a regular human being like everyone else?”
It was this introspection that finally led him out of what
he considered to be a very dark tunnel - or rather, in his mind, a very bright tunnel – much like when you stare
at the sun for too long. Eventually, he
was able to force himself into a state of normalcy. He put away his books and games, developed a
social life of sorts, and even eventually got married.
Now, at age 30, Jason Horton had a wife and three
daughters. While slightly henpecked, he
was mostly satisfied. Or so he
thought. His mind would drift at times
back to his recent childhood, but he would quickly shut it down and remember
his father’s chastising words.
“Right. I’m an adult
now. No more of that.” And then, he would be happy again.
And so it went, as he drove to his cubicle job day in and
day out. Sometimes his mind would falter
while sitting in his eight by ten workspace, but the rapid pace of the
monotonous job snapped him back with each ring of the telephone – five minute
intervals and not a minute less were allowed at [unimportant company name].
“Thank you for calling [unimportant company name], my name
is Jason, how can I help you today,” the run-on question/statement would flow
from his mouth without effort. Each
problem and each complaint different, and yet the same, would be solved with
the script pasted on the cubicle wall which he had long ago memorized verbatim.
Today, for the first time in four years, the caller threw
him off.
“Hello, Jason Horton.
I’m here to help you today.”
“Um…I beg your pardon?
I don’t mean to be rude, but how did you get my last name, Ms…?”
“You don’t remember me, but you have always called me
Lunetha on this plane.”
“I…see.” Jason was
slightly amused. This wasn’t the first
crank call he had received in his days at [unimportant business name], and they
were always a pleasurable break from the monotony of his job. The amount of pleasure he received from such
breaks disturbed him slightly in fact, whenever his keenly honed introspective
nature had a chance to analyze it.
Today however, there was something else that buzzed inside
of him besides the joy of breaking up his routine.
Not prepared to let his mind even begin to walk that path, he stuck to
his script. Not the one in front of him,
but rather the one he used to get through his whole life up to this point. Growing up, that’s all he thought anyone was
ever really doing – following a script.
Or maybe it was just him.
Whatever. This wasn’t the time
for those types of thoughts. Get a grip Jason.
“I’m sorry ma’am, but I’m not familiar with that name. Did someone refer you to me? May I ask who it was that gave you my extension?”
“Jason, it’s time.
You’ve been away long enough. I
know more than anyone that you’ve needed your rest, but it’s time to get back
to work. We need you.”
This was such an odd conversation for the young man, and for
the first time in his life, he didn’t quite know how he was supposed to
respond. Usually, like the paper in
front of him, he had everything planned out long before any discourse was
initiated by anyone he encountered. It
was this “social analyzing” which finally made it possible for him to make a
few friends, and even a fiancée back then.
“I-…I’m sorry. I
really don’t understand. Is there
something I can help you with? Or…wait,
who did you say this is again?”
“Jason Horton.” The
strong, female voice stated on the other line.
“I apologize, but we do not have time for this. The restoration of your memories will have to
wait until later.”
And with that, Jason felt yet another buzzing in the back of
his brain. A sense of disconnection with
reality sent him reeling into a sudden anxiety, and for a brief moment he
thought the laws of nature might abruptly cease to work. Down would become up, and he would be sucked
into the sky, never to be seen again. None
of his senses could be trusted, and nothing was as it seemed. This illogical panic made him dizzy, and he
reached for a drink of water from his Styrofoam cup which he fully expected to
transform into a reticulated giraffe for no apparent reason.
What the hell was wrong with him? And what the hell was wrong with this
woman? Right. Crazy person is making you crazy. You don’t think
like this anymore. You’re an adult. Time to hang up now.
And before he could hit the disconnect button, the laws of
nature did in fact change. He was no
longer sitting at his cubicle. He no
longer had a plastic earpiece that was missing its foam covering and digging
into his canal. He felt as though he was
floating.
No, literally. He was floating. And there was nothing around him at all, save
for a strong looking woman dressed in a colorful garb.
“Hello old friend,” she said with a kind fondness in her
voice. “It truly is good to see you
again.”
“Wha-…who-…WHAT?!”
“Shhh…Jason…Jason, calm down. It’s alright.
Here.” And with that, she pointed
at his head. Strange writings flew
through the air, and “entered” his baffled brain.
“There. It’s not all
of it, but it’s enough to keep you from going off the deep end. Now do you remember a little?”
“Wait, you mean….I really am….?”
“Yes Jason, you really are a hero. A Guardian
rather. That is what we’re called. Is it starting to come back to you now?”
“No…I mean….not exactly.
But…I remember…when I was a kid…I would read, and play, and….”
“And that always seemed more real than your real life?”
“Yes!”
“That’s because it was, Jason. You were sent there into that form so that
you may rest. The last battle you waged
took almost everything from you. It was
a miracle you survived. But then, you’ve
always been that good.”
“I…I what? I still
don’t understand.”
“Listen, we don’t have much time. Everything that happened before isn’t
important. I can give you the rest of
your memories back later. Right now,
Gamma Plane needs its Guardian back. And
that’s you. There’s no time to waste.”
“Gamma….? Is that
like another world or something? Like in
Purple Avenger #17 when Doctor
Hughs-“
“Yes Jason, very much like that. It is good that you remember your
comics. After all, we originally placed
them there to train future Guardians and guide their moral center at a young
age.”
“So…wait…when I read comics as a kid, it was…training?”
“Well, re-training
is more appropriate in your case. The
others let you live out a normal life again so that you could recuperate from
your battle with the Dark One. Which
brings us to why I was sent to retrieve you.”
Floating in this null space, Jason blinked in confusion at
his colorfully dressed benefactor. It
was only then that he realized he was wearing a similar garb.
He should have been completely overwhelmed by all of this,
but something about it all just seemed to ring true with him. Why else would he feel so out of sorts his
whole life?
The woman calling herself “Lunetha” briefly explained to him
his role as a Guardian, and that of the Dark One. The Dark One had apparently returned to Gamma
Plane, and only Jason Horton was powerful enough to stop him. He alone was attuned to Gamma, after all.
Along the way, Jason would have to deal with the strife left
in its wake before he could challenge it directly. This typically involved a series of good deeds
- employing enthropy to entropy throughout the plane.
And so, off he went.
He materialized back in his office, to the shock of his
fellow co-workers – no doubt because he was no longer wearing his
company-approved white collar shirt and tie.
Jason’s radiance dumfounded everyone, and he incorporeally flew through
the closed window on the opposite wall and re-materialized on the other side as
his former fellows looked on in a perpetually perplexed state.
He then proceeded to make his rounds. From on high, he spotted a classic mugging,
and flew down to the assailant at blazing speed. He knocked the criminal into next Tuesday,
and the former victim thanked him profusely.
No time to bask in adulation. Off
he flew again.
Next on his unfaltering mental list of entropic events was
the traditional bank robbery gone awry.
Hostages and SWAT were involved.
This certainly would not do, and so Jason teleported himself inside,
made the guns unfathomably disappear from their owners’ hands, and sure – what
the heck – transported the hostages away from evil in the blink of an eye,
while the would-be robbers materialized behind bars in the nearest prison for
good measure – much to the confusion of the current residents of already
occupied cells.
Let’s see, what other heroics needed done this day? Ah yes, a cat in the tree. Zip.
Problem solved. The little boy
looked up and thanked him, as was only polite.
Even the police came to congratulate him.
Surely, after these deeds were complete, it was time to face
the source of chaos in his world.
“I’m afraid there’s nothing more we can do for him at this
point, Mrs. Horton. Your husband suffers
from a deeply psychotic break, brought on by many untreated years of delusional
grandeur.”
“But…I don’t understand Doctor!” she sobbed. “He’s always been so…so normal!”
“Bear in mind these delusions come from a repressed longing
that he has held onto since childhood.
In cases like this, there is very little warning until a number of years
into adulthood…by then of course is too late.
Mrs. Horton….please, listen to me.
This isn’t your fault.”
Jenifer Horton was in tears while her three daughters colored
and played with the sliding maze toys on the floor. “Will he…will he ever come out of it?”
The doctor gently put his hand on her shoulder. “I’m afraid not, Mrs. Horton. And…please understand. Even if he wasn’t too far gone by now…the
things he had done…there’s simply no way he would ever be allowed to go free
after...well….after everything.”
At that, she wailed uncontrollably, while her girls looked
up at her questioningly. She nearly fainted
the first time she heard the unspeakable acts he committed. Indeed, she did not stop vomiting then for
almost forty-five minutes when the news footage broke in during her ritual morning
of talk shows.
In some sort of mad fit, her husband had apparently stripped
naked at work, and then proceeded to jump through a nearby window, leaving blood
and broken glass behind for his bewildered co-workers to later clean. Fortunately, the building was
single-story. Unfortunately, he then
proceeded in this manner to an elderly couple taking a leisurely stroll down 5th
Avenue. The old woman had asked her
husband of fifty years to briefly hold her purse for her as she dug into her
pockets for a hard candy.
The kindly man was then beaten to death by a naked, bleeding
savage.
Next, the deranged lunatic stormed into a savings and loans
building, somehow got ahold of the security guard’s gun, and shot and killed
everyone inside with its high-capacity rounds.
He fled the scene just as the police arrived, and they
chased him through a residential neighborhood where he then inexplicably
climbed a tree. The body of a child was
found with him when they fired a round into his shoulder, knocking him to the
ground.
As much as the public wanted him executed for his astoundingly
heinous crimes, the law required him to be locked away in an asylum instead - which
is where Mrs. Horton was now crying inconsolably in front of her daughters.
“I just…” she sobbed.
“I just still don’t understand.
How?! How could he have done
those things?!”
The doctor sighed.
“Ma’am…I don’t wish to oversimplify this, because the conditioning
behind it is really quite complicated.
There are also possible chemical imbalances to take into
consideration. But…how can I put this…”
“You see,” he continued.
“Sometimes when a person wants to be special their entire life, or is told they’re special, they grow up
dissatisfied with how their adult life has turned out if the end results have
not met their life-long expectations.
Now…this is completely normal in most cases. But some children…become…fixated on this. They develop
a sort of ‘chosen one complex’. In this
type of individual, a mother telling her child every single day of his life
that he’s sure to become president of the United States is completely
detrimental to the healthy upbringing and happiness of this child.
“Jason…wants so badly to be special that his mind has created this fantasy world in which he’s
the hero. Anything that comes into
conflict with that fantasy is met with brutal violence.”
Jennifer sobbed. “He
was always special to me! What about me?! What about our little girls?!”
“Mrs. Horton,” said the doctor softly. “We have counseling centers set up at this
facility for grieving families in situations such as yours. If you will allow me, I would very much like
to arrange for you and your daughters to be…taken care of.”
Jennifer sniffed once.
“Y-yes Doctor. Thank…thank
you. I think I would like that.”
“Of course.
Nurse?” He motioned to the member
of his staff. “Would you kindly take
Mrs. Horton and her girls to…room 6?” He said the name of the room with a strange
emphasis which did not register with Jenifer, but did so with the nurse.
“Yes Doctor. Right
away.” The nurse smiled. Cheerfully.
As she escorted the damaged family to their new room, the
Doctor then smiled to himself. Even chuckled
a bit. And then broke out into full
blown laughter.
He walked down the hallways, whistling…all the way to the
door which incarcerated Jason, and phased through it.
“Ah…Jason…Jason…Jason.
My good friend, Jason. It’s been far too long since I’ve seen you
like this.”
Jason was slumped in a corner of the padded cell, rocking
back and forth, muttering about saving the day or some such. A bit of drool at formed at the edge of his
mouth, and eventually fell to his strapped wrists.
“You know Jason, at first I was afraid. Did you know that? Can you even conceive of such a thing? Me? Afraid?”
He leered over him, and kicked Jason savagely as the
strapped wretch continued to rock and mutter to himself – lost in some kind of
drug induced fantasy world that wasn’t dissimilar from his childhood.
“And now…not only have I beaten you…the Gamma Guardian…but
I’ve taken your lovely family from you as well.
I’ve taken everything from
you. What do you have to say to that?”
Jason continued to mutter to himself as another batch of
drool prepared to leave his slack mouth.
The Dark One kicked him again.
“Personally, I don’t see why you care for them at all. I mean…to you, they were never even real to
begin with, were they? You wouldn’t mind
then if I….had them to myself?”
Jason stopped muttering for a moment, and his head slowly
rose as the Dark One cackled maniacally towards the door exiting the cell.
Its parting words to him were: “I don’t know which one of us
is worse, Jason my boy. Me, for doing
what I’ve done and what I’m about to do…or you,
for not being strong enough to stop me.”
And the cackling then continued down the halls as it left him.
Then, Jason Horton stood.
Copyright 2013
Michael F. Mercurio
