Killian Byrne
Mar 6th, 2011, 03:07:47 PM
The explosion rocked the very street, causing drivers to lose control of their cars, driving off the road or crashing into each other. The highschool was missing most of the top half of the building, and was on fire now. People ran screaming from the building. Some were bleeding. Most were screaming. He pulled himself up from the ground, dusting his hands off on his pre-faded denim jeans as he watched the carnage enfold before him, unsure of what to do. Then he heard the call. Standing in front of the demolished building a woman screamed for help, but not just any help. She called out for a hero. There was no going back now. Sprinting toward the school Killian ripped his shirt in two as he picked up speed. A cloak flapped in the wind behind him now, a mask hiding his face, and spandex keeping everything else in place. They called him by name now. The Wee Avenger was coming to save them all! Mighty steps carried him to the school in seconds, where he scooped up the screaming woman and carried her away just as part of the school collapsed where she had just stood. Dropping her off he charged into the school to find the culprit, and there he found it. Him, rather.
"Doctor Death, I have you now!" He called as he charged the lab coat wearing hooligan, who turned to face him "No! Not you Wee Avenger!" He pulled out a a stranger gun-like device and started firing lasers. The Wee Avenger did not care. He let each one hit him in the chest, using his super power to absorb the energy into himself, making him stronger. His body grew larger until he towered above the evil doctor, whom he quickly dispatched with a slap of his hand. Finally he stood above his arch-nemesis, who was cowering before him. "You lose again, Doctor Death!" He said, his voice so loud it filled the room. Now people were coming back, hailing him with praise. They would have lifted him up on their shoulders if not for the incredible size he had grown to. Girls were swooning, men were cheering, and his parents stood nearby. They never looked more proud. What's more th- BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP!
"Whazt..." He mumbled, rolling over in bed and grabbing for the alarm while the dream faded away. Finally silenced, Killian laid back into his bed, looking up at the ceiling. He laid there for awhile, musing over the dream he had. After a while he grinned and let out a little laugh. "Yeah. Wee Avenger. God that's a flooped up name." Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed he looked across the little room to the mirror on the wall. What he saw was not a mighty superhero in flowing cloak and mighty mask, but rather a very disheveled midget with messy hair. Getting to his feet he began to move around his room. Every step was carefully placed. The room itself had no clutter. It was very organized. Nothing to trip on, nothing to smack his elbow on, and nothing to otherwise increase the chance of harming himself upon it. Moving out into the hall he made a beeline for the bathroom for a quick shower, complete with anti-flip strips on the floor of the tub. Toweled and dry, he got dressed quickly. Faded jeans, converse sneakers, gray shirt, and black hoodie. He stopped briefly in front of his bedroom mirror to put in his contacts, trying to ignore the blue discoloration around his iris. Now he just had to pick up his effects, camera, and his 5' 4" frame was out the door. He only paused to say good day to his "aunt".
She wasn't his aunt. An old family friend, for sure, but not his aunt by blood. He lived with her here in LA, his own family living back in San Jose and happy to be done with him. Being born with Osteogenesis Imperfecta had not been easy on his parents and they were happy when he finally moved out of the house and into the spare room of his mother's old friend Wendy. The room and board was cheap, low enough for his disability check to cover. Wendy would have let him live there for free but he insisted on paying for the space. She was just lonely and wanted the company. Not today, though. He wanted to go out and get some pictures. Having a legally disability meant he had time to spare, and rather than sit at home and feel sorry for himself he had decided years ago to get into photography as an easy, non-physical hobby that he could also make money off of. He had not done much. A few senior pictures for highschool graduates here and a small local wedding there. Today he wanted to get some stock photos of the area. Not necessarily to sell, but it never hurt to have nice pictures. LA was not the most beautiful city, but there was secret beauty to be found in this concrete jungle.
But first he had to get lost, so he just started wandering. He wandered a lot when looking for pictures, and he knew the area pretty good now, but chances were he could still find some hidden gem. A new angle, a new street performer, anything. That was the fun of it. He did not walk fast. Instead he moved slowly and precise, careful to watch his footing. Killian was a mutant, or whatever they were called. He had powers that were otherwise superhuman. While his mutation allowed him added survivability despite his bone disorder, he still did not go trampling around. A childhood filled with broken bones because of carelessness had trained him to always be careful. His mutation was a gift that added new mobility to his life, but he would never abuse it or let on that he was a mutant. He looked like a normal, frail kid. No sense in getting himself killed what with all the anti-mutant hate going around these days.
As he walked he occasionally stopped, checked to make sure nothing was going to accidentally run into him if he looked away, and then took a picture or three. Move on a few blocks. Repeat. He continued on this way as he moved down the street. It was early and not a lot of people were on the sidewalk yet. It would get busier toward the afternoon when it warmed up. For now, he was just enjoying being relatively human.
The feeling did not last long. As he stopped to take another picture, his cautionary glance about caught side of a child cross the street by herself, and a car coming around the corner going a bit fast. The child was not more than eight years old, and the driver of the car clearly had not seen her at first. Brakes squealed and wheels locked. The car was sliding. The girl was so close. Killian ran, throwing caution to the wind as he ran out into the street, snatching the girl up under his arm and putting his body between her and the car. The car was still sliding. It had lost most of its speed but would not stop in time. Killian put out his hand and let the hood of the car slide into him. His feet slid back a few feet with the car, an impact that would have shattered the glass man. However, his mutation was working overtime as it reacted to the adrenaline burst. The kinetic energy of the car impact was absorbed into his arm, pooled into his core, and then redirected back into his arm as a resisting power that helped slow the car. It hurt though. A lot. He could feel his bones screaming in agony as they wanted to break but his mutation had protected him from that.
Setting the girl down he straightened his body while the driver jumped out with the expecting OMG Are You Okay? shtick. 'Oh, no. I'm okay. She's okay. We're all okay." He said, dismissing it all as trivial as he walked back toward the sidewalk, trying hard not to look at the hand shaped dent in the man's hood. Stretching his arm he moved back down the sidewalk, ignoring the driver and trying to get out of the scene as quickly as possible without looking rushed. He did not want to give away what he was. He was not ashamed of it, but he also did not want his life to get anymore complicated then it already was. Better to be the hero and fade away into the darkness. He would smile about it later, when he was home, and feel like the king of the world. He liked it. No. Loved it! The feeling of saving someone.
Being a hero.
"Doctor Death, I have you now!" He called as he charged the lab coat wearing hooligan, who turned to face him "No! Not you Wee Avenger!" He pulled out a a stranger gun-like device and started firing lasers. The Wee Avenger did not care. He let each one hit him in the chest, using his super power to absorb the energy into himself, making him stronger. His body grew larger until he towered above the evil doctor, whom he quickly dispatched with a slap of his hand. Finally he stood above his arch-nemesis, who was cowering before him. "You lose again, Doctor Death!" He said, his voice so loud it filled the room. Now people were coming back, hailing him with praise. They would have lifted him up on their shoulders if not for the incredible size he had grown to. Girls were swooning, men were cheering, and his parents stood nearby. They never looked more proud. What's more th- BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP!
"Whazt..." He mumbled, rolling over in bed and grabbing for the alarm while the dream faded away. Finally silenced, Killian laid back into his bed, looking up at the ceiling. He laid there for awhile, musing over the dream he had. After a while he grinned and let out a little laugh. "Yeah. Wee Avenger. God that's a flooped up name." Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed he looked across the little room to the mirror on the wall. What he saw was not a mighty superhero in flowing cloak and mighty mask, but rather a very disheveled midget with messy hair. Getting to his feet he began to move around his room. Every step was carefully placed. The room itself had no clutter. It was very organized. Nothing to trip on, nothing to smack his elbow on, and nothing to otherwise increase the chance of harming himself upon it. Moving out into the hall he made a beeline for the bathroom for a quick shower, complete with anti-flip strips on the floor of the tub. Toweled and dry, he got dressed quickly. Faded jeans, converse sneakers, gray shirt, and black hoodie. He stopped briefly in front of his bedroom mirror to put in his contacts, trying to ignore the blue discoloration around his iris. Now he just had to pick up his effects, camera, and his 5' 4" frame was out the door. He only paused to say good day to his "aunt".
She wasn't his aunt. An old family friend, for sure, but not his aunt by blood. He lived with her here in LA, his own family living back in San Jose and happy to be done with him. Being born with Osteogenesis Imperfecta had not been easy on his parents and they were happy when he finally moved out of the house and into the spare room of his mother's old friend Wendy. The room and board was cheap, low enough for his disability check to cover. Wendy would have let him live there for free but he insisted on paying for the space. She was just lonely and wanted the company. Not today, though. He wanted to go out and get some pictures. Having a legally disability meant he had time to spare, and rather than sit at home and feel sorry for himself he had decided years ago to get into photography as an easy, non-physical hobby that he could also make money off of. He had not done much. A few senior pictures for highschool graduates here and a small local wedding there. Today he wanted to get some stock photos of the area. Not necessarily to sell, but it never hurt to have nice pictures. LA was not the most beautiful city, but there was secret beauty to be found in this concrete jungle.
But first he had to get lost, so he just started wandering. He wandered a lot when looking for pictures, and he knew the area pretty good now, but chances were he could still find some hidden gem. A new angle, a new street performer, anything. That was the fun of it. He did not walk fast. Instead he moved slowly and precise, careful to watch his footing. Killian was a mutant, or whatever they were called. He had powers that were otherwise superhuman. While his mutation allowed him added survivability despite his bone disorder, he still did not go trampling around. A childhood filled with broken bones because of carelessness had trained him to always be careful. His mutation was a gift that added new mobility to his life, but he would never abuse it or let on that he was a mutant. He looked like a normal, frail kid. No sense in getting himself killed what with all the anti-mutant hate going around these days.
As he walked he occasionally stopped, checked to make sure nothing was going to accidentally run into him if he looked away, and then took a picture or three. Move on a few blocks. Repeat. He continued on this way as he moved down the street. It was early and not a lot of people were on the sidewalk yet. It would get busier toward the afternoon when it warmed up. For now, he was just enjoying being relatively human.
The feeling did not last long. As he stopped to take another picture, his cautionary glance about caught side of a child cross the street by herself, and a car coming around the corner going a bit fast. The child was not more than eight years old, and the driver of the car clearly had not seen her at first. Brakes squealed and wheels locked. The car was sliding. The girl was so close. Killian ran, throwing caution to the wind as he ran out into the street, snatching the girl up under his arm and putting his body between her and the car. The car was still sliding. It had lost most of its speed but would not stop in time. Killian put out his hand and let the hood of the car slide into him. His feet slid back a few feet with the car, an impact that would have shattered the glass man. However, his mutation was working overtime as it reacted to the adrenaline burst. The kinetic energy of the car impact was absorbed into his arm, pooled into his core, and then redirected back into his arm as a resisting power that helped slow the car. It hurt though. A lot. He could feel his bones screaming in agony as they wanted to break but his mutation had protected him from that.
Setting the girl down he straightened his body while the driver jumped out with the expecting OMG Are You Okay? shtick. 'Oh, no. I'm okay. She's okay. We're all okay." He said, dismissing it all as trivial as he walked back toward the sidewalk, trying hard not to look at the hand shaped dent in the man's hood. Stretching his arm he moved back down the sidewalk, ignoring the driver and trying to get out of the scene as quickly as possible without looking rushed. He did not want to give away what he was. He was not ashamed of it, but he also did not want his life to get anymore complicated then it already was. Better to be the hero and fade away into the darkness. He would smile about it later, when he was home, and feel like the king of the world. He liked it. No. Loved it! The feeling of saving someone.
Being a hero.