“Trauma, you should put down the phone and listen already,” said the Kaleidoscope Man, holding his head in his left hand and a glass of wine in his left. “I’m your senior, show a little respect.”
Trauma smiled, placing the small device on the table as she looked at him.
“Apologies,” she shrugged. “I was talking to a new friend in Europe.”
“Why not? Can’t I have friends? Will you lock me away in a cage on June the sev-”
“Enough,” interrupted Richter, his fist cracking the table as it rests. “Kaleidoscope man, stop provoking the newbie. Trauma, learn your place.”
Trauma sighed, dangling her legs under the chair and patting down the skirt of her dress. She chose her new outfit carefully. Nobody can resist a young girl. Mothers and fathers want to protect, children want to be friends and Handyman, the fourth member of this round table of evil…
Some things are left better unsaid. Handyman wouldn’t stop staring anyway, so leaving it unsaid is merely leaving the elephant in the room.
“Now,” Richter finally said. “I’m sure you all understand the goal of this meeting?”
“Plan methods to bring chaos to the NHN and promote your group over it?” suggested Handyman, raising a hand.
“Correct,” replied Richter, almost moving a little. “But that’s our long term goals.”
“So there’s a complication, right?” asked Kaleidoscope man, picking his left nostril with his top hand.
Trauma coughed and stood. “The NHN has a trump card, and one I’d like to get my hands on,” she said, standing straight. “A nullifier, and one that can create permanent fields.”
The fifth member of the group, Cosmos, spoke through his visor. “What, that kid you knew, Blocker?”
“Yes, my irradiated Russian! That guy. We need him.”
Handyman scoffed at the notion. “Why? Why do we need him?”
“Because he is a promised gift from my benefactor, Handyman. I can assure you, good things will come to pass.”
Richter smirked, his crimson cape floating behind his armour, his face unprotected as a beard of brown sprouts forth valiantly, and his head of hair flows long.
“I must gave thanks to Taker, who did this to me,” said Richter, taking the attention of his fellow members. “Without this power I would be nothing, but now I can have everything.”
The table shattered as he stood, marble splintering as if an impressive weight broke it. However, the cause for such an impressive display of destruction was not a weight of incredible mass, but the tap of Richter’s fingers as they drummed against it.
Trauma rolled her eyes at her new comrades as the meeting adjourned.
“Olympian, any words on your fight with Chasser?”
Olympian was wading through a crowd of reporters, each for different news papers. French, English, Dutch, Italian and Portuguese voices called out, overriding each other.
Olympian sighed as she disappeared into the sky with a whoosh, shocking the reporters and press. She hovered, her golden hair draping across her silver cape in calm air, her magnificence seen only to those who look up. She wore a White skintight suit, with an O in clear red covering the front of her body. Her gloves and boots were coloured the exact same as the O.
Her phone beeped, and she took a look inside. As much as being as powerful was easy, it was hard. Every day, every conversation, every second was emotionally taxing. No true friends to rely on as you were the backbone for so many, no chance to rest or break down. These are normal problems for capes as famous as Olympian, but Olympian has been at it for centuries. Her current name? A homage to her former friends, whom she once talked and argued with many moons ago. Friends and allies she watched wither to bones and dust as she lived on.
Her only true friend is a girl she contacted online about a year ago, somebody who seemed so sweet and nice to talk to. She was actually happy she had a friend as nice as Ellie Grey. She was caring, she listened, and they helped each other with their own personal problems. Ellie was an absolute stranger but had that sort of naivety and joy that made you trust her like family.
Ellie Grey was a great friend, and was a light in the darkness of eternity. Sadly, ‘was’ is the word to emphasise here as Ellie hadn’t called in weeks, and this was the first text since she left.
The message stood out in Olympian’s mind as she read it, and the history:
“Ill b going now! Im taking a drive 2 the campsite so Ill b out of range because of my phone. Will call l8r I promise
“I can’t wait! Lets talk about our weekend soon. 😀 p.s. I was wondering if I could visit soon, that would be great.”
“rlly? Can’t wait.”
Then the next message.
“ellies mom here. police told me she crashed her car txting a message. saw the history and figured it was you. sorry but i dont think shell be able to see you again shes in intensive care and may not make it. had to tell you but they sed she may not live. accidents happen im sorry. i dont want to outlive my own daughter.”
For the strangest reason, the odd timing of the message never disturbed Olympian. The contents however, the contents stood out.
“Outlive… It was me…”
Somehow, the words clicked. They found a way into her vast memories of the olden days and dragged deep, personal scenes and thoughts into the front of her mind.
All that came to her was ‘I killed her’ followed by ‘it was me’.
Olympian dropped the phone, letting it plummet and smash off a parked car below.
“Why can’t I have someone stay beside me?”
Olympian cried out for the first time in six hundred years, and found a new purpose in life. Meanwhile, Trauma smiled as she left the meeting hall, holding a small cellphone. She opened it and tossed the SIM card away, the purpose it was taken for served.