"Yes!" I jumped with a cheer.
"He's so awesome!" Jon copied me while pointing at the TV.
A highlight reel of Mighty Man's greatest hits was scrolling by on the screen. He had a basic powerset of strength and durability, but he was a very public super. He even had a costume. The simple skintight design made it easy to flaunt his muscles with a sleek black base and silver trim. No sleeves covered his arms, revealing a muscular frame.
"I think it's about time you headed home, Morgan." Smiling at our antics, Jon's dad came into the room.
"There's only ten minutes left!" I threw him my best pleading face. Jon must have used the same method on him before because he seemed immune.
"It's gonna get dark soon. Besides, I know you two have seen this before." He walked in and shut off the TV while ignoring our begging.
"Get going. I promise this will still be here tomorrow." He ushered me toward the door.
Jon's mom had the car, so there was no chance of getting a ride later. I gave up trying to stay longer and graciously accepted my fate.
"I'll see you at school!" I waved to Jon before dashing out with my backpack slung over my shoulder.
As I stepped onto the quiet street, I shivered from a gust of chilly wind. Glancing around, an uneasy feeling prickled at the back of my neck. Ignoring the nagging sense of unease, I tightened the straps of my backpack and quickened my pace, eager to reach home.
I loved Mighty Man for more than just his awesome powers and cool costume. I had actually met him. After losing his hometown in one of the first mist incidents, he moved here and helped stomp out major crime in the city. It felt like smiles were more common and came easier than ever before. I could guarantee that no one was a bigger fan of him than me.
I was so lost in my thoughts that it took me a while to notice how empty the streets were. Sounds of traffic continued in the distance as a random dog barked from down the street. A couple of pigeons cooed as they flew over me. It was a little foggy out, but that wasn't too unusual. The persistent chill still bothered me, so I tugged on my short sleeves to cover up.
A sigh of relief slipped out when I finally caught sight of another person. A tall, slender figure emerged from a neighboring house. Despite his strange attire, seeing the man helped calm my nerves. He had meticulously greased back jet-black hair, framing a face that bore an unsettling smile, sending shivers down my spine as I met his gaze. A leather jacket adorned with studs and patches hung loosely on his frame.
Something about the man kept me from looking away. He waved, and I was about to return the gesture when I noticed the fog gently swaying around him. It almost reminded me of the mist.
"No," I whispered to myself.
Realizing the fog had thickened over the last few minutes, I trembled in fear. Seeing the man again was proof enough. He was still waving with that unnerving smile.
Turning away, I ran for home. The streets remained empty as the distant noises began to change. First, the dog went silent, then the pigeons. The screech of bending metal reached my ears as the traffic sounds became more frantic.
The arrival of the mist was the single most devastating event in human history. A lack of visibility resulted in numerous accidents, while the mistlings destroyed entire cities. They may look human, but those monsters have killed more people than any war or disease.
By the time I reached my home, the mist was so thick I couldn't see the neighboring houses. My body froze before taking the first step onto the porch. The front door was wide open.
"Mom!" I called out.
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With no response, I didn't know what to do. It took all my courage just to yell.
I stood frozen on the porch, staring at the wide-open door. The house, usually warm and welcoming, now seemed ominous and threatening. Taking a deep breath, I stepped inside, calling out again, “Mom?”
The silence was deafening. The living room was in disarray—furniture overturned, family photos shattered on the floor. Every step through the chaos resounded like a shotgun blast to my ears, my heart pounding in my chest. As I approached the kitchen, I noticed a smear of blood on the doorframe.
“Mom?” I whispered, my voice trembling.
There she was, lying on the kitchen floor. Her eyes were closed, and her body was unnaturally still. A deep gash ran across her forehead, and the blood had pooled around her. I dropped to my knees beside her, tears streaming down my face as I reached out for her.
“No, no, no,” I sobbed, gently shaking her shoulder as if it would wake her. “Mom, please…”
But she didn’t move. She would never move again. The horror of the situation crashed over me like a tidal wave, and I cried out in anguish, clutching her lifeless body. The blood dirtied my clothes, and I could almost hear her telling me to throw it into the washing machine before it stained.
A sudden noise from the hallway snapped me out of my grief. I looked up, my heart racing. The sound of slow, deliberate footsteps echoed through the house. I scrambled to my feet, backing away from the kitchen.
Then I saw it. A man like any other. He had a plain face with medium-length brown hair, average height, and the same unnerving smile. The swim trunks clashed with his button-up shirt and combat boots. It wasn’t a man. It was a mistling.
The mist around him was more active. It swirled in spirals around his arms and legs much more visible than the last one. I felt a chill run down my spine as it took a step towards me.
“No,” I whispered, trying to back away further. But my legs felt like lead.
The mistling lunged at me, its movements swift and predatory. I raised my arms in a feeble attempt to defend myself, but it was no use. Its strength was overwhelming, and I was thrown against the wall, the impact knocking the breath out of me. Tears slipped from my eyes due to the pain radiating across my body. I wanted to curl up and cry, but there was no time for that.
Just as the mistling was about to strike again, a blur of motion filled the room. My father crashed through the wall, his fist connecting with the mistling’s face in a powerful blow that sent it flying. A bookshelf was destroyed, and the wall behind it cracked from the monster's impact.
“Dad!” I gasped, relief flooding through me.
“Morgan, stay back!” he commanded, his eyes never leaving the mistling as it recovered and stood up again.
The mist in the rest of the room slowly started to vibrate almost as if in excitement. The mistling sprung forward, but a mighty kick had it crashing through the window and out into the street. For a brief moment, silence had returned to the house.
“Are you okay?” he asked, turning to me, his expression filled with concern.
"M-Mom...she's..." I tried to get the words out.
"I know." He pulled me into a hug without another word.
“We need to get out of here,” he said urgently. “It'll be back, and more will be coming.”
My arms refused to let go, so he picked me up like he used to. A single kick off the floor had us through the hole in the wall in seconds.
"We're going to be alright, Morgan. Nothing can hurt you now." He spoke confidently.
I believed him. Mighty Man would never lose a fight. He was the strongest.
We ran towards the outskirts of the city, hoping to escape the area of the mist. But the mistlings were relentless, their numbers growing with each passing moment. It felt like the mist itself wanted my father to fight them, to test their strength.
The mistling from our house soon caught up to us. It moved faster than the others, with more spirals of mist around its body than before.
"Dad, h-he's back." Being carried allowed me to catch sight of him first. There was no sign of it having taken any damage.
As we reached the edge of the city, a crowd of mistlings blocked our path forward. We slowed down enough that the swim trunks' mistling managed to catch up. Dad only needed his left hand to crush the monster's head with a punch.
"Fuck!" He cursed.
I had never heard my father swear before. Looking at the creature, I realized why. The mistling seemed unfazed by his missing head, its body regenerating almost instantly.
"He's a speed evolver." Switching me to his left side, my father looked around for an escape.
The group ahead of us was slightly smaller than the one behind, but the numbers were still uncomfortably high.
Suddenly, the roar of helicopter blades filled the air. A spotlight cut through the mist, illuminating the scene. Soldiers descended from the helicopter, weapons blazing. They engaged the mistlings, driving them back only a couple of steps with a barrage of gunfire.
"Sir! We're here to pick you up!" A soldier approached my father while the rest tried to hold the line.
"Take my son up first!" He passed me over to the man.
"I’ve got you, kid. You’re safe now.” He said while tugging on his harness.
We were pulled up to the helicopter, and he secured me to a seat. I looked down as the gunfire became more chaotic.
On the ground, one of the soldiers was kneeling while clutching his bleeding stomach. Another had fallen over after his head was separated from his body. I couldn't understand how things had changed so fast until I saw that same mistling again.
The monster had changed. Blades sprouted from its fingers and muscles bulged in its legs. It moved with terrifying speed, its claws slashing through the air to bisect another soldier.
My father looked up at the helicopter.
“Go!" he screamed. "Morgan! I love you!” his voice breaking as the mistling slammed into him. This time it was able to take his attacks.
"Shit!" The man next to me looked down at the fight as the last soldier was splattered by a punch from another mistling. "Two speed evolvers! This mission is over! Go! Go! GO!"
"No! Dad!" I reached out for him, but a harness secured me in place.
The helicopter pulled away as I struggled to undo the buckles. My fingers didn't want to cooperate, and in less than a minute, it was too late.
As we emerged from that hell into the open air, I looked down at the city shrouded in a misty dome. The sight of my father’s last stand burned into my memory.
A click echoed in my mind as a door I never knew existed opened inside me. I had powers. Just like my father. The crazies called them gifts from the mist since only survivors ever got them.
I clenched my fists, a new resolve filling me. And with that, I knew my life had changed forever.