Adam Mason

I woke up in a crowded jail cell with an agonizing headache. It was dark and there was piss and feces all over the floor. They didn’t bother to clean their drunk tanks anymore. Why should they? It would just be a waste of budget. I pushed myself upright against the wall with my feet. I tried to ignore the foul smell as much as I could, even though I was covered in it.

Rubbing my face with my hands, I accidentally pulled on my cuffs and snapped them apart. They couldn’t even be bothered to give me a pair of decent shackles. I rested my head on the concrete wall, waiting for the pain to stop so I could think again.

It was weird though. I expected my entire body to be hurting. I had taken beatings like that before, and I knew how it felt afterwards. But I didn’t feel the jolts of shaking agony with every movement. In fact, all that really hurt was my headache. It felt like I had gone three days without any water.

I moaned as I tried to will the pounding migraine to go away. And in between the head splitting thrums of pain, I remembered bits and pieces of last night.

Why had I been so stupid? Yeah, you should’ve gone to the corner like the Ghost had asked. Being put in timeout for a few minutes didn’t seem nearly as humiliating now. I don’t even know why I antagonized him. Something in me just boiled over. I had tried so hard, and all I got for it was getting my ass handed to me—again.

Now, I was under arrest. My chances of shooting it up were now properly ruined. It would be off to a forced labor camp, or worse, enlistment.

I swear, if they handed me a gun, I was just going to blow my head off. I thought the fast-food joint was rock bottom, but here I was, finding new lows to sink every day. I rubbed my eyes, trying to clear my blurred vision. My mouth was so dry. I needed some water, and I knew I wasn’t going to get it anytime soon.

Looking this way and that, I saw there were two sides of the cell. There was some chatter among the more mentally stable side of the prisoners. These were the criminals and low-lifes who were stupid enough to get caught. They huddled together like a pack of dogs marking out their territory. The other half was relegated to the other side, filled with muttering schizophrenics and blown out junkies.

At this point, I honestly didn’t know which I belonged to.

More flashes of last night came to me in piecemeal. Fucker had injected something in my neck. I lifted my hand to find the wound, but I couldn’t find anywhere that hurt more than the rest. What had he been talking about? Something about… I groaned again as the migraine worsened. I couldn’t recall any of it.

All I knew was that whatever he did was hurting me bad, and I wanted it to stop. I was scared that he might’ve given me one of those newfangled OB drugs. ArmsTek apparently makes them. One shot chemically alters your body for life. Turns you into a permanent addict.

They were talking about using it to minimize the risk of abnormals, but it wasn’t hard to read between the lines. The Democratic Union was always looking for new ways of enforcing compliance,

I sighed. If it was, there was nothing I could do about it. But wasn’t I thinking of killing myself a day ago? Why did that scare me if I was planning on biting the bullet anyway? And besides, why would the Ghost waste something like that on me? None of it made any sense, and I realized there was nothing I could do but wait.

Fuck, I hoped that needle at least had been clean.

…

It wasn’t long before a CitySec officer opened the door to the cell. He looked at me and jammed his thumb toward the hallway. I shambled up and walked over to the officer. I think the headache was getting a little better, though I still felt nauseous.

“What happened to your cuffs?” The man asked.

I weakly shrugged. “They broke.”

The officer snorted, but he didn’t press me on it. He led me down a long hallway made of cheap cinder blocks. The lighting was flickering overhead, and we passed by cells that were somehow worse than the one I had been in. He led me to a room with a lone metal table with two chairs on either end. Sitting on the opposite side was another man, dressed with the cheap suit of a bureaucrat.

He was balding badly, and just from first glance, I knew he was a slimy weasel. I had met guys like him before, people who worked their way to the highest position a low priority could hope for in the Democratic Union: preying on other low priorities. That’s what interrogators were for, putting their boot down on the detestable.

I was taken to the other seat and shoved down in it. I was still dizzy, and it took a moment for my eyes to refocus.

The man had a small blue folder in front of him. He didn’t open it. “You’re charged with trespassing on a crime scene and public intoxication.”

I stared at him for a minute, just trying to think. I was still processing everything that had happened. “I’m sorry, how is it public intoxication if it was on a crime scene?” I said dazedly.

Before anyone yells at me for being a smart-ass, I just want to say I was not in the right frame of mind when I asked that question.

But you know, there wasn’t any point in disputing the charges. There was no technicality I could use, no appeal I could make, not beyond the interrogator’s whims anyway. The charge may as well have been nailed to my chest. Still, I was kind of annoyed that it wasn’t even accurate to what I did. Trespass? Sure. Getting high? I was beaten like a dog than I had a fucking needle shoved in my neck! That was not my fault!

The small man glared at me. He had a pencil-thin mustache which was really close to his lip. Really pissed me off for some reason.

“You have two options, Mr. Mason. You can take this to court as is your right as a citizen of the Democratic Union. If you do so, I will press the maximum charges. Or you can waive that right, and you’ll be given a lighter sentence of eight years hard labor.”

The options might have been death and slightly longer death for all the good it did to me. And while I wanted to off myself, neither of those was appealing in the slightest. If I got out of this, I was seriously considering taking the suicide clerk’s advice and jumping into the river.

“Listen.” I slid my chair back so he wouldn’t have to smell my soiled clothes. “This was all a big misunderstanding. Can’t you cut a guy a break here? I don’t have any money. I just lost the place I lived. I don’t have anything. Please, I’m begging you, let me walk out of those doors, and I won’t bother anyone again. I swear.”

I really pleaded with the man. I’m not one to grovel, but if he asked me to get on my hands and knees, I would’ve done so in a heartbeat. I just needed a break, just one measly break in this miserable life of mine.

“These are the consequences of your actions, Mr. Mason. Perhaps you should’ve thought of that before breaking the law.” He didn’t even bother hiding the snark from his voice. He reached into his briefcase and brought out a single sheet of paper. “Now, I need you to sign this confessing that you are indeed guilty, and you can start serving your eight years.”

“Oh come on!” I yelled at him. “Eight years! For what!? I didn’t hurt anyone! I didn’t steal anything!”

Okay, that last part was kind of bullshit. I did kind of trespass to steal something. And you know what, maybe I was a bad person. Maybe I absolutely deserved everything that shat on my entire life. Maybe I was the kind of guy who deserved to go to prison. I don’t know anymore.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

But I did know that was not the reason I was in here. I’ve seen high priorities get away with fucking murder.

And the look this guy gave me told me, yes, this was not about what I had done. Rather, it was the unthinkable crime of making his life a little more tedious, and behind his bored expression, I could tell he was privately grinning from ear to ear. These guys didn’t do what they did to survive. They liked it. They took pleasure in putting people down. Maybe that was the only type of person who could do this sordid job.

“You don’t have to do this. I’ll do anything. Anything.”

The interrogator clicked a pen and tapped the document. “Make this difficult, and I’ll bump it up.”

“Please—”

“Ten years it is.”

“Just hold on—”

“Twelve.”

“Let me just say—”

“Fifteen.”

“For fuck’s sake!” I slammed my hands on the table. “Shut up! Just shut up!”

The interrogator fell backwards in his chair to the floor. He scrambled back with an abject look of terror on his face. I was confused, and I looked down. The sturdy metal table now had two very large dents in it. I held up my hands in front of me as if they had become magic. In a daze, I reached for the cuffs on my wrist. I peeled them off as if they were paper.

I was standing there shell-shocked when I registered that the interrogator was screaming into his radio.

“We have an abnormal! There’s an abnormal in this room! Get backup! Get backup in here fucking now!”

Still stunned, I walked over to the interrogator and swiped his radio away. I crushed it with my bare hand, letting the scrap fall to the ground.

I had super powers. Huh.

It’s honestly like becoming a kid again. I remember on the playground we’d all pretend that we could fly or lift heavy objects or shape shift. And when you grow up, you realize you can’t do those things. You’ll never be able to do those things. And while other people lead amazing lives, you got the short end of the stick. You lead a miserable life in a miserable world surrounded by people equally miserable to you, and all the while, you look up in the sky, seeing other people doing the things you can only fantasize about in your wildest dreams.

A switch went off in my head. I can’t remember the last time I was giddy about anything, but I giggled in that interrogation room. I cackled maniacally and laughed and laughed and laughed. I’m sure I frightened the interrogator to death, seeing the homeless man develop super strength and then giggling like a madman. Well, he could stay scared. I could kill with my bare hands.

A CitySec officer burst through the door and shot me. He shot me square in the chest three times.

I barely felt it. Glancing down, I reached up to my soaked shirt and peeled the bullets off my skin one by one. They didn’t even leave welts. It took me another moment to come to my senses of the situation.

I looked at the officer very seriously. “Now, I know you’re just doing your job, and that’s why I don’t mind that you just tried to put three holes in me. But I’m going to tell you right now, if you try to shoot me again, I will rip your arms off.”

The officer shakily dropped his pistol and ran hollering down the hall. I knew that I had a very short timeframe to take advantage of the chaos. I walked over to the interrogator, who was huddling over in a corner, praying to whatever god he knew.

I knelt over him, grinning. “Give me one reason why I should let you live.”

“Please—”

I ran my arm through his chest. He gasped and sputtered and moaned, and then he was dead. I’m not going to lie. That felt good. Even so, I couldn’t bring myself to look him in the eye when I killed him. I’m not a killer. Well, I’m not someone who enjoys killing. I stood up, blood dripping down my arm, suddenly regretting that I killed him.

That was when three more men with riot gear appeared in the room. I suppose that was all guys they could find in short notice. All of them had rifles, and all three pointed directly at me.

Now, I didn’t go from homeless guy to the rage murder machine in an instant. At that point, I snapped back to myself. I threw up my hands, just wanting to talk this out. But between the fact that I was standing over the corpse of their interrogator, and that my right arm was dripping red with blood, I guess they thought the better solution was to unload on me.

For a brief second, I was absolutely terrified. I braced myself, waiting for the bullets to cut through me like butter. My heart seized in my chest, and I waited to fall over dead. Instead, I remained standing there, completely unhurt. I looked up, equally surprised as the three men. I still hadn’t gotten used to being bullet proof yet.

Even though they had treated me rather poorly, I honestly didn’t feel like killing anyone else today. My head was still aching, and I really wanted some water. I wandered past the terrified men without giving them a second glance. Meandering down the hallway, I went by all the cells. I decided to have some fun, and I stuck my hand out, ripping the bars off as I walked along. Those cognizant enough went running every which way. The alarms were blaring in the halls now, or maybe they had been all along. I don’t know.

I entered a different part of the precinct. The floors turned to tile and the whole area generally became a lot nicer. I entered a room full of cubicles. Some people were still rushing about. They all dropped everything and turned tail once they saw me. I didn’t even look their way. My eyes were locked on the water fountain in the corner.

It was some nasty tap water, just what you would expect from a poorly funded department, but man, it was still the best drink of my life. That water tasted like freedom, and I gulped it down. Several men entered and began shooting at me. I continued lapping down the water for several more seconds as I vaguely felt bullets hitting me.

I finished, and I straightened up. Resting my head back, I groaned in relief. My headache faded a little, and everything just felt better. Looking forward to the men who were busy reloading, I wiped the water off my mouth with my arm.

“Run,” I ordered them.

They all looked up in absolute horror.

“Run!” I yelled at the top of my lungs.

They all booked it, leaving me in the empty office room. I glanced around, thinking about what to do next. I shrugged my shoulders.

I was going to have a little fun before I left.

I went up to the nearest office chair and gently kicked it. The seat went flying up into the ceiling where it crashed into a fluorescent lamp with a shower of sparks and glass. Dust and debris rained down, and the broken remains of the chair fell back to the floor. Giggling again, I picked up a computer monitor and chucked it at the wall a little harder. The monitor punched a hole in the wall, exploding into a thousand tiny pieces into the next room.

I began wrecking that office like a kid playing with his toys in a sandbox. The world had now become my very own playpen, where I could do whatever I liked. I ripped the water fountain off the wall and splashed myself with water from the busted pipe. I punched my arm through the wall multiple times, each one feeling more cathartic than the last. I stomped my foot and made a hole in the floor.

Even then, I was holding back most of my newfound strength. I felt that I could rip apart this very building if I wanted to. Nothing could touch me. I was invincible!

And as I was looking around at the destruction I caused, my eyes went wide as I suddenly realized who was likely on their way right now. As much as I felt I could take on the world, the real guns would be rolling in soon. I had to make my escape and make it fast.

I barreled out of the office room and ran as fast as I could for the nearest exit. I went so fast that I couldn’t turn, and I slammed through the wall. Again, I hardly felt anything as I accidentally kept going, wall after wall. I decided to run a little faster. Dust and debris coated me, but I didn’t care. Why should I have to listen to hallways! I didn’t have to obey any of their rules anymore!

Finally, I saw a room with a window, and I threw myself through the brickwork. Except, it was only a little too late for me to realize I was on the fourth story. I threw my arms up as I braced for the fall.

But I didn’t. I didn’t fall. I hung in the air as the dust was swept away by the wind. Below me was the street where people were screaming and running. It was chaos. A few of them stopped and pointed at the person hanging there in the sky. I saw a few more raise their phones to take videos of me. I didn’t care.

I laughed as I tried flying. It came as naturally to me as walking. It was like I had been born with this. I did a somersault in the air. I flew around from building to building, going faster or slower. It took several more minutes for reality to kick in again, and I bolted in the air. I thought about landing, but I was still covered in dust and blood. It wouldn’t be hard to pick me out of a crowd.

Maybe it was time for that dip in the East River after all. I pivoted towards the river and rocketed towards it. Getting more confident, I tried going faster and faster. The city turned into a blur before me. I saw the frozen river in the grey and brown landscape and plunged towards it. I knew the water was nasty and disgusting, but I was used to that.

I shot through the ice. The water parted before me like it was nothing, and despite the murk, I could actually see the river bed quite clearly. And yes, it was as nasty as you would think. But there was something else. Standing at the bottom of the river, I saw a world that I had never seen before. I was someplace I had never been before.

I saw fish swimming above me, like other people saw clouds in the sky.

It was surreal. It was like I crossed over into somewhere else, someplace I was never allowed to go to before.

Walking along the bottom—skipping really—I didn’t know what to feel. I had felt like I had been saved. But I didn’t know for what purpose or reason. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do.

I stopped in my tracks as I finally realized I didn’t feel the need to breathe. I didn’t know how long I could hold my breath. But it seemed there was no end to the surprises.

Maybe I would try to see how long later, but now didn’t feel the appropriate time. I needed time to adjust, time to sit down and think. With kicks of my legs, I traveled downriver for a few miles before punching out of the ice again and landing on the bank.

Resting on the gravel, it seemed I had lost the attention of the masses for now. I decided to lie low for a few hours and clear my head.

And after that… well, after that, the city was mine.