Sleep had come fast, but it was anything but restful. All night, Ronnie dreamed of the incident, reliving it over and over. The violence and how he had been gripped with fear. The rush of power radiating out of his body, and finally, the sickening crack as his attacker slammed against the wall. The sound of his screams echoed in his head just as they had in the darkness. It was the screams that finally woke him up, drenched in sweat and gasping for breath. Ronnie sat up in bed and tried to shake the dream from his head. It had been so vivid.
The room was filled with the kind of gloomy light that signaled early morning as Ronnie pulled his feet up to his chest and sat with his thoughts. Leaving his shift at the diner felt like a lifetime ago. Memories of the night came flooding back. Not the attack itself, but the aftermath. The man staring back at him with open eyes and a gaping mouth.
Ronnie had believed Silver Cyclone when he said it wasn’t his fault, that it had been an accident. A terrible event that ended in a way that no one — especially Ronnie — could have possibly anticipated. Even still, he wished he could take it all back. If only he could have controlled the outburst, or if he could have just gotten away in time.
Ronnie was pulled away from his thoughts at the sound of a chime. Looking around the room, he searched for the source of the noise. The chime rang again, a sing-song computerized version of a doorbell. Someone was there to see him. He swung his legs off the bed and winced as his body struggled with the effort.
“I need more of those pills from the doctor,” he gritted his teeth and approached the door, touching the panel to make it open.
“Good Morning,” A young man was standing on the other side of the door. He looked to be around Ronnie’s age, tall with terracotta brown skin. He was sporting a dark grey henley and wore the same black Syndicate pants as Ronnie, who instantly recognized the silver mask the man wore across his face.
“Silver Cyclone?” he asked, confused.
“Correct! Sorry for the casual look. We really only wear uniforms while on active patrol,” He pointed to his face. “Buuuut, you’re technically not Syndicate, and regulations say you’re not allowed to know any secret identities. At least, not until we get you fully vetted,” He smiled as if this were the simplest explanation in the world. “You hungry?”
Ronnie was starving. He realized that he hadn’t eaten anything since lunch the day before. He also realized that he was standing in the doorway only half-dressed. Silver Cyclone also seemed to have noticed, and Ronnie saw his eyes quickly scan for injuries with a look of concern before snapping back to his face.
“Yeah, um, let me get a shirt on first,” he replied, shuffling back to the bed.
Silver Cyclone called from the door. “How are you feeling today?”
“Sore as shit,” Ronnie said with a grimace. He attempted to pull the grey Syndicate shirt over his head and was met with a sharp pain that flared through his ribcage. “Fuck!”
Silver Cyclone was across the room in a few fast strides. “Here, let me help,” He took the shirt as Ronnie cradled the bruised area under his arm. The two of them gently worked, and with just one small wince, he was dressed.
“Thanks,” Ronnie smiled meekly, cheeks blushing. He felt like such a weakling.
“You’re very welcome. Ready to go?”
“Ready!” Ronnie slipped on the pair of sandals at the door and limped after his visitor down the dormitory hallway. Other people were out and about in the corridors now. Most of them seemed to be around Ronnie’s age, or perhaps a little younger. He saw one or two kids that looked to be about twelve, which took him by surprise. The other trainees made sure to say hi to Silver Cyclone as he passed while trying not to stare at Ronnie or his bruised face. “Pay no attention to the pitiful creature the superhero dragged in…” he thought to himself. He could only imagine what the others were thinking.
The two stopped at an elevator and then traveled downstairs several floors. The doors opened up to a wide entryway that faced the outside. Ronnie was lead out into a beautiful green space, completely surrounded by tall, white marble walls. He gasped. They were standing in the very center of the Syndicate of Heroes building, in a place that Ronnie had read about but never thought he’d get to see in person. The Garden of Remembrance. It was a place dedicated to all the fallen members of the Syndicate, heroes who sacrificed themselves in the name of the greater good.
If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.
“I can’t bring you into the mess hall, again, regulations,” Silver Cyclone explained, “But this is one of my favorite places in the whole facility. I come here often when I need to think or be alone.”
“It’s beautiful,” Ronnie whispered. It was as if someone had dropped a large city park in the middle of the headquarters. Meticulously manicured landscaping was dotted with flowering bushes and mature trees. A winding pathway cut through the garden and led to the center of the park, where there was a cobblestone plaza and fountain. Under one of the towering maples was a park bench. It was nestled in the shade and overlooked the fountain.
The two sat down, and Silver Cyclone handed Ronnie a paper bag. He opened it and found an apple and something wrapped in foil.
“Breakfast burrito, the best thing in the commissary.”
Ronnie unwrapped it and took a bite. It was indeed pretty delicious. He tried his best to not wolf the entire thing down as they ate in contemplative silence. Ronnie was taking in his surroundings, still in awe of where he was. He watched the splashing water of the fountain. It was of three people in a circle holding hands. The water bubbled up between them and cascaded down a rock face into a shimmering pool.
“What’s next?” Ronnie asked, breaking the silence.
“That’s up to you.”
“Is it? You know I have powers, you’re saying I can just walk away?”
Silver Cyclone nodded. “You always have a choice. There are plenty of people with powers who don’t join the Syndicate. Some are here just long enough to learn how to better control their abilities, and then they go back to their lives. The decision to use your gifts for good -- or evil-- is always up to you.”
Ronnie was silent again for several moments. He could feel Silver Cyclone’s eyes on him, taking in his reactions. “I don’t know how to be a hero. You saw how I got my ass kicked.”
Silver Cyclone laughed. “We can teach you how to fight, that’s our job. But you’re a good guy, Ronnie. You know enough about how to be a hero.”
Ronnie snorted at that. He felt utterly helpless, and all of it -- the powers, his life, his family -- were just so out of his control. “You don’t know anything about me.”
“I know enough. I know you want more from life than just working at a diner.” Ronnie looked at him, puzzled. “I’ll come clean. I did some digging on you last night after we parted ways. You graduated this year and were a pretty good student. Easily college material. What happened?”
“Life happened,” Ronnie sighed. He could still feel eyes on him, and they weren’t going away, so he continued. “My mom died three years ago. Car wreck. My dad was heartbroken and never really recovered, but was always trying his best to take care of us. He was a cop, one of the good ones. He got shot on the job about a year ago. Was messed up pretty bad and had to have a lot of surgeries. Hasn’t been able to work since. Now he spends too much time at home, still broken up about Mom and worrying about me. His recovery ate up our savings and with it my college fund. Not that I could really be leaving him alone like that, anyway. He wouldn’t do well all alone. I know it’s killing him to see me stay behind. But what choice do I have? He’s family. ”
“You’ve been through a lot. And we all make hard decisions when it comes to family.” Silver Cyclone’s eyes were on the fountain. Ronnie couldn’t quite read the expression on his face behind the mask. Was it sadness? Guilt? Whatever it was, it vanished when the hero snapped back to the present. “Well, I think it’s time to get you home, don’t you agree?” He smiled brightly and looked at Ronnie, who couldn’t help but smile back.
They headed back to Ronnie’s room so he could gather his things. Someone had washed his old clothes and had them neatly folded on the bed. “You’ll want to change back,” Silver Cyclone told him. “Might be hard to explain the new shirt.”
“Ok, I think I can get dressed by myself this time.” Silver Cyclone waited outside the door. Ronnie was able to manage, even if it took a while. He took one last look around the room and shook his head. “How surreal,”
They made their way to the garage. Another black car was parked in a spot waiting for them, and the door swung open as Ronnie approached.
“I’m not going to be able to head back with you.” Silver Cyclone told him with a small frown. “I’m leading a couple of sessions for the trainees, and then my patrol is later tonight.”
“Oh. I understand.” Ronnie thought it made sense; surely someone like Silver Cyclone had better things to do than babysit him all day. But there was still a twinge of disappointment.
“Just type your address into the car’s system, and it will get you there.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small white card. “Think about what we talked about today. When you’re ready, give that number a call. The Syndicate will be in touch once you do.”
Ronnie took the card and glanced at it. The only thing on it was a telephone number. He put it in his pocket. “Thank you. For everything.”
Silver Cyclone smiled again, the same bright smile as in the garden. Ronnie decided he really liked that smile and found himself returning the expression.
“Just part of the job, citizen,” There was wink behind the mask as Silver Cyclone extended his hand. Ronnie took it and looked right into the other man’s dark brown eyes. A moment passed, and they let go. Ronnie slid into the car, and the door shut behind him. He gave a final wave through the window as the town car departed the station.