SUPERWORLD

Marco II

"You think I did it?!" Marco shouted at the police.

They had brought him to the station and put him in an interrogation room. He felt like he was watching a tv show, like his perceptions had somehow left his body and become the multi-cam setup on the darkest comedy show ever made. Nothing felt real. He didn't have any sensation, save for the emptiness of having lost his guardian.

Josefina Ruiz-Rivera had been found dead, her throat slashed, in the dumpster behind La Zorra, her regular beauty parlor. As the officer explained it, the lack of any sign of a struggle and the absence of any signifiers to motives like theft or sexual assault, left only the possibility that Josefina was attacked by someone she knew for personal reasons.

"Look, son, I'm not sayin' you did it. All's I'm sayin' is we're havin' a tough time figurin' why somebody would up and kill a little old lady, quick'n dirty like, without takin' her money. Seems like somebody wanted her out of the way. Now I'm gonna ask you again, is there anyone you can think of that wanted tah hurt yer granny?"

"I–! ...no. No one." Marco fired up at the sound of the repeated, stupid question, but the fire died rather quickly, the new void that was his being didn't support fire.

"Ok, fine." The cop said, throwing his hands up. "You sit here and keep on thinkin', I'm gonna go talk to my partner and see if he found any security camera footage to clear all this up." And he walked out of the room.

This is stupid, life is stupid. Unfair, bullshit! Marco slammed his fists into the table with rage and frustration.

Life had taken his parents before he could remember their faces, and now it took Abuela, leaving him all alone in the world. The cops had brought him some food, a doughnut and milk from the vending machine, but he was in no mood to eat.

I know who did it, and it wasn't me! But I can't just tell them about him, they'll think I'm crazy and a murderer. The Man in Black looked like his Abuela before he tried to kill him, sounded like her too, except, in the wrong language. The cop came back in, a confused look upon his face.

"Erm, kid? Some guy from...the FBI is here lookin' for ya."

"What? Why?"

"Couldn't tell ya, but his badge checks out, so we got no choice but tah release you into his custody after he's done filling out all the paperwork. Agent Daniels will be in to get ya shortly." The cop gave him one last peculiar gaze before stepping to the side to close the door, revealing the horror on the other side.

There, at the desk filling out paperwork, was a man in a black, one piece suit, blond hair neatly combed, the very same man that chased Marco out of his home. Marco sat paralyzed in fear,

What the hell is going on? I need to leave. I need to leave now or else I'm going to end up dead.

Marco picked up his bag, they let him keep it as he had yet to be formally arrested, and stuffed the food inside. He looked around the small interrogation room, the only exit was the door.

Damn. Guess I'll have to make my own. Marco knew he had not hallucinated the blast he emitted from his hands. It had to be real, it had to be! Too bright, too warm, too real. Let's see if I can do it again...

Marco faced the wall made of large white bricks behind him. He put out both of his hands as he did when he used the power to escape The Man in Black. Marco strained his arm muscles trying to force out a blast, but to no effect. He tried just one hand, getting the same result. Then the other. Nothing.