Finding Mr. Superhero

Prologue

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Dedicated to 1olMichelle for the gorgeous cover. Thank you so much :)

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The screams echoed around the small room.

            Immediately the boy's body froze in fear, and the only sound was of cracking lightning and rumbling thunder. He stood up from his action figures and stepped out of the living room, barely sparing a glance to the storm outside. It was Washington. They had storms a lot around here.

            His mother was out at work, and the boy was an only child, meaning the only people left in the house were himself and his father, a world-renowned scientist who studied biochemistry.

            The boy's feet echoed on the cold wooden tiles, and his small hands balled into fists as he neared the wooden door, that, now, shrouded in darkness and silhouettes, seemed so cold and forbidden.

            He knocked on the door softly, his heart palpitating wildly in his chest. "D-Dad?" he stuttered, shutting his eyes briefly for a second and swallowing, trying to convince himself to calm down.

            There was no reply, so the boy knocked harder and yelled over the storm, "Dad! Dad? Can you hear me?"

            Once again the ten-year-old was left in silence, and his throat grew dry as he gripped the cold brass doorknob and opened it. It gave out an ominous squeak as it opened, and the boy cringed, hating the loud noise he had made. He stepped into the freezing room and shut the door behind him, his bare feet landing on a set of rickety stairs. He had never been down here before. His father had offered, but he had always thought of it as a fun, forbidden place. He'd preferred to imagine that dragons or goblins lived here, not beakers and potions.

            Down below he saw nothing but encroaching darkness. The sounds of glasses coming into contact with each other filled the narrow stairwell, greeting his ears and causing him to stiffen with trepidation.

"Dad?"

            He walked slowly down the steps, his footfalls drowned out by the howling wind outside. The basement was dark and gloomy; the perfect place for his father's experiments. Going down further he began to hear the booming voice of his father.

"Perfect, perfect! It's done; it's wonderful. They thought I couldn't do it. I'm a genius; a genius!"

His father stood there, a vial filled with purple liquid in his hand, seeming to almost glow slightly.

"Dad!" The boy called to him. He knew the wind would only get stronger and they needed to get somewhere safe, fast.

His father's head jerked up toward where he stood, and the scientist stared at his son with wide, feverish eyes.

"Ah, perfect! Come here, boy, come here!" He slowly walked closer to him, avoiding the broken glass that lay on the ground like shattered pieces of a broken heart. He turned his head to look back at the door as if it were moments away from flying off of its hinges and letting in the incoming nor'easter.

"Dad, th—"

A sharp pain laced up the back of the boy's neck, and instantly his body became numb and lethargic, as if lead weights pressed his thin limbs down.

"Dad?" he murmured sleepily, trying to make out the inside of his father's laboratory with narrowed eyes.

"It's okay, boy. Just a test. There's no need to worry; you'll be fine. His father strode across the room and took out some doctor's equipment. The boy's figure slumped further on the ground, his body feeling heavier; droopier.

"Just need to check your heart pressure, boy." He procured a stethoscope and began to untangle the needles and wires, humming to the tune of Mary Had a Little Lamb as he set about his work.

"Dad?"

He continued on with his silly tune.

"Dad!"

"What, boy?" he snapped impatiently, stopping what he was doing. The boy's body shuddered with the need to fall asleep.

"The news said a tornado was coming; we need to go. Dad, please!" he yelled desperately.

Glancing out the small rectangular window, his father saw how extremely windy it was outside and began to pace his lab before packing up his equipment, his narrow hands shaking.

"Not good at all, not good indeed, indeed not good," he muttered over and over. Slowly the boy climbed to his feet and stepped forward to walk toward his father, but almost immediately his legs crumpled to the ground.

"Dad, what's going on? What—what did you do to me?!"

A loud crack echoed throughout the basement before the majority of the ceiling was blown away, and rain immediately drenched both figures. The boy's eyes drooped as his father rushed toward him.

"Come on, boy, come here," he said, pulling him into his arms and hurriedly making his way to the back of the basement.

The world was spinning and tilting on its axis, and the boy was too disoriented to understand why.

"Dad, what wrong with me?"

He ignored the question and opened the small trap door behind one of the shelves, placing the boy inside the small room that would be no larger than a broom or janitorial closet. 

"You're going to do great things, son, remarkable things. You're going to have such power, but it's your choice to do with it as you wish."

He smiled and began to shut the door, sealing the boy into darkness.

"What—what about you?" he stammered, his small body shaking.

He looked at him and chuckled, his face beginning to blur in front of the boy's eyes.

"There's not enough room in there for the two of us. But remember something. I love you, son." 

And with that, he shut the door. The wind howled louder and shook the foundations of the house, the noise so painfully loud it hurt, but through the throbbing in his bones, the ache in his ears and the numbness in his brain, seconds before he blacked out, he managed to call out to him one last time; the last time he'd ever see his father.

"Dad!"