Supes

Twelve: Mystery

Kyret turned her neck to the source of the voice. Aiden had olive-toned pale white skin, with bright blue eyes circled with thick eyeliner and a gleaming white smile. His stringy blonde hair escaped from his black bowl hat, and he wore a black button down and a pair of slacks. He made his way to the stage and the crowd went wild.  Children and adults alike rose to their feet to praise Aiden and photographers snapped dozens of pictures.

Kyret noticed Aiden’s charisma. It was as if he was a master. No one moved or spoke during his performance, they just watched with such enthusiasm and hunger. They were oblivious moths to an all-mighty flame. She wanted to look away. To make sure everything was the same as it was when she entered. She wanted to steal a glance at Luke to see if he felt the same way. But she couldn’t keep her eyes off of Aiden. Something in his smile seemed to ignite something within her. It made her feel safe and unsafe at the same time. Maybe his power was mind control?

Throughout the show, Aiden was nothing short of astonishing. His tricks and hi-jinks were no doubt entertaining. He lead a wiener dog through a series of flaming hoops, juggled cats, breathed fire and even pulled an actual bunny out of a hat. But now was time for Aiden’s finale.

Aiden’s voice commanded the space, “And now for my finale, could I please have a volunteer from the audience?”

To this, hands ranging from all sizes and colors shot up into the air. Aiden surveyed them all, then decided on a plump older white man. “You there sir, with the flannel shirt. Come on up.”

The large man struggled to get from his seat in the audience quickly, even stepping on a couple toes to reach the stairs to the stage. Dressed in a red flannel, cutoff shorts and boots, he hi-tailed his way to Aiden with a huge yellow smile awaiting instructions.

“For the finale, I decided to raise the stakes a bit. Josh is about to wheel out a table with a 9mm on it. This lucky audience member is going to shoot me right here in the stomach.

The audience gasps and claps hungrily in surprise. The man on stage looked nervous. Aiden continued.

“I have no bulletproof vest on or anything. Just plain, pale flesh. He will shoot me, and I will rise. You guys ready for that? Josh bring out the gun!”

A man dressed in a black T-shirt wheeled out a plastic table with the gun placed atop. Aiden picked the gun up and handed it to the man, whose eyes were wide with fear.

“I don’t think I can do this, man!” The man said, his southern twang tinged with panic.

“Oh for the love of God, would you just shoot me already?” Aiden replied. He was already growing bored.

“SHOOT HIM!” A child in the audience yelled.

“I can’t!” The man on stage replied. Sweat began to trickle down his face.

Then everyone in the audience joined in with the child to chant it.

“SHOOT HIM! SHOOT HIM! SHOOT HIM! SHOOT HIM!”

Aiden was anxious. “SHOOT ME, FAT ASS!”

And with that, the man fired two bullets into Aiden’s stomach.