The Parallax Effect

Chapter Three: Heroes

August 3rd; 6:00 pm

Wendell Kinghorn

The phone was finally picked up.

"You wet flip-flop, brainless excuse for a human being, piece of actual garbage, Wendell. What the hell were you thinking?" Benji practically yelled into his phone.

Wendell winced as Benji continued his tirade.

"Look—" he didn't even get to finish his sentence.

"Nope. You're not getting out of this with your 'reasoning'," he could almost hear the air quotes Benji was making with his hands. "That was unacceptable and you know it. If that random person hadn't chucked their literal shoe at your head, I would either be severely injured or dead. And that is not ok. My neck has bruises the color of your soul and I physically cannot move my head or else I pass out from the pain." He took a breath.

"I'M SORRY!" Wendell shouted before Benji could continue, "I'll say it as many times as you want! I wasn't thinking clearly and I know it's no excuse, but I wanted things to look realistic! I was expecting your precious 'heroes' to intervene before it got too bad, but they didn't! I promise I wouldn't have actually killed you! And plus, you can come over at anytime and get your neck healed by Dusty whenever you want!"

"I promise, if I could, I would. And then I would strangle you with your own intestines!"

"Haha, very funny. Like you could catch me even if you tried. And why can't Dusty heal you?"

He heard Benji sigh and then start talking, his tone matching that of a kindergarten teacher explaining why eating dirt is a bad idea, "Because, I'm not stupid and neither is anyone here. No one at H.A.U.N.T. has any healing ability that matches Dusty's, and if my neck was magically better, they'd get suspicious. Does that make sense?" The last sentence was laced with enough sarcasm to kill anyone else who'd heard it.

"Whatever, wimp."

"Oh, I'M the wimp, am I? You literally tried to kill me!"

"I SAID SORRY; you know what?" And without another word, Wendell hung up.

He pictured Benji's room, his brother's apartment in a building that belonged to his enemies, a place he'd only seen in pictures. He hoped it was enough. Closing his eyes and blocking out the chattering voices of his employees around him, he activated his Ability.

With a quiet pop, he appeared in Benji's room. Benji was sitting on his bed, furiously typing on his phone. Wendell's phone dinged, making Benji jump. He whipped around and glared at Wendell. "Asshole."

Wendell laughed, gleefully. He waltzed over to where Benji was sitting and plopped down next to him. His face and tone grew serious. He reached for Benji's throat, "Let me see your neck."

"No."

"Benji, come on, I just want to look at it."

"You mean you want to look at the bruises you made from almost murdering me, your helpless baby brother?"

Wendell rolled his eyes. "Benjamin Thomas Starley, let me look at your throat."

As the words left his lips, the doors leading to the elevator banged open and Thanatos, his sworn enemy of three years, ran in with a team of security guards, all carrying very large, very intimidating-looking guns.

"Ben, are you all right?" The hero called, worry lacing his voice.

He spotted Wendell, touching his team member's neck, and launched himself toward the two of them. Wendell jumped off the bed, startled. Thanatos tackled him to the ground, pinning him there. "What are you doing to him." He growled.