Blue Stallion Series: The Blurr

Chapter Eight: In a Sound-Breaker

I closed the door behind me and stepped out onto the porch. Ten odd looking aircraft were in the front yard. They were vehicular and looking quite strange. They had large plasma-propulsion engines on each corner of the craft as a means of moving. Although there were ten vehicles, there were only nine people. I should actually say, there were eight teens and one adult, all in my front yard.

"Duncan Cass!" said the man. "My name is Morrison Wedlock. Me and my associates are here to get you. You are very important to us. We would like to help you control your power."

I walked down the porch in silence. I couldn't stop thinking why Damian acted the way he did. I neared Wedlock and said, "Am I the only one here that doesn't know what the heck is wrong with me?"

One of the teens answered, "It's not what's wrong with you, man. This is about what's right with you."

"Nick," replied a teen who was completely red (more like a Scarlet), "That doesn't make sense."

"Yeah it does, Hazel!" Nick retorted.

One of the guys tried to crack a joke, "You know what doesn't make sense? A Penny!"

All the other teens replied in unison, "Shut up, Albert!"

I couldn't help but to grin. Through all of that sadness with my brother and my nervousness of the future, I was still able to recognize my favorite type of joke, puns. I turned to see that Wedlock had, too, started to chuckle to himself. When he noticed me looking at him, he regained his composure and said to the group, "Alright, let's go, everyone."

Each member of the team climbed into a vehicle. I walked up to the empty one and asked, "How do you drive it?"

One of the teens replied, "We will teach you that later, but, for now, it's on autopilot."

"Thanks." I said flatly. I didn't really know what to say. I didn't even know what to feel. Between Damian's goodbye right into a pleasant group of teens, I wouldn't be against taking a quick run.

I told you puns were my favorite.

I climbed into the vehicle and sat down. The engines started and we began to rise up, into the air. For a few minutes, it was like riding a roller coaster right before it goes over the first hill, you are just rising up slowly. I looked down to see that we were about fifty stories up when we began to move forward, increasing in speed. As we increased in speed, a glass top slid over the cockpit, closing me inside the vehicle. Then we began to dash forward, eventually making a boom sound. About two minutes later, the speedometer read two point five mach. My ears popped and I began to feel dizzy. A voice over the vehicle's communicator, Hazel, told me, "You are going to feel dizzy, it happens to everyone. The Sound-Breaker is designed to be compatible with humans at supersonic speeds but we haven't perfected it yet."

"Great. So, I'm riding in a machine that could practically kill me."

"Don't think of it like that." Hazel replied. "Just think of it as us jumping over a puddle full of piranhas."

Another voice came in, Nick's, "Hey, you got Scarlet to joke!"

"Scarlet?" I asked. "I thought her name was Hazel."

A new voice came in, the one who told me it was on autopilot, "It is, but we all have code-names that we use when we are on our missions. Hazel is Scarlet, Nick is Hippo, Luke is Chipmunk, David is Radical Dust, Zak is Radical Thunder, Albert is Salor, Christal is, well, Christal, and I, Jared, am Hero. Even Wedlock has a name. It's Reality. Everyone on the Magna-Men have nicknames."

"Magna-Men?"

Zak rung in, "The leaders of us 'special' people. There were established after the Tri-Beings disbanded."

"Tri-Beings?" 

This time Wedlock answered,  "In 1957, two heroes, Gold Hood and Paradox, were battling over political reasons when a man stepped in to stop the fight to save the city that they were fighting in. However, he was crushed by a bus in the heat of the moment. The two finally stopped fighting and helped him back to health, but weren't able to keep all of his body, so most of it was replaced with a rare metal called matonium. It's able to be controlled, duplicated, and hardened at will. Today we call him the Human-Robot, after what his daughter called him before she died of cancer four years later."

"Is there one for me?" I piped in.

"I don't know." Jared answered. "Do you have one picked out?"

"Well," I responded, "Not really."

"Don't worry about it. You'll think of something." And with that, we landed.