Future Flung Light
Dogs barked.
Flashlights shone.
Mia
ran.
Not ten minutes ago, she'd been having supper with her parents on a moonless winter night. A hot, nice fire had warmed the simple but comfortable house she'd lived in in Bludhaven. A city-state across the border from Vic territory, there had been warnings that the barbarians were readying something. The mayor had told them to flee into the city proper, out from the outskirts, but her parents had refused. They would not be frightened into fleeing at the hands of facists.
So they had died instead. It had all been just a terrible instant: one moment, the three of them had been eating some simple venison, and then all hell broke loose. Ten men had burst in through the door, and what had happened next...
Well. It was a familiar story. Facists killed "degenerates" and left orphans. Facists advance on an unarmed girl. With their guns drawn, because they are scared for their life, of course. Further in the town, bullets and shots rang out. Men die, women die, children die; and their murderers will face no justice. Her eyes were hot, stinging, blinded by tears.
Different story towards the end there, as her mom's stories filled her mind and her nails clawed through his face. Shots rang out, her ears were still ringing, but somehow they had missed and so Mia Cirel ran. Through suburb streets she ran, the snow and gravel crunching underfoot. She ran as dirtbikes whirred through the night, as bullets whizzed over head, as the lights grew nearer and nearer.
Finally, she saw it, as she bobbed and weaved through abandoned cars: the Siegel shopping center, a long abandoned mall from before the Collapse. A fallen, dilapidated monument to consumerism, made in a cheaply tacky imitation of classical style.
Not more than forty feet, then twenty, then ten-
She felt a knot of pain scream through her shoulder as she slammed through front window. The brittle glass had shattered into knife like points as she'd jumped herself through, and sliced open her shoulder. She rolled among the glass, new cuts opening on her side and on her hands as she did.
She finally came to a stop when she slammed into the old fountain. She laid there, hearing the soft rnch-rnch-rnch of boots on glass and snow. Biting back the pain she looked up.
Standing above her, there was a gun, and a man. Forty or so, certainly middle aged his face was grizzled and scarred and cruel, his eyes sickly green pits; and he was big, bigger than any man she had ever seen before. There was a contraption stuck to his back, four tubes laced with a radioactive green. "Out of luck, girl."
Time seemed to slow to a crawl as his finger tightened on the trigger.
She closed her eyes, trying to ignore the stinging, prickling pain in her eyes.
She prayed.
Before there could be a world-ending bang, though, a sizzle-scream
bzzt rang through the air as a faintly green bolt of fire rained from the skies. "Wha-you?"
A blue and red blur slammed into the ground, turning all eyes towards him even as a burst of stone sent the men inside running to cover. "Me."
He was very blue. That was Mia's first thought.
The second was much more important: he was floating. He was all dressed in blue, wearing a plain red cape and boots, and a dark black belt, almost like something out of one of the old history books.
More important than that, though, was the symbol. A red slice, cut through a black background. Different, yes. But not so different as to not plainly be a symbol not seen in far, far too long: Superman.
The big man rolled his neck. "You really wanna do this again?"
Superman crossed his arms over his chest. "Yeah. Yeah, I do."
Two hands lashed out, crashing together in a mighty blow. A great concussive thud whipped up wind and air and thunder, sent the other men to the ground.
Fist to fist, knuckle to knuckle the two men stood, limbs shaking as they did. For long seconds two stood, sweat pouring down their brows.
Superman flinched first. He drew back, and as he did the big man, with his filed-to-a-point teeth and rotted meat breath, lashed out in a kick.
Superman went flying as the boot slammed into him, before slamming into a pillar. It barely held, even as great chunks were sent flying.
Mia's eyes burned with tears.
The big man leaped at the fallen hero.
Her eyes burned hotter even as tears began to fall... and to steam?
There was a sound like meat being tenderized as fists fell.
Mia held her hand up to her eyes. She could tell it was hot, hotter than a torch, hotter than fire, hotter than anything; but she did not burn. She looked at the big man.
"Burn."
He turned around, only to catch a firestorm no wider than the eye to his back. It sliced through his contraption, burned his flesh. He
screamed, felt all the fury of a sun whipping him.
Then a moment later, Superman, half his face turned into a bruise, slammed his shoulder into the man's ribs. They gave, and he fell, even as Superman stood back up and looked at her.
"It is you."
The Victorians were screaming, aiming their guns, even as she turned. Her eyes burned bright red, before someon grabbed her wrist.
"Later! We need to get out of here now! Otherwise they'll just send somebody who can do the job."
She nodded, the fire in her eyes fading as she felt the two lift off. "Excellent. First lesson: how to fly!"
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