Post by airlock on Aug 14, 2006 9:54:14 GMT -5
OK, guys, look, this is the way things are.
No, that didn’t work as an opening statement.
Team meeting, everyone.
Neither did that.
It’s all FUBAR.
That’d probably go down like a lead balloon.
Lars walked along the busy street, his expression fixed in a strange parody of a smile, his heart heavier than stone. Several people who passed by the tall, blond man got a very definite sense of feeling stifled and cursed the humid Mississippi day.
He didn’t notice.
How did you walk into an office and tell people you’d known for several years that their livelihoods were about to be taken away from them? How did you tell someone like Annette, his secretary, who’d willingly relocated for the period to be with him, that when the project was finished, she’d go home unemployed?
Not for the first time, Lars wished he’d stayed as an architect. He was a GOOD architect. He had a great eye for design and detail. He wasn’t a manager. He didn’t have the kind of skills to do this.
He kept walking, lost in his own thoughts and was pulled back to reality by the sound of someone shouting ”Stop! Thief!” from the opposite side of the road. Startled back into the Here and Now, Lars turned to see what was happening.
An elderly woman was pointing after a young hoodlum, who had clearly snatched her bag and was racing away at top speed. Instead of trying to stop him, the crowd seemed to move apart naturally to let him through. This was what the majority of people on the street considered to be Someone Else’s Problem.
The ‘Someone Else’ in this instance turned out to be Lars.
He stared at the situation for a few seconds and then, almost without thinking, ripped off his sunglasses and concentrated his mental efforts on the man. He’d never tried doing this willingly before, had no idea if it’d even work without direct eye contact with the guy – but he may as well try. If it didn’t work, he could always run after him.
To the bystanders, the most peculiar thing happened. At first, it felt like the humidity lifted from them. There was an incredibly peculiar sensation of the stifling heat literally racing along above their heads, whilst they were left with lighter, more pure oxygen.
Several less tolerant people began to giggle inexplicably.
The vortex of humidity descended on the would-be thief and wrapped itself tightly around him, like some sort of cocoon. It didn’t stop him from running – but what it did do was start to slowly asphyxiate him as it absorbed all the oxygen in his immediate vicinity. The kid’s eyes bulged and after a few more faltering steps, he fell to the ground, choking. It was long enough for someone to catch up to him and take the bag back.
“Look at him!”
For the second time in a few moments, Lars was snapped back to the Here and Now and stared around to see several people looking directly at him. They were looking at a tall, handsome man, normal in every respect apart from the fact that his eyes were glowing an almost sapphire blue. He had no idea of this fact, of course, and feeling anxious that he might accidentally affect them, he put his sunglasses back on and walked away quickly.
“He’s a mutant!”
The words caused a ripple. Some of the noises were angry at the sudden revelation of a mutant in their midst, some delighted that he had reclaimed the old woman’s bag and brought a thief to ground. The thief in question was slowly getting his breath back and was being held down by a couple of eager hero wannabes who would, Lars reckoned as he hurried away, get all the credit.
That was just fine by him.
He rounded a corner and slowed his pace a little, his heart rate slowing down accordingly. He had just used his powers to help someone. Willingly. Knowingly. And it had felt…
…good…
Yes.
A huge grin plastered itself across his face and he headed back to the office. He sobered at the memory of what he had to tell his colleagues.
It was to be the least of his upcoming problems. 'Bad things come in threes', he'd said to Adrien. He was about to get the third.
By tea time, his exploits would be in the local papers along with a grainy piece of CCTV footage that clearly showed a definite glow to the man's eyes on the local evening news.
No, that didn’t work as an opening statement.
Team meeting, everyone.
Neither did that.
It’s all FUBAR.
That’d probably go down like a lead balloon.
Lars walked along the busy street, his expression fixed in a strange parody of a smile, his heart heavier than stone. Several people who passed by the tall, blond man got a very definite sense of feeling stifled and cursed the humid Mississippi day.
He didn’t notice.
How did you walk into an office and tell people you’d known for several years that their livelihoods were about to be taken away from them? How did you tell someone like Annette, his secretary, who’d willingly relocated for the period to be with him, that when the project was finished, she’d go home unemployed?
Not for the first time, Lars wished he’d stayed as an architect. He was a GOOD architect. He had a great eye for design and detail. He wasn’t a manager. He didn’t have the kind of skills to do this.
He kept walking, lost in his own thoughts and was pulled back to reality by the sound of someone shouting ”Stop! Thief!” from the opposite side of the road. Startled back into the Here and Now, Lars turned to see what was happening.
An elderly woman was pointing after a young hoodlum, who had clearly snatched her bag and was racing away at top speed. Instead of trying to stop him, the crowd seemed to move apart naturally to let him through. This was what the majority of people on the street considered to be Someone Else’s Problem.
The ‘Someone Else’ in this instance turned out to be Lars.
He stared at the situation for a few seconds and then, almost without thinking, ripped off his sunglasses and concentrated his mental efforts on the man. He’d never tried doing this willingly before, had no idea if it’d even work without direct eye contact with the guy – but he may as well try. If it didn’t work, he could always run after him.
To the bystanders, the most peculiar thing happened. At first, it felt like the humidity lifted from them. There was an incredibly peculiar sensation of the stifling heat literally racing along above their heads, whilst they were left with lighter, more pure oxygen.
Several less tolerant people began to giggle inexplicably.
The vortex of humidity descended on the would-be thief and wrapped itself tightly around him, like some sort of cocoon. It didn’t stop him from running – but what it did do was start to slowly asphyxiate him as it absorbed all the oxygen in his immediate vicinity. The kid’s eyes bulged and after a few more faltering steps, he fell to the ground, choking. It was long enough for someone to catch up to him and take the bag back.
“Look at him!”
For the second time in a few moments, Lars was snapped back to the Here and Now and stared around to see several people looking directly at him. They were looking at a tall, handsome man, normal in every respect apart from the fact that his eyes were glowing an almost sapphire blue. He had no idea of this fact, of course, and feeling anxious that he might accidentally affect them, he put his sunglasses back on and walked away quickly.
“He’s a mutant!”
The words caused a ripple. Some of the noises were angry at the sudden revelation of a mutant in their midst, some delighted that he had reclaimed the old woman’s bag and brought a thief to ground. The thief in question was slowly getting his breath back and was being held down by a couple of eager hero wannabes who would, Lars reckoned as he hurried away, get all the credit.
That was just fine by him.
He rounded a corner and slowed his pace a little, his heart rate slowing down accordingly. He had just used his powers to help someone. Willingly. Knowingly. And it had felt…
…good…
Yes.
A huge grin plastered itself across his face and he headed back to the office. He sobered at the memory of what he had to tell his colleagues.
It was to be the least of his upcoming problems. 'Bad things come in threes', he'd said to Adrien. He was about to get the third.
By tea time, his exploits would be in the local papers along with a grainy piece of CCTV footage that clearly showed a definite glow to the man's eyes on the local evening news.