35 YEARS AGO

  I kicked the ball so hard it bounced off the couch and smacked my little brother in the leg. Dayvon was a four year old crybaby, so I thought he’d cry again and get me in trouble. But he just laughed and kicked it back at me. Mom always said no soccer in the house, but soccer was fun. And fun was good.

  The ball went past me and I heard a loud crash. The lamp fell down and broke everywhere. Our smiles went away. If Mom found out we broke the only lamp in the apartment, we’d definitely get in trouble.

  Wait a minute… I didn’t break the lamp. My dumb little brother did!

  I looked at him, and my smile came right back. “Oooo! You’re in trouble. Why’d you kick the ball over there, you dummy?”

  His face turned red while he made a fist. “Don’t tell Mommy! Don’t tell!”

  “Sorry, bro, but someone has to take the blame for this,” I said, folding my arms. “Stop being such a pussy.”

  My brother raised an eyebrow. “What’s a pussy?”

  “I heard it from Uncle Von once. I think it means, like, you’re a scaredy cat.”

  “I’m not a scaredy cat. I don’t wanna be one. Mommy said I’m a brave boy.”

  “Well, if you’re brave, then you shouldn’t be scared to tell Mom what happened here. Brave boys aren’t afraid of punishments, ok?”

  He looked at the glass and pouted his small lips. “Um… Fine! But don't lie. You have to say everything.”

  I nodded, and immediately ran towards my mom’s room. I couldn’t wait to hear what punishment Dayvon would have to take. I bet it’ll be hilarious. Mom was probably sleeping again. I’d have to wake her. Dad was always the one working, so why did she always sleep for so long every day? Didn’t she wanna play with us?

  The door wasn’t locked, and the light in the room was still on. There was a sound in there that was hard for me to describe, but it didn’t sound like snoring. I gently pushed the door open. Flying was a superpower I thought only superheroes in the comic books could do. Who knew my mom could do the same thing?

  “Mom, what are you doing up there? How are you doing that?” She didn’t answer my question, even when I walked closer to her. “Um, Dayvon was playing soccer in the house again, and he… accidentally broke the lamp… Mom, are you sleeping while flying?”

  I grabbed her leg and quickly realized she was holding on to a rope using her neck. Maybe Mom was trying to fix the ceiling… But why not use her hands to climb it?

  “Mom!” I called out to her, shaking her body a little. “That’s not how you’re supposed to climb a rope, silly. You should’ve asked me and Dayvon to help. We’re really good at fixing things.”

  My mom still wasn’t answering me. “Mom, are you awake? You can come down now. Mom? Mom? Um, Mo-”

  She fell down. Hard. I jumped out of the way, afraid she’d get mad at me. But Mom didn’t move at all. That’s when I realized her eyes were wide open. People didn’t sleep unless their eyes were closed. Dad told me that once.

  S-She was awake, right? There was a wet stain on the blue carpet under my feet and food coming out of Mom’s mouth. I touched her body and it was cold like ice. Everything inside of me felt hot as I kept shaking her, hoping she’d wake up. Grandma died last year, and her body felt just like this, like touching the inside of a freezer.

  “She’s dead? Why? Mom’s dead? Why? Why?” I stopped and crawled to the bed. “Did someone kill her? They put a rope around her neck and killed Mom…” I peeked from behind the bed, tears coming out of my eyes. “No, the front door was locked. It’s always locked. Dad always made sure. And the only one who knows where all the tools are… are Mom and Dad.”

  That’s when I remembered something. Dad and I were watching the news, and a famous singer he knew about decided to take his own life. I never understood that. Life was fun and full of nice people. Why would you want to stop being alive? If people didn’t want to live, then how would that make the heroes that save lives every day feel?

  “I don’t understand,” I said, crawling towards her. Dad told me it was ‘cause some people were very sad and didn’t know how to be happy. But then why would Mom…

  I put my hand over hers and continued to cry. “Why weren't you happy, Mommy? Did I do something wrong? Did I make you mad? I don’t understand. Wake up so you can tell me what’s wrong. Please.”

  She still didn’t answer.

  My forehead dropped. Her hand was so cold. “I’m so sorry, Mommy. I’m sorry I didn’t make you happy. I’m sorry.”

  ******

  Once we reached the other side of the town, I felt a wave of dread try its hardest to wash me away, probably a warning for what was to come. However, leaving wasn’t an option. The only options to worry about were which attack I’d hit that murderous prick with first.

  But in order to get to Jason, we first had to find his one weakness. According to Horse Head, that weakness was through the wooden door in the ground in front of me. A lock on the door prevented me from going inside quietly, but since when has that ever stopped me? Just when I was about to send my fist downwards, Emmy gestured for me to stop.

  “Are you crazy?” she asked quietly, wide-eyed. “Punching a wooden door will create an unnecessary loud sound that will surely get us caught.”

  “I was just about to say the same thing,” Benji added, huffing and puffing while rubbing his back.

  “Then I’ll just rip the lock off.”

  Emmy shook herself out of my arms and blocked me from the door. “You will not do that. This is what you surfers call a ‘stealth mission’, correct? Then our results will be positive if we go about this in that way.”

  “Hey, it’s either my thing, or…” I pointed at Ricky. “We get the hammerhead shark to ram the door. Either way, we’re getting inside.”

  “Fuck you too,” Ricky said, flashing a smile.

  “Type Two, you were trying to perfect your energy constructs, correct? Is it possible for you to create some kind of laser that doesn’t immediately fire?”

  “I mean, I could try.” I raised two fingers, redirecting my stored energy into my fingertips. As the green light stretched out, the reminder to not fire it stayed fresh in my mind. The energy hissed like a blowtorch, and I waved it around to test how light it was.

  “The first try? That is impressive,” Emmy exclaimed, sweating.

  “Maybe you should use that to cut my goddamn ropes off,” Ricky suggested, but obviously no one was going to do that.

  “Let’s see how well this works.” The KB moved out the way, allowing me to walk to the door with the hissing laser. One downward slice, and the door collapsed to the ground, revealing the long set of stairs leading down to the ominous unknown. “Wow. Thank you, Emmy.”

  Emmy narrowed her eyes and looked away. “N-No need to thank me, Type Two. The obvious should’ve already been on your mind.”

  “There’s absolutely no fucking way I’m going down there,” our hostage said, shaking his head.

  I grabbed Ricky and said, “And that’s why you have no choice in the matter. C’mon guys, let’s get moving.”

  “Yeah, I am so ready to kick some ass,” said Bobby. Although, his trembling legs betrayed the false confidence in his voice. The dude was no use to us in this state, even with that teleportation ability. I’d just feel guilty if something bad happened to him.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  I put my hand on his shoulder. “Look, Bob, it’s fine if you don’t wanna come with us. You don’t have any personal reasons to join this fight. Don’t get yourself killed for nothing.”

  Benjamin slapped himself on the cheeks with both hands, and then sat on the ground. “Oh, thank God in heaven. I genuinely did not want to go in there. And my name is Benji.”

  “Ah, right, ‘Benji’. Sorry about that,” I apologized, scratching the back of my head. Crouching down, I decided to ask him something that’s been on my mind for a bit. “What is with everyone forgetting your name? I mean, it’s two syllables.”

  The teleporter chuckled. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve been a forgettable person since I was a kid. It’s not that bad when you get used to it.”

  “Everyone forgets your name because ‘pussy’ absolutely fits you much better,” Ricky said condescendingly.

  “Well… I might forget your name from time to time, but you helped out my daughter, and that’s something I’ll never forget.”

  Benji’s eyes lit up. “I thought you hated me for what I did to her, which I don't remember, by the way.”

  “I’m not gonna hate someone for trying to change.” I stood back up and began to walk to the stairs. “Besides, Sunshine says you’re good people. I don’t want her to lose another friend.”

  We broke into a run, our footsteps pounding against the narrow stairwell. The air grew heavier as we descended, each step taking us deeper underground until we reached another door at the bottom.

  I slowed, pressing a hand against the handle, and eased it open just enough to peek through. A basement-like room stretched out beyond the threshold, dim and cluttered, but safe enough for the moment. We stepped inside and moved through the heaps of nothing until we found something worth spending time on.

  That was when I stumbled upon something in the back of the room. A woman who looked like she was born in the 19th century lay on an unkempt queen sized bed. It was hard to tell if she was dead or not. Her eyes were closed, but she didn't snore nor did I hear any breathing. The wrinkles alone probably told me all I needed to know.

  I gently put my hand on her shoulder. “Why does Jason have her here?”

  “Maybe he has an elderly fetish,” said Ricky.

  The sheer disgust I felt from that concept caused my head to jerk backwards. “The hell is the matter with you?”

  Ricky shrugged. “You never know with these people. I knew a guy that would specifically search for hookers that were like 50 and up. It’s some weird shit, but I ain’t gonna discriminate.”

  “I’m his mother, you idiot!”

  The sudden voice made us jump in unison. The old lady who I nearly thought had died was now giving Ricky and I a wicked scowl. She tried picking herself up, and it sounded like her bones were cracking. After a few more attempts, the woman eventually gave up.

  “Hey, just lay down,” I said, concerned with her well being. “Don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

  “Eh, it’ll absolutely do her a favour. She looks like a dried up raisin. And raisins are already dry.” Ricky chuckled at his joke, though that only got him a smack on the back of his head. “Ow! What the hell was that for?”

  “Didn’t your momma ever tell you to respect your elders?” I asked the prick, helping the elder down.

  “Shit, I wish.” He looked like he wanted to say more, but he turned his attention to Emmy scavenging through the room instead.

  “Don’t lecture him. He’s got a rude tone, but he’s right,” the woman said. “I should’ve died years ago. Before my legs went and gave up on me. Now I’m stuck here… in this goddamn basement.”

  I pulled out a chair that was under her bed and sat down. “You said you were Jason’s mom earlier. Assuming you know him better than anyone, do you have any idea what his biggest weakness is?”

  She furrowed her white brows. “And why would you want to know that?”

  “Look, I’m gonna be honest with you. We… I came here to fight your son and hopefully put an end to his madness,” I answered bluntly. No use in sugarcoating the truth when she probably wouldn’t be seeing her son anytime soon. “I know it’s a hard pill to swallow, but he’s hurt and wants to continue hurting people-”

  “Save your words, buddy,” she interrupted, sighing. “You don’t have to explain why you want to kill my son. Everyone’s wanted him dead since he was a child. This isn’t anything new.”

  “So that weirdo’s been killing it up since the golden age, huh?” Ricky chuckled, shaking his head calmly. “Lemme guess… destroying ant hills was a hobby for him, right? Or was he more of a dog kicker?”

  Jason’s mom stared blankly at the giant asshole behind me. “Jason has never killed anyone or anything for pleasure.” She then looked at me. “Sure, he was fascinated by the concept of death and murder since he was a toddler, but we boiled that down to some mental illness. I assure you, he was my sweet little boy, a tame boy for such a long time. Until his father—that pathetic excuse for a man—went crazy! He’d have killed me if it weren’t for my Bartholomew.”

  “Who’s Bartholomew?” I asked.

  “Bartholomew Starks—my son who you people call ‘Jason Zoorhees’.”

  Ricky snorted, trying to contain his laughter. “Wait. His real name is ‘Bartholomew’. No wonder he’s an absolute psychopath. Who names their kid ‘Bartholo-”

  I punched him in the stomach, dropping him to his knees. After hopefully hitting the disrespect out of him, I turned back to the woman. “So what I’m gathering here is that Jason-”

  “Bartholomew,” she quickly corrected.

  “Uuum, Bartholomew. I think I’ll just call him Bart. I’m gathering here that Bart killed his dad to protect you, and that was his first kill. Look, I’m sure he had no other choice, and I’d do the same thing if it were my kid in your shoes. But you have to take into account all the innocent lives he took after that.”

  “It’s a mental illness, ok!? Bartholomew can’t control how he feels or what he does. I don’t know. He’s autistic or something.”

  “I’ve met my fair share of people on the spectrum, and none of them are like your son,” I told her sternly. “He's an actual villain. He needs to go.”

  “He hasn't done anything wrong. I assure-”

  “He's killed children!” My shout, a desperate shout to get her to understand, shut her up completely. “And he… wants to kill my child, ma'am. I am not going to let that happen. I'm sorry, but I am going to kill your son whether you like it or not.”

  The elder’s chapped lips quivered until she slowly morphed her face into an intense scowl. “What do you take me for, huh? Some kind of child murder advocate? I could fill an entire fucking ocean with the regret and guilt I feel for bringing that boy into this world. If I could kill myself, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

  I made a fist, gritting my teeth. “Then why do you defend him?”

  “Because I’m his mother, goddamnit!” This time, it felt like she was the one shutting me up. “The one job given to me by God is to love and protect my son, no matter the circumstance. Look at me… I’m only fifty seven. Fifty fucking seven, and I look fifty years older. That’s what stress does to you. And yet, I deal with it because I’m his mother. Every day I wish Bart would just kill me like he does to everyone else in this place. But I keep my mouth shut because I know he needs me there for him.”

  “Wha-”

  “He’s my baby boy…” A single tear ran down her cheek. “I love him.”

  Listening to those words felt like drowning in an ocean made of sorrow, and there were so many questions charging through my mind as I stared at her hateful expression.

  What the hell was her problem? Where did this love come from? Why him? Him of all people—that goddamn psycho. Why does she love him so much? What did he do to deserve this shit? It wasn’t fair.

  My body tightened while memories I wanted to forget came flooding back in with extreme force.

  How can someone so cold have a love so warm? Why didn’t I get this? It wasn’t fair. I never did anything wrong, so what was Mom so sad about? I was only a child. Why did she do it? Why did she leave me?

  Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?

  “Hey, you with the well-endowed forehead. What’s wrong with the Type Two? He’s been silent for approximately two minutes.”

  “Man, who cares! He absolutely nearly punched my stomach out.”

  “The Radion doesn’t react when I poke him. It’s as if he’s in some kind of trance. And there’s ooze seeping from his eyes.”

  “Ooze seeping from his eyes? You mean he’s crying?”

  “Crying? Don’t be absurd! Radions are incapable of human emotion on that level. And even if he was, what could possibly cause this?”

  “I don’t know. He was arguing with that old hag about Jason or something. After she said how much she loved her son, the prick just blacked out.”

  It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair. She loved me, didn’t she? Why did she do that to herself? What’s wrong with her? Mom, what the hell-

  A hard slap to the face brought me back to reality, and I was immediately met with the same vicious stare from before. However, something was different. Water poured out of her slightly closed mouth like she had just drunk a full glass of it.

  Emmy leaned her head closer to the woman. “What does this strange female gain from spitting out the water she consumed?”

  “She didn't drink anything… I think,” I responded, pushing my seat back. “I mean, there's no water anywhere here. She's old. It's probably, like, saliva.”

  “How fascinating. There's traces of energy within the liquid.”

  “Energy? Why the hell were there be-”

  I stopped talking, noticing the change in the mother’s expression. Her eyes became wide and glassy, and her mouth twitched between a grimace and a sob.

  “I will do… anything to protect my boy.”

  It was in those eyes where I saw the fearsome fury buried deep within her soul–only now visible through the tears spilling out–and a vision of my own demise.

  As energy quickly made its way to my hands, I released one last scream. “Sunflow-”

  My body was blown back by a powerful burst of water that erupted from the elder’s body. I felt myself melting, as though I'd just taken a morning dip into a pool of lava. The only thing left of me laying on the floor was the right half of my upper body, and even that was in shitty condition. With the ooze now gone, I weakly lifted my skeletal arm into the air, hoping for someone, anyone to help me.

  Was I able to get Sunflower out in time? What about Emmy? Was she alright? That prick Ricky better not have kicked the bucket. I still need him, after all. What else was there to worry about?

  Suddenly, worry began to take over the second I remembered the head stored in my body. Or at least, was stored. It wasn’t anywhere near me, and without its ability active, I was screwed.

  “E-E-Emmy! Emmy, where are you!?” I called out, holding my hand up.

  Just then, I heard coughs coming from behind.

  “Jerome, your health status isn’t looking promising,” she said, running up to me. “I knew that liquid was unnatural, but one that could deto-”

  “The… The head!” I shouted, grabbing her shoulder. “Do you see a head anywhere? Or a green colored girl!?”

  “The only lifeform with a green complexion is me. And there would be no ‘head’ of yours to find. Half of it melted away.”

  “Not mine! The other one!”

  Emmy raised her light green eyebrows. “What are you talking-” She stopped. It wasn’t ’cause I or anyone else began speaking though. Her head was turned to another direction, looking like she was staring death in the face.

  A bad feeling erupted inside of me, and it only got worse when I heard footsteps inching towards us. It was Jason. It had to be. But if he set that trap, then that maniac effectively got his own mother killed. How much lower could he stoop!?

  “Do not mistake me for a man lesser than myself.”

  That wasn’t Jason…

  “And don’t mistake me for a man who would ever be outsmarted by someone of your intelligence.”

  “E-Emmy, get out of here! Now!” Emmy didn’t move. She stood rooted to the floor, eyes wide, breath shallow.

  A man stepped into my peripheral vision, a man appeared at the edge of my vision, dressed so cleanly in white it almost hurt to look at him, his black hair gleaming in the lights. He stopped directly in front of her, and then looked at me as if Emmy’s vulnerability didn’t mean a thing to him.

  I truly didn’t understand what was so terrifying about him. Aside from his dead, emotionless eyes, nothing about the man was anything to write home about. He was lean and tall, but not so tall as to where you’d notice it from afar. No visible scars or battle-hardened face either. Has this dude ever fought even once before?

  It was hard to tell whether he just wasn’t afraid of the situation or he didn’t think there wasn’t any situation to be afraid of.

  “But don’t get me wrong though,” the mystery man continued, crouching down, sweeping his black hair out of his face. “It was a fine plan, but may I ask… at what point during that phone call did I say I wasn’t at Hallowsville?”

  Phone call? Wait… Is this him!? But there isn’t a lick of aura around him nor did I sense any sort of overwhelming strength from his presence.

  He was just some guy.

  “You’re… him, aren’t you?”

  He blinked slowly, like he had to process that question. “Yes… Yes, I am. I am him. I am Michael Corleone.”