Thursday, June 17, 2010

What Would Superman Do? Part 3.

The Death of Innocence

I killed my first bad guy today.

It was an odd sensation, feeling his bones break in my hands, feeling the helplessness of him change into fear, then settle into acceptance of his fate. As I broke him, I felt something change. I’d crossed a line, and it wasn’t one I was sure about. Superman never killed anyone. Superman would rough the bad guys up a little, and then toss them away for the cops to spirit off to jail.

I’m not Superman.

For those of you asking why I killed a man, that question will be answered in short. As for an update on powers, I am pleased to report that I have not gained any more, but the ones that I have are vastly improving. I am stronger than I have ever been. I am faster, more indestructible, and am continuing to lose weight and become leaner. My entire body is changing, and it has passed the point where I can explain it with heavy weight lifting, and people are starting to talk. For this reason I stay in the house.

There have not been many opportunities for me to help others. I have been looking as diligently as I can without seeming suspicious to those around me. There are times when it seems as if the world is at peace where I live, but so many things are going wrong every where else. Should I join the military? Would I be of more help if I were a policeman or some other kind of public servant? These are the questions that keep me up at night. Well, those and the fact that I don’t seem to need much sleep anymore.

Getting back to the person I killed. My first murder. Is it murder if you are defending yourself? Some would say no, but others would argue that with my strength, I have no need of self defense. I will recount the events and let you be the judge.

I was driving my brother to the doctor in Tulsa today. The fact that I injured my brother’s eye while playing tennis is another story entirely, but suffice it to say, I’ve had to watch how hard I swing a racquet. I am fortunate I did not kill him. As I was driving, I tried to switch lanes. There was a large black SUV in the lane I was attempting to get into, and I did not see them. This prompted the other driver to flash their lights and honk their horn, and then they tried to scare me by acting as if they were going to run over my smaller car with their larger SUV.

Before thinking about it, I gave them the finger. This caused them to start following me, of which my brother was blissfully unaware because of the pain medication he was on. When I turned into the parking lot of the restaurant we were to eat at, the SUV followed me. Not wishing a confrontation, I decided to head down a side street in order to lose them. What followed was a chain of events that was as unfortunate as it was upsetting.

The street ended suddenly in an alleyway. The SUV parked behind me, its occupant getting out and starting my way. I wasn’t scared, merely annoyed that the driver was causing me to be late. As I exited the vehicle, the man coming towards me pulled a gun. I flew towards him, stunning him with the speed at which I moved. In no time at all I had him disarmed. I tossed him across the alleyway, where he proved to be most tenacious by getting up and pulling another weapon, which he leveled at my still asleep younger brother. This could not be tolerated.

I knew I was moving faster than I should. He fired the gun, and I was there before the sound followed the bullet. I caught the bullet, spun around, and threw it right back towards the gunman, but my aim was off. It struck him high in the right shoulder, and it was more of a graze than a wound. He rose to fire again, and I had him in my steel grip in milliseconds. He relinquished his grip on the firearm, but I failed to loosen mine. He began to plead with me, begging me for his life.

When he realized he was going to die, he went quiet. There was still a fear in his eyes, but there was also a realization that there was no escaping this. I don’t know why I didn’t let up. I don’t know why it was so hard for me to stop. His spine snapped and I kept bending. When I looked up and saw my younger brother staring at me, I realized that I had almost broken the man entirely in half.

It wasn’t a bad feeling, and that’s what scared me. Thanks to pain medication, my brother thinks his mind was playing tricks on him, and when I tapped him lightly on the head to put him back under, I told him it was all a dream. He believed me.

But I can’t kill again. I won’t kill again. From now on, I need to be like Superman. What would Superman do? He would rough up the bad guys a little, and then toss them away for the cops to spirit off to jail.

But I’m not Superman…