The Monster Club [Original Superhero Story]

[Viserion_|||]

1994
Eleven Years since Black Christmas

Emrys Arthur Calhoun was eleven years old when he tore the arm off of Jeffrey Miller.

He didn't mean to do it. Jeffrey had been playing football with his friends, and he'd been running past the old oak tree Emrys was reading My Side of the Mountain underneath. Jeffrey had tripped, and Emrys had dropped his book on the early summer grass to rush over and help.

The day was hot, hotter than usual for Seaworth this early in the season, and Emrys's feet kicked up puffs of dust from the occasional bare patches of dusty ground in the small field behind the Seaworth Christian Academy. Jeffrey looked a little scraped up, and his breath was wheezing. His foot must've caught on that one root that rose from the field like a buried tire.

Emrys asked the age-old question for this sort of scenario. "You okay?"

Jeffrey nodded, and reached out a hand. "I'm fine."

Emrys took his hand shyly, and pulled him to his feet.

Or rather, he tried to. Jeffrey was still on the ground- but Emrys was holding his hand. That made no sense to the boy.

Emrys needed a moment to see the dark pool growing on the grass, the torn shoulder spurting crimson, to smell the scent of blood suddenly thick in the air. And Jeffrey started making a little huh-huh-huh sound. Still in shock, still waiting for the pain to hit. And then Jeffrey screamed bloody murder. Emrys dropped the arm, his mouth hanging open in the panting heat. The muffled thud of flesh hitting the field was shockingly loud to him. The earth swam beneath his feet.

Emrys was eleven years old, and he didn't know what to do. He never knew what to do, but this was an entirely new kind of "I don't know".

The other kids were staring at the two of them in curiosity, but they were beginning to get scared as they realized what had happened. They were beginning to understand that Emrys had done something really bad. Emrys did too, and he could feel tears welling up. He didn't know he could hurt Jeffrey like that! The screaming was still going on.

He turned to them, looking for sympathy, understanding, silently begging them to tell him it was okay. They looked at him with wide eyes and slack jaws, backing away from the bloody scene and Jeffrey's shrieks of agony. Emrys felt hot tears rolling down his face, tasted wet salt on his tongue and lips.

Someone broke ranks and ran for the small school building, three stories of peeling white paint and a shingled roof, more of a particularly tall house than a school. As Emrys began sobbing in rhythm with Jeffrey's shrieking and the horrible screaming from the other kids, someone shoved through the fleeing boys and grabbed Emrys's hand. Curly brown hair, dark eyes, a familiar face. Similar, but not identical.

Ethan, his twin brother, he was here and everything was going to be okay, right?

"Let's go, Ems! Run!"

Ethan was pulling Emrys, and Emrys stumbled after him as fresh tears ran down his face and the snot dribbled down his upper lip. Ethan yanked hard.

"Run!"

They easily vaulted the white-painted fence that kept the kids inside the field and onto the sidewalk. To their left were only more suburbs. Right led to the cul-de-sac that bordered the woods around Seaworth. Ethan needed no time deciding before he yanked Emrys right.

They barreled into the forest, stumbling just like Jeffrey had, branches slapping their faces and wiping away Emrys's tears. Emrys held Ethan's hand tight in his own, his only lifeline in the dappled forest sunlight. They stumbled and got back up, crashing through thorns and nettles, but Emrys felt none of it except for his brother's hand.

The brothers ran until they started getting short of breath, and then they sagged to the forest floor as one. Ferns, broken branches and moss were everywhere.

Emrys leaned back against a tree, and stared at the sun far above. The police were definitely there now. Jeffrey was probably getting an ambulance ride. Maybe he was dead.

Fresh tears seeped down his pale face. "Ethan, is Jeffrey going to die?"

"He's gonna be fine."

"Am I gonna go to jail?" Because that's what is supposed to happen when you use your powers. They throw you in jail, Dad had told them this many times. Some kid had blown up his classroom and then the government had made powers illegal. But Dad was off doing his military stuff, and he couldn't protect them now.

Ethan grabbed his hand again. "I won't let them."

They both heard the crashing sounds of policemen searching the forest, and got up at the same time.

The tasers made short work of Ethan's resistance, and Emrys had no spirit to fight back.
_____________________
2000
Six years later

The trees gave way like spiderwebs as Emrys smashed through the midnight forest. Only moonlight lit his way, but that was enough for his red eyes.

The helicopter's blades thrummed across the night, a spear of light suddenly blazing down on him as he ran. He growled and swiped at a towering pine with one hand. The slashing blow gutted the tree with a sharp crack, and the whole thing fell behind him. Emrys vaulted a five-foot tall stump with ease, and caught a burst of minigun fire on the way down. The rounds sparked off his invulnerable skin and tore holes through the hospital gown he wore, but he couldn't care less.

What he cared about was how the shells knocked him to the ground, and the explosion of Hellfire missiles that engulfed his body seconds later.

Emrys shook his head, and struggled to his feet. Three choppers were circling him now, illuminating his now-skyclad body as he stood in the middle of a broad ring of pulverized and smoking forest. He clenched his ashy fists, coughed up some soot, and cracked his neck.

Because this was how the game always ended- with him facing down a squad of goons. They were dropping down the cables now, aiming their electrical taser gun things, chattering to each other, getting ready to put him down. Emrys stared them down, all dressed in black tactical gear. Armed with every weapon they could ask for.

All Emrys had were his fists, and it was never quite enough.

Emrys lunged at the first one, feeling the sting of twenty or thirty electrical darts sticking to his unbreakable skin and pumping lightning into his body. They didn't draw blood, but they didn't need to. The salvo didn't slow him down, and he tore the man open with a wild sweep of his fingers. The man went down, broken and shrieking, and he kicked another goon between the legs hard enough to split him in half.

His foot got caught in the man's spine somewhere around the neck, and he wasted precious time ripping his leg free. Another dozen darts got his arm, each one pumping enough lightning into his body to fry a man. Enough to make his flesh go numb.

He charged another goon, plunging a tingling hand into his guts even as the thug buried an electric stun baton into Emrys's ribs. It didn't save the screaming man from getting his spine yanked out. Emrys stared into his blue eyes as the man's bowels loosened and he expired.

Emrys staggered away, electrocuted and dizzy. Another few dozen bursts of electricity. Another man's skull caved in, another's legs torn off by a wild sweep of Emrys's leg. The remaining thugs closed in.

The world swirled and darkened, then flared into blinding white light as they jammed their electric batons into Emrys. One of them got his chest caved in. Blood spurted from the dying man's mouth as he fell to his knees, an unsaid prayer on his red lips. The dying man's shattered ribs were stark against the black tactical gear. The air was thick with the smell of blood.

The men backed away, and one was fumbling with a little black device he'd taken off his belt. Emrys huffed incredulously, and staggered forward to attack.

The black device clicked on and Emrys's ears burst into flames, or so he thought. The sound was pure hell, nails in his eardrums. He briefly blacked out, then his vision cracked back. They pumped more lightning into his body, the batons making a sick sizzling sound. Maybe they were finally killing him. His head sure as fuck hurt like he imagined dying would.

The world tilted, and he hit the bloody ground. Everything was slowing down. He saw the blasted earth shockingly clear. Every bit of dirt and ashy splinters. Every burnt root. The swirls of smoke and embers. The lurid blood across everything. His ears were still burning spikes in his brain. The sound was his world now.

A black boot stained red came down just in front of his face, slow as molasses. He tilted his head, a lightning-drunk smile spreading across his face. Emrys grinned at the man glaring down on him.

"You… win… again."

The goon took aim, and put another salvo of electric darts into his face. Emrys closed his eyes, and pitched back into the void of unconsciousness.