3.9
12:13 PM, 20th April, 1989.
Location: Following the compass West.
Even travelling at speeds just below sonic this is taking a while. Flash is in the central US, I'll have to fly through no less than five states to reach Keystone city. Depending on angle seven or more. In the middle of nowhere I stopped by a diner at a tiny town.
The looks were caught between superstitious and abstract horror from most of the residents that saw me. Apparently they didn't believe in superpowers here, any more than magic. They'd seen television reports and suspected a hoax. Of course the fact my baggage was floating, just like myself was proof enough.
Five people inside looked at me like I had grown a second head. A young man, an older man with the look of a hillbilly, a girl around eighteen who was dressed for farm work, an old lady at the counter with a book and who I assumed was the store manager, a bare armed fry cook.
"Get out of town, ya demon!" The hillbilly looking man seated at a table shouted as I opened the door without touching it.
I looked at the hick for a few moments. "Is that the opinion of the owner?" I asked aloud. "Because believe me, if I were a demon, the loudmouth would already be dead. As it is, I just want a cold drink and something to eat."
"What are you?!" The older woman asked from the counter, perhaps less terrified.
"Metahuman is the term, miss. A person with powers. I'm perfectly willing to toot my own horn, I'm known as Bubbleboy in France." I answered smoothly. "However I prefer my own name, Magnus."
"You're that kid that wuz in Metropolis with Superman and the black fella." The young man added.
"Yes. Now I'm just out touring the countryside." I stretched and yawned. "I've had a lengthy flight and need to take a break."
"And I said to get the fuck out of town!" The hick shouted, standing angrily.
"Mister, you don't want to make me angry." I replied levelly.
He strode over and tried to get in my face, to yell and threaten. I simply raised a barrier, that he slammed into and bounced back off of, shocked.
"Wha… the hell…?" He began, before trying to punch me. I mean, sure Parasite and Chemo can break the things, just like a fairly high calibre bullet. But scrawny, violent idiot? No chance. He came away swearing and hugging his battered fist, since he might as well have punched solid steel.
"Now, are you going to be civil or..." The hick simply left muttering.
"Uh… I don't know what you did kid, but Bill won't take that lying down. He has a gun in his truck." The younger man warned.
"I've fought giant monsters, I'm not scared of some jumped up over-aggressive bigot." I replied, ordering a Soder. "Besides, you're all witnesses. He has already attempted to assault me."
Ah, there he is. Returning with a rifle.
"Hey, you fuc..." Bill began to yell as he kicked open the door, before his voice caught as I held up my hand and clenched it. The rifle deformed, the barrel twisting into a pretty bow.
"Sorry Elmer Fudd, it isn't rabbit season." I coldly said before taking a sip of my cola, not even sparing him a look. Wires uncoiled from my side and he screamed at they overtook him and hogtied him to the door. "Now, you're all witnesses to attempted murder."
The chef scratched his head. "Look kid, you'd better get out of town. That's the sheriff's cousin."
I rolled my eyes. Really? "Oh, this is going to be such a hassle." I gulped down my drink. "Well, I'd better go meet your corrupt sheriff then. I'd really like to see him try to do anything to me."
And here he comes, with a pair of deputies roaring down the street in their cars.
I exited the diner, bag floating along behind me.
As the sheriff pulled up and drew his weapon I was waiting, floating there in the middle of the street. The deputies tried to encircle me.
"Hello. I have captured this individual, named Bill after he attempted to shoot me with a rifle. He is quite helpless, so weapons are unnecessary." I offered.
"On the ground, now!" The Sheriff yelled.
"On what basis do you accost the innocent tourist?" I asked smiling.
"'cause you're flying! What the fuck?!" The officer responded.
"So are you going to read me my rights? You are arresting me, I assume. I wonder what the charge is." I commented.
"Witchcraft." He spat.
"I'm fairly sure that law isn't in the Constitution. However you are wrong, I'm purely psychic." I responded. "Although one of my best friends is a sorceress."
"Shoot the miserable demon-fucker!" The officer shouted. He screamed a moment later, as I melted his firearm into a puddle of steel, burning his hands and those of the deputies as well.
"Oh dear. Were you trying to kill me? For no apparent crime? You small town hicks must not have heard of me. My father, the current ruler of a minor nation… with an army at his beck and call fears me enough he begged the UN to keep me out. The US was so afraid when I flew here they scrambled fighter jets, just for me. Which I could have ripped from the sky like toys. Now some two bit morons with a badge dare challenge me for defending myself… well now, I don't think you understand the power scale. Let me demonstrate." I picked up the police cars and crushed them into cubes, then stacked them neatly. "So I'll be reporting this incident to my handler, who will speak to someone so far above your pay grade they may as well be God and they will investigate from there about your attempted murder of a French Hero. I hear a life sentence in jail is hell for cops. Not that you actually were more than thugs."
I floated into the diner to find the payphone in the corner.
I had to spend a heck of a lot for an international call. "Hello Fleur, business call I'm afraid. Nothing serious, just a few fools who thought a badge and poorly thought out aggression was a reasonable response for me breathing in their town. I only gave them some minor burns and destroyed a few police cruisers. It didn't seem worth the effort to actually hurt them. Nothing to gain."
She sounded relieved. "I'll have words with the CIA liaison in Paris and arrange for their arrest and investigation. At least you didn't kill any of them. That's harder to spin."