It's the beginning of the first chapter of a super-hero story I'm making. It's probably terrible, but feel free to criticize.
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Nothing ever went wrong for this quaint little family, and it was actually quite remarkable how functional this unremarkable family was. This might have been due to the lack of a grandparent for the child of any kind, both parents being the only kids from their parents, generally the family being so small or any number of things.
The wife was Karen; she was a cross of Caucasian and Asian, so her eyes were slanted ever so slightly. It went quite well with her eye-liner. She always wore a simple dress with one or two colors, and had black hair she kept in a pony tail. Mildly short, and very intelligent; she had previously been a professor at Harvard University in physics. She was too "into" her job however, and was laid off, when soon after she discovered she was pregnant with
Luke. Luke had jet black hair and had obviously carried his mother's trait of intelligence, already being able to read basic sentences and speak, and was already quite self-aware. A well-behaved baby that laughed at everything slightly funny.
The father was Michael L. Kent. He had brown, slightly over-grown hair that was combed to the left. His front teeth had a slight gap, his smile was sincere, he had brown eyes, and had four different suits to wear to work. He always wore a tie with red stripes and his nick-name was Shock in high-school, due to his problem and overall hate of static. He was quite frightened of it, always fearing the quick sting. He loved video games and actually collected them. He had nearly every official ATARI 2600 game. Both Mike and Karen were twenty-nine.
Today however, Michael was by himself. He did hate this lonely feeling, and longed for his wife's lean shoulder to wrap his arm around, his little boy to laugh and play with. To Michael, they were lost gifts, gifts he could hardly go on without. He was driving to a place he was simply told to go on this day, but no longer; he had pulled over, rested his head in his hands and wept. Mike had lost everything; his job, his number one hobby, his financial stability, and his family. "Gone…" he choked to himself, and wiped is eyes with his sleeve, accidentally zapping his forehead. His breath was cold and hopeless.
On another day -a week before- Mike was also driving, only to Walgreens, to fetch extra diapers for his little boy. The whole family was there, with Michael and Karen singing to their favorite song on the radio Hey Jude, with Luke cracking up in the back seat. Quite an entertaining trip, as any would observe.
The mini-van (which Mike absolutely despised and had always longed for an exotic car, or at least something with more dignity) had been halted, waiting for the green signal. Green light flashed, and the mini-van, at the front of the line of cars, began to move forward, until Mike cried out an obscenity, and pulled his wife's head into his arm and reached with his other for Luke, after seeing a rather large truck come blasting through the red light straight at them. The two collided, Karen screamed, Luke's laughing ceased very quickly, and Mike's door cracked and fell open from the impact. Mike's seatbelt came undone, no airbags went off, and he rolled out as the minivan began to flip, which went right over his head, as the truck, which had a "Hazardous Materials" sign on it, skid and flopped down somewhere close to Mike. The side cracked open, and greenish liquid crept out (which almost looked like it was electric, spouting small bursts of lightning at random positions) and seeped over to Mike, into a bloody gash on his wrist. By this time Michael had lost all consciousness, all the while other cars were screeching to halts, one banged into a light post, and civilians were crying.
The truck was full of a new chemical that was to be tested with biological warfare. It had quite a long scientific name, but was commonly referred to as "electric water". The driver was incredibly drunk, and he had died after his head and body smashed through the windshield. Civilians had all been moved to the side and away from the area, men in yellow hazard suits came, and men in black suits with sun glasses watched. The spray of powerhouses and whee-ow, whee-ow of the police cars, fire-trucks, and ambulances were all that were to be heard.
Mike awoke in a strange place. He observed the surroundings; the room was all white, and very bright, a book was on a nightstand, a door with a mirror covering it was to his right, he was wearing a nightgown, and was underneath the covers of a soft bed. A clock was up above his head, and it was one o' clock in the afternoon, or night, he didn't know which. He couldn't recall where he was or how he ended up here, but it was rather strange.
He noticed a gash in wrist however, and was amazed at how eerily green it was. He also had many cuts and bruises across his body, and a huge bump on the back of his head, which was extremely sore. He was then hit with the stunning realization of what had happened, and threw off the covers and ran over to the door. He tried the knob, which was locked, and thus was extremely pissed off, and started banging on the glass and screaming, "Where the hell is my kid, my wife?! Where am I?! Open this door or I swear to God I'll -"
The door was forced open and Michael fell back. He looked up into the eyes of a middle-aged man who was very thin and crusty looking, wearing a pitch black suit. His eyes were pale and ghostly. "Calm down Mr. Kent. No harm will come to you." The man turned and called outside, "Get a counselor in here!"
"No harm to me? What about my family? Tell me!" Mike was shaking in rage, looking down on the man in the suit.
At that moment another guy walked in, more casually dressed. "Michael, you should sit down, if only for a moment. You have a lot to take in, so just relax for a sec'."
Mike lowered onto the bed, breathing heavily.
"We have some bad news," the counselor said. "Mike, your companions aren't.. well they can't -"
"Dammit, just spit it out!"
"Yes, yes! Well, Mike, your fellow travelers in the car didn't make it," the man said, fiddled with his glasses, and sighed.
Mike buried his face in the pillow and sobbed; he had already figured that out, he just didn't want to believe it.
"We are very sorry. Were they family?"
"Are you kidding?!" Mike cried out. "It was my little boy and wife, who did you think it was?!" He slammed the pillow onto the bed and started to walk out.
Two bulky men came up and blocked the entrance, holding batons. "Not so fast Mr. Kent. We apologize, we didn't have time to brief the counselor." The old man nudged him back.
"So you know who I am?"
"We know everyone Mr. Kent," he replied coldly, and motioned for the counselor. "I'll be back in fifteen minutes." They walked out and closed the door behind them, leaving Michael alone. But he had been alone for twelve hours now.
It was the worst fifteen minutes Mike had ever to endure. He was at a complete loss of thought and felt utterly defeated, and had an inquiring urge to end his own life. He couldn't carry such a task out however, and just sat, silently, staring at his feet. He kept hearing Luke's laugh and sudden gasp and silence on a constant loop in his head, but he couldn't even cry. He had lost everything. This was beyond depression, it was a mental Hell that Mike was chained to, forever. Five minutes passed. Now he was playing back every moment he could remember in chronological order from the day he first met Karen up until the crash. That played back five or six times. Ten minutes. Mike started crying again, just modestly, and very slowly. The clock's hand hit the three marker and the door opened again, and the suit man walked in.
"Mr. Kent, hello again. I think I should introduce myself properly; I am Mayhew. I'm from an organization known as S.H.I.E.L.D.. We hosed you down but we couldn't get rid of the radiation. Until we realized the radiation was inside you. The gash on your wrist… yes, the green one, is where a lot of the material from the truck that hit you went. It's "electric water" as we call it. Highly toxic chemical, or so we thought. It's infected your bloodstream with super-natural electricity. According to out sensors, everything inside you is working okay, but your brain appears to have developed a new limb, or so it appears."
Mike looked up at Mayhew quizzically.
"Well, not literally like, a new arm or leg. But something of that extent. Soon, you'll be back home. In one week, you will go to this address," Mayhew handed Mike a slip of paper. "Be there. Don't make us fetch you. Don't mention any of this to anyone. My, its nearly one-thirty in the morning! Nice chatting Mike." Mayhew gave Mike a thin smile and walked out.
Mike hadn't really listened. He wasn't even thinking. He started to feel drowsy. He gave in and fell into blackness.
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