Arrogance: Volume One of Ebb & Flow

In hindsight, working out for two and a half hours after not having solid food in weeks was a recipe for disaster. My breath reeks of vomit, and the workout has negated my earlier shower. Strands of sweat-soaked hair hang across my face; I should’ve brought a hair elastic. I’ll have to clean myself up before I meet up with Aubrey. I want to appear determined, not disheveled.

After my second quick shower today, I change into jeans and a gray hoodie. I put my hair into a bun and check my phone. Aubrey texted me while I was working out. She’s awake and available. Her mom’s at work, so no one can eavesdrop on what we say. Maria is still fast asleep, so I leave her to slumber peacefully. Not waking her will be my first subtle sign that we are growing apart. Tiny little things will slowly widen the divide between us until she inevitably breaks up with me. It will be her idea, so she will be able to get over it quicker. The best part is I can feign depression and trauma from losing my good friend—the lovebirds who could not reconcile and get past a tragedy that rocked a small town.

I step outside and feel the warmer air against my face. Pretty soon, I’ll trade in the hoodie and jeans for tank tops and shorts. I peek at my phone, and it shows the time as seven-fifteen. My drive over to her house goes smoothly. The town is normally quiet around this time, but it’s even more lifeless. New Farford will forever have a cloud that hangs over it. A miasma of sadness that won’t dissipate for years. A town with less than four thousand population lost a whole generation of kids in one evening. Signs hang in windows with the names of those who have passed. Rest in peace; spray painted against brick buildings, and the people out tread around like zombies.

There are so many emotions I have never been able to study—new facial expressions and gestures to learn. I can further tweak my mimicry because resting on my laurels now will only hurt me down the line. A professional who stops perfecting his craft is an idiot and an amateur, and I intend to be neither. Pretty soon, I might gather enough emotional pieces of people to make it genuine.

I pull into Aubrey’s driveway and let her know I’m here. She gives me the go-ahead, and I head inside. The Iskan house is a pleasant two-bedroom. Aubrey’s dad was never around, so her single mother raised her. The woman works double shifts as an ER nurse at St. Augustine. A thing Aubrey and I have in common is caring single parents who work endless hours to provide for their children. While my house is sterile, the Iskan house is the polar opposite: warm, inviting, and with a faint cinnamon scent. There are folded clean clothes on the couch, mail all over the kitchen table, and everything is slightly disorganized. It feels human in a way my home does not.

While her house might look human, Aubrey Iskan does not. She hasn’t taken Marcus’ death well. Her usually well-kept hair is greasy and tangled. Without any makeup, I can see how little she’s been taking care of herself—a zombie wearing an oversized stained sweater and pajama pants. The look screams depression. I underestimated how far gone she would be. Am I going to have to give a pep talk? This might throw a wrench into my plan. Our eyes meet, and she starts ugly crying. I rush over and put my arms around her. She sobs into my chest while I hold her close. How many people will I be forced to comfort in the coming weeks?

“I’m sorry, Aubrey. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.”

Unintelligible noises come out of her as she loudly sobs. She apologizes between breaths, hyperventilating as snot pours out of her. Her emotional outburst is messy, and at this rate, I’ll be changing my clothes for the third time today.

“Shhhh. It’s okay. I’m here. I’m back.”

I pat her back, mimicking the action I’ve seen in movies. Rub counterclockwise, firm but gentle, like a parent comforting their baby. I slowly move her over to the couch and sit down. It’s awkward standing here while she gets all my clothes wet. She pushes me back, and her eyes are bloodshot from crying.

“I thought you were dead. I thought you were gone like-” Aubrey doesn’t finish her sentence, but the meaning is implied. She’s avoiding saying the name Marcus, our friend for over a decade, whose life I snuffed out. A shudder goes through her, and she looks at me for answers.

“I’m not. I’m alive. I’m right here, and everything is okay. You’re alive. Jean-Luc is alive. Maria is alive; we’re all ali-,” I cut off my sentence before saying his name.

“SAY IT! SAY HIS FUCKING NAME!” She screamed at me.

“Marcus,” I whispered.

“Everyone avoids it, saying his name. My mom, Jean-Luc, hell, even I do; it’s too painful to say. It’s not fair, Eryk. Why did we survive and Marcus died? WHY?” Her voice is harsh and raw with sadness.

She is so upset by this. Did I misjudge how close the two of them were? I need to get her to relax. I can already tell this situation will test my ability to stay calm. If I freak out, it will ruin any hope of my pitch working.

“I don’t know. None of this makes sense.”

“Did you know they couldn’t recover the bodies? By the time the firefighters and the BNA arrived, the whole place collapsed on itself. The fire was so out of control that they fucking let it burn out so it wouldn’t spread to the forest. All of our classmates are fucking ash in the wind. And the worst part? The one who did it isn’t even here to pay for his fucking crimes. I’m tired of feeling sad, Eryk, and that’s not even what I feel the most. I’m so goddamn angry, Eryk, at myself, at Davis, at the BNA. And it has nowhere to go.”

“I can’t say I know what you’re going through because, from my perspective, it happened last night. All of this is still so fresh, and I haven’t had any time to think. But there’s something I have thought about; someone should've helped Davis or stopped Jake before it got this bad. I’m always so flighty that I didn’t even notice our classmate being bullied. I feel like this whole thing is partly my fault. If I had done something, anything, then maybe he’d still be here. I feel like I’m the reason he’s gone.” Tears begin to fall from my eyes as I look at her.

“What? Eryk, it is NOT your fault that Marcus is dead. There’s nothing you could have done. There’s nothing any of us could have done. The only thing that can stop a Cowl is a BNA task force or a Cape. And last time I checked, there weren’t any Capes at the party. One day, I’ll be able to make a difference, even if I have to wait years to join,” she said.

I quickly wipe my face on my sleeve and take her hands in mine. Strike now while the iron is hot.

“What if you didn’t have to wait?”

“Eryk, I know you don’t care about Neuvohumans, but you need at least a bachelor’s degree to join the BNA.”

I put on the most determined face I can create. “No, I know that. I’m not talking about the BNA; I’m talking about joining the ranks of Capes.”

There’s a look on her face that’s a cross between suspicion and intrigue. I don’t think I’ve ever seen it before. It slowly forms into a frown before she shakes her head.

“I’m not a Neuvohuman, and I don’t have any powers. You can’t be a Cape without an ability.”

“Correct, but something happened at the party, Aubrey.” I look down at my lap.

“What happened?” She asked.

“I- I don’t want you to hate me.”

“Eryk, I could never hate you. Me, you, Jean-Luc, Mar-” She hesitates briefly. “We’re best friends, and nothing could ever make me hate you.”

Good, she is finally something other than upset. I highly doubt you would say that if you knew that I pierced Marcus’ skull with a fire poker. Regardless the conversation is within my estimations again. Everything is going well, and Aubrey is reacting how I thought she would. Now is the moment of truth, and it all starts with a deep breath.

“At the party, I got trapped in a room engulfed in flames. No way out, and slowly burning alive, a miracle happened.”

Pause for dramatic effect, just long enough to pique her interest.

“Wait. Are you saying…” She let the unsaid question linger.

“Yeah. I triggered that night.”

Her eyes go wide at my words. Easy to read, emotions play across her face: worry, confusion, excitement, and envy. “You’re a Neuvohuman? Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. YOU’RE A NEUVOHUMAN?”

I let out a laugh at her exclamation. Laughing has always been one of the easiest things to mimic. For the first time since my arrival, she looks happy. Aubrey is in the palm of my hand. Our loud laughter continues for a while, and when we stop, I deliver the killing blow.

“Yes, I am. My ability is somewhat weird. I don’t fully understand it.”

“What type is your ability? Manipulator? Traveler? Or something more unique? What is it? Tell meeeee.” She pleaded.

“I’m not too sure. I haven’t done much research into powers, but I think I classify as a Neutralizer and a Manipulator,” I said.

I thought long and hard about what to tell Aubrey about my ability or, rather, abilities. I saw online that most Neuvohumans choose not to talk about their trigger event. I’m making a gamble that Aubrey doesn’t know how awakening an ability works. Even with my exceptional memory, I still adhere to the advice that the more in line a lie is with the truth, the easier it is to keep track of it. So, I’ll fudge the details and keep my cards close to the vest.

“Not only do you get an ability, but it’s one of the rarest categories. Life is unfair. Ahhhh, I’m jealous. Do you know every kid dreams of being a Cape? Well, except you. And then you’re the one who becomes one. It’s almost enough to make me laugh. So, spit it out. What’s your power?”

“Somehow, I absorbed Davis Allen’s ability. I realized I had it within myself when I woke up in the hospital.” I answered.

“You have his power; you’re a Tinkerer?” Aubrey asked.

“Yes, and also no. I have Davis’ Tinkerer ability, but I can’t use it. And before you ask, I have no idea how I got it.”

“So you can steal other people’s abilities? A permanent Neutralizer is unheard of, or maybe it only triggers upon death. Most Neutralizers have a condition. Is yours to be near them when they die? Or maybe it just requires them to be unconscious.” Aubrey started mumbling to herself, forgetting I was here.

“Aubrey.”

“Will the ability go away after a specific period of time? What’s the range required for you to get it? Can you only hold one at a time? Or perhaps there’s a fixed amount of powers you can hold?”

“Aubrey,” I said again.

“Is it three, five, maybe a prime number? Or it could be an even number. What happens when you have more than you can hold? Does it replace the most recently acquired power or the oldest?” She continues to ignore me.

“Aubrey. Aubrey. AUBREY!” I am finally forced to scream just to get her attention.

She needs to start fucking listening better. Or I will make her start fucking listening. Stop. This is not your anger. Do not let a dead kid’s tantrum control you.

“What? Why are you yelling at me?” She asked.

“Because, Aubrey, you haven’t even let me finish. There’s a second aspect to my power. The reason I’m telling you any of this instead of keeping it to myself. Aubrey, I can give you Davis Allen’s ability. I can make you a Cape.”

The silence that follows confuses me. Based on Aubrey’s personality, goals, and background, she should jump at the chance to become a Cape. Did I make a mistake? Should I have chosen Jean-Luc? His personality isn’t right for what will follow, but that is what I will have to do if she says no. That and I would have to kill her, too. It would be a shame to have to kill another friend. Finally, after what feels like twenty minutes of quiet, she speaks.

“YES. Yes, times a thousand. Eryk, this is what I’ve always dreamed of. Whatever I have to do, I’ll do it. All I’ve ever wanted to do is fight crime, and you’re giving me a chance to do it as a Cape? This is my chance to make sure that nothing like that party ever happens to another person. I don’t want anyone to deal with what we went through. I’ll do whatever it takes to make that a reality,” she said harshly.

There’s conviction in her eyes, a deadly seriousness that wasn’t there before. She means every word she just said. Right now, she will accept anything I say; I’ve succeeded. The first step has gone swimmingly. I grasp her hand and hold it tight.

“All you need to do is hold my hand. This will be my first time trying this, so I don’t know if there will be any side effects. Are you sure you want to do this?”

I am unsure if Davis’ rage will transfer over with the ability. If it does, I lose a source of emotion, however troubling. It might cause her to spiral further into her negative feelings. I feel the Tinkerer ability stir within me as I slowly send it to Aubrey. I count the three hundred seconds in my head until the ability entirely passes to her. For a moment, nothing happens, and Aubrey looks confused. That lasts until her eyes roll into the back of her head, and she falls over on the couch. My power doesn’t cause any damage, but it does need to impart the knowledge of the ability. Which, unfortunately, seems to have caused her to faint. I can no longer feel Davis’ power or the other piece that came with it. Instead, I can sense it from within Aubrey.

I get up from the couch and head to her kitchen to grab two water bottles. She’ll be thirsty, and there’s no telling how long I’ll have to wait. Even in the other room, I still feel the power from here. It’s odd to walk around someone’s house without them. I’ve been here hundreds of times, but the eerie quiet doesn’t belong here. This place is filled with memories of the four of us growing up together. The kitchen table where Marcus told us he’d never get to play again and his dream was dead. The prom photo we took as a group sits on top of the fridge next to knick-knacks Aubrey’s mom has collected. Four chairs are at the table, one has shorter legs, and we always argued about who had to sit in the “bitch seat.” I continue down memory lane for a few hours until I hear Aubrey stirring from the other room. She blinks open her eyes as I enter the room. Will she be aware of the part of Davis that’s now inside her? I’ll have to spin this like I didn’t know.

“I’m a Cape now. It worked…”

“How are you feeling? Any strange sensations or feelings?” I asked.

“I’m thirsty as shit, actually,” she said while laughing.

“And the Tinkerer power?”

“It’s hard to explain. It’s like my head is filled with ideas and full of knowledge I shouldn’t have. Other than that, I’m fine, and it worked. I won’t forget what you’ve given me.” Aubrey said.