The Mind of the Villain

Jason struggled pulling the knife from his own back. Each touch tipped the blade and vibrated the handle. The pain shot through his entire spine and caused pins and needles through his arms and legs.

It was as if he could feel the knife itself, like it was alive and fused with his soul.
A knife that did more than just hurt.

It set him on fire. Hornets pricked his major muscles. Beads of rocks ailed his ligaments, and a weakness prevented him from reacting to the next pulse of heat.

The tip of metal found its way towards his heart. Jason held his breath. And stopped his beating meat, sucked in his gut to force more air into his lungs.

Gravity seemed to lighten as Jason slowly exhaled, so carefully and controlled, he created a non-existent wind that churned the bodies surrounding him.

One of the unfortunate, unconscious provokers clanged into a nearby pole that busted his head open. Another caught the sidewalk and sheered through a pain of glass. One in the back got caught against the grill of a parked truck.

As the bodies defied physics, as they sailed above the buildings towards the moon, the clapping rushed in with the force of a hurricane.

The circling crowd cheered for Jason. They shouted his name in celebration and glory.
Admiration. Respect. Love.
Hero worship.
Jason whistled for me. No one noticed me in the crowd, against the sideline, in the background.

Shadowed.

I grasped the handle of the knife. My teeth ground together as I thought about my power. A simple one for a mutant. Basic telepathy to shield a single organ. Not something you brag about, not something you tell people.
Not something anyone notices.
Jason wanted to make a show. A young child pulls the knife, the hero roars in pain than stands to puppeteer the audience.

Except, this time, the knife snapped and sunk into the man’s back, his cape doing nothing to protect him against a carbon blade.

He died instantly. And lucky for me, a reporter took the perfect picture, starting the story that I’d dreamed of for years.

The power of the hero passed down to his young sidekick after Jason “Great Man” Gravity died tragically from an alien ambush.

A good ring. A good story.
The crowd lifted me up high, tossed me like I was bouncing on a trampoline.
I reached towards the sky, finally touching the glory I deserved.

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