Super Reporter System - Anger Circulates

Chapter Type: Conflict (Social)

Triana is a small town straddling the southern border of Madison county. It has a population of nearly five hundred people, most of whom are dark of skin. In spite of this, the town, being right on Indian Creek, is welcoming to tourists. <1>

As a smaller town, it has never had a lot of wealth inherent to the area. Most of the businesses are family owned, and generic enough in appeal that you would expect to find them in any riverside town.

Brian Matthews is nursing his emotions in a plate of fried fish over French fries. The story he was sent to cover, the reaction from the neighbors had been nothing.

Raymond had been out to his neighbors for seven years. According to one woman, the only person who made a big deal of it was Raymond himself. The general offense about him dressing his dog up wasn't about the homosexual theme; it had been an honest concern that the dog was needlessly suffering in the heat.

Skipper (the dog) seemed just fine to Brian, even a bit on the hyperactive side. He was a dachshund, and seemed to be friendly, alert, and playful. Brian wished that he had thought to buy dog treats before coming all this way.

[System will remind you next time.]

'I'd say not to bother, but yeah, please do that.' Brian thought.

Brian had spent between three and four minutes..

[Three minutes, seventeen seconds.]

… listening to Raymond's plea for society to just accept "the awakened" at face value, and another forty minutes..

[Thirty-eight minutes, fifty seconds.]

… listening to the sort of shenanigans that made him appreciate his non-confrontational neighbors more.

In short, there was no story here. Raymond wanted there to be a story here, had tried to provoke his neighbors, but they were just BORED with his antics.

But there was no hatred, no moral lesson that Brian could find, just a neighborhood standing up for one of the local pets. Okay, maybe a paragraph or two. Maybe.

By the time he'd cleaned his plate, he was feeling better about his position. Okay, he'd lost a series of first page stories to Claire. No, she'd EARNED those stories.

Maybe he'd get to cover something more slice-of-life this week. Like that pinewood model car thing the boy scouts had done a year or two back.

[Unlikely. Those races happen in the fall, and it is now early spring. Perhaps they are planning to hide eggs for Easter?]

Okay, so maybe not model car races, but at least something that wasn't…

#

"The end of the freaking world." Sergeant Pierce said. "Ain't no Superman flying around in the sky, and now we got some freaking twerp saying he's the first person with two full-strength super powers? Super strength AND regeneration? Hell, I wish this loser was on our side."

Chance scratched the stubble on his chin. "How do we know he isn't?"

"Has he signed up with the military? The police? Even one of these super-groups?"

Chance shrugged. "Only been a few days, sarge. I like shooting meta-powered targets as much as the next sniper, but buying custom suits to his new size isn't exactly Lex Luthor level evil."

"Do you remember what Angelfire did just before attacking the naval base?"

"She ordered a cup of coffee and a donut…"

"That's right! She ordered a fancy decaf coffee and a glazed donut. And she went to the restroom, and then she came out ON FREAKING FIRE and melted her way through a chain link fence. No warning, no reason. Normal one instant, and full-on psycho killer the next."

Pierce went on. "And how did nobody see it coming? Because nobody was close to her. No partner, no group, no supervisor, nobody. And what happens when you take on group tasks by yourself, Chance?"

"The stress breaks you. You go crazy."

"Yeah, exactly. So, this guy has power. All power corrupts, it's just a matter of time until you gotta shoot this guy, Chance. Tell me you see that."

"I don't see that, sarge. You know me. When I see a target, I'm eager to shoot the target. This guy hasn't done anything that makes him a target yet."

"Keep watching him, he will." Pierce says.

#

Muscleborn is, in fact, trying to move his plan forward. "Yes, Roger, Jesus, a condemned building. Something big I can tear apart with my bare hands in a public show of power."

He pauses, part of his brain listening to Roger use way too many words to convey a simple idea. A. SIMPLE. IDEA.

"Well, then what about one of those confederate statues? I mean, people hate those things, right? Just want them to go away?"

Oh, god, Roger is BORING. His voice drones on and on and on. Not a solutions guy, not Roger. "I thought lawyers were for finding loopholes in laws like that. No, no. I don't care about buildings in Birmingham that I can bring down. I care about Huntsville and Madison. Okay, okay, fine. See what they're willing to pay for me to bring it down. But not before next Tuesday."

"Because, Roger, that's when Theo has the suit ready for me. Fine, prototype, whatever. Call it a field test. No, what I wear for my own protection is none of their business."

He lightly thumbs the phone to hang up.

He grabs a child's size bowling ball, crushes it in his hands over a garbage can. He's learned this is like his version of a stress ball. When the idiots around him won't let him do what he wants, he can do THIS to restore his inner balance.

Maybe he could do it with something else, like cats? No, chicks liked cats for some woman-logic reason.

There had to be SOMETHING he could do with his strength. He could TEAR STEEL, construction grade I-beams, not just rebar. He was the world's first died-in-the-wool superhero, and there were toy royalties to be made from that.

He just needs to get the word out.

His phone rings, it's Janet, saying something about Oprah being too busy to interview him this week, but would he like to take the Detroit benchmark test?

It's the first time he's used the muscles in his face to smile today.

#

"Claire, can we get photos for your story?"

"No, Luther, there are no photos for the story."

"What about the victims before they were victims?"

"Police need to notify the families before we can print their names or likenesses, you know that."

"Yeah, I know, it's just…"

"The kids?"

Luther nods. "Tabbi needs braces. I mean, four kids, sure, one of them is gonna need braces. But we just finished paying off Dee's. And now Tabbi is just…"

"We sell enough papers, boss. Nobody's getting cut. You said so last week."

"Okay, what CAN we do to sell more papers?"

"Boss, our online web subscriptions are climbing. If we keep giving people articles they want to read, we make money."

"Online sales. Did you know more people subscribed to the Onion than to our paper last month? The freaking Onion. What's next, a parody of Wikipedia?"

"Already exists, boss." Tae says from across the cubicle wall. "It's called…"

"I don't care what it's called! It probably has more subscribers than us." <2>

Luther stomps back to his office, gently closing the door.

"Well, Tae," Claire says, "that's one way to shut the boss up."

"You know what would shut him up better? Photos of this killer."

"Tae, tell me you are NOT going out looking for this crazy person."

"Ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies."

Brian comes in from the elevator.

"Oh, I know that look. You got a one-column story."

"It isn't even a full column." Brian admits. "What's next? Can we help out the Politics guys and gals with interviews?"

"Nope." Tae says. "They don't like what we got from the assistant DA about them confederate statues."

Brian clucks his tongue.

"Don't you DARE say those are just statues." Claire said.

"Wasn't saying that." Brian said. "I'm just saying, if they've been there for so many decades, why are they suddenly worth talking about NOW?"

"What? If white folks don't hear about it, nobody's talking about it?" Tae asks.

"Remember who you're speaking to, boy. That's the man who landed you this job, and you will respect him. Even if stupid things come out of his mouth from time to time."

"Yes, Ma'am."

Taeson's computer makes a pinging noise.

"Hey, do we ever get assignments in other cities?"

"From time to time." Brian says.

"Luther's asking me to go and get photos. Muscleborn is going to Detroit to get his powers measured."

Claire blinks. "Tae. Boy. You be careful. Luther gave this to you when he was mad."

"Auntie Claire. Sorry, office. Miss Claire, I will return safely AND with pictures capable of going on the front page."

<1> Real-world Triana is more diverse and economically robust than the one portrayed here. Apologies to anyone who knows the real Triana enough to realize how inaccurate it is.

<2> https://en.uncyclopedia.co/wiki/Uncyclopedia