Pink glittering light exploded around him in dazzling bursts, and Luca was raised into the air, simply levitated. His body was no longer his to control as upbeat techno-pop began to play. Was this…a transformation sequence? Thank goodness it wasn’t polka, one of the most prevalent forms of music in Northeastern County. Not that there weren’t some catchy polka songs, but “wee-hahs,” whistles, whooping, and accordions didn’t exactly scream “magical man.”
But the techno-pop accompanying the blinding pink light was definitely not going to help them stay hidden and avoid Biff’s attention. It was probably too late for the latter already.
“Boys, it’s been a long time,” Jennifer’s alto voice echoed in his thoughts. Jennifer? Is this some kind of hallucination? Why does hearing my dead sister seem the most unbelievable thing of all?
That impossible voice flowed around him again, filling him with warmth and hope, and a deep longing to hug her once again. “Brother…I’ve been watching you grow, struggle, and have your dreams dashed in this miserable place. I’ve watched as others try to tear you down as you did your best to stay strong. But now you need to continue to do that and stand strong for others with this gift.”
Jennifer, I’m not strong at all, Luca shouted in his thoughts, as he couldn’t speak while surrounded by the dazzling glow. He would have been in a lot of trouble earlier if Nick and Tschida hadn’t arrived.
“I’m not talking about brute strength, goofus,” Jennifer said. Could she hear his thoughts, or did she just know him so well, even though they were so far apart? “You’ll need strength of character and trust in each other, even though you’ve grown apart since losing Don, keeping secrets from each other, living with your own pain. Tonight is a new start – your beginnings as magical men.” Jennifer’s infectious chortling filled the air. “Now you can juggle rent, work schedules, and fighting some kind of sinister evil.”
The music grew louder and her voice faded. Luca tried to call out for her, but his mouth wouldn’t move. And what secrets were Nick and Tschida keeping from him? Why, why had Luca allowed this gulf to grow between them when they’d been like brothers?
Luca’s body shimmered as if it were made of starlight. He shouldn’t be surprised Jennifer had thought magical men were a viable solution to some evil force. What would a magical man from Northeastern County be? Captain Kielbasa? Sailor Wage Slave? Admiral Mullet? Binge-Drinking Guardian Bituminous with his sidekicks, the Miners?
Please don’t give us a coal theme…No coal, no coal, no coal… Everything here seemed to have some kind of coal theme here, including bars, streets, and sports teams. He imagined the three of them in varying shades of gray with the ability to summon cavalry in the form of the Molly Maguires riding unicorns. But surely Jennifer wouldn’t be that cruel. She could, however, be playful – a trait ever so evident to Luca in the transformation sequence straight out of an anime. Even with serious, miserable situations, like when Jennifer had been diagnosed with cancer, she’d still been able to make ridiculous jokes.; that was as much a coping mechanism as anything else.
Luca wondered if others could see this transformation sequence, if he could be attacked during it. He hoped it functioned like it did in shows, where villains were forced to wait until the transformation sequence ended. Otherwise, they’d be targets.
His hair glittered behind him, growing to his hips and fortunately not into a mullet shape. This was the kind of thing that happened to high school girls in places that weren’t Anthracite City, not to struggling adult men who should be finished with an undergrad degree by now. Could this really be a fever dream – some side-effect from working too many hours? If that were the case, his alarm would go off soon; alarms had a habit of going off during the best parts of dreams.
Tiny silver kittens with butterfly wings whirled up his arms. Light flashed and they formed dark pink ribbons lacing over his triceps. Cold metal appeared on his brow. Some sort of crown? Soft garments of silvery white encased his body – a tight-fitting shirt with puffy sleeves, small dark pink bows on each. Then a pair of tiny white shorts and a ruffled belt with a large bow at the back. High pink boots slipped over his legs. He ended in a pose with one hand raised to the sky, the other flashing a peace sign. And somehow there was a glimmering backdrop of a pink and silver cat with butterfly wings.
###
Nick’s right knee ached as his body bent and twisted to the angry metal music amid bursts of blue light and glitter. The melody was accompanied by voices screaming “Bunny, Bunny hop! Bunny rage! Raaaaaaage! Raaaaaaaage!” Dammit, Jennifer, if this really is you, I can’t even be mad. But someone is one-hundred percent gonna call the police, even if Biff’s already here. He’d heard Jennifer’s voice speaking to Luca, but had it just been to Luca? Or were they all going to need strength? Nick worked out; he’d be fine, unless that music summoned the cops.
He still wasn’t sure what was happening or if this were real at all. He hadn’t even had a chance to have a beer at the bar, so there was no chance anyone had put anything in his drink. The only thing he had was the Red Rager Manergy before he’d left his apartment.
Nick’s hair lengthened into a series of disheveled spikes as he twirled, his body prismatic. Small butterfly-winged bunnies hopped and loped about Nick’s body, but somehow, their movements were angry. Locks of dark pink flickered in his vision; had his hair changed color?
The clothes forming over his body distracted him from thoughts if his hair. His garb was predominantly white and silver, but he wore a bright blue greatcoat, trimmed in paler blue fur. Gold fur-trimmed epaulets appeared on his shoulders. Thick, plate boots – also blue – encased his legs. Instead of shorts, he was given tight-fitting white pants. His eyes were hidden behind a silver mask, with more of the pale blue fur. Atop his head, slightly askew, appeared a tiny gold crown.
It pissed him off that he couldn’t really understand all this. Why had he heard Jennifer’s voice? She’d been the closest thing to a mom he’d had when he’d been growing up as one of many boys at St. Jonah’s. Every weekend, she’d signed the paperwork with St. Jonah’s so Nick could stay with Luca, and then she’d take the boys on some kind of excursion, whether it was to the Wild Paws Zoo, or the park, whatever festival was going on, or they’d all play board games or video games together. She’d given his childhood some sense of normalcy, how things were supposed to be.
What did Jennifer want them to solve here? If Don was really in trouble, if someone was hurting his soul, if such a thing were possible, Nick was definitely going to kill whatever it was. Was he becoming a superhero? None of the superhero movies or shows he’d seen involved glitter like this though. But Jennifer had loved bright, happy things, so he’d deal with it for her.
Why did his knee still hurt? Shouldn’t being a hero and getting powers make him stronger? If he couldn’t be a pro-athlete, could he really be a pro-hero? But Jennifer knew this; she’d mentioned their secrets.
What if it wasn’t really Jennifer? In horror movies, evil entities knew the secrets of their human victims. This could be something else, something much more sinister.
“Are you kidding me, Nick?” shouted Jennifer, her voice breaking on a laugh. “You think I’m going to make your head spin 180 degrees and puke pea soup all over? Sorta like when you barfed sugary cereal all over the back of my dad’s car when I got my license?”
Shut up! Nick shouted in his thoughts, since she could read them. Not my fault you plowed over ever pothole at 90.
“That was the day Nick puked rainbows.” Jennifer giggled. “But your reaction, wow, it makes me extra sure I chose the best powers for you.”
Damned bunnies… She’s dead and she’s still teasing. Fuck, I miss her.
###
Tschida relaxed to the classical music that accompanied the green light. He preferred this music that cleared his thoughts, and they needed to be clear now. He could be surprised later about the dead dog, a voice from beyond the grave, and what definitely appeared to be magic. Surprise was a luxury for when they were safe.
Logic did not apply here, not to his immediate circumstances. But his head told him this was real, that he was gaining some kind of power. Those powers would be useful, especially if applied properly. Illogical powers could be logically used. If whatever this was could help them with the Officer Biff problem, this same power could be used to combat threats to his friends’ safety and his own safety.
He remembered that day after school. Don and Luca had gym last period. Nick had a track meet in another district, and he’d had to leave school early. The other three boys were to meet at the benches in front of the glass doors in the lobby to walk home together.
Only Tschida had been waiting there until twenty minutes after the last bell, until he’d gone to the locker room. There, he found Ian Janowski ordering Don to take a bottle of prescription pain killers. “You want to be a doctor, smart boy. You should know what these do. My grandfather’s been taking them for years; they won’t hurt.”
“They make ya feel good though,” said Mike, a broad-shouldered linebacker on the football team, and one of Ian’s closest companions. He secured Don’s shoulders in his brutal fists. “You’re weird enough that everyone’s pretty sure you’re on drugs anyway. Least now you’ll have a reason.”
“I…I’m allergic to a lot of things,” Don murmured. “And what’s in the bottle is a lot m-more than your grandfather probably takes.”
“If not, we’ll cut your friend’s face. He’s too pretty anyway.” Ian chuckled at his own words.
“Pretty sure we’d be helping him out,” said Ian’s sidekick, Logan, who held Luca by his ponytail. “He’ll look like less of a pansy.”
Don was only slightly taller than Luca, with dark brown hair and sad brown eyes. He was a timid, soft-spoken boy, an easy target for people like Janowski and his minions.
Tschida would never forget Luca’s sobs as he ran in fear, or Don mewling with his back against the lockers as Tschida had struck Janowski, and struck him again, and again, and again. Ian had been, and still was, like those villains in Nick’s favorite horror movies who kept coming back again, and again, and again, because no one bashed their head in enough times. After so many incidents, and this time putting Don’s life at risk, logic dictated Tschida make sure Ian didn’t come back the moment his back was turned.
Tschida had thought Janowski would never bother them again, and that Don could go home and feel safe. But Don never went home and probably never felt safe again. His last week had probably been full of fear, and the correctional facility offered no solace or comfort, even to those who didn’t belong there.
And Janowski had come back. Nearly a decade later, and that tired franchise had another sequel centered around an election.
As he was wrapped in thoughts, his body danced gracefully, slowly to the calming, upbeat tune. He tried to ignore the small winged puppies that booped and fluttered around him, leaving clothing in their wake. His color was a deep green, his glasses growing into a sleek eye mask, half green, half white. His chest was encased in a refined waist coat, sewn (magicked?) with pearlescent puppies. His pants were tight, and tucked into boots of deep green leather with bells on the cuffs, much like the bells that tinkled from the ends of the tiny jester hat atop his now blue-black hair.
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