Super Crush (BxB)

What's In the Box?

I take a swig of my iced latte. For almost 32 minutes, my cursor has been hovering over the file named H3R0_E1.

Yes. I have been looking at the clock.

Before this, it took me 28 minutes to even click the "unzip" button on the folder Malware sent me. Which is the most progress I have made in two days. I have watched recordings of my dad countless times throughout my life. Major milestones like birthdays and holidays. Footage of him playing peek-a-boo with me and kicking my butt in video games. Moments I knew him in.

I always return to my favorite video of me at twelve sleeping on his shoulder at the Mets game that went into extra, extra innings. It had to be close to midnight and my belly was full of popcorn and soda. In it, he is narrating as though I am an elusive wild creature found on his nature channel. His goofiness always made me laugh. It diffused my anger even in situations where I thought I was going to explode. For being such a nerdy intellectual, he still knew exactly how to comfort me when I needed it–something my mom sometimes has trouble doing.

I have cherished these moments of our history together so much that most of the clips, especially the ones I don't technically remember from my younger years, have been committed to my long-term memory. He is a TV show I can binge-watch and never get sick of yet remain heartbroken that no new episodes will ever be released.

Until now.

Yes. The recordings will be from years ago–kinda like the director's cut of a classic–but they will be never before seen footage of a finale that I have had to deal with for four years. There are only seven videos. A very short season even for the age of TV steaming companies.

Maybe that is why I haven't opened the first clip yet. Maybe this is why I just keep hovering over the file. I don't want to get invested and feel let down if the entries end without the closure I now realize I need. Closure I thought I built for myself when I thought my father had died from an accident. No matter what, I know the ending will remain the same, but what if this changes everything that got us here?

In opening this box that sits all dusty in the attic of my mind, I may not be able to close it again. What if I am Pandora? Letting out the monsters and the plagues? Am I foolish to ignore the voice telling me no in my head? I let out a sigh, reminding myself that Pandora also found hope. In all of the darkness released, she brought one of the greatest gifts to mankind. The ability to raise your head and power on, knowing everything is going to work out in the end.

Dammit, Pandora. I double-click the file and the video program pops up a scene of an empty lab.

-SEPT 3- In the bottom corner starts the countdown of my father's last days. If the date is right, this clip was filmed about six months before his death. A man enters the shot.

I'm Dr. David Brasso.

There he is. Short salt and pepper hair that always made people guess he was older than he actually was. Haven't-had-the-time-to-shave stubble that I can still feel scratching against my palms. Round rim glasses that I would pull from his face and wear around like a mask. And his sparkling slate eyes that projected his charisma like fog lights. I can't prevent the chills that start at my toes and end at my smiling face.

This is the Elite Protection division of The Fleet.

WHAT! I almost spit my espresso out.

Dad secretly worked for The Fleet all of this time. I mean I knew he was a scientist, but I just assumed it was for some lame chemical plant or something. Really, it's my fault. I don't think I ever asked him where he worked. I push off the tug of guilt knowing he would not have been allowed to tell me that he secretly works for the world's largest and most powerful superhero team. I prevent my mind from wandering into all of the other job possibilities and internal services and divisions within The Fleet that the normal civilian has no idea about. Instead, I focus on something different. My ignorance probably made it easy for him. In not asking him more about his job, he didn't have to lie.

Today commences the clinical testing for a new enhancement drug called "Heroizon." The Heroizon serum delivers specialized T-receptors to a subject's cells, altering them on a molecular level. Essentially, it tricks the body into thinking it is in danger of a mass foreign organism attack. Besides inducing a temporary mental and physical high, if successful, the subject's adrenal glands will initiate a wide-scale fortification by spiking hormone levels, immunity response, metabolism, and blood pressure. This response interacts with a latent gene in the nitrogen pairs of the subject's DNA. An underlying chain reaction, as studies suggest, will wake a possible dormant physiological trait. "Wake" might not be a suitable explanation here. Maybe "magnify" is a more accurate descriptor. Hmm. I digress. Either way, in layman's terms, this reaction leads to the possible emergence of superpowers.

I pause the video and take in the fact that my caring, thoughtful, stubble-faced dad created Cloud 10. Yes, he has called it something else, Heroizon, but I know what is going on here. The strait-laced cheese ball engineered a fatal drug that is causing chaos all over the nation. A confusing feeling of dread and pride creeps over me.

Wait. Was my dad a super villain?