Super Crush (BxB)

Super Success

I take in the chill air of the night and look out at the glow of the buildings. This calmness that settles over me when I am up here is like a smoker lighting up his first one the moment he gets to his car after work. The rooftop is where I knew I needed to go. I had to walk away from Dad's videos for a moment to do a hard restart. The next three entries I fast-forwarded through ended in the same manner as the first entry with Agent E.

I replay the different agents in my head. Agent G developed laser vision. Agent J turned invisible. Agent M's body covered itself in ice. But did blaster eyes, ghosting, and freezer skin save them from the hypovolemic shock of losing too much blood? Nope. In every case, hemorrhaging brought on by the side effects of the experiment led to cardiac arrest and, inevitably, death.

I close my eyes and try to shake the visions from my mind, yet I know I have to go back in and watch more of the entries. It is clear that Cloud 10, I mean Heroizon, will work at some point in my father's video notes. Right?

I head back to the stairs now knowing I have to see my dad succeed in creating a powerful and life-altering illicit drug. There has to be a subject that is successful, dammit. I don't even have time to dissect the years of therapy I will need just for thinking this.

-SEPT 10- A curveball is thrown when I start the next video entry, though. Instead of Dad ushering in another agent, he has his back to the camera, engaging in what seems to be an argument about something with someone out of the picture. Their words are heated but barely audible. My father side-steps and turns more toward the camera. Ever so quickly, his eyes dart to to me and back. This makes me think he wants this conversation to be recorded.

On the fringe of the screen, his debate partner can be seen. I can only see half of her face, but I am certain as to who it is. Matriarch. It is even more clear now that Dad has baited her into being on his camera. She is speaking to him as if she doesn't know, or maybe doesn't care, that she is being videoed.

"You call yourself a scientist! We have already lost four of our best candidates," Matriarch growls. "If you can't get the Heroizon Project up and going, I am pulling the plug."

He points a finger at her. That's ridiculous, Helen.

I am equally intrigued in seeing my Dad buck up to Matriarch–THE Matriarch–as I am to hear that her secret identity is something as fitting as Helen.

This is unknown territory. We are doing everything in our power to get it right. And I, more than anyone else here, am the most heartbroken about these failures. These are the men and women I have come to know through training and observation. Their sacrifices weigh on MY shoulders.

The room goes silent. The raw emotion in my dad's statement catches Matriarch off guard. Her body language shifts.

"David," she pauses. "You are right. This is a new and grand undertaking. Sadly, I have to be the voice of reason because the stakeholders are breathing down my neck to see results."

I understand. We just haven't gotten it right yet.

"Well let's hope you get a stroke of luck soon."

Dad clasps his hands together like a single clap. It seems Matriarch's words have aided in some realization.

You are right. We need some luck.

He looks over at the camera and pumps his eyebrows.

A laugh sneaks out of me. Dad, you are such a weirdo.

This change in Dad's demeanor seems to catch Matriarch off guard. Without pushback, he escorts her out of the room, but the last bits of their conversation are too quiet to comprehend. Then, with a giddy bounce in his step, my father comes back to the camera with an aggressively large smile on his face, and the feed goes to black.