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A man stood calmly in front of him, radiating confidence. He appeared to be waiting for something, but his almost-black eyes didn’t tell Stephen anything. No words came to mind.
Not wanting to take his eyes off the man, Stephen could see in his peripheral vision that he was in a fairly large room with windows that stretched from ceiling to counter. He could see at his feet loose paper and canvases scattered around the room haphazardly. The place looked dirty with pant splatters and smudges colorfully dotting the room, at least as far as he could see in his peripheral. Stephen believed he was still in New York but not knowing anything different. Light from the dark city fell into the room. He saw behind the man in the back of the room a strange Trump-like statute on the counter in the back and a giant head of Brian Williams painted on the wall stood above them. A bit creepy, but he didn’t hold any qualms.
His next realization was that he was wearing a suit, barefoot, and that he couldn’t hear anything. He felt numb but it still didn’t bother him.
He asked the stranger in front of him a question but didn’t hear his voice and then after a minute he couldn’t remember what he’d asked, only that he had. The man in front of him remained the same, blinking slowly, calmly. Then his lips moved but again, Stephen couldn’t hear anything. It was strange but he didn’t feel scared or even excited.
That changed though, when the man sort of hunkered down, drawing his shoulders up to his neck, and scrunching up his face. Teeth gritted together, face turning red from concentration. Stephen could hear the sound now of breaking glass. The windows in the back of the room shattered, sending shards toward them in a wave.
The man was still concentrating, eyes closed, and Stephen started to fell a prickle of fear, or the numbing prickles of his blood returning to his limbs. His glasses suddenly cracked and he quickly pulled them off. They shattered in his hand and he felt tiny shards explode, cutting his skin.
Then it suddenly stopped. Glass was frozen in the air and the man still sat hunkered down and red. Stephen looked around. Amazingly, he could see quite clearly without his glasses. The glass stayed frozen in midair, glittering as he moved his head.
The guy looked familiar, like the Peter Petrelli character from Heroes. He moved to touch one of the larger pieces of glass in front of him and as he touched it, it seemed to morph into a mirror-like surface. He could see a blurry reflection of himself looking back sans glasses. He felt, more than saw, movement behind him.
He turned and ducked instinctively. An arm swung above him, where his head had been. He jumped up and tackled the man to the ground. Hair fell into his eyes as he sat on the man’s chest, hands restraining the struggling arms. Nearby, he heard the floor creak and suddenly split apart and a section of a metal beam spiked up out of the crevasse. He didn’t know how but he only had to look at the beam and it broke off sliding across the floor towards him. He released an arm to protect his own face. Once he was sure there hadn’t been any impact, he opened his eyes. The beam was floating in front of him liked he’d used Wingardium leviosa. He grabbed the beam and it settled into his hands. It was unexpectedly light.
The beam started to change, becoming a spear-like object. Stephen sprang off his momentarily confused opponent and in doing so he found himself sitting up in bed, wide awake. He was breathing hard, sweat beads dripping off his forehead, hair still in his eyes.
“I’m on the list!” he said excitedly to himself, but the man next to him only grumbled.
“I’m getting rid of your season pass to that show.” Keith complained, too tired for anything more than tugging Stephen back down to the bed. He grabbed the covers from around Stephen’s waist, drew them up to their shoulders. He pushed Stephen onto his side and wrapped his arms around the other man’s front. He gripped Stephen tightly, “Don’t kick me this time.”
“I bet I’m the key to beating Sylar, not the chameleon…”
Keith blew into his ear, making Stephen squeal and squirm in the other man’s grip.
“What’d I say about kicking?”
---
“What are you doing?” Jon asked, a forkful of pasta halfway to his mouth.
“Research.” Stephen said distractedly, clicking the mouse around on Jon’s laptop.
“Breaking news?”
“Not that kind.” Stephen kept his eyes on the screen.
“What than?”
“Oh, just saving the world stuff.”
“Hope that works out.” Jon just returned to his lunch.
Stephen laughed. “You know, sword-welding liberals against the orc-ish politicians. Does water beat fire? Or do they cancel out?” Stephen paused taking that into consideration.
“I’m not sure I follow.” Jon looked puzzled.
Stephen straightened up, almost vibrating. “Oh!” he giggled in a fan-ish way “I haven’t told you my dream yet! How could I have forgotten?”
“Oh your Justice League dream again?” Jon didn’t sound particularly interested.
“No!” Stephen continued as if Jon were as enthusiastic about the topic as he was. “I was on the list! A Hero! Think about it! How cool is that! I could manipulate earth-like things. At least that’s what I think my power was. Metals and sand and stuff.”
“That’s what you’re looking up?”
“Do you think I’m the missing sixth member of the sailor scouts? You’d think I’d be fire! I’ve got all the rage for that!” Stephen said fist clenched looking up at the ceiling, pondering for a moment and then returned to the computer.
“I don’t know.” Jon said, appearing to be giving the idea serious consideration.
Before Stephen left for his own office, Jon stopped him, grabbing one of his arms. “Maybe you’re Earth because you’re the rock people turn to and can count on.” Jon said softly thinking back to his own family issues and how Stephen had been there every time he needed him. Stephen just shrugged.
“You’re just saying that because you don’t want to recycle anymore.” Stephen smiled cheekily half way through the door.
Jon smiled too, letting go. “See you later, Kwame.”
“Aye-aye Captain Planet!” Stephen saluted and giggled as he left. Out in the hall he let a goofy little smile break out.
Fire would be a good one for Keith, he thought. Or wind and maybe water for Jon. Anderson could be heart…
A segment started to form in his head.