Balancers

Years ago, I wrote a short-lived comic book called Stealth Squad (we had 3 issues published and distributed nationally.) The comic originated with the artist, my friend Philip C. Lane, who came up with some of the core characters and then asked me to flesh out the concept. It was a fun time...I'm a long-time comic book fan and having my own super-hero team to play with was cool.

After we stopped putting out the comic I continued to work on the backstory that I came up for the comic's "universe". Eventually I scrapped most of the super-hero trappings and used some supporting characters that I created to tell a different kind of story in a novel called Lives in the Balance.

While finishing that novel, I went back to source material with an eye towards creating a series of short stories to tell the comic book story we didn't get to continue. The series, which was going to be called Balancers, was going to tell the story of the world changed by the sudden appearance of people with superhuman abilities. This is, of course, the basic idea of the hit TV show Heroes...hey, it wasn't an original idea when I came up with my story either :-)

I only finished the first story before moving on to other projects...one day I may go back to it (I do love the characters and I have a wealth of background material created for this universe") but for now this is the first chapter of Balancers:

BALANCERS

(featuring some characters and concepts created by Michael K. Willis & Philip C. Lane for Petra Comics)
(c)1999, 2007 Neverending Rainbow Enterprises and Petra Comics

Part 1: “The End of the World as We Know It”

The world changed utterly in a flash of light and a clap of thunder. This event was witnessed by none save a small handful of people working in a secluded complex in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado. All but two of those people died in the explosion that sundered the night and reduced the complex to strangely glowing rubble.

The two survivors…battered, bruised, and glowing golden in the crisp night air…struggled to their feet looking around at what they had wrought.

The man who looked older…Dr. Robert McKinley…felt tears well up in his eyes as he glanced in horror at the ruins of his dream, of his life. The complex was borne of his blood, sweat, intelligence, and hubris. The Laboratories of McKinley and Associates had been his pride and joy, the crucible in which his honor and glories were to flow. And now it was dust and ashes.

McKinley looked for other signs of life and one name came to his lips. “Maria?” He said forlornly. He had felt drawn to Maria, his brightest and most loyal young associate, in the past several months. But the pull of his work…and the bitter taste of rare defeat that had lingered since his wife had left him for some idiot accountant who “paid attention to her”…had led him to postpone giving voice to his growing feelings.

“Maria!” He called more urgently, mocking echoes of his plaintive cry filling the air.

The man who was indeed older…a man who called himself Anthony Reade…regarded McKinley with a measure of pity and an empathy he was loathe to give free reign to. Life was so short for them, he thought idly, and then he bent down to the prone body of the woman Maria. Reade had noted the unspoken attraction between McKinley and Maria…he had found it encouraging that the voluptuous curves of the raven-haired beauty had not been lost on his otherwise myopic associate. “She is here,” Reade said somberly.

McKinley, his clothes in jagged tatters, stumbled across the rubble as Reade cleared the broken mortar, wood, and bricks off Maria’s lifeless body. He knelt beside her, his mouth agape and mute, his eyes filled with tears. He took her into his arms and hugged her close. “…no…” he said, finding his voice. “She’s dead…”

Reade stood up, his dark eyes filled with tears of their own despite his best efforts to maintain his composure. He put his hand on McKinley’s shoulder and held it there while McKinley’s body convulsed with silent sobbing.

Reade looked around at the rubble…at the slowly dissipating glow that surrounded them and the ruins of the lab…and then he looked up into the night sky. “They’re all dead,” he said softly. He cursed himself for a fool and felt cold dread seize his heart as he contemplated the possible results of his actions. “They’re all dead,” he repeated with a gravity that made it certain that he wasn’t just talking about Maria and the others who had worked with them in the lab.

Reade stopped and listened intently. The insistent wail of sirens let him know that the explosion had indeed been noticed despite their remote location. The authorities were coming with their questions and their accusations and their inability to comprehend the magnitude of the crisis that had just been created. Indeed the magnitude of that crisis was only just beginning to sink him with Reade himself.

Reade shook off his dread and replaced it with a growing resolve to undo what they had done. If they could. To do that in a timely fashion, he knew that he had no time for bureaucracy…he had more time than he deserved but the rest of humankind did not.

Reade shook McKinley’s shoulder. “The authorities are coming, Robert,” he said urgently. “We have to go.”

McKinley, still consumed by his grief, looked up with uncomprehending eyes. Then he shook off Reade’s hand with an angry shrug. “I’m not going anywhere,” he sobbed. “Maria’s dead…everybody’s dead….it’s all my fault…”

Reade, knowing they had precious little time to wallow in grief or debate, lifted McKinley to his feet with surprising ease. “We don’t have time for this!” he said sharply.

McKinley, again startled by his associate’s remarkable physical abilities, was stunned into silence for a moment. Then he slapped away Reade’s arm. “We have all the time in the world, Reade!” he wailed angrily. “It’s dead…the dream is dead…all these bright young people are dead…everything’s dead!”

Reade narrowed his right eye and shook his head. “That statement may be more true than you know and we are the only ones who can do something about it.”

McKinley frowned quizzically but then put any questions he had aside and turned away. “Go away, Anthony,” he said looking down at Maria’s body, “it’s over.”

Reade reached his hand out and touched the back of McKinley’s head. Reade concentrated silently for an instant and McKinley stiffened, his eyes going blank, and slumped backwards.

Reade hefted McKinley effortlessly, cradling him in his arms. “No, my friend,” he muttered, “it is not over. Somebody has to save the world and since we’re the ones who put it in danger, we’re the ones elected to fix things.”

Reade walked off towards the nearby woods carrying McKinley’s comatose form. He glanced back at the bodies in the rubble and sighed heavily. “We have to make it right,” he said resolutely. He walked into the darkness of the forest as the sirens drew closer to the ruins of the laboratory. We will make it right, he thought, we have to. Then he drew his perceptions inside and searched for the One Thousand. The Balance is ever, he chanted to himself earnestly, the Balance is all.