by Gooz
A man walked down the street, wearing a light brown suit that showed off the light brown color around the pupil of his eyes. The sun was at its high point over the course of the day, and the busy streets of New York City were jumping. Vendors preached for customers, a line of cheap bottled water covering their real products of bootleg movies still in the theaters and Oakley sunglasses. Young boys attempted to jump the sidewalk on their skateboards and new inline skates, trying to show off in front of the neighboring girls. The man continued on his journey, moving quickly to his right to avoid a pizza delivery guy speeding by on a bike. There was a smile upon his face as he reached a tall metallic building upon which a simple sign read "MX Advertising Inc."
Okay, this is it. My chance to change, a new life.
He pulled open the main door, sweat on his hand causing it to slip a little bit, shutting right behind him with a small thud. He made his way to the front desk, the receptionist busy with the switchboard, not even noticing his presence.
"Um, excuse me... Miss?"
She continued looking directly at the board, answering calls.
"Ah, Miss, I have an appointment to see--"
"Have a seat, and I'll call you when Mr. Thorn is ready to see you." The receptionist still didn't look at the man, her eyes fixated on her work.
Twenty minutes passed before she finally signaled him with a slight hand gesture.
"Floor thirteen, office on the end of the hall."
She handed him a guest pass to clip on his shirt and returned to her business.
He entered one of the elevators and pressed the button for floor thirteen. A beep was heard as the door closed. The elevator reached the tenth floor when it stopped, and the door once again swung open. A beautiful woman entered and hit the button for the top floor. Her long, flowing black hair made her look almost like a goddess, which was reinforced by her mysterious purple eyes. The elevator started up again and stopped on floor thirteen. He nodded his head to the woman before exiting the elevator and entering a long hallway. Awards and plaques covered the walls, reinforcing the success of this company.
He paused for a second just before the door of Mr. Thorn's office and asked God for assistance in a whisper. After a few more seconds, he turned the knob and pushed the door open. The office was huge, with a glass window along the wall, showing off the city's beauty. Almost like a king's chamber in old times, with old fashion deco along the opposite walls. The desk was simple, yet efficient. The man behind the desk, Mr. Thorn, was a man in his early forties, confident, his hairline slowly receding, yet his smile drawing the view away from it.
The man stepped up to the desk and extended his hand.
"My name is Ritchie Stevens. I made the appointment for an interview for the job opening I read about."
"Ah yes, Richard. Your samples and portfolio were impressive."
"Thank you, sir. And it's just Ritchie, not Richard."
"Yeah, Rich. Just one thing, you didn't fill out the section on schooling. College, degree, et cetera."
"Oh, it's just that..."
Ritchie was at a loss for words, as his younger years were not what you would call normal. From sixteen years of age to just a little over a year ago, he was a full-time member of a metahero team known as the Seven Senses -- not a fact he would like to leak to the public. Also something that didn't leave much time for public schooling. Although he was taught by some of the world's best professors during his years on the team, it was not the kind of thing he was allowed to share in a resume.
"It's just, I can't really explain it."
"I'm very sorry, Mr. Stevens, but, without the information, I can't process your application for employment. Which does disappoint me, because your samples show such potential."
Once again, my past bites me in the ass! "Thank you for your time, sir."
Ritchie left, more disappointed than angry. The city streets were still jumping, but now his mood was different. He had to return home and tell his wife that once again he had missed a good chance, that his past had once again stopped him from moving forward. Although he had stayed in the Seven Senses out of duty for several months after he was married, his heart had not been in it. After their last major case in Antarctica in February, the team had simply imploded, and Ritchie couldn't have been happier about it at the time. It was supposed to give him a new start, but things had been difficult for him since then.
As he walked down the busy streets, he noticed someone behind him, watching him. His involvement with the Seven Senses had to do with the fact that he had powers that could warp the reality around him. In the next few moments, these would come into play. Ritchie turned and looked at the man, who quickly turned his head away. In the flash of an eye, Ritchie appeared directly in front of the man's face. The man was in a black suit, with matching sunglasses and an earpiece that blended in with his skin.
"Who are you? Who sent you?"
Ritchie's eyes were now glowing red, his fists clutched.
"Oh, sorry. Generator, your assistance is requested."
"Don't call me Generator. He doesn't exist anymore. I'm out, been so for a while."
"A very dangerous fugitive has been rumored to have entered New York. We have been trying to locate him and capture him for sometime. He is wanted in over twelve countries for crimes that are too serious for words."
"What does this have to do with me?"
"We can't handle him alone. Three weeks ago, he took out a whole complex, killed over a hundred men. It was very bloody and gory. Tapes showed that he enjoyed every minute of it."
"So why come to me? What about Disco Stave or some of the others who are still playing hero? I'm not getting into this!"
"Trust me, we tried to contact the others. Disco Stave is on a solo mission. The rest are unavailable. Plus, you are located here, where he is thought to be hiding... or plotting his next strike, whatever he is doing."
"No. I don't want to hear anymore. I'm out! How many times do I have to tell you guys that?"
"This is your responsibility. You have the power to stop him!" Ritchie began to walk away from the agent. "Any blood spilt will be on your hands! It will be your fault!"
Ritchie simply blocked out the man's words and began to walk toward his apartment. After about two hours of walking and thinking, he finally entered his apartment building. The place was old, run down and not in the best part of the city, but it was four walls and a roof overhead. Finally, Ritchie placed his key in the door and opened it. There she was across the room, long, flowing, light brown hair with very light brown eyes. As soon as his eyes met hers, everything was okay again. The pain from before had disappeared. She ran across the room and wrapped her arms around him, planting a kiss directly on his lips.
"Welcome home, honey. I had to work a little late, so I hope you don't mind -- I picked up pizza."
"Nah, every choice you make is perfect."
"Especially the one I'm looking at right now."
They kissed for a few more seconds before he walked across the room, throwing his jacket on the couch. He took a slice as she did the same. After a few moments, they finished and both began to clean up, laughing and splashing water on each other while doing the dishes. A few more moments passed, and Ritchie slumped himself on the couch, the painful truth from earlier in the day beginning to settle in.
"What's wrong?" She curled up on his lap, and he held her tightly in his arms.
"The interview -- it didn't go so well."
"I'm sorry. We knew we would be getting these obstacles in our way. Nothing is unbeatable. You'll find something."
"I don't know. This is the third one in the last few weeks. If I can't get something soon, we might not have the money to pay the apartment bills."
"I'll work double-time if I have to. Don't worry, we'll get through this." She gave him a soft kiss on the lips.
"I know, Marisa. It just hurts to know that I can't do anything right now, that my past is hurting both of us, holding us back. Holding you back from the life you deserve."
"As long as I'm with you, my life is perfect."
Ritchie held her tight in his arms as he shut off the lights. Holding her made all worry and pain simply cease to exist. While they were only twenty years of age, their love was a strong bond that held them both together. With it intact, nothing could hurt them. Nothing could harm them.