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‘Super Human’ part three

> Ashort story excerpt

Brittney MacDonald
Life & Style Editor

 

¢ A cual it might,” Anders chimes in.
“If it was the Arcana that wanted

Perill dead, and not just their attack

dog, Holt could have brought someone

else with him. The harpoon gun has

a one-time use, Peril] could have shot

who he thought was a bigger threat, but

then was killed by the accomplice.”

The way he speaks has me
suspicious that Anders has already
formulated another theory.

“You have someone in mind?” J ask,
cocking a brow at him as he nods gravely.
He waves a hand, beckoning me towards
the file room and the second body.

The file room seems almost peaceful
in contrast to the violence of the office.
Wall upon wall of floor-to-ceiling servers
storing an entire library of information
buzz harmoniously as blue and green
LEDs blink like tiny stars. Micheal Perill
was a well-funded and well-connected
man. I probably should feel worried that
I would have to be the one to break the
news that supers were responsible for
his death, but it is too quiet here. There
is an ease about the room, a residual
aura that leaves the mind numb. I know
I know the feeling from somewhere,
but when I try to remember my collar
prevents it, worsening the heady
sensation by adding its own torpid haze.

I try and shake it, approaching the
body that Anders already waits beside.
Even Perill’s death seems gentle compared
to the way we found Holt. He’s laid out flat
on his back, his arms folded over his chest.
His body is a little pale and stiff from rigor
mortis, but otherwise he looks like he had
lain down to take a nap. I crouch beside
him, my eyes scanning in silent inspection
as I take in his graying buzz cut, deflated
cheeks and sallow skin. He looks like a
man who may have been heavy at one
time but lost a lot of weight, his flesh

now hanging too loose on his bones.

Anders crouches down across from
me, looking over the body in much
the same way. “I was confused at first.
There’s no outward sign of trauma, so |
thought maybe a heart attack. But look
at the way he’s positioned, it’s too...”

He falls short, trying to think of a
word to describe the eeriness of it all.

“Not natural,” I finish, and he nods.

“Then I notice this...” he adds, latex
gloved fingers quickly pressing against
Perill’s eye lid. He opens it, revealing a
crimson sclera. “They’re both like that.”

I lean in for a closer look, feeling
my mouth go dry as I examine the vitae-
filled orb. “Every blood vessel has burst,”
I murmur and Anders nods once more,
as if I’m confirming a suspicion of his.

“Try and move his head,” he instructs,
and I know this is new territory. Anders is
a detective and is therefore only allowed
certain actions within his job title. I am
a Controller and take precedent over
the rules of leaving things as found
for forensics and the coroner, within
limitations of course. I am allowed
to take any measure to determine if
the crime is super human in nature,
and to find out what sorts of abilities
may have been used to commit it.

I reach out a hand, pulling Perill’s
head to the side and hearing something.
I forfeit my reserve and shake the
man’s cranium, now better able to
identify it’s something liquid inside.

“Tt sounds like a water bottle,”
Anders affirms, holding up a hand to
his mouth in attempt to hide his silent
gagging. | pretend not to notice. “You
don't think it’s his brain, do you?”

The very question catches me off
guard and I laugh. The complete absurdity
of it! “Someone came and liquefied his
brain? That’s a little too science fiction,
don't you think?” I chuckle, and it’s
enough to get a small grin from him and
make him forget about being sick. “No,

the brain’s still in there, I can feel the
weight of it. But it’s loose; the coroner
will probably find that it’s shrunk.”

“How?” he asks, canting
his head curiously.

“My guess is whatever pressure
that made the blood vessels in his eyes
burst, did the same to his brain. Several
consecutive aneurisms... it would explain
the sound. If they ruptured, his skull is
probably filled with blood, draining from
the brain and shrinking it slightly.”

I right Perill’s head the way I
had found it and rise, quickly pulling
off my gloves and bagging them for
the forensic team. There is nothing
more we need to see, and we both
know the answer to this riddle, but
we have to go through the motions.

“So, we're looking for someone
who could apply a lot of pressure,”
he begins as he switches on his own
gauntlet to record our findings.

“Telekinetic pressure, there’s no
external trauma. We're looking fora
powerful psychic,” I finish, knowing I’ve
confirmed Anders’ theory for him.

“Agreed. Detective Craig Anders
and Controller Dai Graydon, on this
day December 14 of 2077, conclude that
the assassination of Micheal Perill was
performed by one Levi Holt, also known
as Reaper, now deceased; and one Alyssa
Noir, also known as Tarot.” He clicks off
the feed, coding in the upload sequence
to put the recording on the Patron City
Police Department mainframe. A coroner
and forensics team will be here in a matter
of minutes to confirm our findings.

“Can you imagine the pain involved?”
he asks, and for a moment I’m unsure
what he’s talking about. I turn and find
him looking at Perill, unable to tell if
he feels sympathy for the man or not.

“Aneurisms are usually painless,” I
add, but know it’s a lie. Given whom this
man was, and what he was trying to do,
Tarot would have made it excruciating.

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a

One day

By Caroline Ho
Arts Editor

 

I’ve drawn up a list of the things I will be:
A poet, a lawyer, astar on TV,

A star-gazing astronomer PhD,

With buildings and boulevards

named after me.

I have so much to get done,

once I have the time:

I'll learn how to sail, how to

paint and rock climb,

lll start up a podcast or two on true crime,
And write chart-topping songs

with some exquisite rhymes.

I’m full of ideas I’m ready to share:
How to make this Earth greener,
more peaceful, more fair,

How to show everyone that

I’m here, that I care,

I promise myself that I'll make it, I swear.

I can’t wait to show the

world what I can do:

The skills that I'll master,

the fame I'll accrue,

The hearts I'll inspire, the
despair I'll eschew—

My dreams may sound wild, but

I'll make them come true.

I know that I’ve got this potential inside,
To reach all of my goals, step

by step, stride by stride,

To be able to claim my

achievements with pride,

I’m sure I could do it, if I only just tried.

lll start it all soon, I just
need a bit more—

More money, more energy,
more drive to explore,
More will to acknowledge
and not just ignore

That it’s only myself whom

I'm still waiting for.

 

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