thumb and slowly pushed.
He cursed when the skin broke and a line of blood surfaced. “Dammit, that hurts,” he said and wiped his thumb against the leg of his jeans. When next he examined his thumb, the thin line of blood began to coagulate and, thirty seconds later, the cut completely vanished. With his heart pounding right through his shirt, Daniel cut into the palm of his hand and watched as he infringed on the laws of nature once again.
“That’s not possible,” he said, his breath held.
Afterward, he lay in bed for a long time, unable to shut his mind off long enough to fall asleep as a whole world of possibilities opened up before his eyes. With the ability to heal rapidly, he could push the limits; he could run into burning buildings, fight an armed assailant, jump from a great height. For one wild moment, he wondered if he could also survive being shot, but quickly dismissed the ludicrous thought. He was no Superman, after all.
* * * * *
Clad in his dark uniform, Daniel prowled around the dark corners of lower Manhattan. Even though he was alert, he couldn’t help but think of Olivia grinding her hips into his. He was defenseless, he understood that now. Olivia’s power over him was too great, her grip on his mind already too tight. He just hoped his heart could heal at all when she inevitably left him for someone better. He was not an oblivious fool; he could clearly see that she was in a whole different league, as though they’re not even the same species, and never ever do you see an angelfish fraternizing with a moray eel.
He was still walking around in a sour mood, daring any unfortunate criminal to cross his path, when he encountered a man and a woman arguing underneath a street lamp. The woman glanced his way with a look of alarm, and a second later, the man grabbed her by the shoulders and began to shake her violently.
“Let me go!” she cried out, her head lolling around.
“Give me my money, bitch!” He extended an arm and landed an open-palmed slap on her face.
Daniel’s nose flared. He had seen many things in New York, had witnessed many depraved acts of violence in the few months he’d lived there, and though he was not naïve enough to think that all victims were blameless, he could not stand idly by and watch a man beating on a woman. His adopted parents had made sure of that.
With thoughts of Olivia lingering in the back of his mind, he pulled the balaclava over his face and sprinted to the couple. He grabbed the man’s wrist just as he was raising it to strike the woman again. “Don’t!” he warned.
The man turned to Daniel, his angular face illuminated by the streetlamp as a menacing smile spread on his face. “You are so predictable,” he said and disappeared.
Daniel’s fist closed around air and he stumbled back, looking at the woman for answers. “What the…”
“You’d better catch him,” she said with a small smile before the man reappeared with a sharp pop ten yards away.
The man pointed at Daniel and beckoned him closer with a curled finger. “Come get me, Black Hero.”
Alarm bells rang in the back of Daniel’s head but he chose to ignore the voice that told him something was not quite right. He gave chase, intent on capturing the man and asking him about his ability to teleport. Just as Daniel reached the man, he disappeared again, and a second later, materialized down the street with another pop.
“Will you just stop?” Daniel shouted in exasperation and ran once more.
A wild chase ensued, the man popping in and out of view and Daniel feeling like he was playing an abnormal game of tag, and continued into a dark, derelict building filled with towering rows of rusting shipping crates.
The inner alarm bells rang once more, screaming “Trap! Trap! Trap!” but again, Daniel chose to forsake the voice of reason to satisfy his curiosity. He was strong, fast and healed rapidly; what was the worst that could happen to him?
Just when Daniel
He cursed when the skin broke and a line of blood surfaced. “Dammit, that hurts,” he said and wiped his thumb against the leg of his jeans. When next he examined his thumb, the thin line of blood began to coagulate and, thirty seconds later, the cut completely vanished. With his heart pounding right through his shirt, Daniel cut into the palm of his hand and watched as he infringed on the laws of nature once again.
“That’s not possible,” he said, his breath held.
Afterward, he lay in bed for a long time, unable to shut his mind off long enough to fall asleep as a whole world of possibilities opened up before his eyes. With the ability to heal rapidly, he could push the limits; he could run into burning buildings, fight an armed assailant, jump from a great height. For one wild moment, he wondered if he could also survive being shot, but quickly dismissed the ludicrous thought. He was no Superman, after all.
* * * * *
Clad in his dark uniform, Daniel prowled around the dark corners of lower Manhattan. Even though he was alert, he couldn’t help but think of Olivia grinding her hips into his. He was defenseless, he understood that now. Olivia’s power over him was too great, her grip on his mind already too tight. He just hoped his heart could heal at all when she inevitably left him for someone better. He was not an oblivious fool; he could clearly see that she was in a whole different league, as though they’re not even the same species, and never ever do you see an angelfish fraternizing with a moray eel.
He was still walking around in a sour mood, daring any unfortunate criminal to cross his path, when he encountered a man and a woman arguing underneath a street lamp. The woman glanced his way with a look of alarm, and a second later, the man grabbed her by the shoulders and began to shake her violently.
“Let me go!” she cried out, her head lolling around.
“Give me my money, bitch!” He extended an arm and landed an open-palmed slap on her face.
Daniel’s nose flared. He had seen many things in New York, had witnessed many depraved acts of violence in the few months he’d lived there, and though he was not naïve enough to think that all victims were blameless, he could not stand idly by and watch a man beating on a woman. His adopted parents had made sure of that.
With thoughts of Olivia lingering in the back of his mind, he pulled the balaclava over his face and sprinted to the couple. He grabbed the man’s wrist just as he was raising it to strike the woman again. “Don’t!” he warned.
The man turned to Daniel, his angular face illuminated by the streetlamp as a menacing smile spread on his face. “You are so predictable,” he said and disappeared.
Daniel’s fist closed around air and he stumbled back, looking at the woman for answers. “What the…”
“You’d better catch him,” she said with a small smile before the man reappeared with a sharp pop ten yards away.
The man pointed at Daniel and beckoned him closer with a curled finger. “Come get me, Black Hero.”
Alarm bells rang in the back of Daniel’s head but he chose to ignore the voice that told him something was not quite right. He gave chase, intent on capturing the man and asking him about his ability to teleport. Just as Daniel reached the man, he disappeared again, and a second later, materialized down the street with another pop.
“Will you just stop?” Daniel shouted in exasperation and ran once more.
A wild chase ensued, the man popping in and out of view and Daniel feeling like he was playing an abnormal game of tag, and continued into a dark, derelict building filled with towering rows of rusting shipping crates.
The inner alarm bells rang once more, screaming “Trap! Trap! Trap!” but again, Daniel chose to forsake the voice of reason to satisfy his curiosity. He was strong, fast and healed rapidly; what was the worst that could happen to him?
Just when Daniel
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