"To Be Chosen"

PARAGON

Part I

       There were, at least, a dozen ways he could have handled his current situation.  Paragon took in his surroundings; the city streets were strewn about with rubble, a graveyard of concrete and burning debris.  The block was mostly deserted save for a few people hiding in what was left of the surrounding buildings.  There was only Paragon on the street, clad in his uniform of white and silver with his long and regal cape billowing in the breeze.  Only Paragon, and the robot standing before him; a fifty foot tall metal monstrosity with glowing green eyes that surged with the promise of death.

Yet it was not the pulsing death rays that were the real danger.  Paragon focused his vision and looked beyond his immediate foe to the roof of a building a mile away, where a rail thin man with a worn and craggy face stood.  The man’s right arm was clenched like a vice around a woman, holding her to him while in his right hand he held what appeared to be a small silver detonator.  In his left hand was a gun, pressed hard to the woman’s temple.  The man’s body shook uncontrollably, and Paragon saw a wildness in his eyes; but whether it was excitement, fear or madness the hero could not tell.

Paragon’s array of powers did not include a super awareness.  In matters of the mind, he was like any ordinary human being.  He could only divide his attention among so many things.  His gifts were purely physical abilities: flight, invulnerability, super strength, super hearing and telescopic vision: that he gained by being a child of a distant sun.  It was not the Earth’s sun that he hailed from, but Earth’s sun nourished him nonetheless.  Like an old aunt, who always has plenty of leftovers to warm up for a quick and bounteous dinner.  

He tried to focus on the one hostage being held by the madman on the roof.  He thought about the detonator in the villain’s hand.  Was there a bomb inside the robot?  Inside one of the buildings?  Or even worse, inside all of the buildings?  His focus quickly shifted to the frightened people still huddled nearby.  All the while, the robotic giant lifted its foot and brought it crashing down upon the hero.  There was a dim awareness of the rush of wind, the encroaching dark, and then the loud rumble of steel meeting pavement.  The ground shook, dust rose and settled, and all was still.  

The robot’s eyes flashed with the preparation of another assault on the surrounding city.  Some bystanders who had been outside began to run in a panic, foolishly believing they could escape the all encompassing field of the death rays.  Screams were heard from yet more people trapped on rooftops, with no hope even of such a foolish escape.  And then, once again, the ground shook.

From the debris of the fallen, a whirlwind of white and silver shot out.  Paragon stood, finding himself underneath the monster that had tried to crush him.  He rocketed himself upward, zig-zagging between the metal pillars that were the robot’s legs and continued to rise until he hovered, just ten feet away, from the face of his metal enemy.  The robot, in registry of what had happened, cycled up another death ray.  As its eyes pulsed, Paragon flew forward to meet his enemy’s deathly gaze.  The robot fired, Paragon accelerated,  and titans collided in a shower of fire and metal.  The robot fell backward from the momentum of the blow, and Paragon hovered holding a glowing green stone in his right hand.  As the metal monster’s body hit the earth, Paragon squeezed, crushing the stone to dust – and the brains of the machine were sprinkled on its remains.

With the pawn down, it was time for Paragon to face its king.  Without delay, he flew forward toward the rooftop where the rail thin man was waiting.  There were, at least, a dozen ways he’d be able to handle the situation.  With strength, with speed, so many ways.  Yet as Paragon approached the roof, and saw the rail thin man and his prisoner – the fear in both their eyes – he landed softly before his enemy.  He turned his gaze on them both, vindication heavy in his stare.  The woman stared back, a sense of sorrow in the way she looked at him.  The rail thin man pressed his gun hard to the woman’s temple.  From then on, Paragon’s gaze was fixed only on his enemy.