#hewwo would u like superheroes and girlfriends and supervillains and grieving and the (not) end of the world

[equalseleventhirds]

oh would u all like another bit i wrote for creative writing homework? the assignment was 'write a nonlinear/fragmented narrative' and i had a blast with it.

(currently entitled 'One last chance to be a hero' bcos on god am i bad at titles)

- - -

      In spite of everything, the world does not end. It's touch and go for a little while, no one really sure if the heroes will succeed—but they do. They battle against the strange forces threatening the world; they push back the encroaching destruction; and they die noble, meaningful deaths.

      They save the world. Everyone else has to live in it.

- - -

      The day before the end of the world (projected), the hero Peregrine watches TV with her girlfriend, both of them snuggled up on their old green couch. They're so lucky, really, to live somewhere broadcasts can still get through. So lucky to have this together.

      "Why do you have to go?" her girlfriend whispers against her shoulder.

      "The whole world, Laine." Their argument is too well-worn to be angry, familiar words spoken in a ritual of love, of misery. "We have to."

      "But why do you have to go, Beckett?"

      "Because I'm a hero. I have to be a hero. Even if this is my last chance." A smile, a hand through her beloved's hair. "Promise to wait for me?"

- - -

      The world is saved, but it is strange. The ground warps and reshapes itself. The ocean rises in endless storms.

      Humanity survives, as best they can, as humanity always has.

- - -

      In conference rooms around the world, men in suits hem and haw over stopping the world from ending. But the expense, is the refrain. Think about the economy. If we spend it all now, how can we help the survivors later?

      It is determined that the resources of the men in suits are too valuable to use now. They lock them away underground, in the reinforced rooms the men will hide in themselves. Nowhere safer.

- - -

      "Sorry to ask you to help out again," the clinic doctor says. "I don't know why these machines keep acting up, but they seem to behave themselves with you."

      Laine smiles. She's good at smiling, even if she can never manage a laugh anymore. "I've always liked electronics," she says.

      The doctor holds the door open for her. "And we're lucky to have you around. God knows the government offices would love to snatch you up instead, the knack you've got for tech."

      "Oh, I'd really rather..." She stops in the doorway—just for a second—until she can breathe again. It's been months, now, but she's still not used to seeing her old couch in the clinic.

      (Their old couch. When the community association had come around asking for donations, she couldn't wait to give it away, as though it would take all her memories with it. When they showed up with a pickup truck, she stood outside and watched until she could no longer see the green of it in the distance.)

      "...not," she finishes. "Can't imagine working for the government, honestly."

- - -

      The night before the end of the world (projected), the supervillain Technobabbler robs a bank. It's not her usual MO, no high-tech target, no flashy robotics, practically sloppy. Peregrine stops her before she even opens the vault.

      "Was there a point to this?" the hero asks, her voice weary as she leans against the vault door. "Or just one more piece of trouble before I go and try to save the world?"

      Technobabbler's entire face is covered in a mask, opaque lenses over her eyes, voice modified until not an ounce of human emotion seeps through. Her shoulders are tense.

      "Or you don't go," she says.

      When Peregrine is silent, the villain continues, words falling out in a mechanical rush. "If you go—if you don't come back—I'll rob a bank every day. I'll kidnap government officials. I'll—I'll turn people into androids. No one will be there to stop me."

      "I hope," Peregrine says slowly, "you'll stop yourself."

      "I'm a villain."

      "You don't have to be." She pushes off the door and takes a step forward, watches Technobabbler stumble back. Holds out a hand. "Come with us. Help us, and I'll put in a good word for you. It's never too late to change."

      It feels like hours that she stares at that hand.

      "I can't," she says at last. "I made a promise."

- - -

      When the storms make land, the ramshackle community center floods. The clinic, especially, asks for help: beds for their patients, food and transportation for their doctors, dry storage space for their remaining equipment. Laine finds herself called for at midnight, frantically swapping out soaked and faulty wiring for nearly-new parts she hopes will fix everything.

      It's dawn when she starts making her way home. The frigid, muddy water swirling through the streets and flooding her boots looks almost beautiful, shimmering with the first rose-gold rays of sunrise.

      Its eddies catch and twist around something musty and green, just barely poking out of the water.

- - -

      The day the world is expected to end, Laine nudges broadcast towers in her direction, strengthens the receptors in the television. She will watch this. She has to watch this.

      The news crews grab as many interviews as they can—pre-fight interviews, they say, avoiding final, avoiding memoriam. Beckett shines in her Peregrine suit. She always has.

      The cameras can't follow the heroes all the way, can only show the battle from a distance. It's too dangerous, could interfere with the fight. More importantly, cameras stop working if they get too close. Laine wonders if she could have made the cameras work, if she'd gone. If Technobabbler had chosen the heroes' side, in the end. Probably she would have had more important things to do.

      She sits on the green couch for hours, alone, and watches her own world end.

- - -

      Most of the conference rooms have been destroyed, and the suits are shabbier now, too. But the men still hem and haw just the same when people come to them for help rebuilding and resupplying. That hardly seems fair, they bluster. Why didn't you simply preserve your resources like we did? If we help you now, how will you help yourselves?

- - -

      Technobabbler does not rob a bank every day. She does not kidnap government officials, or turn people into androids.

- - -

      Underground, in their reinforced rooms, with their hoards of resources, the men smile. We did well, they tell each other. This is what we are meant for. The world needs us, just like this.

      They don't notice the controls of their high-tech security systems start to move.

- - -

      "An anonymous donation," the clinic doctor tells Laine, beaming. "We'll be able to ride this one out, rebuild, maybe even set up a backup location."

            Laine smiles, and it feels like it could be a laugh.

#hewwo would u like superheroes and girlfriends and supervillains and grieving and the (not) end of the world #also some capitalism-is-the-real-evil #i had a fun time on this and considering also doing a similar nonlinear structure for my final project #now if only i had. an idea. lmao. #algie writes things