An Aspie Tells Tales

  Light immediately returned to the interior of the bank by the time The Kineticist and Domino made sure all the bystanders had made it safely to the sidewalk. They heard sirens approach when once again a total blackness descended on the bank interior. Domino sensed a figure dash towards the back of the bank and immediately followed.

  "Guys? Someone is sneaking out the back way; want to bet its Night Ghost? Here, take my hands and we'll catch the creep.

  Bounce squeaked, "Hey! I'm stuck! Something is oozing up my legs and won't let me go.”

  "Yeah, me too!” K grunted as his struggled to no effect. “It’s moving too slowly for either of us to use our powers. Domino, you'll have to follow him by yourself, just stay out of any line of fire and report when he goes to ground.”

  “What about you guys? I can’t just leave you here.”

  Bounce shouted, “We’ll be fine. The police will be here any minute, now go!"

  Domino ran out the rear security-door. The outside was just as dark and black as had been the inside. She extended her senses and found a lone figure jogging North towards the Bay. Even the cars had stopped as no one dared to continue as the darkness swallowed up their headlights without as much as a dim glow.

  She followed at a steady pace for ten minutes and headed up the incline towards the head of the bridge proper. As she traveled across and over the water, the blackness ended in a knife-edge of normal light and allowing her to see Night Ghost base jump into the river. A small delta parachute opened from a backpack and allowed him to glide towards a waiting speedboat.

  As the boat revved away, Night Ghost turned and cheerfully waved, which released a torrent of vindictive thoughts in Domino’s head. The thoughts all abruptly stopped as a familiar voice floated from the center of the bridge.

  "Hello, Domino. Time to face that justice you are constantly spouting off about."

  Domino slowly walked towards her nemesis and took note of every detail in a way no normal human could. She wanted to scream in rage and fear as she saw her beloved husband, and their only child, lying strapped to a bare metal table.

  The young villain clutched a naked wire from an overhead power line spliced from atop the main bridge in one hand and laid the other on a stand-alone switch box grounded to the table.

  Domino was terrified but spoke in slow even tones.

  "What are you doing, Polarity, you know family is off limits. That is the one cardinal rule both sides have always agreed on. If you hurt them, every super-hero in the world will hunt you down, and not all of them believe in rehabilitation as I do!"

  "You should have thought of that before you killed my twin sister!"

  “I didn't kill her, you know that. She took her own life in prison."

  "You were the one that put her there! Did you know, the only time we were separated our whole life was the minutes between her birth and mine? And then to keep her in a Faraday cage, so she could never even experience her power? That was beyond cruel. You know, some super-heroes inspire fear, and some inspire anger, you used to just inspired irritation. You should never have made me choose between my life and her freedom."

  "You both could have simply chosen to turn yourselves in and would have received the therapy you both needed. It's not too late for you, even now. We can get you help, both for your underlying issues, and the horrible grief you must be going through."

  As Domino approached the table where her family lay, she saw her six-year-old boy was at least unconscious. Her husband Anthony was awake but strapped to the bare metal by his legs, arms, and head. A television monitor on top of the refrigerator-size junction box showed the scene at the stadium where there was panic as the hundred-thousand-plus crowd all tried to run away at the same time.. Above that scene, she saw the red eye of a broadcast camera pointed at her.

  "Choices! You are all about choices, aren't you Domino? Here's a choice for you. See that handle, the big red one? Flip it up, and the four hundred thousand volts from this power line will reroute into the river, saving your precious family and draining all my power and thereby killing me. And, of course, send a signal to detonate the dirty radiation bomb and dooming about fifty thousand of your ardent fans to a painful death. On the other hand, you can flip it down, routing the current through the table and into your nearest and dearest, disarming the bomb and saving the great unwashed. Incidentally, that also will drain all my power and kill me. As you can see, I don't have a horse in this race; my payoff is to watch you suffer before I rejoin my sister. And oh, you have one minute from...now!"

  An overlay clock on the screen mirrored the one attached to the bomb in the stadium. Domino walked around the table opposite from Polarity and willed a part of her mind to continue the conversation while she searched for a series of actions that might change the consequences given her. She had learned long ago that when an opponent gave you a choice between A and B, always choose C.

  "Just one thing Polarity, why would Night Ghost help you? I can understand the bank robberies since that what he does for a living, but how did you motivate him?"

  "Ah, like so many villains, it was simple greed. I willed him my entire fortune, including an extensive underground lair. I'm afraid he has a rather limited imagination and not really a worthy inheritor of our life's work, but what can one do? You have thirty seconds. If you don't choose, of course, everyone dies. Except you."

  The no-win situation turned Domino emotionally numb. She could not think and could not act. Her maternal instinct was the only one working as her hand began to reach for the switch. Her husband, in a low, paternally stern voice simply said, "No, Domino!"

  He knew, as devastating as his and their child’s deaths would be, she could never live with the memory of allowing so many others to lose their loved ones. Some think the ultimate sacrifice is to give up your life for another, but they're wrong. The ultimate is to give up your loved ones, no matter if the exchange rate is twenty-five thousand to one.

  As the countdown clock reached five seconds, Domino's powers of observation finally gave her a plan C. The choice was not perfect; it was horrible. She reached out and slammed the switch into the down position, instantly dropped to the ground and lifted the table up and over into the power cable in Polarity's hand. This created a feedback arc that kicked the villain twenty yards down the bridge like a faulty fuse.

  “Take care of our boy, Tony, I’ll join you soon as I can.”

  There was nothing left of her family but charred meat and smoke. Quick and painless. She walked purposely to where Polarity's unconscious but live body lay, and began slapping him back and forth, as her screams went from horror to rage to grief. She continued until his face was hamburger and her hand a rattling bag of broken bones. Every on-duty law enforcement officer arrived to pull her off and make sure her sacrifice would ensure Polarity reached the judge’s bench.

  ~o0o~

  The overwhelming sympathy, gratitude, and adoration of a city of three million were too much for a grieving widow to handle. But what do they call a parent whose child has died? Society doesn't even acknowledge their loss with a title, because it is a pain so severe, that no one wishes to acknowledge it. There was a word she called herself, though, and it certainly wasn’t “hero”. Domino discarded her uniform, along with her identity and a good part of her sanity, and disappeared into the West.

  ~One Year Later~

  Domino abruptly stopped before her hand pushed the poster-covered door that lead into the roadhouse. She wasn’t sure whether the vehicle that just dropped her off was a battered, dusty pickup or a new shiny Corvette. For some reason, that bothered her, especially since she could tell from the sound it was a beefed-up V-8 Chevy. She turned to look, but the setting sun made the retreating vehicle no more than a red smudge that seemed to levitate against the horizon. She also couldn't remember if she had spent the last three nights with the hardened Chief Petty Officer on shore leave, or the cute trucker waiting out a deadhead. For some reason, that did not bother her. br />
  All she did know was that she had reached the Left Coast after a year of drifting, which was reason enough to celebrate with a Tequila party. Tomorrow she would find a reason equally persuasive. That was about as far as her plans ever got. To fulfill this glorious future, she needed her last friend, Jackson, to invite a few of his buddies into her pocket. That goal easily sounded within reach as the harsh clunking sound of pool balls echoed throughout the room.

  She tended to shy away from biker bars, but the scooters parked outside were mostly Hondas, Yamahas and Kawasaki’s; wannabe pussies, to Domino’s mind. Not that she couldn't face down hardcore riders, but a lone cougar fighting a wolf pack usually got messy all around.

  "Well," she thought, "time to dance."

  She dug four quarters out of her battered leather jacket and plunked them on the corner of a pool table the furthest from the obvious Laird of this particular swampland. After a dozen sloppy shots, one of the current players dropped the eight, and the winner turned his gaze her way. His eyes swept over her firm, if scruffy, body.

  "You're up, sweetheart. I swing a pretty big stick. If, that is, you think you can handle it."

  His cue, at least, was large, 24 ounces, and deeply carved along the butt end. That meant, of course, that the light and delicate touch required for real control would always be beyond reach. That made him a "poke it, not stroke it" kind of player, and would not be a problem even without her special powers.

  As the challenger, Domino stuck the quarters into the slot, racked the balls, then chose the straightest piece of maple she could find, and the lightest. Her opponent sank the three on the opening break, and then missed, which was the last shot he got.

  "Sheee-it." he muttered as he went back to the counter and his beer.

  Given a sparkle in her eye and a genuine smile on her face, Domino would be considered pretty. At least in the sense that all women who retain their childhood innocence and playfulness are pretty, but smiles and innocence died along with her family. Also, the thin scar that ran from her left temple to the opposite corner of her mouth gave her a permanent sneer that shriveled the ego of even the most determined lothario.

  She held the table for two and a half hours and ran through the fairly decent players in short order. She avoided trick shots though and only made obvious shots without error. With no more takers, she grabbed a stool at the bar and ordered her first drink of the night.

  The barkeep, a blonde who was four years her junior but looked ten years older, slid the shot glass to stop in front of Domino and followed it over.

  "On the house. I haven't enjoyed watching the locals get their butts kicked like that in some time, and you being a chick; they can't do much about it!"

  "It was a good warm-up, but I'm looking for a little real action. Is the grease-ball in the corner as good as he thinks he is?"

  The blonde's lips snapped to a thin line as her eyes reduced to slits.

  "You don't want to go hustling Hammer. I don't know that you can't beat him, but if you do his posse won't let you get far before they get payback."

  "I can take care of myself. It’s payday, and I think my paycheck somehow got lost in his wallet. By the way, what's up with the kid in the back corner?"

  About an hour into her table run, she had noticed a scrawny boy who intently watched her play. He looked about nine years old but recently turned twelve, although no one living could vouch for that. At first, he looked elsewhere whenever she turned his way. He finally gave up the pretense and simply dipped his eyes beneath a ragged baseball cap that sported a half-loose Marauder's football patch in front.

  "Oh, that's just Snitch. He's kind of a fixture. We keep him around like a mascot because he doesn't seem to have anywhere to go, and the one time Children's Services tried to catch him, all hell broke loose."

  "I would think a snitch wouldn't last long on the streets!”

  "Oh, he's not a snitch, that's just something of a joke. You know, like a six foot, three-hundred-pound bruiser named "tiny". No one has ever heard him say a word, and even though he always seems to be hiding in a corner watching, everyone knows he's the last one who would punk you out. Hey, Snitch, here's a quarter, go tell Fred the Bud is fizzing!"

  "I thought you said he couldn't talk?"

  "I said no one’s ever heard him talk, but he'd make the perfect partner playing charades."

  Snitch deftly grabbed the tossed quarter from the air, looked around, and grabbed a Bud logo napkin off a table. He ran up the back stairs where a semi-permanent poker game took place. A minute later Fred came down, mumbling as to how he had to do everything around here so he might as well fire all his employees.

  The jukebox played mostly southern rock on and off through the evening but lay quietly for the half hour Domino nursed her drink. It came to life with a cheesy finger-snapping intro, and the entire bar suddenly went quiet as a new cover version of Mack the Knife started playing.

  Domino looked into the smeared and dusty collection of trade logo mirrors behind the bar and saw a thin, blue-eyed northern Italian punk walk towards "her" pool table. His black hair was greased back with imported violet-scented gel, and the rest of his style followed suit. He placed a stack of four quarters on the corner of the table and slid a folded twenty beneath them. He snapped his fingers and a lackey reverently handed him a sharkskin soft-sided cue holder from which he pulled a gleaming Balabushka stick.

  Domino looked at the bartender, and in a quiet whisper said, "Only a wealthy asshole would use a work of art like that in a place like this, and he don't look rich to me. Nice knock-off, though. Bet I could pawn it for a thousand bucks!"

  As she turned to get up, the bartender placed a gentle hand on Dominos shoulder and pleaded no with her eyes. Domino just shrugged her shoulders and tilted her head a bit as if to say, "What can a girl do?"

  She walked silently to the table and saw nine balls racked in a diamond pattern, which defined the game. Hammer looked at her with a studied lack of emotion and asked, "Can you handle a man's game?"

  "Depends if I can find a man around here."

  His demeanor didn't change as she replied, although his knuckles whitened as he gripped his cue harder than strictly necessary.

  Nine Ball, when played by even average players, is a fast-paced game. The contest between Domino and Hammer was brutal. Although she was careful to let Hammer win enough to keep his ego convinced he could eventually beat her, within the hour Domino was up two grand. They say you can't con an honest man, and conversely, a con makes the easiest mark. The same applies to hustlers. Domino picked up her latest winnings and started to leave. She handing the kid Snitch her pool stick along with a twenty-dollar tip, who had also been running her drinks. Hammer motioned at two of his underlings to intercept her at the door.

  "Not so fast, sweet meat. One last game, rotation to 61 points, double or nothing. Seeing as you have my money, I'll even let you break. Fred, you're holding.."

  Domino wasn't greedy, and so far relented using her power, but Hammer and his people were making it clear this wasn't a request. This was confirmed as all the other patrons decided to call it a night and left, the last two inebriated patrons forcibly.

  The barkeep nervously took the cash from each player, stacked the bills in the center of the bar, and placed a half-bottle of Patron on top. Snitch cowered behind the cigarette machine and watched with a frightened and concerned look on his face.

  "This is bullshit!” Domino muttered to herself, determined to finish this quickly. She decided to use her powers to their full and overawe everyone, then grab the money on the run before they knew what happened. It worked before, in worse conditions than this. She would make sure to grab the Patron too.

  Even through the warm haze of the night’s liquor, Domino sensed the relationship of each ball to the others and instinctually calculated the millimeter gaps in their racked formation. She noticed the one-half degree off-true slant of the far corner pocket and decided to show off. She
lined up on the cue with just the correct degree of bottom right English to drop the 15, 14, 13, 12, and 10 balls for 63 points and the win. Only, they didn't.

  The moment between when she struck the cue ball and the one started the targeted balls in their planned trajectory, a horrid pain explode between her eyes. It felt like chewing on a jawbreaker of tinfoil and was accompanied by a fuzzy double vision as the balls somehow oscillated and varied from their predestined course. The resulting chaos on the table did drop the six, but that was not the plan.

  Domino’s options were now limited, even considering her powers. She could either double-bank and carom the seven into the three and two, or just drop the four. Somewhat shakily, she decided to take the duck and drew back. Once again it felt like her skull was going through a vegetable grater. She missed, which just did not happen.

  Hammer strutted up and sank four shots for thirty-two points. Domino lined up an easy shot, but this time purposely only used her hard-won natural skills. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Snitch squeeze his eyes in concentration as her ball just missed the pocket. She focused her power and caught the strange oscillating effect centered around the kid. The effect dissipated as he relaxed and opened his eyes.

  While Hammer took his next turn, Domino grabbed her shot glass and sauntered over to Snitch. In a low voice, without looking directly at him, said, "I don't know how you're screwing with my shots, or why, but if you do it again I'll turn you over my knee and teach you some manners!"

  His eyes grew very round as he tried to shrink into the corner. He looked up in plea and pointed at her, lifted his index finger and pointed at Hammer, and hit his left palm with his right fist several times.

  "Don't worry about me; I have a few tricks to escape the big scary Hammer. So please, just let me finish the game so I can get out of here."

  Hammer finally missed which left only two points for the win. Domino focused her power, smiled at Snitch, then cleared the table with one shot. Hammer’s mouth dropped as he watched the four banks, two kisses, and a teetering cue ball that just stayed clear of the pocket. Domino immediately lunged for the cash, but Hammer was half a step ahead of her.