Revitalized

I’ve gotten used to dodging when shit starts flying. My reflexes aren’t as good as Augusto’s, of course, but I consider them above average. They kinda have to be when your big brother has spent most of his life getting himself into trouble with his superpowers. After years of being swept up in mini-tornadoes I’ve learned how to get the hell out of the way in a real hurry.

Fine, I won’t call Gus’ bullshit “trouble.” What sounds better to you? White knighting? Heroics? Vigilantism? It sure feels like trouble though – especially when it’s always my damn bar getting destroyed in the process. I thought having a bar in the popular district of the city would outweigh any downsides. Turns out, that was the downside.

So anyway, a couple months back I found myself ducking underneath my counter for probably the twentieth time in the last year. I could hear my patrons screaming in terror as they scrambled out. Some would be back. Some wouldn’t. A woman went flying into the shelves behind the counter, glass and liquor goes everywhere. She picked herself up - didn’t even notice me there on the floor - and started shooting lightning from her palms at someone on the other side of the bar.

I stopped a leaking bottle of vodka as it rolled toward me and tried to protect what little it still had. The woman jumped over the bar and out of sight and I heard something crash. So at that point, I was just like “Fuck it” but damn, I was mad as hell. I pulled a glass from the nearby shelf and poured the remaining vodka into it. As I sipped, I began emailing my insurance company from my phone. I was like, “Might as well get this process started.”

This whole neighborhood kept getting fucked up. That strip of stores at the corner, where the bridal shop and a Starbucks is? Used to be upscale condos. They didn’t last long. Some of the other shops reinforced their places and everything, but hell, my bar wasn’t making that much of a killing - no pun intended - at that time. I barely made enough for regular expenses, and when I’d be able to save enough the place would have been blown up at least twice more.

Sure you don’t want another beer? Ah, you’re a lightweight, huh? Suit yourself.

Anyway, a few of us business owners tried to think of some ways to protect our property, patrons and staff. Yeah, we’d tried legal action but the most we got was some payouts. They were decent, not gonna lie - but they went right into repairs the next time two idiots got pissy with each other. So it was a vicious cycle, you know? We wanted something lasting. City council wouldn’t ban them from this area because “they’re protecting the city as a whole” and “you wouldn’t ban cops, would you?”

Actually, I would if they kept fucking up my business like that.

I even tried talking to my brother as one of my last options. Augusto just laughed like he always does when I try to talk about something serious and mocked me. So fuck him too, frankly.

Look, I’ve always held resentment toward my brother. Not only is he older, poised, intelligent and good looking, he had gifts unimaginable to most of us mere mortals. Me on the other hand? No powers at all, gay, rebellious, nerdy kid. Our parents try to pretend that they don’t have a favorite but…come on now. I think coming out was the last straw. They say they don’t mind, that they love me no matter what, but I can tell they’re disappointed. If I even had a single power I bet that would outweigh it. I bet you. Even if it was just like, melodic flatulence. But I’m an afterthought.

Sorry. Touchy subject.

I’ve thought about leaving the city but every time I get serious about it I get cold feet. Everything I’ve ever known is here and I don’t handle change well. All my friends, lovers, colleagues and connections are here. Trying to rebuild everything I already have here would be like trying to rebuild my bar with my feet and toothpicks. I had one last option.

This patron of mine, Will Burton – he’s been stopping in pretty regularly for a year. Good man, blue-collar, hardworking guy with a wife and two teenagers. He’s one of my regulars who doesn't mind the risk of death when they come to my bar - got a good number of them, too. Not to toot my own horn, but I mean, that’s how good I am. Anyway, he suggested that I look into getting a gun.

I was pretty against it at first. I wasn’t one of those, “get rid of all the guns” people but I wasn’t gonna run out and get one just ‘cause. Already got enough out there. But after last month, I snapped. I found the shop Will had recommended and went inside. The owner was very helpful and walked me through the whole process. Gave me a discount when I told him where my bar is. He went through the types of guns and accessories and ammo and all that. I tried them all out in the shooting range attached to the shop and goddamn was it a rush. I understand why people go hunting and shit. Damn.

So, a while later I had a handgun and a shotgun. I kept going to the range to practice during my spare time and got pretty good, especially with the hand gun. It’s a cute little thing. Yes, I called a gun ‘cute.’ Stop giving me that look. Whatever. When the bar was reconstructed and ready for re-opening, I still felt nervous. I was sure I’d totally fumble or shoot the wrong person if shit went down. I started doubting my decision now that I wasn’t an emotional wreck.

The worst part was that I was quietly freaking out for weeks. Augusto was actually managing to keep his bullshit away from the bar, even though he had blown me off before. No, that wasn’t an intended pun, either. But I felt stupid for purchasing firearms and thought about turning them in.

I didn’t. Laziness.

It’s a good thing too, because trouble came eventually. Some asshole calling himself Buzzkill decided he was going to go after me to get to Augusto. I don’t even know what that name is - Buzzkill? He had telepathy. What the hell does killing buzzes have to do with reading minds and shit? Dumb. Just fucking dumb. And anyway, me and Augusto were never close so there was a 50/50 chance he’d just let me die, honestly.

You don’t think so? You believe his act, huh? Of course it’s an act - motherfucker would win an Oscar if being a fake bitch in real life was a category.

What was I talking about? Oh, right. Buzzkill sat at the bar and requested a gin and tonic. I had no idea who he was initially, but I got a bad vibe from him. You get good at it when you deal with a lot of shady shit regularly. I was polite and kept serving him drinks, but I quietly unlocked the gun cabinet under the bar. I alerted my staff with our code phrase in case something happened. We’ve gotten good with our code phrase system, and they moved a few people out of the way.

Buzzkill downed his third gin and tonic and leaned toward me. I swear his eyes turned black. Like, all black – no whites or irises. “Tell me where your brother is,” he said. But his lips weren’t moving. I felt this growing pressure in my head, like when you get on an airplane with a sinus infection. That’s the only way I know how to describe it. This guy was digging through my brain, trying to get dirt on Augusto. Honestly, I had no idea where he was and didn't particularly care either.

This asshole wasn’t giving up so easily. He wanted any information he could gather from my head. While this was happening, the lights were flickering and the people closest to us apparently could sense it. My staff noticed that my usually fidgety self was hella still and a few began panicking. We were just frozen and staring at each other, from what people told me later. I was trying to mentally fight this guy. I wanted him out of my head and fought back with every random thought I could.

Augusto must have been aware of Buzzkill’s presence, because he arrived just as I felt myself blacking out. I snapped back into consciousness so fast I fell on my ass. I could vaguely hear them arguing – or posturing, really. Whatever gives superhumans powers makes them dramatic as fuck, too. That’s my theory. There was a lot of, “You’re no match for me” and “You’ve crossed the line” and shit like that.

I stood back up and watched this back and forth for a few seconds. It seemed to be going nowhere. I started eyeing my gun cabinet. It was getting ridiculous, all the talking. Buzzkill was revealing his entire plot to take down the electrical power grid and Augusto was just letting him talk and egging him on. I didn’t understand. Like, everyone in town fucking knew Buzzkill had been trying to do that for a grip. Why the hell wasn’t Augusto doing anything?

“Why are we not in charge, Gust?” Buzzkill was saying to Augusto. “Why are we letting the normies tell us what to do? Should we not be the ones leading the world to prosperity?” He sounded like he was playing Magic and Dragons or Card Dungeon or whatever those damn games are. You know what I’m talking about, right?

No? Well, I can’t explain it to you either. Google it or something.

So Augusto was silent and got really still. Buzzkill was also still. He must have been getting into Augusto’s mind the way he did mine. I’m sure I audibly sighed.

I reached under the bar and pulled out the shotgun. I took off the safety and took a deep breath. “Fuck off, Buzzkill.” See, that’s a much better line than anything these two idiots said to each other. Just a good old “Fuck off.” My patrons got out of the way. Most took their drinks with them. Living in this city, you know the drill. Buzzkill and Augusto were still mind fighting or whatever and not aware of their surroundings. Buzzkill noticed too late. I had already leveled the shotgun at his torso and was pulling the trigger.

BLAM.

Ripped a hole right in his damn chest cavity. Buzzkill was superhuman, but that doesn’t mean “immortal.” Immortality only exists in fiction. Lotta these idiots forget that. This is real life, not a comic book. Just because you have a talent in one area doesn’t mean you’re totally untouchable. And yeah, they’re resilient and usually can’t be taken down with a simple bullet, but that doesn’t mean “indestructible.” When it all comes down to it we’re all just mounds of flesh and blood. Buzzkill especially. He was pretty squishy.

I was surprised at how effective that one action was. Most of the supers avoid this area like the plague now - villians and supposed heroes. Even Augusto has let me alone. Most of the other business owners started packing heat so everyone knows we’re not fucking around anymore. All we wanted was a chance to run our lives in peace.

And that’s how the neighborhood got saved. Anything else you wanna know?