Skate Now Smile Later: The Warehouse Incident

One night, while skating his favorite spot downtown in Central City, Lucius noticed something different in the parking lot—a whole new set of vehicles he had never seen before. The bald scientist’s car was there, as usual, but now three black SUVs idled nearby. Their exhaust smoked in the cold air, brake lights glowing red. He couldn’t help but be nosy. He paused for a moment, watching. We’ve got visitors, he thought to himself.

Just then, the bald scientist emerged from the elevator doors. This time, he wasn’t alone. A woman much younger than him followed—familiar-looking, almost like someone Lucius remembered from high school. She was equally suspicious. The scientist carried a briefcase. A large, soldier-like man stepped out of one of the SUVs and approached them. Lucius squinted. Is that guy purple? Must be the lighting.

They spoke briefly, and the scientist handed over the briefcase. At that moment, a small, shiny orb rolled out from behind the elevator.

Without warning, it exploded into a ball of purple light and energy, sending the scientist, the soldier, and the woman flying in all directions. It was almost like a grenade of light. Disoriented, Lucius blinked, trying to process what had happened. Then he saw someone dart from behind the elevator, snatch up the briefcase, and vanish into the darkness.

Lucius made a split-second decision: chase the thief instead of helping the scientist and his companions. “Hey, asshole! That doesn’t belong to you!” he shouted.

Of course the thief ran. They always ran—or at least that’s what his adopted father, an MP, used to say. Lucius sprinted after him, only to see the man jump into a car. Shit, shit… what now, dumbass? Lucius thought. The car was sleek. That’s a nice ride. Is that a BMW? The headlights blinded him, but the silhouette of the chassis screamed expensive. The engine roared. Oh good, here he comes, Lucius muttered, bracing himself.

The car surged forward at full throttle. Lucius stood his ground, committed to the path he had chosen. He would use his gift—whatever it was—to help those in need. The roar of the engine bounced off the garage walls. He could feel it: something was about to happen. As the car drew close, the glare passed his eyes, and for a split second he saw the driver’s pupils—and the large horizontal scar over his left eye.

Time’s up. It didn’t happen. Lucius had to bail. He dove aside, remembering his old gym teacher’s mantra: Tuck and roll! Tuck and roll! He stumbled, regained his composure, and stared at the taillights with frustration. What the hell… he muttered.

At eighteen, Lucius had enrolled in a paramedic course, and he had been walking that path ever since.

In the past few weeks, Lucius had gone through immense changes. After living his entire life without puberty until age twenty-four, it had hit him hard and fast. Within weeks, he had grown six inches, doubled his weight, and gained the strength of three men. He had gone from scrawny teenager to the strongest person he had ever met. His crippling anxiety had manifested into something strange: in moments of intensity, the world dimmed, time slowed to a crawl, and certain paths lit up before him. If he followed those highlighted paths, they led him to the best possible outcome—as if the universe itself was giving him instructions.

Now, standing at the edge of the parking lot, he caught a glimpse of the license plate as the car disappeared into the dark city streets. Not So Fast  he thought to himself.

For a moment, he considered ending the chase. But the pull in his stomach was too strong. His gut told him to pursue. The car was too fast for his board, so it was time to take to the sky. In recent months, Lucius had become proficient in parkour, leaping from building to building as if he were Spider-Man. He had never pushed himself this far, never been this motivated. In this moment, it felt as if all the planets had aligned, all the world’s energy gathered into one point in time. He was living his full potential.

No time to think. No time to feel. He had to grab that briefcase.

He pursued across rooftops, stumbling but gaining ground. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of something—a helicopter or maybe a small plane. Too quiet for a helicopter, too fast for a plane. No time to waste. The chase continued.

The car slowed as it approached the old warehouse district, pulling into what looked like an abandoned factory.

The building was older than the rest, its architecture heavy with Old World style. Lucius paused, searching for the bright spot, then made his move. He had seen enough Marvel movies to know what came next.

The vehicle parked. A large man in a suit rushed toward a dark doorway. Lucius dropped in, skateboard in hand. “Hey, asshole! I said that doesn’t belong to you!”

Without hesitation, the shadowy figure drew a pistol and fired. For the first time since he was eight, Lucius felt the cold rush of fear—primordial fear. But it lasted only a second. His ability kicked in. To his own amazement, he anticipated the draw and dove clear before the first shot rang out.

The figure wasn’t impressed. He drew another weapon, similar to a pistol, but it fired a pulsating wave of purple energy. Again Lucius reacted but couldn’t dodge. The blast hurled him twenty feet into the wall. This time, it hurt—not the energy itself, but the wall behind him. What the hell is this wall made of?

He collapsed, barely able to rise to one knee. Dizzy, disoriented, he stayed conscious long enough to see a blinding light and hear a noise like a freight train. Then—lights out.

The next thing he remembered was waking up in the Central City General Hospital Emergency Room.

Bloodshot eyes blinked against the fluorescent lights. His head throbbed. The ceiling tiles above him looked like they were breathing. The nurses knew him well; he was a regular on Friday and Saturday nights, bringing in partygoers who had overdosed. One nurse, especially kind, explained that a homeless person had reported finding him alone.

A soft voice broke through the haze.

“You’re awake.”

He turned his head slowly. A nurse stood beside him, pale skin glowing under the sterile light, bright green eyes watching him with a kind of quiet curiosity. Her name tag read Clementine. He’d seen her before—always moving, always busy. He’d gotten the hint and stopped trying to talk to her months ago.

“How long?” he croaked.

She checked the monitor, then scribbled something on a clipboard. “Couple hours. You were out cold when they brought you in.”

Lucius tried to sit up. Pain flared in his ribs. “Who brought me?”

Clementine hesitated. “Paramedics. Said they recognized you. You’re kind of a regular, you know.” She smiled faintly, not unkind.

“Was anyone with me?”

She shook her head. “No. Cops said a homeless man flagged them down. You were alone. No signs of a struggle. No blood. Just… unconscious.”

Lucius stared at the ceiling again. “That doesn’t make sense.”

Clementine didn’t press. She adjusted his IV, then paused.

“You always come in helping someone else,” she said. “Tonight, it was you that needed a little help.”

He looked at her. For a moment, the room felt still. Her eyes held something—recognition, maybe. Or just the kind of empathy that didn’t ask questions.

“Thanks,” he said.

She nodded. “Get some rest, Lucius.”

Then she was gone, her footsteps fading down the corridor.

Lucius lay back, the name Clementine echoing in his mind. He didn’t know why, but something about her felt important—like a thread he hadn’t noticed until now.

Lucius remembered everything vividly, but he knew better than to explain. It wouldn’t sound believable.

Why did that man leave me alive? What was in the briefcase? And what the hell did he hit me with?