Beacon of Hope



Chapter Six

DISCLAIMER :: This fanfiction is based on Superman from DC Comics. All rights reserved. Art by CWBlaine on Deviant Art.
Author's note: Perhaps it is the start of a new collaborative universe or a standalone project for myself. I don't know, yet.

(( Chapter Theme: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2aJUnltwsqs ))

As one might expect, the mall incident blew up. The local news was talking about it. The national news was talking about it. Social media was filled with amateur videos of it. None of the angles actually managed to capture my face, but they caught everything else. It was interesting to see my speed, flight, and frost breath from a perspective other than my own. To see this young woman no older than my own daughters accomplish these feats from an outside viewpoint was eye opening.

Madison had become something of a confidante. I wasn't happy to learn that she would sometimes climb out onto our roof, but her reasoning was intriguing. She would climb out there and lie down on the shingles, gazing skyward for solace or to think over impactful events. Before now, I hadn't known her as such an introspective person. Maybe I had been a bit too busy with work or turned off in a way. A few evenings after the mall incident, we had climbed out there together and watched the sunset.

"You're going to have to be more careful out there, Dad." She advised after a while.

Taking in a breath, I nodded. "Your mother said the same thing on the way home from the whole thing."

"It's not just the danger of a wardrobe malfunction. There's a reason superheroes wear costumes and masks, you know. It's not just because it looks cool or distinguishes them from others."

My head nodded while my eyes stayed on the horizon. "Yea, the whole 'secret identity' thing."

"Why do you think Batman wears the costume, cape, and cowl?"

I turned to look at her and shrug. "He says it in the comics: to strike fear into the hearts of the people making the people of Gotham afraid."

She rolled her eyes at me. "Dad, how do you think the press in Gotham City would react if they found out the richest man in Gotham was going around beating up street criminals in the middle of the night? What if Mark Zuckerberg took all that kickboxing training, went into San Jose, and started beating up on the gangs or some guy robbing a convenience store?"

I recoiled at the questions. "Well, as a journalist, it would probably be a top story and not a good look for Bruce Wayne or Mark Zuckerberg. The story would come out, then lawsuits and criminal prosecution would likely follow."

"Right. But Batman's a good guy, right?"

"Well... his methods leave a lot to be desired, but he gets to justice in the end. I don't appreciate all the violence as a means to an end, personally."

She leaned a little closer to me. "And what happens when the villains find out the true identities of the heroes?"

My face showed an expression that conveyed I finally understood the point. "Oh."

"It puts the loved ones of the hero in danger, doesn't it?" I nodded and she continued. "It makes it hard for the hero to hold a normal job or lead a normal life, doesn't it?"

"So, you're suggesting that I need some kind of costume and probably a mask if I'm gonna do other things like I did at the mall, aren't you?"

"The question is: how? It's not like you've got a baby blanket from the planet Krypton you were wrapped in that Grandma can sew a suit together from."

I let out a laugh. "Madison, you know your grandmother can't sew."

She joined in the laughter, playfully pushing me. "You know what I mean. It's gotta be just as tough as you are now. I have no idea how that's possible, though."

I searched my mind for possibilities, but really only came to one. "Military grade advanced materials research, probably. We're in uncharted waters with that thing that hit Earth, whatever it was. If it made me like this and that guy at the mall like he was, what else is possible?"

"I'm too tired to think too deeply on it. I'm gonna head in for bed. You gonna do your flight practice tonight?"

"Probably... after I make sure you make it into your bedroom safely."

We both began to make our way off the roof. We were only a few feet from her bedroom window. There was just a slim bit of roof in front of it. I walked alongside her and made sure she didn't slip and fall to the ground below. She made it just fine without my help, but one can never be too careful. Once she was safely inside, I leaned in to kiss her forehead as I'd done since she was a child.

"Sweet dreams, sweetie," I stated softly to her.

She smiled. "G'night, Dad. Have a good flight."

She closed the window and I was alone on the roof. I walked back to the spot we'd just been sitting and stood waiting for darkness. I had decided that practicing my abilities might actually be a good idea. There was no way to know my limits without practicing. Exercising caution was a good idea, especially after how my exploits have been blowing up on the news and social media. Flying, specifically, had been documented by public access cameras and reposted online which led to its virality. Deciding to fly at night reduced the chances of that happening drastically.

Once the sun went down and the light faded a bit, I slowly lifted off the roof and propelled myself upward. Once about cloud level, I could hide amongst the fluffy water vapor without attracting attention. The trade off was that it was really hard to see anything that might be approaching with the naked eye, so I had to resort to "super vision". I had discovered it wasn't simply limited to fluoroscopy but I could also utilize thermoscopy. This way, I could see birds and even planes around me. Strange for most people, but it seemed more natural to me the more I used it.

There was no real flight plan on these excursions. I merely picked a direction and let my whims take me. Most people might start jogging or riding a bike as a means of focusing internally and processing their stress. Before all this, I had no such outlet. Now, taking a flight was becoming the activity that was allowing me to process everything that was going on and reflect on it. Not to mention, it was the most exhilarating experience of my life. There truly was no equal.

My mind drifted to my family. Laura and I were talking more, but our relationship had most definitely changed. Neither of us had as yet determined to what extent. Hannah had still not spoken a word to me. Madison had become something of a confidante. Olivia was finally beginning to speak with me. She remained quite laconic, but I'll consider even a single word to be progress. I'm not truly sure what role I play in the family anymore. I act as if I'm still the father, but it doesn't seem like anyone else considers me to be such any longer.

Suddenly, something grabbed the front of the off-shoulder sweater I was wearing, flipped me over, and forced me downward. Falling out of the sky, the mystery was solved. I was looking up at a man that appeared to be close to hitting thirty with long ginger hair and a thick beard. His blue eyes were nearly the color of ice. Underneath his blue tunic, it seemed his muscles had muscles. Behind him, the clouds seemed to almost form a halo and really showcased the stairs beyond. In seconds, my back hit the ground but he did not release his grip. Instead, he raised his right arm. His right hand wasn't human. It seemed to be an entirely metal hand of some kind. The craftsmanship seemed archaic, but it worked.

"Hver ert þú? Hvað ert þú að gera í mínu landi?" He nearly growled.

Instinctively, my hands rushed up to cover my face. Panic filled my voice. "Whoa! I don't know what you're saying!"

He seemed to hesitate for a moment and release his grip a little. He spoke with a thick accent I couldn't decipher. "Who... are... you? Why you come here?"

The panic remained in my voice. "My name is Christopher Kent! I'm not sure where 'here' is!"

His grip was entirely released and I heard him stand. "Kristófer? What father would give his daughter that name? Do you mean to say Kristín?"

Feeling safer, I lowered my hands and looked up at him. For all the world, the man looked like someone from a Renaissance Faire that decided they were a Scandinavian from the Viking Age. "No. I mean Christopher." I stood and brushed myself off, getting a look at the crater that had been caused by the rough landing. "Where am I?"

With his human hand, he gestured to the landscape. "Ísland."

I shook my head. "You mean to tell me I was lost in my thoughts so long I ended up in Iceland?!"

"I do not know of this." He stated, his accent still very thick.

"Whom do I have the pleasure of speaking with?"

He took a moment to collect his thoughts. "I am called Týr Hymisson. I am protector of these lands."

"Tyr?" I asked then let out a laugh. "Really? They let you have that name?" I knew from a piece several years prior that Iceland actually passed a law that governed what names parents could give to their children. I sometimes thought a similar law should be implemented in the United States, but alas...

"My name precedes the law by many years." He stated plainly. His brow furrowed in what I interpreted to be thought. "You are called Kristófer. You fly. You do not get harmed when I bring you to ground. Yes?"

My own brow furrowed. "All correct. Where are you going with this?"

He started pacing and stroking his beard. "It has happened again."

"What has happened again?"

"The beacon of the stars."

"Excuse me?"

He stopped pacing and looked at me directly. "Many years ago, when the world was young, the sky blessed many. All over the world, blessed beings emerged. They became known as The Gods. We were people, like any. We were changed." He hung his head. "I was changed." He sighed. "I was called Tewiyā then: mother of seven and leader of our people. Forty winters passed before that day."

My eyes widened at his admission. "Wait, you're saying this event has happened before? Where the Earth is struck by some cosmic phenomenon and people emerged with powers?"

"As you say, it was some time ago. Five thousand winters have passed."

"FIVE... THOUSAND... YEARS?!"

"In your words, yes." He shook his head. "How many are you?"

My eyebrow raised almost instantly. "I don't understand."

"How many like you?"

"I have no idea. This only happened about a week and a half ago."

"Still new? Chaos has not come?"

"Uh... what do you mean 'chaos'?"

He growled. "It happened to us. People change. They have power. Some use for good. Others... not so good."

"I don't think anyone has sorted themselves out, yet. Though, I did stop some guy who used fire in a shopping mall a few days ago. He was going to hurt people."

He narrowed his eyes on me. "Why do that?"

I stood firm. "It was the right thing to do. People were going to get hurt."

He kept his eyes narrowed and I was left wondering what he was thinking. "What else you do? Just fly and not get hurt?"

I shrugged. "A few other things."

"What things?"

I took in a breath, not knowing why I was divulging this information to some Icelandic man I'd just met that thinks he's five thousand years old. "I... can see in the X-ray and infrared spectrum. I'm really strong. I'm really fast. I can blow really hard and make it cold. I can shoot hot energy from my eyes. I can even hear and smell really well."

He nodded. "Strong, fast, and the other things?" He took a stance and smirked. "Show me. Hit me."

I chuckled nervously. "I'd really rather not. I'm non-violent."

He hit me. With his metal hand. It actually hurt a little and I went flying backward. I hit a big rock and slumped to the ground unceremoniously. The rock cracked. Shaking my head, I came back to my senses just in time to see him coming at me in a leaping strike while screaming some kind of war cry. He intended to punch me again. The world around me went into slow motion again as I stood, dusted myself off, and stepped to the side. Time returned to normal and his hand impacted the rock instead of me. With a twisted grin, he turned to me and attacked again. It was clear he was not going to stop.

He raised his fist to attack once more. The world slowed again. I moved to dodge each of his blows. The first couple missed but a third hit me and knocked me over. When a fourth blow came at me, I put my hand up and caught it. The world returned to normal and I merely held his fist in my hand while he stared me down. It was quite the feat because his hand was absolutely huge compared to mine. It took very little effort for me to hold his hand in place.

"What are you trying to prove?" I asked him.

I could feel the effort leave his arm and he pulled his fist away. "Testing. You are fast, tough, and strong. Good. You cannot fight. Maybe I train you."

"What? Why do you think I need you to train me?"

"Many trials lie ahead. You need to be ready."

"I already told you I'm non-violent. I don't want to fight."

He took in a breath and let it out slowly. "What you do when you have no choice but fighting? Give up?"

"Well, no, but –"

"Exactly this. You learn to fight so you don't have to."

"That doesn't make any sense."

"It will. Where you live?"

"Chicago... ish."

"United States? Is bad place to be... or good place."

"You are still not making sense."

"Accent is thick or your head?" He sighed, frustrated. "You train with me here. I call you and you come, yes?"

"Maybe it would be better if we set a schedule or something." I shook my head. "Why am I negotiating a schedule with a deranged Icelandic man?!"

"It maybe best if you come at night. You have day job? You keep it. You come here at night and we train. Deal?"

"I still don't know who you are, really. I know you can punch me. That's it."

"I am Týr. The people of my homeland called me the god of the skies, war, justice, and heroes. They did not know things. I accepted and did what I could." He smirked. "Because it right thing to do."

"You're telling me you are THE Týr?"

He nodded firmly. "Yes. Týr Hymisson. Where is mystery?"

I threw up my hands. "Okay, I'm going home now."

"I come with you, then. I fly too." He actually smiled.

"What? No! My wife would rightfully have my head for bringing some strange man home in the middle of the night!"

He nodded. "Forgive me. I have not known people for some time. I follow, but find other place so your wife not angry."

I let out a groan. It seemed there was no deterring this man. "I can't really stop you from following me, but don't make it weird and be discreet. People make a spectacle if you can fly without wings."

"I know. People change." He nodded.

Keeping an eye on him, I slowly rose into the air. I'd gotten rather proficient at controlling the speed of my flight since I started practicing. After a few moments, he started to follow me. Turning and heading higher into the sky, a large part of me was trying to understand why I had begun to tentatively trust this man. There is no way we'd have known one another otherwise. We had just met. And yet, there was a trust between us. Explanations escaped me.

Further, he seemed to have something of an understanding of the event that changed me. He claimed it had changed him, too. A very long time ago, a similar event had occurred and created the beings ancient people had referred to as The Gods, according to him. Anthropological history was never my strong subject, but I do remember that the gods of Sumer had first appeared in text about the time he was describing. I wouldn't bet on my accuracy of knowledge, though. It's been thirty years since I remember any talk of world history on a daily basis. It would seem that I had a mystery on my hands. I had no idea where to begin finding the answers.

Once over my home, I bid my compatriot adieu and flew down toward my house. He stayed back, thankfully. I could safely enter my house and move toward my bed in the spare room without worry. Changing out of the now dirty sweater and sweatpants, I grabbed another set of loungewear and crawled under the blankets. Something told me my world was about to get a lot bigger.