A Prompted Story by /u/prompted-writing
The more you learned about your powers the more uncomfortable they made you. You resolved to fight without them as much as possible and in turn became one of the most competent heroes ever. You are now cornered and, as much as you hate to admit it, your powers provide the only way out.
(reddit link)
"Victor Seven, on scene," Herbert radios as he and Jackson step out of the cruiser. They came in with lights and sirens, but the chaotic scene ahead of them barely reacted to their presence. That's not a good sign.
A gangly, strung out youth seems to be the focus of the commotion. He's holding a syringe, waving it in front of him at the crowd. There's someone on the ground behind him, condition unclear. They're collapsed against the brick wall of the old Hill St Diner. The youth seems to be trying to keep the crowd away from them.
The crowd is seven adults, approximately half of them male, approximately mid-thirties to mid-forties. Most of them stay two paces back, in a loose cordon, not actively aggressive but keeping the youth trapped. The two largest males are in front, actively engaging. One has his hand at his hip, under his jacked. Potential firearm. The other is holding his grocery bag in front of him as a makeshift shield.
"Just put it down! Drop it and we wont to hurt you!" Grocery Bag Male is shouting. From the crack in his voice, it's obvious he's not used to shouting.
"I've seen your lies! I watch them and they consume me!" The youth screams, but the words are confused and garbled. He stabs about ineffectually with the syringe. "Lies, lies, liar!"
Potential Firearm Male is just opening his mouth to speak as Herbert and Jackson reach them.
"Hooo, what's going on here?" Herbert asks, his voice deep and loud.
The Hooo is a well practiced sound, designed to resonate. Herbert's honed his Hooo to an artform over eighteen years of service. It's pitched just right to give listeners a gut-level sense of his incredible size, the bellow of his massive lungs in his giant chest. But the way Herbert says it, there's no threat. It's the sound of a favoured grandparent checking in on the playroom, of a trusted friend rejoining the clique's banter. Herbert's Hooo conveys that there's nothing to be worried about and that he's large enough to ensure that.
They've been partners long enough that Jackson knows to keep his mouth shut and let Herbert work his magic. Herbert stands a full head and shoulders above the next tallest person---Grocery Bag Male---and his torso is broad enough that the two smallest females would likely fit inside its volume. Everything about Herbert speaks of the potential of rapid, extreme violence. Everything except his mannerisms.
The crowd has quieted at Herbert's announcement of their arrival. They part to give him direct access to the youth, still holding the syringe but now motionless and staring. Herbert steps forward, keeping Potential Firearm Male in his peripheral vision. He puts his hands on his knees and bends down, panting slightly. He isn't out of breath, but it's a good excuse to come down closer to the youth's level.
Herbert adjusts his glasses slightly on his nose and looks over them. He doesn't need glasses. They're clear, shatterproof glass with no curvature. Their only function is to convey kindly grandfather.
"How are you feeling?"
The question catches the youth off-guard. Not an order, or a demand, not an escalation. A question laced with genuine concern.
"I, I'm..." The youth hesitates, eyes darting to the crowd on either side of Herbert.
"I saw the truth and they keep coming and coming, I'm trying to stop them." The youth's words still seem psychotically disconnected, but he's less panicked now. He's trying to explain, not defend.
"I see," says Herbert, imbuing the words with all the compassion he can muster. "That sounds really hard, really tiring. You're doing so well. Who's that behind you?"
In his periphery, Herbert sees Jackson moving the crowd away. He does it firmly, he is the police, he isn't asking, but subtly so as not to draw the youth's attention away from Herbert. Jackson will be asking questions next. Determining whether there's any immediate, unseen threat to alert Herbert to.
"Who? This?" The youth notices the body behind him, the confusion in his eyes only lasts a moment before they fill with recognition. "Lisa. It's Lisa. They're trying to take her."
Herbert can see that it's a female now, but her upper body is under a blanket. He still can't establish her condition, but her legs look pink and alive. The youth moves his bare foot so it presses against Lisa's thigh. It's a gentle, affectionate movement. Lisa doesn't react.
"Is Lisa okay? Does she need help? What can we do to help Lisa?" Herbert asks, crouch even lower but not moving closer.
"She's tired, and she's scared, but she didn't see it and she can't know the lies but she's sleeping. Sleeping."
His view of the hostile crowd blocked by Herbert's kindly, grandfatherly mass, the youth's confused mind forgets them and his attention turns entirely to Lisa. He drops the syringe as he moves the blanket aside and begins shaking Lisa, gently, by her upper arm.
"Lis? Lis? Hey, hey, hey, Lisa."
Herbert reaches for his radio. "Victor seven, control. Situation contained. EMS required, mid-twenties female, unconscious and unresponsive."
"Copy that, Victor Seven," The radio squawks, and in a moment of unprofessionalism adds, "Tally one more for the de-esco champ."
Herbert allows himself a tiny, subtle grin. Despite being the largest, strongest officer in the entire state, possibly the country, Herbert can count on his fingers the unfortunate occasions that he's had to use his monstrous size for violence. He attained the departmental record for de-escalations years ago, but he still feels a warm glow after each encounter that's solved with words rather than muscles.
-|-|-
Susie is looking herself in the eye in the mirror. It's a hard look. Focused. Determined. Unrelenting.
"No mercy! Never back off! Never give up! Never let them go!"
She barely takes a breath between each mantra. Each is an incantation to brace her for the battle appproaching.
"Everything is depending on you! Everyone is depending on you! Rocco is..."
Susie's throat catches. The spell is broken. She keeps her own gaze, but tears begin to form in her eyes. Memory and reality wash over the hard, unrelenting character she'd been invoking. Poor Rocco. Poor Rocco. She has to do something. She has to help but there's no money, no work, nothing she can do and no-one to turn to. Rocco's only getting worse and crying won't help. Being weak won't help.
Susie shakes the tears from her eyes and locks her own gaze in the mirror again.
"No mercy!"
-|-|-
Herbert has been cornered and he's beginning to panic. It's an unusual sensation for him and it's unfamiliarity leaves him even more off balance.
"I, ahhh, I just can't right now," he stammers, but the young lady is relentless. She barely comes up to his belly, yet somehow is managing to stare him right in the eye. Her head is tilted right back, and yet it's Herbert who feels the discomfort.
"Of course it needn't be an immediate payment," the girl says as her teeth flash a disarming smile. "It's your ongoing commitment to the plight of these poor creatures that can make all the difference. We're talking about your kids growing up in a lifeless world of cement or a world filled with biodiversity. It's an ongoing crusade."
"Yeah, I just, ummm..." Herbert tries to step aside, to move around her. He tries to disengage with every subtle social cue in his arsenal. None of them work.
"Thanks, it's been very nice to..."
"It is nice to meet someone so dedicated to saving our environment!"
A slight step to the right, but it's anticipated and this tiny creature---Susie, her badge says---is right in front of him again, fully engaging him.
Herbert tries looking through his wallet, but she's anticipated that too, reposting with subscription forms. He's literally said "goodbye" three times already, but still she persists. Indefatigable. Unavoidable. She must be a quarter of his size, but has managed to completely lock him in place. Preventing any movement. Disarming any evasion.
Herbert is desperate. At last, to his utter shame, faced with a creature that has entirely bested him, Herbert resorts to using muscle where words should suffice.
Herbert flexes his left thigh as hard as he can. The new, fitted slacks rip immediately. The inseam bursts, threads splitting from mid-thigh, right up to his crotch.
Herbert's face turns red.
Susie's face turns red.
At last, she is lost for words. For this, she has no social counter-measure.
Herbert grabs his crotch. "Excuse me, excuse me," he mumbles, shuffling awkwardly past the stunned vixen and towards his car.