(Another what if based around the Fan-Fic #6 premise. This time it's a DC hero in the mix. Previous chapters/parts in this series are here http://www.comicvine.com/forums/fan-fic/8/character-creation-contest-6-for-score-and/745856/#153 and here http://www.comicvine.com/forums/fan-fic/8/what-if-for-score-and/747974/#13 and here http://www.comicvine.com/forums/fan-fic/8/what-if-for-score-and-2/750559/#1 )
I hear him from across the street. Actually I heard him from across the state to be honest, his tone and constant prattling about how useless I am and how much he hates me is hard to block out. But now he is across the street heading this way.
I can smell the horse manure in the cracks of his shoes. I hear him trudge with purpose. I turn my head and spy the derringer in his pocket. I could end this in seconds, without anyone knowing but that is not how my parents raised me. So I sit; a bit stiff as the play continues. I’ve heard the play before, but this is my first time watching it. At times my enhanced senses ruin things for me. It is good when I need to know who voted against me in my party but bad when it comes to some social events.
Major Rathbone shoots me a glance –Is everything okay sir?- His voice echoes in my mind.
-Watch the play-
He turns back to the play, no overly satisfied with my answer. Mary pats my hand, I barely feel it. At times I curse my near invulnerability. It is a blessing and a curse. I am able to run faster than a speeding musketball; I am more powerful than a locomotive, but with that power comes the inability to feel the breeze on my skin or the warmth of my wife. My parents taught me to appreciate my gifts, but not to laud them over people. Which is how I ended up the President, not by force but by my words. I could’ve ended this stupid pointless conflict with my fists, but it takes words to change a man’s heart not punches.
He walks up the stairs, pausing as the audience laughs. His enterance is almost graceful, cat like. The waiting is the most tiresome. I can move between rain drops, I can leap to kiss the face of the sky…I must sit quietly as my assassin ‘sneaks’ up towards me. Major Rathbone looks over again to make sure but soon returns to watching the play.
“You sockdologizing old man-trap!”
The line brings the house down with laughter. He uses the cover of laughter to burst through the door and fires. I sit still as the bullet flattens against the back of my skull. I turn to him as his eyes open wide with terror. I fly at him, grab him by the collar and reef him skyward and up out through the open skylight, up into the cool night air.
“Good evening Mr Wilkes Booth”
He screams in terror, kicking like a toddler trying to escape. “WHAT ARE YOU?” he screams looking down at the massive distance down to the speck that is Ford’s Theatre.
“I’m the President of these United States, Mr Wilkes Booth”
Major Rathbone is quickly to my side, we both hover, my would be assassin on the verge of hysterics.
-I think J’onn, you will have to make him forget a few things-
I drop him and watch him fall away. I shall catch him momentarily. Then I shall rejoin my Mary for the remainder of the play.