Mach: The Super Hero

1.3 Fateful Confrontation

Michael spent most of the following week juggling his relationships with his notoriety. Every attempt was draining, and the failures frustrating. It was as if they wanted him to feel like he didn’t deserve the speed. His own friends treated his love for his speed, and everything that came with it, as evil. They would consider the loosest of sentiments to be gloating. Thinking it was jealousy, Michael figured that it would improve over time, so he endeavored to be patient. Michael apologized instead of raging, and started thinking twice before sharing his feelings. About anything.

However, those circumstances made it very difficult to deal with Max.

Every time he caught Max bothering someone, Michael made a point of confronting him about it and make him stop. Surprisingly, Max always patronized his way out of the confrontation, dismissing Michael as someone who wasn’t supposed to be taken seriously, and walking away as if he was dodging a little kid’s unreasonable tantrum. All the while insinuating that Michael was receiving patience and clemency because he had his super speed. He would be batter otherwise.

Those words were never actually spoken, though.

So, mostly, the bullied would be offended that Michael had tried to interfere. They felt belittled by him, as far as he could tell. For some reason, he had trouble impacting on them that he was trying to help.

Well, not most, just the two, but it still left an impact on Michael.

Who doesn’t need help against Max, anyways? Michael had considered. Even I would need help… Like I want to go against a guy who can bench-press a car.

Michael truly didn’t, really. Even if he wished he would. It was an awkward duality to his feelings that Michael couldn’t clearly figure out. He’d confront Max hoping for a fight, and as annoyed and insulted as he was at being brushed away, he couldn’t help but feel relieved that the fight didn’t happen. In his most suppressed thoughts, Michael was even grateful.

Max would spend most lunch breaks showing off by lifting his car, and he spent gym class doing his own version of exercises. Well, to be fair, so did Michael. The point was that Michael, same as everyone else, had plenty of demonstrations of what Max was capable of.

Still, in the realm of the school’s social climate, the two steered closer and closer towards a collision course. Everyone could see it, and feel it in the air. The overwhelming necessity for the two superpowers to clash.

Push came to shove the day Michael caught Max knocking Thomas against a few lockers. Some of his followers were even surrounding the scene to poke fun at Thomas with mean insults.

Weeks of pent-up passive aggression, even if most of it was not because of Max, finally reached boiling point within Michael. For the first time, he didn’t address Max with any kind of restraint or reasonable tone.

He addressed him with judgmental anger. “Leave him alone, dammit!”

Max stopped in his tracks.

In fact, it felt like the whole hall stopped in its tracks.

Max slowly turned and looked at Michael with a face that was unlike any he had shown on their previous encounters. Insulted disbelief.

“What kinda tone’s that… Mac?” Max asked, evenly.

Michael was too aware how everyone nearby, enough people to be relevant, had heard how Michael had talked to Max. Hesitating, he looked around, his senses enhanced by a racing heart, and saw all kinds of expectations. Excitement and anxiety, and concern. Were they thinking that Michael was starting the fight? Did it look that way? Was it that way?

However, adrenaline was pumping. Michael’s fists clenched. They all hate me, anyway. But if I stop him once and for all…

His moment of hesitation feeding into his anger, Michael turned about to face Max and yelled at him. “Don’t you ever get tired of bossing people around??! Just ‘cause they can’t fight back?!”

“Why not? Everyone’s weaker than me,” Max proudly stated, to the sound of his friends’ giggling support. The hall was already shaping to give them space, as if there was shared knowledge -- certainty even -- of what was about to happen.

A fight.

“No one is, actually,” Michael shot back, marching towards Max, “Strenght’s not about muscles, Max! It’s more about will and principles, and I--”

Max stepped in his direction, shattering the tiles around the step in a loud and intimidating boom. That not only interrupted Michael, but it also startled everyone into silence. They all seemed to find a few more feet to step back across.

Max’s voice then sounded out, firm and strong, and without concern. “You know, ever since you got that speed o’ yours, you’ve become such a pain in the a*s. I don’t want us supers to be fighting when we should stick together, but damn, you’re really pushing it, man.”

Michael’s nerves flared with hate. At the notion that Michael was different, which was a notion that was ruining all his friendships. It pushed him like a punch, and so Michael reacted evenly.

Michael stepped forward and pointed. He was so close he nearly touche Max in the chest. “You’re the one pushing it, you i***t! You keep pushing and pushing. Everyone, every time!”

“Call me an i***t to my face,” Max said, finally making use of an angry tone. His expression narrowed in threat.

Michael straightened up his chest and pulled back his hand so he could get even nearer without touching him. Then, he looked up at Max, right in his eyes. “I think I just did. So go ahead, Max. I’m little, I’m weak. Right? I’m here. Be the bully I know you are.”

Michael squinted like he had seen a thousand movie characters do. “Push me,” he said.

Max glanced around with just his eyes, looking uncomfortable. Michael knew there were a lot of people watching, but he would not look away to confirm it.

Max then looked back at Michael, embittered.

“Back off, Ma--”

Max pushed Michael away, and though his tone of voice was still of someone trying to avoid a fight, the push violently tossed Michael away so powerfully that it sent him flying across sixty meters of air and right into a wall. The students near the collision jumped back in shock. One of them even fell over with a yell.

Michael bounced off with a violent grunt and fell on his chest with an airless gasp.

While those students quickly scurried away, Michael moaned in pain and pushed his torso up out of the ground.

“Ugh…” Standing up, Michael shook his head to re-focus his vision. All his senses, really.

Soon as the colors stopped blocking the world, Michael looked up at Max. The sucker punching bastard was still standing half-way across the corridor. Michael thought he had seemed concerned, but in a blink, Max was looking vindicated. Threatening.

“Just stay down, Mac!” Max yelled out.

That didn’t stop Michael from letting vengeful spite twist his face into a scowl. His legs were ready, and his balance steady.

The students around him flinched as Michael became a blur, leaving behind a tiny whirlwind of dust.

Because of the short distance between them, Michael had to break just a few steps after accelerating, so half a moment later, his shoes dragged against the floor to produce a momentary and extremely loud high-pitched screech.

Max flinched as Michael stopped inches away. A draft of wind blew between the two, fluttering their clothes and those of their closest observers.

Michael knew he had blurred his way right up against Max’s face.

“You’re going down!” Michael yelled.

Max’s arms reached but fell short. Michael blurred his way out of reach and went around to punch Max in the back of his head.

“Aaagh!” By the time Max processed he was getting punched, Michael had landed half a dozen hits.

Everyone pulled back even farther as Max spun around in desperation, trying to catch Michael. Michael followed Max’s every twist and turn, repeatedly stinging the back of Max’s head with jabs.

Michael had thought about fighting Max a thousand times over. It seemed like the same couldn’t be said for his opponent, and that hubris was going to be his defeat. Using the speed to stay behind Max, completely out of his reach, Michael would just hit his head over and over again, preferably exactly in the same spot.

Michael had gotten the idea from an ancient Chinese t*****e, though it might be just a story, where they would have the tortured person sit on a chair, perfectly still, while water dropped on the top of their head. Droplet by droplet. Despite the fact a person can hardly feel a drop of water, the repetitiveness of it eventually turned the sensation into unbearable pain.

The plan was meant to cover for whatever physical endurance Max would have gained with his strength. Michael had certainly gained some with his speed.

However, Michael quickly began to suffer from all the unforeseen consequences of what seemed like a perfect plan. Within three seconds, his arms were aching so much that they were beginning to get stuck and delayed. His fists started to hurt and his fingers to numb, which made his hands open against his will.

This was not at all like what he had envisioned in his mind, and it proved to be too distracting. When Max took his hands to cover his head with them, he happened to catch one of Michael’s hands in his grasp.

This came as a surprise to both of them.

Michael pulled, but Max held tightly, his anger flaring up.

“HA!” Max bellowed, triumphantly. “WHAT NOW, YOU SON OF A!” Max waved his arms around and fiercely rammed Michael into the lockers beside them.

Michael’s body crashed much too violently. Aching, it was all Michael could do to perceive that he was still alive.

He blinked and shook, trying to get his bearings.

No sooner had Michael noticed he was free of Max’s grasp than he felt a bulge in his chest. His body forced him to cough, and to his shock, he saw speckles of blood in his hand.

“Oh God…” Michael voiced, hoarse and worried.

He looked himself all over to check what was it about him that had been broken.

Max, meanwhile, was massaging his head, trying to scratch at some kind of pain. In a grunt of frustration, he let go of it with a shake of his entire body. He focused instead on Michael. “Bah! Let that teach you, i***t! Be careful who you mess with...”

Max clenched his fists in an effort to not grab his head, turned around and started walking away.

Michael near curled against the floor in both pain and fear, and coughed a bit more blood onto the floor. He knew how defeated he must look, but it was nothing compared with how defeated he felt.

Michael used that. He shoved all caution and concern into a trunk made of spite and spilled a jar of bottled frustration over it. Then, he used anger to set it all on fire.

“We ain’t done,” Michael whispered. Ravenously.

From the rubble of defeat, the body of the speedster rose. Michael couldn’t stand up straight, and as he tried, he spat some more blood. This time, a sizeable blot.

Max fully turned to face him. “You kiddin’ me, right? Look at you. You wanna die or somethin’?”

“You know anything about physics?” Michael asked, aware that he was not sounding all that sane. “You know how fast I can get a punch through to your chest in the little distance we have here? You know the strength it’ll have?”

Max’s face twisted in insult. “Maybe you’ll hurt me, sure. But I know you won’t come out of that clean, either,” Max told him. “Don’t be stupid and drop it!”

Wait, he might be right…no wait, no. Maybe? Would…I don’t care, Michael decided. “I don’t care!” Michael yelled, waving his arm.

“You should!” Max snapped with a roar. “You’re too weak, asshole! You’re beaten. Just stay down and don’t make me hurt you even worse!”

“Just stay down, man,” some classmate said.

“It’s ok, he’s just too strong, nobody will think less of you,” another one said.

“Loser,” someone voiced out, making Michael twitch.

Max couldn’t win.

He was a bully. He was the bad guy.

Michael just couldn’t let him do whatever he wanted. He looked at Max’s face, and past memories flashed before his eyes of all bullying and humiliation. Michael allowed all of it to feed his mounting anger, and turn it into hate.

Red flared inside his mind at the speed of thought.

“SHUT UP!” Michael bellowed, silencing the entire hall.

He leaned back, and then dashed forth at full speed.