The Current Predicament

It was more than 16,000 kilometers from Los Angeles to Melbourne, Australia, and then, Tiberius Hadley didn't even live in California. He lived on the other side of the states, in New York, which was like, another 4 kilometers from Los Angeles. But that would not deter the Interval Kid. He had noticed something that had interested, and bothered him deeply, and he was going to get to the bottom of it.

If there was anything Tiberius believed in, it was the use of metahuman powers for the safety and protection of normal humans, and the upholding of reasonable laws (yeah, not all laws were cool, in his opinion) to bring criminals to book. So, when he had heard of a metahuman criminal who murdered innocent civilians for no apparent reason, it just made his blood boil. And even though he was far away, he was going to let this serial killer, and the world at large, realize that Justice was just a step away.

His expression intense and stern, Tiberius completed donning his suit, then looked at himself one more time in the mirror, before slipping on the headgear part of his outfit, or his mask, if you will. For long distance travels, he had to take extra preparations, so he had packaged some home-made peanut butter sandwiches in a small backpack. Funnily, the bag was full of those and little else, but that was all he required for his journey. Once he was sure he was ready, he turned off the lights and locked the door to his little apartment behind him. Most likely, he wouldn't be back till the next day.

It took him roughly an hour to get to Los Angeles; unlike the other time when he'd been distracted, he had spent an hour extra. From there, he zipped to Seaside, and continued his hyperspeed sprint over the waters of the Pacific Ocean, in a general south-western direction. Running over the water was fun, though he had to, more than once, evade towering waves and ensure that he did not miss his footing. If he slowed down, he went down, and no one had to tell him that he was better off running than swimming. And as he ran, he ate.

Running non-stop ensured that he hit Byron Bay about four hours after he started his water-walking, and without waiting, he tore through on his way to the state capital of Victoria. He could rest once he got there, and started following whatever leads he had. It was twilight just as he got to the city, which was a good time, in his opinion. Criminals liked to work under cover of darkness, and such was the best time to draw them out. The Interval Kid stopped after such a long journey, sitting on the steps of the Shrine of Remembrance, as he opened his backpack to retrieve another sandwich and consider his next line of actions.

At this rate, he would have to get more food for his return journey.

Cold fluorescence bathed the 7-Eleven in white light. Stores like this were scattered all over Melbourne, sometimes three on the same block. Like a gas station without the gas, 7-Elevens were known for their convenience and acted as luring flames for any hoodlum beggar to score a couple dollars from any customers.

A man in a black hoody sat in the back of the store with his hands over his mouth. The woman at the counter kept a close eye on him. She was somewhere in her late 40s, and was used to those who might want to get the one up on her. Her skin was tough and she held a large presence, her knuckles covered in callouses indicative of prior conflicts. Unbeknownst to the man in the back, she had won most of them. A small standard definition box television in the top corner of the room fizzled as it played. Late night news.

"It's been years, officer. Tell me, what does our local justice department have planned to deal with this killer?" A reporter said. The camera shifts to a bald police officer in his 30s. Clean.

"The one the tabloids call the 'Heart Attack'?" The man's eyes furrowed.

"Of course."

"Look, we have no solid proof a killer of such a nature even exists. There are larger, more devastating real threats out there that are causing harm and we have to deal with those first."

"Don't you think there are people more suited to such threats? And no offence but come on now officer, anyone with some time on their hands can figure out something seriously wrong is happening here. In our city. What are our law enforcement going to do about it?"

"No further questions, we're all very busy here."

"Seriously?"

The man in the back tapped his gloved fingers on the small table. He clenched his fists and struggled to control each breath. He had been trying to dial back murders in the past couple months, releasing energy onto small animals and birds rather than humans. The homeless by Yarra River had an appreciation for Bernard's skills, as he would share the dead animals with them for meat. This also meant they knew about him, and whatever police were investigating the Heart Attack would force Bernard into hiding more and more. The goal was to convince the system that he did not exist, but the public loved buying the conspiracy. Bernard couldn't blame them. They were right.

His mouth full of a bite of delicious peanut butter sandwich, the Interval Kid began to flip through various radio channels, trying to see whether he would get any information on this serial killer. Most of the stations talked about information unnecessary to his cause. It would appear that the serial killer was no longer making news headlines in Victoria, but he was still at large, and the information that had brought the Interval Kid to Australia hinted that this villain was still active.

Feeling that he had 'rested' enough, the Interval Kid stood to his feet, still clutching a neatly foil-wrapped sandwich, and headed out towards Melbourne's suburbs. Perhaps he could pick up some word on the streets. In a mild flash of color, the Kid 'vanished' from before the imposing structure of the Shrine of Remembrance.

In the city of Melbourne, he noticed something that he had not thought of before: he actually stuck out like a sore thumb. He hadn't thought of the fact that brightly hued and designed superheroes might be a fashion statement only in the States, and he now seemed to be some sort of geek intent on celebrating Halloween when it was months away. Many people stopped to stare at him, and he responded by grinning and waving at them. Some smiled back, but most just crossed the street and looked at him like he was some kind of loon. Okay, no socializing on the mission.

He had thought of asking people questions, but he wasn't sure they would give him the answers he sought. Maybe he could go to the police station and ask around. Yeah, they'd think he was crazy and all, but perhaps with a little demonstration, they would be convinced.

Not willing to cause any panic or alarm, or even excitement or interest, the Interval Kid strolled in the direction of the police station, having asked for directions from a coffee shop.

"We're closing up shop. You ought to leave." said the woman at the counter.

"I-It it i-t's twenty four hours." said Bernard, pushing each syllable through each electrical pulse.

"Not for you, mate. Buy something or get out." She had a crack in her lip that had scabbed over. It was now evident should could be anywhere from her 50s to her 70s. Would anyone miss her? Bernard contemplated killing her, trying to find some way he could justify it. If someone this old was working a 7-Eleven, they might prefer to die. No more illness or dying body, and it would be far more comfortable than being killed by the hands of everyday street beggars. And then Bernard could have the store for himself... Or at least until someone else walked in.

He fidgeted with his gloves, pinching at them to come off.

"I-i've got mon-money..." Bernard produced a wallet from his pocket and dumped in on the counter. A couple dollar coins came out, and then he grabbed a pack of Hubba Bubba. "G-Gum." He said.

However the woman saw the ID inside the clear wallet pocket, and the face was of a woman's. "That's not your money." she said. "I'm going to have to call the police if you don't leave now."

She doesn't understand you, Bernard. Make her understand.

"N-No, n-no, no, n-n-no..." He took off his gloves and let them fall to the floor. The woman reached for her mobile. The Heart Attack reached for hand.

If only there were a particularly quick passerby walking down the street who could save her.

OOC: Sorry for my tardiness...

---

Providence, or what some would call dumb luck, or coincidence, is what sets up a good story. It so happened that the young Interval Kid, who was obliviously heading towards the police station (and thinking up all the snarky comebacks that would be appropriate for cops who either thought little of his outfit or were not interested in helping him out), was going to walk past a particular convenience store, in which the late news was on, and a rough looking woman suspiciously watched a... well, suspicious looking, homeless man.

He had just finished wolfing down another sandwich, and had expertly tossed the crumpled foil paper into a nearby trash can, when a sudden activity caught his attention through peripheral vision. The Kid turned his head, eyes dull, and noticed a wallet on the counter. Okay, that was not as important as the woman who was reaching for a cell phone, and the man who was reaching for her hand. In slow motion, Kid registered the looks on both of their faces: the woman looked aggressive and irritated (obviously wanting to send the man away or something like that); the man looked scared? Pained? Hopeful? Kid couldn't say, but his superhero sense told him that something was about to go down.

However, for some reason he didn't know, he didn't react immediately. Most likely it was because a part of him logically reasoned that this was a domestic squabble and might not require his interference. In fact, he might be considered a busybody for coming to help out. But when he saw the woman's face change from ire to shock, horror and pain, his muscles moved even before his mind considered why. He didn't know what was happening, but he was fast. He would save her before she...

The Interval Kid's altruistic line of thought was cancelled the moment he grasped the bare wrist of the homeless man, to yank him off the woman's own hand. The pain was not as terrible as the second cascade that followed next, and as the Interval Kid pulled himself free, he stumbled backwards, knocking a table over and falling to the ground.

He lay on the ground, conscious but unmoving. He was mildly stunned, but his brain was regaining clarity quickly. And the first thing he realized was that the pain felt like a taser.

Electricity.

OOC: I ain't bothered by it, it gives me time

A young man in a strange suit had appeared to yank Bernard's hand away. He arm jerked upwards in reaction. The clerk yelled something abusive and hid behind the counter. A bombardment of thoughts came into Bernard's mind, numbing him and making it extremely difficult to think as if it wasn't already.

Was this one of those supers? That wasn't good. Bernard was meant to fly under the radar. Was this guy part of some organisation or team? What were his abilities, even? Bernard hadn't seen anything, he was so focused on the woman.

"Wha-what are you?"

The Kid had touched his skin. He obviously had no idea what Bernard was. Should he just go in and kill him? Would people look for him?

The phone.

"Get away! You d-d-don't wanna b-b-b-b..." He wasn't able to complete his sentence. Out of an extreme irritation and anguish, he proceeded to walk around the counter to kill the woman (or at least touch her phone) before she could call anyone.  "You don't get it!" He shouted, not towards anyone in particular.

His eyes were open, but the Kid was in another world of his own. His mind, though, was joining all the dots together, like a child's picture game. First (obviously!), the man was a meta-human. Looks could be deceiving; Kid half expected that anyone with powers would find themselves a suit or brand or some other defining factor. This man, on the other hand, was almost totally nondescript. The second thing he pointed out to himself mentally, was the fact that the man, some way or another, could manipulate electricity. How else was he exposed to such high voltage? And, matters made worse, the electricity was not the type that people could laugh over. Sustained exposure could induce tachycardia, or spasmodic heartbeats that could result in heart failure and death. Kid's eyes widened.

Evil meta-human.

Murderer.

Death by heart failure.

The Interval Kid bolted to his feet with the speed of shock. This was probably the guy he had come all the way to Melbourne to deal with. Ire began to build in the young hero's heart. He had always maintained that those with powers were supposed to use them for the greater good, not support their evil whims. But there was still something that did not add up. Why was the man stuttering and wincing? The Interval Kid expected some brazen faced, weasel eyed individual, not someone that looked like he needed help. One thing was certain, though: the man looked like he meant the woman harm, and the Interval Kid wouldn't stand for it.

"Oh, I get it all right!" the Interval Kid quipped, as he moved faster than the speed of sound to snatch the phone out of the woman's hands. He was not sure he wanted the police here yet, what with the way they had seemed so nonchalant about the whole thing. In times like this, the best they deserved was to clean up after he was done. "In fact, I even got the phone..." okay, that was a very corny pun... "... which you seem so hell bent on getting. So, why don't we slow down, discuss this like civilized people..." So saying, he blitzed over to the bald man and appeared by his side, draping an arm around the man's shoulder. In so doing, he brushed against the man's scalp by mistake.

The Interval Kid found himself staggering back, pain and surprise registering in his brain as he got fed with another powerful jolt of electricity. Once again, he found himself on the floor, an angry grimace on his face. It may have looked comical to some, but the Kid was really offended now. he had tried to be friendly, and the man struck him again with his electricity? Maybe it was time to put the villain in his place...

... but still, the Kid stayed supine on the floor. "That really hurts! Just how many volts is he giving off?"

Moving towards the woman, the Kid yelled something- and was that an American accent-?
Gone. The phone was gone. Glancing around, Bernard saw the Kid had moved. And had the phone in his hand. Bernard stumbled backward in a fright. Why did he want the phone?

"H-H-How..?" It was a stupid question, uttered out of reflex rather than thought. Either the Kid could teleport or was so fast it didn't make a difference. Either way, they had abilities. Whatever dreams Bernard had about remaining hidden from the metapowered were over. Surely, there weren't many ways out of this. A lot of those ways included killing both the Kid and the woman. The infamous Heart Attack had never killed more than one person in a single instance, and the death of a foreign metahuman would surely cause a ruckus in the news. Months of work... Keeping those dreadful thoughts at bay. An animal couldn't understand Bernard the way a human would, but he had still made the effort to avoid killing them. Was this his reward? To return to the sewers and drag unaware delinquents from the alleyways through the grates?

Caught in his own sporadic thought, the Kid had appeared beside him. He felt his hand brush by his face and suddenly: Relief. The speedster got shocked again. It calmed Bernard to a point where his prior thoughts became shameful. The Kid sounded pretty young. And that woman... Christ, she was going to die.

He shoved his gloves into his pockets, and could see the Kid was getting irritated. Bernard began to back up next to the exit, arms outstretched to ward away his failing attacker should he get up.

"Too many." He answered, eyes shut hard. Focused. "Y-You can't touch me. Leave m-m-me alone. Don't look." His voice was low and quiet.

Still, the Heart Attack thought about how the Kid said that had hurt. Did he really think that was pain? A momentary sliver is all the boy received. How could he stand there in that suit and feel anything but safety? And so, the amperage continues to build back up again.

The Interval Kid sat up and glared at the retreating man, his own thoughts starting to get jumbled in confusion. "Yeah, I get the 'no touching' part, and to be honest, I would like it to be that way." He rose to his feet,regulating his breath to manage the pangs of pain that were fading away. "But I can't just turn and walk away from all this."

He had come to a few conclusion about this man, conclusions that did not make sense. He had thought this man to be a cold blooded killer, but here, this man seemed to attempt to kill, not because he wanted to, but because he had to. Something seemed to be forcing the man here, so that made him less guilty than the Kid had expected. Also, why did the man talk like that? He seemed to be in a constant state of discomfort, pain even. And even though the Interval Kid had come to fix this meta-human problem, he was starting to see there was more to this than met the eye.

His harsh expression broke into something softer, thanks to the pain being mostly gone. "Look, I know you want to get out of here, but I want to help you, if I can. We can talk about this. You never know; I might be able to help."

The Kid walked towards the man slowly, his own hands held up in a gesture of peace.