March Year 5

Children of the Atom: Mutants alone in a world with no mentors, no resources, and no barriers but prejudice.

Previously: Two insane mutants, Dreadlocks and Euphoria, used their fear-inducing and pleasure-inducing powers on the kids, only to be defeated by newbie telepath Free Thinker.

A fat man rolls on his bed, from left to right. The hooker Hubert Carpenter paid for the night has long since left him. He rolls and rolls, dreaming of many people. Spider-Man. Defenders. Frog-Man! They all haunt and laugh of him in his sleep.

It is a nightmare unlike any of those any of us ever read. It is the bad dream of a man with great physical power who is still defeated and humiliated whenever he goes into a fight. Everybody laughs at him. He is a poor fat kid now, and as a child. He's always under-appreciated, underrated; and his feverish sleep continues.

But Saturday, oh! Saturday the Walrus will have his day!

Two AM in the morning, Burn's and Purple Haze's apartment...

Lying on the sofa bed, Jimi Powell is wide-awake. It has been like since he returned from his little misadventure involving the Oasis *. But most importantly, since the Cynic revealed to him that Mark is gay. It is uneasy on him that the guy he shares an apartment with is gay. And a cramped apartment, at that! And so he stays there, awake for a long time until he is too tired to stay worried and collapses, asleep.

[Children of the Atom 4-7 - You didn't miss them, did you?]

"It's time like these..." He says, completing mentally with 'I wish I could get a fix'. But those days of drug use and abuse are gone.

"Did you say something, Jimi?"

The voice is startling, and Jimi immediately sits up, his naked torso showing a well taken care of body, even if not an overly muscular one. The growing chest hair, still not covering much of it accuses instantaneously that Jimi hasn't reached his twenties just yet.

"Marcus, it's you!"

"Who'd you think it was?" Mark replies, looking at him, curious. 'Marcus'? Why such formality at two AM? He was just gonna grab a snack in the fridge, silently, but he heard Jimi's voice. Why 'Marcus' instead of the friendly 'Mark'? Hell, he is only wearing a red night robe; his darkening once blonde hair all messed up.

Jimi notices Mark's... casual... clothing, and pulls the sheet up, covering his own body. Wasn't his skin of such a dark hue, his blushing would have being as noticeable for Mark as it is for me. And I assure you, if it was a white guy like Ted Cleary blushing, he would've turned red and pink.

"What? Shy?" Mark says with a smirk. But he realizes that the reaction came from his sexual preferences, and the grin quickly fades away. "Look, Jimi... something bothering you?"

"Uh, no... Not..."

"It's 'cause I'm homosexual, isn't it?" Mark fires away.

"Yes! Yes! And I'm glad you said it. It was being very hard to keep it in."

"Well, I can't help you much there. It's hard for me, too."

"I ain't a fag! I mean, a homosexual."

"*Sigh* I know... I mean, it isn't easy on me."

"Uh?" Jimi replies a bit astounded, but without dropping his pulled up sheet.

"What? You thought it was easy? It isn't! And, frankly, you're not making it easier, acting jumpy every time I say 'hi'. I bet you haven't talked to Ted all day. Am I right?"

Incredibly right. Jimi avoided Ted the last few days. He had a trouble with schoolwork, but didn't ask for Ted's help. He was curious about what Ted had found out about his powers -- the whole gotta-eat-more-stuff-with-the-stuff-on-his-acid-haze shenanigan -- but he didn't even call.

"No, not really."

"No use lying, Ted told me so. We don't keep secrets from each other..."

"How romantic!" Jimi replied with a cynical tone that reminded him of the man who had told him about all of this.

"... because we're friends, and I was expecting the two of would be friends, too."

"Look, I'm your buddy, but... hell, I dunno! It's something kinda new for me, and..." Jimi drops the sheet.

"For me too. I've never shared a house with anyone else. Even past boyfriends..."

"I don't wanna go there. Don't go there. Just don't."

"Fine. Look, here's what we can do: Ted and I were planning to spend the Saturday in Central Park, having a picnic. But I'll call Greta and Amanda even Susannah to change our plans and have a day with all of us."

"In NYC? Saturday? What we gonna do? Patrol the streets?"

"I was thinking about just spending the time in the Park and other places. Patrol... I don't even know how to do that!"

"I have not a clue... I was just joking, Mark."

"Ok, ok." Mark smiles again. "Is it a deal?"

"Sure, I have Saturdays off anyway. Now let's just get some sleep." Jimi says, rubbing his eyes and slipping under his sheet again. Mark nods and walks away, to his bedroom. In a few minutes, Jimi is resonating like he hasn't for quite some time.

Morning...

Jimi wakes up from a rare dream-less sleep and rubs his eyes. He looks to the right, and a clock on the wall marks the time. He isn't late. He passes his hand through his short hair and gets up from the bed, groaning and mumbling words that cannot be understood.

"Up already? Thought you'd take another hour or so." Mark Hayes answers from the kitchen. He is well shaven and dressed to go to work -- a loose T-shirt and some old jeans are all he needs to sit in front of his PC.

"Well, Mr. Sommerset said we should get in earlier today and tomorrow to repair some of the stuff in the other buildings, before goin' back to buildin' a new office for the company. Man, people 'round here really thought the world was gonna go ka-boom, man *! And the office..."

"Those dudes trashed it really nice **, didn't they?" Mark answered, savoring the victory -- their only true victory, really.

[* The Power Loss event left the whole world without energy or superpowers for two days... people didn't take it all that well.]

[** Children of the Atom #2 - One of the new classics, still available in a MV1 site near you]

"Yeah, well... Anyway, you gonna get some work done today?"

"Uh-huh... Nine o'clock Ted is gonna show up for... uh... He is coming so we..."

"Ok, ok! I get it! Pass me the coffee... Thanks. Anyway, school goes from seven-thirty till eleven, so I don't think I should be much of a hassle for you guys."

"Sure. Saturday still up?"

"Sure, I wouldn't mind going to New York without having to be kidnapped before." Jimi thought for another second about the events in the Oasis. He thought for sure that the world was going to end some times. But he never said it.

Jimi finishes his coffee and his toast, goes to the bathroom to brush his teeth, grabs his wallet and, just when he is walking through the door, Mark interrupts him.

"You need a ride?"

"Nah, it's near. If there's anything to do in a town 'round here than the boss will gets us there."

"Cool. See you around midnight then?"

"Mmm Ted is gonna sleep over?" Jimi is a bit embarrassed. Sleeping in the same place as Mark is ok, but Ted having a sleep over tonight, after all they've been through... it would be much to ask of a man so young, and trying so hard to shake off his prejudices.

"He might." On the other hand, Mark Hayes is a male teenager, and the prospect of sex is in front of him. How many chances are there he would be sensitive about Jimi's worries if he is gonna get laid?

"Well, see ya."

Ted Cleary's class...

A heart on his notebook! And it even has a "T&M 4EVER" written on it!

Man, Ted must be really, really, really bored. He is always the first to find these things trite. Still, he just drew one, and now he's erased it. 'What if someone catches it?' he wonders.

In front of him, his teacher, Debra Whitman, keeps talking about the wonders of Biophysics and its great possibilities to the world... boring! Damn, she isn't even a Physics teacher, or Biology one. This was supposed to be a History class. Ted was supposed to be learning about the Reformation and the Religion Wars and boring people like John Wycliffe or Gaspard de Coligny -- boring dead people.

Instead he keeps seeing this brunette -- her hair dyed so, but he wouldn't know -- talking about her old job. History teachers always do that.

"Ted..." Seeker hears a whisper.

"Uh?" He is suddenly snapped out of his conjectures on the nature of Debby Whitman.

"You got the notes from yesterday?"

"Uh, sure..."

He passes his notebook to whatshisname and resumes his day. I think it's going to be like that forever with him, really.

Except, of course, for the night.

No need to bore you with a day's work...

Let's skip right to the night. Not Ted's, but rather Jimi's. He is at school, and the very last class he is taking is Speech or Discourse or something like that. He chose it -- it was optional -- because he always had a difficulty to act in public, and wants to improve.

He has to make a speech on drugs, convince his audience they shouldn't do them. It will be easy, he thought. He did them for what seems to have been so long, he knows all the bad stuff. He takes his breath, and thinks about everything that used to go on. The desperate need of the next fix. The way his libido -- not that he knows the word, but he knows the feeling -- was diminished. How estranged he became from his Uncle Pat, who raised him. Johnny, Becky... dead. Making a heartfelt speech about this will be easy.

It was horrible. Jimi was incoherent; his emotions overtook his reasoning more than once. Every word of it every now and then seemed lost in a rush of ideas that covered each other. None understood a thing. And when the teacher scribbled his grade, he just knew it wasn't an A+. It didn't even spark a debate. Debate! That's the name of the class.

The bell rang and he thanked the God he believes in that it was finally over. He started to walk away, unsure if he should be going home to stumble on Ted and Mark, or hang around the city. He knew so little of it. It was always Home-Work-School-Home. Why not take a walk?

"Sure! What the hell!"

But as Jimi stepped outside the building he saw what he hoped he wouldn't: junkies. It's not the first time he sees them near his school, and at such a late hour of the night it is no surprise. The other student walk past them fast-paced; others take the longer way altogether. Jimi just stares.

"Not my bizness." And then he takes the long way. His thoughts, however, are haunting.

'It's not my business, they're just some junkies. I'm not one of 'em anymore. I don't care. Walk fast, this town's gotta have neat places. Maybe a bar, the boss paid me today finally. If I go near those kids they'll just get it. It's not my business.

'What if they're there? They ain't hurtin' no one. Let 'em be. Let live and let die, ain't that what they say? So, just let live and let die... They're just some street kids... nobody cares about 'em anyways. Why should I? Shit. I gotta find a payphone.'

There was one nearby. He takes a quarter and shoves it into the machine, still not believing he is doing what he is doing.

"Mark better not be using the phone to... Hello, Mark, it's Jimi. Ya busy?"

"No, I was just showing Ted some... uh, never mind. Why did you call? Anything happened?"

"Sorta. I need you to come to my school."

"Sure, me and Ted will be picking you up in about...

"Ya won't pick me up, and Ted won't be with ya. Just come, ok?" Jimi finishes. He scurries his hand through his hair and heads back to where the criminals were. Criminals? Kids. Where the kids were. There's a two-story building nearby; he goes to the roof to watch them. None of them have guns. Knives... three of them. Mustn't be much of competition here, Jimi thinks. Nothing like the old 'hood.

A car stops nearby, the window goes down, one of them bends over and starts to talk. Jimi can't read lips or understand what they are seeing from so far, but within him he knows. 'Mark's car...' Jimi can see it coming from afar.

He descends the stair and approaches, light-footed, the four dealers. Two of them are younger than him. One of them... one of them he can recognize from one of Ted's class pictures. He holds himself tighter. A purple haze starts to grow from his body. It surrounds him, a fog of iodidric acid.

"Whassat?!" One of them yells. The others turn, surprised. Obviously not a client, one amuses himself. But Jimi isn't fully covered with his powers, just his upper half. They can see it's just a person. Half of them can see it's a mutant.

"Be gone!!!" Jimi tries a spooky voice. "Be gone or suffer my wrath!!!"

"You snotty lil sunvabitch, who da hell d'you think you are?" Are the words that come fast and furious to Jimi's direction. The punch hits him in the chest.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!" The attacker yells. The acid burns his hand. "Shit! Who da f**k are ya?"

Mark's car parks nearby. No one notices.

"I'm Purple Haze, and you will never do this again!" Jimi tries to sound like a super-hero a friend of his once spoke about. Tall, commanding, serious. Who was him? Doesn't matter. It scared his friend. It will scare this guy.

Mark sees Jimi half covered in acid and decides to try the Human Torch routine, outside the car, but all he manages to do is burn a part of his sleeve before putting his fire out. He has to help... but he'll wait for Jimi to need it. Jimi needs his macho pride reassured.

"You ignorant whelp!" Jimi is using the biggest words he can remember. "To attack me is to suffer the fury of Purple Haze!" (Mark is giggling a bit in the sideways; Jimi still hasn't noticed him.) "Abandon your stuff and be gone!"

"Dude, you're not gonna get our stuff!" One of them, a short, thin kid, draws a knife. He jumps to Jimi, who avoids him with ease. 'He is stoned'... Jimi puffs and a cloud goes the assailant's way. It corrodes a part of his pants and he starts to fan it frantically.

"Ok, it's time." Mark says. Mark raises his hands to the height of his chest and starts to form a fireball. But he never uses it. Jimi kicks the two fallen ones in the gut, and the third and fourth start to run away. Jimi doesn't notice. He just keeps kicking. And as the two start bleed and cry, one of them says a word that stops him: "Mom..."

"Get out of here! NOW!" He speaks with a normal voice tone, but still covered with his purple haze. Mark dispels the fireball and rushes to his side as soon as the duo has run off, their tales between their legs.

"You alright?"

"Sure... They weren't much of... What took ya so long? I saw yer car comin' before I even got close to those bastards. Thought you were gonna back me up." Jimi says absorbing the fog somehow.

"What are you doing?"

"Uh... I dunno. Never done this before... But don't change the subject! Where the heck were ya?"

"I... had to make a stop. You never said what this was about anyway. DO you know what it was about?" Mark asks. Jimi sighs.

"I don't. I really don't. C'mon, let's just go home. I don't care if Ted's there, just take me home."

As Jimi and Mark walk to the car, slowly, Mark puts his arm on Jimi's shoulder, comfortingly.

"Don't push it, Mark!"

"Ok! Ok!" Mark says, raising his arms in the air "Whatever you say, super-Jimi."

"Dude, I'm not a..."

"Right."

"Really, I was not..."

"Uh-huh."

"Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrr... Forget it... mmm Mark..."

"Yes?"

"Do you think Greta would...?" Jimi asks, thinking about their absent friend.

"We'll see."

Far away, in a secret HQ, a group of grown men walk around in tights...

"Saturday, my men! Saturday we will march and the people will take us to our rightful spot!"

All the men yell "hurray!" and "woo-hoo!". Nothing special, these militias have been forming all the time lately. No, there's something special. Electrical energy crackles from the hands of twelve of them, and their leader - dressed in a red and blue piece with a white lightning bolt running from left shoulder to the navel - grins more than usual.

"Saturday..."

Next issue: Well, do I even have to repeat that Saturday is going to be a picnic? Well, not much of a picnic, since the Walrus will show up, as well as an old enemy!

Author's Notes

Another issue, another lackluster scene... Action isn't the biggest deal here, now is it? Maybe it doesn't really matter. Action is a part of the issue, but not it's center. There was a time when the resolution didn't come through action, but action came throught the resolution. Or something like that. Still, you know what I mean. Fight scenes shouldn't be meaningless, neither should violence. And they won't ever be, hopefully, in Children of the Atom.

Man, what a lame-ass excuse and a total cop oput of talking about the problem of drugs among teenagers! Let me try again: I don't have friends who suffered directly the problems of illegal drug abuse. But I have some who did indirectly, others who do so with legal drugs like alcohol. And what Jimi does here, I hope you realize, is not the solution. It never is. Maybe, some day, we will find it.

E-mail your comments, thoughts and constructive criticism to Francisco Araujo da Costa

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