Date: Fri, 20 Sep 2013 19:06:01 -0700 (PDT)
From: Wombat <bungala_wombat@yahoo.com.au>
Subject: 'The Old Valley Road Hotel #69' {Wombat} ( MM SciFi Anal Size Musc Biker ) [ 69 ! 75 ]
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The Old Valley Road Hotel.
By Wombat.
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Any constructive comments are appreciated.
I'm at 'bungala_wombat@yahoo.com.au'.
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Dear Nifty Readers,
If you enjoy this story or others on Nifty, please send a generous
donation to Nifty.org at http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html
to help support and maintain this free service full of wonderful
stories so it may continue to remain available to everyone.
Thank you all, Wombat
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Chapter 7 - 'A Rainy Day' Part 9.
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Part 69: Night of the Tiger
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Scott accelerated quickly at high speed high up into the atmosphere
and reached hypersonic speed. A little over a minute later they were
over Sydney. Scott plummeted down in a vertical heart-stopping dive
towards the city. Over the harbour he slowed to a subsonic speed and
flew over the Sydney Harbour Bridge and the instantly recognisable
concrete sails of the Sydney Opera House. Many yachts were sailing on
the harbour. Ferries and other boats were criss-crossing the water.
Paul: << Wow! That didn't take long! >>
They flew over the city. Paul saw the unmistakable buildings of the
city CBD like the Sydney Tower, the MLC building, Grosvenor Place,
Chifley Tower, Aurora Place and Gateway Plaza.
They flew out over Sydney's eastern suburbs. They lingered briefly
over the crowded Bondi Beach. The shallow waters were thick with
swimmers and people just standing in the water enjoying the hot
January afternoon.
Paul had seen enough. Scott detected that and at high speed they
soared high up above the earth's surface until they could see the
whole planet below them.
Paul was overcome by the beauty of his home planet in its blue-green
cloud-bedecked glory hanging in the star-filled blackness of space.
The brown Australian continent with green edgings lay below them
visible in its entirety. The massive, dazzling white spiral of a big
cyclone could be seen in the Indian Ocean between the brown land of
Western Australia and the green emerald islands of the Indonesian
Archipelago.
Paul saw the green cloud-speckled, vaguely bird-shaped island of New
Guinea. That was where Lachlan's Aunt Sybil was planning her
expedition. Paul had looked up Mount Wilhelm in his parents' atlas.
They hung in space while Paul gazed in wonder at his surroundings.
They could see the pock-marked Moon behind them. Scott pointed out
the visible planets, Venus, Mars, Jupiter and Saturn. Mercury was
hidden in the blazing glory of the Sun. Paul was amazed by the sheer
numbers of stars scattered as unblinking points of light on the black
background of deep space. There were many more stars visible than he
had ever seen on Earth. They were surrounded by a myriad stars.
Another swirl of a cyclone or typhoon was visible in the Western
Pacific between the islands of Japan and The Philippines.
The eastern half of the Pacific Ocean was in darkness. Night had
fallen there as it had in both the American Continents.
Scott headed north-east over the Pacific and shortly they were over
the North American continent. The cities of the United States were
ablaze with light. They were like diamonds scattered extravagantly on
black velvet.
Scott made for the concentration of lights in the North-East of the
United States. Very soon they were hovering far above New York.
Scott: << New York's a big city. Where would you like to go? >>
Paul: << Manhattan, I guess. >>
<< Yeah. It's the place everyone thinks of when they think of New
York. >>
Scott plunged down head-first towards the planet in another heart-
stopping dive. He slowed rapidly over the lower Hudson River and Paul
was pressed against Scott's back by the deceleration. Scott swooped
over the water. They passed the Statue of Liberty lit up with many
spotlights and flew slowly over Battery Park. They drifted just above
the skyscrapers. Even though it was close to midnight, the city was a
blaze of light and humming with activity. They passed over the
brightly lit Ground Zero where the remains of the twin towers of the
World Trade Center were being dug up and carted away.
The destruction of the twin towers four months previously was big news
even in Ringtail Springs. Scott remembered well the people in the
town discussing the terrorist attack in horrified tones. All the TV
channels were broadcasting continuous live coverage.
Paul was in Canberra at the time and the capital was in virtual lock-
down for the day.
The mood of the two men was sombre as they passed slowly over the
site.
Paul wanted to see the Empire State Building. Scott found the
building amongst the confusing maze of lights and buildings with a
little telepathic help from some locals. They flew around the famous
building taking in the sight.
Then Paul's attention was attracted by the bright lights of Times
Square. They flew over the square.
Paul wanted to get down onto the ground. Scott pointed out that
because they were naked, they had to get some clothes on. It was a
cold January night in New York, freezing cold by Australian standards.
It was nice and warm inside the air bubble that enclosed them both and
the air still had the aroma of eucalyptus. In any case, they could
not walk the streets naked. Someone was bound to call the cops.
Scott informed Paul about the place in Somewhere Else where Paul could
have his pick of clothes. Scott suggested that Paul wear something
nice and warm as it was very cold on the streets down below. It did
not matter with Scott as he was a superman but he would wear something
for decency's sake.
Scott jumped Somewhere Else or the Place In Between to a place filled
with white light. They separated and floated as if they were in
space. Scott instructed Paul to think of what he wanted to wear and
the clothes would appear before him.
Paul thought a while and clothed himself in a close-fitting white T-
shirt that showed off the massive muscles of his arms and torso, long
underpants, low-slung blue jeans and high-heeled brown leather cowboy
boots with long dark blue socks. He topped it off with an expensive-
looking brown leather bomber jacket with a hood. He also chose a pair
of nice brown leather gloves.
Scott grinned. << Do you need a cowboy hat as well? >>
"Get fucked," replied Paul.
Scott clad himself in tight low-slung faded blue jeans with a shiny
black leather belt, a sleeveless blue tight-fitting hoodie of elastic
material unzipped at the front and shiny calf-length black leather
snake-skin cowboy boots. The hoodie unzipped pulled back far enough
to reveal most of Scott's spectacularly muscular front. The jeans
were low enough to reveal a bit of his pubic hair and the trail of
black curly hair up to his navel.
Paul looked at him. He raised an eyebrow.
"Won't you get cold like that?" he asked.
Scott: << No. I'm a superman, don't forget. I'm impervious to the
cold. >>
Paul remembered he too was a telepath.
<< I wish I could show off my muscles like that and not feel the cold
like you. >>
<< Can be done. I can warm you up so you'll feel nice and toasty for
a while and not feel the cold too. >>
<< Yeah. I'll go with that. >>
Paul took off his bomber jacket and T-shirt leaving his torso bare.
The jacket and shirt promptly disappeared.
He visualised a tight-fitting sleeveless hoodie like the one Scott
wore except it was bright red. It appeared in front of him and he put
it on. He left the front unzipped to display his spectacular large
pectorals and abdominal muscles.
Scott looked at him admiringly. Paul perceived his thoughts. Scott
thought Paul was hot and sexy.
<< Ready, hot stuff? >>
Scott put his hand between the back of Paul's neck and shoulders.
Suddenly a whole lot of heat energy flowed into Paul's body warming
him up nicely. Paul glowed with warmth.
Paul jumped onto Scott's back. Scott held him piggy-back. They
jumped into normal space and floated above Times Square. Scott
searched for a suitable place for them to jump into through hyperspace
so they could reach the ground without attracting too much attention.
He decided to jump into a vacant lift (elevator). He found one at the
top of a tall residential apartment block of about forty floors nearby
and they jumped into it.
As they were travelling down, more people got in. They studiously
avoided looking at the two large young men. They were discomfited by
the young men's massively impressive musculature on display. The lift
travelled down in silence.
They reached the ground floor. Scott and Paul got outside with relief
and found themselves on Broadway.
As Scott had warned Paul, it was very cold outside the building but
Paul did not feel it. They walked briskly along the busy sidewalk to
Times Square.
Times Square was still full of people despite the hour and the cold.
Across the square Paul saw a clock showing that it was just after
midnight. Below it was a temperature gauge showing 27 degrees
(Fahrenheit, -3 degrees C).
Paul: << Bit different from Australia. It's like Canberra overnight
in midwinter. >>
Scott: << Sure is. We get nights like this in Ringtail too in
wintertime occasionally. Remember? >>
Paul felt comforted by Scott's massive presence. They both kept the
front of their hoodies unzipped and their hoods thrown back. People
stared at their massively muscular bodies particularly at Scott's
spectacular ten-pack of abdominal muscles, not to mention his massive
pectorals and huge, thickly muscled arms.
The two men saw a grotesquely obese man as he waddled along munching
into a hamburger. His fat wobbled as he moved. He was wearing a
hoodie that was a bit tight on him.
Paul: << You reckon he's the typical fat American? >>
Scott: << Not really. He's a lot bigger than usual. >>
<< He's huge. I reckon he'd weigh more than you. >>
<< I reckon you'd be right too. He's the end result of ad agencies'
ideal of the perfect consumer. He eats at McDonald's, KFC, Burger
King, Hooters and all that, junk food all the way. It's no wonder
he's as fat as he is. He shops at Kmart, Wal-Mart, Target, Lowe's et
cetera where he buys all the brands he sees on TV. And he's bought an
84-inch flat screen TV for his apartment that he watches cable TV and
DVDs on while stuffing his face and that's most of the time he's not
working. >>
Paul: << What a pathetic existence! Do you reckon you could do
anything with him? >>
<< It would be a challenge, but yes, I could. I'd have to motivate
him somehow, like show him a much better way of living. And train him
up to be a superman. It's certainly possible; anything is possible.
You by comparison, Paul, are a gift, a dream run. And you're
tremendously sexy into the bargain. >>
<< Thanks, mate. >> <+ An image of Scott trying to have anal
intercourse with the fat man; that was accompanied by a feeling of
revulsion. +>
Scott: << I guess I'd have to be ready to take on anything. I'd do it
if I have to. I'd have to be prepared to take on the fat, the ugly,
the difficult as well as the sexy, the muscular, the beautiful. >>
They circumnavigated the square taking in all the lights and other
sights. Paul was busy rubbernecking and taking it all in while people
stared at Scott. Scott linked his mind up with Paul's and was taking
it in through Paul's eyes as well as his own. He shared his
perceptions with Paul.
They walked down one of the streets leading off Times Square and
looked at all the shops.
At the entrance to an alleyway Paul decided to go down it to the other
end. They walked down into it.
By now Paul was deeply in love with Scott whom he saw as his own
private god. He put his arm around Scott's waist under Scott's
hoodie. He delighted in the warmth of the living flesh that he held.
He could feel the warmth flowing from Scott's body into his own
chasing the cold away. He kept unzipped the front of his hoodie. It
showed off the thick powerful musculature of his chest and abdomen.
Scott put his arm around Paul's shoulders affectionately. They walked
down the alley. They felt that the moment was blessed.
A cry rang out behind them. "Lookit them faggots. Get 'em."
Paul and Scott whirled around. They saw a gang of youths charging
towards them. Scott had his senses including his telepathic sense on
full alert. He quickly assessed the situation and tried to pass his
perceptions to Paul.
Paul exploded into a furious hate-filled rage. He was enraged by
these interlopers destroying the blessed moment. He was infuriated by
these damnable would-be gay-bashers wanting to beat them both up.
Three of the bigger youths charged at him. One of the older youths, a
big muscular young man, aimed a high kick at Paul's head. Paul
knocked the foot aside. He drew his right fist back and punched the
youth's head with all the power of his mighty body. The youth's skull
exploded in a shower of blood and brains. His eyes popped out of
their sockets and hung by the optic nerves. His nose was squashed
into his face which was smashed beyond all recognition.
The other youth charged at Paul only to get hit in the face with
another of Paul's fearsome punches. The lower half of the youth's
face shattered, the nose was mashed into the cheeks, teeth flew in all
directions and the lower jaw smashed like glass.
The third youth saw what was happening and ran away in horror.
Meanwhile Scott was shoving the youths over onto their backs with a
big hand on their chest or over their face. The more aggressive
youths he slapped down with open-handed slaps across their cheeks. He
was cuffing those youths like an angry grizzly bear cuffing very
naughty cubs. He weighed about as much as a grizzly bear. The force
of his slaps threw the youths to the ground where they lay with their
heads in their hands whimpering with the stinging pain.
The youths who had been pushed or knocked over by Scott scrambled to
their feet and ran away eager to escape the wrath of the angry bear of
a man.
When the others saw the rapid demolition of their numbers, they hung
back fearfully except for one big muscular youth who foolishly decided
to tackle Paul. Paul saw him and went for him like an angry tiger.
The only black man in the gang, a big strongly-built young man, tried
to pull out a semi-automatic hand gun from the pocket of his hoodie.
It became stuck. The man wasted a second or two struggling to extract
it. He succeeded and he aimed it at Paul. Scott saw him and charged
him. The man saw Scott coming at him and fired off three quick shots
at him. The bullets ricocheted off Scott's invulnerable body and
screamed off into the distance. One smashed a window in a nearby
building.
Paul was distracted by the shots. He had the youth by the throat and
was about to smash his fist into the youth's face. His face was
twisted into an angry snarl. He turned around to see what happening.
The youth he had seized started screaming. He was white with fear.
He realised he was on his own.
"Please don't hit me," he screamed. "Please don't."
Scott grabbed the black man's wrist with a vice-like grip. With a
small force field he stopped all nerve conduction in the arm from the
shoulder down. The arm went limp and lost all feeling.
"I'll have that," said Scott as he quickly removed the gun from the
man's nerveless hand and stuffed it into the pocket of his tight
jeans.
The black man stared at Scott open-mouthed with amazement as he held
his arm. It tingled painfully as feeling and movement surged back
into it.
Scott saw Paul still had the big youth by the throat. Again Paul's
mouth was drawn back into a fearful snarl and he had his fist drawn
back ready to smash the youth's face.
Scott heard the youth screaming with terror. He saw his eyes wide
open with the whites showing. He saw a patch of wetness spreading
over the front of the youth's jeans.
He raced over, grabbed Paul by the scruff of his neck and yanked him
backwards.
"Stop that now," he shouted at Paul, who dropped the youth he was
holding and stared at Scott.
The youth fell back onto his butt but scrambled to his feet in a hurry
and scuttled off to join his buddies.
Scott held Paul by the scruff of his neck and pointed to the two
youths that Paul had punched so fiercely. They were lying motionless
on the ground with smashed faces.
"Look at the damage you've done," he almost shouted. "You don't know
your own strength. You are 365 pounds of raging fury. You're all
solid hard muscle. You are extremely strong. Your fists are lethal
weapons now. They're like jack-hammers with all that muscle driving
them."
He sighed gustily.
Three of the younger gang members had seen their two smashed mates and
were leaning against a wall spewing their guts out.
Scott continued, fixing Paul with a hard look. "I'd better do
something about these fellows now. The one with the mashed brains is
bloody near dead. And you've got his brains dripping from your
fists."
Paul looked at Scott. His eyes became big with regret. He suddenly
realised that he had lost his telepathic sense in his fury. He could
perceive nothing with his mind. He was back to utterly normal except
for his massively powerful body. His eyes filled with tears.
Scott ignored him. He knelt down at the head of the first youth with
the smashed skull and the eyeballs hanging loose on the mashed remains
of the youth's face. The youth looked like someone had smashed him in
the face with a 100-pound sledgehammer. His head looked like a
squashed watermelon. Scott put his hands next to the youth's head.
He perceived that the youth's life force was guttering like a candle
just about to go out. The young man was truly a very few minutes from
death.
Scott focussed. He perceived Thanatos, the Angel of Death hovering
over the dying youth.
Scott: << He can be saved, can't he? >>
Thanatos: << If you say so. You are the one to decide that. >>
Scott: << What do you think? >>
Thanatos: << Don't ask me. I don't make these decisions. I just take
those who are dead before the Lord Jesus Christ for judgement. This
man is very close to death. You decide whether to save this man or
not. You're the human. I'll accept whatever you do. >>
Scott felt the awful weight of responsibility on his shoulders. He
himself was immortal and he knew it. But he felt strongly that the
youth deserved another chance.
He perceived the youth's ghost hovering nearby.
<< I don't want to die >> wailed the youth's ghost soundlessly.
Scott made his decision to save him from death.
Jesus appeared next to Thanatos.
Jesus: << Scott, you may do it only with My permission and that of My
Father. Normally resurrections are not permitted. >>
Scott: << But he's not dead yet. May I please? >>
Jesus laughed. << You put a good case. True, the young man is not
quite dead. >>
The youth's ghost fell to its knees.
<< Please Lord Jesus, let me be saved. I don't want to die. >> it
pleaded.
Jesus looked at Scott. << Yes, Scott, you may save him. I'll make an
exception in this case. A demonstration of your powers may encourage
these young men to come and serve My Father and Me and become supermen
like you. However, you will need help. >>
He looked at the youth's ghost.
<< It would be good, Leroy, if you could serve My Father the Lord God
and Me. I call all humans to come and serve Us. That includes you,
Leroy, and all your friends."
A horde of angels appeared. They clustered around the dying youth's
body. Scott found himself directing them as they repaired and healed
the damage to the head.
Paul and the gang members gathered around watching. Scott started
glowing with a bright bluish white light. It looked like he was
glowing from within. Not only that but he was emitting a bright
purplish blue aura shot with moving pink and gold stripes as he
focused energy into the healing process. The light was bright enough
to illuminate the surrounding youths.
"What's happening?" asked the black man. "What are those little spots
of light buzzing around Leroy? Why is that giant muscle man with the
freaky huge arms glowing like he's radioactive?"
"Yeah, I can see them spots of light too. What are they?" asked
another gang member.
"I can't see nuttin' but the big guy is glowing all right. He's like
the Incredible Hulk," said a third. "What's going on?"
"I can't see nuttin' too," announced a fourth.
"I see dose itty-bitty spots of light too," said a fifth.
He turned to Paul and asked him, "You know what dey is? What's
'appening?"
Paul could see Scott kneeling with his big hands holding the dying
youth's smashed head. He could see the aura surrounding Scott. But
he could not see the moving spots of light.
"Dunno," replied Paul curtly.
He realised that Scott was exerting his divine superhuman powers and
decided to say nothing. He knew that he had angered Scott by losing
his temper so comprehensively and smashing up the two youths in his
furious rage. And he had lost his telepathic sense. He looked down
at his hands and saw they were covered in blood and had bits of brain
and bone stuck to them. He felt so stupid and unworthy and dirty.
His eyes filled with tears again.
The gang member talking to him looked at him with amazement. He
stared at the big dark blue hickey on Paul's neck.
Paul turned away and pulled his hood over his head. He moved to the
back of the group. Some of the gang members turned around, looked at
him and whispered among themselves. Paul realised that they were
afraid of him, of his enormous strength and his skull-smashing
punches.
Scott concentrated on the angels healing the youth. Paul could look
after himself for the moment.
The gang members stood back at a respectful distance from Scott and
the two unconscious youths. They watched. They could not see Jesus
and the angelic beings. They could only see Scott brightly glowing
and kneeling with his hands around the head of the dying youth. Some
of those present could see the healing angels as little moving points
of light like dust motes.
Thanatos disappeared. There was no longer any need for his presence.
The other youth smashed up by Paul was in no immediate danger of dying
but he needed urgent surgery to reconstruct his face.
Jesus: << You are doing a good job, Scott. I'll leave you to it. >>
With that he faded from Scott's view. As Scott was the only
superhuman present, only he could perceive Jesus, Thanatos, the
healing angels in their full form and the youth's ghost.
The ghost remained. The angels continued their work.
The dying youth's head reformed from a shape like a squashed
watermelon back to its original shape. His eyeballs moved back into
their sockets. His eyelids closed over them. His face returned to
its previous appearance as the bone structure regained its earlier
form.
The gang members gasped when they saw all that happening. It was
miraculous.
Some of the angels performed the tricky task of rebuilding the youth's
brain. His heart beat strongly again. The angels restarted the
youth's brain like a computer that had undergone major repairs. They
gave the cue to Scott.
Scott invited the youth's ghost to come over and merge back into his
body that awaited him.
The ghost did so under guidance. It took control of the youth's brain
as it stirred into action. His eyelids flickered open.
Scott removed his hands from around the youth's head and leant back.
His aura faded.
The youth stirred. He moved. He started to sit up.
The gang members cheered loudly.
"Leroy, he's come back," yelled one.
"Great!" yelled another. "He's all fixed up now. It's a goddam
miracle!"
Scott rose smoothly off his knees to his feet. The youth Leroy got to
his feet rather unsteadily. Scott helped him up.
Leroy hugged Scott. His eyes filled with tears.
"Thank you. Thank you so much, sir," he said. "You know, sir, I saw
Jesus."
"Yes, I know," replied Scott.
"Yeah, you saw him too. Of course, sir. You talked to him too."
The black man came up. "I didn't hear anything," he said puzzled.
"Otis, I saw Jesus too. I talked to Him. He said this man could save
me," Leroy said to the black man while he put his hand on Scott's
shoulder.
Leroy addressed his buddies. "Guys, I saw Jesus. I tell you, I saw
Jesus. And He called me by name. And He told me He wants us all to
come and serve Him and His Father the Lord God. And I saw a whole lot
of angels too. They put my head back together."
The gang members stared at him. They did not know what to make of it.
Leroy turned to Scott. "Sir, who was that with Jesus?" he asked.
"That kinda spirit."
"That was Thanatos, the Angel of Death," replied Scott.
"Why did he go away? Did Jesus tell him to go?"
"No. He left because there was no longer any need for him to be here.
He came because you were dying. When you were being saved, there was
no point in him hanging around."
Leroy hugged Scott once more.
"Who are you? What are you?" Otis asked Scott. "And what about my
rod? I promise I won't use it."
"Questions can wait, Otis," replied Scott. "I've got work to do."
In two strides Scott went to the other youth. He knelt down at the
youth's head and put his hands either side of it. He started glowing
again. His aura fired up once more as brightly as it did before. The
healing angels went to work rebuilding the youth's face.
The gang members were fascinated by the process of the unconscious
youth's face apparently rebuilding itself under the guidance of the
huge muscle man glowing with some kind of energy. They gathered
around to watch.
"Christ! He's a real mess. Who did that?" asked Leroy.
"The big blond guy," replied Billy, another of the gang members. "You
should've seen the mess he made of you, buddy. He must be hell strong
with those huge muscles of his. You looked like you got hit by a Mack
truck. Your head was squashed flat."
"Where is the big blond guy?"
Billy shrugged.
"Dunno," he replied. "He like disappeared when that big guy with the
mega muscles," indicating Scott, "got mad at him for messing up you
and Cal big time. That big guy rescued Wes in the nick of time. The
blond guy was about to smash him up too. I tell you, that big blond
guy's so fucking dangerous. He's like a raging bull. I tell you, Wes
was so scared he peed himself."
"Weren't some of you guys going for that big guy with Cal right now?"
asked Leroy.
"Yeah, we did, but he slapped us down like we're little kids. Jesus
Christ, it fucking hurt real bad. I never been slapped down like that
since my dad slapped me down when I was a little kid."
Billy showed Leroy the red handprint on his cheek.
He continued. "I tell you. That big guy was laying about him like a
big angry grizzly bear. He was slapping us down and pushing us over
like we're just little kids."
"Jesus," said Otis, "I didn't know those two guys could put up such a
fight. I thought they'd be just ordinary faggots with muscles just
for show. Like they got freaky huge muscles and would be weak as
kittens 'cos their muscles are just pumped up with oil or something."
Billy grinned ruefully. "And Christ, it fucking hurt when that guy
hit me!"
"There's something weird about that super big guy with Cal right now,"
said Otis. "Like when I shot him, the bullets just bounced off him
and one went through a window. And when he grabbed my wrist, my whole
arm went numb and I couldn't move it or anything like it was paralysed
and he just took my rod like taking candy from a baby. And look at
him glowing like that. And he's so huge and freaky. I never seen
arms like he's got, not even in muscle magazines."
Otis paused.
He went on. "I'm just thinking if the big guy looking after Cal can
make other guys' muscles grow big too. I figure he could've made the
blond guy's muscles grow real big but the blond guy's not used to how
strong he is, like I guess that's why he made such a mess of Cal and
you, Leroy. He doesn't know how strong he is."
"Yeah, I guess that's it," said Billy. "That's why the big guy with
the curly black hair just smacked us around but didn't break anything
'cos he knows how strong he is but the blond guy smashed up Leroy and
Cal 'cos he doesn't know how strong he is."
A light came on in Leroy's brain.
"Like the guy fixin' Cal can make a guy's muscles grow real big too,"
he said excitedly. "That's what he did to the blond guy. Wow! You
reckon I could get him to do that to me? Geez, it'd be real fantastic
to have muscles like that."
Billy grinned broadly.
"God, Leroy, you could be onto something."
Otis was thoughtful. The implications were enormous.
"Yeah, you could be too," he said. "You could ask him."
Scott was telepathically aware of all that was going on around him
even though he was guiding and helping with the healing process of the
youth Cal's head. Paul had gone to the back of the group and he could
not see what Scott was doing. He was sullen and miserable. The cold
was starting to get to him. He had lost his telepathic sense and he
felt the loss keenly. He had come to enjoy being telepathic. He
revelled in feeling Scott's love. Now he had no idea of what was
going on but he knew that Scott was displeased with him for losing his
temper. Scott would let him stew a little while longer.
It was not much longer before the angels finished their work and Cal's
face was fully healed. They made some minor but necessary repairs to
his unconscious brain and restarted it. Then they departed.
It appeared to Scott that they shrank in size until they vanished out
of sight. However he knew that it was a trick of hyperspatial
perspective. The angels were returning to Heaven.
Cal opened his eyes. He sat up slowly and looked around. He saw his
buddies gathered around him. He looked around saw the huge muscle guy
with the black curly hair kneeling behind him.
His buddies cheered.
"He's OK," cried one.
"What happened?" asked Cal.
"You got hit," replied Scott with a wry smile.
"How?"
"Think about it."
Cal thought about it. Suddenly the memory came back of the big blond
guy grabbing him by the throat and snarling at him furiously. Cal
remembered the guy's fist smashing into his face, the terrible pain
and then nothing. It was the blond guy's left fist that hit him. Cal
did not see it coming until the last instant.
"Where is he now, the guy that hit me?" he asked.
"He's around," replied Scott.
"Will I be OK with him?"
"I don't reckon you guys are going to pick another fight with us.
He'll behave himself or else."
Cal started to clamber unsteadily to his feet. Scott rose up off his
knees and helped him up.
Leroy came up and hugged Scott.
"Thank you, sir, for saving me and Cal," he said. "Thank you so much.
I'm so grateful."
"No worries," replied Scott. "That's quite alright."
"Look, sir, I'm kinda thinking. Did you make that blond guy's muscles
grow real big?"
"Yeah," said Scott slowly.
"Do you reckon, sir, you could make my muscles grow real big and
strong like him?"
"I could, Leroy. I could indeed. But right now I'm busy with my
current trainee, the blond guy. He's a handful, he's a real tiger
with an explosive temper and he has a lot to learn. It's not just
growing big muscles and that's it. There are a lot of things you got
to learn."
"So there's more to it?"
"Yes, most definitely. Jesus wants all of us humans to come and serve
Him and the Lord God in Heaven. That's what He told you. That's the
deal. Muscles and strength come with it if that's what you want."
"Yeah, I do want the muscles and all that."
"Understand me, Leroy. You can't just grow big muscles and that's it.
There's a lot more to it than that."
"Can I do it? Can you do it with me, sir? Please, sir? Can you
teach me what to do sir?"
"Like I told you, I'm busy with my current trainee."
Scott appeared to be thinking hard for a few seconds. He reached out
into the telepathic net for information. He wanted to know if there
was a local community house with superhumans who could train up Leroy
and his friends. The information came back. A business card appeared
in Somewhere Else. Scott reached there and brought the card into the
pocket of his hoodie. There he duplicated it into a number of copies.
He pulled one of the cards out and handed it to Leroy.
"Go and check this place out," he said. "It's not far from here.
There'll be people there who could help you out. They could train you
up to become a superman like me."
Leroy's eyes glowed with delight as he scanned the card.
"Yes, sir, I'll go do it."
Billy came and got a card too. He was enthusiastic about becoming a
superman.
Some of the others came up to Scott as well and Scott gave them a
card.
Paul realised that something was happening and shouldered his way
through the pack. The gang members parted before him as if he were a
tiger. They treated him with great respect like he was a dangerous
wild animal.
He came up before Scott and hung his head. He looked up at Scott with
big tear-filled eyes.
"Scott, I've lost my telepathy," he said. "And I'm cold."
"Well, mate, I'll just have to fuck you again," replied Scott with a
grin. He put his arms around Paul and pulled him into a big warming
hug.
The gang members stared at Scott and Paul with astonishment.
Otis pushed in.
"What do you mean, you have to fuck him again?" he demanded to know.
"And what is telepathy? Does that mean you can read minds?"
"Peace, Otis," said Scott with a smile. "Yes, I can read minds and I
can do a whole lot more besides. When someone like me fucks a guy,
the guy being fucked has a humungous great orgasm and his brain flips
into an excited state. Then I can reach into his mind and switch on
his telepathic sense. He becomes a telepath, a mind-reader if you
like, but that is unstable. If he has a strong negative emotion like
he flies into a rage like this man did, he loses his telepathic sense.
When someone becomes a telepath, like when I fuck him, it puts him on
the fast track to learn all the stuff that he has to know to do what I
can."
"Who are you? What are you?" asked Otis.
"I was just an ordinary guy like you up until not that long ago, Otis.
Since then I've learnt a lot of things. I've picked up a lot of
knowledge and as well, I've pledged to serve the Lord God. In return
He has granted me a whole lot of super powers and made me a superman.
So you can say I am a superman now."
"Yeah, you look like Superman," chimed in Billy.
Otis looked at Billy with a raised eyebrow. Billy looked back coolly.
He did not care. He had already made up his mind to become a
superman.
Otis turned back to Scott.
"So I can become a superman too? Like you?"
"Yes, Otis, you can," replied Scott. "Any human can. We humans are
hardwired for that, if you like."
"Um, yeah. About my rod, can I have it back? Please?"
Scott extracted the gun from the pocket of his tight jeans. He hefted
it in his hand then examined it with his cryptoscopic sense.
"Nice gun," he commented. "Very nice indeed. Laser sight and all.
21 bullets in the magazine. A very effective killing machine and it's
almost new, hardly used."
Scott paused as he downloaded the gun's history from the telepathic
net. He looked at Otis with a raised eyebrow.
"And, Otis," he continued, "you paid twenty bucks for it."
"How come you know?" demanded Otis.
Scott looked at him with a wry smile.
Otis looked sheepish for an instant. Then he answered his own
question.
"Yeah, course, you're a mind reader, a telepath."
"It came with a silencer attached. What did you do with it?"
"I took it off. It was too big to fit in my pocket."
Scott smiled. "Yeah. You know something else, Otis? These guns cost
eleven hundred bucks new. This one's hardly been used. Ever wondered
how you got it so cheap?"
Otis stared at Scott. He wondered what was coming.
Scott continued relentlessly. "Can you remember the person who sold
it to you? Can you give a description of him or her?"
Otis shook his head.
"Not even a glimmer?" asked Scott. "Your life may depend on it."
Otis looked at Scott.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean what I just said. Try. What did the person look like?"
Otis thought hard.
"It was a guy, I think," he said hesitantly. "He had a hat on and he
had on an overcoat, gray or brown, I don't remember. I can't remember
much else."
"Not a good description, Otis. Not much for the police to go on."
"The police?! Whaddaya mean?"
The other gang members watched the unfolding drama avidly. Even Paul
took an interest.
"There's a fairly good chance, Otis, that the police will catch you
with this gun," said Scott. "Do you know what'll be one of the first
things they'll do with it? They'll run a ballistics check on it. And
pay-off time! Big pay-off time! Game, set and match."
Otis stared at Scott. Fear stirred within him.
"What?" he asked anxiously.
Scott continued. "This handgun belonged to a professional killer
highly skilled at his job and also in covering his tracks. He's been
in the game quite a few years. The man you bought it from, well I
think it's a man, it's hard to tell, he, or maybe she, was some kind
of go-between, I guess somewhere down the food chain. It doesn't
matter if the police grab him or her. They won't get far.
Anyway, the previous owner has killed a lot of people not just with
this gun but with lots of guns. When a gun gets hot, he gets rid of
it through a chain of go-betweens. That means the gun can never be
traced back to him.
Ever heard of the Midland murders in the dry country in the west of
Texas? Nine people died then. It happened a bit over a year ago.
The whole of Texas was in an uproar because the mayor and other
important people in the city were assassinated. In fact the whole
South was in an uproar. Every politician you could imagine put in his
two cents worth for the media. There was public outrage.
The killer was very efficient. One bullet to the head and that was
it. The killer did not waste bullets. Just one shot killed. And he
picked up the spent cartridge cases and disposed of them in people's
trash cans. No fingerprints, no traces, nothing to be found.
The families and friends of the murder victims are screaming for
justice and they have political connections. The political pressure
is seriously on to solve these murders and quickly and it's coming
from the state governor on down. It's been over a year since these
murders were committed. People are getting impatient and the police
there are desperate for a resolution. In fact the sheriff and his
crew would do just about anything to catch and convict the
perpetrator.
OK, then, the police here in New York pick up some young black guy
carrying the gun that killed the people in Midland. The bullets fired
from the guy's gun match the bullets taken from the corpses and the
police can prove it. Breakthrough? Yes! A big yes!
And guess what? That guy happens to be you. After a brief
extradition hearing here you get shipped off to Texas to face trial
for the Midland murders. But you didn't do it. I know you didn't do
it. But can you prove that to the court when you've been caught red-
handed with the murder weapon? It's going to be hard. Very hard.
Can you afford a top-notch defence attorney? You're certainly going
to need one and they don't come cheap. Anything but. And the
presumption of your innocence is going to go out the window."
Otis shook his head.
"No," he said. "No way."
"OK. So you get a court-appointed lawyer who may not be competent to
defend you. That's tough. For starters, can you remember what you
were doing on the night of Friday the 13th of October, 2000 when the
murders took place?"
Otis looked stunned.
"No," he said.
"Think hard, Otis. Your life may depend upon it."
"Hanging out with the guys I guess."
"Can you prove that?" asked Scott.
He looked around at the gang members surrounding him.
"Can any of you remember what Otis was doing back on the night of
Friday the 13th of October, 2000?" he asked them.
Some of the gang shook their heads. The rest looked at Scott blankly.
Scott looked back at Otis.
"Tough call, that," he said.
He continued. "So you're a young black guy taking his chances with
the Texas justice system such as it is. You've got a court-appointed
defence attorney who wouldn't know his arsehole from his earhole and
he doesn't care that much about defending you. You got caught by the
New York police with the murder weapon in your possession. You don't
have an alibi that'll stand up. As far as the jury is concerned,
that's enough, that's it. Done deal. They say you did it. The judge
agrees. He's pushed the jury towards a guilty verdict. He has to,
because if you get acquitted, he won't get re-elected at the next
election. And neither will the sheriff.
What motive could you possibly have for killing the six men and three
women in Midland, Texas? Why would you travel there from New York to
kill them? How did you get the money to travel there? Dunno. No-one
cares. You're obviously not a professional killer but the killings
were clearly carried out by a professional. Doesn't matter. You're a
young black guy with very little money. And you stand accused of
killing nine white people. In people's eyes you're the bad guy.
You've been demonised by the media. You're extremely wicked and you
are supposed to have committed terrible crimes. What chance does a
black guy like you have against the Texas justice system? The system
is loaded against you from the start. Yes, you didn't do it but
you'll do nicely as the scapegoat.
The way those people think, black people have got to stay in their
place. They're not allowed to kill white people but it's OK for white
people to kill black people according to the bullshit divine pseudo-
Christian order they believe in. It is 'divine' bullshit and if you
pledge yourself to serve God, He will confirm that Himself.
You get convicted and the judge sentences you to death. Everybody's
happy. Everyone rejoices because they have closure. They get the
closure they so desperately want. You took your chance with the
justice system in that part of Texas and you lost and it is going to
cost you your life.
You get carted off to Death Row where you spend the remaining few
years of your life. Then the day comes for your execution by lethal
injection. You get put down like a stray dog nobody wants.
And the sobbing members of the victims' families tell the TV cameras
that their dear departed loved ones will find peace at last. Those
who call themselves victims, the loved ones and families of the murder
victims are all really happy despite the tearful performances they put
on for the TV cameras. They have got their sacrificial victim, their
human sacrifice who's an innocent man slaughtered like an animal by
the State of Texas on their behalf. That's you, Otis,
And all the pseudo-Christians thank whatever bullshit tin god they
worship so piously in their churches for the 'justice' that put an
innocent man to death.
What a load of bullshit! What absolute hypocrisy! What a media
circus it would be! And you're dead.
Trouble is, you didn't do it. Even worse, you sacrifice your life so
the professional killer who killed the nine people in Midland can
continue his evil ways and kill a whole lot more people."
Scott looked at Otis as he tossed the gun up and down in his hand.
"Still want this gun?" he asked. "If you become a superman like me,
you certainly won't need it."
"Er... er..."
"OK, Otis, I'll make up your mind for you. I'm going to make this
burning hot gun disappear and you will be safe."
Scott tossed the gun up into air and it vanished with a loud pop.
The youths looked up and gaped. So did Paul. He felt keenly the loss
of his telepathic sense. He would love to know what Scott did and how
he did it.
"Where's it gone, sir?" asked Leroy.
"Nowhere," replied Scott. "It's gone. It doesn't exist anymore."
"Wow, freaky!" exclaimed Billy.
Scott then pulled out the remaining cards he had in the pocket of his
hoodie and handed them around the youths as they all clustered around
him. They were very interested as they scanned the cards now in their
hands.
"Just wondering, sir," said Leroy. "Do you know who the professional
killer is, the one who committed the Midland murders?"
"I don't myself," replied Scott. "I don't need to know and I don't
particularly want to know. But there are people who know who he is
and they're out to get him, legally if possible. Coming up with proof
that'll stand up in court is quite another matter. So far they don't
have any legal proof. The killer is very, very cunning. They're just
going to have to wait until he plans another killing then spring the
trap on him. They won't be able to pin the Midland murders on him
though and the same with the other killings. They know he did it but
they can't prove it in court. One of the problems of being a
telepath."
Scott turned to Paul.
"OK, mate, the time has come for us to go," he said. "But first we'd
better get all that blood and stuff on your hands cleaned up."
He took Paul's hands in his own and looked at them.
"Look at all this crap," he commented. "Blood and bits of Leroy's
brain and bits of his skull. Just as well the angels are so good at
rebuilding brains and stuff. In fact Leroy's brain is better that it
was before. It's the new improved version."
Everyone turned and looked at Leroy who stood there with his hands
thrust into his pockets.
"Are you saying Leroy's a genius now?" asked Billy.
"Dunno," replied Scott with a grin. "It's too early to tell. But he
could be, especially if he becomes a superman like me."
Otis looked at Leroy with a troubled expression. He was wondering if
Leroy would be a threat to his leadership.
Scott read his thoughts.
"Mind you, you all could become supermen and that would be great," he
said. "And you could become members of the Roadknights Motor Cycle
Club into the bargain."
The youths stared at Scott.
"Like for real?" asked Cal.
"Yep."
"So supermen can join the Roadknights?"
"Yep. Ever wondered why the Roadknights are so muscly and tough?
They're all supermen. And you could be too."
"Wow!"
The thought appealed to the youths. They really liked the idea of
becoming big, really tough and muscular bikers who were feared by the
outlaw motorcycle gang members and who had the freedom to ride
anywhere they liked on their big powerful motorbikes. It was such an
utterly masculine idea.
Otis realised that the implication of what Scott was saying was that
Otis's position as leader of the gang was likely to become irrelevant
if all the members became supermen. And Otis was sure that Leroy,
Billy, Cal and many of the others were set in their aim to be trained
up as supermen.
Scott turned to Paul.
"OK, let's clean you up," he said.
He let go of Paul's hands and held them in place with a force field.
He created two small balls of flickering lightning around the hands.
Paul tried to move them but he could not. His big muscles strained.
"God, that tickles," he remarked wriggling his body. "I'm tingling
all over."
After about half a minute the lightning balls vanished with a pop.
Scott picked up Paul's hands and looked at them.
"Nice and clean," he commented with a smile. "They would stand the
sternest inspection, even from your mother."
"That was agony," said Paul. "I felt like I was being tickled all
over."
"You looked like you were enjoying it," remarked Billy.
"Fuck off!" said Paul.
Scott looked at Billy and laughed. He licked his index finger and
held it up.
"Good one, Billy," he said with a grin.
He peeled off his hoodie and handed it to Cal who accepted it and put
it on. It was a loose fit even though Cal was big and strongly built.
"Wow, thanks," said Cal.
Scott stood in the middle of the gang with his magnificently muscular
naked torso on full display.
The youths gaped at him, eyes wide with admiration.
"Wow, that's freaky," said Billy. "I never seen such huge muscles
like that before."
"Fuck! That guy's real freaky. He's fucking huge," commented a
youth.
"Yeah, I never seen muscles like that, not even in the muscle
magazines," said Otis. "You're even bigger than the Incredible Hulk.
Where're you gonna go?"
"I'm going to take this man off somewhere else," said Scott.
Scott pinged Paul's brain with a telepathic cue. Paul took off his
red hoodie and gave it to Leroy who was effusive in his thanks. Leroy
put the jacket on and wore it proudly even though it was a little
loose on him.
Paul apologised to Leroy for hitting him so hard. They shook hands.
He also apologised to Cal and shook hands with him.
The youths stared admiringly at Paul's magnificent torso and huge arms
thick with hard bulging muscle.
"God, he's nearly as big as the superman," commented one.
Scott addressed the assembled youths.
"Fellas, we're about to head off. You've all seen my super powers.
Please do not say anything about them to anyone else for two reasons.
First, no-one is going to believe you. Hard-boiled reporters and
policemen and so on are just going to say you're a bunch of kids in a
street gang and you made it all up or you're all hallucinating 'cos
you're all on drugs or I've hypnotised you all or some other bullshit
explanation. Second, it's open to you all to get trained up and
become supermen yourselves. I've given all of you the contact
details. If you go blabbing to people, hard questions will be asked
about whether you can be trusted to receive superpowers."
Scott turned to Paul.
"OK, cobber, let's go."
"Are you guys Australian?" asked Otis.
"Yeah," replied Scott with a broad grin.
"I figured as much from your accent."
Scott bent his knees and leant forward. He looked at Paul who took
the cue. Paul jumped on Scott's back and Scott held him piggy-back.
"Hopefully I'll see all you guys again in better circumstances," said
Scott. "Bye for now."
With Paul on his back Scott flew up high into the air. The youths
craned their necks upward and stared up after them until they were
lost from sight above the surrounding buildings.
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Continued in Part 70.
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