The Last Slice

Every once in a while, I post on Facebook something to the effect of - "FIRST FIVE PEOPLE TO LIKE THIS STATUS WILL HAVE A STORY WRITTEN ABOUT THEM!" followed by some random prompts, off the top of my head.

This time, it was superheroes, and heartburn. It took me almost a month, but I finally have finished a short story based on that concept, starring five of my friends - one of whom is, believe it or not, Script (Global Moderator team leader) himself!

So sit back, enjoy. I'll be posting this in parts.

---

THE LAST SLICE


"Tensions rise within the Infinity Five - over much more than the last slice of pizza."


I wasn’t sure if the place was packed because Trennorville’s Infinity Five had decided to stop by for lunch, or if we had stopped by because it was packed. Either way, five “gifted” young adults dressed in outlandish costumes sat around a rounded table, enjoying the weather, and each other’s company.

And the pizza. Holy cow. It was Australian in recipe, I guess, but so delicious. Crunchy crust. Perfect pepperoni. Absolutely to die for.

And there was only one slice left.

“Man, that was really good,” Ben began, patting his stomach. He used his other hand to clean his teeth with one of his shuriken.

“Didn’t think I’d like it, or whatever, but it’s pretty good,” Kristen set her dull yellow glass down with a thump. Her eyes were bright and alert on the last slice of pizza.

“Me neither,” I used the pretense of adjusting my chair to scoot closer to the table.

“We had to come check it out eventually. Can’t avoid hearing about it,” Sam shuffled through his deck of throwing cards. He began dealing them by suit on the table, taking care to snap each card as he released it. He was shooting furtive glances as the last slice of pizza from below the brim of his top hat.

Jordan did not say a word. He was hunched over the table, fingers laced together, brows furrowed - quiet as always. He made no pretense about staring at the last slice of pizza.

It was time to state the painfully obvious.

“Does anyone want that?” I asked in an offhand manner, pointing at the last slice.

All eyes locked on me.

“I’ll take it, if no one else wants it,” Kristen said, as though doing us a great favor. She reached forward.

“Well, if you’re full...” Ben lowered his shuriken.

“Here, let’s do it fairly!” Sam cut in, and we all looked at him expectantly. He collected his cards in one grand sweep, then fanned them out face-down for all of us to see. “Just pick a card, and--”

“I’ll vacuum for a week!” Kristen challenged.

I smirked. “You mean another you will vacuum for a week.”

“You’re tiny, you don’t need food,” Jordan said quietly to Kristen. He then patted his stomach. “I, on the other hand, am a growing boy.”

Ben snorted. “Growing boy? You’re dead, dude, what are you gonna do with nutrients?”

“For the last time!” Jordan’s expression darkened. He leaned closer to the table. “I am not dead. I am undead. There is a big difference.”

“Riiiiight.”

“Whatever, man,” Jordan folded his arms over his broad chest, nodding at the throwing star in Ben’s hand. “Just go on throwing your little ninja star things”

Ben scowled. “They’re not ninja star things. They’re called shuriken, and they are deadly instruments of--”

“Wow, sorry,” Jordan raised his hands in mock repentance, “don’t get your scarf in a twist.”

“It’s not a scarf!” Ben hissed.

Until then, we had just sat quietly while the volley of verbal darts had been passed, but now we took the time to consider the piece of fabric wrapped around Ben’s neck. It was kinda bunched up like a forward hood, but it definitely had tails hanging from the back.

“Is it not?” Sam asked, mildly.

“It certainly seems very scarf-like,” was my helpful contribution.

When Ben got worked up, he turned into a tightly compacted ball of energy. He crossed his arms and rolled around in his seat, giving us all looks of death. The shuriken he had been toying with was now clenched firmly in his grip.

“Okay. Fine!” his words were short, clipped. He gestured sharply at the last slice of pizza. “Want it? Take it.”

“Hallelujah,” Jordan gave a dramatic sigh of relief, reaching forward for the piece.

Faster than any eye could follow, Ben lashed out and stabbed the point of his shuriken directly through the back of Jordan’s palm, rooting his hand to the table.

Where any other human being would have screamed bloody murder at the object fully jabbed into their hand, Jordan simply paused, and stared at it minutely.

“Okay,” our bruiser said in his dangerously quiet voice. “That’s just not nice.”

Jordan ripped the star from his palm and flung it away. I heard it clattering along the ground. Some patrons turned and looked at us with curious eyes.

“You think that’s funny?” Jordan sidestepped the table, coming around to where Ben sat, smirking. It was only then that I appreciated how scary Jordan really could be. “You think that’s funny?”

“A little, yeah!” Ben’s arms were still folded across his chest. His chin jutted out, proudly.

Jordan’s fists were balled. He loomed over Ben.

“I mean,” Ben’s voice was offhand, but his intentions were precise, hard-hitting, and cruel. “It’s really all you’re good for.”

Jordan’s pupils dilated. He sucked in a breath of air, I saw his chest swell. He snatched Ben up by his hood, easily lifting the guy. His feet dangled off the ground.

“Say that again,” Jordan snarled.

Ben’s face was twisted up in pain, but that stupid smirk still remained.

“Say that again!”

“Jord, put him down!”

“I said--” Ben struggled to speak. His hands were scrabbing furiously at Jordan’s, trying to break his grip. “--it’s all. You’re. Good for.”

Jordan gave his greatest bull roar, pivoted on a heel, and hurled Ben as hard as possible in a random direction.

We were familiar with the force of Jordan’s more aggravated throws. It was always amusing to watch bad guys spin away, but not when it was supposed to be a member of your team.

But Ben didn’t spin or flail in the air. He flew solidly straight back, but made a slight arc. We lost him over some buildings. He landed out of sight, but the thick sound of flesh on metal, a blaring car alarm, and a shriek all happened at once.

Jordan gave us no time to react. He pushed off of the ground, leaping from the rooftop to street level, running, chasing. He wanted Ben’s blood.

“That degenerated quickly,” was all Sam had to say, before whirling out his cape and disappearing into its black folds.

Kristen was out ahead first; she was lighter, faster. I hopped on a force field and flew towards the source of the noise.

(To be Continued .. )

THE LAST SLICE pt 2 of 4


“Jordan, are you...” I started, but that was as far as I got before he lurched to his feet, hefted the SUV by its bumper, and hurled it straight at my head.

______________________________________

Sam reappeared at the source of the commotion before Kristen and I arrived, teleporting smartly onto the roof of a car, stepping down its hood and onto the pavement as though it were an elegant staircase.

Ben had, it seemed, landed on the roof of a car, bounced off, and smashed into the glass window of a furniture outlet. He staggered to his feet. A gash on the side of his head bled down to the rest of his clothes, but he seemed otherwise alright.

“Are you--?” Sam started, but just then Jordan arrived, and things kinda went to shit.

“Arrived” is too passive a verb. Jordan had leaped from a tall place, smashing Hulk-style into the pavement of the street below. The sizable crater from his impact let anyone watching (and yes, there were bystanders) know that the young hero meant business.

“All I’m good for, huh?” Jordan bellowed, striding closer to Ben.

Ben unsheathed his katana, standing in a battle ready position. Jordan did not take this well. He advanced further.

Ben took a half-step back, foot turning on some broken glass. He lifted his blade even higher, to compensate. “Back off!”

Jordan’s fists were clenched into balls. Closer and closer. He took a swipe at Ben, who easily stepped aside, laughing.

Jordan yelled at the miss. He slammed a foot into the ground, causing yet another small crater in the pavement. This unbalanced Ben. The ninja’s surefire smile flickered, he lowered his sword for just a second, Jordan drew back a fist and --

Just when it looked like Ben was about to lose skull privileges, Sam intervened.

Fw-Fw-Fw-Fwip. Kra-KOW! He flung a handful of cards between the two. They landed in formation, and then after a split second, exploded in light, force, and sound, flinging the combatants away from each other.

It was then that Kristen and I arrived -- minutes after Sam, but apparently late for the fireworks show.

Kristen shifted four copies of herself to take up perimeter around the scene. Her clones kept her image, of course, but shimmered more, had a lighter sheen to them.

The clones stood at the ready, in a fighting stance, to pounce. Kristen herself stood at my side with her hands on her hips.

The force of Sam’s cards had flung Jordan backwards, broadsiding an SUV and caving it in, at the center, where his body impacted. Without thinking, I rushed to his side.

“Jordan, are you...” I started, but that was as far as I got before he lurched to his feet, hefted the SUV by its bumper, and hurled it straight at my head.

Its shadow fell over me. No time to run. I screamed, ducked, and a primal solid force wave spiked from me. The car was deflected. It smashed itself hard. Fluids ran into the road. Smoke began pouring from its hood. More alarms shrieked.

“What the hell was that?” I lost my cool, then, balling my fists and challenging Jordan, who stood staring at me, coolly.

“I was trying to help you!” each syllable was punctuated by a spike of force. “You don’t throw cars at people who try to help you. What is your problem?”

“That kid,” Jordan pointed across the street at Ben, who wiped blood from his forehead and sheathed his blade. “He treat me like shit.”

“I do not!” the ninja folded his arms over his chest, prideful scowl back in place.

Jordan’s eyes narrowed. “Bullshit. I eat hits. That’s all I’m good for. You said it.”

“You’re bulletproof, man, what else are you supposed to do?”

“How many years have I put up with your twitchy ass?”

All eyes were on us, and not in an excellent way. We had stopped traffic completely. People were getting out of their cars, standing at the driver’s side to get a glimpse of the Infinity Five falling apart. A news helicopter settled in overhead.

“Come on, stop it!” I called out, weakly. My head spun from my earlier mental outburst.

“You are both unyieldingly stubborn,” Sam observed, handful of cards at the ready.

Kristen did not offer any verbal input. She herself remained motionless, but her clones inched in a little closer to Jordan, ready to pounce. He regarded them warily.

“Don’t you start, blondie,” Jordan pointed at the clones surrounding him, spreading his arms wide.

“Ben didn’t mean what he said, Jord, it was just a misunderstanding!” I tried, again.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I thought I had a problem,” Jordan lashed back at me, reminding me of my earlier remark.

“It was just a slice of pizza,” Ben’s mouth twisted downward in a cruel sort of smirk.

A beat passed. A beat of silence where no one said anything. Helicopter blades whopped, sirens wailed, car alarms shrieked, passersby stared. We all stared in fear at Jordan as he digested what Ben, that idiot, had just said.

“I quit,” Jordan said quietly.

I was sure I hadn’t heard him, but I knew what he had said. He had returned to his quiet demeanor, which was often more terrifying than him throwing Cadillacs.

“What?” Ben demanded, sharply. Jordan sucked in a breath of air.

“I QUIT!” he slammed both fists onto the pavement.

The ground erupted from the force of the dual blows. The middle section of the street buckled majorly. Bits of rubble started rolling. A water main had broken. Water poured into the street. Those civilians who were standing around, observing, were now in danger of falling through to the city’s underbelly. Some screamed as they staggered backwards, near to a fall.

Kristen’s clones dove into action, springing forward. I thrust out with a palm, calling a force field to catch some of them. Sam whirled himself away in his cape, only to reappear at the side of a young man, just in time to stop him from careening into the pit.

In the fuss, Ben stood stock-still.

Once we had dragged people away from the collapsed street, I turned just in time to see Jordan tear off the patch on his shirt with the Infinity Five logo, and fling it to the ground.

He gave us a hearty middle finger, and walked away.

The Infinity Five were now four.

Sirens wailed.

(To be continued .. )

THE LAST SLICE (pt 3 of 4)


Jordan was across the street from us, now, striding purposefully with murder in his eyes.

“Maybe he’s here to talk?” Sam said, hopefully, even as he readied a handful of cards.

“I doubt that very much,” I muttered, turning to the side slightly, ready for a fight.

_______________________

The ambulances came, the fire trucks came. The news vans, the police cars, even flatbed trucks for the crippled vehicles. There only thing for us to do at that point was to stick around and at least try to clean up the mess we had made. We declined to comment, and we declined to look each other in the eye.

Word traveled fast about who had actually started the altercation. I wasn’t used to being looked at in fear as I helped ease the broken SUV onto the flatbed truck, for immediate delivery to the junkyard.

Kristen was working with the firefighters. She shifted a clone, and sent it into the crevasse to assess damage to the pipes underground. It was getting darker now; the light from its body would give it enough vision down below.

Sam was nudging bits of broken glass back together with his foot. He took a very long, hard look at the empty window, and managed to repair it, but the alarm system would need to be re-armed.

Ben sat cross-legged on the sidewalk, cleaning his Katana with the tails of his non-scarf. None of us wanted to talk to him. Honestly, I was surprised that he hadn’t poofed away in a puff of smoke.

Turns out, a smattering of other conflicts had broken out across Trennorville, during our little scuffle. Who knew. Some bad guys had taken advantage of the Infinity Five pummeling each other.

Once we had cleaned up what we could, there was nothing else to do but carry on. We split off into pairs for evening rounds of the city.

______

As was her custom, Kristen shifted a handful of clones to scout on ahead, as she and I took the western perimeter of the city. Every now and then I would see their shimmering forms darting in and out of alleyways, too and from rooftops while she and I strolled around the park.

Trennorville’s outer city parks were often sad, miserable things to behold. It sometimes it looked more like a playset had run away, relocating to a cement slab. They didn’t call them “parks” so much as they called them “playlots.”

One of the larger ones that at least had modest patches of grass was called Anchor Park. We walked on its outer edges, skirting a forgotten diamond ring.

“Never seen him go off like that before,” I said, in a low voice.

Kristen frowned, keeping pace with me. “Ben, or Jordan?”

“Jord. Ben’s always a little, you know,” and I flailed my arms around me.

Kristen kicked at an empty can of soda. It tumbled in the scrub grass. She left it lie. “I figured he’d snap someday.”

“We’re all close to snapping!” I murmured.

We left the grass and returned to the sidewalk.

“I guess you never really know someone,” Kristen commented, quietly.

“Yeah,” I shielded my eyes against the sun, looking for any hulking silhouette on the tops of buildings. “Which sucks for us. Because the Infinity Five sounds so much cooler than the Infinity Four.”

_________________

“I’m just saying,” Sam offered helpfully, “you can be sort of an asshole, at times.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

Ben and Sam took the Northeastern perimeter of the city, a mostly residential area broken up by a few production plants. They had gone almost the entire route without speaking, once, but Ben had been the first to break the silence.

Sam frowned at Ben’s take on his earlier comment. “Well, yes. Stop being that way.”

Ben stopped walking, and folded his arms across his chest. “Someone has to keep this team in line.”

“Oh!” Sam rolled his eyes. “Is that what you were doing? Because it has seemed to achieve the direct opposite of that. Like, literally, the opposite.”

“If I have to be the bad guy, I’ll be the bad guy! Who else is gonna lead this team? What are our options? ” Ben counted them off on his fingers. “A blonde-haired priss, a quiet zombie dude, a whiny psychic, or --”

Sam raised his eyebrows, when he realized who was left on Ben’s list. “Or?”

Ben let his hands flop to his sides. “Or, whatever.”

“No, please, go on, take the piss. What were you going to say about me?”

Ben scowled. Sam narrowed his eyes. “Don’t back down now!”

“You’re a little pretentious!’” Ben folded his arms over his chest again, if possible, tighter than before.

“For God’s sake, man,” Sam spread his arms to the side. “I’m wearing a suit, a cape, and a top hat. I think I’ve earned the right to be a little pretentious.”

“You always act like you’re smarter than us.”

“By us, you mean you.”

“See?”

“Imagine that.”

Ben did not stab Sam in the hand with a shuriken, but the glare he gave achieved about the same effect. The ninja turned on his heel and stalked forward, striding with purpose, intending to leave Sam behind.

_______

Jordan was a jarring sight on the best of days, considering his size and light blue skin, riddled with scars, stitches, and runic tattoos. Now, civilians regarded him with even more wariness as he walked aimlessly through Southern Trennorville. News traveled fast.

He crossed streets against the light. He commanded the sidewalk, not budging an inch for people. He kept his gaze down, staring resolutely at his shoes.

Inside, his thoughts were racing. Names, vulgarities, promises of physical hurt all tumbled around in a malicious rush. Fucking prick.

But a waft of greasy, delicious pizza caught his attention. His head snapped up almost at once, like a dog keening into a fugitive’s scent.

His stomach twisted up at the odor. How could he be so hungry? He had just eaten an hour or so ago.

Growing boy! Jordan thought darkly to himself.

The young hero turned abruptly, startling some nearby joggers. He swung towards where the scent was leading him and decided to walk, and not stop until he got some of that deliciousness into his stomach, no matter what it took...

_________

There is a statue of President Roosevelt riding a majestic war-like horse in the smack center of town, right at 0,0. It is this dias that the Infinity Five usually meet up to exchange reports once finishing our nightly rounds.

But now, we were the Infinity Four, and when we met up, our reports were short and clipped, given in as few words as humanly possible.

Kristen investigated her nails. I absently watched traffic. Sam shuffled his deck of cards. Ben sat cross-legged a few paces away, hunched over, brooding, tense as always.

There was an unspoken question in the air that none of us wanted to answer. Should we go look for him?

It seemed, however, that Jordan was looking for us.

We heard his bull roar a distance away. We froze. Jordan came into view. He stood in the center of main street, but many blocks down, so he was only the size of my thumb. He made great strides towards us, however, and did not seem to be concerned about traffic even in the slightest.

“Uh,” Kristen licked her lips, shifting two clones who stood at the ready. “Anyone wanna take that?”

Jordan was across the street from us, now. He gave no fucks about the light. Vehicles stopped.

“Maybe he’s here to talk?” Sam said, hopefully, even as he readied a handful of cards.

“I doubt that very much,” I muttered, turning to the side slightly, breathing deep, clearing my mind.

There was something off about how Jordan was, at the moment. His fists were clenched, his jaw was clenched, his entire body was a testament to rage. Even when he had lost his temper earlier, there had not existed this new air of malevolence. His expression was one of such twisted hate that I hardly recognized our blue-skinned friend.

Subtle, but perhaps most significantly of all, his sleeve was tattered where he had ripped off the figure-eight logo of the Infinity Five.

Ben rose to his feet, drawing his katana and striking an aggressive stance.

“Stand down!” he barked. “Or I’ll--”

But we did not get to hear what Ben would do, because the second Jordan stepped onto the curb, he punched a streetlight in half, caught and hefted its weight, hurling the shaft directly at us, javelin-style.

Ben’s eyes widened.

After the SUV incident, I had been expecting this. I thrust out a palm and the lantern smashed into it. It clanged to the ground with an almighty terror, lantern smashing in a shower of sparks. This prevented shishka-Ben, but meant that Jordan’s attentions were now on me.

“Jordan, come on, let’s not do this!” I held up both hands, trying to appear non-threatening. “You don’t want to do this. We’re your friends!”

He stepped off the sidewalk, onto the grass, eyes locked on me. I felt Sam, Kristen, and Ben back up. I didn’t move. What the .. ?

Jordan’s eyes were glowing green.

This revelation seemed less important when I realized that Jordan was now within charging distance. I curled my fingers and bent a cafe of force around him. He strained against the pressure; I fed the blue-veined shield more power. He roared, a guttural sound.

He drew back a fist and slammed it hard against the shield that was holding him back.

Skrrrt.

Direct assaults on my force fields always affected some thread in my mind. That single-target blow sent a jolt of pain to the base of my skull, but I maintained it.

But Jordan saw me wince, and his mouth split open into a cruel smirk. He leaned back and led with his fist a second time, this time putting all his energy into the blow, following through fully, bodily. I knew well the force of Jordan’s punches - he had beaten his way through a locked bank vault before.

And all of that force caused my head to snap backwards. I cried out, and the field around Jordan fell.

I dropped first to one knee, then flopped on my side. A high-pitched ringing filled my brain. The last thing I remember seeing was the dark whirl of Sam’s cape, and the familiar glint of Kristen’s clones.

THE LAST SLICE (pt 4 of 4)


Their eyes were all glowing green, and their expressions unified - that of pure malicious intent.

It was the same look on Jordan’s face before he had cannonballed straight through us.

________________________________________________

Returning to consciousness was a rather slow affair, but my first concrete vision was Sam’s face very close to mine. He stared down at me with genuine concern. I blinked up at him. He turned away, speaking to someone else.

“She’s awake.”

From the smell of the place and the feel of the mattress under me, I knew I was in our small infirmary at base. I lunged into speaking, but all that came out was garbage. Sam frowned. I tried again.

“What happened?” my lips felt dry and cracked.

“Jordan threw President Roosevelt at my head,” Sam reported, blandly. “He also killed Kristen.”

Wh --

“The wrong Kristen,” our blonde friend said sourly, from the other side of the room.

I sat up, slowly. My head throbbed. Where was Ben? Ahh.

Ben sat cross-legged on the ceiling, arms folded over his chest, tail ends of his not-scarf dangling down, which had been the first thing I saw. He was in one of his moods.

“We barely got you out,” the ninja said, tone venomous. “That was not our Jordan.”

“Was it not?” Sam said in a voice of magnificent awe. “You’re saying that Jordan with Glowing Eye Action isn’t the norm? Twist!”

Ben made an incoherent snarling sound. Sam curled his lip up at the ninja.

“Oh I’m sorry,” the Brit continued, giving his voice a patronizing swerve. “Am I doing the ‘pretentious’ thing again?”

Kristen sighed a loud, pointed, long-suffering sigh. “Would you guys please just grow up?”

“Don’t you start!” Ben rebuked her sharply. He paused a second, then glared at Sam. “Oh! Am I doing the ‘asshole’ thing again?”

“STOP!” I screamed, just as Sam reached rather suddenly for his top hat.

They stopped. Silence fell. No sound but breathing, and machines whirring. In the stillness, I dropped my gaze to the bedspread, followed the fold of the sheets to my arm. On the back of my left hand, there was a dark red tattoo, the horizontal figure eight Lemniscate symbol of the Infinity Five.

I held it up, feebly, wordlessly, for the rest of us to see.

Kristen’s fingers drifted up to touch the pendant around her neck, which bore the symbol as well. Sam pursed his lips, glancing down at his belt buckle. Above us, still defying gravity and sitting on the ceiling, Ben sighed, no doubt thinking of what insignia it was printed on all of his various tools and weapons.

Kristen dug around in her pocket, revealing a scrap of black fabric.

“I found this when I was searching that fissure, earlier,” she said quietly.

It was Jordan’s shirt sleeve, which he had ripped off just before departing. The crimson logo was as unmistakable as ever.

“Well,” Sam gave his voice some false cheer. “Now I feel sufficiently terrible.”

“You feel terrible?” Ben disengaged from the ceiling, landing catlike, with very little sound in a crouch with a dull fwump. “This shit is my fault.”

“It’s no one’s fault,” Kristen folded the sleeve back up, and returned it to her pocket. “Things happen.”

Yet another silence fell.

“The pizza wasn’t even really that good,” I added, with a weak smile.

Halting, uncertain laughter from the rest. At least we were in better spirits, now.

____________________________

Once I was sure I had regained my strength, we ventured back out into the city with fresh resolve.

Despite what had transpired at the pizza place, Jordan was now acting in a way wholly unlike himself. Glowing green eyes, and increased aggression. Our mission was to investigate this, and contain him like any other criminal. Apologizing and sorting things out would come later - the safety of the people came first.

No more going off alone, or in pairs. We roamed as a pack, with Kristen’s clones running interference, being our eyes and ears in other parts of the city.

What with two major catastrophic happenings in one day, Trennorville had essentially shut down in the business district. Few civilians roaming. Lots of police, though. One of the nation’s largest cities had turned into a ghost town.

For that reason, when one of Kristen’s clones caught sight of about a dozen people crowding an alley just off of Central Ave, we figured something must be up.

Sam appeared in a whirl of his cape. Kristen sprang forward, light on her toes as ever. I settled down to earth after flying in on a force shield, and Ben appeared in a puff of haze.

This was, we discovered, the back entrance to Colrain’s Citchen. People were clawing at each other, climbing over each other to get into an open dumpster. Some already stood chest-high within the bin. I heard plastic stretching as people tore open the black bags, sifting through the moist garbage with greedy fingers. They were all shapes, all sizes.

Whatever was in there, they wanted it, and they wanted it badly.

Their eyes were all glowing green, and their expressions unified - that of pure malicious intent.

It was the same look on Jordan’s face before he had cannonballed straight through us.

A wordless cry rose up. I saw the barest glimpse of a brown-haired man lifting what appeared to be a bit of pizza crust to his lips, in victory, but just then the full weight of every other man, woman, and child in the vicinity fell upon him in a writing mass, crying out, ripping his prize from his hands.

And that was when we smelled it. Pizza, cooked to perfection. Delicious, enticing. Just the right amount of cheese, sauce, pepperoni. I smelled it as clearly as I would have if it were right in front of me. The odor of the dumpster meant nothing.

The dozen or so civilians smelled it, too. They all stood ramrod straight, heads tilted to the side. Then they were scrambling over each other, shuffling off in the direction of some unseen call.

I couldn’t stop thinking about how hungry I was, or how much I just wanted to eat and eat and eat and eat until I burst, or died. Pizza sounded and smelled like the only thing in the world that mattered.

And so the Infinity Four followed them.

Momentary shock pulled us from our stupor, I think. We followed the modest crowd around the corner, to the main street and encountered at least a few hundred people marching to the pizza place.

It looked like a concert had just let out, or something. There was such a solid mass of humans in front of us that I had no idea how we had missed them when doing our rounds of the city earlier. Where had they come from?

Oh. Couple things.

They all had glowing green eyes, and Jordan was among them.

The sight of our friend cut through the thoughts of pizza. I didn’t smell it anymore, I just smelled garbage covering the civilians in our group. I glanced over at my teammates. Their expressions were different stages of confusion.

The little bell above the Colrain’s Citchen door dinged, and a strange man in a well-fitted suit stepped out and onto the sidewalk.

He twisted at a gold ring on his finger. There was a gigantic emerald set into it, and the gem glittered strangely. He caught sight of us at this point. He seemed pleasantly surprised, as though he had run into an old friend.

“Well, well, it’s the Infinity Four!” he said brightly.

I had become so familiar with Sam’s English accent that it took me a second to register the Australian tone to this guy’s words.

“Colrain, I presume?” I blinked.

“Right you are!” Colrain said conversationally, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Nice suit,” a spark of clarity caused my voice to gain an edge. “Most bad guys wouldn’t think to steal one that actually fits.”

“Oh, I took my sweet time,” Colrain plucked at his blood red tie. “You were all very busy making a mess out of downtown to answer any sort of distress signal.”

Colrain nodded to Jordan, who stepped forward in front of the man, barring us from getting to him.

Jordan stood tall and proud, staring straight ahead. I searched his expression, but did not find one trace of our friend.

No shimmering clones stood at Kristen’s side. Her usual response was to shift a few when things might turn bad, but now with the green-eyed civilians getting so close, I could tell she was afraid it might cause things to chain reaction downhill.

Sam acted aloof as ever, but his gloved hand hovered very near to his belt, where his cards waited, at the ready.

Ben’s arms were folded tightly over his chest. His eyes darted here, there, and everywhere, attempting to analyze our situation as quickly as possible.

“What’d you do to him?” the ninja demanded, buying time, nodding to Jordan.

“Nothing you didn’t already start!” Colrain said cheerfully. He twisted at the emerald ring once more. “We had a talk over dinner. He was quite upset. Thankfully, he was more than happy to do me a bit of a favor, but it seems like you all managed to escape with your lives...”

Sam looked from the green-eyed men and women, to Jordan, to Colrain, and then back again.

“So let me get this straight,” the Brit said slowly. “The pizza .. controls peoples’ minds.”

Colrain furrowed his eyebrows. “Was that not clear?”

Ben’s eyes locked in on the ring on Colrain’s finger. “Yeah, obviously.”

“I suppose. But... why pizza?”

“Why not pizza?” Colrain maintained his easygoing facade, as though we were old friends.

And then, again, the smell of delicious, delicious pizza wafted in front of my nose, and I was filled wholly and completely with thoughts of how amazing it would be to get some of that Australian pizza. The smell seemed to become more intense when I looked at the ring on Colrain’s finger.

Of course, pizza! I found myself thinking. It felt natural. The most delicious of substances. I’d do anything for some. Really, anything at all.

I was dimly conscious of Jordan flexing his fingers, rolling his shoulders, and stepping forward towards us.

For once, Ben’s all-encompassing stubbornness saved the day. His face was screwed up in a fierce scowl.

“Jordan!” Ben shouted. “Jordan, he’s controlling you. Don’t listen to him.”

Jordan kept walking forward. Ben’s jaw tightened, but he stood his ground.

“It’s the pizza, man! Are you listening to me?”

We all tensed. Recently, letting Jordan get within punching distance of us hadn’t been working out so well. But still Ben did not budge, even until they were nearly a stone’s throw apart.

“I’m sorry,” the ninja snapped, and Jordan stopped short. Ben paused, softened, then started over. “I’m...sorry. Sorry for being a total asshat to you.”

Ben ducked his head, glancing over at Sam as well. “I’m sorry to everyone.”

Jordan’s eyes flickered for a second, from green to their normal hue. His chin lifted. He appeared to be listening. Ben went on, voice quieter.

“We need you on this team. We need you to keep us together. But if pizza is going to make you kill all of us, then fine, whatever. That’s pretty lame.”

The green faded from Jordan’s eyes. His shoulders sagged just a bit. He stared at Ben, then stared at us with a sort of dawning understanding, and horror. Jordan opened his mouth presumably to spill out a thousand-million questions, but then --

“How touching!” Colrain leered, from behind. “But too little too late, as they say.”

Oh. My. God. Jordan’s back was to Colrain; he didn’t know that the spell had worn off. Ben and Jordan locked eyes.

“You were right before, these are totally scarves,” Ben reached behind him, grabbing the trails, flicking them out as though to show off how grabbable they were.

“And these?” Ben lifted a handful of shuriken. He was being very large and obvious with his movements. “They’re totally ninja stars.”

A thread of understanding passed between them. Ben gave a tiny, nearly imperceptible nod.

Jordan gave another bull roar, rushing at Ben. Ben launched right at our bruiser, in return, before any of us could react.

They did not clash in blows when they met. Instead, Ben stepped to the side, Jordan caught hold of his scarves and hurled him around 180-degrees, shotput style, so that he was flying straight at Colrain with his arms cocked back, six shuriken ready to fly.

All of this happened within a few seconds. From my perspective as an observer, I was sure that the blades were going to smack into Colrain’s body, gutting him, but instead they thudded him by the suit coat, the trousers, the sleeves, and pinned him effectively to the storefront wall behind him.

Ben casually defied gravity, landing squarely on the wall as though it were a floor, placing both feet on Colrain’s arms, straddling him with a crouch. The last shuriken was in his fist. He grabbed a handful of Colrain’s collar.

“Now!” the ninja yelled. “I’ll take this!”

With the last blade, he sheared the gem off of Colrain’s ring. It fell to the ground and shattered.

Ben dropped back down to the actual ground, and wheeled back around.

“The plays, baby, the plays!” he waved his arms in the air.

“I actually thought you were going to die,” Sam said, very seriously, strolling over to examine the scene.

Ben’s face was flush with excitement. “I KNOW, RIGHT?”

The civilians no longer held by the ring’s spell were milling about, speaking in low, confused tones. The ones we had seen behind the store marveled at their foul stench.

Jordan stood rather still, flexing and unflexing his fingers, blinking, licking his lips, trying to get used to being in his own mind space again. Kristen approached him, cautiously.

“You dropped this,” she said, with a grin, holding up the torn Infinity 5 logo that had been on his sleeve.

Colrain strained valiantly against the blades pinning him into place, valiantly attempting to twist out of his suit coat

Ben noticed Colrain’s efforts, and made to round on the man, but Jordan cleared his throat.

“Do you mind?” our bruiser asked, quietly. “I have a really good one for this.”

Ben bowed graciously, stepping to the side. “All yours, man.”

Jordan turned to face Colrain, who paled. The man cracked his knuckles.

“You cut my life into pizza,” he cracked his knuckles. “This is my plastic fork.”

The adventure ended, of course, with a freeze-frame high five.

This was really funny. I enjoyed reading it. Have you written something in this world before?

This particular world? No, I have not. It was written as a one-shot for Facebook friends ("first five people to write this status .. ") but while I was in the process of creating it, I had a bit of a freewrite spill out of my head.

The other related piece is called Not An Origin Story and while it's still set in Trennorville, it is a sharp departure from the comedic, tongue-in-cheek tone of The Last Slice. It takes an electrifying third person perspective into the terror of having powers, but not quite being a hero yet. I consider it a prequel.

I just did another of those Facebook prompts, so I have a new batch of friends and a new story to craft together. Woo!

Thanks for reading! This was a lot of fun to put together.