Tuesday, August 1, 2017

The Fiasco in News by Stephan Morse

Release date: August 1, 2017
Subgenre: Superheroes

About The Fiasco in News:


When you’ve seen as many catastrophes as I have, “disaster” becomes a relative term. But when disaster hits, feel free to do what I do—hang your head while waiting for the tight-wearing crowd to arrive. That only works if your super power is the same one I have though. I’m an immortal walking magnet for superpowered problems.

This new guy, Ted—a fake part-time villain who’s in it for the ratings and excitement—wants me to be a field correspondent for his news blog, and his offer sounds good. If I can’t beat ’em, expose ’em. The problem is he has no idea what my daily life is like.

No one really does—but they’ll learn.



Part 1 Four Idiots Wake Up In a Lair

I glanced at the prisoners near me. Each one was strapped in and unconscious. The guy on the end looked to be drooling heavily. Hopefully he’d come to and freshen up before the hero barged in.
“I timed their sedatives. They should be ready to scream and beg when whoever shows up,” TeleGraph answered my unasked question.
“Who are the choices?” I had nothing to lose by asking. My fantastic power hadn’t failed me yet on the survivor front.
“Why? Are you going to try to help them?” At least Ted’s voice hadn’t gone all whiny again. Suspicious but not whiny.
“No.” I wanted to see if I should keep my eyes closed or pull my feet off the ground. Water-powered heroes loved to flood a place, and wet socks made being a prisoner that much worse.
“Well, it doesn’t matter much either way. You can’t really help them. I made sure of that.” Ted lifted his glittery gauntlets up high. “Do scream though. It adds to the atmosphere.”
“Sure thing.”
Providing assistance to the heroes was out since I was tied up nice and tight. My arms barely moved at all. Not even an antigravity field to keep me stable. My shoulders would be sore as hell in the morning. I scanned the floor for loose bolting, anything I could rattle to pass the time.
“No use looking for an escape,” he said with a slightly confused tone.
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” My throat felt so dry. Sedatives always made me thirsty.
“Are you going to fight back?”
“No, that would be stupid.” I didn’t want to fight a villain. If I did, then someone would slap a hero label on me. After that would follow tights and a themed costume—or worse, union dues.
Then what?”
For a person who could read my every move, he sure missed a lot.
No visible hinges on the bottom of the apparatus holding me up. No switch within leg's reach. The lock was mechanical and bound around my wrists. Which meant I was basically stuck with my front-row ticket to this upcoming event.
“Nothing important,” I muttered.
Ted, TeleGraph, swiveled around to watch me. “No, really, what are you trying to do?”
I eyed him in return then hung my head. There was no point in any of this. I’d be stuck here for the next few hours as things went one way or the other. Then I’d be free for the next villain to pick up. “Just killing time.”
What on God’s green earth did he expect from me? You’d think he would anticipate hostages asking questions. It wasn’t as if we were gagged over a pit of crocodiles with laser beams on their tails.
“You’re not some secret hero, are you?” TeleGraph asked.
“No. The Boy Scouts said I was overqualified.”




About Stephan Morse: 

Stephan Morse was born the year 1983 in San Diego. The next fifteen years were spent slowly escaping California and surviving a public education system. Thus far he's made it to the Seattle (WA) region with little desire to go further. When not trying to shove words together into sentences Stephan spends time reading, catching up on sleep, and otherwise living a mundane life.

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