Pullman’s ears were ringing. Despite being familiar with the echoed ringing in his ears from gunfire and explosions, the silence that accompanied this ringing was deafening. His questions on why he was plagued with a foreboding feeling in the back of his head all day – that sixth sense that so many parents seem to have with or without super powers – had finally been answered.

“…Pullman…?”

His ‘nemesis’, Fortress, gave him the news that Pullman’s son had been killed. However, the word executed was the one that was exploding in his thoughts.

The ringing got louder, drowning out Fortress’ voice as he felt the world shrink around him. The ringing gave way to crying. Pullman heard the crying of his son the day he was born. He could still feel the enormous weight of his newborn child on the skin of his arms.

Time sped up.

Pullman heard the laughter of his son as a toddler. The memories of what he laughed at were hazy now, but the warmth that once soothed the soul felt like icy fire now. That icy fire oozed up from his fingertips and through his veins.

Time sped up again.

Pullman still felt the stinging of tears running down his cheeks as he ushered his son off to his first day of school. Part of him felt silly; the parent shouldn’t be the one crying. Yet, there he was fervently waving his hand to his son on his first day of life without him. The tears on his face now felt electrified with rage.

Again and again, Pullman saw his son’s life flash before his eyes. He had heard how one’s own life could do this at the point of death but never knew of the cruel torment that would play out should a parent live beyond their child. Some memories played in a flash and others dragged on as he lived through them all.

Intermediate school. When his son became a teenager. When his son first started developing his powers. What was once such a sweet memory that made his chest swell with pride and joy was now a ball of molten lead burning within him.

High school. Helping him become a confident man. Guiding him to being what he wanted to be – whether that was a hero or a villain that was his decision. Pullman really wanted to hammer home that while society deemed what was “good and evil” when it came to super powered beings, there was ultimately a right and wrong.

His son’s execution was the latter.

As all of these memories and thoughts swirled around Pullman’s head, the furniture in the dining room became affected. The first thing Fortress noticed were the chairs. They began to vibrate ever so slightly before they began to slide towards Pullman; their legs scratching on the hardwood floor. The ceiling light began to lean towards him. The dining table cloth, the cabinets, the plants until finally Fortress himself was being pulled towards the grieving man in the middle of the room.

“Pullman! Pullman, please!”

He snapped out of his trance. Everything went still. Pullman and Fortress looked into each other’s eyes.

“Pull- Keith. Keith listen”, Keith Pullman stared back at him with vacant eyes.

“I’m…”, he contemplated saying sorry, but Fortress knew those were not the appropriate words right now, “at a loss of what to say”

“…then don’t say anything”, dead air hung between them.

Finally, Keith broke the silence.

“Who”, was all he asked but the gravity that single, uttered word was immense.

“Keith. I will tell you. I promise you. But I don’t think you’re ready to hear this.”

“I will not. Ask. Again”, Fortress felt the tugging of Pullman’s powers drawing him closer. Instinctively, his powers activated, adding mass to his body to resist that force drawing him in, but he knew it was to be a fruitless endeavor. Fortress opened his mouth to speak but Pullman cut him off.

“The next thing out of your mouth will be names or I swear on my son’s-“, he choked on the words as soon as they were spoken, “…Or I swear you will not like what I will do to find out.”

Fortress could deal with threats spat in anger. Threats boasted with confidence. Threats dripping with malice. The frigid, lifeless way that Pullman spoke his into existence chilled him to the bone.

“It was Generation neXt”

Generation neXt. The last bit of humanity that held Pullman together snapped like balsa wood. They were ‘Old Powers’, as the public liked to call them. The tenth generation of people with powers that have always seemed to have been around. Flying, super speed, super strength – the classics.

Pullman didn’t say a word. He slowly stood up from his chair and walked to his door.

“Keith! Wait! You can’t-“, was all Fortress managed to say before he was off his feet and before Pullman with his throat square in his palm.

“No. No no. I can. I will. What I cannot do. Is wait”, he dropped Fortress, “Please. Do not attempt to stop me or I will forget the friendship that we share.”

All Fortress could do was a slight nod before Pullman walked away.