Announcement: You Might Miss It

Hello everyone! In order to keep the ol' writing brain flexible, I've started tinkering with another series that I've been mulling over: You Might Miss It. The story is going to be my take on some superhero fiction which I have always had a soft spot for. As y'all are on my Patreon, I figured I'd share with you the raw first drafts and early concepts as I slowly build up enough of a backlog to release it. If that's not your thing, feel free to ignore these posts in the future.

This will not impact my What Will Be releases and it's going to be months before this stuff gets anywhere near Royal Road. It is something I am devoting a few hours to here and there as a little writer's block remedy. I've found being able to hop between the two pieces of work is helping me work through stuff. Weirdly, a sort of 'words for story a, then words for story b, etc.' rhythm kinda works for me.

With that in mind, here is the first pass at the synopsis and the first part of Chapter 1:

Superpowers are a dream come true. Strange then that they call their acquisition an Awakening. Most people don’t Awaken and never will, but Eddy stumbled upon a chance for power that broke all the rules. Then he wished he hadn’t. 

Why work a day job when supervillainy can pay so well? Charlie’s Awakening unlocked a world of opportunities that all sounded like they would amount to a lot of effort and minimal payoff. Instead, Charlie and his two best friends decide that a single scheme can set them up for life. Schemes are harder than they look, though. 

Part of earning an education diploma is learning how to manage gifted students. When Beth Quint, a.k.a Ms. Q, discovers that one of her students has been engaging in vigilante activities instead of doing their homework, she’ll have to put that to the test. 

Chapter 1

Eddy

Abbreviations are profoundly ridiculous. A pair of heavy eyelids blinked as they processed the thought. The discounted energy drink propping them open had long since run dry, putting Eddy in the unenviable position of deciding between another hit of caffeine or a regular heartbeat. Eddy, full name Edward, fished his phone from the depths of a cargo pants pocket. As the cracked screen flickered into illumination, it displayed the current military time in all its soul-crushing glory. 

02:17

Technically, employees were supposed to leave their mobile phones in the back-of-house lockers. Occasionally, a new manager would attempt to enforce the policy, for a time. They were always quick to relent. Working the nightshift came with few perks, but a disconnect from the daytime staff was one of them. So long as the work was done, people left you alone. 

A familiar, repetitive tone blared from the point-of-sale computer. With a quick flourish of practiced, pudgy fingers, Eddy authorized gas pump number nine. He spared a glance to the forecourt where an off-red station wagon was being filled up by some bearded guy wearing a high-visibility vest. 

Hi-Vis vests, another abbreviation, Eddy, full name Edward, thought dryly. 

The reminder pulled his thoughts back to the recently restocked aisles of rudimentary snacks and foodstuffs. It was the instant soup sachets. Tired minds pulled on words with repetition until they lost all meaning, the cognitive death throes of linguistic comprehension.  

Occasionally, teetering on the edge of oblivion can inspire profound thoughts. 

Soups sounds like Supes. 

Usually, it is a recipe for nonsense. 

The Iron Mask had made headlines again, so Eddy had Supes on the brain. After unpacking the newspaper delivery earlier that morning, it was hard not to. The upcoming telekinetic hero was the flavor of the month, and Eddy could see why. Evidently some guy had a spontaneous Awakening and decided to play vigilante while wearing a welding helmet and navy coveralls. 

“Fuckin’ chicken noodle supes,” Eddy joked to himself with a chuckle. A flicker from one of the white, fluorescent lights echoed the sentiment in a demonstration of sad serendipity. The automatic doors to the Fill-n-Go hummed as they opened and a pair of dirty boots trudged onto the freshly mopped tiles. 

Yeah… that seems about right, Eddy concluded. As he lifted his head to greet the customer, he was met by the barrel of a pistol and the distinctive sound of someone cocking it. So does that.   

“Give me everything you have in the-” 

Eddy didn’t remember blinking, but it felt like he must have. He’d barely had time to process the situation before everything changed. It wasn’t the first time he’d been held at gunpoint, and it was on track to follow the usual script. The man’s voice carried the ghosts of a thousand unfiltered cigarettes. Behind the pistol, a pair of bloodshot eyes were wide with adrenaline. A hint of fluorescent fabric identified them as the man who’d been filling up at gas pump number nine. There was something ballsy about filling up the getaway vehicle at the place you intended to rob.

Eddy had come to pity the people who felt desperate enough to rob a service station that carried less than $100 in the cash float. A large sign by the door advertised the fact in what was evidently a poor attempt at deterrence. Eddy usually just gave them what they wanted and threw in a carton of cigarettes for good measure. Saving his employer the insurance hassles was not worth risking his life over. 

All of those considerations were, ultimately, meaningless. 

In an instant, the gunman vanished. One moment they were there, the next, they simply were not. Eddy did blink, then, if only to try and make sure he wasn’t losing his mind. A quick glance outside revealed the off-red station wagon was still parked by the pump. 

Another blink, another change. Taped to the window was a sheet of paper bearing a message written in black sharpie. 

Your life has been saved by the ‘The Blur’. I wish to talk with you, Eddy. Please meet me outside in the spot where you like to smoke. 

“Oh yeah, like that’s not ominous,” Eddy nervously commented. 

How do they even… the thought trailed off. Sneaking out back for a quick cigarette had become part of Eddy’s routine. Everyone eventually learned where the CCTV blind spots were, and abusing that information was part of employee privilege. The question was how The Blur could possibly know that information. At least the vanishing criminal suddenly made sense. 

The Blur was a speedster, which as the name suggested, meant they were an Awakened who could move at absurdly high speeds. Internet forums were usually buzzing with threads about the mysterious hero, and Eddy had casually browsed a few of them; he recognized their name and knew the broad strokes of their abilities, but little else. 

It was enough to decide that refusing to follow the instructions wasn’t an option. Most Awakened, or ‘Supes’ as Eddy preferred to refer to them, were surprisingly well adjusted. Incidents of super-powered murdersprees were rare. 

Rare, not non-existent. 

Let’s go ahead and avoid becoming a statistical anomaly tonight, Eddy thought dryly. In his mind, doing what the insanely powerful person wanted would minimize the odds of some kind of retribution. The gunman had already started putting him in survival mode, so he just rode that wave of restrained panic straight to the back-of-house and out the back door. 

There was a strip of space between the on-site dumpsters and automatic car wash that Eddy would duck to when taking a quick smoke break. He’d barely stepped into the memorized perimeter when a figure suddenly appeared before him. The short man had a receding hairline and wore a tracksuit that hugged their beer gut. His round face was flat and emotionless, unnaturally so. In their hands was a notepad, one which they had turned to face Eddy so he could read it. 

Thanks for coming, Eddy. I technically have a costume but figured I’d come to you without it given the circumstances.  

The note was written in that same, black sharpie. 

“Are you the freaking The Blur?” Eddy blurted out, having difficulty reconciling his idea of a speedster with the man who definitely had a mustard stain on his light gray jacket. Eddy blinked again, and when he opened his eyes, the message had changed. 

Yes, I’m The Blur. The only problem is, I cannot keep on being The Blur. I need someone to take up the mantle and have decided it should be you! Congratulations! 

“... Okay, I see what this is, you’re messing with me,” Eddy said and followed it up with a sarcastic chuckle. 

I wish I were. 

Eddy’s laugh slowly tapered off as he looked between the message and the emotionless man who wrote it. 

“No, but really though?”

The paper didn’t change.