station and turned up the volume on the boxy TV. A fuzzy image from a news channel showed a sunny American city. Chimerics fought in the metropolis of Port Haven. Vlad recognized one of them as the blue-and-black-garbed Artemis . Lucy adored her, and Vlad couldn’t deny he found her incredibly attractive. While the costumed hero/vigilante called Dervish slammed at high-speed into a man wielding a cast iron streetlamp pole, Artemis got civilians out of harm’s way, ushering them toward DCD officers.
The male Russian commentator criticized American’s infatuation for masked chimerics and their lax laws. He segued to the recent murder of a chimeric from Dallas, Texas, who’d been a school teacher: “…are in an uproar over the public execution of Benjamin Browne. While the execution was conducted by unnamed vigilantes, many are in agreement of the actions taken. Egor?”
The footage of the superheroes cut away to a man beside the first news anchor adjusting a microphone on his shirt. Static overtook the shot. Cheslav tapped the top of the TV and adjusted his carefully-made metal wires to regain the signal.
“The chimeric in question was witnessed hovering off the ground to change a fluorescent bulb in his room between classes. Three days later, Mr. Browne was found hanging from a stop light with the word ‘Abomination’ carved into his chest. Our own leader’s comments on the incident after this…”
Cheslav turned off the set and sneered. He released Lucy and kicked her to the floor, sending her flat on her face. “This has been on TV all day. See? They hate your kind in America as much as they hate you here.”
“That’s not true,” Vlad said, surprised by the strength in his own voice. “There’s some bad people in America, but not everyone. The superheroes fight them. Here, we’re killed in the streets no matter where we go or what our intent is. We don’t have a chance of a life here. In America, there is hope.”
For years Cheslav tried to beat them into submission. He found out their dreams and tried to crush them. For every true story of crimes against chimerics, he had even more fictional ones to enforce it. It was easy to make a child live in fear. From the day Cheslav brought him to Klin, he made sure Vlad knew what happened to chimerics in Russia. He tried to do the same to Lucy, but she was too old when he got her. More defiant.
But Vlad hated what he was. Each day he worried someone would come kill him. His parents had sold him. His mother had killed his sister, her very own infant daughter, just for being chimeric.
Lucy had helped Vlad change his perception somewhat. Her brazen hope rubbed off on him, despite their disagreements. Had he stayed alone with the old man, Vlad would’ve given up completely by now. But he hadn’t. He and Lucy collected their American superhero books and trinkets while on their cons. The Brown Thrasher was a hero they held in high regard. Not only was he a TCA-sponsored chimeric, but he was a successful businessman. Vlad sucked up memories from people who’d been to America and relayed how wonderful it was to Lucy. They planned. They dreamed. Cheslav could never take that away.
“Go fix dinner,” Cheslav ordered. “And don’t try to steal from me ever again.”
Vlad looked at Lucy, stiffly getting to her feet and walking to the kitchen, and anger swelled inside of him.
Cheslav must’ve seen the look on his face. The man laughed. “The second you try to leave, I’ll call the police and report two unregistered chimerics running amok. I’ll tell them what your powers are, all the evil you’ve done, and they will hunt you down and kill you. That, or I’ll come for you myself; you know what’ll happen if I do. There is no hope for you, boy.”
Then. Two years ago…
It was a mistake to run. Vlad told Lucy this more times than he could count, but she insisted. Cheslav was right when he told Vlad as a boy that he’d have to learn the hard way.
The male Russian commentator criticized American’s infatuation for masked chimerics and their lax laws. He segued to the recent murder of a chimeric from Dallas, Texas, who’d been a school teacher: “…are in an uproar over the public execution of Benjamin Browne. While the execution was conducted by unnamed vigilantes, many are in agreement of the actions taken. Egor?”
The footage of the superheroes cut away to a man beside the first news anchor adjusting a microphone on his shirt. Static overtook the shot. Cheslav tapped the top of the TV and adjusted his carefully-made metal wires to regain the signal.
“The chimeric in question was witnessed hovering off the ground to change a fluorescent bulb in his room between classes. Three days later, Mr. Browne was found hanging from a stop light with the word ‘Abomination’ carved into his chest. Our own leader’s comments on the incident after this…”
Cheslav turned off the set and sneered. He released Lucy and kicked her to the floor, sending her flat on her face. “This has been on TV all day. See? They hate your kind in America as much as they hate you here.”
“That’s not true,” Vlad said, surprised by the strength in his own voice. “There’s some bad people in America, but not everyone. The superheroes fight them. Here, we’re killed in the streets no matter where we go or what our intent is. We don’t have a chance of a life here. In America, there is hope.”
For years Cheslav tried to beat them into submission. He found out their dreams and tried to crush them. For every true story of crimes against chimerics, he had even more fictional ones to enforce it. It was easy to make a child live in fear. From the day Cheslav brought him to Klin, he made sure Vlad knew what happened to chimerics in Russia. He tried to do the same to Lucy, but she was too old when he got her. More defiant.
But Vlad hated what he was. Each day he worried someone would come kill him. His parents had sold him. His mother had killed his sister, her very own infant daughter, just for being chimeric.
Lucy had helped Vlad change his perception somewhat. Her brazen hope rubbed off on him, despite their disagreements. Had he stayed alone with the old man, Vlad would’ve given up completely by now. But he hadn’t. He and Lucy collected their American superhero books and trinkets while on their cons. The Brown Thrasher was a hero they held in high regard. Not only was he a TCA-sponsored chimeric, but he was a successful businessman. Vlad sucked up memories from people who’d been to America and relayed how wonderful it was to Lucy. They planned. They dreamed. Cheslav could never take that away.
“Go fix dinner,” Cheslav ordered. “And don’t try to steal from me ever again.”
Vlad looked at Lucy, stiffly getting to her feet and walking to the kitchen, and anger swelled inside of him.
Cheslav must’ve seen the look on his face. The man laughed. “The second you try to leave, I’ll call the police and report two unregistered chimerics running amok. I’ll tell them what your powers are, all the evil you’ve done, and they will hunt you down and kill you. That, or I’ll come for you myself; you know what’ll happen if I do. There is no hope for you, boy.”
Then. Two years ago…
It was a mistake to run. Vlad told Lucy this more times than he could count, but she insisted. Cheslav was right when he told Vlad as a boy that he’d have to learn the hard way.
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