In this weeks flash fiction friday, I had to use a last line of a story as the first line of a new one.  Below is that story.  Enjoy.

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“That plan didn’t fly, superhero, and now we’re short a bazooka.”

“Well, what do you expect?  I was only born four hours ago!” argued Hero.  Genetically designed and brought to life only this morning, he hadn’t been given a proper name.  Looking at him, one would expect that he had received only the best education, nutrition, and environment for the last twenty-five years.  He stood six feet tall, with dark brown hair and the build of an action star.

“I know that,” his commanding officer said, unsympathetically.  “But this is what you were made for.  We need to stop these monsters, and we need to do it now.  So if you don’t want to go back into that goop we pulled you out of, then use that freakish brain we gave you and figure out how to save the day.”  

A loud explosion sounded in the distance.  The creature had gotten to the nuclear power plant.  This could be the end of things.  Hero knew extensively about this beast from his studies during the helicopter ride from his birthplace to this location.  In fact, during that hour long flight, he learned all things about humanity, and his purpose for existing.

Since the Moon War, when a colony of extraterrestrials attempted to settle our moon, his kind had existed.  The trespassers were technologically advanced and had enhanced physical abilities as well.  Defeat seemed inevitable.  To keep right to our moon, the government created the Super Soldier Program that consisted of growing genetically superior specimens, with improved mental and bodily capabilities.

With their new league of exceptional humans, they swiftly dispatched the invaders and reclaimed the territory.  The Earth rejoiced and celebrated.  But it was short lived.

When the orders to return to facility they had sprung from was issued, the special warriors did not want to go back into their box.  They feared being forever isolated and alone, or worse, exterminated, since they were no longer useful.

They joined together and escaped.  The first few years of their exile went smoothly, as they attempted to disappear into normal society.  But they were not ordinary people.  It did not take them long to realize this.  They lacked the common social skills that are developed in childhood.  They also quickly grew annoyed by those of average intelligence.  The world held no challenges for them, no intrigue.

Two of the men realized that even in the general public they were alone, aside from each other.  And the boredom of a tedious life was too much.  They turned themselves in and begged for a mission.  They were given one.

The two deserters were commanded to hunt down the remaining three, and bring them back, dead or alive.  The first, while uncooperative, was not expecting their visit.  Two on one, he was brought in easily.

He would not corporate like the other two.  Therefore, he got the result he had always feared.  He was placed in deep isolation.  Alone, on the Moon, with no way to escape.   He would be a mayor of none and sole protector of the surface, should the aliens ever return.

Hearing that their friend had gone missing, and not knowing where they had put him, the outstanding two went on a rampage.  They were strong together, fortified, and prepared.  The team that had taken out the other superhuman were not enough to bring these villains down.

Thus, Hero was born.  Or, came to be, as it was.  He was not given any celebration.  There was no awe in people when they saw him.  Only fear or contempt.  This world hated him, yet he was created to save it.

They had released a series of bombs on major cities around the world.  Using his increased intellect, Hero could easily ascertain where they were located.

“The bazooka was just a distraction, anyway,” he told the general.

“It would be nice if your distractions didn’t cost my men their lives.  Or do you really not care about such things.”

“Can’t say that I do.  But they call us socially stunted after all, don’t they?”

“Calm down, son.  Get it done.”

Hero’s head swirled.  He wondered why he was fighting against his own kind, rather than joining them.  But these were his orders, and he was built to follow them.  In their alterations when they grew him, they made him to be obedient.  His will was their will.

Surveying the surroundings, he constructed a plan.  They were now mounting a three point attack on the rebels stronghold.  The smoking wreckage would make for good cover, and they wouldn’t expect an attack to come from the same location so soon after it was destroyed.

“Alright you two, get ready.  I’ll take the front, cause a distraction.  One, you go in from the left, through the smoke.  Four, you go in from the back.  They’ll be focused on me, since they don’t know who I am.  Rush in, subdue them.  I’ll help, if they don’t immediately kill me.”

“Got it,” said two voices over his radio.

“Good.  Let’s go!”

He rushed into the building and came face to face with his ancestors.  They were confused and curious enough to not dispatch him at once.  Their inquisitiveness was their downfall.  His plan worked.  They were captured.

He had saved the day.