How Not to be a Superhero! Part 5

Part 6

Irene Gets a visit from Barns (no not that one)


The hangover Mrs. Irene Watts woke up with that morning sent her head pounding at the merest hint of sunlight, it crept through the a split in the curtains like an unwanted stray, persistent but ultimately not wanted around these parts. The drinks with girls the night before had been heavy, to proud to mention it to the girls she was worried about Reggie; the police had contacted her again about the strange behaviour of her son and he had not been home for a couple of days now. She had been checking his bed regularly hoping he had crept in at some point and gone straight to bed. His boss the - nice man Barry as he insisted on her calling him – had said Reginald could take as much time as he needed, although she knew it did not look good her son not showing up to work even with a boss that understanding there was only so much they would take and it was a good job; she was very proud of him.
Even squinting her eyes as tight as she could the sunlight still hit her, with her pounding head and lurching stomach she chided her self, it was a ridiculous state for a lady of her years to get into.
She rolled over and froze.
Her room was the same as much of the house decorated in a style that was thirty years out of date, her George had decorated this room his self and beside some obvious discolouration near the ceiling it was in perfect condition, clean and well looked after her antique double wardrobe made of solid oak, and her dressing table, she looked again making sure the shadows weren't playing tricks on her. Her heart began to yammer in her chest, he breathing quickened – someone was sitting on her dressing table stool.
“Reggie?” She said sitting up knowing that this man had the wrong shape to be her son, a hunched figure and the smell – he smelt like...death.
“'Fraid not Ma'am.” The man was wearing a thick brown trench coat, stained with old food and bird shit, his hair lank black and lank either side of his sunken bearded face, while his head was topped with an old tattered red knitted head, which was so threadbare in places that his thick hair jutted out.
“What do you want? Get out of my house this instant!” she was retching, the stench of this man was doing little to ease her stomach.
“I'll be out of your way soon ma'am.” The man had a terrible american accent, like he was forcing it between his bloated lips, “But I need to know where Barns is first, his stench is everywhere.”
“Barns?” She shook, “I don't know any Barns not round here, I think Jim's daughter is a Bonds.”
He growlled low, “I'm sure its Barns, Laurence Barns.”
Here heart felt like it left her chest and was trying to force its way up her windpipe as she began struggling to breath, she knew that name all right it had been plastered over every newspaper over this last week – this...this was the killer. Her mouth began moving but nothing came out, she could fill a shriek beginning to well up somewhere inside her.
“I know that look lady, I know it well,” He smirked, “scream and I snap you.” He caught her throat before she could move and it came out as a strangled gulp, “I ain't in the mood for old ladies and I ain't gonna' kill you if you tell me where Barns is.”
The problem Irene faced at this point was she didn't know a Laurence Barns.


By time Brandon was slipping on the white coat deep under the Hpyer-man museum his father looked up, “Thought you'd be back” He said.
“How much do you know dad?”
His father cleared some papers off of the table, “I found the card you stole, I watched the video.”
A subway train rumbled in one of the distant tunnels covering them in a fine layer of shaken dust, so far it had not proven practical to fit anti-grav underground, so the trains still ran the old fashioned way – slow and regularly late, not that the anti-grav bullet trains were much better.
He crossed over glancing over at some of his fathers writings and doodles, he dusted off several, “I should be telling you to pack that thing back up and telling you to forget it.” He sneezed, “dust.” he shrugged.
“But you won't Bran, cause it calls to you too much you want to know, like I do what makes our family special that this virus only affects us and what are the chances that the only person on earth who is affected by it is the same man who finds it? I mean the odds are ridiculous.” He laughed.
Bran looked at it gleaming on the table, it's big green H seemed to wink in the dim light, “Your not worried about being infected by it, just laying there.”
“Not really it's old I suspect three Hyper-men would have pretty much used it up and it obviously needs a host to survive once this baby was cracked open it probably only had a certain shelf life.”
“Or it went dormant waiting for another host.”
His father grinned, it was almost as if... “You don't want the Power. Dad?”
“Why not, I'm nearly fifty-five Bran you can have at least fifteen maybe twenty-years, imagine the good I could do, Hyper-man flying again.”
“The world doesn't need a Hyper-man, what I need is a father however.”
“Don't be so naïve Bran it doesn't suit you, your not a stupid boy your going to be my link I need you to find out what is in our genes that make us susceptible to this virus.”
He rubbed his forehead, not having seen his father this animated for a long time he wanted the legacy he wanted the power, it was obvious and yet it made sense why shouldn't their be another Hyper-man it was not as if crime was gone, it had been a long time since Bruce had brutally cleaned up Neopolis and criminal elements had crept back in.
Picking up the H-sphere Brandon held it at a distance letting the light reflect off of it, “Just where did you come from?”


“My son, he'll be home soon.” Irene whimpered as she drew her bedclothes up to her chin, as if they would provide some kind of protection from this mad man.
The crazy man just stared at the ludicrous floral wallpaper and drooled, “You know.” He said ignoring what Irene said he was not concerned about Reggie. “Where I came from I found something out.” He nodded sadly letting his head droop, “It was too late by then I'd already destroyed them all.” Gritting his teeth, “I didn't mean to!”
Sensing some weakness, a moment he was distracted she slipped the heavy porcelain statue from her bedside table under the covers.
“You said you found something out?” she said inching closer, he palms sweating, he didn't consider her a threat he barely remembered where he was, the stench of Barns was so strong here it didn't make sense.
“I did, I discovered I wasn't real none of my life was real I was just made up.”
“Made up?” She was nearly behind him now.
He nodded, with a small laugh that was nearly a whimper he said “Fictional, I'm a fictional character. Ah I don't know why I'm even telling you this.” He turned not expecting her to be so close his eyes widedend, “What're you...” she didn't give him time she threw all her power into brining the statue down onto the centre of his head, it hit with a sickening crack, it smashed cutting her hands and embedding in the madmans head.
“You...” He looked hurt, they way a puppy does when it doesn't understand why you've tapped its nose for being naughty, “You BITCH!” he raged.
Irene never had experienced a surge of adrenaline like she did know she knew very well that to stay here would mean death, sliding out of the bed she fell out the door of her room as he began to stand, she staggered after her as she slid on her hands backwards away from him, he leaned heavily on the door frame – his wound affecting him. He fell forwards landing painfully on his knees giving her time to gain hers and make her way down the stairs calling for help as she went.
She flung open the street door, still in her nightgown, hangover forgotten she screamed for someone to help, several doors opened she didn't have much to do with the neighbours but relations were not bad they gathered around her to offer help. When settled in the house of a neighbour a few doors down they looked on horrified as she told them what had happened, “Call the police.” her neigbour Peter said of his wife Dawn, “I'll check out the house for you Mrs. Watts.”

Peter kept a baseball bat by his bed just for such occasions, well as a defence for his own home but he was not about to let an elderly lady be harassed in her own home. Probably had something to do with that no good son of hers, in the papers making a show of him self, he entered the Watts household with no hesitation but the intruder was long gone the only sign being some blood at the top of the hallway landing.


The homeless man cradled his head wound it felt like an army was marching through it, she had done well, better than most he would have killed her whatever the out come, she was sneaky, he liked sneaky – he could be very sneaky. As he watched the tall dark man enter the house he just vacated he considered killing him, it was tempting. Yet ultimately pointless he was not a Barns just a moron with a bat soon the place would be crawling with police; he'd done well to avoid them so far, with this body failing him it was only a matter of time before he died properly, he wondered if Laurence was having the same problems.
Laurence was here or had been here though and recently in this house it would warrant keeping an eye once things had calmed down.



In the five months since the H-sphere had been dug out the dingy basement of a the museum had been transformed into a well lit, modern functional lab. Father and son worked tirelessly and no one knew what it was that they worked on, Brans wife had taken the kid and left with no word two months before hand the arguments had grown in scale as he dedicated more of his time to his secret project – they were onto something but it was nothing that was any good to them.
Bran was feeling increasingly sick, it wasn't the virus contained in the Sphere but it was a common earth virus, long hours and little sleep or nourishment meant he had come down with flu and a harsh bout of it at that. Being a a specialist in bio-science, biology and the study of virus's as a major he had a good idea of the flu and had written several papers on it from its origins through the 20th century and onwards and since then the virus had become much more of a bastard than it had been in the start. The problem with it was its ability to adapt, mutate it was fascinating. Until of course you had it, then you just wanted to die from the weakenss, the pain and all the other ailments that came with it, not many people died of it these days but it could not be eradicated either, and as cancer had not been a problem in over three decades it proved how adaptable this virus was.
“How you feeling son?” His dad said entering the lab and throwing on a dirty white lab coat.
“Like I want to die and get it over and done with, other than that good.” he coughed.
“And any luck with out other virus friend?”
Bran had been working the night, he and his father took it in alternate goes, “No, its being a little bitch. I think dad the problem is that we're just not compatitble anymore, I've studied the D.N.A of both Laurence and Bruce we don't have any of the first Hyper-man's, which is a shame as it may be the missing link. The problem we seem to be facing is that although pretty much the same in appearance there are subtle differences in our make-up. All of our own doing; the nano-health service isn't helping either. The situation as it stands is I've got 20 billion nanobots combating this flu virus which pretty much renders my immune system useless and at the same time fantastic I don't think this virus would affect Laurence or Bruce if they were alive in our time. The NHS means that the world is swarming with nano-tech and it just fights it.”
His father considered briefly, a sparkle came to his eye as he said, “But you've got the flu.”
“So?”
“That a virus that can get in.”
“Yes.”
“And what do we know about the flu.”
The same sparkle entered Brans eyes, “Dad you are a genius, we mutate my modern day flu with the hyper-virus meaning it could infect you and the nano-bots would struggle. You'd get the hyper-flu-virus.”




Part 7.

(Reginald chooses his fate)


Reggie had made a decision just after his chat with Laurence he was going to take charge of his life, no more sitting in a stuffy office being the ridicule of his colleagues the first thing he was going to do was resign from his company he had worked there now for twenty years and it was time for a change, a time to tell Los Conquistador or Barry as he was called where to shove it, time to knock the tombstones down Russelles stupid throat. He felt a new man and it wasn't because he was now insane, Laurence had cleared a lot up for him, shown him an impossible world where people looked up to a hero and were helped. While he could never be the hero that Laurence was he could still help people; he might even learn to tolerate his mother more.
Since their falling out Laurence had remained fairly quiet, he sensed frustration in there but a tad of enthusiasm for the way Reggie was being positive on his life, he might even give Veronica that nice woman from the BBC a call to see if she still wanted to dinner with him.
With some determination he was about to pull the door to the office building that had been his prison all of these years, forgetting it was electric it opened itself and he more stumbled into the building.
Way to go Reggie: start as you mean to go on. He didn't know if the thought was his own or Laurence's, he was chided by it anyway and had never known himself to use the sentence way to go at any point in his life.
Just as he was halfway across the foyer his mobile phone buzzed in his pocket, he'd forgotten about it assuming the battery was long dead, he spun away from the watching receptionist as he flipped it open, the caller I.D was unknown; he answered it anyway.
His determination drained away as did the colouring from his face as his neighbour told him of the attack on his mother that morning, the police had already been called but Peter said he should come home as quick as he could, the note of reproach in his voice made Reg feel ashamed of himself and his actions of these weeks – who after all was he trying to convince he could change his mind, “Thank you Paul – sorry peter, thank you Peter for looking after her I'll be home as quick as I can.”
“This is your fault Barns.” He whispered but Laurence never answered.
The journey home was like a nightmare, passing with an excruciatingly slow journey and although the Jubilee Line was promising a Good Service in his head it was a mind numbing twenty minutes where all he could think of was getting home. He didn't bother catching a bus from North Greenwich he headed to taxi rank and told the driver where he needed to get to, in movies Reggie knew they'd offer a tip for speed apparently that didn't work in London but the man did speed up somewhat as Reggie briefly outlined that his mother had been attacked.
He tipped the driver anyway, telling him to keep the change and rushed into the home of Peter and Dawn, his mother sat looking shaken but otherwise unhurt clutching a cup of steaming tea, still in her night gown and without any make-up he knew his mother would never – ever go out in this condition.
There was a police officer, female, sat with her and he hadn't noticed any police about but he supposed their must have been he just hadn't noticed in his rush, never in his life had he seen this strong willed woman look so defeated...so fragile a lump rose in his throat.
“Mr Watts?” The police officer said.
He nodded dumbly.
“Take a seat, I'm WPC Julie Warmer, I was just talking to your mother it seems she's been a very lucky woman.”
“What happened?” he said taking a seat as Dawn poured him a cup of tea, without asking.
“We believe the Laurence Barns killer broke into your house this morning looking for a Laurence Barns.”
“But we don't know any one of that name.” Reg lied, why would they come to us?”
“We don't know that yet. If you don't mind Mr. Watts I'd like to ask you a few questions.”
“Of course.”

For nearly an hour he sat an talked to the WPC after which he'd established that he didn't know a Laurence Barns, even though he did and when they checked with the Charing Cross branch of the met after he had been detained their recently they would know very well he thought he was Barns, how was that going to look? He was beginning to panick, how was he going to get out of this. There was only one thing to do he was going to have to find the man responsible in the time he had left, he was going to have to find him and he was going to have to confront him, the fact was he was coming to realise that many men young and old had lost their lives while because someone was looking for the thing in his head and he had shrugged it off, how could he have been so stupid.
“We're willing to offer you police protective custody until we find this man.” She said, “we are closing the net on him, it wouldn't be long.”
“No.” He said.
“Reggie?” Irene looked horrified.
“Mum you go into hiding its for the best, I'm going to stay around here.” He smiled weakly, “After all he didn't find what he wanted so what are the chances he'll come back?” But come back was exactly what Reggie was hoping for.



Part 8

(Forgotten Future.)



The crazy homeless man cracked his neck, the pleasure of it rippled through his body as his head felt lighter. Since that stupid old woman had cracked him over the head he hadn't felt right, he had thought he might have been dying but it wasn't the case. If anything he was feeling stronger. The wound was healing already, even though his stinking hair was matted with blood it now looked far worse that it was.
From his vantage point he saw something that interested him greatly, he licked his cracked lips as he watched the fat man enter the house, could that be him? Was this Barns as he looked now, the stink was certainly there. He shuddered with delight he would find Barns he would find the creator and he would make everything he had done all right.


“Ready dad.”
Brandon's father was strapped to the medical chair, intravenous tubes fed him fluids directly into his bloodstream, heart monitors were set up, the man looked a mess of wires. Steady beeps every few seconds came from the heart monitor, his father was more than ready Bran knew it. While he felt no better from his own flu he was learning to live with it after two weeks the nanobots flowing through his bloodstream did not seem to be doing a very good job, if he wasn't better by the end of the week he could afford to take the day off to visit the doctor, a human one at that not one of the new synth doctors, they were for the poor and they diagnoses were sometimes leathal, still free health care for everyone, what a joke. He was one of the lucky ones who could pay to see a real life human, it was much safer that way, with the nano-health service they were also quite a rarity these days – it was projected that in twenty years there would be no human doctors left, scary.
It had been a matter of fine tuning the samples of H-virus and a sample of modern flu into a plasma that they were going to feed into Brandon's father while hitting him with a mini-EMP shock hopefully disabling most of the nanos in him, so the virus could really work its way in.
Bran sighed, it was risky after all when the nanobots were down it would mean he was open to every infection going, Bran sneezed, things like that were not going to help.
“Okay son?” said the mass of wires and cables that underneath somewhere was his father.
“Just contemplating it's not to late to stop this.”
“Not on your life Brandon this is my destiny, the Barns family are meant to be hero's.”
“All right dad, break a leg. Oh and remember none of the Hyper-men had quite the same powers. Larry was invincible, he could take a shot from a gun and withstand the vigors of space, Laurence could do space but his powers were more to do with speed and agility but he could be shot as much as the next man, although he healed very quick and Bruce he was a strong man, he lift unimaginable weights he could jump well as well but he couldn't fly.”
“I know, I've only been curator here all my life.” He laughed but it was tipped with nervousness.
“Good, I'm introducing the virus now, prepair for EMP pulse.” Bran threw the switch disabling the nanobots inside his dad, he only had a space of thirty seconds, his hands were sure as he introduced the virus into his father, he was mad and worse his mother was going to kill him when she found out what their secret project was.
The lights went dead as the EMP pulse hit, the heart monitor sparked and went dead, everything went dead. The room was so dark Bran couldnt even see his hand in front of him the EMP had been stronger than they had intended he hoped they hadn't knocked out too much.
His breath caught if it had been that strong it would have knocked out his own nanobots it meant he was 20 billion units down to fight his own infection, how long would it take for them to reboot? Shit.
“Dad?” there was nothing but the sound of something dripping onto a pipe somewhere. He heard the large door to the basement being hauled open as a torch light beam shone down, “Everyone okay?” the female voice called.
“Alison!” Bran called, “I need help, its dad he's not moving.” By now Bran was sifting through the mass of wires in the dark, ripping out bits and pieces trying to get to his dad. The museum secretary hurried down with the light.
She shone it over the man that had been Bran's father, he was glassy eyed, cold to the touch, “No.” Bran whispered, the idea had been risky but not this risky he was already cold to the touch.
“What happened?” Alison asked, the beam of the light now shivering with her arm, “What happened to Mr. Barns is he...Bran...he's not...”
“Just hold the torch Alison please I need to get him to a hospital.” He was feeling weaker, sweat had began to glisten his forehead, it was like he could feel the virus moving deeper into his body – his muscles began to ache, burn even. As weak as he felt he had no problems lifting the body of his father out of the basement of the building.
They got out into the foyer, the museum was closed it had been for hours, it was cold and quiet without and people, eerie and somehow fitting.
“Alison are you okay?” the woman looked double her age since he had seen her last, large hollow puts hung clung desperatly to her eye balls, the cheeks were pointed and thin, she looked like an animated corpse, “I don't know. I think I might have caught your flu.” Her skin was becoming a worrying grey colour, “Get some rest take the week off. Have you called the ambulance.”
She nodded, them collasped by the side of the cold body of his father, by time the ambulance arrived she had died as well wasted away to nearly a skeleton, lank grey skin clung despratly to her bones but there was little more than that. Bran looked between them, he was starting to feel great, better than great and it was then he began to realise what what had gone wrong, but not quite how serious yet.
By time they had he had accompanied the paramedics to the hospital where he filled out some formality forms, he had yet to contact his mother he felt numb, his father an Alison in the space of half an hour. They weren't even worth human doctors and he knew a synth was good enough to pronunce something dead.
By time he left the hospital the paramedics were dead, wasted away to nothing by time Bran made it home half of the hospital staff had died, wasted away to nothing. When he managed to fix the television after the EMP pulse the block around the hospital was dead, wasted away to nothing.
The president was calling an emergency meeting the EMP at this moment was being treated as the work of cyber-terrorists. It was only supposed to be a small one what had gone wrong?
It had knocked the NHS out as well, he didn't have to be a genius to work out that adding the hyper-virus to the common virus meant that it was speading supercharging the cells of everyone in bodies that weren't able to cope and wasting them to nothing.
By time Bran went for a walk he realised he could begin to hover, he laughed at the irony he'd gotten the hyper-powers and he'd unleashed a virus that was killing everyone, by time he made it to his mothers house was long dead, along with his wife and child. The city was dead by that evening and the hyper-flu-virus was working its way across the country the president didn't have to worry about cyber-terrorists (not that there had been any that was Bran too) he was dead by the early hours of the following morning – wasted away to nothing.
By the end of the week Brandon was alone in the world, with powers to rival Laurence Barns and a destroyer of the human race it was the ultimate irony that Hyper-man four had killed everyone.
It was worse for him perhaps as he had no escape from what he had done, bodies littered the world, stinking germ, ridden and bloating. This was his families legacy this was Laurence Barns fault the most famous of the hyper-men had forced his father into this.
As Bran gradually lost his sanity, alone on the world will do that to a man even a supercharged one, he began seeking ways of fixing this or at least stopping it from happening.
He had powers now that far surpassed any of the previous Hyper-men he spent hours in the museum going over the histories, he needed Larry he needed the first Hyper-man to discover the H-shpere but if he cut the line at Laurence none of this would have happened everyone would be alive. He dug around in the archives and he found the perfect identity he was the Sludge of the world, the destroyer the mad king nothing.
Hyper-man he discovered had an enemy called Sludge a mockery of his self, records stated Sludge claimed to be a future Hyper-man and what was more perfect than that, he would kill Laurence it was the only way. The question was how did he get back in time?




The tramp hopped off the wall, a cocksure spring in his step that had been nothing more than a hobble before, he spat some black mucus off to one side as he stalked Reggie, there was something about this man, he certainly wasn't the Laurence Barns he had battled for year yet he was hardly the Brandon Barns that he had been once upon a time, that all round perfect son who had been driven mad by his own crimes and loneliness.
He watched the fat man lock up the house that must be his home, the old woman was of no concern now this man reeked like Laurence like him this man must contain the essence of the man who had been Hyper-man, he sneered it was such a weak feeble shell he inhabited this wasn't even going to be a challenge, still the death of Barns, there was a perverted almost orgasmic feeling about the destruction of the other man he felt stirrings in places he hadn't felt stirrings in for a very long time.
The man, the fat disgusting, weak man headed up to the top of his road, the tramp followed at a discrete distance moving away from the sight of the police that still patrolled the area, it was good to see they were as inept in this world as they had been in Neopolis, how many had he killed? He couldn't even remember any more his brain was so twisted and ravaged there was nothing left in there that a human would understand, the hyper-flu-virus had twisted him.
But, and here was the fun part, here he was just normal no powers just cunning and insanity on his side. The fat man had turned onto the main road – the tramp followed, past the corner fast food joint which he read was Star Express it smelt wonderful, past the supermarkets along the main road they continued.
Brandon rubbed his lips together his dick was hard now he grinned, “Well done fat man I'm going savour you. Fattie, fattie, fattie Laurence Barns.”


Brandon could move fast, his power had increased to the point where he had long ago broken the sound barrier he was approaching light speed he was able to vibrate every molecule in his body he had slipped through reality once – it was crazy but it was a step in the right direction, but what he saw their disturbed him he saw a young boy eight or nine, blond, stupid face drawing, it was childish drawings but it was unmistakeably him, the child was drawing him!
Shaken he had stopped the vibration and returned back to where he started.
A year passed a whole year! He was frustrated their were skeletons everywhere the carrion birds had picked everything clean rats infested the city, making it their own kingdom now the humans had gone on vacation – permanently. The Bhondi tower had collapsed with no one to maintain it and in Sludge had destroyed the halls of justice out of pure frustration. It was the silence, the dead city was so quiet other than the rats there was nothing.
And there was the kid, that stupid kid he had seen him several times over the course of this time, every time he slipped reality the boy was twelve now and he was still drawing, comic books of him and of Laurence fighting, the artwork was still useless at best the kid had no talent what-so-ever but it was obvious enough what was going on, why was he being drawn to this stupid kid?
Every hour of every day he moved at speeds that his body couldn't take, he was thin now, his body a wire like sinew of what had once been muscle, his lips were cracked and blackened, disfiguring scars marred his face as the virus ravaged his body and mind and every thought of destruction of Laurence Barns meant none of this would happen he was so very close.
The months rolled onwards and before he knew it another year had past and he was about to have his last revelation the kid was now a young man, he never phased fully in he was always in a state of flux, as far as he knew he was the first Barns to have this transdimensional power (heh he knew the stupid blond kid didn't know he could do that he'd probably have crapped his pants to know how close Sludge was to him) but it was obviously now, the talent for his drawings had improved dramatically not to the stage of being amazing but everything was in proportion and it was obvious so obvious what was happening here. Hyper-man was this kids creation he watched as the emergence of Laurence Barns was illustrated and felt sick to his stomach none of it was real! It was fictional, no he knew it was more but this kid, this stupid spotty kid was the answer he could change it, in fact he had written it or was going to write it if he'd just done the arrival of Barns it was at some point in his future.
First Barns then the kid, he knew Barns was the link after all Laurence had been the hero no one really cares about their villains when their creating stuff and have no idea that they're messing with lives, feelings.
With what he'd learned about shifting realities he knew somehow he was never going to real in that creators world but in Laurence's world he could be very real, he began to vibrate faster than he had ever done so before, taking off he moved at speeds faster than the eye could follow circling the globe many times a second always pushing faster, Laurences' Neopolis fixed firmly in his thoughts, at some stage he had caught fire – the burning sensation doing little to halt his determination he rememberd in one of the classic movies where their had been a time travelling car the top speed they had to do was only 88 miles per hour a truly pathetic speed in comparison to what he was doing he had out raced light and was now blind because of it, he was seeing strange colours now a shimmering which was followed by a massive silent shockwave which took over. Now no longer in control he hurtled back towards the ground.
When he came too he knew he had made it, when he looked down he realised he was clutching a rolled up collection of paper, where it had come from he didn't know but he could have laughed out loud across the top in pencil was drawn: Hyper-man # 1, this was Laurences' origin story.