“It’s about throwing your mind at the mass.” A brick flipped end over end above thick fingers, a single touch all Damien Farell needed to keep it seemingly hovering in the air. “All in the feel of it. Tactile, you know?”“...not really?” Blue eyes blinked back at the broader and taller boy, Justin Armstrong wearing a distinct look of confusion. It would be almost one-to-one with what Brick saw on Boomer’s face half the time but at least Boomer had the decency to be high-energy about his confusion.
The seventeen-year-old, on the other hand, just frowned like it was his older nephew’s fault he didn’t get it. “I get the concept, but like…” He leaned back against the fence next to Brick, blonde hair messy in his eyes. “You know I’m just kinda tough, right?”Just kinda tough. Brick rolled his eyes at the words leaving the older teenager’s mouth as if they made sense. Ten tons. That might have been less than what he could lift with his tongue, but still… Ten tons is not just kinda tough.
The backyard of the Grayson residence was cool despite the late August humidity, the smell of fresh lemonade Debbie had laid out on tables across the back porch. It was supposed to be a "recommended break," a chance to socialize with the few people on this planet who they actually knew and liked.
And also their mom.
“I mean, half the time, my knees lock up after a hard workout…”
Justin squinted at Damien from under his hair, still wearing the pained look of a teenager being asked to understand physics pre-lunch. “So, like…” As Brick expected, his attention didn’t last the full sentence before the older boy slid back down to his phone. “Yeah, I don’t even get what that tactile stuff even means.”
“You’re seventeen and super-powered, Justin.” Libby Armstrong stopped her hamstring stretch with a sharp snap, blue eyes meeting her brother’s from all the way across the yard. “These aren’t problems you actually have.”“Oh, yeah.” That was all it took to get the boy off his phone, slumping his butt into a white lawn chair. “Tell that to my knees.”“Your knees are fine.” Libby dropped back into her stretch, her raised leg almost a middle finger on its own. “You’re just lazy.”
“Y’all, chill.” Damien hung his head with a booming groan, brick dropping into his palm. “Your dad’s half-robot and he doesn’t even talk about biology this much.”
“Who’s talking about what biology?”
Justin’s face screwed up with a wince, soul halfway out of his body by the time he choked out a response. “Not like that, Mom.”“...uh-huh.” Claire Armstrong nodded slowly over at her son, her own eyes narrowed. A glass of lemonade sat in front of her, the patio table almost overfilled with them thanks to the hosting skills of one Debbie Grayson. “Let’s keep it that way.”“You’re gonna miss this, you know.”
Mrs. Super-Patriot turned her blonde head as the only other older woman present chuckled over at her.
It only took a second or two of those blue eyes blinking her way before Debbie Grayson settled down next to her with a tray of sandwiches and a smile. “When they go off to college, I mean.”“I…” Claire smiled back. “I’m just hoping to finally deal with less dents in my doorknobs.”A snort left Debbie almost immediately. “You know… I always wondered why Mark never had that problem?”Oh yeah. Brick nodded his head as he recalled something important. Mark’s supposed to be at college, right? How’d he get an excuse to go to space?
“Brick, sweetheart!”The sweetheart in question looked up, too used to the pet names to even sigh. “Yes, Ms. Debbie?”Debbie smiled back at him, the expression almost soft enough to let him ignore the deeper shadows under her eyes. Not sleeping still. Not good for her age. “Do you know when your brothers are going to be back?”“I…” That was a question on its own seeing as Mark’s mom had only sent them for ice about a minute back. Ideally, they should have been back a solid fifty-five seconds ago if they felt like being lazy about it. Seeing as it was his brothers, well…
For all I know, they could’ve gone up to Antarctica to fight a yeti for ice that never melted or something. Either that or they were bare-knuckle brawling over who got to carry the ice and present it to Ms. Debbie.
Brick fought the urge to let the scowl show on his face, annoyed at how either of those two options were equally likely. Idiots.
“...they might’ve just got lost.” His eye jumped, a twitch almost showing on his face at the most obvious lie ever. “They fly too fast sometimes. Could’ve overshot Baltimore.”“Oh…” The nice older lady simply blinked at that, nodding like it made perfect sense. “I hope they’re okay.”
…if they’re not, they’ll feel worse when I’m done with them. Tight smile still on his face, Brick slid his attention back to the teenager standing tall in front of him; Damien Farell’s six-something frame casting a sizeable shadow across turf and caramel skin bright under the sun.
The other meta still had a hand out, red construction bricks floating across the garden in front of him as he kept his focus on them. The fluctuations in the air were almost unnoticeable even to Brick’s enhanced eyes, distortions faint but trackable around the way light bent around Damien’s invisible grip; the unmistakable ripples where the lift was dragging behind intent.
“Cool, right?”Brick blinked up, his own focus broken. “Huh?”“I can see you looking.” Damien grinned down at him. “Your eyes are doing something real weird.”They… Fingers went up instinctively, Brick’s index drifting a bit too close to softer tissue before he blinked. They are?“I don’t mind, you know?” A small laugh escaped Damien as those bricks continued to drift in front of him in a steady loop. “Really don’t. Only reason I can do this is ‘cause of your little speech a little bit ago. Before that…”One arm went up to flex a muscle almost the size of Brick’s head. “I thought it was all just lifting power. Now I can just… ” The fingers on that outstretched hand curled in slow; one brick shuddered in the air, red dust raining down from it onto the grass. “Feel the grain.”
Brick blinked one more time, something in those words itching at his brain. Feel the grain. The bricks continued to hover as he stared, his own fingers twitching the longer he simply watched Damien manipulate them. Feel the grain.
Telekinesis…
It wasn’t magic.
Force application.
Energy projection through a tactile manipulation vector.
Feel the grain. A hand came to rest on his knee, palm facing upward as he refused to blink around the sight of those ripples. Feel the grain.
His eyes flared red.
His hand did too.
Not bright or overwhelming like his fire or his beams, but it still flared; a red-tinged translucent wave of pure pressure pulsing from his palm.
A gust of force ripped across the yard, glass flattened and oak trees rustled before Justin’s lawn chair flipped entirely over; the boy in it tumbled to the dirt with a yelp, limbs tangled and sunglasses flying.
“Man…” The three bricks floating in front of Damien wobbled, dropping to the grass in three separate thuds as the older boy stared back at Brick. “What powers don't you guys have?"
Brick blinked down at his empty hand, the glow gone as he realized he honestly had no answer to that question. “I’m… I’m not s-”“WE’RE BACK!”A shout and a flare of blue and green silenced Brick as both his brothers appeared in the center of the backyard; both of them bruised and beaten as Butch brandished a bowl that was as big as he was, the thing ornately-carved and filled with ice that was, for some reason, glowing.“...why’s everyone looking at us weird?”