The Billboard

When Rictor first saw the billboard, he was getting off the train, having been sent into the centre of the Big Apple to get some supplies for the team. The carriage that took him there was stuffy and heaving, packed with snobby city workers who all thought they were above him - a down trodden ex-mutant, even though they were all stuck in boring nine to five jobs, with little to no hope of ever going anywhere in life. He was pretty certain he’d seen more in the last ten or so years than all of them put together would see in their entire lives. There’d been psychotic serial killers, mutant terrorists with a scarily twisted view of the world, and hostile aliens from different planets and alternate dimensions. On the other side of the coin, some of the sights he’d seen were beautiful, such as watching the sun slowly set with Shatterstar down in Mexico, tired from an evening spent taking down yet another arm of his family’s gun running business. He’d even seen his boyfriend come back from the dead. That was something that he’d never forget, and quite possibly the only thing that hurt more than losing his powers.

Endless apartment blocks and high-rise offices towered above them, casting their gloom over the chugging metal prison. At least, it felt like a prison to Rictor. Why it had to be today of all days that Jamie decided the company Van needed repainting, he’d never know. Nevertheless, it was today, and so he was stuck on the train, surrounded by people he would gladly never see or hear again. He scowled down at the table in front of him, wishing the journey was over already. What good was ‘Star having teleportation skills, if he wouldn’t use them to transport his boyfriend around? Fuck anyone who might get hurt by them teleporting into the middle of a crowd. Muttering under his breath about his boyfriend’s explanation of why he couldn’t use his powers to take Rictor to the centre, only earned him strange, worried looks from the people around him, so he lapsed back into silence, still glaring at the table as if everything was its fault.

Eventually, after a journey that seemed to have lasted years, the train drew into the station, and so Rictor made his way off onto the platform, whilst being jostled every which way by the crowds surging to get to their individual destinations. Fighting his way through, he managed to reach the coffee stand near the exit, and shouted his order to make himself heard over the racket. A single mocha to go. Happening to glance to his left whilst waiting, he spotted a homeless man holding out a worn cap, begging the unseeing commuters for spare change. He felt a twinge inside, knowing full well what it was like to be starving and without a home, so amended his order to include a second drink. Taking the two cups from the barista, he closed the short distance between him and the destitute man, and then crouched down in front of him, offering him the second drink.

“I’ve been there man; I know what it’s like,” He explained, feeling a little embarrassed at the thanks that was so clearly evident in the man’s eyes and expression. Scarred hands gratefully took the steaming cup, and a hoarse voice asked, “How did you, y’know... get a life again, if you don’t mind me askin’?” Taken aback by the question, Rictor thought for a moment, trying to decide how to explain the uniqueness of his past, before simply settling on, “I managed to get a job.”

“No miracle escape then,” The guy laughed sadly, “I suppose all I can do is live in hope, but there is a fair bit of that around at the moment. The future’s looking brighter. I mean, take that new jeans advert – they’ve got what I’m pretty sure is the first ever mutant model!” Rictor smiled and nodded in reply even though he hadn’t seen the ad, prior to giving his excuses and heading towards the exit.

Outside, the sun was shining brightly, causing the Mexican to blink a few times before his eyes adjusted to the light. Only then did he see the billboard stretched across the side of a skyscraper, showing the advert that the homeless chap mentioned. The fact that the model was a mutant wasn’t what shocked him to a standstill though. The reason for that was his knowing of said mutant, rather intimately in fact. He was stood facing away from the camera; thumbs presumably hooked in his belt loops, but was looking back over his shoulder, the star shaped brand over his left eye noticeably visible, and staring straight at Rictor. A whirl of emotions flooded through him; jealousy, pride, anger, but also, perhaps not surprisingly, a sense of smugness at the fact that out of the millions of people that would see the giant image of this latest sex-god, he was the only one that got to go home and find him waiting for them; the only one who got to enact their fantasies about this denim clad deity.

All the same, he was still going to kill ‘Star when he got back to HQ.