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Static Mark:  Wounds Part 1
By: Daniel Maher

Wounds.  Life is filled with them, but most of them heal.  Knife wounds, scratch wounds, bite wounds, gunshot wounds, these wounds all heal.  But the worst kind of wounds are the emotional wounds, the trauma wounds.  These sort of wounds never heal.

When I was twelve-years-old my parents died in a lab accident.  That wound never has, and never will heal.  Even now, seven years later, I can still feel the pain of that wound.  When they died I didn’t go to the funeral, the pain hurt too much.  But unlike most funerals, there was no open casket; no memory of them.  All there really was happened to be two piles of icy cold ash.

Now that I am a superhero I don't really get the chance to sit down and think about them a lot.  But when I do, every memory of them goes to my heart and loosens all pain.

It had been months since I had stopped the second post-Ritiki war from happening.  Since then I had locked myself in my suite and simply thought about everything.  After the word got out that I had helped to stop the Ritiki, many magazines wanted to feature me in it.  Some of these magazines were Hero, Paragon Powers, Capes, and Capes for Kids.  But time after time I refused each offer.  I wasn’t really the attention grabbing kind of hero, so instead I just stayed inside.

When my parents died I was devastated, but still something tugged on my mind.  My parents were very strong and careful people.  At the time of the accident they had been wearing radioactive-proof suits and--under that--a layer of fire-proof material.  In their wills, they had never asked to be cremated, and they could not have been burned through their fire-proof suits.

After tossing this idea through my mind I had decided to hire a team of detectives to find out what really happened to my parents.  That was months ago, and still they haven’t found anything.  I had started to consider the idea that by some accident they accidentally were cremated, but now I have thrown that idea away.

About three weeks ago there was a news report about a group of thugs called cover-up.  Apparently they have been paid to cover-up murders for over twenty years.  Just now they have been found out about.  If I am correct then my parents murder was no accident.  

My thoughts were broken as a bell rang through the house.  The door bell.  I didn’t want to go to it.  I didn’t want to have another microphone shoved in my face by some red-haired reporter with a blouse and an over-tan and blood-red lips.  I shuddered.  The bell rang again.  Pause.  And again.  I sighed and cursed as I rolled off the bed and to my feet.  

When I opened the door I was puzzled.  There was no one there.  Probably some dumb kids. I thought.  Wait, why would kids ring again and again until I came.  Yet still, no one was there.  I stepped out into the hall and tripped on a box lying on the floor.  On the box, in sloppy handwriting, was a note.  It read: STATIC MARK.

I grinned and dragged the box into my apartment.  I mean, I literally had to drag it.  This thing must have weighed a ton!  I dragged it to my sofa.  And shut the door.  Sitting on the sofa I examined the box. It was only about two-and-a-half feet tall and the same wide.  I cut the tape and opened it.  On top there was a layer of tissue paper.  I removed it.  Underneath was a plain white envelope, and under that was another layer of tissue paper.  I picked up the card.
On the front, in flowing gold markings, read; S.M. I turned it over.  There was a red-wax stamp with C.U. embedded in the wax.  I got a letter opener and carefully cut through the wax.  I pulled out a letter typed in the same flowing gold print that was on the front.

Dear Static Mark,

From afar we observed your fight with the Ritiki.  You are an extraordinary warrior, congratulations.  You have passed our tests. I hope you enjoy our gift, and my deep apology for the small parts we had in their "accidents".  I’m sure you know what I am talking of.  But if you don’t our gifts enclosed will show you.  Goodbye, and don’t worry, you will be hearing from us again.

Your friends,
(1,2,6)(2,1,3)(2,4,6)(2,4,7)(2,5,4)
(2,10,3)(3,6,1)

I read the letter again.  It made no sense.  Not just the strange ending but the entire thing.  What were they talking about?  Then I understood the ending.  By taking the line, word, and letter in that word I was able to find two words:

Dear StatiC Mark,

FrOm afar we obserVEd youR fight with the Ritiki.  YoU are an extraordinary warrior, congratulations.  You have Passed our tests.

.........COVER UP.  

I stared at the paper in disbelief.  Now the entire letter made sense, now I could get my revenge.


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