Colliding Stars #1

The night shift at Martinelli’s Mart & Deli is one of the least stimulating jobs a twentysomething could ask for. The place was already vacant most of the day, so you could imagine how little traffic comes here at three in the morning. The night shift basically only exists for college kids and overworked dads so that they have someone to help them make late night beer runs. Still, I appreciate the silence. I’ve spent too much of my life working my ass off trying to keep the world spinning; it’s nice to have a job with low stakes and plenty of free time. Compared to my last gig, it’s second only to heaven.

A speaker in the ceiling lets off a soft, yet distorted ping as the door flings inward and a poorly-shaved man with a bandana walks in. As he walks up to the counter, I hear the faint clang of metal from one of his pockets.

He’s planning on robbing the store, isn’t he?

Sure enough, the stranger immediately pulls his bandana over his face with one hand and rips his pistol out of his pocket. “Stick 'em up, bitch.”

I quickly size up the robber, and instantly realize that this guy’s nothing to worry about. Firstly, his eye has an anxious twitch to it– a quick and easy indicator of inexperience. Second, his finger’s completely sliding up and down the trigger, suggesting that he didn’t know proper handgun form. This is confirmed by the fact that he’s crossing his thumbs behind the pistol, which is a recipe for injury. Finally, and most damning, his arms are shaking, implying either a lack of precise motor control, an unwillingness to actually shoot, or both. He’s obviously scared shitless, and he desperately doesn’t want me to notice. I need to make sure he knows I’m on his wavelength.

I look directly into the robber’s eyes. “Look, pal, I know you don’t want to do this-”

“Shut the fuck up!” he barks, clearly unprepared to take a life.

““I get that times are tough, and sometimes you gotta do whatever it takes. That being said, Martinelli’s been hurting for cash for quite some time now, and this is all he has.”

“What would either of you know about hurting for cash, huh?” the robber yells, distraught.

“I live in a tent in the woods,” I explained. This seemed to freeze the robber in thought. “Listen, I can’t give you anything, but if you leave now, I’ll erase the security tapes. Martinelli won’t know, the police won’t know, it’ll just be our little secret,” I confirm.

For a second, the robber seems lost in his own head. Slowly, he allows his shoulders to relax, and he begins to lower the gun. “I’m really sorry, I-.”

“It’s all good,” I answer. “Just try not to leave any evidence here. Don’t want to have to explain any of this to Martinelli.”

“No problem,” he answers back, walking out of the store. “See you around?”

“Preferably under different circumstances, yeah” I reply.

As the almost-thief walks out of the door, the tension releases from my body in a heavy sigh. That was a close call. If anything went even a little south, I would’ve had to get physical, and lord knows he wouldn’t have survived that. And great timing too; a familiar chestnut-eyed college dropout has just arrived for her nightly hangout.

“Are you alright, Hayley?” asks Shameika. “I heard screaming.”

“It was nothing. Just an argumentative customer,” I lie.

“Some customers,” she jeers, prying open the front freezer.

“Yeah,” I sigh. “Anyway, at least he’s out of my hair.”

“Good for him, too,” Shameika answers, her grumpy expression turning to one of mischievous glee. “He didn’t look like someone who could handle the Shameika Park special,” she said, flexing her slightly chubby arms.

I chuckle. “I doubt he could.”

Shameika pulls a cheap ice cream sandwich out from the freezer, before peeling it open. Normally, I’d reprimand her for stealing from right in front of me. However, after surviving that stickup, I figure a good ice cream would make for a much-deserved reward. Not to mention, I'm going to be deleting all the security footage from tonight anyway.

A chuckle-adjacent noise escapes Dr. Gilman’s head. “You cling to the illusion of continuity as if it will save you. I can assure you it will only leave you empty.” 

“Feeling daring, I shee,” said Shameika, mouth half-full of ice cream.

“After that last guy, I deserve some compensation,”

“That bad, huh?”

“Plus, it’s 3 AM, and if I don’t get any sugar in my system, I might actually die of exhaustion.”

Miss Hawkins, you are quite the rebel.” Shameika says in a mocking tone. She immediately pulls a delicious Chocolate Cookie Crumble Cone out from the freezer, knowing full well it was what I would ask for.

“And so, for a glorious minute, we sit eating ice cream together. It’s pure junk, the place is uncomfortably humid, and the fan’s making a weird noise, but that’s all I need. It’s a deeply average, unremarkable moment in my life, and it doesn’t need to be anything more than that. All I needed was a two-dollar ice cream and a friend to share it with while regaling weird stories about her day to me.

Unfortunately, today's story was a little too weird.

“By the way, you never told me you have a brother,” says Shameika.

My eyebrow crooks upward. “What?”

“Your brother? I ran into him earlier,” she clarifies.

“I don’t have a brother,” I respond.

“Really?” asked Shameika. “He looked just like you."

I can feel the warmth drain from my face as I begin to piece together the worst possible outcome. I plant my hands on Shameika’s shoulders. “Shameika, what was his name?”

Shameika begins staring at me like I've got a live grenade in my hand. “What? Why are you-”

“What was his name?!?”

My terror and her confusion are both cut short by the faint sizzle of a roaring flame off in the distance. As we turn to look outside, we see the silhouette of a young man engulfed in a cloak of fire like a raging star. Sweat radiates from my face as I’m greeted by the unmistakable image of Kid Stardust.

Before the word “run” can leave my lips, Kid Stardust collides hands-first with my body and shoves me out the other side of Martinelli’s. Like a comet crossing the cosmos, we leave a beautiful glowing streak as we hurdle to the edge of the woods. With enough force, I’m able to break free from Stardust’s grip, and I hurdle towards the ground. As my body collides with the ground, it leaves a nasty tear into the forest floor like a bullet grazing flesh. As I recenter myself from that vicious fall, Stardust floats down to the ground to taunt me.

“Incredible,” he says. “You get seven years to yourself, and you choose to spend them working the cash register.”

“At least I've actually lived seven years,” I retort. “How’d you even get to this universe?”

Kid Stardust smirked. “Let’s just say that Dr. Mañana was exceptionally helpful.”

I leap back up onto my feet. “What did you do to him?” I bark.

“What isn’t nearly as important as why, Erik,” he continued. “I’ve been searching for you,” he sneers.

“I don’t see why,” I reply. “After all, we’re both pretty disposable.”

“Old habits die hard, eh?” Gilman says. “Very well, what do you need me to do?”

Stardust slams his fist directly into my head, sending. my skull bouncing off the ground like a basketball. “Not today,” he says. “Now, you’re everything that stands between us and the Grand Ambition.”

“Eradiking,” I growl.

“Oh come now. I assumed you would recognize the commanding voice of the King of Sector 7 a little quicker.”

For the first time in decades, I smile back.