SyphonSyndrome

Ch 1: A New Obsession?


It was ten o’clock on a Friday night. A young woman, about 26 years old. She was about 5’6’’ in height. Her mid-length dark brown hair was up in a high red ponytail, the strands swaying in the breeze.


Her build was rather average. In fact, her whole appearance practically screamed Plain Jane. The only thing that made her abnormal was the fact that she was a Super. She had an incredibly rare ability; Siphon. Just touching another Super would allow her to absorb their powers for a set time.


Her name was Harley Dowers.


She was walking home from another night of work in the office. She was a telemarketer, working the night shift; 4 pm to 10 pm Monday through Friday. And Saturday afternoon from 1-5. Given her irritability, the job would get to her.


It is a tough job. An incredibly thankless one as well, everyone hates telemarketers. She knew the pitches by heart, given her short-term memory, she was shocked, pleasantly mind you.


It got to the point where she was dreaming about sales, the ultimate pitch nabbing a particularly obnoxious customer. She could spout the pitch on command.


She yawned, exhausted from countless no’s and very few yes’s. She hadn’t commissioned at all this week! So, she was only getting a minimum wage check a few weeks from today.


It was only a five minute walk home from the office, and Harley’s boyfriend, Brent was not extremely reliable.


Brent Rodan, a 28 year old jockey who had short curly blonde hair and gorgeous, icy baby blue eyes. She couldn’t place it, but Harley would swear she knew someone with those same eyes. Except, Brent’s were lackluster compared to the ones she constantly dreamed of.


‘Stupid short-term memory!’ she cursed to herself. She was sure the person was important to her, but, damn herself if she could remember. She just shrugged it off.


She listened to Supersonic Speed by Die Happy on her I-Phone, keeping herself vigilant as she made her way home rather quickly, she felt uneasy walking after dark. That is when the creeps come out.


So, she had her mace at the ready as she walked home. No cars passed as she hummed along to her music, nothing happening, as usual.


She kept staring blankly, almost in a dream-like state and feeling drained from work. Both mentally and physically.


She arrived home in approximately five minutes. Harley lived in a small apartment complex. Her’s was on the top floor, she always takes the elevator to save time.


Snagging her keys out of her mid-sized Chinese-style purse she unlocked her door and stumbled sleepily through, happy to be home.


As usual, there was Brent, lounging on the couch, wearing nothing but clingy black jeans. Being somewhat of a jock, Brent had a nice build to make almost any girl blush or drool. And he was extremely handsome.


He was drinking a beer, legs up on the sofa and watching a hockey game. “Hey, babe.” He greeted, not even taking his eyes off the television and belching afterwards.


Harley smiled rather happily to see someone who would actually want to talk to her. She leapt onto the couch, wrapping her arms around her boyfriend. “Hey handsome!” she squealed, kissing his tanned and chiseled cheek.


He still didn’t really respond to her, besides his left arm draping itself over her hip. She pouted. “Work was a real hell today. Hardly had any sales…” she sighed, her eyes half-lidded in depression, gaze upon his muscled chest but not really paying attention.


“Why won’t you answer me?!” she demanded, feeling her already low patience snapping quickly.


“Look babe, the game’s on. Can’t talk.” he spat quickly, not even giving Harley the time to look at her.


Elsewhere, a man watched as he saw the brown-haired, doe-eyed girl frowned sadly. “The game is…more important then me?” he could see her full lower lip quiver, making his left eye twitch.


He noticed Harley look to where the kitchen was, he could see as well. The floor hadn’t been swept and there was a mountain of dishes in both sink tubs.


“What the Hell is this?!” she growled, glaring at the handsome man below her who still refused to look at her.


“What are you complaining about now?” the blonde man sighed, rolling his blue eyes.


The man, the one watching, could see Harley holding herself back from attacking. “I come home; after dealing with assholes, bitches and straight up obnoxious idiots for virtually countless hours…and you, no job, and absolutely NO schedule couldn’t do a few simple household chores?!” she hollered, stomping off to the dirty kitchen..


“Some friends came over and we partied babe. Its not that big’a deal.” Brent said, dismissing his upset girlfriend completely.


The man ran a white-gloved hand through his red hair, baby blue eyes closed and face contorted in disgust behind white gauze. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. He doesn’t appreciate nor care for you…not like I did.” he sighed, feeling his distaste towards the blonde-haired male grow rather swiftly towards hatred.


A doctor entered the room and headed towards the man, who had several bandages on his face. “Its time, Mr. Syndrome.” he announced.


“About time…” Syndrome said, stretching as the doctor led him to an operating table. The villain laid down, the table moving into position, allowing the doctor to remove his bandages.


“Amazing, you look no different! It’s a miracle…” the doctor was practically speechless. It was almost as if his previous encounter with his ex-childhood idol never happened.


Sliding off the table, Syndrome walked to a full-length mirror, examining his face. The doc was right, there wasn’t even the slightest appearance of scarring.

“”Now that my recovery is done, its time to get my plan on the road.” he grinned, shooing away the doctor.


Snapping his fierce gaze back to the monitor, he watched the ’happy’ couple arguing; Brent telling Harley, rather nonchalantly that she was fat and had to lose weight.


That coupled with the information one of his spies found out not too long ago, Syndrome could feel his skin burn from the blood rushing to his face. There was nothing wrong with Harley!


His upper lip and left eye twitched in rage; “He is nothing but an ungrateful bum! He doesn’t deserve you…” he growled darkly, his gaze boring holes into the male who was his current enemy.


The video paused right as Harley’s face displayed nothing but sadness and pain. Syndrome walked up to the screen slowly and placed his left hand on her right cheek. Wanting nothing but for her to be as far away from the jerk as possible. “It won’t be long, Harl…you’ll be with me soon enough…even if I have to kill him to get to you…”

Dark brown eyes opened slowly, everything they saw was fuzzy, making the poor girl feel disoriented.


Harley felt around, trying to gather herself, soon finding out she was on an unnaturally comfy bed. She sat up, still covering herself due to the fact she was only wearing a short red nightgown that didn’t really cover much.


She rose a shaky hand to her head, feeling like crap. Her vision was slowly returning. Harley began looking around.


The room was an elaborately decorated bedroom, the style was modern, a nice look. Everything being either black or white.


She also saw that she was on a mammoth-sized bed, it hugged her hourglass frame snuggly, giving the impression that one was sleeping on Cloud 9. The blanket she was using was a rather large comforter, black with one large S scrawled on its surface. And the pillows were gigantic, each one could fill in a small sleeping cot. Those too alternated between black and white.


Harley felt herself becoming nervous, on edge and most importantly, pissed beyond belief! “What the Hell happened to me?!” she thought angrily, out loud, scratching her head in confusion.


“All I really remember was going to sleep after dinner then nothing but black…hmm.” she sat Indian-style, lost in thought, trying to recall what had happened.


She so lost that she didn’t even hear a door open. “Just where am I anyway?” she growled curiously.


“Nice to see you’re finally awake!” a male voice exclaimed loudly, snapping Harley out of thought.


Her gaze shifted to the man who had just entered the room. To say he looked odd and eccentric would have been an understatement. He was dressed in a Super suit, all black with only a large S stitched across his entire torso. A black cape fluttered behind him as he moved closer to her, white boots clicking as they touched the wooden surface.


His hair was bright orange and spiked upwards, resembling flames.


The only thing covering his face was a black mask, his bright, baby blue eyes sticking out like sore thumbs. ’Why are those eyes so familiar?’ she wondered. This would be bugging her now.


“Just who the hell are you supposed to be?” she demanded, glaring at the strangely dressed man.


“You don’t remember me? I’m hurt!” he cried out, pouting playfully.


“Yeah…I’d remember a guy who walks around dressed like that.” she said flatly, a blank and bored look on her face.


“Well, its no real surprise, a good 15 years or so can change someone…especially you, Harls.” the red haired male said, a masked eyebrow raised as he looked Harley over.


“Don’t change the subject. Tell me who you are now, you pervert!” Harley growled, her patience quickly wearing thin.


“Well, for now, you can just call me Syndrome, sweetheart. And as for where you are…you’re on my private island, Nomanisan.”


“I’m on an island?! How did I get here?!” Harley shot up from the bed, showing that her nightgown didn’t even reach her knees. “Stop staring…or I’ll kick yer pasty white ass, freckles.” she threatened, glaring darkly at Syndrome.


“Hard to tell a guy that sweetie, trust me.” he chuckled, moving closer to her.


“I’ll tell you how you got here, just later. You need to chill, after all, there is no way out of here. Not without my permission that is. So, just enjoy yourself.” Syndrome said in a rather sinister tone, sneaking up and kissing Harley’s cheek.


“BACK OFF, CREEP!!!” Harley hollered, kicking her captor. Something told her, she was in for a lot of headaches in the future.