Silver Moon Stories

Chapter 4 Trivia

 Sylvia looked around the bar to see if she could find a familiar face. She really hoped not.  She had done her best to disguise herself but, at six foot three inches tall, she was already a bit out of the ordinary. First question out of anyone’s mouth was, “You must play basketball!” Must I, she thought. She had never once been interested in sports despite the fact that she was tall and built a bit on the bigger side. She was in shape, she rode a bicycle everywhere because she couldn’t afford a car, but no matter what she was never going to have rock hard abs. Again, not that Sylvia cared, but for some reason the world had an idea of what the perfect woman was, and Sylvia didn’t check a single category. Okay maybe one or two if she was feeling generous but most guys didn’t like a woman that towered over them. She didn’t even wear heels for that very reason.

 Frankly, Sylvia didn’t care much about what other people thought about her. She wasn’t even the right ethnicity for the traditional ideal of beauty. Not that she actually knew the full scope of her background. She was Sylvia Forester, daughter of Jose and Judy Forester, and that was all she needed to know. The adopted daughter of parents who they themselves had been adopted, knew what love was and love was colorblind. Her father was the whitest Cuban you’d ever meet, with a loud laugh, a child-like sense of wonder about the world. The only thing bigger than his laugh was his appetite. Her mother was one of the most beautiful Japanese women she’d ever seen. She was one of the top English Literature professors in the country. She was actually five years older than her Dad, but she looked half his age. Some of her students starting calling her Professor F or PILF. The F wasn’t for Forester or fail. She was generally a good sport about it, but someone convinced a freshman every year to say that to her face. She would smile and laugh and then find out who it was that convinced the freshman to say that and that  Professor F could actually also stand for fail. However, they both had big hearts and had passed their warm and welcoming nature on to her. Sylvia never cared who her birth parents were. The Foresters were the only parents she’d ever wanted to know.

 Armida’s Bar was one of Sylvia favorite places in all of Denver. Her family knew the owner which was part of the reason for the disguise. If she was going to enter the bar trivia tournament tonight, she’d have to be extra careful. This was one of the last bars that she hadn’t been banned from, and she would like to keep it that way or her parents might find out what she’d been doing to make her rent. It was a bit like cheating. Okay it was a lot like cheating, but it wasn’t her fault that rent in the Denver had skyrocketed in the last few years.

 Even people twice her age were having to find side hustles or even second and third jobs. It had gotten out of hand really quickly. Her rent had already been high. She’d barely been able to keep paying for it with her job voice commercials, cartoons, and a few audiobooks here and there. She’d learned her chameleon vocal talents from her father.  She considered herself competent at voice work, her father was a master. It was one of the only reasons they hadn’t had to move to Los Angeles or New York, he no longer needed to audition for jobs. The jobs came to find him. He’d never wanted to be famous or rich. They had a nice house in an old neighborhood of Denver. Sylvia had never asked her parents for money, and she wasn’t about to start now.

 All she had to do was make a little bit of money to float herself for a couple of months until she could get a few more gigs. If she won tonight, she’d be able to cover rent and maybe eat something other than packaged ramen noodles. Winning was a forgone conclusion, selling it to everyone else was going to be the trick. Tonight was a one-time winner take all insanely difficult trivia night. The prize was a round of beers and half of the ticket entry sales from the night. The other half would go to Humane Colorado, one of Sylvia favorite charities. They called it Beers and Bunk for Beagles and Bengals. Sylvia hated intentional alliteration. Especially when it was that bad. Entry price was twenty dollars at minimum and anything else donated went straight to the shelter. There were no teams allowed tonight. Single entries only, probably with the hope of more entry dollars, and when Sylvia had walked in there were nearly one hundred entries. So basically, everyone in the bar was going to play.

 Sylvia paid her entry fee and grabbed a scorecard and stylus and took a look at what was there. The scorecard what one of the new electronic ones designed to be split resistant but it also transmitted the answer to the host who was able to electronically have the answers come up on a screen on the stage of the bar. Sylvia likes the idea of these. It was supposed to prevent cheating. The trivia system also had a mobile dampener that prevented people from using their phones to look up the answers or keeping someone else on the phone to look things up for you. Technology had made it easy to cheat and even easier to shut cheating down.

 Most cheating, Sylvia thought to herself. Depending on how you looked at it, it wasn’t cheating. It wasn’t her fault that she could recall any piece of trivia at any time. She didn’t even have to think about it, they just popped in whenever someone asked a question regarding, obscure, silly, or just plain useless trivia. If she could recall useful things, like how to repair a flat tire, or stitch a garment, maybe even understand and explain how the theory of relativity works it might have been a very useful power for a Super to have. Nope, instead she could tell the average number of flat tires in the United States per year, two hundred and twenty million, or how many garments are produced worldwide every year, 100 to 150 billion, or who proved the theory of relativity was valid, Sir Arthur Eddington or Artie to his friends.

 As a power it was worse than useless, which is why she had been denied entry into the Superhero Studies program at every college in Colorado and several in other states. Well, if they didn’t deem her worthy of a Super rating, then why should anyone complain when she used her power for her own monetary gain? Sylvia knew would complain, she herself would be the first in line. Powers should be things that help people and not give you an unfair advantage in winning at bar trivia nights. But right now, she had to swallow her pride and use it to win. It was either that or proving to her parents that she couldn’t hack it in the real world.

***

 Sylvia moved from the entrance into the main room of the bar. The warm wood walls and floor always relaxed her. Tonight, she needed relaxing. The sound of music being sung assaulted her ears and shivers rode up and down her spine. Damn it, she’d hoped to avoid the karaoke portion of the night. People getting up in front of friends and stranger with bellies full of liquid courage, belting out their favorite tune. Or one of three that you heard every night, Piano Man by Billy Joel, Summer Lovin’ from Grease, and her absolute least favorite, American Pie by Don McLean.

 All of these songs were fine on their own in their original forms. Alcohol tended to do two things. Make people believe that they could sing and encourage friends to go up and sing one of those karaoke standards. How it didn’t make some of the regular karaoke DJ’s ears bleed, she’d never know. She was good friends with several of them, so she had to be careful if one of them was the DJ tonight. She thought this was one of those nights that karaoke didn’t happen, but she should have known better. Karaoke and trivia were always big draws.

She found a small table at the back of the room with just two stools next to it. Normally, they would have at least four, but it appeared that some shuffling had happened. She was lucky to find an empty table but that is part of the reason that she had risked coming early. The tables were a premium and got snapped up fast. Even the crappy high top tables. As she sat down, one of the waitresses, one she didn’t recognize, headed towards her table.

 “Hi there! I’m Angela. Can I get you something to get started?” Angela said in a bubbly slightly sing-song voice.

  Looking at her, Sylvia realized that Angela was almost everything that she wasn’t. She was petite and skinny, she had a lovely figure and complexion that spoke of Hispanic roots. Angela noticed the stare and her smile tarnished a little bit but was still friendly.

“Umm, sorry if you’re looking for a date, hon. I’m straight and spoken for. No offense.” The smile started to turn into a flat lipped, thin smile.

 Sylvia realized she had been staring with a start. “Oh my, what must you think of me!” She was working her best Scarlet O’hara voice, “I was just thinkin’ that you were such a lovely thing that my brother would just die to meet you. Forgive my staring, bless your beautiful heart. If y’all don’t mind, I just have a Coke, Sugar!” She hoped the syrupy sweetness of the voice would turn the encounter back to friendly.

Sure enough, that had done the trick, “That’s very sweet of you. You’re quite lovely yourself. It’s a two drink minimum. Should I start a tab or just drink you two now?” The waitress offered the compliment in a way the indicated that she didn’t really agree with what she was saying. But only someone as talented at observing the human as Sylvia would have noticed. She let it go/

“Just start a tab, Angela.” Switching back to her normal voice and handing the girl a credit card that was nearly maxed out. “I’ll settle up later. Will you be here all night?”

“Yes ma’am. You gonna sing a song tonight?” Angela asked as she placed the credit card into a check holder and putting that into an apron pocket. If she was shocked at the change in accent, she gave no indication on her face.

Dear god, no. Sylvia thought. That is the very last thing on my mind. “Nope. Just here for the trivia.”

“Good luck, hon.” With a last smile, Angela walked towards the bartender and started a conversation with him. Probably telling him about the weirdo lesbian she just had to rebuff. She probably wouldn’t even know what rebuff meant. She turned back towards the stage and then towards the DJ booth to see who was running the show tonight.

Oh no. She thought. Of all of the DJs, why was A.C. here tonight? Damn it, almost anyone else wouldn’t recognize her but, Abelardo Cisneros would definitely recognize her. It was hard to avoid an ex-boyfriend, especially one that was now one of her closest friends. That was just her luck. A big ball of golden opportunity chocolate with a sugared ginger center of one of the few men who’d seen her naked. She hated ginger in sweets it just didn’t belong.

As she thought that their eyes locked. No getting away from it now, she thought sulkily. She just had to bring him into her confidence and hope that he wouldn’t call her out for cheating. Fortunately, she knew him well enough to know that wasn’t likely.

***

“Hello, Nurse! What’s cooking?” said A.C. in a very cartoony voice. That was one of the things they had bonded over when they first met in High School. They both had a deep love of all types of cartoons.

“Oh hi, A.C.! Whatcha doing here tonight? I thought it was your night off.” She responded in a different cartoon voice, this time high and cute like a young girl.

“It was, but Gary had a thing to do that came up at the last moment, so he asked me to fill in and as you know money is tight so, here I am!” A.C. then added in a much quieter voice barely above a whisper, “You’re not supposed to Trivia night, V. If they catch you will probably get arrested. I really don’t want that to happen.”

He was the only person in the world that called her V. Most people called her Sylvia or Sylvi, but A.C. had decided to shorten her name even more and just called her V. Of course , she had a nickname for him too.

“Listen, Grape Abe” she said just as quietly, “I appreciate the concern, but I need the dough and the only other things I’ve come up with I will not do. Please just don’t say anything and I’ll give you a part of the pot.”

There it was, Grape Abe.  So, nicknamed by her after one time when he had tried to die his hair to play a Super for Halloween and ended up having to go as Grape Ape instead. She had never let him live it down and now only called him that as a reminder of how much history was between them. Beside he had looked hilarious. He was about the same size then, as now, just about six feet tall, with a full shaggy beard. He was also not a small human in girth either. He weighed nearly two hundred and fifty pounds and was built like a linebacker. The fact that he had never played sports and knew the words to every cartoon theme meant that he really just a big teddy bear, who happened to look a lot like a bouncer at a biker bar. If it wasn’t for the perpetual smile on his face and the way that he moved like a dancer at all times, he would have been very imposing. He still was very imposing and more than a bit confusing to the uninitiated.

“ I’m hurt that you think I need to be bought. I tell you what as long as don’t mind some company, I would say a word. Deal?” He smiled brightly.

“ You think you can turn it down enough to not get me spotted?’ Sylvia was beginning to think that she was stuck with company tonight. At least it was good company.

“Thou dost wound me again, milady.” A.C. said stabbing his heart with an imaginary knife. “You know that I can almost blend into the background when I want to. What do you say?”

He was right. If they hadn’t already tested him for powers, she would have thought of him as an undiscovered  Super. It was amazing the big bodied, big personality person could just vanish into a crowd when he wanted to. Again, at least A.C. was good company and had known about her power for years, sometimes with humorous results. Did you ever want to know which species of mammal had the largest penis, she hadn’t but now she did and will for all time. Sylvia slowly cupped her face with her right hand.

“Okie Dokie, then!” A.C. said and Sylvia just knew that he had his most charming smile on his face.

*** 

“Try not to get everyone right, V. You’ll be in deep monkey poop if they find out you’ve been playing.” A.C. said quietly after his first sip on his own soda.

 “I don’t have a choice A.C. I really need the money. If I don’t come up with some cash soon, I’ll have to ask my parents for money or be late on the rent. Neither of those is how I roll.” Sylvia tried not to let the anxiety she felt enter into her voice, but she knew that A.C. had caught the tightness of how she had said that.

“How you roll? Since when do you said that?” A.C. chuckled lightly, “Are you trying to go Gangsta on me now?”

 Sylvia had no idea why she’d phrased it that way. It was very unlike herself. Her Dad had said that is was good to know slang in case you needed it in specific situations but her Mom had insisted that she take elocution lessons and her diction was usually crisp and precise, unless she was intentionally using a different accent or voice, like she had earlier with the waitress. She guessed the anxiety was just getting to her. 

“Absolutely not, my fine fellow. I speak the King’s English and none other.” Sylvia put on her best Shakespearean persona. Then she shifted back to normal “Honestly Grape Abe, I think I’m just nervous.”

“No? Really? You using your power for profit and gain, you’d never be nervous.” The sarcasm dripped from the response and then he laughed out loud. “You do realize that most people would have no problem using a power like yours for money, me included. Sometimes I think your morality is skewed too high. I don’t have any problem with you using your power to keep you house, just don’t get caught.”

Sylvia knew he was right, but it just felt wrong. It was like an itch she couldn’t scratch, and she was worried about how her parents would react if they found out. Still, she was in a bind, and this would help at least in the meantime. That still didn’t help her feel one bit less guilty.  She was just about to speak again when a young man stepped onto the stage and the crowd began to quiet down.

“Oh man,” Said A.C. quietly, “They should’ve ask me to do trivia instead of Roger. This is going to be way, way too easy for you V. You might not even end up using your power. Worst. Trivia. Host. Ever.”

Sylvia had never met Roger, but it was very apparent that A.C. and that he was pretty awful at hosting trivia. A.C. did occasionally mock people, usually those that knew it was in fun and could take a ribbing. But she rarely heard him bust out Comic Book Guy from the Simpsons. He didn’t like using it because, as he was a large guy and so was the Comic Book Guy, it seemed less like ribbing and more like being really mean. That wasn’t his usual style.

“I’m guessing that you’ve watched this, Roger, host trivia?”

“Watch him host? Hell, I’ve played while he hosted and won every time. V, I mean every time and you know that even those my trivia knowledge is admittedly, biblical in size and nature, I can’t hold a candle to you even when you aren’t using your ability.”

A.C. wasn’t given to boasting or bragging unless he had a good reason to. He was one of the few people that could hold their own against her in trivia and that was saying something power or no.

“Well, if it comes down to a tie breaker, let’s hope he’s at least got something up his sleeve.” Sylvia sighed.

 “You mean other than his arm? I highly doubt it, V.”

 “Ladies and gentlemen, who’s ready for the trivia competition?” said Roger with a voice similar to a frog stuffed into a hollow log, deep and croaking, but it got the job done without much style. There was a smattering of applause and a few whistles. Not really what you’d expect from a crowd that all had a chance a couple thousand dollars. For the second time that night, Sylvia palmed her face with her hand.

***

 Frankly, the game had been boring and disappointing. Sylvia had hoped that there would be a bit of a challenge, but she should had known that it wouldn’t be up to her definition of that. The first question had been so easy it was almost embarrassing. It had been,

 “Where is the only place in the united stated where you can be in four states at the same time?”

 Really, Sylvia had thought. This was really what people thought of competitive bar trivia? At least it wasn’t multiple choice, and you gained extra points for how fast you answered but, seriously? The Four Corners Monument?  Hadn’t most people raised in Colorado been to the monument? Maybe but, there had been a lot of people who had moved from other states in the last few decades which was part of the reason for the skyrocketing rents and prices.

 Sylvia could understand, Colorado was beautiful. Denver was a biggish city with all of the amenities that you could find in other big cities. But Colorado was her home, her favorite place in the world. No matter where she traveled, she was always happy to be back in her home state. She was happy others shared her opinion, she just wished it wasn’t so many.

 The questions didn’t get much hard until the last ten. The one thing that had been unusual was the size of the amount of trivia questions, fifty questions. There was a digital list on the stage that had all of the players pseudonyms and their scores and rankings. Sylvia had chosen E. Nigma after one of her favorite Batman villains. She was neck and neck with someone who had chosen Butch Cassidy. Well, Butch Cassidy, Sylvia thought as the last ten questions started rolling, I hope you’ve found the Sundance Kid because you’re going down now.

 One by one the questions went up and she knocked them down. She hadn’t had to reach for her power once. Many on the competitors had already left or had moved on to more drinks and food knowing that they wouldn’t get passed Butch Cassidy or E. Nigma. Butch had a slight lead on Sylvia but that was going to change, she could feel it.

 “Okay trivia fans! Here comes the very last question!” Roger sounded excited and tired at the same time. He had been on the stage under the lights for nearly two hours. “Ready? This is a multi-part question. Who through the fastest baseball ever recorded in the MLB. How fast was it and what was the date?

 Sylvia blinked. She knew this. Her Dad and Brother were baseball nuts, and this guy had been one their favorite team, the Chicago Cubs. He had broken a lot of records for his pitching. Gleeful that she’d never once resorted to her power, she quickly typed in her answer.

 “And that’s it ladies and gentlemen! We have our winner, E. Nigma! Come on up and get your prize. The answer was Aroldis Chapman, one hundred and five point eight miles an hour on September Twenty-Fourth Two Thousand and Ten!” Roger sounded overjoyed as he ribbited his way through his last big reveal of the night. He sounded like he was on the edge of losing his voice.

 “That’s bullshit!” came from a table close to the stage as a very large man was standing up. He even towered over Sylvia and that was saying something. “It was Ben Joyce on September Twenty-Fourth Twenty Twenty Four! Your wrong! This game was rigged! I earned that fair and square!”

 It was easy to tell that he’d had a few too many drinks. He wobbled a bit as he stood but he was still an imposing figure. Sylvia knew that this was going to be trouble, but she thought she’d resolve trivia with trivia.

 “Ben Joyce only through one oh five point five. He was a full three tenths mph slower than Chapman. Come on man be a go sport and I’ll buy you a pitcher. Hell, I’ll even throw in a cab home for you.” Sylvia was trying to be diplomatic, but Butch was having none of it.

 “Sit down you stupid, cheating, bitch!” Spittle flew from his mouth as he turned on Sylvia. “You’re wrong! Ben Joyce through faster. He beat that commie’s throw. I know he was faster. It was over one oh six something  .” He wobbled again and started to lurch towards Sylvia.

 Sylvia started to back up. “Easy, Butch. No one’s ever broken one oh six. Chapman was close, real close but no one has managed yet.” She was really hoping this would come down to a fight. She really didn’t want to deal with this drunk moron, but you don’t always get to pick your fights.

 “My name’s not Butch!” The not Butch slurred. Still headed towards Sylvia, albeit slowly and unsteadily. Maybe she’d get lucky and he’d fall over.

 Roger croaked from the stage, “She’s right you know. It was Aroldis Chapman. I just looked it up and he holds both the number one and number two posts.” The was a panicked look on his face.

 “Shut up you, you damn Frenchie frog.” He stopped and laughed at his own nonsensical joke, “ I’ll deal with you in a minute.”

I t was just then that a gentle but firm hand grabbed Sylvia’s arm. It was A.C. She’d forgotten that he was there standing right next to her. Calmly he said, “Let’s go, V. It’s not worth it.”

 The hell it isn’t she thought. This jerk stood in her way of losing her home or having to crawl back to her parents and ask for money. There was no way she was going to do either of those things. She searched her mind quickly to find a way to diffuse the situation but, her mind was blanking on ideas. She was going to run out of time. Sylvia felt a second tug on her arm.

 “V! Let it go. I’ll loan you the money. This guy is too drunk for everyone’s good.” A.C. said with a third light pull of her arm. Sylvia turned and A.C. saw the dark on Sylvia’s face. As she turned back to face the drunk man, A.C. let go of her arm. “ Oh man. You can’t can you?” Sylvia shook her head lightly, “Okay, then. I’m gonna go and get another soda. Just be careful, okay V?”

 Sylvia’s nod was barely noticeable as A.C. turned to walk towards the bar. The drunk, the not Butch, stopped swayed from side to side. He looked confused, unsure of what had just changed. “Where’d the fat guy go? I was going to kick his ass too. Was he scared? Did he piss his pants with fear?” He laughed then at his own stupid words and suddenly stopped when he belched loudly, and his face started to turn green. This guy was going to be sick, sooner than later. Maybe if Sylvia just talked to him long enough and kept his mind away from violence that the urge to vomit over take him and this would all come to a screeching halt. She thought she might have a way, he was a trivia guy trivia guys loved getting more trivia, even about things they thought they knew but were wrong about. For the very first time that night, Sylvia reached for her power.

 “Do you realize how hard it is to throw a fast ball more than one hundred miles per hour? How hard you have to train? How many variables go into a fast ball?” Sylvia said calmly.

 Not Butch slowed down a bit. His confusion had deepened. “How’d a girl know anything about baseball? Baseball’s a man’s sport.”

 “Wow. Okay, even drunk you should know how f’d that is. First, Baseball is called the national pass time and not the man’s pass time. Plenty of women follow baseball, some even play baseball even though the powers that be deem that it should only be men in the sport. I mean has anyone actually watch ‘A League of Their Own’? Secondly, I’ve been a pitcher ever since I was a little girl. I’ve manage to throw fastballs in the low seventies and that was without trying. Some college level female pitchers have been clocked at over eighty five miles per hour and they don’t get the time and resources the buys in the majors do. Do you even know you start a wind-up? When to release the ball for maximum speed or how to put enough spin on a ball to create an effective curve ball?”

 Not Butch stared at Sylvia blankly for a minute. Then his face began to flush with anger, and he started lumbering towards her again. The fires of violence flashing in his even. A low growl began to pierce the quiet of the bar. Normally, there would be so much noise that you’d hardly be able to think, let alone actually have a real conversation. Sylvia felt dozens of eyes staring at her and the hippopotamic land mass that was growling and rushing at her at fast as his stumbling shuffle would allow. The only noise was the sound of the rock music on the speakers overhead. Even that seemed quieter than usual.

 Sylvia found herself in a frantic moment not knowing what to do. At that moment she realized that she was already halfway through her windup for her fastball. She had no idea when she’d moved into that position, it was as if her body had done so with her mind’s awareness of it. For some reason, it felt right in the moment, and something clicked into place like a key turning a door. Oh, well Sylvia thought/ At least I can go down showing that I know what I’m talking about. She imagined the feel of the leather ball in her hand. She moved her fingers into the position for a four seem fastball. She had only managed to complete that throw a few times, but she felt right. She continued with her imagined pitched and said as she reached the apex just before she would normally realize the ball, “Aroldis Chapman threw a four seem fastball one hundred and five point eight miles an hour on September Twenty-Fourth Two Thousand and Ten and that record has yet to be broken!”

 As she released the imaginary projectile a few things happened at almost the same time. The ball was no longer imagined. Her hand had been holding a real baseball. Where had that come from? It rocketed towards not Butch and struck him in the right side of his chest with a resounding crack. There was an audible gasp and sound of sympathy pain from the patrons. Sylvia had felt the same pang of pain, guilt, and remorse staring at the large man gripping his chest in pain. She distant heard someone say, “Call 9-1-1!” and realized that it was her own voice that said it.

 A.C. rushed over to her and tried to usher her out of the building, “V, you’ve got to get out of here! Where did you get that baseball from? Go out the back and I make sure this is handled.” Worried and concern in his voice.

 “No, A.C.! I’ve got to stay and make sure he’s alright. I don’t care what happens now, I can’t leave a man I’ve injured!  Even if it was accidental. I have no idea where that baseball came from. I had tried to use my power to give him facts and figures to show I knew what I was talking about. It is almost as if I did that unconsciously. My power hurt someone , A.C., and I don’t even know how!” She responded to her friend. Her voice was a mixture of panic and fear. This had never happened before. What the hell was that? For the last ten years of her life, her power had been a parlor trick. Something she could you to fascinate and win the occasional bit of trivia, at least until found out she had powers.

 One of the guys from the bar crowd was walking towards her with something shiny in his hand. It took Sylvia nearly thirty seconds to realize it was a Denver PD detective badge. Well, there was no avoiding it now. She was going to jail for assault and to top that off, using a superpower. Goodbye world. See you in about a decade or more.

 “Sylvia Forester? My name’s Colin Murphy. I’m a detective with the DPD.” Colin said with a calm, even demeanor.

 “Let me guess, I’m under arrest for assault> Don’t worry, Detective Murphy, I won’t resist.” Sylvia returned his calm, but her fear tinged her response. She just hoped this guy was an honest cop and not one of those that she’d heard about so many times from friends and family.

 The detective has a puzzled look come over his face. Then realization dawned, “Oh no, Miss Forester. I could see why you’ve think that. Actually, I’m here to ask you a few questions and possibly offer you something.”

 This conversation was turning in a direction she hadn’t expected. “What? You don’t want to arrest me? I probably broke several of that guy’s ribs with that pitch. It was an accident though. I’ve no idea how that happened.”

 “You broke seven of his ribs and nearly punctured one of his lungs. But he’ll recover and once he is healed, it will be off to jail. What you just did by accident, Miss Forester, was bring down man that I’ve been hunting for weeks. His name is John Cassidy, and he is wanted for robbery and several savage assaults on women. While I can’t let you leave, you are not under arrest.” The detective clipped the badge back to his belt and as he did so, Sylvia caught a flash of a dark metal object at his side under a dark blue jacket.

 “How do you know exactly how much damage he received from that pitch?” Sylvia wasn’t normally slow on the uptake but the last several minutes left her left stunned and unsteady. “You’re a Super? I didn’t think Supers were allowed on the police force.”

 “We’ll, I’m not really a Super. Just you really aren’t we both have powers that were deemed too weak or useless to train into a full Superhero. But my special sight does help in my line of work and exceptions can be made on a case by case basis. Which is what I wanted to discuss with you.” Murphy grinned and the panic eased from Sylvia a bit more.

 “While I appreciate the thought, why? I’ve already been evaluated and they decided that my power lacks any useful applications. All I can do it answer any trivia question.” As she said it, Sylvia realized maybe that wasn’t true anymore. Hadn’t she always been able to manifest things? If so, why did it only so up now? Could she do it again or was it just a fluke? Sylvia really did want the answers to all of this.

 “Yes, but as you can clearly see, and I know that you do, that’s no longer the case. Miss Forester, I believe that you deserve to be reevaluated. More than that, I think you need to be reevaluated. Not only for your own good but maybe for the good of society and if I can frankly, I’m not asking. You need to be reassessed by the committee of Supers. Your friend can leave once he’s given his statement, but you will be coming with me, Miss Forester. The detective’s tone turned flat and business like at the end.

Sylvia realized that she no longer had a choice. Her actions, her power had landed her in the worst case scenario. She was going to have to go before the committee of Supers. Sylvia like she had just swallowed a lead weight. “Well, detective Murphy,” Sylvia said the anxiety right back where it was before, “We might as well be a bit more congenial. Please call me Sylvia or if you must you can always call by the Super name I would have used, Trivia.”