Upon waking up, the first thing I do is call for my mother. Almost instantly I hear footsteps rushing down the hallway outside my room. My bedroom door opens and light jumps into my room. A familiar silhouette follows the path of night to my side. Warm arms embrace me and a familiar voice tells me it will be okay. I look up to the doorway to see my father silhouetted in the light, reinforcing the words of my mother. Everything is okay. It's just a dream. It's just a dream.

	Death in a Child's Toy ...
Tangent: Plastic Man #1	by James Hickson

Captain Bolt took off from his secret sanctuary on the less famous side of Mount Rushmore, flying under his own power towards his next adventure. The phone call from the president had said that Dr. Evilon was holding Martha Mayday hostage atop Chicago's Sears Tower, threatening to drop her if Captain Bolt didn't arrive within five minutes. Captain Bolt smiled as the tower came into sight, he was never one to disappoint.

Upon Captain Bolt's arrival, Dr. Evilon launches into the standard rant about how much he hates the Captain and how his new master plan is sure to defeat him. I skip a few panels to the fight scene. Dr. Evilon's new master plan turns about to be a machine that is supposed to steal Captain Bolt's powers and use them to power a giant death ray which the villain planned on turning on the Captain himself. The only way to turn off the machine is to fight through Dr. Evilon's legion of deadly robots, which the captain must do even with his powers being drained by the dreadful machine. But the Captain doesn't hesitate, he knows he has to save Martha Mayday and stop Dr. Evilon's evil plan. He rushes at the robot minions, fists thundering.

Then just as it is getting good, my mother pulls back my covers. I look up at her, flashlight and comic book in hand.

"I thought I told you to go to bed half an hour ago," she says

"I was just…" I protest.

"I know what you were doing," my mother says as she takes the comic book and flashlight and put them on my dresser. "But you need to go to sleep, even Captain Bolt needs sleep you know."

"Yes, ma'am," I resign, allowing her to tuck me in.

"Here you go," she says as she hands me my Captain Bolt action figure. I clasp the tiny plastic man in my hands tightly. "Goodnight, I love you."

"I love you, too," I yawn, realizing that I am indeed tired and in need of sleep. My mother closes the door, leaving the room in darkness save the little bit of light leaking through the window. My eyes drop, and I squeeze the Captain Bolt figure in my hand. The figure pulses. I ignore the sensation, thinking it an illusion of my tired mind. But the figure pulses again. And suddenly there is a sharp pain in my hand like someone had just stabbed a blade into my palm. I try to scream but nothing will come out. I feel something start to crawl up my arm, engulfing it. It's warm like sticking your arm into a hot bath. The sensation flows over my entire body and my muscles tense painfully. I feel my body expanding, bulging muscles building beneath my skin. My eyes shoot open with pain, and I look down to see my muscles rippling under my skin like a wave in the ocean.

A street lamp flickers outside and a massive burning force enters me. Tiny streaks of lightning leap from point to point on my body. Finally a red and blue ooze starts to flow up from body, fusing itself to my skin. When it finally engulfs me there is a glows from my chest. My new skin is the uniform of Captain Bolt.

The bedroom isn't any Mount Rushmore, but the second floor window works well enough for take off. Mysterious electrical currents carry my form into the air and carry me upon my predetermined flight path. After a few minutes of traveling over land I reach the ocean, and after some more time I watch the sun rise in front of me. Not because I have been traveling for so long, but because I am approaching a part of the world where it is shining.

When I approach my destination, it is mid-day with a hot sun in the sky. But I am not worried about the heat or being seen. I am Captain Bolt. Upon landing in the palace courtyard, I am rushed by men in uniforms with guns, shouting in a language I don't understand. When I don't heed their warning, they let loose with a torrent of bullets in my direction. But the bullets never meet me; they are melted midcourse by arcs of lightning from my fingers. I make a joke at the guards' expense, but they don't laugh. They probably don't even understand. I could care less. The same arcs of lighting that destroyed the bullets now go to work on the guards. Screams of pain, finally we have understanding.

As I make my way into the palace's innersanctum I encounter more guards, but they prove to be no more trouble than the ones in the courtyard. Then again, it's not like they're robot minions. When two of them try to use a shoulder mounted missile launcher against me I know I am very close to my objective. Unfortunately for the two guards, a lightning streak insures the missile never leaves the launcher, instead exploding while still on the guard's shoulder. Fortunately for me, however, the explosion provides for a good entrance to the next room, blowing a large hole in the wall. I step over debris and a few charred bodies, and enter what until a minute ago must have been a very plush office. But now it was filled with dust, smoke, debris, and of course human remains. For a minute I think that my target was killed in the explosion, or had somehow escaped to safety. Then I notice a huddled figure under the desk on the far side of the room. I walk behind the desk and peek underneath. I can't help myself.

"Boo," I say. The quivering figure under the desk jumps, banging his head on the top of the desk. I laugh. I grab the target by the back of the collar and pull him out from under the desk, until I am holding him above the floor. I do a quick inspection, making sure that this is indeed the target. I laugh when I notice the dark spot in the front of his pants. He's crying, jerking around, trying desperately to escape from my grasp. Finally I throw him against a wall hard enough that I hear something crack. The whimpering figure slumps to the floor. I then go to work on him with my fists. Lighting bolts are all well and good for underlings, but there is something special about demolishing a once powerful man with bare knuckles. Then there is the blood. My bolts usually vaporize that with everything else. This way I get to watch it pool on the floor, collect on my fist, splash in my face. I love it.

I continue to beat the target even after I know he's dead. Finally, after the bone where his face used to be is essentially powder, I relent. I wipe the blood out of my eyes and take a good look at my work. Tomorrow morning, the news will be full of stories of underground resistance groups and democratic revolutions. I sigh; it's a shame not to get credit for such good work. But there is no time for regrets; there are still secondary targets after all.

Upon waking up the first thing I do is call for my mother. Almost instantly I hear footsteps rushing down the hallway outside my room. My bedroom door opens and light jumps into my room. A familiar silhouette follows the path of night to my side. Warm arms embrace me and a familiar voice tells me it will be okay. I look up to the doorway to see my father silhouetted in the light, reinforcing the words of my mother.

Then my mother's words slur and a moment her, my father and the darkened room flicker to reveal a larger white room. Standing in this large white room is a man in a white lab coat, watching cross-armed. I can't help but notice a striking resemblance to Dr. Evilon. I shut my eyes tight and squeeze at the small plastic man in my hand. When I open my eyes again my mother, my father, and my room have all returned just like before.

"Everything is okay," my mother says, "It's just a dream. It's just a dream."