The Final Five Hundred and the End of the World

[In honor of 500 fans, I've agreed to write a story that must incorporate prompts decided upon by my fans. These include: Cyden, Trump, the end of the world, Movellians as superheroes, a talking cat named Diego, headphones used as a weapon, Oscar Wilde, and the words, "I love Donald Trump." Brace yourself.]


5. Five




    It was the end of days. The end of Donald “Be so big, so strong, so powerful that nobody is going to mess with us” Trump’s days, anyway. Prodigy smiled with cold delight as the pieces of the plan all fell into place. She tugged at her pantsuit, adjusted her grip on the clipboard and joined the line. Myrah turned and gave Prodigy a small smile - she knew the plan was good. Trump’s security detail searched them all one by one, but their scanners couldn’t pick up weapons when they were the weapons. (They also couldn’t pick up the fire in their hearts or the twisting daggers of hatred in their eyes, but, well, technology has only advanced so far.) 

    “What’s this?” one of the security guards barked, holding up some wires. 

    Music blinked. “Headphones. Have you never seen headphones before?” Danielle’s magic glamor made Music look older, professional, and genuine.

    The guard huffed, handing them back to her. She shoved them in her pocket and moved forward. 

    Myrah passed without incident, and then it was Prodigy’s turn. She took a breath. The guard’s eyes were sharp on her face, looking her up and down, then running a wand over her body. There were no beeps. “What are your views on Donald Trump?” he asked. 

    Prodigy knew this was coming. She had heard him ask every other Movellian to go through. She knew, she had practiced a response, and yet the words felt like lead as she tried to spit them out. “I love Donald Trump.”

    Prodigy felt the distinct urge to throw up. 

    The guard nodded, waved her through. She let out a shaky breath. That was the hardest thing she had ever had to do. The rest would be smooth sailing. 

    Movellians roamed around the field in which they’d chosen to have this press conference at Mari’s insistence. She had, using Diego’s golden words, convinced Trump and his advisors that this sort of conference was one best had well away from the public and that it presented a safety hazard to have anyone but reporters there. After all, Trump was a prime target for assassination at the moment, and they couldn’t have that. 

    No, they just couldn’t. 

    All of the Movelllians looked so professional. Journalists, reporters, and television crew seemed to make up the crowd in front of the little stage and podium, but Prodigy knew the truth. Soon Trump would too. 

    Lia had a direct telepathic feed set up with Prodigy, ready to broadcast to the rest of the Movellians at a moment’s notice. Is everyone in place? Prodigy thought. 

    Yes. Skie and Lightning are stationed as stage crew, ready to take out the guards out back. Fever, Snow, Myrah, Raven, Music, Larry - and May, of course - and Mystique are all in the reporter crowd, as you can probably see. Oh, and so am I. Invisible is probably around here somewhere… but you know she’s hard to find. Danielle is manning the van, focusing all her powers on these glamors. And lastly, Cyrus, Hayden, and Oscar are coming with Jess, but they’re keeping her occupied until you give the signal. Is that all? 

    As far as I know, Prodigy replied. So now we just wait for Trump.

    Lia’s answer was short. Yep.

It was all Prodigy needed to hear. She found Raven in the crowd and headed over. Raven was taking systematic deep breaths and muttering something to herself. “You sure you’re ready for this? I could have someone else-“

    “No. I got this,” Raven replied, turning to look at Prodigy. “This is my power. I’m going to use it.”

    Prodigy gave only a slight frown. “Okay.”

    Raven shook out her hands and went back to muttering. 

    The sun was high in the sky as a fleet of black cars pulled up to the stage stopping behind the giant American flag backdrop. Prodigy craned to see the Dictator. Sparrow turned into a crane to see the dictator. Then she turned back.

    Myrah drew in a steadying breath and headed over to meet them. Posing as the MC for the press conference, she was the only person who could get a word in edgewise when speaking to Trump.

    “President Trump,” Myrah greeted with a compulsory little bow. Mari and the eight security guards around him stood at attention while another sixteen piled out of their cars. “I’m Myrah Mirlotta, your host for this conference.” Prodigy could hear the veiled distaste in her voice as she continued, “Is there anything we can get you, or would you like to begin immediately?”

    “Immediately,” Trump barked. 

    Myrah gave a nod and led the way to the stage. Prodigy wasn’t sure if it was her own heart pounding that she could hear or the collective hearts of all the Movellians. Larry the beast, disguised as a seeing eye dog for Music, let out a little anxious whine. Or maybe that was May. It was hard to tell. Myrah’s steps on the hollow stage echoed across the field. She took her place behind the podium, and she didn’t even need her powers to capture everyone’s attention. She had it. 

    “Ladies and Gentlemen, Americans and otherwise, it is my pleasure,” she gritted out, “to present to you the one and only President Trump to address concerns about the recent Global Peace Convention. President Trump,” she deferred.

    Myrah joined the audience as Donald Trump strode over to the podium. The security guards flanked him four on each side, eyeing the Movellians with suspicion. 

    “Good evening, America. It’s come to my attention that some of you are alarmed by the recent events,” Trump said with a scowl, “but I assure you-“

    Prodigy tuned out his assurances. Her mind was on other things, like which one of the guards looked the weakest.  Fever shifted, and Prodigy could feel the heat radiating from her. She was tense. They all were. 

    It wasn’t until almost twenty minutes into the speech that Prodigy gave the signal. The security guards had lapsed into slightly more relaxed attention, and Prodigy was afraid to wait too long without knowing the length of Trump’s speech. She thought, Lia?

    Ready, Prodigy. Is it time?

    It is, Prodigy replied. Give the signal

    There was a moment of silence, and then another thought came through in Lia’s voice. This one was echoey, and Prodigy knew it was being broadcast to the whole army. 

    Operation: Haddock is a go. I repeat, activate attack plan Operation: Haddock. Cyrus, Hayden, Oscar, release Jess. Skie, Lightning, this is your cue. Go get him, guys. 

    There was a flurry of movement in the crowd before a crack of lightning shot down from the heavens and three of the black vans exploded. Two more were crushed beneath the weight of the sky literally falling. A few security guards were pinned beneath them, another few were on fire, and all attention was directed that way. 

    Trump’s security guards converged around him, but the Movellians were on it. A thrum of energy ran through the army, invigorating them with excitement for the attack. Prodigy smiled; Jess was working her magic. When she looked up, one of the security guards was bent over, bright red and sweating, Fever’s hand on his foot. Another was frozen as Snow pelted him with ice bombs. 

    One of the guards went for Fever, but an invisible force knocked him backwards. A microphone stand rose up on its own and slammed down on his head and he went still. There were five guards left when May started singing. Her eerie, beautiful voice came drifting from the mouth of golden-retriever-Larry, magnified through the speakers by Music. The guards stopped trying to usher Trump from the stage and began to sway, entranced. Prodigy glanced at Raven, who was shaking a bit at the edge of the stage. She was waiting for her cue. 

    The others picked off the security guards one by one. Mystique put one in a headlock, choking her until she passed out. Fever incapacitated another, and Sparrow flapped her phantom wings and teleported one somewhere far away. She reappeared just in time to see Diego go for the throat of a particularly burly guard. In the commotion, May’s voice was getting muddied, and Trump and the final guard were beginning to become aware. The guard blinked, raising his gun to point at Larry’s head.

    With a cry, Music hurled the headphones from her pocket at him. They wrapped around his hand, cutting it clean off from his wrist. He cried out and fell to his knees where Snow froze him. All that was left was Trump, cowering in the middle of a circle of Movellians. 

    “Listen, guys, we can talk about-“

    “Shut up,” Myrah barked.

    Trump was outnumbered, unarmed, and at a vast disadvantage since his only power was lying and offending people. Even so, none of the Movellians wanted to be the ones to kill him. They had the hatred for it, of course, but they feared that their powers would be tainted by evil after such a deed. But death couldn’t affect powers when death was the power. 

    Raven stepped into the circle. She looked Donald Trump in the eye, then flickered her gaze to Prodigy, who nodded. Raven drew in a breath, then opened her mouth. She let out a weird little cawing noise in Trump’s direction that kind of sounded like pew, pew, and he stiffened. She did it again, and nothing. Again, and still nothing. She tried one more time, and that time there was an effect. 

    Donald Trump’s nose bled a little. He laughed in her face. “I could do this all day.”

    Raven was shaken, embarrassed and Prodigy felt bad. This had happened before, but she thought Raven had focused her powers more since then. 

    “I thought you were, like, the Harbinger of Death or whatever,” Lightning muttered quietly. 

    Raven glared at her, and Prodigy thought for a second that Lightning was going to be the one to die. 

    Diego coughed. “So who’s going to-“

    There was a bright flash of light, and and Trump disappeared. 

    Everyone looked around. 




    Myrah spoke up, and everyone else stopped. “Guys, look.” She pointed at the small red and white Pokéball on the ground. 

    “YESSS, I CAUGHT A TRUMP!” a loud, British voice said from behind the group. They separated to let this newcomer walk up on the stage, his eyes glued on the phone in his hand. “I didn’t think I coul- Oh, shit, he escaped!” 

    Trump appeared back on the ground in another flash, disoriented and lashing out with everything he had. Raven’s eyes grew dark. Her fists balled and she shook with anger and determination. She gave a loud caw, one last shot, and he went still. So still, in fact, that he looked dead. So still, in fact, that he was dead. 

    “You did it,” Prodigy breathed. Her eyes lit up, and she said again, with more enthusiasm, “You did it!”

    Rod - and they knew his name only by the shirt he was wearing that said, “Hi, I’m Rod” - glared at Raven. “You killed my Trump. I heard he was, like, at least 1220 CP.”

    Raven wasn’t paying any attention to him. “I did it!” 

    “We did it!” Jess squealed joining the fray from behind. “AHHH GUYS I’M SO PROUD OF YOU!!” A rush of pride went through the the army, and everyone smiled. 

    “We saved the world!” Myrah said. 

    Good job, guys! Lia said from afar. 

    Oscar, Cyrus, and Hayden joined the group, moving in from the sidelines. “Now we’ll have some good news to give to Johnathan,” Cyrus said, smiling. 

    “What, that Levi’s in love with him? He hasn’t left his side since the accident,” Hayden replied. 

    Cyrus leaned his head on Hayden’s shoulder. “Guess we have two good things to tell him.”

    Jess overheard them and promptly fainted.

    “So did you avert the apocalypse, then?” Oscar asked, sounding haughty and bored, though it was clear he actually cared. 

    “We did,” Prodigy said, surveying the Movellians. “The Movellians did.”





[Thanks everyone for 500 fans. You're all pretty cool :) ]

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