The automaton had remained invisible until the other boys were done feeding handfuls of dirt and grass into his target's mouth before he faded into view. It hovered in place for a while, silent, while the little boy pulled himself up off the grass, straightened his clothes, and checked for blood running from his nose before it said:

“Oscar Jones Junior?”

The boy moved like a startled animal, hopping away from the source of the noise, before grabbing a handful of grass and throwing it, uselessly, at the automaton’s painted-on eyes. He ran as far away as he could, zig-zagging across the park benches and the leashes of dogs out on a walk jumped over the wrought iron fence and into the graveyard’s grounds, where he hunkered down among the gravestones.

The automaton politely waited until the boy was done wheezing, then said:

“You have been chosen.”

“I didn't…I never…” the boy muttered, then calmed, as the realization came to him “Dad must’ve…”

“Are you Oscar Jones Junior?” the automaton asked again. Oscar simply nodded, thinking back to when Dad had put him up on his lap when he was still in the hospital; how he’d held his hand and helped him write his name down on the little dotted line. Oscar had made a little face inside the O. Dad had laughed at that, even though laughing did hurt, on account of how it pulled at his stitches.

“You will wield the power of Stardust,” the automaton said, offering the unitard and belt to Oscar, before adding “it’s an adjustable fit.”

“Do I gotta…right here?” Oscar said, suddenly self-conscious. Even in the big city, in this overgrown part of the graveyard, the sight of a little black boy stripping himself down to his breeches to pull on a unitard would turn more than a few heads. The automaton merely looked at him, invisible gears grinding in his head, then stopped with a ding.

“What did you do?” Oscar asked, looking around, before noticing the birds in the sky, frozen mid-flight. From somewhere among the weeds, a swarm of mosquitoes had paused in the air as they blossomed outward, eager for their midsummer pestering. Up in the sky, the clouds still rolled in place, restlessly.

“Paused the temporal flow. You will remain unnoticed,” the automaton said as if that explained anything. Oscar pulled the unitard onto him and pulled on the belt, stuffing his clothes in his tattered school bag. The canvas had torn where Cassius had tugged on it, so he sewed it back in place with a pinch. The fabric stayed perfectly still, the threads hanging in the air until the automaton undid the pause and the material put itself back together.

“Why is that working now?” Oscar asked.

“I excluded us from the effect,” the automaton said.

“Just like that? You stopped time for everybody but us?”

“How would you do it?” the automaton asked. Oscar fumbled for an answer, then finally gave up, before letting himself fly up to cloud cover, flicking through the menus and the options, finally settling for one of them “is that going to fix my face?”

“Stardust’s suit creates an imprint of your state at the time you wore the suit. You can return to it at any time,” the automaton said.

“So that’s a no,” Oscar said, before searching for the option of a RESTORATIVE RAY, making his bruises and nose good as new and fixing his busted lip “that oughtta do it.”

Five minutes later, Oscar was mending his clothes on top of an apartment building’s roof, cleaning grass and dirt stains and knitting the fabric back together, from where Cassius and his bullies had torn them. The work was slow and methodical, interrupted by Oscar having to swat at the mosquitoes that would and sting him as he worked. He finally stopped as one of the bolder mosquitoes dove straight into his ear and stung him on the inside of the heel.

“Damn it!” Oscar shouted, digging his finger, uselessly in his ear, as the insect buzzed away, unharmed “If Stardust is so great, how come he never did anything about these damn pests?”

“You can,” the automaton offered. Oscar stared at it for a while, trying to come up with some answer, then began to flick through the suit’s menus, until he found the option he thought he was looking for.

“That’s it right? Extinction ray?” Oscar asked. The automaton said nothing

Oscar turned, directing the strange energy of the ray into his hand, channeling it into his index finger. He focused his senses, using the suit’s dampeners to eliminate any outside interference until he made out a single mosquito, fattened with blood, as it bobbed into the air. With a wave of his hand, he loosened the ray, zapping it in mid-air. It fell…

…and every other mosquito in the sky fell with it. There was a brief moment of utter silence, as the ubiquitous buzzing had finally gone, before the city’s sounds rushed in, not even registering the brief downpour of dead insects that fell across the world all at once.

“Cool,” Oscar said and went back to fixing his clothes. When he was finally done and everything was bunched up inside his school bag, he formed another tubular spacial and flew off, with the automaton trailing behind him “So why did Stardust give all this up? It looks like a pretty sweet deal…”

“Stardust is merely exploring other options,” the automaton said, then added, “and candidates.”

“Candidates for what? Wait, scratch that,” Oscar said, then dove, changing direction slightly: he’d just seen Niles, Cassius’ little bruiser friend, the one who’d always pin Oscar down using his knees so Cornell could fill his mouth with dirt. His fat legs were pumping away at the pedals of his bright red bike, the one his dad, the banker had got him. Oscar sped up, dove in Nile’s way, then landed in the middle of the narrow little road. The fat bully noticed him, too late and braked as hard as he could, but smashed against Oscar’s shimmering energy field. Niles screamed as he flew over Oscar’s head, before finally thudding down against the grass.

Oscar laughed, despite himself, as he watched the bully try to wipe away the grass that clung against his clothes. Niles was somehow still keeping his cool, until he saw the twisted remains of his bike, laid down on the dirt road.

“Bet you won’t be laughing after I’ve busted your teeth in you little twerp,” Niles said, stomping toward Oscar “gonna have to chew real hard when I feed you your stupid blue onesie.”

“That’s far enough,” Oscar said, flicking at a choice in the menu. Niles hopped, skipped, then finally leaned over, teetering on the edge, as his feet became stuck on the ground.

“My feet! What’d you do to my-” Niles screamed as he looked down at his shoes, where thick brown roots had burst out of the fabric and dug themselves into the ground. Oscar simply moved his hands in the air, flicking through options, then picked another, without a word “let me go, damn it! Let me go!”

Niles screamed, even as his outstretched hands became long and stiff and the skin was hard and covered in cracks. He kept fighting, as his short, stubby fingers grew and grew, the skin splitting and the nails exploding out as branches burst through and his abdomen stretched out, his belly button widening into a tree hollow. He kept screaming at Oscar as his hair fell out, replaced by leaves.

“I’ll get you…you little…I’m gonna get yrrghl,” Niles said, hoking as Oscar turned his tongue into moss, filling it until no words would come out. Nile’s lips and nose and brow became bark and his nostrils and ears bristled with mushrooms, as his branches and top became heavy with oranges. Oscar made them extra fragrant and fat, to draw in every bird and rodent and crawling creature in the park.

When he was done, he left Niles with nothing but his eyes to see, lungs to scream, and his brain, so he’d know what had been done to him and that no one could ever help him.

“Almost forgot,” Oscar said, as he mended Niles’ bike and places it against his brand new bark “sorry about your bike.”

Just then, Oscar’s collectible TABU wristwatch began to beep. The boy looked at it, then pulled his backpack on his shoulders and flew off.

“Aw no, momma’s coming home!” he said, as he sped back to his place at trans-luminal speeds.

***

“Oscar,” Momma’s voice came the second he’d stepped in through his bedroom window. Checking with his x-ray vision, Oscar saw Momma pacing in the downstairs living room, still in her nurse’s uniform. Her eyes were puffy and her hair was a mess, the aftermath of a 24-hour shift “I know you’re up there.”

“Best stay out of sight,” Oscar whispered to the automaton. It complied, as Oscar fumbled for his clothes, untangling the bundle he’d made in his bag as fast as he could…

“I can hear you shuffling around. You best not be hiding from me,” Momma said, as she stomped up the stairs, while Oscar pulled on his shirt, struggling with the buttons.

The doorknob turned as Oscar pulled his pants over the unitard, the leg bunched up against his heel, not giving way. He gritted his teeth with a final pull that made the hem of his jeans tear, ever so slightly…

“Are you hiding from me again?” Momma said, stepping into the room. Oscar was laying on his bed, his Fantomah comic laid out in front of him at the swimsuit centerfold.

“Hey Momma, you’re home early,” Oscar lied. Momma gave him one of her patented don’t give me that looks, before she noticed the tear in his pants.

“What happened to your pants?”

“Caught them in something.”

“I talked to Ms. Hayes. She told me that she saw those boys messing with you again.”

“It’s fine.”

“No, Oscar, it’s not fine! You can’t let those bullies get away with it! I’m gonna go have a talk with your headmaster, get them…”

“Momma,” Oscar said.

“Gonna get them suspended, kicked outta school, and then we’re gonna have a talk with the rest of the faculty, figure out what the hell they’re doing that lets little boys get…”

“Momma, listen…”

“You’d think they’re running a goddamn prison over there. Who do those little punks think they are? And if they don’t listen this time, then I’m gonna…”

“Momma,” Oscar said, holding Momma’s hand, letting Stardust’s Calming Ray seep through him and into her until she relaxed “it’s okay. I’m taking care of it.”

“What do you mean you’re…” Momma asked, but the ray had already flowed through her and she was barely able to string two words together, never mind keep her eyes open, as Oscar helped her on her feet.

“You’re really tired, Momma. Had a bad day,” Oscar said. Momma just nodded as she let him lead her down and onto the couch, while he fiddled with the fabricator rays. Momma was half asleep by the time Oscar had made the five-course dinner materialize on the dinner table “I made dinner.”

“How did you…” Momma asked between bites, her words slurring. They barely spoke until she was finally wiping the last traces of creme brulee off her lips “you’re such a good boy. You deserve a better Momma.”

“Shh, Momma, you’re perfect,” Oscar said.

“Perfect Mommas don’t spend two days in the ICU,” Momma said, as she stumbled toward the couch, her eyelids drooping. Oscar simply stroked her hair, as she slowly drifted to sleep “you’re alone too long, baby…”

“It’s okay. I don’t need anyone. We won’t need anyone, soon,” Oscar whispered as Momma finally relaxed. Oscar waited until she was completely asleep, before levitating her on a null-gravitic ray, then led her into her bedroom and closed the door behind him.

***

“Stardust won’t mind, will he? That I’m going after some bullies first?” Oscar asked the automaton, as they flew across the night sky. Out in the distance, fire-fighting planes flew across the river toward Carthage, its riverside districts still burning white-hot in places for a week now.

“His purpose is to destroy evil. Regardless of its form and scope,” the automaton said, reassuring him. Oscar nodded, turning his tracker toward Cornell’s fancy house in the suburbs. His dad was a dentist and his mother was a lawyer, so they could afford a place with a garden and a pool. Oscar knew because Cornell’s father had let him sleep over once, but hadn’t let him touch anything or have any dinner. He’d later found out it was simply a punishment for Cornell; teaching him what his children would end up like if he didn’t make it into college.

Oscar hovered, silently, over Cornell’s home and scanned its interior. Cornell was alone, except for his terminally bored babysitter, almost passed out on the couch and his mother’s clowder of rare cat breeds. Cornell would always go on about his mom’s prized cats: how rare and pure they were. It was the only thing in the entire house Oscar had been allowed to touch.

Hovering through the living room window, Oscar encased the babysitter’s head in a Mesmer Field, making the teenager drift off into a trance. He flew, silently, through the living room, toward the small kitchen island where Cornell shoveled spoonfuls of cereal and milk into his mouth, eyes glued to a book. Oscar flicked through his menus, preparing his beam to aim at Cornell…

And then the beige fluffy cat that had perched itself on the kitchen counter hissed, just as the automaton phased through the wall. Cornell looked up, just in time to see Oscar, hovering over the carpet, his fingers raised. He was cruel and the meanest of Oscar’s bullies but he was also the smartest; smart enough, anyway, to toss his bowl of milk and cereal at Oscar and dive away from the island for cover.

“Damn it!” Oscar shouted as the milk and cereal showered his face and unitard and his Rainbow Binding ray bounced off the granite countertop, across the inox surface of the fridge, and out the window, causing Cornell’s dad’s hammock to become tied with iridescent energy rings. All around him, the cats would hiss and yowl, their eyes fixed on the automaton, seemingly oblivious to their presence.

“Movement. By the back door,” the automaton said. Oscar aimed a locking ray that caused the door to melt into the wall, just as Cornell dove for it, then made the windows disappear. Oscar hovered to his position, just in time for Cornell to hit him with a faceful of cat. It screeched and scratched at Oscar’s face, digging its claws into his cheeks before he finally threw it off him, catching Cornell as he ran to the back of the house, toward his father’s study.

“Just give up! I won’t hurt you!” Oscar lied, flying behind Cornell just as his mother’s office door slammed into his face. There was the frantic sound of a cabinet door opening and closing as Oscar found the shove ray. With a flick of his hand, he blew the reinforced door off its hinges and floated inside…

…he barely had time to register the gun in Cornell’s hand as he clumsily brought it up, then pulled the trigger.

The shot roared like thunder in the small room, with the impact of the bullet knocking Oscar off his feet. There was a stabbing, searing pain in his gut from where the bullet had got him in the belly. From his place, curled up on the floor, Oscar screamed in pain. Cornell dropped the gun, staring at it, then at the little boy in blue who was bleeding on the carpet.

“Oh my God, oh my God, I’m sorry I’m sorry please stop screaming, please…” Cornell said, his hands clamped over his ears, his back turned to Oscar so he couldn’t notice the strange motions of the boy’s fingers, flicking through the air. Not until the ray had shot through the air and arced over his mom’s expensive mahogany desk to hit him, enveloping him in a muted violet aura

“What are you doing? What are you-” Cornell said, even as his voice became increasingly tinier and his head dipped down under the edge of the desk, his hands turning into tiny paws as he slipped out of his clothes, small and naked, save for the coarse grey-brown fur on his body. He tried to move, only to trip on his new, long tail.

Cornell tried to scream, but there was only a long, tattered squeak that abruptly cut off as the cats began to pour into the room. Oscar tried to follow, but his vision blurred, as the agony of the bullet that had torn through his gut flared up again.

Slowly, he sank into oblivion, the distant voice of the automaton fading in from the edges of his slipping consciousness:

“Do you require assistance?”