Justin Strikes original opening

My original draft of “Justin Strikes: The Unknown Inflictor” from 2018

Prologue— How it came to be

Mrs. Willows sat in her living room, waiting for her husband to return from work, when the phone rang. She quickly got up and picked up the extension.

“Hello?” said Mrs. Willows. 

“Willene??” said a woman’s voice, a friend of Mrs. Willows. She usually sounded pleasant with a clear, crystal voice, but now her voice shook in a small whisper.

“Yes. Clara?” Said Mrs. Willows in a scared tone.

“Willene, He’s coming. The one that Gerald and I have been trying to stop. Blackglycerin, he’s here. He found us.”

“Clara, slow down.” She said as she became scared and her heart began to race. “Who is there? And why?”

“The man threatening to take over the country. He wants to get rid of us to not be stopped. But…” she paused, breathing heavily. “We at the organization found a way to stop him. A way to rid him of his powers, to end him before he takes over. We are going to try to escape, and if you don’t mind, we’d like to stay with you for a bit. But if Gerald and I don’t make it…” Mrs. Willows heard her draw in a deep breath. “I’d like for you to raise Terrence and Justin.”

“I can’t raise them with their abilities! And I have two kids of my own!” Exclaimed Mrs. Willows.

“You are an amazing mother. And they won’t receive their abilities until they are twelve. Terrence is six, and Justin is three, you have a while till that time comes. But Willene…”

“Yes?” said Mrs. Willows, almost in tears.

“Don’t tell them of their origins until the time comes. Until they get their abilities, don’t tell them about their powers. If they were to reveal who they were, he might try to kill them, too. I don’t want that for them.

Mrs. Willows heard a loud bang from the other side of the phone.

“He’s here,” Clara said in a hushed voice, fear in her voice. “We’ll be there shortly… or not at all.” 

Clara hung up the phone, but not before she heard a second loud BANG, like a heavy object being dropped, followed by a male scream.

There was a flash of purple light emitting from the porch, followed by the sound of footsteps. Mrs. Willows approached the door and peeked out through the curtains on the side window. She gasped at what she saw and flung open the door.

On her porch stood a tall, dark-haired man with multiple severe injuries, and two kids, one held by the father and the other holding his free hand. 

“Where’s Clara?” Mrs. Willows asked, dreading the answer.

The man looked up at her through glassy eyes and shook his head.

Mrs. Willows blinked through her tears and swallowed the lump in her throat as she gestured into the house.

“Come in, I'll fix you up.”