Golden Star Origin Story

[Poncho]

Mid September, 2023

 

Only a few lights were on in Sampson’s Sodas as Sam transferred the cash from the register to the safety envelope, closing and locking it. She noted down the total from the register in the accounts book and flipped it closed. 

 

Michael was finishing up mopping, a necessary task in a place that sold so many sugary beverages. It had been a pretty good day for sales, but that also meant a pretty good day for accidents. 

 

“Hey Mike.” 

 

“Yeah?” 

 

“How much longer are we gonna do this job anyway?” Sam asked. It wasn’t like Michael was the boss or anything; it was just that they did everything together, so neither of them would leave the other high and dry if they had any reason not to do so. She closed the register and went to wipe off any residue from the serving fountains as they talked. 

 

“I dunno. I kinda like it. I mean it’s not a permanent job or anything but I don’t see any reason to want to leave it any time soon.” He didn’t mention, and she didn’t bring up, that Sam had missed a few shifts lately; He’d always covered for them, so it wasn’t a big deal, but she had been having other things to do instead of work, and Michael had picked up the slack. 

 

“I guess that’s fair, there’s way worse jobs we could have. I’d rather work here than a random fast food joint. Then we wouldn’t even get a discount or coupons.” she mumbled, pulling her hair out of its ponytail.

 

“We’d probably be paid worse too.” He said with a laugh. Done with mopping, he pulled the mopping sheet off the bottom of it and dumped it in the trash bag destined for the dumpster tonight, tying it closed and hefting it over his shoulder as the two locked the front door and headed into the back area.

 

The back area of Sampson’s was much less opening then the front; instead of a trendy looking hangout, the back- which took up more space- was a converted warehouse building with various vats and desks. Coming up with exact recipes for various syrups was a time consuming process that was more art than science; the percentages of individual ingredients, the strength of their taste, the additional chemicals could all result in changes to the taste. The machines were off, but the mixing stations were filled with notes- some on computers, some on paper- of different formulas and ideas. A meeting room in the back with a glass wall showed notes for next spring’s plans for sodas. 

 

Even though they didn’t produce industrial amounts of soda, they had some larger containers for their most popular or always available sodas. Cleaning out the smaller tanks- those that were limited run or special editions- was a multi day process to avoid contamination, enough that it was considered a miserable job. Currently, there was only one person in the entire building besides the two of them, and he was carefully watching as his newest concoction of syrup was being poured into a below ground vat. His name, Michael would recall for the rest of his life, was Patrick Cooper. He was a thin faced man who looked far more like a respectable scientist then a Soda maker, and always seemed perpetually worried. As the two younger employees finished their chores, they waved at him, then wandered over to where he was standing on top of the half closed lid of the vat. 

 

“Hey Patrick!” Michael said, as cheerful as he always was. “What are you working on now?” The nervous seeming man turned towards him and wrung his fingers a little, looking between the two kids and the vat.

 

“Oh...this? This is uh...we were calling it Hour of Power. It’s got Dragonfruit and Strawberry and the...M...I mean, yeah, Dragonfruit and Strawberry. Making a...a....a super limited run, I think...we’re hoping it sells well as a collector’s item.” he mumbled. He had that way about how he talked; that he was never looking at you so all his words came out almost muffled and you had to strain to hear him. It wasn’t really helped by his stuttering, and he always acted like he had something to hide, which was kind of ridiculous because he worked as a soda engineer. His timid nature annoyed Sam about him- but most things about people annoyed Sam-.

 

“Come on, speak up a bit. You should be proud of it if you made it!” Sam barked, slapping him on the shoulder. “Successful people shouldn’t be embarrassed about being successful, and you make some of the most well liked flavors don’t you?” Patrick stumbled a bit but grinned.

 

“Yeah. You’re right. I do. Thanks Sam.”

 

“No problem. You’re like twice our age anyway, so shouldn’t you be the confident one and we’re the ones who are all nervous about talking to you?” she teased.

 

“Hah..more confidence huh? I guess I really should show some.” he admitted. He took a moment to look at his clipboard, filled with complicated formulas and directions. “I need to finish jotting down the recipe for this, and then I’ll lock up the back. I’ll see you two later alright?” 

 

Michael and Sam’s response was drowned out by the sound of the wall exploding into shattered brick and useless plaster as the entire building shook. A vehicle more akin to a tank smashed through half the wall and, acting surprisingly decisively for a mild-mannered scientist, Patrick shoved both Sam and Michael into the vat, throwing his clipboard after them.

 

“Don’t say anything. Be extremely quiet.” He barked at them as they hit the liquid.

 

The syrup was thick and heavy, more like molasses than water, and they started to sink immediately, barely able to keep their heads above the syrup by scrabbling against the mostly smooth sides of the vat. There was an immediate understanding that this was a dangerous situation and that their best hopes of getting away from it unscathed were to do exactly what Patrick had told them to do, so neither said a word as they hung onto the smooth walls of the vat, under the half closed lid where Patrick was standing, fingers trying to find purchase on smooth metal bolts and bands as they kicked their legs hard to stay above the bright red syrup. They could hear heavy steps moving up above them and voices.

 

“You’re one of the scientists huh?” this voice was gruff and hard, no nonsense

 

“Y..yes. Please don’t hurt me.” came Patrick’s reply

 

“Well that depends entirely on what you can do for us. You know we’re in the same business.” This voice was a lot clearer than the previous unknown individual, relaxed and confident. “I just want to compare notes, like all good scientists should.”

 

“Sure, no problem.” Patrick responded. “No need to get rough.”

 

“I quite agree. Why don’t you just let us collect all your work and notes and a few samples and we’ll be on our way.” There were more boots, but the three above the two teens hiding in the vat didn’t move. “Is this your latest experimental batch?”

 

“It is.”

 

“You have the formula for it?”

 

“N..No. I hadn’t written it down yet. We were producing it for testing. You know we don’t test these on kids so the containers have to be sterilized completely both to avoid tainting batches with prior attempts and getting anything into kid’s drinks.”

 

“Well you can finish the formula at our lab. Ours, at least, doesn’t mean you have to make a bunch of soda for kids. Though to be honest, I think kids would make excellent test subjects and you’re really missing out on the possibilities here; their bodies are much more likely to adapt well to the effects.” It was around this time that Michael started feeling the itching all over his body, like ants were crawling across his skin. He cut his eyes towards Sam, and noticed that her eyes seemed to be tinged with red. But it was getting easier to hold onto the side of the wall, easier to stay swimming. But they still didn’t move from their hiding spot. 

 

“...I’m not getting a choice am I?” Patrick asked. 

 

“Not at all. We’ll be collecting a sample of this as well. Go ahead and dump the rest of this stuff out, we’d prefer to be the only ones with your latest formula.” There was a scuffling sound and the drain activated in the vat, slowly pumping out the syrup. The vat was almost full, so it was going to take awhile, but there were more sounds as people walked. “Alright, come on then, we’ve only got so much time after all.” the unknown leader said as their voice grew dimmer and dimmer. “Oh, and close that hatch and break it. Wouldn’t want any prying ears. Just in case.” 

 

The lid of the Vat flipped fully shut, then there was a sound of rending, popping steel as the edges of it were literally punched into twisted shapes, sealing it and leaving the two in complete darkness outside of the sound of the pump slowly sucking away the syrup. Which did absolutely nothing for the amount of air in the tank, which was already suffering from there being two kids in it who were breathing heavily with the exertion of trying to keep their heads above the syrup and the downpull of the drain. Michael slowly felt his thoughts getting further away as he continued to try and swim up, to hang on and breathe slowly, to stay calm, but he could start to see spots in his vision and the darkness was getting very, very heavy.

 

Then he felt very light all of a sudden, and he didn’t remember anything else.

 

Two Weeks Later

 

Michael was exceptionally surprised when his boss entered his hospital room. He had not been expecting Sandra Sampson to do more than send a card- which she had-, but here she was in the flesh, her face, as always, a serious mask. She never seemed to have the appropriate temperament to run a soda store, but appearances could be deceiving, Michael had thought to himself. But now she shut the door behind her and sat in a chair next to his bed, her gray hair framing an extremely stern face.

 

“I’m not getting fired am I?” He broke the silence. She almost smiled.

 

“The opposite. You’re being...highly encouraged to continue your job.” She replied.

 

“I am?” 

 

“Let me be very clear.” she straightened up and he felt like he was back in that original interview, and he was completely locked in place.

 

“I am Sandra Sampson, and while I do own Sampson’s Sodas, I am also a government contractor under A.E.G.I.S. researching the manaka root, which has previously granted individuals superhuman powers. The formula you were thrown into has been, so far, our only successful test batch. The scientist that made that batch has been kidnapped, the formula ruined, and we have no notes. You and Samantha are the only remaining confirmations that that batch worked. We want to keep you safe, and help you not hurt yourself with these powers. But all of that means we will be keeping a close eye on you, you will be continuing your job, and we will help you hide your identity. But that means you’re going to Claremont Academy now as well; you need teachers.” That was enough information to make someone's head spin, and way too much to even begin to process while sitting in a hospital bed. He had to stop and mull over most of it, before taking a deep breath and focusing on the part that actually drew the most interest from him.

 

“....That...that was a lot of information.”

 

“There will be time to process it later, and more information given as we get the chance to. For now, your life is suddenly even more on rails than it was before. We can work through this together, your parents, you, and my company. Right now, what I need from you is confirmation that you understand what I just said.” He decided to focus only one the part that had meant the most for him, at the focus that was making his adrenaline pump again.

 

“So...if I have powers...I can become a Superhero right?” This paused her for a moment, trying to figure out how to react to how well he seemed to be taking it.

 

“...Sure. If you finish your training, you can become a Superhero.”

 

“Then I want a costume too.” She was quiet for a while again.

 

“Alright, we’ll make you a costume. You have to pick out your own name though.”

 

“I’ll figure one out.”

Edited November 25, 2023 by Poncho
Edit the last part to try and make it a little better.