[ WP ] - A old man tells the story of his superpower , and the reason he never used it .

*'' They offered me millions, you know. It was back in the forties. I answered some ad in the paper to do with the war effort. `` * 
 
 My grandfather looked at me, then past me. His eyes unfocused for a moment, while he relived the morning he changed his life forever. To think something so innocuous as a morning paper could have that kind of power is a little bit disconcerting, really. Then again, the most harmless things are often the most destructive. 
 
 *'' You know, Trick, sometimes I wonder if I should have taken them up on their offer. After the mice, and the birds, and then the dogs... Well..'' * he trailed off again. 
 
 The oxygen machine made its incessant *shushing* noise for the millionth time, and my grandfather caught his breath. 
 
 He's always called me Trick. It's short for Patrick. My parents wanted a solid name, and my grandfather suggested it. Reminded him of a friend, he said. We never met his friend. I am named for this man, and I have no idea who he was, or what he did. 
 
 *'' I just did n't have the heart,'' * he continued. *'' Those poor animals. I do n't know why they did n't just believe me, after the first few died. I told them what I could do, but they insisted on more testing, more proof. It broke my heart, every time. `` * 
 
 I watched my grandfather carefully. He had been in the war, of course - all able-bodied young men enlisted, and many were sent to fight the good fight. I assumed he'd killed people, because that's what you do in a war. But this talk of dying animals puzzled me. 
 
 *'' Trick,'' * he looked at me again, and I was shaken to discover that he was close to tears. My grandfather, who was always such a big, powerful man, was reduced to tears over something that had happened fifty years ago. I wondered if being resigned to a hospital bed had started working on his thinking. 
 
 *'' Trick,'' * he said again, and this time there was some of the man I grew up admiring in his voice. 
 
 *'' I refused,'' * he told me, his voice rock steady, and full of pride. *'' I told those scientists and officers that I would n't do what they wanted. `` * 
 
 He sighed, and looked at his hands. I loved those hands. When I was a child, his hands seemed so huge, and indestructible. It was impossible to imagine a world in which the man those hands belonged to was no longer living. 
 
 *'' I wanted to help,'' * he said. *'' I knew I would be sent to shoot young men overseas, with a gun. I knew I would kill them, anyway. But somehow, doing it any other way seemed unfair. It was... unsportsmanlike. `` * 
 
 Our eyes met again. I sat quietly and waited. 
 
 *'' I volunteered to assassinate Hitler,'' * he whispered. *'' The problem was, I had to be in the room, and actually see him with my own eyes. They tried to tell me about some kind of psychic thing... something called'remote viewing', I think. They said it would be like I was there, and if I concentrated hard enough... But I knew it would n't work. I did try, though. I did it to appease them. When they realized they'd have to send me over there, and get me in a room with him, they went ballistic. `` * 
 
 He smiled at me, and then his face got sad. 
 
 *'' One of the guys they sent to escort me - his name was Patrick. He could do the most amazing things with playing cards. We all called him Trick, and he'd do his thing in the villages to make friends with the locals. A lot of those people were farmers, and they'd never seen anything like him. It was magic, yes, and so simple, but Trick made friends everywhere he went because of what he could do with his hands. `` * 
 
 My grandfather was tired, and he needed rest, but I had to hear this. 
 
 I waited. 
 
 *'' I was a young man, then. There was a war on, of course, and it was brutally cold, but we had a hell of a time, wandering the countryside. We had to come down to Berlin from the north, quietly, and we mostly moved in pairs. I was with Trick almost all the time, but we'd meet up with the other guys now and then, usually at night, and have ourselves a game of poker. We'd camp out in a barn, and share a bottle of whatever those farmers could spare. It was quite the adventure. `` * 
 
 He smiled again, thinking about his friends who were really something of a guard, taking him to assassinate a man who had, at that point, killed millions of people, and would continue to do so, if he was n't stopped. 
 
 *'' It was early April, and it was a mild night. We must have gotten a bit too rowdy, because a patrol heard us. We did n't have any warning. One minute, Lance was crowing about a natural flush, and the next, he was dead on the floor, with a smoking hole between his eyes. I got scared, and panicked. I jumped behind the other men, because that's what I was supposed to do. They took all the fire, and I got away without a scratch. The Germans either did n't see me, or did n't care if I lived or died. They laughed while they took the few coins from our sad little poker pot, and one of them kicked Lance on the way out. `` * 
 
 He breathed, the oxygen machine breathed, and I sat holding my breath. 
 
 *'' Trick was still alive when I finally got up the courage to come out of the dark corner I hid in. He was gutshot, and in pain. His eyes rolled up at me, and I could tell what he was thinking. He knew why I was there, and what I could do. `` * 
 
 *'' Do n't make me,'' I begged him. But there was no other choice. I knew I had to help him. He watched me, pain etching deep lines in his face, and I finally gave in. I told him I was sorry, that I wish I had reacted faster, and killed those bastards. He smiled at me, and I stopped his heart. * 
 
 My grandfather looked at me again. 
 
 *'' I killed my friend, that night. It was the only night I ever used what I could do on a person. I knew I could, and I would have killed Hitler if things had been different. Oh, he died anyway, just a few weeks later. They said it was a gunshot to his face, or a pill, or maybe both, but I seem to remember there being another young chap at the same training facility, who went by the name of Stark, or Spark, maybe. He had the same kind of ability as I did, in a way. Only that boy could make things move, while I could only make them stop. `` * 
 
 My grandfather clasped his hands on his lap, and smiled. 
 
 *'' The village helped me bury them. Trick got laid to rest under a big, shaggy tree. I hated to leave them there, but that's what we had to do, then. We had no choice. `` * 
 
 He paused. 
 
 *'' I walked back the way I came, and had no trouble. No one worried about a single man walking in the country. It took a few weeks, but I met up with the boys that would get me back to safety, right on schedule. They did n't know about my failure, because Hitler was dead by then, and they just assumed I had completed my mission. `` * 
 
 He sat for a few minutes without saying anything. I could tell how difficult this was for him. 
 
 *'' They offered me millions, did I tell you? I refused. I did n't think I deserved it, after the little animals, and what happened to Patrick. I would n't have been able to spend a penny of it in good conscience. I felt so bad about those boys who died protecting me. I never did use it again, after the war, you know. They offered me millions, but I refused...'' * 
 
 He trailed off, and a few minutes later, he was deeply asleep. I sat beside his bed for awhile, waiting to see if he'd wake up, but he never did. 
 
 On my way out of the hospital, I stopped to pick up a pack of playing cards. I had n't gotten out of the parking lot before I got the call that he'd died.
