The Man Called Pathos

The man in this story is one of my comic book characters and also appears in my stories “The Binding Mask” and “What Was Sacrificed”.

The hoodlum stood hidden in the shadows and continued to watch his intended victim. He only got a glimpse of his face, but overall he guessed the man to be in his thirties or forties. Though his clothing wasn’t fancy, he gave the impression of being financially secure. He carried himself well, but the hoodlum had run into plenty of victims whose composure and bravado had disappeared when they were attacked or even threatened. The hoodlum smirked as he anticipated an easy robbery.

The man came to a halt at a bus stop and leaned against the signpost. The hoodlum checked the surroundings. Seeing no witnesses in sight, he stealthily left his hiding place and approached the man. Once he was within a couple yards he took out his switchblade knife and flicked it open. The man moved slightly at the sound, but otherwise made no response.

“Don’t turn around or you’ll regret it!” barked the hoodlum.

“Am I to assume that you’re a mugger, then?” asked the man calmly.

The nonchalance of his intended victim caught the hoodlum off-guard, but he replied, “Yeah, this is a mugging! Now fork it over!”

The man slowly raised his hands up past his head. “I hate violence. Isn’t there some way we can work this out?”

“Yeah, by you forking your wallet over!”

“Listen, I’d-”

“You think I’m playin’!? Your money or your life!”

The man sighed, and the hoodlum suddenly felt tightness in his chest. The man moved his arms, but instead of reaching for his wallet, he took his right hand, touched his left wrist with his right index and middle fingers, and made a swift swiping motion. The hoodlum suddenly felt a sharp, burning pain in his left wrist. He cried out and dropped the knife in shock. The man then touched his right wrist with his left index and middle fingers and made another swiping motion, one more forceful than the previous one. The hoodlum felt an even more intense pain in his right wrist. He cried out in fear again and clutched the wrist. He was astonished at the sharp, sudden pain, but he was even more astonished to look and see that were no visible wounds on either wrist, no discernable reason he should be feeling this pain.

The man turned to face the hoodlum. His eyes glowed with both anger and sadness, and underneath those eyes were dark shadows which gave him a weary look. “I told you I’d prefer to work this out, but you chose to threaten me.” He jabbed his right arm with his left index finger, causing the hoodlum to feel stabbing pain in the same area. The man continued, “Do you know what the word ‘pathos’ means? It’s a Greek word meaning ‘suffering’, ‘experience’, or ‘emotion’. My powers allow me to experience the emotion and suffering of others, and to cause others to experience the emotion of suffering as well.”

He quickly drew his right index and middle fingers across his abdomen, causing the hoodlum to clutch his belly and drop to his knees, his every muscle tensing as a result of the pain. “This is the pain you have inflicted on others.”

The man ran his index fingers across his arms, causing the hoodlum to feel searing pain in his. The man watched with a somber air as the hoodlum began to cry, then took out a cell phone. “I’m calling the police. Don’t make me hurt you any more, okay?”

The shocked hoodlum nodded. As he listened to the man call the police, he wondered what exactly he had come across.