《Macro-Kinetic (Superhero Transmigration)》


 Chapter 1 - [Chicago]

    When I opened my eyes in shock, I was lying face down in a puddle. I jerked up into a crouching position and felt my body for any wounds. My leather jacket and helmet were damp with stale water, but I was not wounded in any way.


    A moment before, I was speeding down the highway on my motorcycle, and a huge truck had suddenly merged into my lane. It was all a blur. The only thing I was certain of was that I should not have been able to escape that collision without a scratch.


    I spent a few seconds steadying my breath as I slowly lifted myself to my feet. Looking around, I realized that I was standing in an alleyway lined by two tall buildings. Somehow, I had been transported to a major population center.


    This evident teleportation was not the most shocking fact, however. I pulled off my helmet and shook the hair out of my eyes (it had been more than a month since my last haircut) as the bright midday sun shone down on me. It had been the middle of the night moments before.


    ¡°Well, I don¡¯t feel dead, so this probably isn¡¯t the afterlife,¡± I muttered to myself as I examined the city around me. Broadly speaking, the buildings resembled those of Chicago architecturally, though I didn¡¯t recognize them. I was in Michigan a few seconds ago, so that seemed like the most probable reality.


    Reach out. Use your mind to manipulate the world around you.


    Wow, I really must have hit my head. Unbidden, a thought entered my mind that I knew originated from some other source. It felt like my mind had become an old radar dish that was picking up rogue signals that were filtering through the air.


    Whatever. I decided to humor the voice. It wasn¡¯t like I had anything better to do, after all. A small pebble laid on the ground a few feet from me, and I reached my hand out in its direction. I imagined my grip extending out beyond my hand and wrapping around the pebble.


    Amazed, I watched as an invisible force grasped the pebble and lifted it a few inches into the air. I moved my hand, and the pebble moved through the air. The voice was right; I could move objects with my mind.


    ¡°Oh, I see. This must be one of those lucid dreams I¡¯ve been hearing about,¡± I muttered.


    The floating pebble began to glow and spark as I held it in an invisible hand. I looked at it closely and realized that the pebble had liquified and transformed into magma. It vibrated with a dangerous energy that I found very unsettling. It was like standing near a car¡¯s rapidly spinning wheel that had been lifted off the ground. Though the pebble was currently contained, I could sense that the slightest alteration would cause a violent explosion of outward force.


    Slowly, I lowered my clenched hand, and the floating pebble matched my motion. The pebble never reached the ground as a hole was dug into the asphalt, preventing the ground from touching the pebble.


    Clenching my teeth, I put a warding hand between myself and the pebble as I carefully released my grip on the small orb of magma. The moment the seal was broken, splattered flecks of magma exploded outward, striking nearby buildings and flying toward my vulnerable body. Before the exploding chunks of liquid rock could strike me, they crashed against an invisible barrier of telekinetic force, solidifying instantaneously against the barrier and transforming into a steaming black obsidian rock. Blinking in shock, I stared at the floating speck of obsidian. As I went to look, I lowered my upheld hand. The obsidian fell to the ground, shattering on the ground.


    ¡°This is really detailed for a dream.¡±


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    I looked down at the palm of my hand and looked closely at the lines. A long time ago, someone told me that palm lines didn¡¯t appear in dreams. When I looked at my palm, however, it looked the same as always.


    ¡°Simulation, then,¡± I said, deciding to abandon the dream hypothesis.


    ¡°Let¡¯s take a moment to get our bearings,¡± I said, talking to myself like a crazy person. ¡°I¡¯m in¡­ Chicago, I think? I can now use telekinesis, though it¡¯s much stronger than I would expect. Mental note: don¡¯t use that on a person. You don¡¯t want to pick up a murder charge.¡±


    I paused for a moment, thinking about what to do next.


    ¡°The next step is to get home. If I can¡¯t find my bike, I¡¯ll need to find another way back. Are there any buses from Chicago to Lansing?¡±


    I flipped my phone out of my pocket. It turned on, evidently undamaged from the crash, though I couldn¡¯t get a signal. That was strange. I was in the middle of a major city. I must have forgotten to pay a bill or something, and AT&T cut off my service. I would just have to borrow somebody else¡¯s phone.


    The street just outside of my alleyway was packed with foot traffic as one would expect from downtown Chicago in the middle of the day. I was surprised to find that most of the people walking down the street were dressed in cheap clothing and wore dour expressions on their faces.


    Some of the people on the street struck me as laborers, since they wore the utilitarian boots and overalls one would expect of a construction worker or farmer. These laborers were the most affluent people on the street, however. The rest of the people present seemed like homeless people.


    It was, frankly, shocking. I had never seen so much poverty condensed in one place. I must have ended up in a remarkably bad part of town. Typically, in downtown Chicago, you would expect to see a good number of lawyers and accountants out on the street in the middle of the day. The crowd made my simple leather jacket look like a flagrant luxury.


    Before I could approach anyone to ask any of a myriad of questions, a large message appeared on a gargantuan television that had been built on the side of a nearby building.


    BREAKING NEWS


    A woman in a suit replaced the two large words a moment later. With a harrowed look on her face, she looked at the camera and said, ¡°Breaking news: Doctor Lazarus has launched an attack on Pacific City. We cut now to our reporter on the ground, John Carmichael.¡±


    The scene shifted to a male reporter hiding in cover behind a large concrete divider. His tie was askew, and his expensive suit was covered in dust and ash. In the background of the shot, a massive humanoid machine took heavy lumbering steps. The machine¡¯s head must have been twenty stories in the air, and it was wide enough that it took up nearly all the space between the nearby buildings.


    ¡°What the Hell?¡± I swore as I saw the building-sized mech take a step. It was like a scene from a movie that was being passed off as a legitimate piece of news. Was this some kind of prank? Surely, nobody believed it.


    As I looked around, however, the impoverished civilians on the street looked up at the giant TV in rapt attention. They all seemed to buy that the scene in front of them was completely true.


    Tapping a nearby laborer on the shoulder, I asked, ¡°Where is Doctor Lazarus attacking?¡±


    With an annoyed look, the man said, ¡°Weren¡¯t you listening? Pacific City?¡±


    ¡°And where is that?¡± I asked with the friendliest smile I could muster.


    ¡°What are you, an idiot? It¡¯s in Cascadia, of course.¡±


    Cascadia? That definitely wasn¡¯t a country, but I did recall that the region around northern California, Oregon, and Washington was sometimes called Cascadia. I had many more questions, but I would have to find a more patient teacher to ask.


    From the side of the TV, a helicopter appeared. The helicopter looked like a miniscule gnat next to the giant mech, but it grew in size as it flew over the reporter and his cameraman. As it flew overhead, something fell out of the helicopter and crashed into the ground a few hundred feet away from the reporter.


    ¡°Unless my eyes are playing tricks on me, I believe that the government has deployed him to fight against Doctor Lazarus!¡± The reporter spoke with naked excitement as the camera zoomed in on the person who had fallen out of the helicopter.


    A man stepped out of the smoke cloud caused by the fall. He was a large man with a mane of red hair and a long braided beard. He wore thick fur clothing, and he held a long two-handed axe at his side.


    ¡°Yes! It¡¯s really him, Ragnar the King of Vikings!¡± From the reporter¡¯s tone of voice, he was clearly a fan. Ragnar must have been a big deal, but I doubted that he would be enough against Doctor Lazarus¡¯s mech.

 Chapter 2 - [The King of Vikings]

    The news feed was temporarily replaced by a still image of Ragnar the Viking King surrounded by black text on a blue background and a six-sided graph. The image reminded me of an athlete¡¯s stats that ESPN would occasionally show during a game.


    Ragnar the Viking King


    Level 3 Body Enhancement


    Combat Rating: A+


    Classification: Hero


    Power: S


    Speed: S


    Range: C


    Durability: S


    Precision: A


    Potential: A


    ¡°We already know Ragnar¡¯s stats. They¡¯re just trying to pad time,¡± one of the nearby laborers complained.


    The stat card only appeared for a moment before being replaced by a picture of a middle-aged man in a lab coat. The picture was clearly a mug shot, and the man had a noticeable black eye. It took me a moment to realize I was looking at Doctor Lazarus¡¯s stat card. Unlike Ragnar¡¯s stat card, the one for Lazarus was transcribed on a red background.


    Doctor Lazarus


    Level 2 Genius


    Combat Rating: A-C


    Classification: Villain


    Power: E


    Speed: E


    Range: E


    Durability: E


    Precision: A


    Potential: S


    ¡°Why do they even show the hexagram for Geniuses? They¡¯re all the same,¡± the same laborer as earlier muttered.


    A man standing next to the laborer said in a helpful tone of voice, ¡°Maybe they do it to let the Heroes know how much they have to hold back?¡±


    ¡°Shut up, Frank. It was a rhetorical question.¡±


    When the screen switched back to the news feed, Ragnar stood a few feet away from the camera. I couldn¡¯t tell if he had approached the reporter or if the reporter had approached him.


    ¡°Do you have anything to tell our viewers, Ragnar?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Ragnar said, and I was surprised to notice that he had no accent. He grabbed the microphone out of the reporter¡¯s hand like a professional wrestler. ¡°To those of you who have ever considered attacking the innocent people of this continent, let this fight serve as a warning.¡±


    As Ragnar spoke, the gargantuan mech in the background slowly turned as if drawn by the sound of his declaration. Somehow, the mech seemed to smile as it saw Ragnar standing there next to the reporter.


    A loud, mechanically-enhanced voice resounded through the city as Doctor Lazarus said, ¡°I see you¡¯ve finally decided to show your face, my nemesis. Today is finally the day that Doctor Lazarus kills the foolish viking.¡±


    It was subtle, but I could have sworn that I saw Ragnar roll his eyes as he turned to face the giant robot. He cleared his voice and shouted at the top of his lungs, ¡°You¡¯ll never win, Lazarus! We have met in combat more than a dozen times, and you have never managed to harm me!¡±


    Seriously? Doctor Lazarus had been arrested more than ten times? How many times do you have to threaten a city before somebody just kills you in prison?


    ¡°Oh? Perhaps you¡¯re right, but this time is different. As you can see, the Mark VI is far stronger and larger than anything I have previously created. It is strong enough to crush you like a gnat.¡± One of the mech¡¯s house-sized hands began to rear back as Doctor Lazarus spoke.


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    At a volume too low for Doctor Lazarus to hear, Ragnar turned to the reporter and said, ¡°You should run.¡±


    ¡°We need to go!¡± the reporter screamed as one of the Mark VI¡¯s fists came careening in their direction.


    The news feed became shaky and hard to follow as the cameraman ran away from Ragnar, but the camera remained fixed on the red-haired viking. As the giant metal fist approached Ragnar, he slowly lifted his axe in two hands. The fist reached him, and he swung his axe in an explosion of vicious violence.


    Ragnar was pushed back a few feet, and his legs dug deep into the ground before he managed to halt the giant robot¡¯s momentum. As he was pushed back, shards of his broken axe flew backwards, and he was forced to stop the fist with his hands. The momentum was in Doctor Lazarus¡¯s favor, and it looked like he was about to overpower Ragnar.


    ¡°No!¡± Somebody in the crowd around me shouted in despair.


    ¡°What just happened?¡± I asked the gruff laborer beside me.


    ¡°Ragnar¡¯s axe was broken. Doctor Lazarus has never managed to do that before.¡±


    My breath caught in my throat. Was I about to watch a man die on live TV?


    Ragnar¡¯s face scrunched up in effort as he lifted his legs out of the cracked concrete. He took a step forward, and then another step. Miraculously, the miniscule man was able to push back the gargantuan mech. The King of Vikings adjusted his grip and began to squeeze the hardened steel fist. His mouth twisted into a smile as the metal twisted and crumpled between his hands.


    ¡°Your machine is still too weak, Lazarus!¡± Ragnar shouted.


    Everyone in the crowd erupted into a chorus of relieved cheering. The energy was infectious, and I couldn¡¯t stop myself from shouting, ¡°Get him!¡±


    With a burst of steam, the mech¡¯s arm detached from its main body. It moved to grab at Ragnar with its undamaged arm, but it didn¡¯t manage to reach in time. Ragnar lifted the discarded arm and swung it at the mech like a baseball player swinging a bat. There was a resounding crash of crumpling metal, and the mech fell onto its side.


    Before the mech could stand, Ragnar fell upon it like a Carthaginian soldier at Cannae. He wrenched the mech¡¯s limbs from its body before tearing into its giant metal chest. Oil spilled from punctured tanks and severed tubes like blood from a large animal.


    The reporter and cameraman slowly approached the disabled mech as Ragnar tore Doctor Lazarus out of the machine. The viking held the deranged scientist by the lapels of his lab coat, and Lazarus began to laugh.


    ¡°I almost got you that time! Next time, I¡¯ll¡­¡±


    ¡°Just shut up,¡± Ragnar said, though his voice had a very different quality. The larger-than-life tone was gone, and he almost sounded like a normal person. He must have assumed that the reporter ran away, and he was no longer on camera. ¡°I thought you were getting better, but then you go and pull this shit. I mean, Christ, they just moved you to a red threat rating. Do you know what that means?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m wanted dead or alive,¡± Lazarus said with a smile as if the idea was appealing to him.


    ¡°It means most Heroes wouldn¡¯t bother taking you in alive,¡± Ragnar said, shaking Lazarus to get his point across. ¡°If they move you to a black threat rating, I wouldn¡¯t have a choice. I¡¯d have to kill you.¡±


    ¡°Next time, you won¡¯t have the chance.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re sick!¡±


    ¡°Oh, I am sick, just like all super-villains!¡±


    ¡°No, I mean you¡¯re mentally unwell! You keep having these episodes, but you need to¡­¡±


    The feed was cut and replaced with a placeholder screen that reminded me of the old Indian-head test pattern screens that would appear when a broadcast had technical difficulties. In the center of the screen, the words ¡°PLEASE STAND BY¡± were transcribed in large white letters.


    The crowd groaned in annoyance. To my side, the chatty laborer said, ¡°I guess Ragnar won again. I just hate it when they try to make the Villains seem like people.¡±


    The crowd around me began to disperse, and the swiftly-moving mass of people forced me to leave the area. As I walked alongside the large group, I held my nose closed and tried to distract myself with thoughts of the fight.


    I had just witnessed a fight between a superhero and a supervillain. It was like a scene from a comic book, and the only thing that convinced me anything from the news feed was real was the conversation at the end. When he didn¡¯t think the cameras were rolling, Ragnar seemed to be really worried about Doctor Lazarus. For just a few seconds, Ragnar seemed like a real person to me.


    That moment of compassion was truly shocking. Even behind the scenes, Ragnar was an actual hero who cared for both the civilians and villains of Pacific City. Decades of genre deconstruction and the cynical reality of modern events had made it hard for me to believe that a true hero could actually exist.


    I felt an unexpected emotion swelling in my chest; it was an emotion that I didn¡¯t think I was still capable of feeling: inspiration. That news feed had inspired me, and there was nothing I wanted more in that moment than to embody those heroic ideals.


    As I walked, I heard something on the edge of my hearing. About a city block away, an alarm was blaring. I could see the periodic red flashes of light from an alarm that was going off just out of sight.


    My lips curled into a smile as I realized that I wouldn¡¯t have to wait long to act upon the positive feelings roiling in my chest. I placed my motorcycle helmet over my head and ran at full speed toward the alarm.

 Chapter 3 - [New Kinsington]

    When I reached the source of the alarm, I saw four men with ski masks and submachine guns fleeing from a bank carrying heavy duffel bags laden with money. Well, the building they fled from was too small to be a bank, and I didn¡¯t actually know what was inside of the duffel bags. The sign above the door read, ¡°New Kinsington First Credit Union.¡± It was a kind of bank, I guess.


    I shook my head, clearing my mind of those unnecessary details. They were bank robbers, and I had superpowers. It was a simple set up to an act of heroism, and I shouldn¡¯t get bogged down in the details.


    ¡°Stop!¡± I shouted at the bank robbers.


    ¡°Oh shit!¡± One of them swore when he heard me. To my shock, all four of them stopped when they heard my command. They all pointed their guns in my direction, and I put up an interposing hand. Hopefully, that barrier would be enough to stop bullets.


    ¡°Who are you?¡± a bank robber asked, and there was noticeable fear in his voice.


    Why did it matter who I was? They seemed to be waiting for my answer before deciding whether they would run or fight.


    ¡°Uh¡­¡± I paused, trying to buy myself some time. Something told me that it would be weird for me to just tell them my name. I was supposed to be a superhero, and I would need a superhero name. ¡°I¡¯m a new superhero in this city.¡± I said the first name that came to my mind, ¡°You can call me Macro-Kinetic.¡±


    ¡°Good, he¡¯s just an idiot,¡± one of the robbers said, and my ears were filled with the harsh staccato of gunfire. Bullets struck the invisible barrier in front of me and crumpled into small brass disks. The sensation of barely-perceptible raindrops on my hand gently filtered into my mind. It felt like the barrier was an extension of my body, and the supersonic bullets barely registered on that extrasensory organ.


    ¡°Rude,¡± I said, though my voice couldn¡¯t be heard over the gunfire.


    I began to wonder how I would deal with the gunmen. I couldn¡¯t just grab them. They would pop like grapes. To be honest, I wasn¡¯t even confident that I could grab the guns from their hands without tearing their arms off. I was beginning to develop a sense for the strength of my telekinesis, and it really wasn¡¯t safe for human contact.


    By the time more than forty bullets bounced harmlessly against my telekinetic barrier, I had made a decision. I reached out with my mind and scooped up some of the ground on the other side of the gunmen.


    A deep trough was dug into the ground, completely destroying several lanes of road. Like a child playing with sand, I created a twenty-foot wall to block the criminals from retreating any further using the dug-up dirt and asphalt. I was grateful for the motorcycle helmet, since the criminals couldn¡¯t see the grimace on my face.


    ¡°Shit! He¡¯s a Level 3! Run!¡±


    The robbers screamed in fear and began to scatter in different directions. At that point, I figured that I was in for a penny and in for a pound, so I tore two more holes in the ground and built two more walls. This sudden unplanned excavation completely blocked off the six-lane road we were standing near, but I figured I could just come back and fix it later. As far as I was concerned, controlling the dangerous gunmen and returning the stolen money was more important than some minor infrastructure damage.


    I took a few slow steps toward the gunmen. If they wanted to run, they would have to come closer to me, and that didn¡¯t seem very appealing to them. The criminals had retreated as far from me as they could, and they cowered in fear as I approached.


    ¡°Guns and money down, please,¡± I commanded. ¡°Otherwise, I¡¯ll have to take them by force.¡± I wiggled my gloved hands threateningly, and the four men willingly disarmed.


    ¡°Good,¡± I said with a smile. ¡°I see that we haven¡¯t forgotten our manners.¡±


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    ¡°What now?¡± asked one of the criminals. ¡°What are you going to do to us?¡±


    I sat down on a concrete divider that had previously blocked the sidewalk from the road and said, ¡°Now we¡¯re going to wait for the cops to get here.¡±


    ¡°Why? Can¡¯t you do it?¡±


    ¡°Like I said, I just got here. I¡¯m not integrated into whatever system this city uses for law enforcement. I guess you can call this a citizen¡¯s arrest.¡±


    One of the gunmen - the leader by my estimation - regained some of his courage and pointed a finger at me. In an accusatory tone, he said, ¡°Haven¡¯t you ever heard of ¡®escalation of force?¡¯ Level 3s aren¡¯t supposed to stop normal crimes. Aren¡¯t you guys busy with other shit!?¡±


    ¡°Well, I¡¯m not.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± one of the other men - a natural born minion - agreed. ¡°We¡¯re totally gonna get - uh - a mistrial, right? They can¡¯t prosecute us if they sent the wrong kind of cop, right?¡±


    I didn¡¯t know anything about this world¡¯s legal system, but I could tell he was lying. I had known enough criminals to know that all of them - no matter how guilty - were convinced of their own innocence. Christ, I hated them all.


    ¡°Uh huh,¡± I said in a noncommittal tone. I reached out to a nearby manhole cover and lifted it into the air. Mentally, I gripped the slab of metal between my thumb and forefinger while I used my other hand to spin it like a fidget spinner. It took a few tries, but I was able to get the pressure right after a few seconds. Within moments, the floating manhole cover was spinning through the air.


    ¡°Hey, uh, that¡¯s not necessary,¡± the leader said in a tone that was much more respectful than it had been a moment before.


    ¡°What¡¯s not necessary?¡± I asked, playing dumb as the manhole cover picked up speed. It spun like a buzz saw, and I figured it must have been spinning at more than a thousand rpm.


    ¡°Our threat ratings are blue, you know?¡± the leader asked, his breath quickened by fear.


    ¡°What does that mean?¡±


    ¡°You really don¡¯t know?¡±


    ¡°Humor me.¡±


    ¡°That means you¡¯re not allowed to kill us unless we¡¯re threatening your life. We-we¡¯re not threatening anybody.¡±


    ¡°Not right now.¡±


    Look at how much power you hold. You could kill anyone in the world with that projectile.


    Great. The voice was back. I did as the voice suggested, and I looked over at the spinning manhole cover. It was a blur of motion, buzzing with lethal intent. With just a flick of the wrist, I could send the thing careening down the road. If the manhole cover touched the ground, I knew it would fly off into space at more than a thousand miles per hour.


    Do it. Throw the projectile. Kill those sinners. Their destroyed organs and charnel remains would be quite entertaining to witness.


    Obviously, I wasn¡¯t going to do that. Yet, I couldn¡¯t keep the image of the manhole cover destroying one of the criminal¡¯s bodies out of my mind. The voice was right. It would be quite satisfying, like watching a hydraulic press destroy a piece of ripe fruit.


    Almost absent-mindedly, I lightly increased the pressure holding the spinning manhole cover in place, and it spun to a stop after a few seconds. The sound of police sirens grew louder in the background ambience, and I dropped the smoking manhole cover to the ground.


    ¡°Here they come,¡± I said.


    Several of the robbers let out relieved sighs as two police officers - a man and a woman - exited their police car and approached the scene. The male police officer looked up at the giant walls of asphalt and dirt before asking, ¡°What the Hell happened here?¡±


    Allowing some pride to enter my voice, I answered. ¡°These men tried to rob a bank, and I stopped them.¡±


    ¡°It was a credit union,¡± the leader said.


    ¡°Shut up,¡± I said, and the leader stepped back in fear.


    ¡°You¡¯re all under arrest,¡± the male police officer called out as he examined the scene.


    ¡°Excellent,¡± I said with a smile. ¡°I¡¯m willing to testify as long as I can do it under an alias. I need to keep my secret identity under wraps. Make sure to take my name down as Macro-Kinetic.¡±


    ¡°Did you do this?¡± The cop pointed to the destroyed six-lane road.


    Slowly, I turned around and surveyed the destruction I had wrought. I must have cut a sewer line, because the deep trenches I had dug into the ground were starting to fill with tepid water. Traffic for as far as I could see had slowed to a standstill, and a crowd of nearly a hundred people had gathered around to watch what had happened.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I sighed.

 Chapter 4 - [The Chateau]

    Next thing I knew, I was sitting in the back of a police van alongside the four bank robbers I had just helped to arrest. My hands were cuffed, and my motorcycle helmet was gone. They were normal handcuffs, however, and I could have escaped from the police van with minimal effort. I had committed myself to the path of the Hero, and it wouldn¡¯t be very heroic for me to escape from police custody.


    The robbers were terrified of me, so I got half of the van to myself. There was a silver lining, somewhat. Eventually, the van began moving forward, and I could spot two police officers in the front of the van. Their uniforms were more militaristic, so I assumed they outranked the police officers we had met previously. The side of the van and the uniforms they wore had the letters ¡°KSF¡± inscribed.


    ¡°Excuse me, officers?¡± I called out in the most polite voice I could muster.


    ¡°What do you want?¡± one of the SWAT guys responded in a gruff voice.


    ¡°I have a lotta questions. Ya see, my memory isn¡¯t too hot. I think I bumped my head, or something, and I don¡¯t remember much.¡±


    ¡°Let me guess, you conveniently forgot about that crime you just committed due to the terrible beating you received at the hands of the KCD.¡±


    I paused to consider if that was a threat. Neither I nor the robbers had been manhandled at any point during the arrest. After a few seconds, I came to the conclusion that he was just complaining about false accusations of police brutality. Was that really a big problem in this world? Eh, whatever. I didn¡¯t really care.


    ¡°No, I remember the crime I just committed quite well. I¡¯m a bit fuzzy on everything before that. I¡¯d rather ask you guys these questions instead of the criminals I¡¯ll probably be hanging around for the next few days.¡±


    ¡°Stop being a¡­¡±


    The SWAT guy in the passenger seat spoke up, cutting off the man in the driver¡¯s seat. ¡°Come on, Hotchkiss. We¡¯ve got some time to kill before we reach lockup. You know, due to the traffic.¡±


    The statement was directed at me, I could tell. Traffic throughout the city was hellish, and the clear cause of that congestion was due to the massive clot I had just placed in the center of the city¡¯s heart.


    ¡°Sorry about that,¡± I muttered.


    ¡°You couldn¡¯t have left a single lane unblocked, huh?¡± Hotchkiss grumbled.


    ¡°Can I ask my questions?¡±


    ¡°Sure, whatever.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s a Level 3?¡±


    ¡°Jesus, kid,¡± Hotchkiss said, letting out a bark of laughter. ¡°You really don¡¯t remember anything! Level 3s are, you know, like Ragnar or Kingfisher or Calypso.¡±


    The other SWAT guy cut in. ¡°Don¡¯t forget about Templar.¡±


    ¡°Oh, yeah. There¡¯s also Seraph and Akuma, though they¡¯re listed as Level 2+ on their official stat cards.¡±


    ¡°Guys, guys. This isn¡¯t really helping me. What is the difference between a Level 2 and a Level 3? How do these guys,¡± I pointed to the robbers, ¡°know I¡¯m a Level 3?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re probably just confused. There are no Level 3 Telekinetics.¡±


    The leader of the criminals said, ¡°He¡¯s a Level 3, I swear. He barely put any effort into it when he destroyed the road.¡±


    ¡°Shut up!¡± Hotchkiss shouted at the criminal. ¡°Getting back to the question, Level 1 powers are basically worthless, like lifting a quarter with your mind or being 10% luckier than the average human. Level 2 powers are actually useful, and most Enhanced are here. Level 3s, on the other hand, are ten times stronger than Level 2s. Calypso, for example, could freeze an entire city if she wanted. Luckily for us, she¡¯s a Hero.¡±


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    ¡°Luckily,¡± I muttered.


    ¡°Yeah. Basically, an Enhanced Human¡¯s Level becomes obvious whenever the Enhanced Human uses their power. You, Mr. Macro-Kinetic, are probably a Level 2 Telekinetic. There are plenty of those in the world.¡±


    ¡°But-,¡± the robbers¡¯ leader tried to say.


    ¡°These guys are just stupid,¡± Hotchkiss cut the criminal off. ¡°I¡¯ve heard plenty of tales of Telekinetics lifting cars or tearing up roads.¡±


    After a beat of silence, I said, ¡°Thank you for the information, officer.¡±


    The SWAT guy in the passenger seat chuckled mirthfully. ¡°A respectful criminal in our paddywagon? Cherish this, Hotchkiss. This is a rare event.¡±


    ¡°One more question, if you don¡¯t mind,¡± I said. Not sensing any resistance, I asked. ¡°Where are we?¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡± Hotchkiss grunted.


    ¡°What¡¯s the name of this city?¡±


    I thought back to the letters written on the side of the police cars I saw earlier. The letters CPD for Chicago Police Department were written on Chicago police cars, but the police cars I saw carried the letters NKPD.


    With suspicion in his eyes, Hotchkiss said, ¡°We¡¯re in the city of New Kingston, capital of the nation of Ontario.¡±


    My head spun, and a deep sense of alienation settled into my bones. Something was very wrong with this world.


    ¡°This city used to be called Chicago, right?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I guess, but Chicago was destroyed back in the ¡®70s, right?¡± Hotchkiss said, clearly unsure of the veracity of his statement.


    ¡°¡®81.¡±


    ¡°Right, it was destroyed back in 1981.¡±


    ¡°How?¡±


    ¡°A buncha things, kid. I¡¯m not really qualified to give a good answer, but the long and the short of it is that Enhanced Humans did it.¡±


    ¡°To be fair,¡± the passenger said, ¡°Enhanced Humans rebuilt it, as well.¡±


    ¡°Whatever,¡± Hotchkiss muttered. ¡°They¡¯re in charge now. Sebastian Sutton has been the governor of this city since the early nineties. You¡¯d think he¡¯d get bored of being in charge eventually.¡±


    ¡°Sebastian Sutton is an Enhanced Human?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Hotchkiss said. ¡°Anyway, we¡¯re at the station. Get out.¡±


    The car had parked inside of something that looked like a parking garage to me. We must have been underneath some kind of police headquarters.


    I stepped out of the police van as Hotchkiss and the other guy with the letters KSF written on his armor opened the doors in the back.


    Hours later, I was dressed in an orange jumpsuit and being escorted into a cell on the lowest level of a prison built on an island about a mile into Lake Michigan. A blinking collar had been fastened around my neck, and my hands and feet were shackled together. I sighed at the thought of being separated from my phone and MP3 player as the prison guard led me through a large cell block.


    ¡°I am a hero, and heroes follow the law,¡± I repeated to myself for the seventh time that day.


    The government of New Kinsington was seriously starting to get under my skin. No wonder the world had a major super-villain problem. If I had just ignored the orders of the police officers, I would have been flying around the city at that moment, testing the limits of my new powers in peace.


    I stepped into a cell, and the guard unshackled me through two small holes built into the door. As the guard turned and walked away from me, I couldn¡¯t stop myself from venting some of my frustration.


    ¡°I¡¯m being very considerate by not just breaking out, you know!¡±


    The guard must have heard me, but he did not react. All he did was turn over his shoulder and say, ¡°Welcome to the Chateau.¡±


    I rolled my eyes at the name as I stopped to examine my cell. Why did all supervillain prisons have ironic names?


    A bunk bed was nailed to the wall on one side of the cell, and an older man with graying hair sat on the lower bunk. He didn¡¯t immediately notice my entrance, since he was too busy staring at a small coin that was lying on top of his bed. The man¡¯s face scrunched up in effort, and the coin slowly lifted up in the air.


    ¡°You¡¯re a telekinetic, too?¡± I asked.


    The coin fell back onto the thin mattress as the man¡¯s focus was broken. He looked up to me and smiled.


    ¡°Yeah, welcome to the telekinetic cell. I hope you last longer than my last cellmate. I¡¯m Ryan, a Level 1 telekinetic.¡±


    I paused for a second, considering if I should tell him my name. ¡°I¡¯m Kevin. I¡¯m a Level 2, I guess.¡±


    ¡°You guess?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what it says on my papers.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡±


    Ryan tossed me a small metal object, and I caught it instinctually. Looking at the object clasped in my palm, I realized it was a roll of quarters.


    ¡°What¡¯s this for?¡± I asked.


    ¡°They¡¯re for practice. Apparently, it¡¯s bad for you to not use your power for long periods. The voice gets a bit¡­ insistent.¡± Ryan pointed to his head as if his meaning was obvious.


    I would have asked Ryan about the voice, but I didn¡¯t want to project weakness on my first day in a maximum security prison. Instead, I jumped onto the top bunk and began fiddling with the plastic wrapper holding the stack of quarters. Practice would be good for me.

 Chapter 5 - [Sparrow]

    Though I didn¡¯t know it at the time, I had already caught the attention of some very powerful individuals high up in the food chain. As I languished in the top bunk of a small cell, a woman stepped out of her custom-made aircraft parked on a helipad near the Chateau¡¯s entrance. She double-checked a hand-held device as she stepped into the prison¡¯s upper-level.


    Without looking up, she pressed a small plastic card to a scanner, and a side entrance to the prison opened up with a quiet beep. After walking a few feet into the administrative area of the Chateau, she walked up to a woman working behind a desk protected by thick security glass.


    ¡°Hey, Sparrow. Are you here for a prisoner?¡± the receptionist said with a smile and a wave.


    For a female superhero, Sparrow¡¯s costume was very loose and utilitarian. She looked more like a soldier than the typical Hero like Seraph or Calypso. Her head was covered by a low hood and a thick bandana pulled over her face. Under her jacket, she wore fatigues that were lined with pouches and holsters, all of which held small devices or weapons for the various problems that a Hero could expect to face on the job.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Sparrow answered. ¡°There¡¯s a telekinetic that just got arrested for destruction of property. Apparently, he calls himself ¡®Macro-Kinetic.¡¯ I need to get him out today.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but you don¡¯t have the clearance for that,¡± the receptionist said with a frown.


    ¡°Of course, I understand. This is an order from Kingfisher himself. The telekinetic will be released under the Boss¡¯s supervision.¡± Sparrow moved to show the document on her screen to the receptionist. ¡°You¡¯ll find the confirmation here.¡±


    ¡°I see, just let me get my reading glasses.¡±


    As the receptionist leaned down to retrieve a set of thick bifocals, the lights flickered and shut off. Sparrow jerked to the side as the receiver in her ear began blasting a loud, high-pitched note. She threw the receiver to the ground and crushed it beneath her heel.


    After a few seconds of darkness, the light returned. Sparrow took inventory of her devices and soon found that everything she carried that held a battery charge was completely depleted. Her tablet couldn¡¯t be turned on, and the arc thrower she carried on her hip was completely out of energy.


    Fear settled into Sparrow¡¯s stomach as she realized that her arc thrower was inoperable. That weapon was powered by zero-point energy; it should have taken decades for it to run out of charge.


    ¡°What just happened?¡± the receptionist asked, looking at Sparrow as if she had any idea what was going on.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Sparrow answered truthfully. ¡°Something just sucked the electric charge out of the air. All of my wireless devices are out of charge. That should be impossible.¡±


    The lights began to flash red, and a quiet but persistent alarm began to sound in the background.


    With dawning terror on her face, the receptionist said, ¡°That must mean¡­ the bomb collars¡­¡±


    Sparrow had to stop herself from swearing. Every Enhanced prisoner at the Chateau wore a bomb collar on their neck. That was the only way they could cover all externalities and prevent one criminal with an aberrant power from breaking out all of the other prisoners.


    Sparrow knew how the bomb collars worked. She had designed them, after all. The trigger mechanism was powered by a rechargeable lithium battery, which would begin to beep loudly when out of power. This was meant to inform the guards that one of the collars was uncharged. If every bomb collar ran out of charge simultaneously, the collars¡¯ alarms would inform the prisoners that now was the time to break out.


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    ¡°I need to get back to the Albatross,¡± Sparrow said as she took several quick steps toward the exit.


    ¡°We¡¯re in lockdown,¡± the receptionist said. ¡°The doors are locked. None of us can get out until the lockdown is over.¡±


    Sparrow reached the exit, and she began pushing against the door.


    ¡°Let me guess, the doors are designed to handle a Level 2¡¯s strength.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± the receptionist said with a shaking voice.


    As Sparrow looked out through the small plexiglass window in the door, she saw the gargantuan head of something peeking out of the water. The head alone was the size of a building, and it must have been standing in water that was several hundred feet deep. The creature¡¯s head was reptilian, and it glowed faintly with yellow energy. Streaks of that same yellow energy coursed in its direction, and Sparrow was sure that creature was the cause of the electrical outage.


    ¡°Mary,¡± Sparrow said to the receptionist, and she jumped at the sound of her own name. Never in a million years would she have thought that a Hero would remember her name. ¡°Kingfisher believes that prisoner is a Level 3 telekinetic. We need to break him out now!¡±


    ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am. I¡¯ll do what I can, but some of the other wardens will try to stop you.¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have it any other way,¡± Sparrow said with a chuckle. ¡°This will be my third time going rogue. I just hope the tribunal doesn¡¯t take as long this time.¡±


    Back on the top bunk, I was trying to levitate a quarter without bending it or squeezing it until it turned into a liquid. On the third try, I realized that I could keep it levitated in the air if I just balanced it on the palm of my hand.


    ¡°So, what are you in for?¡± I asked after thirty minutes of largely unhelpful practice.


    ¡°You first,¡± Ryan said.


    ¡°Property damage and felony disturbance of the peace.¡±


    Ryan let out a low whistle. ¡°Oh, my. They¡¯ve got you on the supervillain track.¡±


    ¡°Now you.¡±


    ¡°Right now, I¡¯m in for my fourth DUI. For the first few, they usually let you off with a slap on the wrist. When it becomes a habit, they start locking you up.¡±


    ¡°DUI!? Really!? You¡¯re in super-Guantanamo for drunk driving!?¡±


    ¡°Yeah?¡± Ryan said it was obvious. ¡°When New Kinsington needs to keep Enhanced Humans imprisoned, they put us in here. Even the most murderous Mundane Human would be stopped by steel walls and a bunch of guards with assault rifles. You or I could break out of any normal prison if we wanted. It¡¯s not about the severity of the crime but rather the type of person imprisoned.¡±


    ¡°Huh, I hadn¡¯t thought of it that way. What¡¯s your day job, Ryan?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m a professor of rhetoric.¡±


    ¡°That sounds about right.¡±


    Suddenly, the lights shut off for several seconds. I barely had enough time to jump out of my bed before the lights turned back on. The collars on Ryan and my necks began beeping, and I suddenly became very concerned.


    ¡°Why are our collars beeping?¡± I asked.


    ¡°The trigger mechanism for our bomb collars just ran out of charge.¡± Ryan sounded more concerned than heartened by this fact.


    ¡°Bomb collars!? What!?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Ryan said, ignoring my concern. ¡°That means there¡¯s about to be a prison riot.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re the only thing keeping us in our cells.¡±


    Unfortunately, Ryan was completely right. The prisoners on our cell block began shouting in raucous excitement, and the unmistakable sound of cell doors flying open rang out moments later.

 Chapter 6 - [Shaman]

    ¡°Prison break, great,¡± I muttered.


    ¡°What are you gonna do?¡± Ryan asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m supposed to be a hero,¡± I reminded myself. ¡°I need to stop the prison break.¡±


    Within seconds of the alarm sounding, another prisoner stood in front of my prison cell. He was a large black man with a scar bisecting his left eyebrow, and he pressed his hands against the bars.


    ¡°Hey there, spoon-benders. Are you gonna get in on this?¡±


    ¡°No thanks, Shaman. I¡¯m perfectly comfortable where I¡¯m sitting,¡± Ryan said with a nervous smile.


    ¡°That wasn¡¯t a question, Lockpick,¡± Shaman said to Ryan. The man unlocked our cell with a key, and I wondered how he had managed to acquire one. ¡°We¡¯re all in this together now. They¡¯re gonna kill you too if things go south.¡±


    Shaman pressed open the cell door before slamming his fist into the locking mechanism. After three powerful blows, the metal bar that attached to the lock was bent at a severe angle, preventing the door from ever closing again.


    ¡°Come on,¡± Shaman said, walking away and leaving the door to my prison cell ajar.


    As Shaman walked away, I began considering my options. Half a dozen prisoners had entered the center of the cell block, and all of them had unknown superpowers. Theoretically, I could just start throwing chunks of concrete at them, but one of them might be able to counter them. Considering this, I decided to bide my time until I figured out what all of their powers were.


    ¡°Why did he call you Lockpick?¡± I asked after a few seconds of silence passed.


    ¡°Huh? Oh, it¡¯s a nickname him and the other Legion members came up with when I mentioned that the only real use my power has is lockpicking.¡±


    Ryan sighed before continuing to speak. ¡°I guess we have no choice. We should probably remove our collars in case they figure out how to turn them back on.¡±


    Almost casually, Ryan reached up to his neck and tore his collar in half. The steel of the collar warped and shattered as the muscles in his arms flexed powerfully.


    ¡°Jesus! You can do that!?¡± I shouted in surprise.


    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m a mutant. Aren¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Uh, I don¡¯t know. I can¡¯t remember anything earlier than noon today.¡±


    ¡°Wow, that¡¯s pretty bad but not unheard of among Enhanced Humans. Kingfisher and Calypso claim to have forgotten most of their childhoods.¡±


    I wondered if they were lying too. The truth, that I was from a world where superpowers only existed in fiction, would be far harder to explain.


    Ryan walked over and began helping me remove my collar. As we fiddled with the beeping device, he said, ¡°Enhanced Humans is a catch-all term for humans with powers, but ninety percent of them are mutants, people who are born with their powers. Mutants can awaken to their power at any point in life, and the only commonality between mutants is that they are all much stronger, faster, and more durable than the average human.¡±


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    Straining with effort, I said, ¡°If I were a mutant, I¡¯d be able to tear this collar off with my bare hands, right?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Ryan confirmed. ¡°You must have acquired your power some time after birth.¡±


    I tried to reach for the bomb collar with my power, but my conjured hand fizzled before it could get close to my neck.


    ¡°Shit!¡± I swore. ¡°Why can¡¯t I get it off with telekinesis?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the Mandeville Limit,¡± Ryan said like he was explaining a simple topic to a child. ¡°We can¡¯t use our powers within ten centimeters of a human cell.¡±


    ¡°Hmm,¡± I muttered. My world had a similar concept, though it was called something different. That would prevent me from using my power in an especially grotesque way, but it didn¡¯t limit my lethality considering the extreme momentum I could build up with inanimate objects.


    With the sound of tearing metal, my collar came undone at the clasp. When the two crescent moon shackles came far enough away from my flesh, my telekinesis activated automatically. In a blur of violent movement, the two shackles were thrown and flattened against the wall at blinding speed.


    ¡°Okay,¡± I said, breathing heavily. ¡°Let¡¯s go see what the others are planning.¡±


    As Ryan and I approached the small group of prisoners standing in the center of the cell block, Shaman said, ¡°Hey, kines. I see that you¡¯ve decided to join the Legion¡¯s righteous mission of liberation. This is Forgemaster, Speaker, Salieri, Ganymede, and Falcon.¡±


    Including Ryan and me, eight prisoners had left their cells. A few of the prisoners had stayed in their cells, though most stood in the center of the block. The man introduced as Salieri was furiously drawing some kind of technical diagram on a large piece of paper, and Forgemaster glared at Shaman as he spoke.


    ¡°Oy, Shaman,¡± Forgemaster interjected angrily, ¡°most of us aren¡¯t on the Legion of Evil¡¯s side. We just want to break out of here.¡±


    The Legion of Evil? Oh my God.


    ¡°Right, you all have the right to be wrong,¡± Shaman said. ¡°Either way, this is Lockpick and the new guy.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m Macro-Kinetic,¡± I said, introducing myself. ¡°Not to sound like an idiot, but what¡¯s the Legion of Evil?¡± I absolutely had to learn about the Legion of Evil as soon as possible. Any organization that could include the word ¡°evil¡± in its name and still have members deserved to be studied.


    The other prisoners groaned loudly, and Shaman¡¯s eyes lit up. ¡°I¡¯m glad you asked. We are an organization dedicated to the end of anti-mutant repression. Our goal is true equality between the mundane and the enhanced. Imagine a world of true meritocracy, where the most deserving always win.¡±


    ¡°Uh huh,¡± I said noncommittally. ¡°But why the word ¡®evil?¡¯ Aren¡¯t you poisoning the well with that name?¡±


    ¡°¡®Evil¡¯ just means ¡®self-interested,¡¯ you see? Is it not the right of every man to be self-interested? The Legion of Evil believes that we should not be expected to use our powers for others. Rather, we should only be obligated to use our powers for ourselves.¡±


    ¡°When you put it that way¡­¡± I muttered.


    ¡°I¡¯m done,¡± Salieri said, finally looking up from his diagram.


    The prisoners moved to gather around the diagram Salieri had just finished drawing, and I followed them. I soon realized that the drawing was a perfect map of the Chateau, and our present location was marked with a large X.


    ¡°Is that right, Salieri?¡± Shaman asked. ¡°Are we really underwater?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Salieri, a nervous teenager, said. ¡°The prison continues above our heads for about ten meters. Above that is more than fifty meters of water.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a Hell of a swim,¡± Forgemaster said.


    ¡°We need to go for the elevators,¡± Shaman said authoritatively.


    ¡°Good luck,¡± Ryan said derisively. He pointed over to the only entrance to the cell block. For the first time, I noticed that four machine guns were pointed at the entrance. ¡°How are we supposed to get out?¡±

 Chapter 7 - [Ganymede]

    ¡°Well,¡± Shaman said with a smile, ¡°there are eight Enhanced Humans here. I¡¯m sure we can figure something out.¡±


    Seeing my opportunity, I said, ¡°I¡¯ve been meaning to ask, what powers do we have to work with here?¡±


    ¡°Ganymede, you go first,¡± Shaman commanded.


    ¡°Okay,¡± Ganymede said in an annoyed voice. Strangely, that prisoner was even younger than me. I would be surprised if he was older than twenty. ¡°Level 2 Fire Manipulation.¡± To punctuate his statement, Ganymede opened his palm, and a puff of fire appeared for a fraction of a second.


    ¡°We¡¯re in an enclosed area. If I overuse my flames, we could all die of smoke inhalation,¡± Ganymede explained.


    ¡°My power is Level 1 Mind Control,¡± Speaker, a small Mediterranean man with a sleazy smile, said. He gripped his voice box between his thumb and forefinger, saying, ¡°Lift your left arm.¡±


    With no hesitation, Shaman, Forgemaster, Salieri, and Ryan raised their left arms into the air. The two remaining prisoners and I remained completely unmoved.


    ¡°Asshole!¡± Forgemaster shouted.


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t work on everybody, apparently,¡± Ganymede mocked.


    Speaker¡¯s easy expression turned into a glare as he said, ¡°My power works on 99% of people. It¡¯s not my fault you guys are freaks.¡±


    In this circumstance, I was more than happy to be a freak.


    ¡°Genius, Level 2,¡± Salieri said quietly.


    That was the same power as Doctor Lazarus. I wondered if Geniuses tended more toward villainy than heroism.


    ¡°My power is Level 2 Iron Manipulation,¡± Forgemaster said. ¡°If something has iron in it, I can control it. I made the keys we used to break out.¡±


    ¡°And I can control ghosts,¡± Shaman said with obvious pride. ¡°My power can¡¯t be measured, so they never gave me a Level. Last up is you, new guy.¡±


    ¡°Hold on,¡± I said. ¡°Falcon and Ryan haven¡¯t explained their powers yet.¡±


    ¡°Eh, we all already know Lockpick¡¯s power, and Falcon¡¯s power won¡¯t help us break out of this prison.¡±


    ¡°Fine, Level 2 Telekinesis,¡± I lied. ¡°There¡¯s not really anything else to say.¡±


    ¡°Perfect,¡± Shaman said. ¡°Here¡¯s the plan, then. I¡¯ll draw the attention of the guns, and you¡¯ll take them out.¡±


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    ¡°Hold on,¡± I said, blinking.


    Ignoring me, Shaman continued talking, ¡°Those guns aren¡¯t protected by the Mandeville Limit. Any Level 2 telekinetic can tear them out of their sockets with a thought. You can do it, right? You weren¡¯t lying, were you?¡±


    I paused for a long second, glaring at Shaman. I still didn¡¯t know Falcon¡¯s power, and there was a chance that he posed a serious danger to me. Plus, Salieri¡¯s map gave me pause. I couldn¡¯t just tear my way out of the Chateau like I had originally planned. If I accidentally destroyed the wrong wall, everyone in this cell block could drown.


    What would happen if I stopped the prison break and then returned to my cell like a good inmate? Would they just let me out? Considering that I was put in a prison with a bomb around my neck because I tried to stop criminals, I seriously doubted that they would appreciate my vigilantism.


    I couldn¡¯t be a hero if I was stuck in prison for the next few months, so I altered my plan somewhat. I would wait until I was free from the Chateau before arresting the criminals. The police could arrest them while I flew away to freedom.


    ¡°Yeah, I can do that,¡± I said quietly.


    Our ragtag group of ne¡¯er-do-wells moved into position while Shaman sat cross-legged on the ground and clasped his hands together in prayer. He began to hum a single note, and ghostly apparitions began to appear out of thin air. While the rest of us hid in cover, the open area in the cell block slowly filled with dozens of shimmering humanoid figures. Most wore prison uniforms, and some wore the uniforms of prison wardens. Each ghost bore the evidence of a violent death.


    There was a thick red line twenty feet back from the cell block¡¯s exit. The specters resolved and gained physical form a moment before they began shambling toward the line of machine guns. A moment after one of the zombies stepped past the red line, a deafening chorus of gunfire filled the cell block.


    I peeked out of cover, standing well behind the red line, and saw that all four of the machine guns were firing. Stepping out of cover, I protected my body with one hand and used the other to strike the automated turrets. The gunfire was punctuated by four resounding booms as I easily flattened the turrets against the concrete on which they were mounted.


    When the ringing in my ears stopped, I could hear the sound of men cheering. A smile turned my mouth upward as the sound of approval hit my ears, and Forgemaster smacked my shoulder in excitement. The feeling of a room cheering for me made me happier than I would care to admit, and I was only able to wipe the smile off my face by reminding myself that they were all criminals.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go!¡± Ganymede shouted, and the prisoners rushed toward the exit.


    The exit was much heavier than the cell doors, and a heavy lock prevented entry. I didn¡¯t even slow my stride as I punched the four-ton door off its hinges with a giant invisible fist.


    ¡°Macro!¡± Forgemaster called out in celebration.


    The other prisoners began to chant my name like a group of football fans cheering for their favorite team, ¡°Macro! Macro! Macro! Macro!¡±


    Beyond the door, there was a thin hallway that took a harsh ninety-degree turn to the right after fifteen feet. Just as Ganymede stepped through the door into the bent hallway, a thick mist rained down from above.


    ¡°Mandeville Mist!¡± Salieri shouted. ¡°Get back!¡±


    Ganymede was not fast enough. He took a step back, and a machine gun popped out of a small hatch in the ceiling. With the efficiency of robotic automation, the gun began firing as soon as its barrel was aimed at the unsuspecting prisoner.


    I just had enough time to put up a barrier between Ganymede and the turret, but something was wrong. Usually, I felt a pressure in my hand when I projected a telekinetic hand outward. This time, that feeling wasn¡¯t present.


    A hail of bullets flew forward, ignoring my attempts to stop them. The bullets struck Ganymede¡¯s body, tearing through the fragile organs contained therein. I knew that, as soon as Ganymede fell, there was nothing stopping the bullets from hitting me.

 Chapter 8 - [The Legion of Evil]

    Ryan pulled me out of the bullets¡¯ path a moment before they hit me. I only survived because Ganymede¡¯s body was so sturdy, and it took almost two seconds for the flurry of gunfire to rip through his flesh.


    ¡°Fuck!¡± Forgemaster screamed as everyone dove for cover by the cell block¡¯s exit.


    ¡°What are we going to do now!?¡± Salieri shouted, almost on the edge of tears.


    I didn¡¯t comprehend any of their words. The sudden, jarring death of Ganymede had thrown my mind into action. There was no time to talk, only time to deal with the problem.


    Probing, my hand reached forward cautiously, and I could feel as it disapparated into nonexistence the moment it touched the mist. It felt just like when I tried to tear my collar off with telekinesis.


    With minimal resistance, one of the nearby cell doors was torn from its hinges. Without leaving cover, I threw the heavy metal door into the bent hallway. Where I was standing, I could see that the gun was no longer firing through the open doorway.


    I removed a quarter from my pocket and imagined an ethereal hand pinching the quarter between its thumb and middle finger as if it was about to flick the quarter. My own hand contorted into that same shape, and the quarter began floating in the air, vibrating with intense potential energy.


    Taking a chance, I stepped out of cover. The machine gun was pointed downward toward the bullet-riddled cell door. It seemed to sense me, and its barrel began to swivel upward as soon as I left cover.


    I flicked the quarter, and a crack rang out as it broke the sound barrier. The quarter - now a splattered lump of liquid metal - struck the machine gun, shattering its internal mechanisms instantly. A deep divot was dug out of the turret¡¯s metal housing, and a deep hole was dug into the concrete behind the gun.


    There was a long beat of silence while I sat in cover and looked to see if anything else was going to pop out.


    Through gritted teeth, Forgemaster said, ¡°Come on!¡±


    His legs wobbled noticeably as he stepped into the hallway. Once it seemed safe, the other prisoners entered the hallway, and I followed after them.


    Falcon was the most upset by Ganymede¡¯s death. ¡°Shit!¡± Falcon swore. ¡°He¡¯s always been such an idiot! I told him this would happen! I told him!¡±


    Awkwardly, Forgemaster said, ¡°Is there, uh, something you can do, Shaman?¡±


    ¡°I could make him into a pyromancer zombie once all his cells die,¡± Shaman said, a mirthless grin on his face.


    ¡°Shut the fuck up!¡± Falcon shouted at Shaman.


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    ¡°You knew him well?¡± Shaman asked, one eyebrow in the air.


    ¡°He- he was my brother,¡± Falcon said, trying to hold back the tears.


    ¡°Then he would want you to escape,¡± Shaman said, and there was no hint of deception in his voice. ¡°First, we¡¯ll escape, and then we can destroy the system that put us in this hole with bombs on our necks just because of the way we were born!¡±


    Shaman was making an uncomfortable amount of sense. A more inexperienced person would have been persuaded by that statement, but I knew that I was only seeing one side of the system. I would need to see more of the world before I decided who was good and who was evil.


    Forgemaster, Salieri, and Falcon nodded emphatically as Shaman spoke, and I knew the Brotherhood of Evil had just gained three more recruits. I didn¡¯t say anything to deny Shaman because, honestly, I was seriously considering changing sides as well.


    On the other side of the bent hallway was another locked door. After looking around for a few seconds, I realized that there was no way I could open it on my own. There was heavy mist on each side of that door, and I couldn¡¯t get a good shot on it from inside of the cell block.


    ¡°I can¡¯t open this one, guys,¡± I said, frustrated. That door annoyed me far more than it should have. I felt like a child who had, for the first time, found a shelf that was too high for him to reach.


    ¡°Let me try,¡± Ryan said, walking up to the heavy locked door. He placed his hand near the locking mechanism, and his expression tensed in concentration.


    ¡°How are you doing that?¡± I asked.


    ¡°There isn¡¯t any mist in the lock itself,¡± Ryan said with a smile.


    After a few seconds, a dull thunk echoed inside of the door, and Ryan said, ¡°Got it.¡±


    The door opened, and I followed Ryan out into a wider hallway with a much higher ceiling. At one end of the hallway, a long elevator shaft rose into the ceiling above, and a staircase beside it stood unguarded.


    To my shock, several guards were lying prone on the ground, groaning in pain or completely unconscious. Standing over these bodies was a woman wearing concealing clothing and wielding a metal baton.


    ¡°It¡¯s Sparrow,¡± Ryan said with worry in his voice.


    ¡°Who?¡± I asked.


    ¡°She¡¯s a Hero who works for New Kingsington.¡±


    I turned around and quickly took stock of my situation. Only Ryan and I had stepped out into the large hallway, and the rest would step out within seconds. If Shaman and the rest were to run into Sparrow, they would almost certainly fight, and either a win or a loss would be bad for me. Either I¡¯d be sent back to prison, or I¡¯d have to add ¡°maiming a superhero¡± to my ever-growing rap sheet.


    I took a step away from the door to free myself from the Mandeville Mist and took a quarter out of my pocket. I flicked the quarter at the door, and it slammed shut. Three more quarters slammed into the door, and the force caused a heat-weld to fuse the door and the wall together.


    ¡°Sorry, guys,¡± I said, and a part of me believed it.


    Shaman and the other prisoners attacked the sealed door and began shouting obscenities. I couldn¡¯t hear them as the female Hero approached me.


    ¡°Sparrow,¡± Ryan said uncomfortably, realizing he no longer had a choice to return to his cell. ¡°What brings you around these parts?¡±


    ¡°Are you Macro-Kinetic?¡± Sparrow asked me.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I said, subtly preparing for combat. One way or another, I wasn¡¯t going back to my cell.

 Chapter 9 - [Freedom]

    The female Hero twirled her metal tonfa twice before returning it to the loop on her hip. She held her palms out in a gesture of peace, and I allowed my muscles to relax.  Based on her body language, Sparrow didn¡¯t seem interested in attacking me immediately.


    ¡°I¡¯m here for you, Macro-Kinetic,¡± Sparrow said. ¡°Kingfisher saw the video of you arresting those bank robbers, and he wants you to work for him.¡±


    That was the third or fourth time that somebody had mentioned Kingfisher to me. I had only been on this planet for a few hours, and I was already very familiar with that name. I remembered seeing the words ¡°Kingfisher Industries¡± written on various pieces of technology when I entered the prison. The bomb collars, blast doors, and turrets all carried Kingfisher¡¯s symbol: a small bird with a sharp beak.


    ¡°I gotta know. Who¡¯s Kingfisher?¡± I asked.


    Though I couldn¡¯t see most of Sparrow¡¯s face, I could see a concerned look color her expression.


    ¡°He has amnesia,¡± Ryan explained.


    Sparrow paused before saying, ¡°Okay, Kingfisher is the leader of this country, though he¡¯s better known as Governor Sebastian Sutton. More significantly, he¡¯s also the only Level 3 Genius, which makes him the smartest man in the world by far.¡±


    In short, Kingfisher made the trap that killed Ganymede and almost killed me. This fact certainly did not fill my heart with goodwill toward Kingfisher. I know this feeling wasn¡¯t rational, but Ganymede died less than five minutes ago, and my breathing still had not stabilized from that brush with death. I didn¡¯t express my anger out loud, since Sparrow spoke of Kingfisher with reverence, and I wanted to prevent any friction between us.


    ¡°I understand,¡± I said, taking a second to focus on my breathing and limit the anger rising in my chest. ¡°Do you have a plan to get out of here?¡±


    You could kill her, you know? She¡¯s weak. It would be so easy.


    That voice was really starting to annoy me. Did all superheroes have little psychos in the back of their heads telling them to kill people?


    ¡°Of course,¡± Sparrow said, and I could hear the smile in her voice. ¡°I cleared a path back to the entrance. First, who are you?¡± She addressed this last question to Ryan.


    ¡°I¡¯m Ryan Kovacs,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m not a murderer or a rapist, if that¡¯s what you¡¯re asking. I was arrested for felony drunk driving.¡±


    ¡°Is that all you were¡­¡± Sparrow began.


    ¡°Can we just go before somebody else winds up dead?¡± I asked harshly, cutting her off. ¡°If you¡¯re breaking me out, you¡¯re breaking him out. Got it?¡±


    ¡°Someone died?¡± Sparrow asked, and the authentic concern in her voice quelled my anger somewhat.


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    ¡°A prisoner,¡± Ryan said.


    ¡°Does it matter? That just means this prison is operating correctly. Prisoners who break out are supposed to be killed, right?¡± I said.


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t originally that way,¡± Sparrow said.


    The three of us stepped into the elevator, and Sparrow used her tonfa to smash the external control panel before the doors closed. A few seconds of uncomfortable silence passed before I remembered the multitude of questions weighing on my psyche.


    ¡°What, exactly, is a Genius?¡± I asked.


    Sparrow paused for a moment, trying to simplify such a complicated topic into just a few words. ¡°A Genius is a type of mutant with heightened intelligence and a greater knowledge of the world. Since mutations manifest at the beginning of puberty, a lifetime of knowledge is forcefully funneled into a ten-or-thirteen-year-old¡¯s head whenever a Genius is born. Many are driven insane by the process. A Level 1 Genius acquires the general knowledge of a particularly educated adult, though a Level 2 Genius - like me - gains perfect knowledge of one particular field.¡±


    I wondered if that was the cause of Doctor Lazarus¡¯s madness. Had he been driven insane by his awakening?


    ¡°What about you? What specialized knowledge did you gain?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Electromagnetism,¡± Sparrow said with a smile, and I knew that she would launch into a multi-hour rant on the subject if I let her.


    We reached the top of the elevator shaft, and the doors opened. On the other side of the doors, a team of five men wearing tactical gear and wielding assault rifles stood at the ready. I jumped in surprise, taking an untrained fighting stance.


    The soldiers bearing the letters KSF on their chest plates seemed just as surprised as us. A few of the assault rifles were raised to low-ready before one of the men shouted, ¡°Hold fire! They¡¯re with Sparrow.¡±


    An acute sense of fear pressed down on my lungs, and I was breathing like I had just jogged several miles. The voices in my head were telling me that I had to kill them.


    It¡¯s a trap! They have spray bottles! If you don¡¯t kill them RIGHT NOW, they¡¯ll kill you!


    The little psycho was right. Each of the soldiers carried a small spray gun on his belt, and one of the soldiers held a water rifle that was attached to a large canister on his back. Those canisters were filled with Mandeville Mist, I knew. If they were able to release that mist into the air, I¡¯d have no chance.


    ¡°These two men are not a threat to the city,¡± Sparrow said diplomatically. ¡°You have my word as a Hero.¡±


    ¡°Sir, what are your orders?¡± asked the man with the water gun.


    ¡°Move on. We have bigger problems than two escaped convicts,¡± the leader of the soldiers said.


    We kept walking, unimpeded despite the presence of nearly a dozen armed men. Sparrow¡¯s word carried weight, it seemed. Ryan and I were able to pick up the possessions we had on us when we arrived at the Chateau, though they were contained in clear plastic bags.


    ¡°Care to do the honors?¡± Sparrow asked me when we reached the last security door separating us from the outside world.


    With perhaps a bit too much enthusiasm, I smashed the door down. The security door must have been incredibly sturdy, because it managed to stay on its hinges even as it flew open.


    I stepped outside into the chilly afternoon air. Even though I had only been incarcerated for a few hours, I felt glad to be free once more. That short deprivation of my freedom was enough for me to appreciate it much more.

 Chapter 10 - [The Albatross]

    With the doors now open, I saw Sparrow¡¯s vehicle - the Albatross - for the first time. It was, to put it plainly, unlike anything I had ever seen before.


    The Albatross was a large rectangular object that was the size of a semi truck. Rotating fans and angled jet engines decorated the exterior of the object, though I could immediately tell that those weren¡¯t sufficient to lift the Albatross into the air. Thick battery packs and large cubes that looked like magnets lined the bottom of the vehicle. As I stepped closer to the Albatross, the temperature dropped considerably, prompting me to throw my leather jacket over my orange jumpsuit.


    Due to the low temperature, I suspected that the objects strapped to the bottom of the Albatross were superconductors, and it achieved locomotion through the Meissner Effect. It was like one of those Japanese bullet trains. At least, that was my first guess.


    Sparrow jumped into her vehicle, and we followed her inside. The interior of the Albatross resembled a military operation¡¯s room where small teams of special forces soldiers would receive their briefings before a dangerous mission. The walls were lined with large screens bearing slowly-moving maps of New Kinsington or North America. The map of New Kinsington was marked with various diagrams, and the whole city was broken up into eight districts: O¡¯Hare, Lakeview, Sutton, Lawndale, Bridgeport, Kenwood, Ashburn, and Roseland.


    The city was very different from what I remembered, but it bore certain striking similarities. Fuller Park was still there (or whatever it was called in this world), and it still served the purpose of dividing the city between the East Side and the West Side. Also, I recognized the districts¡¯ names, though many of them seemed out of place to me. The O¡¯Hare District encompassed all of the Far North, and Lawndale District had grown to encompass most of the West Side.


    Most notable of all was Sutton District. What had been the Loop just hours before now bore the name of Sebastian Sutton, Kingfisher. Naturally, that man had renamed the beating heart of Chicago after himself.


    ¡°Great! Everything¡¯s working!¡± Sparrow cried out in joy a moment before the cockpit was filled with the sound of spinning fans and burning engines.


    ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t it be working?¡± I asked.


    For future reference, I took my phone out of the bag and took a picture of the map of New Kinsington. At that same moment, Sparrow stepped into the crew compartment where Ryan and I were standing.


    ¡°Hold on!¡± Sparrow shouted, and I froze in place. She pointed one glove hand at my phone. ¡°How is your phone working?¡±


    I just shrugged.


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    ¡°How did you manage to add a faraday cage to something so small?¡± Sparrow said, her eyes locked on my phone. A dangerous look was on her face as she walked toward me and reached out to grab the device in my hand.


    I knew a hyperfixation when I saw it. If Sparrow gained access to my phone, it would only be a matter of time until it was disassembled. I pulled my phone out of her grasp, interposing my body between her and my phone. She could probably physically overpower me with her mutant body, but I was betting that she wouldn¡¯t be willing to do that.


    ¡°Hey, hey!¡± I said, embarrassed by the sudden proximity with a woman¡¯s body. Sparrow¡¯s face came a few inches from my own, and I got a good look at the small part of her face that she kept uncovered.


    To my surprise, she looked like she was a year or two younger than me, probably the same age as Ganymede. Jesus, was every superhero in this town a damn teenager!?


    Based on the epicanthic folds on her eyes, I suspected that Sparrow was of Asian descent. Korean would be my first guess. There wasn¡¯t much more I could glean from her appearance due to the concealment. Damn, I really wanted to get a better look at her.


    ¡°Come on, I just want to see it,¡± Sparrow asked, and a part of me wanted to give her the phone.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what¡¯s special about it. It¡¯s just a phone,¡± I said.


    ¡°All unshielded batteries in the town were drained an hour ago, yet your device still holds charge. Plus, I¡¯ve never seen anything quite like it. What¡¯s that? An apple with a bite out of it? Is that a reference to the apple of Eden?¡±


    ¡°I have amnesia, remember? I don¡¯t know. This was in my pocket when I woke up,¡± I said, lying.


    ¡°If you just give it to me, then¡­¡± Sparrow said.


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± Ryan said, cutting her off.


    Ryan pointed out the window at the torso of a gargantuan reptilian beast standing in the harbor. It had almost reached waist-level in the harbor, even though the water there would have to be several hundred feet deep.


    ¡°That is the reason you two are out of prison right now,¡± Sparrow said, her attention drawn away from my phone. With her back turned, I hid it in one of my leather jacket¡¯s pockets.


    ¡°Excuse me?¡± Ryan asked rhetorically. ¡°How are we supposed to deal with a kaiju?¡±


    ¡°Kingfisher thinks our good friend Macro-Kinetic is a Level 3.¡± Without warning, Sparrow jumped back into the cockpit. ¡°Buckle up quickly!¡±


    I dove into one of the six leather seats in the crew compartment and quickly fastened the crash harness over my shoulders. Before I had managed to clasp the last buckle, the Albatross jerked into the air. I looked out the window and saw that we were already more than a hundred feet up.


    ¡°Here¡¯s the plan!¡± Sparrow shouted over the rhythmic thrumming that ran through the Albatross. ¡°We¡¯re flying to Lakeview where we¡¯ll land on a building with a good view of the harbor. From there, Macro-Kinetic will kill the kaiju.¡±


    ¡°Is that right?¡± I asked, slightly annoyed that the plan had been decided without my input.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Kingfisher will reward you generously for your contribution,¡± Sparrow said.


    ¡°Respectfully, Kingfisher can shove it up his ass,¡± I said in the least respectful tone I could manage. Oh, that felt good.


    ¡°You¡¯re not going to do it?¡± Sparrow said with shock and disappointment in her voice.


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯ll do it, but not because Kingfisher told me to. I¡¯ll do it to protect the city. Tell Kingfisher he can keep his blood money.¡±

 Chapter 11 - [Electrozilla]

    As we flew through the air, the giant lizard walking through New Kinsington¡¯s bay stood in the center of my sightline. I looked at it and wondered if my power was really enough to kill it. Honestly, I had no idea if I was strong enough. I had never used my Level 3 Telekinesis at full power before.


    ¡°What¡¯s your problem with Kingfisher?¡± Sparrow asked angrily.


    I didn¡¯t want to explain myself because, honestly, I knew I was being irrational. Kingfisher had just designed the prison. He didn¡¯t pull the trigger and kill Ganymede himself, but I couldn¡¯t control how I felt. Every time I closed my eyes, the memory of a teenager being torn apart by a downpour of bullets played out in my mind.


    ¡°That kaiju, what¡¯s its name?¡± I asked, trying to change the subject.


    Sparrow didn¡¯t answer my question for a few seconds, so Ryan said, ¡°We usually just give the kaijus numbers, so that one must be Kaiju 21. That¡¯s unless there¡¯s been a new kaiju in the last two weeks.¡±


    ¡°Nope,¡± Sparrow said. ¡°That¡¯s Kaiju 21.¡±


    ¡°Wait, you probably don¡¯t know what a kaiju is,¡± Ryan said. ¡°You see, a kaiju¡­¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t need to explain that, I got it,¡± I said.


    A quick peal of laughter sounded over the intercoms before Sparrow said, ¡°You know what a kaiju is, but you didn¡¯t know about Sebastian Sutton?¡±


    ¡°Amnesia is a fickle mistress,¡± I said, trying to sound cryptic.


    ¡°Do you know your name, Macro?¡± Sparrow asked.


    I opened up my wallet and held my license out, though only Ryan Kovacs could see it. ¡°According to this, my name is Kevin Avery, and I¡¯m twenty years old.¡±


    ¡°That tracks,¡± Sparrow said. ¡°The other Level 3s were all somewhere between eighteen and twenty-two when they gained their powers.¡±


    ¡°How old are you, Sparrow?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Th-that¡¯s not important,¡± Sparrow said, clearly embarrassed by the question.


    I paused, an eerie thought bubbling to the surface of my mind. ¡°How long have you been a Hero?¡±


    ¡°Four years.¡±


    She must have been in her mid-teens when she started. My God, I knew that teenage heroes were common in superhero media, but the idea that children were fighting in regular life-or-death battles against criminals filled me with unease.


    I looked down at my hands. The power within me was astonishing, and it made me wonder if I was strong enough to fix this new world I found myself within. Was I strong enough to prevent people like Sparrow from suffering unnecessarily? One way or another, my first step was to destroy that big lizard.


    ¡°It needs a better name,¡± I muttered, barely loud enough for anyone to hear.


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    ¡°What was that?¡± Sparrow asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to be known as the guy that killed Kaiju 21. I want to be the guy that killed Mothra or Rodan. What should we call it?¡±


    Ryan paused for a moment. With his hand on his chin, he said, ¡°Well, it controls electricity¡­¡±


    ¡°Electrozilla!¡± I said, snapping my fingers.


    ¡°That¡¯s as good a name as any,¡± Sparrow said, and I swear I could hear her shrug on the other side of the intercom. ¡°Just don¡¯t expect that name to appear on any official documents.¡±


    Honestly, I expected them to make fun of the name when I said it, and I regretted the name the moment it came out of my mouth. This world had different naming conventions where nobody batted an eye when I declared my name to be ¡°Macro-Kinetic,¡± so I guess ¡°Electrozilla¡± wasn¡¯t that abnormal. Plus, they probably had no idea who Godzilla was, anyway.


    We landed, and Sparrow said, ¡°Everybody out.¡±


    Once outside of the Albatross, I realized that we were standing on the top of a high-rise building with a good view of the harbor. I had a straight shot at Electrozilla as he slowly approached us, getting larger and larger with every step. By my approximation, he was more than a thousand feet tall (about the height of the Empire State Building). Electrozilla would dwarf the building I was standing on if he reached it.


    ¡°Okay, uh, what now?¡± I asked, looking over to Sparrow.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Grab it or something. You¡¯re the expert.¡±


    ¡°I am not an expert on¡­¡±


    My rebuttal was cut off as Electrozilla reared back and roared. The sound was apocalyptic. Almost every window in the city shattered, and the pain in my ears almost drove me to my knees. When I could hear again, the first thing I heard was the sound of a baby crying in the apartment below me.


    With that painful lesson, I knew there was no time to goof off. Every second I wasted not attacking the kaiju was a life endangered. I had to attack immediately.


    I projected my hands toward the creature, though I lost my sense of distance after a few miles. Seeing the water, I realized I could use it for rangefinding. I slammed my projected fist downward, and a spout of lake water erupted upward a few thousand feet in front of Electrozilla. I did that a few more times, causing eruptions in the harbor that resembled a field of underwater mines detonating. The roiling spouts of water barely reached the kaiju¡¯s shoulder, and I wondered if my power would be enough.


    Somewhere in the port, a pillar of fire projected upward like a tornado. I hoped that the fire was being controlled by an ally, and I continued focusing on the kaiju.


    After half a dozen attempts, I found my range. A geyser of water erupted just a few feet away from Electrozilla, and I knew I could reach him. With a cupped hand, I reached out and tried to grab his arm. Just as my telekinetic hand should have made contact, however, my connection fizzled, and I could no longer feel the feedback in my hand. It was just like the Mandeville Mist.


    ¡°I can¡¯t grab him,¡± I said to Sparrow.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°I think he¡¯s protected by the Mandeville Limit.¡±


    ¡°No, that¡¯s impossible,¡± Sparrow said, though I could hear the doubt in her voice. ¡°The Mandeville Limit only protects humans.¡±


    ¡°Impossible or not, I can¡¯t touch him. I need something to throw, something heavy.¡±


    ¡°There!¡± Sparrow said, pointing to a set of electrical transformers on a nearby rooftop. ¡°It¡¯s metal, and we can just compensate the owners later.¡±


    ¡°Fine, as long as I don¡¯t end up in prison because of this.¡±


    With one hand, I kept the range to Electrozilla internalized. I held my projected hand in that fuzzy area where it frequently popped in and out of reality. With my other hand, I grasped several hundred pounds of steel electrical equipment. The metal crumpled and bent under the weight of my grasp until all of it was contained within a sphere that measured four feet in diameter.


    I pulled back the impromptu cannonball and set my eyes on Electrozilla.

 Chapter 12 - [Cannonball]

    The steel orb floated in the air above the city, vibrating with potential energy. For the first time, I was really able to grasp hold of something. I felt like a professional baseball pitcher picking up a ball for the first time in the season.


    My left hand held the range to the kaiju while my right held the baseball, a several-hundred-pound sphere of condensed steel. Due to the Mandeville Limit, I had a perfect understanding of the distance between myself and my target. I could feel the kaiju as well as I could feel my left hand.


    ¡°It is 28,450 feet away, or 5.4 miles,¡± Sparrow said, her tone completely serious. All signs of the earlier banter were completely gone.


    Sparrow knelt down like a sniper preparing to fire, and she held a thick pair of binoculars up to her eyes. Not looking away from the kaiju, she asked, ¡°Do you have the shot?¡±


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t miss if I tried.¡±


    With the invisible baseball in my hand, I punched forward into my open palm. Matching my movement, the steel cannonball shot forward, cracking as it broke the sound barrier. It accelerated every millisecond until the moment it struck the kaiju in the chest after 1.55 seconds. At the moment of impact, the cannonball was traveling at Mach 20.


    The cannonball, flying at the speed of a meteor, struck Electrozilla in the chest. There was an explosion of heat and viscera as the steel projectile pierced right through the creature¡¯s body. The cannonball crashed into Lake Michigan a few miles behind the creature, and a plume of water erupted several thousand feet into the air. Tremors shook through the ground as Kaiju 21 took two faltering steps back, and I held my breath as I waited to see if it would fall.


    Half a dozen bright beams of light shot out from various points in the city and struck Electrozilla in the terrible, gaping wound that I had just dug in his scaly exterior. The creature thrashed and stumbled as the flaming tornado diverted toward the injured beast. The flame, writhing as if it was a living organism, crawled into the creature¡¯s wound and began burning it from the inside.


    Electrozilla stumbled once more and finally fell into the water. The living flames withdrew just before the kaiju was submerged, falling back to the port from which they originated.


    Once the kaiju disappeared from view, all that remained was a circle of dark red blood spreading toward the port like an oil spill. I allowed myself to let out a sigh of relief. That was easier than I expected. That really was the privilege I had been given by this earth-shattering power. There probably wasn¡¯t anything in the world that could survive one of my attacks.


    ¡°Who was controlling the fire?¡± I asked, relaxing and rotating my shoulders.


    ¡°Akuma,¡± Sparrow answered shortly. Her eyes were still fixed on the water that had just been dyed red.


    ¡°Why are you worried? I put a hole in that thing¡¯s chest. There¡¯s no way it could have survived,¡± I asked with a relaxed smile on my face.


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    The bloody water began to bubble. Seconds later, Electrozilla¡¯s head reappeared. He stood up once more, and all evidence of that lethal wound I had dealt to it just seconds before was gone. In a matter of seconds, Kaiju 21 had completely healed itself.


    ¡°Not fair!¡± I shouted petulantly as Electrozilla began walking toward the port once more. It seemed completely unbothered by my efforts to kill it.


    Sparrow pressed one finger to her ear, and her skin paled significantly. Her eyes widened with fear, and she looked at me with the expression of a drowning woman looking at a life preserver.


    ¡°I just received a message from the higher ups. They¡¯re asking if you can kill Kaiju 21. If you can¡¯t, they need to start evacuating the entire city immediately. They need an immediate answer. Can you do it?¡±


    I stopped and turned my senses inward. Could I do it? How much power did I have left in the tank? Once again, I looked down at my hands and thought about how much power was contained within.


    ¡°I can win,¡± I said with total confidence.


    Far below the surface, I felt a well of power that I had not yet drawn from. The flesh of Electrozilla was weak, and I just had to rip and tear until he couldn¡¯t regenerate any more. The only question was how much collateral damage would I cause. Parts of the city were already flooding from the instability in Lake Michigan caused by my telekinetic assault.


    ¡°I need one of those ¡®higher ups¡¯ to agree to take responsibility for any collateral damage I cause. If they want the city to be saved, I¡¯ll need to break some stuff.¡±


    While Sparrow carried out a conversation on her earpiece, I sat on the lip of the building and watched Electrozilla continue his slow approach. I pulled my MP3 player out of the pocket of my prison uniform and started scrolling through my playlist. My eyes were drawn to the band Chicago, and I started looking through songs in their catalogue.


    Ryan approached me, and I waved at him in greeting. He was wearing civilian clothes. He must have changed in the Albatross. Sparrow seemed to be involved in a pitched argument, so we probably had a minute to talk.


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have believed it if I hadn¡¯t seen it with my own eyes, but you¡¯re really the strongest telekinetic in the world,¡± Ryan said with a strangely wistful look in his eyes. ¡°You have the power to change the world.¡±


    ¡°If I survive,¡± I said with a smile.


    ¡°Yeah.¡± Ryan chuckled. ¡°I¡¯ll probably get out of here in a second, if it¡¯s all the same to you.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s probably a good idea. You¡¯re a wanted man, after all.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll be able to get all that stuff worked out. Stay strong, friend.¡±


    ¡°You too.¡±


    Ryan Kovacs stood from his location on the perch, and he disappeared a few seconds later into the apartment building. No matter what happened during my fight, I believed he would survive. He was stronger than the strongest normal human. He could survive an evacuation.


    ¡°Macro-Kinetic,¡± Sparrow called out. ¡°They responded. Speaker of the House Melissa Monroe says she will take responsibility for any collateral damage caused by you.¡±


    ¡°Good enough,¡± I said, shrugging. I rose to my feet, popped my earbuds into my ears, and began playing 25 or 6 to 4 by Chicago on my MP3 player.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go to work.¡±

 Chapter 13 - [25 or 6 to 4]

    The music began, blocking out everything except for my own body and Electrozilla¡¯s gargantuan form in the harbor. I began tapping my foot as the horns began to play and the power coursing through my body increased. Sparrow shouted something at me in a frantic voice, but I couldn¡¯t hear her in my trance. The music rose for several seconds, and then the lyrics started.


    ¡°Waiting for the break of day!¡±


    ¡°Searching for something to say!¡±


    I lifted two handfuls of silty loam out of the harbor. Millions of gallons of lake water fell from two gargantuan hands, momentarily giving them shape. Each hand was nearly half the size of the kaiju, and even I was surprised by them. I figured my telekinetic hands were typically the size of trucks, but those disembodied hands floating in the river were easily the size of buildings.


    ¡°Dancing lights against the sky!¡±


    ¡°Giving up, I close my eyes!¡±


    One hand smashed into Electrozilla with the momentum of a meteor-strike. The speed of the attack seemed slow at a distance, but the feedback in my arm informed me that the island of dirt flying into the kaiju¡¯s face was traveling at several hundred miles per hour when it struck. My projected hand disappeared when it struck the creature¡¯s skin, but the dirt kept going and smashed into its skull.


    ¡°Sitting cross-legged on the floor!¡±


    ¡°Twenty-five or six to four!¡±


    The creature faltered backward and recoiled when it was struck. More dark red blood fell from its body, dyeing the harbor even further. I struck the creature once more with my other hand, and the combo of blows was enough to knock it onto its back. A massive wave of water flew into the air, and I could hear Sparrow cheer in excitement.


    ¡°Staring blindly into space!¡±


    ¡°Getting up to splash my face!¡±


    The kaiju began to stand up, and I watched as the creature¡¯s mangled upper-body healed itself. Within seconds, it was already completely healed. If I wanted to put the beast down, I would need to deal damage faster than it could heal.


    ¡°Wanting just to stay away!¡±


    ¡°Wondering how much I can take!¡±


    ¡°Ooh!¡±


    Looking about as angry as a city-block-sized dinosaur could look, Electrozilla glared in my direction as it began to glow a bright yellow. Surely, it didn¡¯t know where I was. I must have been a speck to it.


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    ¡°Should I try to do some more!?¡±


    ¡°Twenty-five or six to four!¡±


    ¡°Yeah!¡±


    A powerful beam of energy erupted in my direction. It was perfectly aimed, and it reached the roof I was standing on in less than two seconds. I threw up a warding hand, and the beam crashed against my conjured barrier. There was so much force behind the attack that I was pushed back a few steps.


    The barrier held, though I could tell the beam carried an immense force behind it. After a second, I realized that the beam was scattering against my barrier and striking the street beneath my vantage point. I angled the barrier upward, causing the beam to arc at a forty-five degree angle past my position. Considering the force behind the attack, I knew the beam would continue flying for several miles before striking the ground once more. I sincerely hoped that no one lived three miles behind me.


    Eventually, the beam fizzled, and I could hear the music once more. The guitar solo was still going, and the music was enough to stop me from focusing on the fact that the ground beneath me was starting to shake. Apparently, the beam from earlier had destabilized the building I was standing on.


    I took a breath and reentered that trance-like state where only my body and my target existed, I reached out and lifted a cargo ship out of the harbor. I had no idea exactly how big that cargo ship was, but I knew it was about the same size as Electrozilla.


    The cargo ship split in half as I twisted it in between two building-sized hands. Those two giant pieces of metal were crushed by an invisible force as I coated my hands with their hulls.


    ¡°Feeling like I ought to sleep!¡±


    ¡°Spinning room is sinking deep!¡±


    I latched onto Electrozilla with one giant metal shackle. It screeched loud enough for me to hear it over the music as it was pushed to the side. After a moment of surprise, it was able to dig its feet into the ground and stop the movement.


    ¡°Searching for something to say!¡±


    ¡°Waiting for the break of day!¡±


    The other shackle made of the cargo ship¡¯s corpse slammed into the other side of Electrozilla, and I began to squeeze. The beast roared even louder this time, and he began to glow once more. Now that I finally had a good grip on the creature, I began to lift him into the air. He began to glow with dangerous intent, and I rotated him as a beam of energy once more flew from his mouth.


    The beam was clearly meant for me, but it flew harmlessly over my head since the rotation threw off Electrozilla¡¯s aim.


    ¡°Twenty-five or six to four!¡±


    ¡°Twenty-five or six to four!¡±


    I squeezed, applying as much force as I could to the creature. Just as I reached my breaking point and I could squeeze no harder, a cloud of dark blood ejected outward with great force.


    The horns began to play, and I realized that the song was coming to an end as the resistance to my attack lessened. I applied just a little more pressure, and the two shackles pressed inward and met in the middle. Like a giant building-sized bear trap, the shackles clamped together, cutting Electrozilla completely in half.


    The kaiju fell into the bay, cut into two pieces. A steadily-growing circle of blood radiated outward, and I knew the bay of New Kinsington would be dyed red for weeks.


    I removed my headphones from my ears. With a nostalgic sigh, I turned to Sparrow and said, ¡°They really don¡¯t make songs like they used to.¡±

 Chapter 14 - [Home Base]

    I looked down at my hands and saw that they were marked with brown and blue bruises. My palms were coated with a persistent bruise as if I had clenched my hands too hard for too long. The back of my left hand carried a painful blue circle where I had blocked Electrozilla¡¯s beam, and I could tell that my index finger was broken. I was able to open and close my right hand, but it trembled as it moved. Clearly, I had overexerted my telekinesis during the fight. Silver lining, I now knew the limit of my power.


    Slowly, I removed my earbuds as Sparrow approached me. In an instant, her arms were around my shoulders, and I had to stop my knee jerk reaction of attempting to kick her off the roof. After a second, I realized she wasn¡¯t attacking me.


    ¡°You did it!¡± Sparrow said, hugging me. ¡°I didn¡¯t think it was possible.¡±


    Cautiously, I lightly tapped Sparrow¡¯s shoulder with my less-damaged hand. Over her shoulder, I could see the harbor where the upper crest of Electrozilla¡¯s head still jutted out of the water. As I looked, it did not move.


    Good, I thought. With my hands the way they were, I could fight, but I would have to wait another few weeks before I could squish another kaiju.


    ¡°Careful, I¡¯m injured,¡± I said, and Sparrow pulled away from me.


    ¡°What happened?¡±


    I showed her my hands, saying, ¡°When I push out on the world, it pushes back, apparently. It¡¯s news to me.¡±


    ¡°Oh, Seraph can fix that?¡±


    ¡°Who¡¯s Seraph?¡± I asked.


    ¡°She¡¯s a Hero in the city who can heal any wound. Seraph wouldn¡¯t help a small fish like me, but I¡¯m sure she would heal you.¡±


    A superpower that could heal any wound? The idea put me on edge. If she could heal people, I suspected she could change their bodies however she wanted. In superhero fiction, the healers were always secretly the most dangerous.


    ¡°No thank you,¡± I said, turning down the offer as calmly as I could manage. I made a mental note to stay as far away from Seraph as humanly possible. Images of disgusting, writhing flesh monsters flew through my mind.


    I took several steps away from Sparrow as she looked over toward the harbor. Even through the hood and mask, I could tell that she was smiling.


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    ¡°It¡¯s a miracle. There has never before been a kaiju attack that didn¡¯t result in mass destruction of infrastructure and thousands of deaths.¡±


    I did not respond immediately. Instead, I allowed a long beat of silence while I kept my eyes locked on Sparrow. In a low voice, I said, ¡°So, what now? Do you plan to take me to prison? I really wouldn¡¯t recommend trying.¡±


    Thoughts of neutralizing Sparrow sped through my mind. If she attacked me, how could I stop her nonlethally? Could a mutant survive falling from a forty-story building? I could probably throw her onto a neighboring rooftop and then fly away on a chunk of concrete. She would end up with some bruises but would be otherwise okay.


    ¡°What?¡± Sparrow said, legitimately confused. ¡°You just saved the city! Nobody would think of arresting you now!¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± I said, letting out a sigh of relief. ¡°Sorry, it¡¯s been a long day.¡±


    Sparrow held a hand up to the communicator in her ear. After a few seconds, she said, ¡°The Speaker of the House says she wants to thank you in person. Governor Sutton also wants to meet with you.¡±


    There would certainly be hundreds of cameras at the meeting as well. If I went to the meeting, I would definitely be used as a political tool. At that particular moment, I wasn¡¯t interested in being used.


    What if Sutton decided I was a threat? I looked down at my hands and figured that I could use less than 50% of my total power at the moment. He was a Level 3 Genius. A fight against him would require all of my power.


    ¡°No,¡± I said firmly. ¡°Not right now. If they still want to talk to me in a few weeks, I¡¯ll do it then.¡±


    ¡°Why not!?¡± Sparrow demanded.


    ¡°Unlike you, my skull is just as vulnerable to bullets as anybody else. If Kingfisher decides I¡¯m too big a threat - by the way, I am - then he might just shoot me. If he catches me off guard, that¡¯s it.¡±


    I turned my back to Sparrow and carved a large piece of stone out of the wall. If I used my power very carefully, I could probably use that piece of stone to fly through the air.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to trust Kingfisher,¡± Sparrow said with anxiety in her voice. ¡°Just trust me. Don¡¯t run off. Come with me.¡±


    I paused, rubbing my fingers against my neck. How long until the government turned against me and I ended up in prison again? I sighed and came to a decision.


    ¡°Okay.¡±


    Back in the Albatross, I changed back into the clothes I was wearing when I appeared in the middle of New Kinsington. The large floating vehicle flew west deeper into the city.


    After a few minutes in the air, I spotted a massive wall that reached high into the air, dwarfing the small buildings around it. The Albatross landed on a platform built into the side of the gargantuan wall, and a dozen metal spider-like appendages reached out and clamped the vehicle to the platform.


    Sparrow and I stepped out of the Albatross and entered a large room that was built into the wall that surrounded the city.


    ¡°This is my home base,¡± Sparrow said, gesturing to the rest of the room. Heavy pieces of industrial equipment and racks holding dozens of electronic devices were scattered around the room. It met my expectations for the workshop of a Genius.


    ¡°Sorry to intrude,¡± I said. ¡°Do you live here?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Sparrow said as she disappeared behind a shelf holding thousands of magnets of various sizes. ¡°This is just my workshop. I live nearby.¡±


    She stepped back out into view, and I was shocked by what I saw.

 Chapter 15 - [Europa]

    Sparrow looked completely different. In the few seconds she spent behind the shelf, she had changed into a new outfit. She wore a black skirt, tights, and a T-shirt with the word ¡°NOCTURNAL¡± written in all-caps. Her mask was gone, revealing an attractive woman underneath. Her hair was dyed blue, though the black roots of her hair were starting to show.


    My face twitched, and my mouth hung open slightly for a few seconds before I was able to collect myself. Her outfit was very effective at hiding her identity, which made the switch much starker.


    ¡°You change fast,¡± I said to cover up the embarrassment I was feeling.


    ¡°It¡¯s a trick you pick up as a Hero,¡± Sparrow said, and I could see some coloration in her cheeks.


    She stepped into an elevator, and I followed her. I was reminded of the elevator ride out of the Chateau, which made me appreciate the informality and calmness of the present moment. Last time, we were a Hero and a maximum-security prisoner. This time, we were just two young people in an elevator.


    ¡°So, Sparrow,¡± I said, chuckling slightly. ¡°What do I call you now?¡±


    ¡°I hope you appreciate this, Macro. I don¡¯t let many people learn my secret identity. Some Heroes are really casual about telling people, but I¡¯m not.¡± She spoke with a light tone, but I could hear real fear in her voice.


    ¡°I really am thankful, really,¡± I said truthfully.


    She smiled slightly before speaking. ¡°My real name is Hana York.¡±


    ¡°York, eh?¡± I gave her a sideways glance. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ uh¡­ not what I expected.¡±


    ¡°Why, ¡®cause I¡¯m Asian?¡± Hana said with a sardonic smile.


    Race relations were the same on this planet. Good to know.


    ¡°To be honest, I never knew my parents,¡± Hana said wistfully. ¡°I decided to take the name of the nun who ran the orphanage as my surname.¡±


    The elevator doors opened, and we exited out onto the street. Though the sun was still above the horizon, no one was standing nearby when we left the elevator. The road looked like it hadn¡¯t been maintained in decades, and the asphalt looked like it would be fully consumed by the dirt in a few years.


    Immediately, I knew this was a bad part of town. The buildings were all dilapidated, and the lack of foot traffic put me on guard. It was the kind of place that homeless people would stay away from due to lack of safety. I doubted that the cops ever patrolled this part of town.


    I choked down a sarcastic statement. Instead, I said, ¡°What¡¯s up with the wall?¡±


    ¡°I thought even you¡¯d know about that,¡± Hana said. ¡°The walls keep out the divine beasts and nightwalkers.¡±


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    Of course, the divine beasts and nightwalkers. Silly me.


    ¡°Well, here¡¯s the place,¡± Hana said after walking less than a hundred feet away from the wall. With the sun low in the sky, the building we stood in front of languished in the wall¡¯s shadow.


    On the front of the building, the words ¡°Ashburn Luxury Apartments¡± were written in neat faded letters. Before I looked at the apartment building, my eyes were first drawn to the smaller building across the cracked street, which was marked with the words ¡°New Hope Orphanage.¡± Hana looked over toward the old orphanage, and there was great significance in her gaze.


    ¡°What¡¯s the story?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t want to go far from home,¡± Hana answered.


    We entered the apartment building, and it was much nicer on the inside. The lights were out, but the lobby seemed like it was well maintained. Two people in their mid-twenties - a man and a woman - stood at the far end of the lobby. Their backs were turned to the entrance, and they were fiddling with a fuse box built into the wall.


    Once the door was closed, Hana said, ¡°Now that we¡¯re out of the open, I can tell you that every person who lives here is a Hero working for New Kinsington. The city pays for rent and utilities, and there¡¯s always food in the pantry.¡±


    ¡°Nice place,¡± I said. Once the words were already out of my mouth, I realized I meant it. ¡°Do you get paid for being a Hero?¡±


    ¡°Pay for Heroes is a¡­ touchy subject,¡± Hana said. ¡°Those of us that get paid make enough to live on, and we try to support the Heroes that don¡¯t make money.¡±


    ¡°Ah, politics,¡± I said with a smile. The more things change, the more they stay the same.


    The two others in the lobby saw us, and the man said, ¡°Hey, Hana! The power cut out. Help us fix it.¡±


    The woman saw me and asked, ¡°Who¡¯s the new guy?¡±


    ¡°His name is Kevin Avery; he¡¯s a telekinetic,¡± Hana said.


    ¡°Hello,¡± I said.


    Sparrow gestured to the man and said, ¡°This is Jason Jacobi. He can control electricity, and his Hero name is Thunderbolt.¡±


    Very original.


    She pointed at the woman, saying, ¡°This is Claire York. She¡¯s a telepath, and her Hero name is Europa.¡±


    Europa? Unbidden, thoughts began flying through my mind and dots started getting connected. She was named after a moon of Jupiter just like somebody else I ran into recently.


    ¡°Another blank? How annoying,¡± Claire said, grimacing in my direction.


    I looked over at Hana awkwardly. With just a few sentences, my mind was filled with three questions that I needed to have answered.


    ¡°Blanks are people who are immune to telepathy and mind control,¡± Hana answered my implicit question. ¡°I¡¯m a blank, and I guess you are too.¡±


    I was reminded of the time when Speaker tried to control my mind. ¡°I see. Claire, you wouldn¡¯t happen to be connected to a villain named Ganymede?¡±


    The tension in the room increased significantly as soon as I said the word ¡°Ganymede,¡± and I knew I was right.


    Though I expected an answer from Claire, Hana was the first one to speak. ¡°The orphanage is officially run by Kingfisher and Calysto, so a lot of the kids who go through there name themselves after birds or moons. Ganymede lived in the orphanage at the same time as me and Claire.¡±


    For a brief moment, I considered telling them the truth, that Ganymede had been killed in a prison break after running through a door that I had opened. There was no reason to, so I kept my mouth shut. They would learn the truth eventually, and I didn¡¯t want to darken our first meeting.


    ¡°Nice to meet you. Now, help me get the electricity back on,¡± Jason Jacobi said quickly.

 Chapter 16 - [Kingfisher]

    Sutton District, New Kinsington


    March 8th, 2025


    7:15 PM


    The smartest man in the world sat behind a conservative mahogany desk, listening to a woman with feathered wings give a report. The woman wore a white leotard, and wings were emblazoned on the light fabric covering her chest.


    Governor Sebastian Sutton rested his chin on his hand and lightly twirled his walking cane as she spoke. He already knew everything she was saying, so the words dissolved into meaningless noise like the adults in a Peanuts comic were speaking.


    In the depths of his mind, he considered the myriad externalities that the present situation would have on his country. The kaiju was bad enough, and this new Level 3 could only make things worse. This new telekinetic, Kevin Avery, was certainly strong. The recordings and eye-witness testimonies of Kaiju 21¡¯s death provided evidence of that. The cards were still in Kingfisher¡¯s favor, though. Not even the strongest telekinetic barriers could block lasers or sound waves.


    ¡°In short, it was the perfect storm. We weren¡¯t ready, and we¡¯re lucky to have escaped with some flooding and a destroyed cargo ship. In total, the damage should be less than ten million dollars.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Seraph,¡± Kingfisher said, though he was speaking mostly on autopilot. The bulk of his processing power was busy designing a new laser weapon to counter Kevin Avery. The weapon would be too large to transport, but he could make it maneuverable enough to remain locked on a small, fast-moving target.


    After a beat of silence, the Governor said, ¡°Here¡¯s what we¡¯ll do. Once the KFBs are operational once more, they¡¯ll start focusing on repairing buildings and replacing the batteries that were destroyed by Kaiju 21.¡± He rose to his feet, using his walking cane to supply the force that his right leg couldn¡¯t. ¡°Regarding our new friend, Macro-Kinetic, I want you to roll out the red carpet. We¡¯ll hold a festival tomorrow in honor of the hero who saved New Kinsington. If you can, I want you to talk to him, Seraph. Remind him that we¡¯re the good guys.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s great,¡± Seraph said with a smile while Kingfisher limped a few steps toward the large window in his office. ¡°The people could really use a celebration right now.¡±


    ¡°I also want you to create a new variant of the Heart Stopper Virus.¡±


    Shocked, Seraph said, ¡°I can¡¯t! We barely contained the first variant! If this one mutates too much, millions could die!¡±


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    Seraph took a few steps toward Kingfisher as she passionately spoke. The moment she stepped within ten feet of the Governor, she passed some invisible threshold, prompting a flurry of violent motion.


    Four panels on the corners of Kingfisher¡¯s office shot open, and four automated turrets sprung out before locking onto Seraph half a second later. Simultaneously, Kingfisher swiftly drew a small revolver from a holster under his suit jacket and aimed it at Seraph¡¯s midsection. She halted in place, terror in her eyes.


    In an eerily calm voice, Kingfisher said, ¡°I know you¡¯re a passionate woman, Seraph, but I¡¯m not stupid enough to let you get within arm¡¯s reach. Step back, please.¡±


    Slowly, Seraph stepped away from Kingfisher. When she was more than twenty feet from Sutton, the turrets retracted, and the barrel of the revolver lowered. Sutton did not return the revolver to its holster, however.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Kingfisher said. ¡°Your concerns about the new variant are legitimate but misled, since you don¡¯t know what it will be used for. I want this new variant to be infectious, not contagious. Only a select few will be infected with the virus. The likelihood for mutation is essentially nonexistent as long as the virus infects fewer than twenty individuals, correct?¡±


    ¡°Who do you plan to infect?¡±


    ¡°People that need to be controlled,¡± Kingfisher said with a shrug. He snapped his fingers, and a computer screen popped out of his desk and angled toward Seraph. Without any further instruction from Kingfisher, the screen began to show a recording of Electrozilla¡¯s destruction. ¡°When power like this exists in the world, we need assurances that such power will not be used for evil.¡±


    Seraph¡¯s eyes were locked on the screen for several long seconds. Two building-sized pieces of metal clamped down, and Electrozilla was cut in half.


    ¡°I¡­ I will think about it.¡±


    ¡°You have three days,¡± Kingfisher said coldly. ¡°If you don¡¯t start working on the new variant by then, you can find yourself another job. I hear Pacific City is beautiful this time of year.¡±


    ¡°N-no, b-but¡­¡±


    ¡°Of course, you and your family wouldn¡¯t be allowed to use any of my technology anymore. Maybe,¡± a cruel smile appeared on Kingfisher¡¯s face, ¡°you¡¯ll finally figure out how to cure genetic disorders without lethal side effects.¡±


    Seraph took another step back, her eyes on the verge of tears. ¡°I-I have to go.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t keep me waiting.¡±


    Seraph, the greatest Hero in New Kinsington, fled from Kingfisher¡¯s office. Within moments, the significance of the meeting had disappeared completely from his mind. Sure, he didn¡¯t like putting pressure on the girl, but he needed that variant more than he needed another supercop.


    Kingfisher looked out at the city through his window. At the very edge of his vision, he could see the wall that defined the borders of New Kinsington. One day before, everything in his domain was predictable. Now, there was one free radical that threatened to strike other particles and cause an unpredictable cascade. One way or another, Kingfisher would reassert control.


    He sincerely hoped that the newcomer would allow the process to be peaceful.

 Chapter 17 - [Deadeye]

    Ashburn District, New Kinsington


    March 8th, 2025


    7:30 PM


    I sat in my new home¡¯s kitchen, looking down at my bandaged hands. My broken finger was held firmly in a metal splint, and the rest of my hands were wrapped up like I was a mummy. The lights were still out, and the other three were up on the roof, looking at the transistors and wiring used to connect the building to the city¡¯s power grid.


    Considering that a man who could control electricity and a woman with encyclopedic knowledge of electromagnetism hadn¡¯t fixed the problem yet, I figured there must have been a problem with the hardware. Electrozilla must have blown some of the fuses when he drained the electricity from the building.


    Someone approached, causing the old floorboards to creak under their feet. The unknown individual stepped into the kitchen, and a man in a green combat jacket stepped into my view. He was probably in his thirties, though his blond hair had started losing its color. He walked with the self-assured confidence of a man who was accustomed to violence. I immediately figured he was either a police officer or, more likely, a professional Hero. The man was unlike Sparrow, Thunderbolt, and Europa. Something about him seemed more grounded in reality, like the world was weighing heavily down on him.


    In his hands, the man carried several large plastic bags, and the unmistakable smell of Chinese food wafted from the direction of the bags. I was suddenly reminded that I hadn¡¯t eaten since breakfast, and my lips began to water involuntarily.


    ¡°You¡¯re the new guy?¡± the man asked as he lifted the bags onto the counter. There was enough food for nearly a dozen people in there, and I figured that food must be for the people living in the apartment.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I said, wrenching my eyes off the bags of food.


    ¡°Kevin Avery, telekinetic?¡±


    I cleared my throat and spoke once more with confidence. ¡°Yes, that¡¯s me. It¡¯s nice to meet you.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m Frank,¡± he said, though his speech remained clipped and business-like. ¡°Block this.¡±


    In a blur of motion, Frank threw something at me. The room was only lit by the streetlights outside the building, and I had no idea what he threw. As far as I could tell, they were knives or throwing stars. Instinctually, I held my hand out to shield myself.


    There was a loud crack as I felt a light resistance against my index finger. Vaguely, I was aware that two small objects struck my projected hand and bounced off harmlessly.


    ¡°Hey! I¡¯m not a mutant! If this is some hazing ritual, then¡­¡±


    Frank jerked his hand downward as if he was throwing something at the ground. I saw a brief flash of light near his hand, and then I felt something hit the back of my head. The sensation was barely perceptible. The object that hit me couldn¡¯t have been bigger than a quarter.


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    ¡°If that was a bullet, you¡¯d be dead,¡± Frank said.


    ¡°Is this how you say ¡®hello¡¯ to everybody!?¡± I asked sarcastically.


    ¡°Do you plan to be a Hero, Macro-Kinetic?¡± the man asked, completely ignoring my question.


    I had to pause for a second. This was a city that put you in a hole under Lake Michigan with a bomb on your neck if you stepped out of line. Was I really interested in upholding that status quo? Ultimately, I was. This world had its problems, and it needed my help. The best path forward for me was to become a professional Hero like Sparrow. Perhaps, I could change the system from the inside.


    My power gave me the privilege to be good. There probably weren¡¯t many threats in the world that I couldn¡¯t delete in a few seconds, and that would be a useful tool for the forces of good.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I said. A moment later, I made another realization. ¡°Wait, how do you know that name?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a telekinetic who arrived in town today. The connection is obvious. Plus, the amount of force you put into that barrier proves it pretty clearly.¡±


    I looked down to the area that I had accidentally struck with my projected finger. The kitchen¡¯s island had a granite countertop, and it had just gained a new hole and three deep cracks through its main body. It looked like a mutant had smashed it with a sledgehammer.


    ¡°Why did you do that?¡± I asked. ¡°And, how did you do that? What hit me?¡±


    Frank sat down at the now-damaged island, and I did the same. He took an old lighter from his coat and lit it before saying, ¡°Anybody who watched that recording can tell you¡¯ve got power but no experience. I felt obligated to show you that your power doesn¡¯t make you unkillable.¡±


    ¡°I am very aware of the vulnerability of my flesh, Frank.¡±


    The man chuckled, saying, ¡°You¡¯re off to a good start, then. My first piece of advice is to figure out how to make a full-body shield or get a lot more trigger happy. Lack of defense can always be supplemented with firepower, but you actually have to use the firepower for that to work.¡±


    ¡°Uh huh,¡± I muttered, not wanting to admit that he was making good points. ¡°How did you hit me, anyway?¡±


    ¡°I could do it because I¡¯m Deadeye.¡±


    ¡°Uh¡­¡±


    ¡°Haven¡¯t heard of me. Okay. My power is Level 1 Spatial Manipulation. I can make small portals over short distances.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I see. You used your power to get around my barrier.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Here¡¯s the thing: there are dozens of people like me in this city, people who have figured out how to use their powers to kill people in creative ways. I don¡¯t want to see a Hero with your kind of power dying because some mundie thug with a gun snuck up behind you.¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡± I muttered.


    There were some more footsteps, and a woman entered the kitchen. She had long blonde hair, and she surveyed the kitchen with quick, jerking movements as if she was on some kind of stimulant.


    ¡°What was that sound?¡± the blonde woman asked, her cadence a bit too fast to be natural.


    ¡°I was just testing the new guy, Alice,¡± Frank said. ¡°Tell the others the food¡¯s here.¡±


    Without another word, Alice jogged out of the kitchen. I was surprised that she didn¡¯t trip moving at that speed.


    ¡°One more thing before the others get here, Macro-Kinetic,¡± Frank said. ¡°I am thirty-two years old, and I¡¯m the oldest active Hero in New Kinsington. The others died before they reached this age. Keep that in mind. No one will hold it against you if you want to be a normal person.¡±


    I wanted to say something sarcastic or crack a joke. Instead, I just said, ¡°Thank you.¡±

 Chapter 18 - [Antihero]

    Eventually, the woman named Alice returned to the kitchen, and two more individuals came with her. One was a woman in her mid-twenties. Compared to the others living in Ashburn Luxury Apartments, she seemed jarringly normal. Everyone else I had met over the past hour looked like a superhero who was off the clock, but this woman actually looked like a normal person.


    The man standing next to her, however, was the exact opposite. He stood at seven feet tall, even while stooped over, and his dimensions simply looked odd. His arms and legs were too long, and I could swear his left arm had one too many joints. In the shadowed kitchen, he looked like a monster from a horror movie.


    ¡°That¡¯s Alice; she can control time. That¡¯s Veronica; she can do magic. That¡¯s Vick; he¡¯s immortal,¡± Frank said, quickly introducing us. ¡°Guys, this is Kevin, the new spoon-bender.¡±


    The others waved to me hurriedly, though they seemed much more interested in the Chinese food than me. Vick reached into one of the bags and began voraciously consuming the food held within. The sound was horrifying.


    Moments later, the other three residents of Ashburn Luxury Apartments - Hana, Claire, and Jason - entered the kitchen. Hana carried a heavy hunk of metal, which she placed on the kitchen¡¯s island with a resounding clank.


    ¡°What happened to the island?¡± Hana asked as she noticed the cracks.


    ¡°Testing the new guy,¡± Frank answered gruffly.


    Hana sighed. ¡°New rule for everybody: don¡¯t make Kevin use his power in the building if you want it to remain standing.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s that strong, eh?¡± Jason asked.


    ¡°Hold on a second, was he?¡± Claire said.


    They were going to figure it out in a second, so I figured I might as well be the one to tell them.


    ¡°It was me. I killed the kaiju in the harbor.¡±


    Jason walked up to me and slapped me on the shoulder. ¡°Hell yeah, man! Way to make an entrance!¡±


    ¡°Well done,¡± Claire said, smiling.


    ¡°Imagine what you can do with that power,¡± Veronica said. ¡°You could wipe out the Brotherhood of Evil or the Ephemeral Troupe in a day.¡±


    I hadn¡¯t considered using my powers in that way before, but Veronica¡¯s suggestion made me visualize the carnage. City blocks could be leveled with a thought. Individuals could be rendered into ragged meat in a second.


    There was no one in the world - this one or the last - that I hated enough to kill. But what of obligation? If a man could only be defeated by me, was I obligated to kill him? Killing a human being wasn¡¯t something I could do without a thought. Not yet, anyway.


    ¡°Maybe,¡± I said, smiling to prevent the disgust I felt from appearing on my face. ¡°I don¡¯t know enough about those groups to know if they deserve to be wiped out.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Veronica asked.


    ¡°Amnesia,¡± Hana said briefly. ¡°He doesn¡¯t remember anything from before noon today.¡±


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    ¡°Well, they deserve it,¡± Veronica said. ¡°I won¡¯t say what they did right now, since we¡¯re eating. Their list of crimes gets¡­ visceral.¡±


    Vick turned as if someone had just called for him. Seeing his reaction, Veronica said, ¡°Not you, Viscera. Sorry.¡±


    Oh, right. Vick was short for Viscera. Seeing him up close was definitely a harrowing experience. He covered most of his body with loose-fitting clothes, but the small portions of his skin that could be seen made me want to vomit. Parts of his body had scales and others had feathers. Viscera was a poorly-made tapestry of human flesh and animal meat. Jesus, if he was what passed for a Hero in this city, I was terrified to meet the villains.


    ¡°Okay, good, it¡¯s all set,¡± Hana said once she finished using a kitchen knife to fiddle with the internal structure of the large metallic object sitting on the kitchen island. ¡°Jason, put your hands here, and hit the battery with twelve volts.¡±


    ¡°Clear out,¡± Jason said. He held his fingers out, and small sparks began to arc between them. Everyone took several steps away from the island as Jason placed his hands where Hana told him.


    ¡°Okay, it¡¯s charging,¡± Jason said, though I couldn¡¯t detect a change. He just stood there with his hands on the battery. ¡°How long do I have to keep this up, Hana? You know I don¡¯t like using my body as a circuit.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be such a baby,¡± Hana said. ¡°You¡¯ll be fine as long as you pass the charge through your abdominal muscles.¡±


    ¡°You try getting zapped in the stomach and tell me how it feels,¡± Jason muttered.


    ¡°Okay, that¡¯s enough,¡± Hana said. She took some pliers and tied two fuses together. There was a spark of electricity as the circuit was complete, and Jason pulled his hands away.


    ¡°Am I just a source of electricity to you?¡± Jason asked, though the smile on his face and the mirth in his voice made it clear that he was joking.


    ¡°Right now, you are,¡± Hana said as she lifted the battery and hurried out of the kitchen.


    With Hana out of the room, I looked around at the other six individuals present and asked, ¡°How many active Heroes are there in this city?¡±


    Frank answered. ¡°There¡¯s me, Deadeye, then there¡¯s,¡± he began pointing at the others present, ¡°Viscera, Severina, Countess, Thunderbolt, and Europa. Of course, there¡¯s also Sparrow. We¡¯re basically the B-list that handles stuff behind the scenes. The big names in this city are Kingfisher, Calypso, Akuma, and Seraph, though Kingfisher and Calypso aren¡¯t really active. I¡¯d say there are nine Heroes in this city that you¡¯d expect to see deal with crimes committed by Enhanced Humans.


    Frank scratched his chin, thinking about what to say next. ¡°Viscera and I aren¡¯t on the official rosters, and the A-listers spend most of their time doing¡­ I don¡¯t know¡­ other stuff. Realistically, when somebody calls 9-1-1 and says, ¡®a man made of rock just robbed me,¡¯ one of five people will show up: Severina, Countess, Thunderbolt, Europa, or Sparrow.¡±


    ¡°What about you and Viscera? What do you do?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m technically an Antihero, a vigilante. I go after whatever criminals I want, but the government doesn¡¯t pay me. Deadeye is technically a criminal with a warrant out for his arrest, but the government secretly approves of what I do, so nobody actually tries to arrest me. Viscera is the same way, but not by choice. He¡¯s just¡­ uh¡­ not marketable.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me? Marketable? What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°Right, you wouldn¡¯t know about that,¡± Frank said. ¡°To become an active Hero, you have to sign a merchandising deal with Kingfisher Industries. They¡¯ll typically sell replicas of your equipment, and you get a percentage of the profits. Replicas of Ragnar¡¯s axe sell like hotcakes.¡±


    ¡°But you don¡¯t do that?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Not anymore,¡± Frank said. ¡°I don¡¯t hold it against anybody else. After a few years, I couldn¡¯t bear looking at kids running around wearing my mask and pointing ¡®child-friendly¡¯ versions of my gun at each other.¡±


    Loudly, Jason cut in. ¡°He¡¯s selling himself short. Frank here is the only real hero in New Kinsington.¡±


    Viscera grunted in annoyance.


    ¡°No offense, buddy. You¡¯re definitely number two. What I mean to say is that Frank doesn¡¯t care what Kingfisher says. If an organization needs to be destroyed, he¡¯ll do it even if the government says not to.¡±


    ¡°Remember, I¡¯m also the poorest hero in this city,¡± Frank said with a faint smile on his face.


    ¡°And we love you for it,¡± Jason said.


    The lights flickered silently for a few seconds before turning on completely. A few of the people in the kitchen cheered, and I saw the kitchen clearly for the first time.

 Chapter 19 - [The Warlord Era]

    With the lights back on, I could finally see the people around me in detail. Almost every person present had a visible scar on their face or arms. Frank was the only one with a body unblemished by violence, though his eyes bore the weight of the years. Of course, Viscera was by far the most grotesque of the group. He looked like a stitched-together amalgam of various animals, and even the parts of him that were human more closely resembled a corpse than a normal human.


    Frank immediately placed his smartphone on the island and began using an outlet to charge it once the lights turned on.


    ¡°Hey, I was going to use that to charge my phone,¡± Claire complained once she saw Frank use the outlet.


    ¡°You snooze, you lose,¡± Frank said.


    ¡°So, there are about ten Heroes in New Kinsington. How many Villains are there?¡± I asked.


    ¡°About thirty,¡± Frank said. ¡°It fluctuates between thirty and fifty, and there are probably another hundred Enhanced Human criminals who still don¡¯t rise up to the level of Villain. Essentially, there are four gangs in this town that hold most of the Villains: the Brotherhood of Evil, the Torricelli Mafia, the Ephemeral Troupe, and the Dragon Triad. They control different parts of the city, and Sutton only wants the Heroes to get involved if they start fighting each other.¡±


    I squeezed my eyes shut and pinched the bridge of my nose. Every question I had answered gave birth to three more questions. I asked what the wall was for; now I don¡¯t know what a nightwalker is. I asked how many Villains are in the city; now I don¡¯t know what the Torricelli Mafia, the Ephemeral Troupe, and the Dragon Triad are. Somehow, I felt like I was losing ground on my journey to learn about this new world.


    ¡°What year did the first superpower appear?¡± I asked, hoping that a simple question would allow me to take a step toward broad understanding. The moment that the first superpower appeared would most likely be when this world¡¯s timeline diverged from mine.


    ¡°Uh,¡± Frank said, scratching his head. ¡°I¡¯m not sure. Mid-twentieth century, I guess.¡±


    Shrugging, Jason said, ¡°That¡¯s more of an academic question, and none of us went to college. Hana would know.¡±


    For the first time since she arrived in the kitchen, Alice looked up from her food, saying, ¡°The first superhero was Salmasius the Sorcerer, who first appeared in 1935. The Serum was created as an American weapons¡¯ development program in 1941, and the children of those who received the Serum were mutants most of the time.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve been doing your research, Countess,¡± Jason said, smiling. ¡°Yeah, that sounds right. They started mass-producing the Serum, and there were tens of millions of Enhanced Humans by the 1980s. That was a big cause of the Warlord Era.¡±


    ¡°Okay,¡± I said, my headache growing. I would have to just buy a history textbook and read that. At least now I knew that their timeline diverged in the year 1935, and I could reference events before that point without contradicting reality.


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    ¡°Thank you, I don¡¯t have any more questions today,¡± I said, concealing the frustration I felt that I couldn¡¯t nail down the facts of this world.


    With my focus shifted away from gaining information, my eyes fell on the food being consumed around me, and my mouth began to water. There was only one meal left on the counter, and it must have been meant for Sparrow. They must have ordered the food earlier.


    Wordlessly, Viscera grabbed a ceramic plate from a high drawer without standing up from his feet. He placed the plate in the empty space on the table in front of me before using his chopsticks to shovel some rice and chicken onto it.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± Frank said as he took some of his own food and moved it onto my plate. ¡°I was so distracted by our conversation that I forgot you didn¡¯t have any food.¡±


    One by one, everyone at the table, even Alice, gave me a portion of their food until I had the most food of everyone present. I don¡¯t know why, but that brief moment of unnecessary kindness touched me greatly.


    For the first time, I realized that the people of this world were actually capable of selflessness. None of them gained anything from giving me their food, but they did it without thinking. I had to look away to hide the tears welling up in my eyes.


    They told me to stay in Room 304. The apartment building was eight stories tall, but the top five floors were uninhabited. Each floor had more than a dozen rooms, and very few of those rooms housed anyone. The only other people living on the third floor were Frank, Jason, and Vick. The women all lived on the second floor. When I asked why things were set up this way, Frank said it was a rule that had been around since before he took up the name ¡°Deadeye¡± fifteen years ago.


    I wore some of Frank¡¯s old pajamas while I put my clothes in the wash. Frank was about the same height as me, but he was much wider in the chest and arms, so the pajamas hung loose from my body.


    I pushed down on the mattress in my room. It was firmer than I¡¯d like, but it was clean and had sheets. The room had electricity, AC, and running water. It was more than enough for me.


    With a sigh, I decided there was one last thing to do before I went to sleep. I took the stairs down to the second floor and spotted Veronica sitting on a sofa nearby. Approaching her, I asked, ¡°Do you know which room is Hana¡¯s?¡±


    She raised one eyebrow suggestively.


    ¡°I just need to talk to her,¡± I said.


    ¡°She¡¯s in Room 202,¡± Veronica said, pointing to a nearby room.


    ¡°Thanks.¡±


    I walked up to Room 202 and stood at the threshold. I waited there for several long seconds, building up my courage to knock on the door. It was better to rip off the band-aid now rather than later. I couldn¡¯t build my relationships with the Heroes of this city on a foundation of lies.


    I knocked on the door, and Hana immediately responded with an annoyed, ¡°What do you want?¡±


    I couldn¡¯t help but smile. People knocking on her door must have been a semi-regular occurrence.


    ¡°It¡¯s me, Kevin. I, uh, need to talk to you.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± Hana said, the harshness leaving her voice. ¡°I¡¯ll be out in a second.¡±


    Soon after, the door opened, and Hana appeared at the threshold. She wore a large shirt that ran down to her thighs, and I couldn¡¯t tell if she was wearing anything else. She might have been wearing shorts underneath, but I couldn¡¯t be sure.


    ¡°Hey, what¡¯s up?¡± Hana asked.


    ¡°I need to tell you something,¡± I said, taking a deep breath.


    ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°Ganymede is dead.¡±

 Chapter 20 - [First Day]

    ¡°What did you just say?¡± Hana said, taking a step back in shock. Her eyes widened, and her teeth clenched.


    ¡°Before we met in the Chateau, I saw a young man who called himself Ganymede get shot to death by an automated turret. I would have saved him, but he was surrounded by a mist that stopped me from using my telekinesis. I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    Hana stepped away from me as if she could unspeak the news with her posture alone. She scanned my eyes, hoping to find evidence that I was telling some kind of cruel joke. With an unblinking gaze, I denied her that small hope. I would not leave until I knew she understood the severity of what had happened.


    ¡°No, Jack,¡± she said, tears beginning to well up in her eyes. ¡°Are you sure?¡±


    ¡°I know death when I see it.¡±


    I clenched my teeth to prevent myself from saying something unwise. If I hadn¡¯t been there, the prisoners might have not tried to pass the thick red line and break out of the prison. Though those thoughts were going through my mind, I knew they should not be expressed out loud.


    ¡°If you want me to leave, I understand. I can find somewhere else to stay for the night.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Hana said in a trembling voice. ¡°Stay. Tell me what happened.¡±


    I stepped into her room, and she closed the door behind me. The complicated light fixtures and posters of bands that didn¡¯t exist in my world informed me that she had lived in that room for a while.


    A PC sat atop a table off to one corner of Hana¡¯s room, and an ergonomic chair was pushed against the table. I sat on the chair, and Hana sat on the bed. With us sitting in that way, I explained exactly what had happened at the Chateau.


    The entire time I was recounting the events during the breakout, I was ready to knock the building¡¯s wall down and escape into the darkened streets of New Kinsington. In hindsight, it probably would have been better to have this conversation on the first floor where my escape route was more direct.


    When I finished, Hana said nothing for more than a minute. She never broke down into tears, though I could tell her emotions were in turmoil.


    ¡°He was like a brother to me,¡± Hana said, more to herself than to me. ¡°But we all knew this was going to happen eventually. When he and Falcon fell in with the Torricellis, we knew it was only a matter of time before he was moved to a red threat rating, and one of us would have to kill him.¡±


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    ¡°So, what?¡± I asked, surprised that her sorrow had not transformed into anger toward me. This was supposed to be the part of the story where the superheroes began infighting, and it would only stop when a much greater threat appeared. ¡°Aren¡¯t you going to shout and swear at me? It was partially my fault. If I hadn¡¯t¡­¡±


    ¡°Would you prefer that?¡± Hana said with a sad smile. ¡°This isn¡¯t the first time someone I knew from the orphanage has died; this is the fourth. There are a million causes to every effect. If Heroes broke down every time we could have saved a life if we did something different, we¡¯d be crying all day. There are a million things I could have done to prevent Ganymede from ending up in the Chateau. His death isn¡¯t my fault, and it isn¡¯t your fault.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I said, looking down. ¡°Jesus! I¡¯m supposed to be the one comforting you!¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it,¡± Hana said, smiling and wiping tears out of her eyes. ¡°For somebody that was born eight hours ago, you¡¯re doing pretty well.¡±


    After a few more minutes of commiserating, I returned to my room. I planned to spend a while staring at the ceiling, thinking about my situation and what I wanted to do next. That was not in the cards, however, and I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. The fight with Electrozilla had taken more out of me than I expected.


    I was awoken by knocking on my door. Groggily, I opened my eyes and saw that the dim light of sunrise was just starting to color the sky. It was probably six or seven in the morning.


    I must have slept for more than eight hours, but I had to take a few seconds to shake off the remnants of sleep that hung over me like a shroud. When I opened the door to my room, I saw a man dressed in tactical gear with a pistol holstered at his hip and a rifle slung across his back. I jumped backwards, afraid that the man was there to arrest me, but I soon recognized the man as Frank.


    ¡°Hey, Frank,¡± I said, my voice hoarse and quiet.


    ¡°When I¡¯m in costume, it¡¯s Deadeye,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s your first day. Come on, let¡¯s get to work.¡±


    ¡°Just let me get dressed,¡± I said, yawning.


    ¡°I¡¯m leaving in fifteen minutes. When you come down, meet me at the back entrance.¡±


    ¡°Sure, sure.¡±


    I ran some water over my body to wash off the sweat before putting my clothes from the day before back on. When I had some money, I would buy more than one set of clothes. Before seven minutes had passed, I was standing in the lobby of the apartment building. It took me another two minutes to find the rear entrance.


    Deadeye was standing in a hallway that was on the opposite side of the main entrance. There were no doors to be found, so I didn¡¯t understand how this was the rear entrance. As I approached, Deadeye pressed down on a brick in the wall, and a hidden passageway opened up in the ground, revealing a long staircase heading downward.


    Wordlessly, he began walking down the staircase, and I followed him.

 Chapter 21 - [Twenty Thousand]

    For an underground passage, the hallway was much longer than I expected. We walked in silence for nearly a minute, and there was still no end in sight.


    ¡°Where are we going?¡± I asked.


    ¡°The Ashburn Police Precinct. There¡¯s some paperwork you have to do before they¡¯ll let you go out and fight criminals.¡±


    ¡°You know¡­ I always imagined this superhero stuff to be more like what you do. Like, I figured I¡¯d be sitting in a car, listening to a police scanner, and then I¡¯d spring into action when the police need help.¡±


    Deadeye chuckled before saying, ¡°No, it doesn¡¯t work that way. The police are enough to deal with normal crime. Our job is to stop crimes committed by Enhanced Humans, and that job is enough to keep us all working overtime. One percent of all people are Enhanced Humans, meaning there are twenty thousand of us in this city.¡±


    ¡°Twenty thousand¡­¡±


    ¡°Yeah, eighteen thousand of them are Level 1s, but I¡¯m all the evidence you need to know that Level 1s can be dangerous. Here, take this.¡±


    As we walked, we passed by a subtle niche in the concrete wall of the passageway. I wouldn¡¯t have noticed it if Deadeye hadn¡¯t pointed it out. The niche held about a dozen small white plastic half-masks that covered the nose and eyes. I was reminded of the boxes of surgical masks that every house and business had in the early 2020s. Deadeye reached into the niche and held the mask out for me to take.


    I put the mask on over my eyes, and I was surprised to find that it was more comfortable than I expected. The inside of the mask was lined with a soft cloth that felt nice on my skin. It wasn¡¯t a cheap Halloween mask meant to be worn once for a few hours. This was a well-made mask that was meant to be worn as a uniform for eight hours a day every day.


    Deadeye reached into a bag on his hip and pulled out an identical mask and put it on. It looked more like an opera mask than a superhero mask, and I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if this type of mask was used in a local showing of the Phantom of the Opera.


    We kept walking. To break the silence, I said, ¡°Hey, uh, did Hana tell you about Ganymede?¡±


    ¡°When we¡¯re out of the apartment, stick to codenames. Yes, I heard. These things happen. I¡¯m not about to lose sleep over the death of a guy who tried to kill me three times.¡±


    There was no love lost there, apparently. Deadeye didn¡¯t really strike me as the ¡°orphan¡± type. Even if he had gone through New Hope Orphanage, he must have been fifteen years older than Ganymede and Sparrow. They wouldn¡¯t have been there at the same time.


    ¡°I see,¡± I said quietly. ¡°Why do Heroes wear masks? I mean, the cops don¡¯t wear them.¡±


    ¡°Basically, we don¡¯t want to be attacked in our sleep. Unlike normal criminals, Villains have a tendency to form grudges against particular Heroes,¡± Deadeye said.


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    We finally reached the end of the passageway and reached a staircase heading upward. At the end of the staircase, there was a door that led out to the basement level of a parking garage. Faint rays of light filtered into this floor of the garage from the upper floors. When I looked back at the door, I saw that the words ¡°EMPLOYEES ONLY¡± were written on it in large letters.


    At first glance, the parking garage seemed abandoned. There were only a few vehicles that I could see, and all three of them were covered with tarps. We approached one of the tarp-covered vehicles, and Deadeye pulled off the covering, revealing a large armored car underneath. The car was painted pure black, except for the crude drawing of a gun¡¯s crosshairs spray-painted on the side.


    The passenger door opened, and Jason Jacobi stepped out. He was wearing a superhero costume made of tight black spandex, a golden belt on his waist, a long black cape hanging from his shoulders, and a golden lightning bolt on his chest. Covering his face was an ornate golden mask that started at his eyes before curling upward toward his forehead.


    In terms of color palette, Thunderbolt¡¯s outfit looked very similar to Deadeye¡¯s, though that was where the similarities ended. Every aspect of Deadeye¡¯s outfit served a purpose, whereas Thunderbolt¡¯s outfit more closely fitted my idea of a superhero costume. It made sense, I thought. Deadeye¡¯s relatively weak power forced him to rely more on weapons while Thunderbolt could alway fall back on his power.


    ¡°Get in,¡± Deadeye said gruffly, and I quickly got into one of the large vehicle¡¯s many back seats.


    Wordlessly, Deadeye got into the driver¡¯s seat while Thunderbolt got into the passenger¡¯s seat and began driving. As we drove through that parking garage, I had to stop myself from laughing. The masks and weapons made me feel like we were about to go rob a bank rather than stop crime.


    The large armored vehicle drove in a wide spiral, slowly moving upward. We passed by the exit on the ground floor and kept moving without stopping.


    ¡°Uh, where are we going?¡± I asked.


    ¡°We have a few minutes to kill before the precinct allows visitors,¡± Deadeye said.


    ¡°We¡¯re gonna get some training in,¡± Thunderbolt said, raising his arms into a boxing stance to punctuate his statement.


    Deadeye¡¯s van stopped at the third floor of the parking garage. We dismounted, and I noticed that this entire floor of the garage had been turned into a gym of some kind. Several punching bags hung from the ceiling, and a wide selection of weights were laid out on the ground.


    ¡°Today, we¡¯ll focus on you, Macro-Kinetic,¡± Deadeye said, looking at me. ¡°Since yesterday, have you thought of a way to defend yourself more effectively?¡±


    Was that really possible? Honestly, I had very little understanding of my own power. I had been using my power entirely through my hands, and I didn¡¯t even know if that was necessary. Certainly, there was a better way for me to defend myself than holding my hand out and catching any incoming attacks with telekinesis.


    ¡°Give me a second,¡± I said, thinking.


    What could I do to stop somebody like Deadeye from killing me? I would have to encapsulate myself entirely in my psychic barrier. Theoretically, I could clench my hand and hold myself in the center, but then Deadeye could just attack me from above.


    I remembered the Mandeville Limit and the sensation I felt when I pushed against Electrozilla. My telekinesis remained in place even as it was destroyed by that limit. If I squeezed my telekinetic hand around my body, that should protect my body from all directions.


    ¡°I think I have something for this.¡±


    I clenched my teeth, widened my stance, and prepared to cover myself in a telekinetic barrier. Either I was about to gain a useful new skill, or I was about to squish myself like a bug.

 Chapter 22 - [Barrier]

    An invisible hand clamped down on my body, and I was not messily killed. I let out a sigh of relief as I felt the feedback in my hand. That same warbling sensation coursed through my palm like I had sat on it for an hour. Two forces, my projected hand and the Mandeville Limit firing out from my cells, pushed against each other and held there in tension.


    ¡°Okay, I think I have it,¡± I said, smiling.


    ¡°Check your feet,¡± Deadeye said quickly, pointing down at the ground beneath me.


    I looked down and saw that the ground under my feet was starting to bend and morph like it was being scooped away by a shovel. As this happened, the asphalt began to glow orange as the immense pressure of my telekinesis bore down on it.


    Frantically, I adjusted the grip on my own body. After a few seconds, I was able to push the barrier up enough that it was no longer pushing against the ground. The downside of this was, of course, that I would not be able to protect my feet with the barrier.


    ¡°Now I have it,¡± I said once the ground stopped eroding before my eyes. I had dug myself nearly a foot into the ground. If the floor had been much thinner, I would have fallen into a lower floor of the parking garage. ¡°I can¡¯t cover my feet, though.¡±


    ¡°Is that right?¡± Deadeye asked. He reached into a pouch and threw a ball bearing at me. The object came within a palm¡¯s breadth of my skin, and then it disappeared in an explosive crack of motion. It flew off at such a fast speed that I couldn¡¯t even begin to guess where it went.


    Deadeye and Thunderbolt flinched and stepped back. As far as we could tell, the ball bearing shot into the ceiling, but that was just an approximation based on sound.


    ¡°Wow!¡± Thunderbolt shouted in surprise and awe. An excited smile brightened his expression. ¡°Do you think that thing can stop a lightning bolt?¡±


    ¡°Probably, but I¡¯d rather not test my barrier out while I¡¯m standing behind it,¡± I said.


    ¡°Let¡¯s get to testing, then,¡± Thunderbolt said, rubbing his hands together excitedly.


    Over the next few minutes, we tested my psychic barrier out. This brief period of experimentation granted me indispensable insights into my power. I found that my barrier was much less stable when I coated my body in it. Deadeye shot a few bullets at me while my full-body barrier was up, and they all pinged off dangerously. I was completely safe, but the other two risked the possibility of being struck with a bullet fragment.


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    With my barrier projected outward, I had Thunderbolt strike it with a bolt of lightning. He spent a few seconds charging the bolt. While he did it, the lights of the parking garage flickered, and I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.


    After those long seconds passed, Thunderbolt pointed a finger toward my psychic barrier, and several crackling bolts of electricity fired forward. Several of the electric prongs struck the barrier and were halted, but most of the bolts missed the barrier completely, striking the ceiling and floor of the parking garage.


    ¡°Did the attack go through?¡± Thunderbolt asked, looking at me for confirmation. I guessed that, from his perspective, he couldn¡¯t really tell.


    ¡°My barrier stopped the bolts that hit it, but I really wouldn¡¯t want to be on the receiving-end of that attack,¡± I said. If I had been standing behind the barrier, my head would have been less than two feet away from a bolt of electricity.


    ¡°Your accuracy still sucks, Thunderbolt,¡± Deadeye chided.


    ¡°Give me some slack, old-timer.¡± Thunderbolt fired back. ¡°The System has been giving me the crowd control jobs ever since I started. I¡¯ve gotten really good at suppressing hordes of Triad and Torricelli goons, but I¡¯m not so good at fighting single-targets.¡±


    Thunderbolt and Deadeye kept talking about their training regimens and Thunderbolt¡¯s need to increase his, but I was too focused on my own thoughts to listen. I wondered if I could use that writhing telekinetic barrier for offensive purposes. When I pushed the barrier against my body, it acted like a psychic buzzsaw. If I hit something while my body was like that, the object would be completely destroyed.


    I walked up to one of the punching bags and got close enough to touch it with my hand. Looking over at Deadeye and Thunderbolt, I asked, ¡°Is it okay if I destroy this?¡±


    ¡°Sure, just don¡¯t make a habit of it,¡± Deadeye said.


    I pulled my arm back, clenching my fist. As my fist clenched, I willed my telekinetic hand to clamp against my arm. My fist came forward, and I struck the punching bag. Once my fist came within a palm¡¯s length of the bag, it began to disintegrate.


    Without resistance, my hand passed through the empty space that had held a punching bag seconds before. I saw as the fabric holding the bag together unstitched and scattered across the room a moment before a torrent of sand ejected outward with great force. One half of the punching bag flew upward and grazed the ceiling while the other half crashed into the ground.


    I looked down at my bandaged fist and gingerly unclenched my hand. Despite the ripped sand and destroyed fabric around me, my hand had been completely untouched. I didn¡¯t know when I would be able to use that technique, but it would be good to have it in my arsenal. It would be useful if I had to destroy objects with a bit more precision.


    ¡°Well done, Macro-Kinetic,¡± Deadeye said.


    To Deadeye¡¯s right, Thunderbolt turned quickly toward me. He held a phone in his hand, and he looked at it intensely. Concern grew on his face, and he looked up after a few seconds with fear and anger coloring his expression.


    ¡°Guys,¡± Thunderbolt said, his tone grim. ¡°The System just sent a notification. Yesterday afternoon, every prisoner in the Chateau broke out.¡±