《I Thought I'm a Normal Person》 Im the only Anomaly "Haaaa" *fwip* Jack sighed as he flipped the sign on the convenience store door to "Closed." Another busy day, another cold night. His arms felt like lead weights, heavy with the fatigued of a sixteen hour shift. Every step sent a jolt of pain through his feet, the soles throbbing in protest. And his brain felt like mush. He stretched his back, hearing the familiar crack of his spine. Another grueling sixteen-hour shift in the books, all for a paycheck that barely kept his debts from suffocating him. He tried to count on his fingers all the things he have to pay off. But he gave up halfway, he can''t think straight, and his brain started to hurt. "Haaaaah!" He sighed again loudly this time. He stand there infront of the closed store for awhile, his hands akimbo and his head tilted up looking at the dark sky. Trying to find inside him the will to walk to go home. Suddenly a group of noisy walking teenagers goofing and playing around caught his attention. Their laughter and shouts filling the air while playing with their super powers. He can feel something within him rose. ''Tch'' He tried to extinguish the fire that started to burn. Then he move on and started to walk to the opposite direction of the teenagers. "Still no superpowers, huh?" He muttered to himself, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his worn-out blue hoodie. When he reach the dark alley, his steps quickened, not because he is afraid of the dark. Just wanting to go home faster and get some rest already. His worn out shoes hitting the rough pavement. The air outside was cold, but he barely noticed. Then he tried to think of something else in his mind. "I think I really am an anomally." In the world where having superpowers is the norm, he was the only one without. At sixteen, he had excitedly awaited for his powers to awaken. At nineteen, he had still hoped. By twenty-two, he had given up. Every single person on Earth awakened their abilities at sixteen. Some developed super speed. Others could shoot lasers from their eyes. And then there were the weird ones¡ªlike Melinda Chu from his old high school. She could control every single strand of hair on her body. And I mean everything.. even the smallest one. Ahem. Jack shuddered at the memory. That had been a disturbing discovery during gym class. But him? Nothing. Zilch. Not even a measly little power to heat up his cold hands in the winter. Or even a little light on his fingers to light up the alley. While others trained, fought, and found their place in the grand freak show of life, Jack was left behind, powerless, broke, and utterly alone. No parents, no friends, just a mountain of debt and an endless cycle of soul-crushing jobs. He had learned to rely on his wits and resourcefulness, but it was a poor substitute for real power. Jack took a deep breath and stared up at the night sky before entering his apartment building. "No point whining about it," he said to no one in particular. Complaining didn''t pay the rent. *creak* *creak* As he walked at the creaking stairs, a swooshing sound can be heard from upstairs. He immediately braced himself next to the stairwalls like it was a common occurence. *swoooooosh* One of his neighbors, with super speed came swooshing down the stairs. His hair and his glasses flew of a bit. He took out his phone from his back pocket and looked at the time on his phone. Illuminating his face with his phone''s lcd light. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. It''s 10:05 in the evening, he waited and counted 60 seconds. 10:06. A swooshing sound came from downstairs. Here he comes, he thought. *swooooosh* "Hey neighbor" A voice so fast he even thought it was an illusion. "Hey" He said back to the wind. "Haaaa" He sighed again and continue on his way up. *creak* *creak* He took his key out and opened the door to his apartment. His apartment¡ªif he could even call it that¡ªwas a single room with a bathroom barely bigger than a closet. He took off his shoes. The yellow walls were peeling, the ceiling had a suspicious leak leaving it''s mark. And the neighbors on both sides were loud in ways he didn''t want to think about. He collapsed onto his mattress, staring blankly at the cracked ceiling, not bothering to changed out of his clothes. Most people in his position would dream about a better life. Winning the lottery. Discovering a hidden superpower. Becoming rich, famous, powerful. Jack didn''t bother. His fingers brushed against the remote control under his pillow. He flipped the small tv on. Turned the volume down. And settled for news channel. Hoping the news reporters voice would lull him to sleep. The news report on the tv mentioned a recent rescue mission by the Superpowered Emergency Response Team or SERT. Then he wondered why some people''s powers were so much stronger and different than the others. Was it genetics, environment or just luck? Then what about me? He daydreamed of ''what ifs''. But realized that daydreaming was a luxury for people who had time. For people who weren''t one missed payment away from being homeless. His eyelids grew heavy. Sleep was the only real escape he had. Then, something strange happened. The darkness of sleep didn''t come. Instead, he found himself standing in the middle of a vast white void. A blank, endless space stretching infinitely in all directions. "The hell?" Jack muttered, looking down at himself. He was still wearing his ratty hoodie and jeans. Everything felt real¡ªthe floor beneath his feet, the air in his lungs, the way his voice echoed slightly in the emptiness. Then, words floated in front of him. What would you like to create? Jack blinked. "Create?" The words shimmered, waiting for his response. He frowned. This had to be a dream. Maybe he had finally cracked under the stress. But... why not play along? "Uh... I dunno. A chair?" He said uncertainly. A simple wooden chair materialized in front of him. It looked normal enough. Jack hesitantly reached out and touched it. Solid. Real. His breath caught. "...No way." His mind raced. If this was real, if this was his ability¡ª He could create anything? His heart pounded. A world of possibilities unfolded before him. Money, food, a house, a¡ª Then, the chair exploded. Jack screamed and stumbled backward as the shattered remains of the chair scattered in every direction. But before they could hit the ground, they simply vanished, as if they had never existed in the first place. The floating words flickered. Your imagination is¡­ limited. Try again. Jack swallowed. "Oh, great. My superpower is being bad at my superpower." His mind had gone blank. All this time, he thought he had no ability. But he did. And it was something incredible. There was just one huge problem. He had no clue what to do with it. Time to Get Creative! Jack sat cross-legged in the endless white void, staring at the floating words in front of him. He didn''t know how long or how much time has passed. What would you like to create? The air was stale and silent, with no scent or sound to distract him. It was such a simple question, yet his mind was completely blank. For years, he had never let himself daydream. Never wasted time imagining things that would never happen. But why now? And how? He asked himself. The questions swirled in his mind like a nagging itch. What changed? He thought back the events of yesterday and the other day but try as he might he had no idea what triggered this sudden shift. Should i really be wasting my time thinking why? He wondered, frustration creeping in. He pulled his hair with his two hands. And change the way he sat. But I.. His gaze drifted back to the words floating in front of him. What would you like to create? The simplicity of the question mocked him. I''ve never thought of creating things. Never allowed himself to indulge in fantasies. And now, when it actually mattered, when he could bring his thoughts to life¡ªhe had nothing. The realization was both exhilarating and terrifying. "Okay, focus," he muttered, rubbing his temples. The gentle pressure of his fingers on his skin helped calm his racing thoughts. "Start small." He cleared his throat, the sound echoing in the void. The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. "Uh¡­ a sandwich?" A plain-looking sandwich popped into existence in front of him. White bread, a single slice of ham, and a sad smear of mayo. The aroma of fresh bread wafted up, making his stomach growl with hunger. Jack picked it up, half expecting it to vanish like the chair. When it didn''t, he took a hesitant bite. His face twisted. "Ugh. This is the most basic sandwich I''ve ever tasted." It will not explode inside my stomach, will it? He gulped, his throat dry and constricted. The sandwich felt like a lump in his mouth, making it hard for him to swallow. He hesitated, his esophagus spasming slightly as he tried to force the sandwich down. The dryness in his throat made his tongue feel sticky, and he could feel his heart beating slightly faster with anxiety. The flavors were dull and uninspired, like something a kid would throw together when their parents weren''t home. Jack sighed and threw the rest of the sandwich away¡ªonly for it to explode into nothingness the moment it left his hand. He flinched, the sudden movement sending a jolt through his body. "Okay, I need to stop doing that." The words in the air flickered again. Your imagination is¡­ limited. Try again. Jack groaned, the sound echoing off the void. "Yeah, yeah, I got it. I''m not creative. Thanks for the reminder." But that was the real problem, wasn''t it? His entire life, he had only ever focused on surviving. Work, eat, sleep, repeat. He never had hobbies, never watched movies, never read books¡ªbecause those things didn''t pay the bills. Now he had a power that could literally reshape reality¡­ and he had no clue how to use it. Jack ruffled his already messy hair, the motion releasing a faint scent of shampoo. "Okay, let''s think. What''s something useful? Something that won''t explode?" Jack''s eyes narrowed as he concentrated. "Oh how about water?" A clear glass of water materialized in front of him. Jack''s eyes widened as he picked it up, feeling the cool condensation on the glass. He brought it to his lips, taking a cautious sip. The water was refreshing, with a hint of sweetness. Jack''s throat, still dry from the earlier sandwich, welcomed the relief. He took another sip, feeling a sense of accomplishment. "Yes! Something that won''t explode!" Another idea hit him. He snapped his fingers, the sound crisp in the silence. His eyes twinkling. "A hundred dollars!" A crumpled hundred-dollar bill appeared in his hand. His eyes widened, the thrill of excitement coursing through his veins. This¡­ this could change everything. If he could just make more money¡ª but the bill vanished instantly right before his eyes. Objects created must have a clear mental blueprint. Your concept of ''money'' is unstable. Try again. Jack''s jaw clenched, his teeth grinding in frustration. "What the hell does that even mean? It''s money! It''s just paper with numbers on it!" But as soon as he said that, he understood. He didn''t actually know what made money money. The government, the economy, serial numbers, security features. He had never thought about any of that. In his mind, money was just something that existed, something he never had enough of. His power couldn''t just pull things from thin air. It needed details. Structure. It needed him to actually think. Then what about the water? Jack flopped onto his back, staring at the endless white sky. The silence was almost deafening, punctuated only by the sound of his own breathing. "So what you''re saying is¡­ I suck at imagining things." The words in the air didn''t respond. Jack let out a long sigh, the sound carrying away into the void. He looked at the glass still in his hand. He had created it without thinking about the intricacies of molecular structure or the chemical composition of water. Yet, it was still real. Still refreshing. A realization dawned on him. Maybe his power wasn''t just about creating things from scratch. Maybe it was also about replicating things he already knew, already understood. The water was something familiar, something he had experienced countless times before. His power had drawn upon that familiarity, creating something authentic. Jack''s eyes sparkled with excitement. This changed everything. He didn''t need to be an expert on everything. He just needed to understand the things he wanted to create. But his excitement got cut off. "But these are all just theories for now, I have to explore and experiment more to understand.." Then as if he made up his mind, he cracked his knuckles. "Alright. If money is too complicated¡­ then let''s try something simpler." He sat up and took a deep breath, the air filling his lungs. "A baseball." A baseball appeared in front of him. Jack picked it up, feeling the familiar weight and texture of the leather. The stitching was rough beneath his fingertips, and the smell of fresh leather wafted up, transporting him to memories of summer afternoons. He squeezed the ball, waiting for it to disappear. It didn''t. A grin tugged at his lips. "Okay. Progress." He tossed the ball in the air and caught it. Still real. No explosions. No weird messages. Then a thought hit him. If this power really worked¡­ what if he tried something bigger? Jack stood up, determination sparking in his chest. The void seemed to stretch out before him, full of endless possibilities. He wasn''t going to waste this. If he could create anything, he was going to make sure he never struggled again. His power had one condition: his imagination. So all he had to do was get better at imagining. "Alright," Jack said, rolling his shoulders. The motion released a faint crackle in his joints. "Time to get creative." Youre Imagination is Trash Jack now stood in the endless white void, arms crossed, staring at the floating words in front of him. What would you like to create? The air was still stale and silent, with no scent or sound, it''s making him a bit antsy. He felt like he''s under the water. "Alright," He muttered to himself, shaking his head for any negativity, the sound echoing off the void. "I got a glass of water and baseball last time. That means I just need to take it up a notch." *crack* He cracked his knuckles, the sharp sound making him feel more focused. He took a deep breath, feeling the air fill his lungs. "I want¡­ a sword!" He declared, his voice firm, his eyes full of determination. A sword shimmered into existence in front of him, its blade glinting in the faint light of the void. Jack''s eyes widened as he reached out, his fingers closing around the hilt. It felt solid, the metal cool against his skin. He lifted it, feeling the weight distribute evenly in his hand. *snap* The moment he lifted it, the entire sword broke in half like a cheap plastic toy, the sound echoing through the void. Jack yelped as the blade crumbled into dust, disappearing into nothingness. *clang* The hilt slipped from his fingers, falling to the ground with a faint clang. The words flickered again. Your imagination is¡­ lacking. Try again. Jack''s eye twitched. "Oh, screw you..." Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. He muttered, his voice laced with frustration. But before he could even finish the sentence, a tiny screw materialized in front of him, followed by another, and another, and another. *click* *clack* *clatter* *clang* The sound of clicking and clattering filled the air as the screws multiplied, each one dropping to the ground with a tiny clang. *click click* *clack clack* *clatter clatter* *clang clang* The screws kept coming, littering the void with a sea of shiny metal. Jack''s eyes widened in horror as he stumbled backward, tripping over the growing pile of screws. "Hang on, hang on! What''s going on? Stop! Stop!" He yelled, throwing up his hands in a futile attempt to halt the screw onslaught. But the screws just kept coming, pouring in like a tidal wave of metal. Jack''s frustration simmered over into panic as he danced around the void, trying to avoid the screw storm. "Ah, I''m sorry! I''m sorry! Please stop!" His voice hoarse from shouting Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the screw onslaught stopped. The silence was almost deafening, punctuated only by the sound of Jack''s ragged breathing. "Whew," he muttered, wiping the sweat from his brow. Frustration still simmered beneath his skin, threatening to boil over at any moment. This is ridiculous. He had a reality-bending power, but it felt like he was trying to program a computer using a tomato. The words floating before his eyes seemed to mock him, their calm, serene presence a stark contrast to his own frazzled emotions. Jack glared at the words, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. He didn''t say anything, unsure if he might have hurt its feelings. Yeah, that was a thing now ¨C he had to worry about hurting the feelings of a mysterious, omnipotent force that controlled his reality-bending power. It was absurd. "I think it even tried to hit me with screws," He muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. Jack rubbed his sore ears, remembering the screw that had whizzed past his it. It even made him bled. That was close. Too close. Jack''s eyes locked onto the words, a spark of defiance igniting within him. "You know, I don''t think I like your sense of humor." But the words did not respond. "Why don''t you just talk to me and explain instead of being like that?" He found himself asking. Geez, I think I''ve gone mad! "Alright, let''s try again," He grumbled, running a hand through his hair. "A very cool sword. Like, a katana. Or something badass." A new sword appeared, its blade gleaming in the faint light. Jack picked it up cautiously, feeling the weight and balance of the sword. This one didn''t break immediately, which was a good start. *whooshpp* He swung it experimentally, the blade slicing through the air with a soft whoosh¡ª It bent like rubber, the sound more like a sad flop. Jack stared at the floppy, wobbly excuse for a weapon in his hands. "What¡­ the hell¡­ is this?" *swingpp* He gave it another swing, and the blade flopped around like a wet noodle, the motion almost comical. The words flickered. Your concept of ''badass'' is undefined. Try again. Jack let out a strangled groan, frustration boiling over. "You have GOT to be shitting me!" This was beyond ridiculous. Every other person on Earth had powers that made sense¡ªstrength, flight, fire, teleportation. Meanwhile, Jack had the power of imagination¡­ and he sucked at using it. "This is all because I never daydreamed, huh?" He muttered bitterly, pacing back and forth across the void. "I never let myself think about cool stuff, and now I can''t even make a basic sword right." He clenched his fists, feeling the familiar surge of anger and frustration. He stopped pacing, his eyes narrowing as he thought. When people imagined swords, what did they picture? Fantasy swords? Samurai blades? Maybe something futuristic? He clenched his fists. The problem wasn''t the power. It was him. He needed inspiration. He needed references. He needed to¡­ wait. Jack froze, a spark of hope igniting within him. "If I can create things¡­ can I create something that helps me be more creative?" He turned to the floating words, hope sparking in his chest. But it was still the same words. Not answering and not suggesting anything. As if it''s just watching him. "I want¡­ a book about the coolest weapons in history!" A thick book popped into existence in his hands, its cover embossed with detailed designs. Jack flipped through it, eyes scanning the pages. His hope is rising. It was filled with detailed illustrations too and descriptions of legendary weapons¡ªdaggers, knife, excalibur, katana blades, giant war hammers, futuristic plasma swords. Jack grinned, feeling a sense of excitement. "Okay, this is what I needed." He focused, taking in the details of one of the swords in the book. "I want¡­ this sword!" A shimmering blade materialized in front of him. Jack reached out, his heart pounding with anticipation¡ª then the handle fell off. The blade hovered in the air for a second before turning to dust. Jack''s grin vanished, replaced by a look of utter frustration. The floating words flickered. Your imagination is¡­ still trash. Try again. Jack threw his head back and screamed, the sound echoing off the void. Something has changed.. Jack''s eyes snapped open. "Huh" For a moment, he just lay there, frozen. Staring at the familiar stain-marked ceiling of his apartment. The dull yellow paint seemed to closed in on him, and the faint scent of cigarettes seeping through the cracks coming from his neighbor''s apartment assaulted his nose. *grrrrrowl* Making his stomach churn. The stale air that filled his nostrils on the void seems nonexistent. His room was still shrouded in darkness, a contrast to the bright light of the white void. The only light is coming from the faint glow of his closed bathroom door, casting an eerie feeling on the foot of his bed. The ceiling light above him was off. His heart is racing, his mind still buzzing with frustration, he felt like he was stuck in a nightmare from which he couldn''t wake up. He just lay there, trying to catch his breath, trying to shake off the vivid memory of the white void and the infuriating words that seemed to mock him. But the memory lingered, refusing to be shaken off, and Jack''s frustration simmered just below the surface, waiting to boil over again. He groaned, rubbing his temples, feeling the familiar ache of a tension headache. And the small noises coming from the tv that he forgot to turn off last night added to his misery. That¡­ that dream¡ªif it was a dream¡ªfelt too real. The void, the floating words, the horrible realization that he sucked at imagining things. But now, here he was, back in his rundown apartment, back to reality. *creak* *creak* *squeak* Jack rolled onto his side, and his mattress creaked in protest, the springs squeaking beneath him. The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. He reach for the remote and turn the small tv off. He glanced at his alarm clock, the red numbers glowing in the dim light. 5:27 AM. Three minutes before it was set to go off. "Great" Jack muttered, his voice laced with sarcasm. "Another exciting day of barely surviving." He shut his eyes again, willing himself back to sleep, but his brain refused to cooperate. His mind kept wandering back to the dream, to the feeling of powerlessness and frustration. *BEEP* *BEEP* *BEEP* The alarm clock shattered the silence, and Jack smacked it off the nightstand. *smack* *thunk* It hit the floor with a dull thunk, the sound echoing through the apartment. *creak* He dragged himself out of bed. Jack tried to turn the ceiling light on, but it only flickered. Then he remembered that it''s not working anymore since the other day. "Right, I totally forgot" He sighed and shuffled to the tiny bathroom instead. "Gotta dip into my small savings" Blinking from the sudden bright light of the bathroom, he took a moment to adjust his eyes. The cold bathroom floor sent a shiver through his feet. He trudged to the sink, his body sluggish with the weight of waking up. The sink was cracked, with a faint brown stain around the drain. And the mirror had a spiderweb of fractures in the corner. Making his reflection look distorted, like a funhouse mirror image. He turned on the faucet, and the water took at least a minute to turn from brown to mostly clear. *splash* *clank* The sound of pipes clanking and groaning in the walls. Jack stared at his reflection, taking in the dark circles under his brown eyes. His messy black hair sticking up in every direction, and his face, looked perpetually exhausted. With a few hint of stubble showing under his chin. "Yup. Still me," He muttered, shaking his head. No sudden superpowers. No reality-bending abilities. Just the same old Jack. *splash* *splash* When the water became clear, he washed his face. He rubs thoroughly as if to erase everything that''s on his mind. The water is cold, making his face feel numb. Then proceeded in brushing his teeth. After he was done, he look one more time on the bathroom mirror. But he''s not seeing anything clearly, his vision is a bit blurry. "Huh?" Then he remembered he''s not wearing his glasses. He reached for his towel hanging next to the mirror and dry his face. Then looked at the mirror again. He squinted, his eyes focusing on something in his ears that caught his attention. "What''s this??" A reddened scratch. The angry line still looked sore. "Now where did I get that?" He wondered for a bit but he''s still clueless. "Oh well, I''ll just put some band aid on it later." Then he turned and left the bathroom. He got dressed in the same clothes he wore nearly every day¡ªa faded hoodie, worn jeans, and scuffed sneakers. No point trying to look good when nobody cared. *growwwlll* His stomach growled, reminding him that he needed to eat. He checked the fridge, finding it empty except for a half-empty bottle of ketchup. He checked the cabinets, finding a single pack of instant noodles staring sadly back at him. "Yum" Jack sighed dryly, boiling some water and pouring it over the noodles. He sat at his tiny table, slurping them down while scrolling through his phone. He reached for his eye glasses that''s on the table and put it on. News articles, random social media posts, people showing off their powers like it was no big deal. The glasses slide off his face slowly. A girl summoning a swirling vortex of water. "Hmmm" He reach his fingers to his glasses and slides them back up. A guy transforming into a humanoid lion. *slurp* A sixteen year old kid creating a miniature sun that hovered above his palm. Jack scrolled past all of it, feeling a familiar pang of jealousy and frustration. It was just noise. A constant reminder that he didn''t belong in this world of freakish abilities. By the time he finished his sad excuse for breakfast, it was time to leave for work. Another sixteen-hour shift. Another day of dealing with rude customers, crappy pay, and a boss who acted like breathing was a privilege. Jack grabbed his bag, stuffed his phone inside, and opened the door. He put the keys in his pant''s backpocket. The bright sunlight outside made him squint on his eyeglasses. *beep* *honk* *honk* *chattering* The sounds of the city¡ªcar horns, chatter, sirens in the distance¡ªhit him like a slap in the face. Just another normal day. And yet¡­ As he stepped outside, he couldn''t shake the feeling that something was different. That something had changed. Worst Imaginable Day Ever Jack had dealt with all kinds of terrible customers. Young and old. Male or females. Well, he''s been working at this convenience store for two years now. So that''s a given. ''Whoop de whoop'' He thought dryly. Drunk guys stumbling in at 3 AM demanding lottery tickets. Teenagers trying to shoplift snacks using their superpowers like he wouldn''t notice. Karen-types who threw a fit if their discount card didn''t apply. Asking to talk to his manager, that was non-existent. He was the manager, the cashier, and the one who fixes and manages the groceries, all roll into one. The store owner is a cheapskate. The type that would like to exploit a college dropout and an anomally like him. Taking advantage of his only employee''s situation. In his case... An orphan with no one to turn to, and Jack was the perfect target. But this? This was a first. "Alright, listen up, glasses" *slam* The guy in front of him said, slamming a hand on the counter. "Empty the register. Now." The nickname ''glasses'' made Jack slide his eyeglasses up his eyes. Then he sighed, his eyes flicking to the clock. 8 PM. Just two hours left until his shift ended and to close the store. He rubbed his temples, a headache brewing. This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. Of course, today had to get even worse. It was friday night. And the store owner''s favorite night out with his buddy buddies. ''Out of all the days'' His thoughts trailed and focus in the present. ''This is a dangerous situation, seriously, what am I gonna do?'' The guy wasn''t just some regular robber. No, Jack could tell just by looking at him¡ªhe was one of them. The superpowered villains. ''Is he also a member of that group of villains?'' The Abyss? He wondered and made a swift glance of the robber''s whole getup. The robber had a long, jagged scar down his cheek and a grin that screamed I enjoy punching people for fun. But the real problem was his glowing fist. *tssssss* A faint red aura pulsed around it, humming with barely-contained energy. "What''s your problem, man?" Jack asked, stalling for time. "You look like you could use a coffee or something." The robber''s grin faltered, and for a moment, Jack saw a glimmer of desperation in his eyes. "Shut up," The robber growled. "I need the cash. My daughter''s in the hospital. She needs surgery, and I...I don''t have the money." Jack''s expression softened, despite himself. He''d heard stories like this before. People doing desperate things when they felt like they had no other choice. "Man, I''m sorry to hear that," Jack said, trying to sound sincere. "But taking our cash isn''t going to solve your problems. We barely scrape by as it is." The robber''s face twisted in a snarl. "You think I care about your problems? Empty. The. Register." Jack hesitated, his heart racing. He didn''t get paid enough to deal with this. ''I should ask for a raise, goddammit'' Jack curse. Slowly, he reached for the register, his fingers trembling as he punched in the code. *ding* The register popped open with a sad little ding. Inside? A grand total of thirty-two dollars and fifty cents. The robber''s eye twitched. "...Are you kidding me?" Jack shrugged. "Told you." The guy growled, raising his glowing fist. "You think I won''t¡ª" *KABOOM* The counter exploded, sending the cash register flying. *clang* *clang* Jack barely had time to duck before bits of metal and plastic rained down around him. The sound was deafening, a mix of crunching metal and the acrid smell of smoke and ozone. Jack slowly lifted his head, his ears ringing. Holy crap. The guy had punched the counter. No weapons, no tools. Just a single, glowing-fist punch, and the entire thing had disintegrated. The air was thick with the smell of smoke and sweat. "Ugghh uggh" Jack coughed, his lungs burning. He glanced around, taking stock of the damage. The counter was destroyed, the cash register mangled beyond recognition. The robber stood amidst the wreckage, his chest heaving. For a moment, Jack thought he saw a flicker of regret in his eyes. But then, his expression hardened. *grab* "You''re coming with me," he growled, grabbing Jack''s arm with the other hand that is not glowing. Jack''s heart sank. This was not going to end well. And then, suddenly, a thought hit him. A stupid thought. A very reckless thought. But if last night was real¡­ If that dream wasn''t just a dream¡­ Jack''s other hand caressed his right ear. He can still feel the angry line of wound that started to scab. He tried to shake it off, he did not remember having an accident to have something like this in his ears. Nope, there was none. But he remembered the screws that whizzed pass him in the void when he cursed at the floating letters. Jack took a slow breath. He had no plan. No backup. No combat skills. But he had one thing. If his power was real¡­ If he could just imagine something useful¡­ Maybe¡ªjust maybe¡ªhe wouldn''t die today. Jack''s mind was racing. If his power was real, then he just had to imagine something to stop this guy, right? *drags* He struggled at the robber''s hold that was now dragging him to the glass door. ''Why does he have to be strong too, dammit!'' He tried to concentrate. A shield? A weapon? Something to keep his skull from getting caved in? He clenched his fists. Come on, think,Jack! Think! A gun! He gave all his weight to his feet, forcing them apart. Then he strained his muscles and gave his all for them to stop moving. Then he closed his eyes and imagined a gun. Nothing happened. The robber looked at him. "Save your energy, kid. You''re not going anywhere." The robber then stopped dragging him and assumed a thoughtful look. "I think I should just sell you to the Abyss," The robber mumbled. Jack gritted his teeth, his eyes blazing with defiance behind his glasses. ''Dammit!'' No, I just have the worst power imaginable. No matter how hard he tried, no gun appeared. No shield, no magic barrier, nothing. Because deep down, he knew the truth. Last time, he didn''t create things instantly. It only happened when he was asleep. In that weird void. And right now? He was very much awake. Jack barely had time to react before the guy raised his glowing fist again. And this time, he wasn''t aiming for Jack. *ting-tong* A chime echoed through the store as the door swung open. A customer. An old man. Jack''s stomach dropped. His Power is Real *ting-tong* A chime echoed through the cramped, dimly lit convenience store. The sound bouncing off to the dusty shelves and faded advertisements. The store was already barely holding together. Its flickering fluorescent lights cast an eerie glow over the scattered groceries. A broken security camera hung crookedly from the ceiling. The lens was cracked and useless. The door swung open, and a customer walked in ¨C an old man wearing a blue plaid long sleeve. Jack''s stomach dropped. "Hey, wait¡ª!" *KABOOM!* Too late. The energy-powered punch slammed into the old man''s chest. *kablam* The impact sends the old man crashing into a shelf. *crack* *smash* *crack* Coke bottles shattered, and snacks scattered. And the air was filled with the acrid scent of broken glass and stale dust. Time seemed to slow down. Jack knew that old man! "Mister White...." He breathed the old man''s name. The old man had always come in for a carton of milk and a pack of cigarettes. He''d chat about his son, complain about life, and then smile like he secretly enjoyed every bit of it. He''d even worry about Jack sometimes¡ªsomething he never knew how to respond to. Jack would just laugh it off, but deep down, he wondered. Is this what it''s like to have a parent? But he never let himself think about that for long. That box of emotions was locked tight. *slid* Then, Jack watched in horror as the old man''s body slid to the floor. His eyes are wide and unresponsive. A heavy silence filled the store. *creak* Save for the creaking of old wooden shelves, the distant rumble of traffic. But to Jack it all seemed to fade away, replaced by an oppressive silence. *scoff* A scoff broke the stillness. "Tch. Should''ve stayed home, old man." The robber said that, but his eyes betrayed how he felt. The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Something inside Jack snapped. His fingers curled into a fist, his nails digging into his palm. His heart pounded in his ears, the vibrations are like a drumbeat in his chest. Drowning out everything else. He felt furious. A flaming fury. Fury at the robber. At himself. In this situation. At this stupid world where people with superpowers thought they could do whatever they wanted. Just because you people have power doesn''t mean you can do whatever you want to somebody else! Mister White''s superpower is something about cooking, hence the milk. I think he can make it into cheese or something. Yes, a useless power, like Melissa Chu. Jack grinds his teeth. He wanted to fix this. He wanted to change this. But he couldn''t. Not right now. Not while he was awake. His vision blurred, and his body felt heavy and disconnected. The exhaustion¡ªyears of sleepless nights, endless shifts¡ªfinally crashed down on him. Jack collapsed, the floor rushing up to meet him. And then¡ª *thud* The world tilted. The void. He was back in the void. The floating words greeted him, its gentle glow, a stark contrast to the chaos he''d left behind. What would you like to create? Jack gasped for breath, his hands shaking. He had no time to think, no time to hesitate. "I¡ªI need a healing potion! Something to fix injuries! Something¡ªanything!" A small vial of glowing blue liquid appeared in his hands. He didn''t care what it was called, if it followed any logic, or if it was from some fantasy game. He just needed it to work. And a weapon! I need a weapon! I needed something to fight back. That! "A bat. Metal. Heavy." Then it materialized. The weight settled into his grip. It was real. Jack clutched it tight. "Let me take these with me. Let me¡ª" He begged. The void flickered. Then Jack''s eyes snapped open. *hummmmm* He was back in the store, the fluorescent lights above him humming loudly. His body was stiff, his head pounding ¨C but in his hand... The vial was real. And the cold metal baseball bat. It worked. His heart leaped into his throat. Goddammit it worked! It really worked! It actually worked! He almost cried. His pulse thundered as he scrambled toward Mister White, ignoring the robber''s confused stare. But not before brandishing the baseball bat to the robber''s face in his other hand. As if it would matter, in front of a superpowered. But even so, being armed with a weapon makes Jack feel brave. His other hand uncorked the vial and poured half the glowing liquid into the old man''s mouth. *slosh* His eyes keep on looking at the robber''s confused face. For a second, nothing happened. Then¡ª Mister White''s chest rose sharply. His fingers twitched. His eyes fluttered open. Jack nearly collapsed in relief. It wasn''t instant. It wasn''t perfect. The old man still looked weak. But he was alive. Jack exhaled shakily. He had done it. But he had been too late. The man had still suffered. He could''ve died if Jack hadn''t figured this out fast enough. The robber took a step back, eyes darting between Jack and the now-breathing old man. "What the hell¡ª?" Then¡ªsomething clicked. The robber''s expression shifted. His mind worked fast. "You...." The robber started to say. "????" Jack looked alert. "Give me that vial!" The robber''s eyes widened, desperate. "It can heal, right?" Jack didn''t answer. The robber''s eyes are getting bigger, and his hands shook. His face twisted¡ªnot in greed, but in something else. He remembered his sick daughter. "Give me that potion!" "No!" Jack refused. Silence ensues. Then small voices of people can be heard from the distance. Suddenly the robber doesn''t know what to do. *thud* Then Jack was startled when the robber started to kneel on the floor and bow his head. "Please... I''m sorry" Jack was still angry but remembered why the robber was doing it. "My daughter," he whispered. "She''s sick." He bit his lips, his mind wanted to get angry at the man. This guy had attacked Mister White! Left him for dead. He didn''t deserve anything. But his heart... He looked back at the robber¡ªwho was now kneeling. Bowing his head. "Please¡­" The man''s voice cracked. "I''m sorry." He looked at the vial with half of the potion left. Then he looked at the pitiful look of the robber. His hand is not glowing anymore. "Please give me the healing potion..." Jack''s heart twisted. "I''m sorry for all that I''ve done..." He wanted to be angry. "Forgive me, young man." But¡­ he understood. The robber wasn''t the only one trying to survive in a world that didn''t care. Jack closed his eyes. "Catch!" Then he tosses the bottle to the robber, the man catches it. The man''s eyes were full of regret and thanks for Jack. "I will never forgive you" The robber flinched. Jack said. "I will only let you go for your daughter''s sake" "She''s innocent to all of this." The sound of voices¡ªpeople approaching¡ªgrew louder. "Go" The robber started to move, but he stiffened, panic flashing across his face. He''ll be seen if he runs from the front door. "Tch." "You owe me big time" He jerked his head toward the back. "Employee exit. Go." The robber hesitated, then, with one last look¡ªhe nodded. And ran. Jack slowly stood up, his legs still wobbly. His head was still spinning. But now... He knew his power was real. And for the first time in his life... He had something.. He''s no longer an anomaly. The World is Split Red and blue lights flashed against the shattered glass. Painting the night outside the convenience store in flickering bursts of color. With red being more dominant than blue. It casts an eerie glow over the chaotic scene. *weeee-woooo* The loud wail of sirens still echoed faintly in the distance. Mixing with the murmurs of bystanders who had gathered beyond the police tape. Flipping their phones and taking pictures. Going to post to their social media, maybe? Jack thought to himself dryly. Great.. My face will be plastered all over the internet at this rate. He scratched his chin. Paramedics secured the old man onto a stretcher. Strapping him in before rolling him toward the open doors. Mister White was barely awake, his body still recovering from the brutal attack. The old man''s eyes flickered as if trying to process what had happened to him. He must have never imagined even in his wildest dreams that,¡ªjust by deciding to show up at his favorite convenience store, he would end up, with him having a trip to the hospital. Jack thought understandingly. Well getting suckered punch like that in your chest, while thinking of buying his usual milk and cigs would leave a strong impression on the old man. There goes one of the regulars. Jack shakes his head. Your son won''t allow you to come back here again. He predicted. Maybe he''ll be able to get off the cigarettes now? Jack mused. It is something terrible for his health anyway. He smiled at the irony of it. Jack stood behind the wrecked counter. His hands now gripping the edge as he stared at the ambulance. But his legs trembled under the counter, or what was left of it. Now that the adrenaline had worn off, he was afraid he might need the ambulance too. Should I just go with him? He worriedly bit his lips. I''ll hold his hand while we wait for his son. Jack looked at the ambulance wistfully. "Hah..." He sighed loudly. *weee-woo* *weee-woo* He replayed what happened in his head¡ªthe powered punch, the old man collapsing, lifeless on the ground. He swallowed. His mind had never been this clear. *weee-woo* We''re both alive. That should be enough. But it wasn''t. *weee-woo* Jack had saved him, but the weight in his chest didn''t lift. The creeping horror that had gripped him, is that he realized his power was slow. Out of all the superpowers to have, it had to be something about having to sleep and dream! He wants to take it up to the superpowered customer service if there is one... "Hah..." Jack sighed again. What if I was unable to dream? He asked himself. What then? He would have never been able to save Mister White, and he would have been sold to the Abyss. The thought made his stomach twist. He exhaled sharply, his breath shaky and uneven. Jack was afraid of what could have happened if his superpowers did not work that time. *weee-woo* The ambulance has started to move forward. The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. His gaze followed it until he couldn''t see it anymore. The sound of the siren still echoed in his ears. *weee-woo* Then his mind jumped to the robber. He remembered the desperation in his eyes, the cracked voice, the kneeling, begging for the vial. Jack had let him go. He wondered if he had done the right thing. He closed his eyes, his grip on the counter loosening. Do I even have the right to judge what''s right or wrong? He can feel his legs stopped it''s shaking. I''m just a normal person. He can feel himself calming. Well at least up until yesterday, yes I thought I was just a normal person. Jack opened his eyes and a gleam that wasn''t there before started to spark. Being desperate isn''t an excuse for extreme actions. But he could understand. He''d been desperate once before too... He just didn''t have the power to act on it. Did I do the right thing? I think I did. He convinced himself it was for the daughter of the robber, for the innocent kid. But the truth? It wasn''t just that. It was because, deep down, he understood. Jack clenched his fists. This world wasn''t kind, not to people like him, not to people like that robber. Superpowers had turned the world into something cruel ¨C a system where the strong dictated the rules, and the weak were collateral damage. Jack started to clean up some of the debris on the jagged surface of the counter. *clatter* It was because of that war. A long, long time ago. The earth they knew, was not like this. There were no superpowers. Everyone has lived peacefully. *clatter* Then one day, the earth turned black. Like when your electricity isn''t working. But in this case, it was the sun. It''s as if the sun had been stolen. *clatter* The whole world turned dark for over a month. This phenomenon was called the Great Blackout. In that period of time, the people turned on each other ¨C rallies, territory wars, crimes, and cults. The earth has turned into a chaotic place. NASA even sent satellites with cameras to where the sun should have been, but they returned with nothing. It was theoretically impossible. The scientists are at a loss. Speechless. They even closed their doors too. It turned their world upside down. Because the planets should have stopped and gotten lost in their orbits! Two weeks had passed, and people started gaining superpowers. *clatter* *smash* Jack bumped his head at the counter when he tried to pick up the coins that he saw on the floor. "Argh.." Only then did he notice his surroundings. He''s been so lost in his thoughts that he did not realize. That, the police has already swarmed the store. *click* *click* Snapping pictures, collecting evidence. *crunched* *crunched* Their boots crunched over broken glass, and their voices blurred together into a low hum of official-sounding nothing. Someone radioed for cleanup. Someone else muttered about paperwork. Jack observed them. They are SERT, the one on TV last night. Superpowered Emergency Rescue Team. They are the old 911. Is it affiliated with that SPA?¡ªSuper Powered Alliance. No, I don''t think so. They weren''t. If it is, then SERT wouldn''t be here. They have nothing to gain from being here. The SPA would never waste their time on a case like this. They never move now to help people. They only move now if there''s something they can gain. Some old guy getting beat down in a convenience store? A desperate man trying to save his daughter? Too small, too unimportant. So no, SERT is not affiliated with SPA¡ªthe alliance of heroes. SERT must be affiliated with the government. *crunched* *crunched* Yes, the heroes and the government are different. Like two sides of one coin. Both are on the ¡®Good¡¯ side but different all the same. The SPA the superheroes that save the world, and the government that tried to maintain order and stability, no matter the cost. *crunched* *crunched* They thought it was the end of the world then. Everywhere you look, every crime is being committed. Well, that''s what it said in the history books anyway. Jack shrugged. The people got split. Some superpowered people rose, wreaking havoc and decided they wanted to rule the blackened world. Their intentions are still unknown as to why. Then there are superpowered people who have not lost their humanity. The war started between the two opposing side¡ªthe Great War. *clatter* Jack started to clean up again. Picking up shards of bottles like it was only natural. *clatter* Then he resumed thinking back about what he read in books. *clatter* Well, in the end, those superpowered villains got defeated¡ªthey call themselves¡ªthe Abyss now. And the heroes¡ªSPA. And then, as if it''s a lie, as if that''s only what the sun had waited for, it appeared ¨C after a whole month. Marking the end of the Great War and the Great Blackout. Great naming choices Jack sarcastically commented in his head. And the most interesting part is, that the superpowers didn''t lose their powers. Instead, every time a kid hit his 16 years of age, they started manifesting their superpowers. Making all adults have some kind of superpower, regardless of whether it''s awesome, useful, or useless. It was the start of the Superpowered Era. *clatter* The SPA established its group, they are not a government-related group but a group of the superheroes that saved the world. The government, excited and clueless, had given free access for the SPA to have power over the government, even making it an irretractable law. And now, they can''t do anything about it, as the SPA became more powerful, living like kings up unto their descendants. Then there''s the Abyss¡ªa cockroach-like group of powerful individuals who still want to take over the world. The villains. Their reason for wanting to rule is still unknown, which is the irony... As of now, the SPA is the one ruling like kings. And Jack? He''d never been part of their world. Until now. Jack''s power? Dream. And within the dream, the void. In the void, floating words. What do you want to create? That was the question it asked all the time. The power that let him create something out of nothing. He looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers. The bat was gone, vanished when he no longer needed it. The vial, too - he''d given it to the robber. He hoped it would explode in the robber''s face after he fed all the potion to his daughter. The void had only lent him those things temporarily. Maybe? A sharp voice cut through his thoughts. "Kid, you good?" Jack blinked, focusing on the police officer standing before him, arms crossed. The officer''s presence was imposing - tall, broad-shouldered, and built like a bouncer. His badge was clipped onto a reinforced tactical vest with SERT written on it. His short, graying hair made him look older than he probably was. What struck Jack most was the faint hum of energy around the officer''s palm. It glowed softly, like embers beneath his skin. Jack wasn''t surprised; plenty of cops have superpowers related to being a cop. Must be powerful too. Jack mused. ''I hope they catch that robber.'' Jack thought, washing his hands of the robber''s situation. He focused on the officer, whose name tag read "Olo" on his chest. Jack wondered what this guy''s power was. "Yeah," Jack muttered. "Just... tired." The officer studied him before sighing. "Hell of a night. You were lucky." Jack exhaled, glancing toward the cop car. Not luck. Not this time. His mind churned. He''d done something impossible - creating something from nothing. It wasn''t just rare¡ªit was unheard of. Or maybe it was all useless? Jack doubted the void. The officer''s voice brought him back. "You''re a witness, kid. We''ll need you to come down to the station and give a statement tomorrow." "Okay sure," Jack said. "Get some rest. This city''s rough enough without losing sleep over things you can''t change." The officer''s eyes narrowed. "Yes, officer." Jack answered respectfully. The officer nodded. "Good. I''ll have someone escort you." As the officer turned to call for backup. Jack caught a glimpse of something on his wrist¡ªa small, leather-bound cuff with a discreet silver emblem. The officer''s words echoed in Jack''s head: "Things you can''t change." Jack glanced down at his hands again. Maybe that used to be true. But not anymore. The emblem looked familiar, but Jack couldn''t quite place it. The officer turned back, his expression neutral. "Let''s get you out of here." Jacks Day Off! For the first time in two years, Jack had a day off. Not because he asked for it. Not because he finally saved up enough to take a break. No¡ªhis workplace was just too destroyed to function. The convenience store was officially under repair, which meant he had nowhere to be. He woke up with a start and an unfamiliar silence greeted him. Jack rubbed his eyes, trying to shake off the haze. And for a while he sat like that, staring at nothing. His mind¡ªblurry. He didn''t know what to do with himself. No alarm blaring in his ear, no rush to get to work. No shift. No rush. No customers yelling at him. It was weird. Very weird. So, he did what any sane person with newly discovered reality-warping powers would do. He laid back to bed and tried to sleep again. Huh. It''s so peaceful, warm and ... Zzzzzz... Seconds later.... Jack''s eyes cracked open. White. That damn void again. He groaned, rubbing his face. "Oh, come on." For once¡ªjust once¡ªhe wanted to sleep in. No alarms, no customers, no existential crises. Was that too much to ask? He sat up and pulled out his hair in frustration. The floating words shimmered into existence in front of him. What would you like to create? Jack glared at them. "A proper day off." Nothing happened. He sighed. "Figures." His gaze drifted away from the floating words, his mind wandering back to the previous night''s events. He felt like there is something off. Jack can sense a coming headache whenever he tried to think. Huh. Dammit. He cursed loudly. His body shifted slightly as he sat up straighter, his eyes flashing with annoyance. The damn convenience store, the sad robber, the old man, the ambulance... He frowned, trying to pinpoint what felt off while rubbing his temples. Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. And when he tried to slide his glasses up, a habit that he''s used to... He realized what''s really wrong... Where are my glasses? He flips his head up and stilled. At some point when all those things where happening... he realized his glasses just... gone? And his eyes? 20/20 vision? What the hell happened? He scrambled to stand up. Jack''s breath hitched as he ran a hand over his face. His skin felt the same¡ªmaybe a little smoother? But the real kicker was his eyesight. It was sharp. Too sharp. He looked down at his hands, stretching his fingers, then held them up to his face. Jack could see every damn line, every little scar, every tiny crease in his knuckles. He blinked rapidly, looking around, testing his vision. The void was always empty, always white, but now¡ªhe could see the depth of it. Like his eyes had unlocked some hidden layer of clarity. His stomach twisted. He needed to know. He turned to the floating words. "Create a full-body mirror." The words shimmered. The void rippled. And then¡ª A tall, sleek mirror materialized before him. Jack hesitated. A weird sense of anticipation crawled up his spine. He had no idea what he expected to see, but something told him this wasn''t going to be normal. Taking a slow breath, he stepped forward. And there he was. Same curly black hair¡ªmessy as always. Same face¡ªalbeit a little sharper, like he had actually been getting proper sleep (which he hadn''t). But the biggest change? His body. He wasn''t bulky, not by a long shot. He examined his body thru his thin gray shirt. But afraid to take off his shirt. Jack couldn''t shake the feeling that unblinking eyes were trained on him. He tried to brush it off as mere imaginations, but the sensation persisted. With a subtle flick of his gaze, he scanned his surroundings, searching for any sign of movement or presence¡ªjust in case he missed that in all of his visits to the void. "Nothing...." He whispered. All he can see are the same endless expanse of white, like an ocean of blank paper stretching out in every direction. He looked back at the mirror again and shake it off. He started to study himself more. His attention now focused on his reflections. The wiry frame he''d lived with for years? Gone. His shoulders looked broader. His arms¡ªleaner, more defined. His posture had changed too¡ªlike he wasn''t unconsciously hunching over anymore. Jack flexed a hand, watching the muscles shift. "¡­The hell?" This¡ªthis was the telltale sign of awakening. He had seen it before. People who suddenly had their powers activate would undergo subtle but clear physical improvements. Better eyesight. A stronger physique. Enhanced reflexes. Jack reached up, pressing his fingers against his temple. His body had changed. So, it was real! His power was real. Or am I still dreaming? What if I woke up and none of it all is real? Maybe he is only like this in the void? In the dream? He stared at his reflections for a bit more, and then... How do I wake up in real world again? ..... Jack''s eyes snapped open in the real world, and he felt a wave of dizziness wash over him. "Ugh..." He groggily tried to stand up, but his legs wouldn''t cooperate. He stumbled and fell back onto the bed, his limbs still heavy with sleep. Shit. He tried to rest for a bit, letting his body acclimate to the feeling of being awake. He clenched his fist and took slow, deep breaths, trying to shake off the sudden dizziness. Jack stayed like that for a while, but his impatience was wearing thin. He wanted to see for himself while his memories from the void were still fresh. Once he felt stable enough, he slowly got up and made his way to the bathroom again. This time, he succeeded, albeit still feeling a bit nauseous. As he stepped inside the lit bathroom, the cold floor beneath his feet sent a shiver down his spine, making his skin break out in goosebumps. He closed his eyes, a nagging fear creeping in that it was all just a product of his imagination. For a moment, he forgot about the impossible things that had happened in the convenience store - the potions, the baseball bat materializing in his hands. He is worried that the trauma of the event had been too much, and his mind had conjured up the memories as a coping mechanism. Even when his eyes are closed, he knew the bathroom like the back of his hands. Still afraid to open his eyes. Jack breathes in and out. He can feel his fingers touched the cold marbled sink. "Okay... Whew... Moment of truth!" He whispered. He already readied himself to be disappointed. He opened his eyes. His visions are clear. Jack breathed in, took off his shirt, and stared. Jacks Day Off? ... Or so He Thought... Jack''s breath intake got caught in his throat... as he stared at his reflections. Drinking in every detail he is seeing in the mirror. The body staring back was his, yet... looks different? His once-scrawny frame had filled out, not bulky, but built? This is like Peter Parker! When he became a superhero! Defined muscles replaced the lean lines he was familiar with, striking a perfect balance ¨C proportional, not exaggerated. Broader shoulders, more pronounced collarbones, and a firmer chest transformed his physique. Jack pressed a palm against his abs, tracing the faint ridges with his fingers. He can feel himself feeling happy about this. he''s not a materialistic guy but... he couldn''t deny the thrill of this newfound physical confidence. "Shit... This feels all surreal..." He lifted his arms, flexing slightly, and watched as the muscles shifted subtly. He turned left, then right, verifying the changes. This was real. Exhaling, he pressed his hands against the sink for support. His racing heart echoed the turmoil in his mind. Is this normal? He found himself asking. Awakening came with changes¡ªhe''d seen it before. People unlocking their powers experienced minor physical improvements. But this? This was more. His fingers twitched, drawing his attention. His power. The void. Was this transformation connected? Jack examined his hands, searching for any signs of change. They felt the same. No overwhelming strength, no hidden energy reservoir. Yet, the proof stared him in the face: improved vision to point of him not needing his glasses anymore...and transformed body. Jack swallowed, his mind racing. This was just the beginning. The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. He looked up once again to the mirror, this time he studied his face. His pores seemed to get smaller, his face become... youthful? "I looked more.... Handsome?" feeling a bit shy saying it out loud. He stares some more at his reflections Jack can''t wait how people will react to him! Then he paused. ......... But oh, there is only a few people that would may or may not be able to tell... The neighbors... Maybe the kid next door, the speedy neighbor... and Mister White. Then he remembered that the old man was at the hospital and won''t be able to come back at the store to see him for a while or forever. Jack''s face crumpled. And oh, Mister Hughes. His boss. The store owner. ......... What a sad life he has. He realized. "Hah..." He sighed. Shaking his head, he proceeded on to wash his face to shake the remnants of sleep. He looked up again at the mirror, still in high spirits, despite the fact that only a few people would notice his small changes. ......... "Crazy" He whispered. ******************************** He was only able to get out of the bathroom an hour later. Jack had changed into a hooded plaid shirt with a drawstring, layered over a worn white shirt underneath. A pair of black skinny jeans... it was hard to move in them. They had suddenly gotten smaller. He pondered how much he''d need to withdraw from his meager emergency funds. Should he just buy one pair of jeans? He''d have to wash and wear them repeatedly until he received his next salary from the convenience store. Then he remembered, it might be impossible for now. Jack''s gaze fell on the calendar. One week. That''s how long the store would be closed for renovations. Which reminded him that his salary was tied to the store''s operation. He let out a deep sigh, feeling a mix of relief and uncertainty. "Well, I guess I have no choice but to use those emergency funds for now to get by." If the store owner, Mister Hughes, wasn''t so frugal, they could''ve had the store up and running in no time. There were superpowered individuals with reconstruction abilities, like the infamous "Re-winder" who could restore a building to its former state in minutes. But, of course, such services came with a hefty price tag ¨C one that Mister Hughes was unwilling to pay. It would cost a lot, and his boss might use the renovation expenses as an excuse to withhold his salary. But even if that was the case, Jack realized that Mister Hughes might not be able to pay him regardless. Whether he chose the expensive ''Re-winder'' service or the manual approach, the outcome seemed uncertain. "Should I just resign and ask for back pay?" Jack wondered. Sighing and completely accepting his salary''s fate, Jack shuffled to the kitchen, his bare feet making soft slapping sounds on the floor. He opened the fridge, scanning the contents with a blank expression, grateful that he had asked his boss if he can take home, some of those groceries that got damage beyond repair. It''s still edible...? Only the packaging is what''s really damaged? Right? ................ Anyways... what was he supposed to do on his day off? He hadn''t had one in so long, he''d forgotten how to relax. He settled for making toast and brewing coffee. As he waited, Jack wandered to the window and stared out at the city. The sun shone, casting a warm glow over the skyscrapers. People bustled below, going about their daily business. Jack felt a pang of envy. They look so sure where they are going... while I.... The coffee maker¡ªhis one and only selfish electric appliance¡ªbeeped, snapping him back to reality. He poured a cup and savored the bitter flavor. Maybe he''d read a book or watch a movie? He hadn''t done either in ages. As he sat on the couch, Jack''s gaze fell on the TV remote. He scrolled through channels with disinterest. Nothing caught his attention. He put the remote back, feeling lost. The silence was getting to him. Jack stood up and began pacing, trying to shake off restlessness. He stopped at the window again, staring out. He had a nagging feeling that his peaceful morning was about to be disrupted. Just as he was sinking deeper into his thoughts, the knock on the door jolted him back to reality... *KNOCK* *KNOCK* His attention shifted to the door. It was his speedy neighbor. He recognized the familiar, rapid knocks ¨C a signature trait of his speedy neighbor. Aside from him, there is only other one person that knocks on Jack''s door¡ªthe landlord. But it isn''t his time for the rent yet so.... He moved hurriedly as fast as those knocks on the door. Suddenly, Jack''s foot hit the table, crushing his pinkie toe. He tumbled, crashing into the table. "AHHHHHHHH!" he yelped at the pain. A long silence ensues after and then... The knocking grew persistent. "Hey, everything alright in there?" Jack remained silent, afraid his voice would crack. The banging grew louder, as if they''d break down the door. Shit, shit, shit... He''d look like a loser if they opened the door and saw him. Don''t come in, please! Kai鈥擸our Speedy-Seedy-Neighborhood Jack bit down on his tongue, holding back a pained scream as his pinkie toe throbbed in agony. He clutched his foot, rocking back and forth while taking sharp, hissing breaths. The cool air from the open window wafted in, carrying the sounds of the outside world. *KNOCK* *KNOCK* *KNOCK* The pounding on his door was growing more impatient. "Hey, everything alright in there?" came the familiar voice of his speedy neighbor, Kai. Jack tensed. Damn it. This is all your fault! He glared at the door. *KNOCK* *KNOCK* *KNOCK* He scrambled to his feet, wincing as his throbbing toe protested. Slightly limping. Jack took a deep breath, stood up straight, trying to regain some dignity before opening the door. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee drifted out, mingling with the scent of his injured toe''s sweat and injured self-esteem. Lovely. Just what he needed. Kai stood there in his all-blond glory, hands in the pockets of his black hoodie, his blue sharp eyes scanning Jack up and down. "Took you long enough," he said, raising an eyebrow. "You fall or something?" Jack straightened up even more. "What? No. Pfft. Why would I¡ª?" His voice cracked slightly, and he cleared his throat. "I''m fine." Kai hummed, unimpressed. He leaned slightly to the side, glancing behind him as if expecting to see something suspicious. The morning light streaming through the door highlighted the dust motes dancing in the air. "Mm-hmm. You sounded like you got tackled by a ghost." Jack stepped forward and stood just at the entrance of his door, subtly blocking Kai''s view inside his apartment. "It was nothing. Just¡ªuh¡ªstubbed my toe." The guy blinked, then smirked. "Stubbed your toe? That bad, huh?" His face burned as he thought¡ªOkay, fine, it was just a stub, but it felt like my pinkie toe got crushed! "Oh, shut up." Kai chuckled but didn''t push further. He shifted his weight onto one foot, still watching Jack with an unreadable expression. "You seem... different today." Kai observed. Excitement ignited within Jack. His aura suddenly subtly changing, forgetting the now slightly pain in his toe. Yes! So, my physical transformation is really that obvious! "Different?" he asked, trying to keep his face nonchalant. "Yeah. Can''t put my finger on it, but something''s off. You finally get a decent night''s sleep or something?" Kai''s gaze roamed over his face, eyes lingering on the changes in Jack''s appearance. Ha! If only he knew! But he hesitated, not knowing what to do. His palms began to sweat. He couldn''t exactly say: Oh yeah, I woke up in a white void, found out I might have reality-warping powers, and now my body looks like it came with a free gym membership. How do you even open up if you are newly awakened to your powers? And he''s already this old. He felt a bit awkward. "Uh... I guess?" Jack mumbled, scratching the back of his head. "I had a day off, so... yeah." "Oh yeah?" Kai said tipping his head slightly, still eyeing him in that way that made Jack feel like he was being examined under a microscope. Then, with a shrug, he leaned against the door-frame too. "Well, guess I came at a good time then." The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. They are just a hand away from each other. Making him feel a bit uncomfortable. Ugh, too close. He can smell his cologne. Jack narrowed his eyes. "Why?" Kai grinned. "Because you owe me coffee." He groaned, remembering that time when he asked for his help. Dragging a hand down his face, he said, "Dude, are you serious?" "Dead serious." Kai looked past him again, sniffing the air. "And I smell fresh coffee, which means you have no excuse." Jack exhaled sharply through his nose, knowing there was no escape. "Fine. But only because I don''t want you breaking down my door next time." Kai smirked. "No promises." He strolled past him into the apartment, making himself at home like the few times that he did. He sighed, shutting the door behind him, still painfully aware of the fact that Kai was watching him like he had some big secret written all over his face. And maybe he did... Jack leaned against the counter, watching as his neighbor made himself comfortable in the kitchen, moving around with a familiarity that irked him just a little. Kai grabbed a mug from the cabinet like he owned the place, pouring himself a cup of Jack''s freshly brewed coffee. "Man, you actually make decent coffee. Surprising." he commented. Jack scoffed, crossing his arms. "What''s that supposed to mean?" Kai took a sip, humming in approval before shooting him a lazy grin. "Just saying. Didn''t peg you as the ''put-effort-into-breakfast'' kind of guy." He rolled his eyes, but deep down, he was grateful for the distraction. The throbbing in his toe had dulled to a mild ache, but his mind was still racing with everything that had happened that morning. His transformation, his power. His secret. Kai, however, seemed relaxed¡ªtoo relaxed. Jack wasn''t sure if it was just his usual demeanor or if there was something else beneath the surface. And he is letting him do so. His expression changing. Softening. I guess I really do look like an outcast. He said to himself. He''s not that dense. He always felt like Kai is monitoring him or something. His speedy neighbor always seemed to appear at the most opportune moments, as if he had a sixth sense for when Jack needed someone to check in on him. But somehow, he feels grateful for it. I guess I''m too lonely, feeling like a beggar and craving even the fleeting attention of someone, anyone, who would notice me. It''s crazy. Then Kai glanced at him, his expression shifting just slightly. "So, you doing okay?" He stiffened. There it was. The undertone. It was faint, but it was there. The question was casual, but the weight behind it wasn''t. He is definitely stalking me or spying on me! But the question is... Why? Jack shrugged forcing his curiosity down, playing it cool. "Yeah, why wouldn''t I be?" Kai set his mug down, leaning against the counter with an unreadable look. "I don''t know. Maybe because the store you work at got trashed? That''s kinda big news." Jack clenched his jaw. Of course. Of course, Kai had heard. He should''ve expected this, should''ve prepared for it. He forced a chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. "Oh, that? Yeah, it sucks. But hey, at least I get a forced vacation out of it." Kai tilted his head, studying him. "Mhm." He fought the urge to squirm. That sound¡ªthat skeptical hum¡ªmade his skin itch. He wasn''t sure if he was imagining it, but it felt like he was looking at him differently. Like he was waiting for something. Jack shifted on his feet, his fingers twitching at his sides. Should he say something? Should he tell Kai? He could just casually slip it into the conversation. ''Oh yeah, by the way, I awakened yesterday. No big deal.'' Yeah, right. Like that wouldn''t be the weirdest thing to just drop into a conversation. Stupid move even. And he still did not trust Kai, this and that are different things. The guy took another sip of coffee, gaze flicking to Jack''s hands. "You weren''t at the store when it happened, were you?" Jack hesitated for half a second too long. "No," he said quickly, maybe too quickly. "I mean¡ªyeah.." Kai''s lips pressed together, as if he was weighing his next words. "Lucky." He swallowed, nodding. "Yeah. Guess so." Another pause. But Kai wasn''t looking at him directly anymore, instead swirling the coffee in his mug. Jack could hear his own heartbeat in his ears, an annoying, persistent thud-thud-thud. He needed to change the subject before he noticed how stiff he was. Jack forced a smirk. "You worried about me or something?" Kai snorted. "You? Nah. Just curious how you managed to avoid the whole mess." Jack let out a breath he didn''t realize he was holding. It was a tease, a deflection. But something about the way he said it made him feel like he wasn''t entirely off the hook. "I was lucky," Jack repeated, leaning back against the counter, mirroring Kai''s relaxed stance. "What about you? Why are you suddenly so interested in my well-being?" Kai lifted a shoulder in an easy shrug. "Like I said, it''s big news. And you''re my neighbor. If something happened to you, who else am I gonna bum free coffee from?" He rolled his eyes but couldn''t help the small laugh that slipped out. The tension eased slightly, but it still lingered just beneath the surface. Kai downed the rest of his coffee and set the mug in the sink. "Well, as long as you''re good." He nodded, hoping that was the end of it. Hoping that his speedy friendly neighbor wouldn''t push any further. Kai turned to leave, but paused at the doorway. "Oh, and Jack?" His stomach flipped. "Yeah?" Kai glanced over his shoulder; his blue eyes sharp. "You ever need anything, you know where to find me." Jack blinked. The words were simple, but there was something beneath them. Something unspoken. He forced a smirk. "Yeah, yeah. Don''t get all sentimental on me." Kai huffed a laugh. "Right. Wouldn''t want that." Then, just like that, he was gone, leaving him alone in the quiet apartment. Jack exhaled, running a hand down his face. That was too close. His fingers twitched again, and he stared down at them, his mind racing. He wasn''t ready to tell anyone. Not yet. Especially not Kai. Survival Guide for the Superpowered Jack sat in the cold, sterile room of the police station. His hands rested on the freezing table, his posture relaxed¡ªat least, that was what he hoped he looked like. Internally, he was reciting a mental checklist, a survival guide for the superpowered civilian in police custody. It was a litany of rules he''d developed over years of being the only odd one out, the powerless man in a world of wonders. "Rule number one," he murmured to himself, trying to remember his so-called regulations while his gaze fixed on a hairline crack that snaked across the stark white wall. A minor imperfection in the sterile room. "Always carry your SS ID." He subtly patted his pocket, feeling the reassuring presence of the card. "Check. ID present." He continued his internal list. "Without it, they might suspect me of being a member of the Abyss. Especially since I''m over sixteen. And¡­ well, because I don''t have a chip." Jack thought of the Superpowered System ID, the SS ID. It was the government''s way of categorizing every superpowered individual in the country. A necessary evil, they claimed. Seven years after the Great War, every sixteen-year-old who awakened their superpowers underwent the Awakening Test. Their abilities were documented, classified, and they were issued the SS ID. The government declared it mandatory, a tool to control the lingering riots and chaos that still followed the war. Restoring order to the world. More like an attempt to rebuild their political standing that got disrupted by the supernatural events that suddenly plunged the world into chaos, as powers erupted and the very fabric of reality seemed to shift and reports of people turning into animals or acting as one were on the rise. They used the SS ID to identify the troublemakers, those with uncontrolled abilities or radical ideologies, and monitor them closely. The ID system made it easy to filter superpowered civilians with seemingly useless abilities from those with high-risk powers with mass destruction capabilities. Those with potent abilities were often monitored or offered a choice: join the government or affiliate with the Superpowered Alliance, the SPA or face increased scrutiny. And, more importantly, the SS ID was used as a weapon against the Abyss. If you were an awakened adult without an ID, you were automatically suspected of being connected to the rogue group. Oh, you don''t have an SS ID and no chip? Jack thought, a shiver running down his spine. Bam. You''ll find yourself suddenly handcuffed with magic-imbued restraints, courtesy of some superpowered officer. No questions asked. No explanations given. He swallowed, imagining the scene. It''s not a trial. It''s a formality. And I''m pretty sure I''m about to fail that formality. "Rule number two," he continued, his eyes darting around the room. "Follow the instructions of the police officers. Stay where they take you until given further notice..." Well, this one is for everyone''s protection because this place is a superpowered pressure cooker. You never know when some volatile ability is going to go off while being questioned. The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. The police station was a massive, functional complex, clearly designed to hold dangerous superpowered individuals. Superpowered fights happen often here, and the damage can be extreme. If you are in the way of a superpowered criminal while the police are trying to catch them, you will be considered a threat. Which, honestly, sounds like a Tuesday. Best to avoid that. He paused, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. "Rule number three... oh, they scratched that. Something about ''no weapons.'' Apparently, they realized that against a guy who can turn those weapons in a living lava, a pocketknife or a gun isn''t exactly a game-changer." Right. Erase, erase. Rule three, revised: Know your rights, stick to facts, be patient, and always ask for a copy of your statements. Because, you know, they might accidentally write down that you confessed to stealing a herd of invisible sheeps. Which, for the record, I did not do... "And finally," he concluded, his gaze settling on the flickering fluorescent lights, "Rule number four: All conversations are monitored, even internal ones. They have people who can read minds, or some tech." I don''t know, but it is real¡ªof course it is! We are in the Superpowered era! So I should probably stop talking to myself, even internally. But, hey, if they''re listening, maybe they''ll get some interior design tips from my apartment. It''s... rustic. He took a deep breath, trying to project an aura of nonchalance. "Okay, Jack," he muttered under his breath. "You''ve got this. Just play it cool. Act like you''re here for a casual chat about the weather. Or the existential dread of being the only powerless adult in a world of superheroes. You know, light conversation." Detective Harris, across the table, raised an eyebrow, his gaze sharp. "Is something amusing you, Mister Dylan?" Jack''s internal monologue screeched to a halt. "No, sir. Just... admiring the ambiance." He forced a smile to make himself look harmless, but it probably looked more like a grimace. "Very... interrogation chic." The air in the interrogation room was a nauseating cocktail of stale coffee and industrial-strength disinfectant, the kind that made your eyes water and your stomach churn. The hum of the flickering fluorescent lights pressed against Jack''s skull, each buzz a tiny hammer blow to his already throbbing head. Across from him, Detective Harris flipped through a thin file, his weathered fingers tracing over the documents within. He watched him, trying to decipher the man''s expression. Was it suspicion? Boredom? Mild indigestion? He couldn''t tell. Harris''s sharp eyes flicked up, locking onto his with quiet scrutiny. "So, tell me what happened at the store," the detective said, his voice firm but controlled. What''s his superpower? He wondered. I need to avoid any suspicions. But then again, I didn''t do anything wrong. I''m just trying to do my job. Why am I even nervous? Shouldn''t they be grateful that I saved Mister White? Oh of course they don''t know that....of what i did... Then he remembered he let the criminal go. Dammit. He tried hard not to think of anything, hence the crazy way he talked to himself. He gulped. I can only hope he doesn''t have mind-reading powers, or I''m doomed. Then he tried to focus again on the rules. Rule number three: Stick to the facts... But the facts are... that I let him go. He was a criminal, yes, but a desperate father too. And I... I let him walk away. What if Harris finds out? I saved Mister White. That should be enough, right? My hands are shaking. But the guilt is eating at me. What if that guy does something else? What if someone gets hurt because of me? But his daughter... she needed help. And Mister White was okay. I told myself it balanced out. But did it? Did it really? Jack''s mental checklist kicked in. Rule number three: Stick to facts. "Like I already told the officers before¡ªI was on my shift, the¡­ ugly individual (sticking to facts)¡­ barged in, threatened me, and then when Mister White came in... he... punched him with his glowing fist. Then he ran. That''s it." Harris nodded slightly, his gaze unreadable. "Right. And yet, the old man¡ªwho should have been dead¡ªwalked out of that hospital without so much as a scar. Funny, huh?" Jack''s eyes widened slightly. "Oh? He''s already discharged?" That''s fast¡­ Or maybe he just really wanted to get out of the hospital food? Maybe hospital milk is the worst? Harris leaned forward, his elbows on the table. "What is your relationship with Mister White?" Jack hesitated, unsure how to respond. Rule number three, again: Stick to facts, but don''t volunteer information. "Like customer and seller?" It didn''t sound right, even to his own ears. Harris raised an eyebrow. "Customer and seller? In what context?" "No, I mean... not in that way. Just... just legal ones! I''m a cashier, and he''s a customer!" Jack groaned internally. Why does this sound so suspicious? I sound like a drug dealer trying to explain my ''business relationship'' with a client. Harris''s eyes glazed over for a split second, then snapped back into focus. "You sure it was that simple?" Chaotic Comedy Harris''s eyes glazed over for a split second, then snapped back into focus. "You sure it was that simple?" "I... I..." Jack stammered, scrambling for a response. Then the detective''s eyes glazed over again for another split second, then returned to their usual sharpness. "Your story doesn''t add up. The amount of paperwork this ''simple'' incident has generated is suspicious." Harris narrowed his eyes. Really? What was it that doesn''t add up? Jack wondered. He tried to figure out what he had done wrong. But he can''t think of anything... and it''s making him nervous. "I think you''re lying to me, or at least not telling me everything." Harris sighed emphasizing the word ''simple''. Lying??? What... what did I do? He tried to recollect his memories. The robber showed up with a sob story of his daughter in the hospital, threatened to get the thirty two dollars and fifty two cent from the cash register, got disappointingly mad and proceeded to destroy it instead of taking the money. Then.. then.. he remembered the robber tried to sell him off! To the Abyss! He shuddered at the memory. The man was dragging him while Jack was trying to use his powers of dreams but sadly, he failed.. Then after that.. Mister White walked in, God bless his soul, and he was punched too.. like the register... Now that I think about it, that robber is really bad! And right after, Jack tried using the void once again and succeeded, creating a healing potion and a metal baseball bat out of thin air! And taking it with him in the real world.. it still feels unreal to be honest.. And then, the robber saying he is sorry and begs for the remaining potion.. Shit, he saw me using the void! I hope he doesn''t get caught, or we''ll both be screwed... Add the fact that I let you go.. Dammit. I really did something bad. A weary expression settled on the detective''s face who was observing Jack''s face and then he spoke. "I''m seeing a lot of red tape in your future, Mister Dylan, and that usually means someone is holding back." Jack''s internal monologue screeched to a halt. What did he just see? "I¡­ I don''t know what you''re talking about." he stammered. Harris tilted his head, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. "You said it was a ''simple'' robbery. But I''m seeing a form that I''ve never seen before, and that worries me." What does he mean? A form? Never seen before? Can he see my superpowers? If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. Jack gulped slightly. The detective gestured towards the pile of papers on his desk, and Jack noticed they fluttered slightly. "And my paperwork is telling me that you are not telling me everything." He''s seeing paperwork? Jack thought, a mix of confusion and dread washing over him. "I have paperwork recognition as my superpower." Harris revealed, with a small smirk. "So you can''t lie and hide anything from me. Tell me what you are hiding. You are nervous, your face are being obvious. Your hands are shaking. You did not succeed to hide anything" That''s his superpower? Paperwork precognition? He tried to keep his face neutral. Oh, then he can''t see anything about the void. It was all just about the robbery and Mister White.. Then that''s one less thing to worry about! he can feel himself slightly getting relieved. But since I let go of the criminal, he is being suspicious of me... maybe someone find out about that? Jack started to get nervous again. Will I go to jail for letting the criminal go? But it''s not like I have the power to do so! But oh... I recently got my superpowers... But they''re not enough to actually apprehend the man! I''m powerless! How can they think I could do that? Will I go to jail for omitting that I recently awakened? And that I had the capability to capture the criminal, but let him go instead? Should I say it''s a useless ability? Jack looked around and looked at the glass window where he can see the police officers lounging at their desks. Did they catch the robber already? Or are they just taking a break? Nope, they are drinking coffee and having donuts. Typical. He tried to look for the officer last night, Olo. But he did not see him. trying to find comfort with a familiar face that he saw last night. Shit. I really need to avoid any suspicions. What does Harris really want for chrissakes! Olo said I''ll just give a statement! he felt betrayed. That''s why Jack decided to show up early at the police station in his day off. After his usually quite morning turned into a chaotic comedy of his pinkie toe getting stubbed and his speedy seedy neighbor slyly checking up on Jack..leaving him with a cringey message that if he needs him... He shakes his head at that thought. Jack was just lost at what he''s supposed to do with his much awaited day off.. that''s it! That''s why he decided to just go to the police station to give his statement as a witness and then after, he wants to watch a movie. That''s the correct order right? If you have a day off why not spend that to a movie theater! Why be alone? Right right... Jack tried to think of something, he was getting too lost in his thoughts and he was still stalking to Harris. ....... Detective Harris.... he thought. Is it really okay to just blurt your powers out to a random person? Or is this his style of interrogation? But then again, he thought. I didn''t do anything wrong, he tried to convince himself again. I''m just a powerless guy trying to do my job. Trying not to get eaten by invisible sheep and goats. Yes, I''m nervous, being obvious, and my hands are shaking. I have a lot to hide, too, especially the expired groceries I''m keeping from Mr. Hughes. But I have valid reasons! He''s being cheap with my salary, and it was expired! And it''s not like I took new ones! It was already expired... by a few days... okay, one day. But still! It''s like my little revenge against Mr. Hughes. It''s like... is this any different than letting that robber go? It is wrong, really? The detective spoke startling Jack and halting his train of thoughts. "According to the doctors, Mr. White had a shattered ribcage, internal bleeding, and a collapsed lung." Harris read Mister White''s medical report. "The punch he took wasn''t from some common thug¡ªit was from a registered superpowered criminal with enhanced strength in his fist, currently on the wanted list for attempted murder." He leaned in, his voice lowering. "And yet, Mister White made a miraculous recovery overnight. The hospital ran some tests. They found traces of an unknown healing agent in his system." Jack''s pulse pounded in his ears, but he didn''t flinch. "And?" Harris tilted his head. "Magic-grade healing doesn''t just appear out of nowhere. And it sure as hell isn''t cheap. If someone gave it to him, we need to know who." Im Gonna Watch A Movie "Well, is it wrong to give an injured old man a healing potion?" Jack blurted out, then groaned internally. Shut up, shut up, Jack! Jack let out a short, forced laugh, trying to cover up his slip-up, shaking his head. "I think you''ve got the wrong idea. You already did a background check on me, didn''t you?" he laughs more awkwardly. He is bad at this. "Ahem... I''m powerless... I don''t have that kind of ability... I''m that... that... one anomaly... I''m kinda famous, you know?" he stammered. Harris slid a document across the table. Jack recognized it instantly: his System ID profile. The infamous profile. "You''re Jack Dylan," Harris stated, his voice flat, devoid of any warmth. "The only anomaly, the one of the kind." Jack swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. "Yeah. That''s me." He avoided eye contact. His gaze fixed on the worn surface of the table. Harris tossed the profile aside, his eyes never wavering from Jack''s. "You were on television for this, weren''t you? A grown man, not even a flicker of an ability. People thought it was a joke. A statistical anomaly." He held up the ID card itself, a sleek, black rectangle with a holographic image of Jack''s face. "The image they projected was grainy. Much better in person." and as if to make a point, the detective threw a glance at Jack''s real face. "My fifteen minutes of fame," Jack replied, his voice quiet, almost a whisper. Jack''s stomach twisted into knots. "I''d rather they hadn''t bothered." He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Harris exhaled, leaning back in his chair. "We ran your ID, of course. No discrepancies. But something''s... off." He tapped a pen against the table, the rhythmic click echoing ominously in the silence. "You don''t have a chip." "And?" Jack asked devoid of any reactions. "Hmm-mm, every superpowered individual gets one," Harris continued, his voice low and deliberate. "A magic-imbued tool, crafted by the government''s best, ''The Artisan.'' " "This chip identifies an individual''s name, affiliations, location, superpower status, and even monitors vital signs like blood pressure and mental health." the detective said in his monotone voice as if he is reciting a manual on how to cook an egg. "It is designed to identify and control those on the verge of losing control. The Abyss, of course, didn''t have one in their bodies." He paused, his gaze boring into Jack. "And you? You never got one." Jack forced a nervous chuckle, the sound brittle and unnatural. "Maybe they figured I wasn''t worth the trouble." "Bullshit," Harris muttered, his eyes narrowing. "The procedure is mandatory. Painful, sure, but every registered citizen with powers gets it done." He leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table, his gaze piercing. "So why did they skip you?" Jack let the words of the detective sync in better answering him. "Well, I was there at the Awakening Center.. and well, after they create my SS ID, they had a good laugh on why would i need a SS ID." he smirked as if what he''s saying is something funny. "They didn''t think I could survive it. They looked at me like I was going to break. The implantation process involves magic, a direct connection between the chip and a person''s core abilities." he shrugged as he recount the memories of his failed awakening. It tastes bitter in my mouth. You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. "Anyways, I had no powers, no core. They deemed that I''m too fragile, too insignificant, to risk killing. They didn''t want to have a bad rep from some powerless loser dying during the chip implantation.." A long silence ensues. Harris, has a blank look in his face. His eyes were unreadable. Jack didn''t know and don''t want to know what he''s thinking. Maybe he also thinks I''m a loser. He can''t help but think. He looked down on the table and let his mind wander. Trying to get his mind off the things he wants to bury. Jack''s mind goes to ''The Artisan''. A strange, unsettling kinship stirred within him, a connection to the famous superpowered craftsman who had designed the chips. We are both famous in some kind of way. Someone whose power only created tools, nothing else. Just like Jack. If his dreams counted as a power, then they were the same, both limited. He remembered a brief news clip, a fleeting glimpse of the craftsman, hunched over intricate machinery, and a detail, a subtle shimmer around the tools, that felt eerily familiar, dreamlike. Just like the void. Except, the void really was a dream. But none of that mattered now. What mattered was getting out of this room. Now. As if sensing Jack''s desperate wish, Harris started to talk again. "Are you sure you are not hiding anything from me?" the detective asked once more, his eyes narrowing. Then he adds his suspicion, perhaps his ultimate goal, "Are you sure you are not connected to the Abyss?" Jack leaned back, attempting a casual air that felt utterly false. "Detective, you already have my ID. I''ve got no chip because I''ve got no powers. I''ve got nothing to hide." Harris stared at him for a long moment, his eyes searching for any sign of deception. "You seem awfully tense for someone who''s supposedly innocent." He picked up the medical report on the table. "And Mister White''s sudden miraculous healing? The labs have never seen anything like the substance found in his blood. It''s almost organic. And you were there. You were the only other person there." Jack felt a cold sweat dampen his palms. "Well, coincidence?" "It all happened so fast you know.." he answered. Harris sighed, rubbing his temples. After a while, the detective caved. "Fine. You''re free to go. But don''t leave the city." He looked at the ID card again. "Without the chip, you''re a ghost. You could be anywhere, doing anything." Jack stood, his legs feeling unsteady. "Not like I''ve got anywhere better to be." He gave the detective one last look. "But I''m gonna watch a movie. Right. Now." he said seriously. "And I''m gonna see a comedy movie." Then he left the interrogation room. Leaving Harris scratching his chin. ..... Before he walked out of the police station, having escorted by a police staff, he looked around once more for Olo''s shadows. But did not find him everywhere. There was something that he remembered that night about the officer, but then he deemed it unimportant now since he won''t be coming back here ever again. And with that, he left. But as he walked out of the station, he could feel Harris''s gaze burning into his back, a silent promise of further scrutiny, perhaps? The questions weren''t over. And in this world, questions led to dangerous answers. The buzzing of the lights seemed to amplify, a constant, irritating reminder of his precarious situation. *BOOM* Jack found himself sitting dab smacked in the middle of chattering children and their oblivious parents. He was wedged into the cold, plastic chair of the cheap and old movie theater, the air thick with the sugary scent of popcorn and the high-pitched squeals of excited kids. On the giant screen, Toothless, the animated black dragon, flitted across the sky, flying high and flying free, a stark contrast to Jack''s suffocated situation. It was so clear... the image on screen was almost so painfully vivid; he was still reeling from the sudden, unnerving clarity of his vision. He shifted stiffly. The plastic creaking beneath him. The dragon''s effortless flight on the colossal screen only amplifies the weight of his own anxiety, pressing down on him like the theater''s low, grimy ceiling. Jack stuck out like a sore thumb. A lone figure in a sea of brightly colored jackets of all sizes, excited whispers and high pitched tantrums of spoiled brats. Parents cast him sidelong glances. Their brows furrowed with suspicions. A young man, alone, no child in tow, clutching a bucket of popcorn like a treasured possession. Watching an animated dragon dance across the screen? He could almost hear their unspoken accusations. He groaned quietly, a low rumble in his throat. "They probably think I''m some kind of¡­ pervert." Jack mumbled to himself. I don''t wanna go back to the police station being falsely accused of being... whatever they think I am... He yanked his hood further over his head, pulling the drawstrings tight, transforming himself into a shadowy, even more conspicuous figure. Jack decided, with a weary sigh, that he couldn''t muster the energy to care about their perceptions. They''d already abandoned the seats surrounding him, treating him like a walking plague, a contagious stain on their family outing. Chill out. He wanted to snap, his voice trapped in the confines of his throat. "I just want to watch the damn movie quietly. The movie I paid for with my hard-earned, emergency-fund-draining money." Jack whispered to himself. He lacked the courage to voice his frustration aloud, to risk another confrontation. Or so he desperately convinced himself. I''m bad at conflicts.. Best to avoid it if I could, as early as possible. He can feel someone looking at him, an unseen gaze. He''s sure of it. A prickling sensation, crawling across his skin, making him itchy. Jack whipped his head around. And came face to face with an old lady with smeared crimson lipstick drawn into her lips, seated directly behind him, with one empty seat setting them apart. The elderly woman has a ghostly white face, and a jarringly mismatched neck, maybe in her forty-ish? He judged mentally. She''s openly glaring at him. His eyes darting beside her. She''s with a kid, a boy no older than 10 maybe? "Jesus," he muttered, turning his head around, and forcing his attention back to the screen. Save it ghost lady. He said to himself. I ain''t going anywhere. He needed to extract some semblance of enjoyment from this cinematic ordeal, to make the wasted money feel less like a cruel joke. "It better be worth my time," he grumbled, echoing the hollow promise he''d made to himself. "How to Train Your Dragon," he whispered, the title a bitter irony. A far cry from the raucous comedy he''d impulsively declared to Harris, a nervous blurt, a flimsy shield against the detective''s piercing gaze, not a genuine desire. Well, I think it''s still a comedy movie nonetheless.. albeit animation, and a kid''s movie. The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. He shifted uncomfortably, the plastic seat squeaking in protest. "This is just my luck," he grumbled, tugging at the collar of his worn-out plaid hoodie. "Ever since Kai, that speed-freak neighbor, banged on my door, it''s been a disaster." He winced, remembering the sharp sting of his stubbed pinkie toe. "Maybe that was a warning. A premonition of the day''s impending doom." Jack glanced around the theater, a wave of self-pity washing over him. He should have used the money for new pants, not a children''s movie. But he''d been so determined to stick to his "day off" plan, to prove to himself, and maybe even to Harris, that he was just a normal guy. Plus, he''d half-convinced himself that the detective might be tailing him, checking to see if he was actually going to watch a movie. He sighed, the sound lost in the cacophony of excited children. He slouched further into his seat, crossing his arms and fixing his gaze on the screen. Jack tried to focus on Toothless.. Hours later, he found himself sniffing and crying. It was good. He wondered if it was really just a kids'' movie; there were some parts that were a bit violent, but¡­ as long as you had your parents with you, they could just shield their children''s eyes... "Is this what movies are like now?" he murmured, a hint of confusion in his voice. He was thinking that, if it was a kid''s movie, they would all sing and dance happily about anything and everything. This is unexpected. "So this is what it''s like watching on a big screen?" he murmured, his voice laced with a newfound understanding with this new experience. "Now I get why those teenagers at the convenience store were always raving about going to see the movies in a big screen." This is my first time stepping inside a movie theater. He remembered, then, a flicker of a memory, a cramped living room in their rundown house, the flickering glow of their small television screen. Jack remembered watching movies with his adopted siblings, a rare moment of shared escape. The protagonist of the movie, a teenager, was watching a movie alone inside a cinema... When suddenly, he was thrown inside the movie that he was watching. He remembered it because it was very interesting. What was the movie again? The last standing hero? Oh, right.. it''s The Last Action Hero. Arnold Schwarzenegger was it...? It was an old movie. A relic from a bygone era, filmed in 1993. Before the Superpowered Era. The only movie they owned, watched and re-watched in that house. They watched it at 2015... he was twelve years old then. And now it''s 2025, thirty two years old for the movie... and ten years ago for him. Ten years since he''d last felt that shared, fleeting sense of connection. Still sniffling, he decided it was time to retreat, to escape the lingering emotions and forget all about it. But as he stood to leave from the sticky theater seats, his hands at the bucket with half a popcorn left, he was intercepted by the old lady from before. "You''re Jack, right?" she asked, her voice raspy. He looked at the old woman, surprise flickering across his face, quickly replaced by a guarded defensiveness. Jack waited, more paralyzed than tense, for her next words. A hint of something unreadable swirling in her eyes. She spoke, the words hanging in the air, a silent, unseen weight. Jack''s eyes went wide at what the woman said. Then a deafening ''Boom'' ripped through the cinema, the sound vibrating through the seats and sending a jolt of panic through the audience. Suddenly, Susan and The Abyss "You''re Jack, right?" a raspy female voice asked him. There was a hint of disbelief in her words, as if she couldn''t quite believe it. A faint tremor of recognition sparked in her as their eyes met. "You''re really Jack!" her eyes were now full of confidence, that I was indeed the Jack she knew. Surprise flickered across his face. What was this mad woman saying? His expression quickly hardened into a guarded defensiveness. He waited. More like paralyzed than tense, for her next words, a hint of something unreadable swirling now in her eyes. "It''s me," she whispered, her voice cracking. "Susan." her face expectant. As if waiting for him to say her name. Like he would instantly remember someone crazy like this ''Susan'' in front of him. How many ''Susan''s'' do you think I know? Jack narrowed his eyes. I''ve known... .... ???? Hang on.. I only know one Susan. Susan... Jack''s eyes widened, a wave of disbelief washing over him. Susan? That Susan? The older kid, Susan, who always tried to protect him and their other adopted siblings? The one who ran away? An old wound deep inside Jack has reopened. He closed his eyes and opened them right away, taking a deep breath in the process. Trying to bandage the image of an open wound inside his head. Wouldn''t want it to fester. He stared at the Susan in front of him. Yes, it must be really her. Susan. He remembered all their names even if he don''t want to: Susan, Becca, Jared, and Cole. Jack was not the youngest of them.. It''s Cole. But Susan, the oldest, the first foster kid, had left the deepest mark. So she wasn''t forty-something¡­ thirty, maybe thirty-one? But she looked so¡­ aged. What happened? She was eight years his senior. Huh. She really looks old. Jack couldn''t get over the fact that, the aged woman before him was the pretty teenager he remembered. It was a far cry transformation from the one the neighbor boys would crane their necks to glimpse as they played baseball across the yard¡ªthe one he was so desperate to be a part of. But can''t.. That was 2012, he was nine, she was sixteen, almost seventeen, already wielding her powers. He remembered being awed at seeing her powers for the first time. Front row at that too. ... He hadn''t seen her in ten years, not ever since she abandoned them in that damn house. She was the one that triggered its slow, agonizing collapse. Their adoptive parents, terrified she''d report them to the police¡ªand expose the horrors they''d inflicted¡ªhad descended into madness. And that was the day Cole died, in the chaos that she left behind He didn''t know what to feel, a chaotic mix of shock, disbelief, and a flicker of something he dared not name. In a twisted way, he understood her desperation. Everyone relied on Susan, even him, but who did Susan have to rely on? She had to take the first chance she could get to escape, once a window of opportunity arises. Tears streamed down Susan''s face, her aged features contorting with raw, unfiltered emotion. She reached out, her hands trembling, and pulled him into a desperate, clinging hug. Jack stood there, stiff and unyielding, letting her hold him, the familiar scent of her old perfume stirring long-dormant memories. "Oh, Jack," she sobbed, her voice muffled against his worn-out hoodie. "I thought¡­ I thought I''d never see you again." "I''m so glad you are doing alright... I saw you on the tv once.." She pulled back, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, a watery smile breaking through her tears. "This is Cole," she said, gesturing to the black-haired boy beside her. "My son." Jack''s breath hitched. Cole. The name echoed in his mind, a painful reminder of their lost brother, the one Susan left behind. *KABOOM* Before he could speak, a deafening sound ripped through the cinema. The sound vibrating through the seats and sending a jolt of panic through the audience. The walls shook, debris raining down from the ceiling. Outside, screams mingled with the roar of destruction. The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. *BOOM* *BOOM* *BOOM* A relentless barrage of explosions rattled the cinema, the ground vibrating with each earth-shattering impact. Jack instinctively ducked, his taller body shielding Susan and her son as rubble rained from the cracking ceiling. Suddenly, the air around Susan shimmered, distorting the light like heat haze. But instead of heat, the air seemed to slow down, to thicken. He watched. A flicker of recognition in his eyes; he had seen this before. Susan''s superpower. Temporal Distortion. Time Warping. The time itself seemed to warp around Susan, Cole, and him. Falling scattered pieces from the ceiling hung suspended in mid-air, the screams outside stretched into drawn-out, distorted wails. Susan moved with an eerie slowness, yet her movements were precise, deliberate. "What do you think you''re doing?" she asked, her voice strained. "We both know you don''t have superpowers, Jack. Don''t try to be a hero." she''s pointing out how he tried to shield them. "Right," he retorted, his voice laced with bitterness. Right, of course she would know. She mentioned seeing him in tv once right? Must be that one time.. my fifteen minutes of shame. "Well, at least I try to live like a decent human being with my conscience intact, unlike you." The hurtful dig hung in the air, a raw, unspoken accusation. She flinched. Hurt and shame flickered across Susan''s face. Jack immediately felt a pang of guilt. Dammit. Me and my goddamn mouth. Silence descended, thick and heavy, only to be shattered by another deafening BOOM. "We don''t have enough time," Susan said, her voice distorted, yet clear, as if she were speaking through thick liquid. "I think they''re targeting this area." Jack looked around. He saw the other people, the parents who had glared at him earlier, now using their powers to protect themselves and their families. Some wielded telekinesis, deflecting debris with invisible force, while others transformed their hands into curved metal shields. Miraculously, there seemed to be no casualties¡ªyet. Suddenly, an ear-splitting alarm blared, an emergency red alert that tore through the cinema like a knife. Panic surged through the crowd. Susan grabbed Cole''s hand, her grip tight. "We need to get to the underground evacuation area," she said, her voice strained. "Now!" The theater doors burst open, and the crowd surged out, enveloped in a chaotic mix of fear and determination. Jack followed Susan and Cole, while his eyes was scanning the chaos outside. The once-familiar street was a scene of devastation. Rubble littered the ground, and smoke billowed from shattered windows of the surrounding establishments. People fled in different directions, some using their powers, others simply running. It was a total shitshow. He looked back at the antique movie theater where they had emerged. The signage, on the verge of falling to the ground, hung precariously by a single bolt. It stood amidst a handful of small, unassuming buildings: a diner, a laundromat, a barely-open convenience store. This wasn''t the bustling city center, but even here, the destruction was palpable. What on Earth is going on? It''s like he''s been transferred to a different world like that movie from his childhood. It''s different from when he entered the theater earlier, after leaving the police station. Emergency vehicles, sirens wailing, raced down the street. The SERT. Their faces grim, were already pulling people from the collapsed structures, using their superpowers. The movements are efficient and practiced like they have done it a thousand times. No group of superheroes or SPA¡ªyet, just the hard-pressed SERT, doing what they could to help civilians. Jack felt utterly disconnected from all the happenings around him. His eyes wandered back to where they came from, he squints his eyes against the brightness of the afternoon sun. Three figures standing atop the theater. There were no people there earlier. He thought. Who are they? ... The Abyss? No way.... Wanna Play a Game? "No way..." Jack mumbled, his eyes fixed on the three figures atop the theater. He couldn''t make out their appearance because of the sun behind them, but their posture, confident and commanding as they surveyed the chaos below, spoke volumes. Like they''re kings, and we''re peasants. They exuded an aura of malevolence, a clear indication that they were up to no good. Two women and one man, he thought. Though, he couldn''t be certain, he based it only to their body sizes. "The Abyss..." he can''t help but utter. Shit. Bad things keep happening on my first day off! No¡ªscratch that¡ªever since I woke up in that void Usually, I''m not even part of the ten percent when they wreak havoc! I only watched them on TV, on the news. ..... But that was before I awakened my superpowers.. Before the void.. Right, the void. Jack remembered. What can I do in this situation? He knew he should be heading to the evacuation center together with the other civilians right now but.... Jack wants to try something. Maybe... maybe he could experiment? Last time, he''d pulled something from the void in an emergency¡ªwith the robber and Mister White. Maybe... all he needed were situations like this to manifest his powers? I can''t get any better conditions than this.. Not with all this commotion around me... Jack stopped following Susan and Cole, forgetting them entirely. His mind was consumed by the void and the figures he was sure were from the Abyss. He scanned his surroundings once more, to see if there are other people like him¡ªa civilian¡ªthat saw the villains. And to ensure that no one was watching Jack... When he try using his powers. Wouldn''t want to be seen as someone crazy having a seizure if his superpowers did not work as he hope... not that people are stupid and mad as Jack. But he realized it wasn''t just the three Abyss. They are accompanied with... What was that? He felt the color drain from his face, a cold dread settling in his stomach. Dozens of grotesque, monstrous creatures were wreaking havoc on the streets, leaving him stupefied. What are those things? Is that a superpowered ability? Fuck... His eyes snapped back to the Abyss figures. There were only two now. Where did the other one go? Jack ducked behind a closed storefront and a parked car in the alleyway, trying to stay hidden. He scanned the area for the missing figure. Noting the damage that the monsters leave on their wake. Then his heart dropped out of his mouth. He saw Cole walking towards him but he is not looking at Jack. Cole''s head was busy looking around. What? What the hell is this brat doing here? Jack started to feel angry. "Hey, brat!" he whispered harshly, trying to get the kid''s attention. "Pssst! Cole!" whispering and yelling, Jack can feel the bulging of his nerves in his head. Fuck you, Susan, where are you? You leave your fucking kid? Dammit. Is that all you ever know? You don''t change, do you? Jack judged immediately, before knowing the whole truth. "Cole! It''s me, Jack!" Thankfully, the kid''s eyes found him, and Jack saw a wave of relief wash over his face. Cole ran towards him. Time seems so awfully slow. Suddenly, Susan came into view, still very far away, her face etched with worry, he can tell even without his glasses now. Jack stood up. Trying to catch her attention as he waited for Cole, that was now only a few steps away. This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. Thud. Jack''s head whipped around at the sound that seemed so close. A figure stood behind him. A female Abyss member. She looked almost normal, unlike those creatures. But her stark black lipstick and theatrical black makeup screamed "try-hard villain." And she''s wearing a black gothic lolita dress. What are you twelve? Or maybe it just matched the vibe? She stood there, her eyes flickering between Jack, Cole, and Susan, that was now frozen in horror. "Hello, boys..." she purred, her voice laced with malice. "Wanna play a little game?" A game? I''m having a bad enough day as it is, thank you. He wanted to say but did not. If this is all just a game for you people, I''d rather not be a part of it. Instead, as if by instinct, Jack immediately dove towards Cole. Rolling and shielding the boy with his body. He heard a faint, mocking laugh from the emo-styled villain. Shit, shit, shit. I don''t know her powers, but from the way she appeared, she can somehow fly or teleport. Jack''s mind raced, trying to process the situation. Shinggggg... The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Danger! He knew, deep in his gut, that the female was about to use her powers, aiming directly at him. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He scooped up Cole and ran, zigzagging through the debris-strewn street. The boy felt like a dead weight in his arms, his muscles screaming in protest. He wasn''t used to lifting anything heavier than a case of canned coke, no, not a child. When he was at the store, he usually just used strollers. More efficient, making his work more easy. Yet, despite the agonizing strain, he could run with surprising ease. Adrenaline, he thought. And maybe because I finally awakened. Remembering his time inside the bathroom earlier this morning¡ªscrutinizing his suddenly grown muscles in the mirror. And ahem, his face too. Jack run faster. His eyes met Susan''s gaze, still filled with horror, rooted to where she''s standing. He can see her visibly shake. Yes, I''ve done what you could not, he thought. The unspoken words a bitter accusation. Revealing more of what happened to their brother ''Cole''. When someone is in danger, and when they are in front of me, I just cant turn a blind eye. Even if that person is nothing to me. I won''t run away alone. "Like what you did, Susan." Her name sounded so nasty in his lips. *BOOM* *BOOM* *BOOM* The ground shook with each impact as he ran, the gothic villain seemingly toying with him, her attacks barely missing their mark. Suddenly, he felt that familiar, sticky sensation, Susan''s time-warping power, enveloping him and Cole. He breathed a sigh of relief, now he could move faster, but he still had to maneuver carefully. Jack glanced at Susan. Her face was etched with a slow, sad smile, and her lips were moving. He tried to read her words, through the smeared crimson lipstick, her ghostly white face, and the mismatched color of her neck, as if she hadn''t bothered with foundation. "It''s really nice to see you again, Jack! Thank you for saving my son. I owe you..." Then she smiled, a final, heartbreaking smile. What the hell are you saying, woman? he thought, but he didn''t realize what was happening. His eyes were still locked on Susan as he run, when the area around her exploded. She was thrown through the air, her body twisting unnaturally. She landed on the ground, her eyes open, vacant, lifeless. Jack stared, frozen in horror.