April 7th, 2011
I always thought getting superpowers would be the best day of my life. If only I knew how wrong I was. You don't get powers on the best day of your life - you get them on the worst. For me, it was at the wake of my parents' funeral, after they died in a car crash on my fifteenth birthday. Before all that, I had been living in Portland with my parents, Daniel and Mary Dweller. My father was a history professor who spent most of his time in his office surrounded by old books, while my mother was an archaeologist who traveled the world finding ancient artifacts. But now I've moved across the country to Brockton Bay, homeless and being mugged by a tweaker with a knife - all in an attempt to be a hero.
"Are you listening? Hand over your money or you're dead!" the mugger shouted, saliva flying from his mouth in rage.
"Just take it, I don't want any trouble," I said, pulling out my wallet and not for the first time wishing my power was more combat-oriented.
"Give it!" the mugger yelled impatiently, waving his knife and grabbing for my wallet.
Before the mugger could get his hands on my wallet, there was a loud crash and a cloud of dust. When it cleared, the mugger was on the ground and standing on his back was a living legend: Glory Girl herself. Her cape billowed in the wind, and the sun shone on her back, making her look even more impressive.
Without a word, she helped me to my feet and handed me my wallet. "Are you hurt?" she asked.
"..." I tried to say something, but I was speechless. Glory Girl was just so amazing that I couldn't think of anything to say.
"Look, sorry to do this, but I'm already late for school. Could you call this in for me?" Glory Girl interrupted, already flying away before I even had a chance to talk to her.
I stood there for a moment, stunned. I had just been saved by a hero - a real-life cape! I fished my phone out of my pocket and dialed 911, reporting the attempted mugging and the hero who had intervened. The operator sounded skeptical at first, but when I mentioned Glory Girl, her tone changed.
"Thank you for letting us know," she said. "We'll take it from here."
As I hung up, I couldn't help but feel a little bit better about my situation. Maybe things were starting to look up for me after all.
THUMP.
I felt a thumping in my chest, and for a moment, everything smelled like green apples. Just as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone. I was shocked; it was the second time this had happened, the first being when I got my power. And just like the first time, it felt like something in me was growing, becoming more than I was before.
Looking back to where Glory Girl had been, she had already disappeared. I never even had a chance to ask her about the Wards program. Looking down at the mugger, I waited for the cops to show up. After eight long minutes of waiting and another conversation with the police, I walked down the street towards the Protectorate building.
Something had happened with my power back there. It was growing, somehow. But I didn't have time to deal with the ramifications of that. Looking up, I realized how low the sun had gotten. Deciding it would be better to register in the morning, I walked into an alley behind an apartment building, ducking out of sight and placing my hand against the brick wall.
I focused on my power, bringing up that same feeling of wanting to hide in my room that allowed me to use my power. A second later, a chunk of the wall pulled back and slid to the side, revealing a white room. It wasn't large, but it was my home - with just enough space for my bed and desk.
As I settled down into my new hideout, I couldn't help but feel a sense of hope for the future. Maybe my powers would be the key to turning my life around after all.
THUMP. FLASH.
My world pulsed in sync with my powers, and again I smelled green apples. I knew the side effects of my powers weren't healthy, but I grabbed a bag of jerky and ignored the warning signs. As I settled in for bed, I couldn't help but think about my future.
Despite my difficult circumstances, I was starting to feel hopeful. With my powers, maybe I could do something good in this world. Maybe I could even be a hero, like Glory Girl. I tried to push aside my fear and doubt, instead focusing on the possibilities my new abilities could bring.
As I drifted off to sleep, I made a promise to myself: I would find a way to use my powers for good, no matter what it took.
….
As I slept, my dreams were filled with places and people I'd never seen before. I saw the curvature of worlds beyond number, the crawling entropy that would lead to the heat death of the Multiverse, and at the very center of it all, I saw the roiling nuclear chaos. Behind me stood a man formed of darkness, and above him floated 13 golden orbs.
"It's time to wake up, Arthur. We have big plans in store for you," said the man-shaped darkness. "Do not fail us."
…
April 8th, 2011
I woke up that morning with the images from my dreams still fresh in my mind, but it was the man formed of darkness and those golden orbs that really stuck with me. Something about them felt familiar, but I couldn't quite place it. I made a mental note to investigate further later on.
As I got out of bed, I did some morning stretches and thought about what I wanted to accomplish that day. I knew that I needed to register with the local Protectorate and learn more about my powers.
I walked over to the wall and placed my hand on it, causing it to pull back and slide to the side, revealing the same alleyway from last night.
THUMP. FLASH.
As the familiar feeling of my powers washed over me, I spun around and marched back into my pocket dimension.
As I entered my hideout, I noticed that my room had expanded, and in the corner sat an industrial-looking pump. My powers had connected to something, filling my head with information. I now had a pump that produced venom - a highly addictive, tinker-tech steroid. The connection gave me both a pump that produced five gallons a day and all the knowledge I needed to make more.
If I had thought my powers were normal, that idea had just gone out the window. Super steroids were not exactly what I would call heroic - rather villainous, actually. I was sure that the Merchants, a local street gang made up of drug dealers and junkies, would love to get their hands on this - not that I would ever let that happen.
Once I was done examining the pump, I left my room and made my way down the road. I took a detour to a little coffee stand I had found during my first week here. The stand was run by an old man named Frank Hurley - a giant of a man, standing six feet tall with hands like catcher's mitts. I bought a cup of coffee and continued on my way towards the Protectorate building.
As I walked, my mind raced with thoughts about my powers and what I could do with them. I knew that I needed to register with the Protectorate, but I also needed to figure out how to use my abilities for good. Maybe I could find a way to make a difference in the world, without resorting to the illegal and dangerous use of drug's..
THUMP.
It happened again - the smell of green apples and another strange connection. This time, it was something called "large workforce." My powers seemed to be telling me that when I got a lair it would have minions and a larger amount of gold for me to find. How would that work? I didn't even have a lair. My power just kept getting weirder and weirder. Did I even count as a normal cape at this point? Could I even explain my powers to the Protectorate, and what would they say? All I had to my name was a medium-sized room with a pump, some steroids, and a vague power about gold and minions. I was halfway to my destination when I accidentally bumped into a cute blonde and her friends.
"Sorry about that," I apologized, running my hand through my hair. "I wasn't looking where I was going."
"Hey, ass hat, you wanna start something!" said a square-faced girl walking a group of scared dogs.
"It's not a problem, Rachel, calm down," the blonde said, straightening her jacket. "It was an accident, he didn't mean it."
Rachel growled at that before crossing her arms over her chest. "Whatever."
Lisa, the blonde, looked annoyed by her friend's behavior and turned to me with a warm smile. "Sorry about that. We're running late for a meeting, so we should probably get going."
Brian, the teen on the far left, wore a smug smirk and added, "Don't worry about it, man. Just stay out of our way."
Lisa rolled her eyes and turned to leave, followed closely by her friends. As they walked away, I felt another thump in my chest and a flash of green apples. But this time, it was different.
THUMP.
Lisa stopped suddenly, turning on the spot and staring above my head. Her eyes were wide, and her face was contorted in fear. She looked like she was seconds from passing out.
"Wh-what is that? Oh God, it's watching us! RUN!" she screamed, running into an alley with her friends right behind her.
Puzzled, I looked up to see what had terrified them. But all I saw was the usual bustling city street. No sign of danger or anything out of the ordinary.
"What the hell was that about?" I muttered to myself, confused and more than a little unnerved. This day just keeps getting weirder and weirder, I thought, making my way towards the Protectorate building with a newfound sense of unease.
…
Fifteen minutes later, I was still on my way to the Protectorate building. If only I had the money to catch the bus, but being homeless really sucks, and that coffee drained the last of my money. Still worth it, though. I couldn't fully wake up without my morning shot of caffeine, so if joining the Wards didn't work out, I was definitely screwed. Trying not to think about the chance of getting turned down, I stepped off the curb and onto the street.
A few feet ahead of me, a set of white lines floating in the air took the shape of a door - then darkness.
…
Where was I again? Oh yeah, I was heading towards the Protectorate building. Opening the front door, I stepped inside and made my way over to the front desk. A plain-faced secretary sat typing away at her computer. As she looked up, I could see her name tag read Lisa Sherts. I gave her a friendly smile, hoping to make a good first impression.
But as soon as she saw me, her face froze, then shifted to fear. Confused by her reaction, I watched as she quickly moved her hand to press something under her desk.
"Excuse me," I said, trying to sound as polite as possible. "Is there something wrong?"
"No, no, everything's fine," she said, her voice shaking slightly. "How can I help you?"
I told her that I was there to register with the Wards and handed over the necessary paperwork. She quickly processed my information, hardly glancing at my sheet. I wondered what could have possibly scared her so much.
THUMP.
Staring off into space, I focused on the connection my power had just made. It was called Harley Quinn and it gave a psychologist-turned-villain with a love of jokes and giant hammers. My power gave me a person from another world with their own life and emotions? What was I supposed to do with that? Either way, I had to get back home soon.
"Sir, I'm going to need you to come with me," said a PRT guard standing behind me. I couldn't see his face, but his tone wasn't friendly.
"Umm, what's going on?" I said, watching as the secretary ducked behind her desk. What the heck was that about? You would think I was robbing them with the way they were acting.
"Sir, please come this way," the guard said, resting his hand on his pistol.
"Okay, just take it easy and tell me what's going on," I said, raising my hands in a placating gesture.
"Put your hands behind your head!" he yelled, whipping out his pistol and pointing it at my chest. "Get on the ground now!"
I slowly put my hands to the back of my head as PRT agents circled around the room, pointing their foam sprayers and guns at me.
"Please, just tell me what I did!" I yelled as an agent moved to cuff me.
That was when everything went white with a bang and a series of pops. When my eyes and ears cleared, I was the only one left, kneeling in a growing pool of blood spreading from the five dead PRT agents laying around me.
THUMP.
I kept hearing it, like a drumbeat in the back of my mind. What the hell had just happened? I had only wanted to register with the Protectorate, but now, somehow, I had five dead agents on the ground.
I looked around, my breathing quickening. This couldn't be real. It had to be some sort of hallucination, right? I would wake up in my bed any moment now.
But the reality of the situation soon hit me like a ton of bricks, and I had no idea how it had happened or what I was going to do next.
I had to leave this place, and fast. Before anyone else came in and found me like this.
With a deep breath, I rose to my feet and began to move towards the exit, my mind racing with fear and confusion.
I needed to think. I needed to understand what had happened to me and how I could make things right. But right now, all I could do was run.
My heart pounding, I burst through the front doors of the building and into the street beyond. I had no idea where I was going or what I was going to do now, but I knew one thing for certain.
THUMP
I was never going to register as a hero again.