Let's reach 250 Power Stones for an extra chapter
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I walk the streets. They look the same, but everything feels different. The hospital messed with my head. Nothing feels quite real anymore, like I'm seeing the world through a dirty window.
…The bent bed rail… how did that even happen? My hands just… gripped it. It twisted like it was made of plastic. Then the boxes at the old house… I just picked them up, no problem. Ethan even joked about my "super strength." He doesn't know the half of it. He thinks it's funny. I don't.
It's not funny at all. It's terrifying. I'm scared. The comics I used to read, the ones where ordinary people suddenly had powers, they never showed this part. The confusion. The fear. This isn't like anything in those stories. No cool costume, no catchy origin story, just… this. This weirdness inside me. What if I can't control it? What if I hurt someone?
I duck into a deserted alley, the air thick with the smell of garbage and exhaust fumes. My heart pounds against my ribs. I need to know if it's real. If I'm real. I spot a rusted old dumpster, overflowing with trash. It's perfect. It's heavy, probably full of broken stuff.
I take a deep breath. My palms feel sweaty. This is insane. I'm about to try and lift a dumpster. Me. Jessica Campbell. The girl who always blended in. I brace myself, wrapping my hands around the grimy edge of the dumpster. My knuckles whiten. This can't be happening.
I grasp the dumpster's edge. My muscles tense. This is it. I push. The rusted metal groans, then screeches against the asphalt.
Scrrraape.
The dumpster slides, scraping a deep gouge into the pavement. It feels… light. Too light. My heart leaps into my throat.
"Holy crap," I whisper, staring at the displaced dumpster. "Did I just do that?"
I try again, more gently this time, pushing the heavy bin back into its original spot. It moves with surprising ease. A small smile touches my lips. Okay, so I'm strong. Really strong. What else?
I look up at the fire escape, then at the brick wall. A crazy thought sparks in my head. I take a running start, push off the ground, and whoosh, I'm flying.
Whoosh!
The wind whips past my face, the alley rushing beneath me. I sail over the brick wall, landing softly on the opposite rooftop. The city stretches out, a sprawling concrete canvas. This feels… amazing. Like I could just keep going.
I leap again, a longer, more powerful jump this time.
Swish!
The sensation is exhilarating, a dizzying rush of speed and height. I bounce from one building to the next, the ground becoming a distant blur. The air is cool and crisp up here, the city sounds muffled below. I feel weightless, free.
"This is incredible," I gasp, a wide grin spreading across my face. "Absolutely incredible."
From my new vantage point, high above the streets, the world shrinks. Buildings become toy blocks, cars look like ants. Then I see it. A small commotion below, near a dimly lit street. Three hulking figures corner a lone woman. One of them shoves her against a wall.
"Hey!" I shout, but my voice gets lost in the city din. They don't hear me. They can't.
My stomach clenches. This isn't right. I can't just watch. Not anymore. I clench my fists. I'm coming down there.
I drop from the rooftop, landing with a soft thud that still rattles the pavement. The gang members turn, startled, their predatory grins faltering as they see me.
"Leave her alone," I say, my voice steady, surprising even myself.
One of them, a bulky guy with a snarling scorpion tattooed on his neck, steps forward. "Mind your own business, sweetheart, or you'll regret it." He lunges, his fist a blur.
I instinctively throw up an arm. The punch connects with a sickening crack, but it's him who cries out in pain, clutching his hand.
"What the hell?" he screams, his face contorted. "My hand! What did you do?"
Another charges, a switchblade glinting in the dim light. I parry awkwardly, the blade scraping harmlessly against my forearm, leaving only a faint, silver line. I push back, my untamed strength sending him sprawling into a pile of trash cans. They clatter loudly as he lands.
"What just hit me?" he yells from the garbage.
The third man, visibly unnerved, tries to flee. I move with surprising speed, intercepting him, inadvertently slamming him against a brick wall with enough force to leave a visible dent before he slides to the ground, unconscious.
I look at the dent, then at my hands. This is… a lot. The woman I saved scrambles away, wide-eyed, not even thanking me. I don't blame her. I probably look just as terrified as she does. I feel it, too. This isn't a comic book. This is real.
The woman I rescued stumbles back, clutching her purse. Her eyes are wide, darting between me and the unconscious thugs.
"Are you okay?" I ask, my voice sounding a little shaky even to my own ears.
She nods, a quick, jerky motion. "Yes, yes, I'm fine. Thank you. Oh, thank you so much." She looks like she's about to cry, or maybe faint. "You… you saved me."
"Just be careful out here at night," I tell her, my words coming out stiffly. I don't want to answer questions about super strength or flying. She glances at the dent in the wall where I slammed one of the guys, then back at me. Her gratitude feels heavy, something I don't quite know how to carry.
I hear sirens wailing in the distance, growing louder. I can't be here when the cops show up. Not yet. Not like this. I need to figure things out first. I melt back into the shadows, making my escape before the flashing red and blue lights paint the alley.
My heart still thrums, a mix of adrenaline and something else, something… exhilarating. I'm walking fast, not really sure where I'm going, when a discarded newspaper catches my eye. It's plastered with headlines about Iron Man, blurry pictures of Spider-Man swinging through the city, and a mention of "Cipher" from the Harlem incident. Heroes. Vigilantes.
I used to feel invisible, like a ghost walking through life. The accident, losing my family, it just cemented that feeling. Like I was just… there, taking up space, with no real purpose. But out there, in that alley, I felt a surge of something different. A spark. A reason.
Could this be it? Could this be what I'm supposed to do with this… power? If I'm going to do this, really do this, I need to figure out what it means. And maybe, just maybe, I need a costume.
***
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