A Hero No More

It's funny, I’ve hidden from folks before but never like this. Never in the back of a preschool janitor's closet in my pajamas - because police decided to knock on my door at seven in the morning. Their paranoia seemed to have reached a breaking point, which was bizarre since it all happened yesterday.

And it wasn't even my fault entirely. He was a complete and total villain - no denying it. For some reason I was charged with the task of keeping him in line - at least that's how it started - until he crossed the line. Superhero lifestyle and choices and obligations were never my forte but a quick adaption I had to make. Still… the line got blurry.

A knock sounded on the closet door just as my boot sunk into the mop bucket.

Some old and very clearly tired school teacher must've thought I was the janitor. Told me hurriedly about some kid chucking his guts in the library and how I should hop to it. I deepened my voice to a man, said something along the news of yes ma’am, and listened to her footsteps recede. Couldn't decide if they were sandals or heels or some mix of both.

I sighed, quietly. Activated my suit. It crawled over my skin with a speed that still amazed me. Masked my face, and pulled my hair back. For a moment I could remember Alicia and me trying it on. She was my tech. The only one who knew everything about my story and abilities. The one I vented to about all the tales and problems and how many times I’d had a car thrown at me in a single day. She always laughed. Always cried with me. But it seems the public has convinced her I'm not who she thinks I am. That's what they all think now. Instead of the same old charade of putting a criminal in jail or tying him to a light pole or something - I killed him. A purposeful accident was how I described it. No one bought it. Suddenly their beloved superhero was a killer - and no one knew what to do with me. Fear me. Thank me. No. Ethan Burns - the great foe of New York - was dead and I was at fault. It wasn't viewed as a heroic saving grace but a sin. For some reason - I doubt I’ll ever figure it out.

The hall was silent. I slid out the door, dashing towards the nearest opening. A flurry of kindergarten finger paintings stuck to the wall, playdoh sculptures riddling the floor. I smiled at the innocence of these kids. The joy and colors and -

Your kidding.

I stopped on a dime, staring down at one of the sculptures. Bright purple and pink playdoh - arranged in quite the scene. A Girl in a cape, impaling a boy with a stoplight pole hovering in the air. The small name card read:

‘The Killer Hero
By Emily Clark
Grade 1’

It would appear… I was staring at a memorial of me killing a boy in the streets made from dough in the hands of a five-year-old. Fantastic.

It took more strength than I knew I had not to incinerate it on the spot as I turned to the wall.

My wristwatch read the data for me while I cooled down. Shaking off the anger and frustration. Brick wall. It divided mass by density and gave me the numbers to punch in. Phasing the molecules of my body to the same destiny but at perfect speed and distance. I held my breath, a habit I’d developed since the first few test runs, and eased into the wall. One step and I phased right through it. Nothing but a tickle on my skin as I adjusted back to normal. It was much easier to lower my density to go through things than the opposite. The few times I had attempted to make the density of my body rock solid to stop a car or train or falling building took at least a few minutes to reset. Even longer before I attempted a jump or teleport of any kind. Tricky things, super powers.

I marched towards the back of the playground and leapt into the air, taking off gently to catch my breath. I didn't have a clue were to go or what to do. But that wasnt what truly was bothering me. No. It was the fact that I - as eighteen year old girl who somehow got these abilities - was wordlessly tasked with protecting an entire city. No training. No support. It was just… expected. No one cared about me until they saw that I could fly and teleport and walk through walls. And sure there was great satisfaction in a job well done - I loved saving people and helping in all those ways but there was something off about it. And when Ethan, some boy in a mask robbing banks and slashing tired to kill a woman on a train I couldn't take it. I did kill the vilan but isn’tthat what heros do?

Apparently not.

I touched down on the roof of the nearest building, fuming. I’d never felt myself so mad, so angry at those who I once tolerated. Who once supposedly adored me.

Once I was a moody teenager. Once I could throw fits and argue and do things my way. That all went out the door a year ago. When I changed the skin of my body to a density harder than diamonds, and dove infront of our senator when a rouge gun shot out. An assasination attempt. Soon I was as idol with powers and under a lime light of sorts. Interviews money and love and adoration - all when I played their part. Until I strayed from the script. Killed instead of protected.

I paused. A small smile spreading across my lips.

Fine. I thought to myself. You miss your villain so much…. I hopped onto the edge. Peering down at the bustling city beneath my feet.

Why don't I give you another one.