Today was the day, Xanders’ last day at Ruthfords’ Market. He had worked his hands to the bone the last six months, scrimping and saving every cent of his meager salary so he could finally afford admission fees. He was a legacy, so he didn't have to worry about exams, but his net worth was roughly equal to his shoe size. Mr. Ruthford was an enormous miser, but he was decent to his employees, understanding about personal situations. A decent man.

“What do you mean you’re quitting? I’ve got you on a double for tomorrow!”

Mostly understanding. Today was the last day of Xanders’ two week notice, but Mr. Ruthford had a short memory. Always scheduling people on days they had off, having employees pull doubles when they were scheduled for single shifts, forgetful was all. A decent man.

“It’s my last day, sir, I’m joining the academy. My schedule is packed from now to Friday, I couldn’t come in tomorrow even if I still worked here.” He said it levelly and peaceably, simply stating the fact.

“Don’t you sass me!” Mr. Ruthford roared it, his face veiny and red. A decent man. “Now get your apron on and get your ass in back!” Decent man. “That truck won’t unload itself!” Decent. “You’re wasting my time and my money!”

Punch him. In the nose. As hard as you can. Xander tried not to listen to that voice, it always sounded compelling but it never had any good ideas. It did sound compelling, though. Very compelling. He took a deep breath, looked his boss in the eye, and smiled.

“Take care, Mr. Ruthford. I hope you find those expired eggs, I hid them pretty well.” While his former boss was still stunned, Xander spun around and strode out the door into the busy street, leaving Ruthfords’ Market behind him. He was half a block away, lost in the crowd when he heard Ruthford behind him shouting his head off. He didn’t really hide any eggs, but it might be weeks before Ruthford realized that. This was almost as good as punching the man. Almost. But still pretty good.

He found himself smiling as he walked away. Better yet, he was humming! It was a song he heard all the time as a kid, but he could never quite get the tune down. Whenever he started humming back in the store Ruthford would always chide him, some line or another about wasting his time, but he couldn’t stop Xander now! He hummed away, grinning ear to ear. He loosened his tie, and felt his shoulders rise, the weight of four months of exploitative employment finally lifted.

Things are gonna be different. That was his last thought before the back of his head exploded with pain.

He didn’t pass out, not really. He couldn’t say how long he was on the ground, but it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds, any longer than that, and his attacker would have already been back on him. A piercing scream snapped him out of it and he scrambled to his feet, facing his assailant.

He was big, six and a half feet tall and built like a bus. He wore cargo pants and a black tank top. His hands were small wrecking balls made of hardened corrupted flesh, jagged and vicious. Black veins crawling up his arms and neck, webbed across his face, eyes nothing more than two black pits. His face twitched, his mouth switching back and forth from smile to frown, and just showing his teeth in between. People were running from him, screaming and dashing into the street. Low-speed collisions were happening everywhere, the passengers abandoning their cars to join the rush.

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He’s corrupted. Just corrupted. Not a corrupter. He wasn’t controlled enough to be a corrupter. More than likely someone else's' goon trying to make a name for his boss. The Patriarch, maybe? Or the Director? Those two were always having turf disputes, but this wasn’t either of their territories. A loner? Not too many in the city now.

It didn’t matter, not now. What mattered was the living bulldozer that was starting to walk toward him. I can do this. Dodge his attacks, wait for an opening, and sever the calcifications. When he’s off balance, run him through the heart. It was textbook, his mother taught him everything he needed to pull it off. Training training training. All he had to do was draw his-

His sword. He didn’t have his sword. He never brought it to work, Ruthford would have had a fit. No gun either. He wasn’t much good with the gun, but it would have been better than nothing. Too bad nothing was the only thing in healthy supply. He was completely defenseless, and that really big guy was coming closer. Getting faster. Charging, even. Right at Xander, who was just standing there, staring like a deer in headlights. Panicking. All he could hear was the bulldozers pounding footsteps. Or is that my heart? He could have dodged it, rolled out of his path, but he was half a second too late to do much of anything. Anything, except raise his hands and cower.

It was so loud, the impact. He didn’t expect that. It rang in his pounding head, which must have been splattered on the concrete. Except, his head didn’t feel splattered. There was a lot of pain, but it was all still in one place. He cautiously opened his eyes, and he could still see. I’m alive. He looked around for the bulldozer, but he was nowhere to be seen. He spun, scanning his surroundings until Xander found him.

The man was half-embedded into the side of the building across from him, twenty feet up, splayed out like a starfish. What the hell? Did I do that? Xanders’ hands were still outstretched, and he examined them. His palms were hot. They were glowing. Now he noticed it, he felt his energy flowing into them. His mother could shoot beams of energy from her fingers, high intensity needle-thin lasers that could cut through steel as easily as corrupted flesh. That was her Aspect.

Is this mine?

The bulldozer was working himself loose, he already had one arm free. He slammed his rock fist into the building and brought the entire chunk he was stuck in came crumbling down, him with it. He landed face first on the concrete, black ooze forming a small puddle around him. He dug his fists into the ground and forced himself to his feet, several teeth missing from that twitching face, the nose bent at an obscene angle. He roared and started charging again, right at Xander.

Whatever Xander did earlier, he tried to do it again, fully expecting to smeared. He was surprised when the ball of energy shot from his hand and slammed into the bulldozers chest, sending him flying. He skipped on the road like a rock on water, getting lodged in a car this time.

The heat drained from Xanders’ hands, and the rest of him went cold. All the strength was gone, and he fell to his knees, shaking and breathing hard. He couldn’t catch his breath. His vision was going blurry. This time, he did pass out.