There is one thing I’ve always thought about, something I’ve been trying to figure out my entire life.

What type of superhero am I going to be?

Obviously, I don’t want to be like spider-man. I can’t be the type of person who makes promises, breaks them, and suffers no consequences other than getting a fourth love interest.

Definitely not an anti-hero, I’m not going to kill anyone, or even seriously injure anybody for that matter. I’m not a rugged badass, I know I’ve given you proof of that. And there is no fucking way I can be a paragon. I can’t handle the biggest threats in this universe. I can’t destroy a damn skyscraper, let alone eat it, whatever that means.

This is sort of a weird choice, but the type of hero I always see myself as being like is moon knight. If you know the character, your first impression is probably to assume something to do with him being a schizophrenic, but I’m not talking about that. I never expected to get powers, so I thought I’d just be going up against people like his classic villains. E-listers.

The fist of khonshu isn’t nearly as effective as literally any other hero. At the start he had no powers, no crazy tricks, just his martial prowess (poor in comparison to most characters), a french guy in a helicopter, and whatever random bull he can pull out of his ass.

I thought I’d be like that. Not so sure anymore.

I practiced SP2 like I said. Two things I was able to pick up.

I can turn lights off remotely, But I can’t turn them on.

I can stop myself from smelling. As in releasing an odour.

Yeah, nothing big, but I’ve been working on it for like a week, so I think I’m doing pretty good for myself.

Those tiny party tricks saved me just fine.

Still can’t say what the actual power is, but who doesn’t like a good mystery right? Maybe you’ll piece it together with what little I’ve said?

Probably not though, it’s weird.

You’re probably sick of hearing about my school life, but that’s important for this story. Currently my school’s in the middle of exams. Mock exams, but I still try my best. As hard as a guy can try while bleeding out.

Can’t exactly go to a hospital, can I? I’m not even talking about explaining how I got these weird wounds from twenty-foot-tall deep-sea creatures and a chick with a shotgun. I’m thinking about what they’ll do once they find out they can’t give me stitches. Near impenetrable skin, remember?

That being said, I don’t have much of an idea what can and can’t harm me. Like sometimes getting shot in the ‘D’ hurts, sometimes it doesn’t. Maybe it’s something to do with muscle contractions, or nerves, or arteries. How the hell am I supposed to figure this out, I didn’t do well in the biology test for a reason

During the exam week period, the regular school schedule is replaced with an exam time table. If you don’t have an exam on a day or in a timeslot, you just go home or don’t come in at all. Pretty sound idea, gives people time to study for their next test, or gives you time to run down to dingle to fight a sea witch half a week early.

But that’s not today’s story. I’ve fought Feoli tons of times, and though she’s thrown a lot of freaky fish at me and there’s been a lot of close shaves, there's been nothing surprising. That’s just my ordinary life now. I’m only going to be posting about stuff that’s out of the ordinary. Or a change to my status quo.

Here’s the scenario. We’re over half way through the exam block. Finished half of our tests. Somebody gets the bright idea that we need a break from it all. The children need a real break. From all the stress of these exams.

Before you know it, I’m sandwiched between Saoirse and Izzy on a bus to Killarney. Despite its close proximity, I’ve never been to Killarney before, I might have been excited to see the place, if it weren’t for the fact that we were missing out on valuable study time. Well, I say that, but most people don’t care about that.

I do. I’d like to have been able to say I gave it my best shot.

“But like, why the fuck are they taking us to the forest? Listen, only reason I’m going to this shite is because Trixie O’neill is, (an’ don’t tell ‘er I was sayin shit) but, she’s a prissy bitch like. So, she won’t come off, but she won’t go in without me neither, so I’m all, ‘fine yah doppie cow but I’m not goin’ unless Eoife’s coming’ so now she tinks I’m a bitch for maken her come.”, came a southern Irish accent through one ear.

“Shit, I can’t believe this. I thought this was something people were going to. I’ve been here less than a week, and they’re sending me off to the woods?? Fuck sake. So, where’s your Mullet?? Did you not want him to come, or have you moved on??”, came a northern Irish accent in through the other.

“Bitch! He’s mine, don’t let anyone tells you otherwise. He’d have come if he could, I told him to. But instead of gettin suspended, he’s been banned from coming with us to this shite.” Knowing Saoirse, she was probably happy to hear that.

Mullet is the type of guy to have a fantasy version of a girl built up in his mind. You know how on the internet people build up impossible ‘gf’ stereotypes. Like reducing someone to a specific architype by looking at a few quirks of personality or appearance. I’m pretty sure Mullet thought of Saoirse as ‘the transfer student’. So I can understand wanting some distance from him.

I spent a near two hour-long bus journey stuck between the two, wondering to myself, why did I even come in today?

The answer that I came to is that the girl in my art class I like might have been going, so I should go.

Does that make me sound stalkery? It’s not like I overheard she was going and decided to go, I just thought she might go, so why shouldn’t I? I was groaning internally for the rest of the trip.

“Wake up skunk stink.”

Or maybe I slept through most of it.

“Christ, you know you breathe through your mouth when you sleep? Gives us a really good chance to take in the garlic you ate for breakfast.” I knew for a fact I didn’t stink; I used my SP2 to deal with that.

I don’t think I smell bad normally, but they’ve got me self-conscious about it now. So I experimented. Tried using my SP2 on a limited portion of my body. Without leaking too much info, the basic premise of it is that I can nullify some things. Or maybe I’m just saying that to mislead you.

Above my secret identity, my techniques, fears, the one thing I need to keep secret is my SP2.

I got rid of pheromones, dead skin, sweat; Now I smell like… nothing really.

As I was getting up, I wondered if maybe SP2-ing my stink away got rid of something important.

The good stink. I heard somewhere that humans can slightly communicate through smells. I don’t know how true that is, but it’s better not to take any chances. Just incase I do smell.

“Mullet?” Waiting right outside the bus, there he was. He was wearing a grey and black tracksuit, and for some reason sunglasses.

Was he on weed? Probably. Izzy ran over to hug him. I’m worried about the foundation of their relationship, but I think that’s sweet. He hugged her back and turned to face the man responsible for this trip.

“Mullet, why aren’t you in school uniform?” Mr Bio wore a puzzled expression on his face, forgeting entirely that Mullet was ‘banned’. He wore one of those aussie hats on the trip. You know the ones; tasselly bits with the corks on them. Other than that, he wore his normal shirt and tie, with the addition of cacky shorts. “I’m not in school sir. I’m on my day off, and sometimes on my days off, I like to drive for 2 hours straight into the middle of Killarney national park.”

There was a little laughing and cheering, it got me to crack a smile. It was a little cool to show up just to spite ‘the man’.

I don’t think Mr Bio found it too funny, though he did push out a laugh. “Alright, alright! Don’t have too much fun! In three hours, we’re all going to meet back up here in your assigned pairs! Go on then. Go… get into some trouble!” Then he just turned to go to a little kiosk in the visitor’s area.

I should try to explain the setting. I did a little google search of the place, nothing too outstanding. Something like 10Km squared of forest, with a big lake. The part we were in now was relatively civilised. Lot of parking space, camping ground, knick-knack shops, what else would you expect. It’s a forest. I guess we were all thinking it would have something more set up. A scavenger hunt or something?

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Someone called out, I don’t remember who, “Uh, sir? What’re we supposed to actually do?” He turned back to us for a moment, that puzzled look returned to his face before he announced, “You can do whatever you want. So long as you stick to your pairs, be back in 3 hours, and take your minds off those tests!”

Everybody responded with a dumb silence. Cause that’s about the only reception you can give to an authority figure trying to do you a favour, when in actuality they are screwing you over.

“Ok?” Grunts of agreeance abound.

Can you believe who I was partnered up with? A funny thing about teachers is that they think you’re friends with whoever you sit beside, well, at least the unobservant ones do. For the first 15 minutes I tagged along with them, a big group consiting of Mullet, Izzy, Saoirse, Trixie, Eoife and a whole lot of other people I haven’t talked about yet.

Mullet hollered at me, “Yo, Sam, what’s in the bag?”

“Hey, first tell me why you’re wearing sunglasses in a country with a thousand different words for rain.” That got a giggle out of him, and a tap to the temple.

Yeah, I hung out with them, until I realised, I only have to stick to my partner at the end, when we get back on the bus.

“I’m headed to the toilets. I’ll catch up later.” I received a few affirmatives and turned from the herd for good. “Hold up Sam! I gotta go too.” As Saoirse jogged over to me, Mullet let out a snicker, at least that’s what I think it was, judging by his expression. Whatever the case, Izzy gave him a hard elbow to the gut.

I knew she was dumb, but she must really be an idiot if she thinks it’s alright to go to the bathroom attached to the class weirdo.

“What actually is your fucking deal Sam??” “I looked back for a second. “My deal?”

“You seemed just fine back there. Just like anybody else. Little plain, little passive, but whatever. Why the hell are you such a douche about talking to people?? All that crap about being a dirty mark on my social life? ‘Simply a stepping stone’ is what I think you said. Can you please explain to me why you need to back off from me?”

I’d nearly made it to the toilets. “Didn’t you see Mullet? Just by associating yourself with me your getting laughed at.” She proded my with a poke to the chest. “Jesus, you think they’re laughing because you’re a loner? He laughed cause you’re a boy and I’m a girl. He’s got a one track mind like that. Hate to repeat what I said back when we met, but it’s just banter! There’s nothing wrong with that. All you’ve got to do is ‘associate’ with people. Say you’re friends and that’ll do.”

She said something I didn’t like; can’t remember what it was exactly. Whatever shit she was saying, I wasn’t having it. I turned and brought a finger down in front of her. “Geewiz! That’s a swell idea! While I’m at it, I’ll just pretend nobody looks at me like a piece of roadkill.”

She backed off, I had broken her stride. “Maybe you don’t fucken understand, but this? Back outside the biology class? That’s my life! I wake up, go to school, get glanced over, eat, sleep, repeat. That’s me! In two years, one of those’ll get switched out for ‘go to work’. That’s not the life of a h- that’s not the sort of person you can be ‘friends’ with. That’s a fucking void.”

She- fuck, she looked scared. Sam scared a supervillain, good for him. “Jesus, Sam, you- You’re just a normal guy…” she took a step back.

Reflecting on it now, I regret shouting at her, but something she said really had ticked me off. “Right, what’s it to you? You left your life behind and made a new one in a day. Do you think I could pull that off?” I calmed down a little, maybe she took notice.

She resolved herself, “Someone told me I was trash… But they also said I could be better. So, I’m going to do it. I’m going to go out of my way to tell you what you need to hear. There is nothing. Fucking. Wrong with you Sam. You just need to try.” That beat me.

I think she was talking about me when she said ‘someone’; Shamrock. I didn’t want to think about what she was saying, so I made a defeated grunt and went to the men’s toilets.

She doesn’t get it. I just can’t explain it. I’m not like everyone else, I’ve made some fatal flaw along the way. I’m missing something deep down that I just can’t place. There’s something between me and everyone else that just doesn’t mesh. Sam vs the world.

I need this mask, I need to become someone else, I need-

“-One of you to suck my dick! Hahaha!”

What the fuck?

Walking into the bathroom I saw a thirty-year-old man dancing around with his trousers around his ankles. His hairy balls helicoptering around.

I crept into the closest stall while he had his ass to me, both to shield my eyes and to stop him from noticing my entrance, if he hadn’t already. He started singing, “I know you don’t get a chance to take a break this often! I know your life is speeding and it isn’t stopping!” He was not good.

There were other people in the bathroom, hell, you might be able to hear him from outside. Why was this crack head here? Why did he have to be here while I was here? I couldn’t just walk out; I was mad at Saoirse. But I know someone who’s great with crack heads. What’s in the bag Mullet?

Here’s a clue, same colour as your medicine.

Green.

“Sweat! Sweat! Swe– AAAARRRGGHH!” That’s a normal reaction to make when some guy wearing a mask and baggy green trousers comes out of a toilet stall ready to throw down.

My top was ripped to shreds, so there was no point even wearing it anymore. Still needed my restraints though, the brown material gripping to my arms.

30-year-old reached down for his pants, rather than pulling up his bottom half, he pulled out what looked like a gun. I’ve gotten used to countering those things, so counter I did. I grabbed and twisted his wrist a little.

Guy started screaming now, “Unholy spawn of fu-hu-hu-ck!”

I put a foot on the gun once it dropped, “Can you hear me through all that steam you cooked fuck?” One of the other guys in the bathroom looked over to me and said, “Sorry? What the hell are you doing lad?” I was a little bewildered at this guy’s logic.

Excuse me, it’s alright to swing your balls about like a dog, but not wearing a shirt?

The half-nude man started speaking to me, “Holy shit you can talk?! Are you sapient?!?”

“Of course I can talk! I’m not the one singing while- doing whatever this is!

A toilet goer raised his hands defensively, “W-Who are you talking to?” I jabbed a thumb, pretty damn frustrated with this situation, “This fucker!”

He just ran.

What is happening?

“They- They can’t see me. I’m wearing my ‘unaware’. Aow-aow! Please, just let me pull up my pants before you kill me.”

…

“Imagine. The world is a stage. Everyone you know? They’re the audience. When they see people on stage, they ‘know’ it isn’t real. There are the people on the stage, you, they’re the reason there is a stage, they make the show. They play into the audience’s disbelief; they make works of fantasy. Then there are people like me. I’m in the wings I know the stuff going into the show, I see it in much the same way you do, but I’m not an actor. I exist in the ‘second’ world, a middle space. Do you understand what I’m trying to say?”

“None of this explains why you were dancing in the nude.”

He was silent for a while. He suddenly, and violently, rubbed his nose. Before regaining composure,

“My unaware is an advanced piece of technology developed by one of the world’s greatest minds. A woman not many people will hear the name of. It is a cloaking device that taps into and amplifies the neuro physical ‘bumps’ within reality. The same ‘bump’ that stops people off the stage from believing your act, even as it happens in front of their eyes. This renders me imperceivable to any normal people. You can imagine that’s very important for my… line of work.”

I looked this man in the eyes, he was serious. I just saw him shaking what his mama gave him, and now he’s pulling a face that wouldn’t look out of place on easter island. He was wearing a cheap looking suit with a forked tie. I pretty much knew what his line of work was from the outfit but I was sure he’d keep dancing around the toilet question, so I played along.

“What is your line of work, Mr…?”

“Bob, and I am but one of a thousand specially trained agents. We work for an organisation dedicated to interfering with the more nefarious big players in this world. Human or- Inhuman in nature.” He probably thought he was cool right now. “My organisation has no official name we hold our funds under a number of dummy accounts, but we have no true moniker. We were formed under a number of nations back in 1959, so this has earned us a certain title in the paranormal community. They call us- The Internationals!”

He must have thought I was impressed by this little speech but I was just shocked that this was what Clover told me to keep away from. A couple of middle-aged men shaking their cocks?

Well, that would be something to stay away from, wouldn’t it.

“Answer me this Bob-” He interrupted, “You’re mispronouncing it.”

“What?”

“You are saying it like ‘Bob’. It’s coming from your gut, makes me sound like a fat guy. You have to say it from the head, put an ‘a’ sound into it.

“Bob?”

“Gotta put more ‘ahh’ into it.”

“Baahhb”

“No no no, that was like a damn farm animal! You need to put some power into it!”

I stuck the palms of my hands in front of my mask, “Whatever, just tell me what the hell you’re doing here!” Maybe I was underestimating this guy. Was he trying to fuck with me? Was he actually capable of faking idiocy to distract me from the important questions in the room? Clover had to have had some reason to tell me not to mess with this guy.

“You said you’ve never met anyone else with powers? Nothing supernatural?”

“Just me.” I lied to him. Just in case he has either in league with or against Clover, I feyned ignorance.

He started up again, “In a week’s time, a VIPU is taking a little business trip from Boston to this island. And due to his status as a US citizen (and a rather generous donation), he’s been offered the service of having us do a 100km radius ‘scout and clean’ of the area.” That put me on guard. That’ll teach me for following this dick to God knows where.

He laughed, but in a tone that felt very put on. “Don’t look so concerned, I’m not here to clean you out! I guess you’d fall under the ‘scout’ part. A ‘scout and clean’ protocol is usually only employed in an area that no one has a hard claim over. An area that could be ripe with sleepers.”

He said something new that concerned me, “Sleepers?”

He turned to look at me with that stone face, and for the first time it seemed warranted, “You’re lucky. Only one of ’em in a 100km radius of this area. It’s not that strong either. Relatively speaking. A sleeper is what we call a powered animal or ‘monster’ that hasn’t been active for a long time. Either due to a lack of prey, or a sustained injury. We believe it to be the former. Which puts us in a pretty bad position with you here.”

I was worried- “I’m its prey?” -but not for myself.

“The same ignorance phenomena that causes people to dismiss you? It forces most creatures to hone in on you. They usually have at least one sense that’s heightened in order to track Units down. Maybe it can see your body heat. Maybe it can hear your blood pumping. Hell, the whole reason it’s a 100km radius is because we’ve gotten creatures that can smell that far.

I had a question I knew he wouldn’t answer. “If this thing hones in on that phenomena, then why were you using that ‘unaware’? Wouldn’t that attract it as well?”

He looked me in the eyes. I think I cracked him.

“I haven’t asked you what the hell you were doing in there. Why you’re dressed like a stripper from Vegas.”

Perhaps I should mention that he was an American? Not that it’s entirely relevant, I sort of assumed you'd just assume that from the ‘men in black’ vibe.

Well, the vibe he was trying project over his less than stellar first impression

I asked the only question of importance, no more poking at the toilet thing.

“Where is it.”