I sat, ignoring the dirty looks I was getting from both the other people in the waiting room, and the receptionist behind her desk. I wasn't sure why they all seemed annoyed by my presence. My panda onezie was clean, and while I was day drinking in a police station, I was at least using a cup, not drinking straight from the box of wine. Well, it was a take away coffee cup. That was probably it. I cleaned the cup before I used it for wine, but they didn't know that. Ok. That's a lie. I knew perfectly well why I was getting those looks, after all, it was intentional. As to why I was sitting here day drinking goon in a police station while wearing a onezie, there was actually a number of reasons behind it. Specifically, there was two. The first was my reason for being in the police station in the first place: I had an appointment. My case officer had called me yesterday and told me to come in. This was unfortunately not optional. The second reason was the one that explained my get up and beverage choice. I was messing with them.

You see, there's a big drawback to having super powers that most people don't think about, and that is the fact that most superpowers also come with some big drawbacks. Mine, for example, tended to make me really, really fucking bored most of the time. It wasn't that I didn't have hobbies, or wasn't able to find ways to entertain myself, I just simply had so much time to kill. My powers meant that my mind was always racing, processing as much information as it was capable of 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. I didn't sleep, I couldn't just zone out like regular people. Hell, you know that thing where time seems to slow down for you, and you can move, think and react like the world is standing still? Usually happens when you're either about to die, or just really in the zone when playing Jenga. I had that all the time. I effectively had five or six times the mental speed of most people, which meant my days felt that much longer. Combine that with the complete lack of sleep, I pretty much had twelve times the amount of free time that everyone else did. My current lack of employment didn't help either. Thus, I sought entertainment wherever possible, and messing with people was the most reliable source.

"Anna." A curt voice cut through my thoughts. I looked across at the source. An enormous man, probably 7', stood in the doorway to his office. This was Craig. He had a last name, which I knew, my memory was perfect after all, but I refused to use it. He was my case worker, a former super cop retired to desk work. He was a pain in the ass, a stickler for rules and also my only friend and ally.

Craig was the reason I was here, instead of some prison cell or hole in the ground. I had... let's say a troubled youth. My dad was a bonafide super villain. He used his powers, a mix of teleportation and disintegration beams to forge a vast criminal empire. Naturally, being his only child, I was spoiled and groomed to be his successor. While most kids were going to the park on the weekend, I was brawling with rival gangs, robbing banks and generally helping commit a whole slew of crimes. I was damn good at it too, at one I even managed to end up on an international most wanted list, or the leader boards, as we referred to them. Then Craig happened. It's a long story, but the TL:DR of it is that after a surge of conscience, some plea deals and a surprisingly small stint in Juvie, I was out.

The one caveat, well, there were many caveats, but this is the relevant one, was that I was required to meet with my case worker on a weekly basis. My job was to behave, his was to help me become a productive citizen. Which wasn't working, as you can probably guess.

I stood, throwing my now empty box of wine in the general direction of the bin, drained my cup, and tossed it after. They both missed. Craig sighed, and motioned for me to join him in his office. His office was, as always, immaculate. Neatly stacked papers, organised shelves, and the ever present vase of flowers. Tulips today, big guy had a soft spot for tulips. We both sat, him behind the desk, and me on the plush, and actually comfortable, chair in front of it. 

"So," he began, opening one of his many folders. "Last time we met you promised me you would be on your best behaviour."

"And I have been." I said, in my most innocent voice. "I haven't committed any crimes, not even little ones."

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

He simply raised his eyebrow, then looked down and began to read. "One count of public indecency, three of trespass, one of breaking and entering, four counts of littering, sixteen speeding tickets, two fines for riding without a helmet"

 He paused, and leaned over to look out the door.

"And at least one count of public intoxication." He added.

"That last one's bullshit." I protested, "I'm not drunk, and you know that, though the rest seems pretty accurate."

I leaned forward to try and get a look at his files. 

"Are you sure about the speeding fines though? That number seems a little low."

"The rest haven't come in yet." 

He said, snapping his folder closed before I could look at it properly.

"Jesus Anna. It's been a week and a half since we talked. Are you actively trying to commit as many misdemeanors as you possibly can? We can't look the other way forever."

"Alright fine." I admitted," I may have broken a few teeny laws, but I haven't hurt anyone have I?"

"I understand that you caused quite a bit of distress to the people who watched you get hit by that train."

"I meant physically hurt anyone. Emotionally doesn't count."

He sighed and slumped back in his chair. "You promised to behave Anna. You call that behaving."

"Well, yeah." I shrugged. "You know what it looks like when I misbehave. People die."

"People die when you say you're on your good behaviour too."

"True." I shrugged again. "But it was one guy, and he got better. You can't hold that against me."

"Actually, I can. In fact, that's my job."

"Maybe if you were any good at it, I wouldn't be so bored I need to jam forks into electrical sockets to see what happens." I said, throwing my arms out dramatically. "Nothing, by the way, in case you're curious."

"I wasn't, but thank you." He stood, and turned to rummage through the filing cabinet behind him. "I didn't call you here to tell you off."

I snorted. "Was that just a bonus?"

He continued, ignoring me. "You have a job offer."

"What sort of job?" I asked, getting just a little excited in spite of myself.

"The offer's from some millionaire over in Canberra. He's looking to form a HCL team."

He found the paper he was looking for and turned to sit back down, skimming the page in the process.

"HCL? Isn't that the blood sport?"

"No one gets badly injured, the rules are pretty tight about it, but yes, I am talking about the combat sport."

"And they want me." I said. "They do know who I am right?"

"They do, and apparently they don't care."

"Huh. That's new."

It was new. Normally employers saw me and ran for the hills. Hell, I've actually had the cops called on me a few times when people have recognised me. 

"This guy sounds like an idiot."

"He is supposed to be eccentric." Conceded Craig, once again leaning back in his chair. "From what I could tell, he doesn't really care about the sport. What he wants is to form a team of misfits and watch them come together and redeem themselves."

"Seriously?"

"Yep. He gave quite a speech."

"So who else would be on the team? Don't tell me he's collecting a team of ex cons."

"I'm not sure, but I don't know of anyone else who has been approached."

"What sort of money are we talking?"

"Not much. Room, equipment and living expenses are covered, but anything on top of that is up to you. Prize money, sponsorship, that sort of thing."

"So let me summarise." I said. "Some random crazy rich guy wants me to play a sport I don't care about with a team of random assholes for no money."

"Sounds about right." He agreed.

"Why the hell would I say yes?" I demanded.

"Why not?" He asked, with his trademark shrug, and a little smirk on his annoyingly handsome face.

Damn it. He had me, and the bastard knew it. I had two choices here, I could keep doing whatever boring bullshit I already was, or take a swing at this terrible suggestion. Neither was great, but one of them sounded a hell of a lot more interesting, so my decision was easy.

"I'm in"