I was born with powers. My powers were strong, strong enough to get into a hero substantiation initiative, a certification program that select collages across the country secretly had to train prospective heroes. The existence of HSI's is no secret, but who attends and where they are is.

My power is to create. Specifically, I can create diseases within my body that I can control and distribute. It's not necessarily a heroic ability, but my diseases don't have to make sense biologically. For example, I made a teacher of mine in grade school think that they were a chicken for a few hours. The disease didn't replicate well and it had very few defenses against a persons immune system, but it worked fast.

Theoretically it is possible for a disease to produce just about any effect, and there are many that create a fear of water, a compulsion to bite, or in the case of mass psychological illnesses, dancing. I have never been able to make a psychological illness, just different states of mind as a side effect.

I was twelve, a week after the chicken accident and was waiting in the principles office. I was the only one in my school who had developed powers, although they usually came alongside puberty, so they would come later if at all.

"This is rather unusual," said my principal as he walked in and took a seat in front of me, my mom behind him. "Usually if students develop powers we just have a week long training course to get it under control before they can return, but it seems like you knew exactly what you were doing. Can you tell me what you did to Ms. Windslow?"

"I made her sick," I told him simply.

"John, if she was sick then why did it stop? Did you stop it?" he asked. "I need more than that." My mom had tears in her eyes and she was covering her mouth. My dad was a hero. He could heal people, make them better. But he couldn't heal a head that had been dissolved by acid. At least, as long as it was his head that was dissolved. I must have been the opposite of the man she loved, against every hope I'm sure she had.

"She fought it off. It wasn't especially strong, most people wouldn't have had it for more than an hour, I'd guess she was already a little sick."

"So it was a kind of disease," he stated more than asked.

I nodded. "But it don't spread if I don't want it to."

The principal looked up at my mom at this point, noticing the tears for the first time. "I know that this can be difficult, especially with such an. . . unconventional power, but it-"

"That's not the problem! He has the powers, and I know he'll follow his dad's footsteps, and I know it'll kill him! I don't care that his power is the opposite of his dads, he has the power, and it's from his dad. I can't loose anyone else. . ." my mom trailed off. I never wanted to be a hero. Why would I want that? Mom had spent my life telling me how dangerous the hero world was and that dad was a fool for getting caught up in it.

"I'm sorry, but you aren't supposed to tell anyone about that. I wont say anything, but please, for your safety as well as your son, don't say any of that to anyone else," the principal said grimly. It's not uncommon for people to come after the families of heroes if their identity is found out, even after they die.

There was nothing to be done, and soon I was back in class with a solemn vow that I would never get a teacher sick. I kept that vow, as far as anyone could tell. If I really needed a break I would give my teacher a minor cold and deal with a substitute.

Little was done about my power, and I wasn't the only person to develop an ability in my little k-12 school, I was just the first. Most were simple, lighting candles with bursts of flame, turning on computers from across the room. Truly dangerous powers were more rare, luckily. The few powered gangs cause enough trouble, even though everyone that ends up with an ability tries to get into an HSI. Acceptance rates are low, but it's enough to stop problems when they arise, which is as much as anyone can reasonably hope for.

It wasn't until senior year of high school, right near the beginning of the year that I saw something dangerous on the TV. My dad's identity had been discovered, and there were plenty of groups who were very angry that my dad had busted various members of their organization. My dads identity being busted meant my family was in danger. The government couldn't do anything to help, my family had been out of government contact for too long to qualify for special protection.

I needed to protect my family. The only way to do that is to become a hero.

I sequestered myself to study and physical training, preparing my power and my body to survive the HSI. I had already been accepted into the HSI in Alaska, one of the best in the country, apparently, and where my dad went to school. My mom was heartbroken, but she understood the necessity of the situation.

And now I find myself at APU. I go to my dorm, a specific building for HSI students that stood indistinguishable from the rest. I set my room up, putting what odd possession's I kept with me in my room and setting up my workspace.

The next day I go to the elevator, scanning my ID and causing it to promptly drop far below the school campus. The first class is ethics of heroism, lead by professor Joab Holt, a man formerly known as Hungry Ghost. Then we had P.E., lead by Coach George Pendalton, formerly known as Brick Breaker.

Before anything else though, I need to go through placement. Consider it a combat test, where each student fights one on one until there is only one left, and how you place is dependent on how well you do on this test. I didn't have any weapons with me, and they wouldn't let me choose any, but they did give me a uniform to change into, black to hide bloodstains.

I enter a chamber, facing a girl my age, platinum blonde with bright green eyes. "State your names," say hidden speakers throughout the chamber.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"John Fletcher."

"Stacy Burns," says the girl, limbering up. I have no qualms getting the upper hand by playing dirty, so I start filling the cell with disease, keeping it non-lethal but hard to ignore.

"You may begin." The girl is already looking under the weather, her face turning green. She scrunches her brow and I feel a pressure around me as she tries to pick me up with her mind, but she quickly vomits on the ground, breaking her concentration.

"I concede," she says. In response I activate the kill switch in the diseases in the room. She already looks better when she leaves the cell, but it'll take a few minutes for her to recover fully. I had fought for this now, there was no turning back.

And so it went until I finally fell to a man named Kip, who used light to beat me to a bloody pulp. He said something about colors, but I couldn't make it out. I rank second in the class, behind Kip himself.

I go to these classes every day, keeping my powered identity secret and learning virology in my surface classes, barely getting enough sleep to work through the terrible workouts of Coach George. Kip and I become friends quickly. I learned that his power was to turn different colors of light into a solid substance with different properties depending on the color, even going as far as ultraviolet and infrared. We spar daily, each trying to defeat the other before I can build too much power. It was amazing, and I couldn't have asked for a better friend given that I hadn't had any growing up.

I decide to major in weapons the following year, with minors in close combat and ranged combat for the HSI, but on the surface I major in virology. Every day I make new viruses, cancelling certain powers and weakening people, even making highly specific triggers that turn some viruses deadly in a moment. Kip majored in ranged combat, with minors in focus and control.

One day when I walk in I see a man who isn't normally there for ethics of heroism. "Class, today you will design your hero suits. You practice what you play in and you need to get used to what you wear," says professor Holt. I eye kip, who shrugs and takes a seat next to me just like he always did. "This is Mr. Bayar, and he professionally make hero suits. What I want you to do is make a drawing and a description of what you want, and he will make you happy, weather you get what you asked for or not."

I start drawing a simple plague doctor with a pencil. I'm no artist, but it gets the job done. On the side I write out that I need lots of airflow and plenty of places to store weapons of various makes. I hand it in with everyone else and catch a glimpse of Kip's drawing. It was a simple set of armored robes topped off with a half mask covering his mouth and nose topped with odd glasses, different colors tinting the lenses. Kip had to be looking at a color to manifest it, the main drawback of his power that would supposedly be fixed with these glasses.

Not a week later we get our suits and try them on. The mask didn't limit my sight at all and the rest of the suit had plenty of airflow for my purposes, as well had more loops than I could count to hold weapons, which I promptly filled with various knives and guns and finally, my signature sickles. I turn to Kip, who was wearing stark white robes topped with glasses that had every color of the rainbow marbled onto the goggles which were secured on around his head. "Looking good," I tell him, and he responds in kind, just before an alarm blares.

"An attack on campus. A big one too. We can't stop them, and they cut us off from the outside, we can't depend on help. All he have is you," says professor Holt as he turns towards us. "Third years, almost ready to become heroes. Are you willing to defend your school if it may cost you your life?"

"Yes," says the class, no question in a single voice.

"Then you have work to do," he says as he turns transparent and disappears, going to defend the school alongside us. We all run to elevators, getting up to the surface ready to fight. We leave the building, a golden dome across the night sky and death raining down from various powereds, all wearing the mark of the Blind Serpents, a powered gang that my dad took down years before I was born. This is the most dangerous thing I had done up to this moment, and I didn't hesitate to run in.

Kip follows, different colors of light exploding into exitance around me and hiding my dark form in shadows, getting me close to enemies. I got one good hit on each one, barely able to break skin on some and outright killing others. Either way, the diseases spread amongst the gang members, weakening them all and causing some to fall over vomiting, taken out of the fight entirely.

"What is happening to you people?" shouts a voice over the entire battle. Everything seemed to freeze, from HSI students saving surface students to villains' fighting former heroes. A man was walking slowly through the battle, green light around his hands dripping acid which he periodically shot out at people who had to take precious time to dodge them.

The man that killed my father has joined the fray.

"He's mine," I tell Kip.

"I'll keep everyone else off you," he responds as we both run that direction. Manifested light spears around us, preventing anyone from getting too close, and I run around in the shadows, attacking from behind. He dodges my attack, turning to throw a wave of acid at my head which I deftly duck under, not a drop landing on my clothes. I swipe again, missing as he dodges back once more.

"My pa was a hero. It took him away from me, it made him hate me. I started fighting back when I got my powers, and it felt good. I hate heroes for what they took from me. My scars are his fault you know. He was so used to fighting people that once he got home he didn't stop. That's why I can't let the heroes keep breeding. It's a broken system, not enough rules, not enough control, and too much hate. I have to kill all of them, starting with their young," he says. I don't wait for him to finish, trying to get diseases to spread the distance between us in the open air, not getting much to stick. I need to get closer.

The man spewed acid at me, running forward and gathering more in a cupped hand. I stowed a sickle and backed up, drawing a gun and filling the chamber with disease across the bullets so that even a non-lethal blow would kill him eventually, not holding back at all. He throws the acid up in the air, causing it to rain down on my head, burning through my mask and melting parts of my skin, causing burns that would undoubtedly scar.

I scream and hold up the gun, trying to aim through my watering eyes at the man who had started walking towards me, thinking that would be enough to take me out of the fight, and we wasn't too far off. But one twitch of a finger put a hole between the mans eyes. He falls and I stumble over to Kip who holds me up with one hand while manifesting light with the other, dragging me over to our dorm where a powered nurse set up to take in people who were injured.

The battle finishes quickly after, apparently that man had taken over the gang and was the man pushing to destroy the school. There was damage to the campus, lots of damage, but it was prepared by the time my senior year of college started. It's miraculous that the powered that healed me left no scars, and my family was safe at this point, that being the biggest danger yet, but I found that I liked saving people.

Kip and I were one of the five that returned after the battle. Casualties were low, but the harshness of battle was truly shown and it broke plenty of people. This is my home now, my mom is safe, and I'm stronger than I ever have been.

And I am using that strength to stop the people that no one else can. I wasn't born a hero, I was thrown into the fire and reforged into a hero, just like any person can.