When I reached the source of the alarm, I saw four men with ski masks and submachine guns fleeing from a bank carrying heavy duffel bags laden with money. Well, the building they fled from was too small to be a bank, and I didn’t actually know what was inside of the duffel bags. The sign above the door read, “New Kinsington First Credit Union.” It was a kind of bank, I guess.

I shook my head, clearing my mind of those unnecessary details. They were bank robbers, and I had superpowers. It was a simple set up to an act of heroism, and I shouldn’t get bogged down in the details.

“Stop!” I shouted at the bank robbers.

“Oh shit!” One of them swore when he heard me. To my shock, all four of them stopped when they heard my command. They all pointed their guns in my direction, and I put up an interposing hand. Hopefully, that barrier would be enough to stop bullets.

“Who are you?” a bank robber asked, and there was noticeable fear in his voice.

Why did it matter who I was? They seemed to be waiting for my answer before deciding whether they would run or fight.

“Uh…” I paused, trying to buy myself some time. Something told me that it would be weird for me to just tell them my name. I was supposed to be a superhero, and I would need a superhero name. “I’m a new superhero in this city.” I said the first name that came to my mind, “You can call me Macro-Kinetic.”

“Good, he’s just an idiot,” one of the robbers said, and my ears were filled with the harsh staccato of gunfire. Bullets struck the invisible barrier in front of me and crumpled into small brass disks. The sensation of barely-perceptible raindrops on my hand gently filtered into my mind. It felt like the barrier was an extension of my body, and the supersonic bullets barely registered on that extrasensory organ.

“Rude,” I said, though my voice couldn’t be heard over the gunfire.

I began to wonder how I would deal with the gunmen. I couldn’t just grab them. They would pop like grapes. To be honest, I wasn’t even confident that I could grab the guns from their hands without tearing their arms off. I was beginning to develop a sense for the strength of my telekinesis, and it really wasn’t safe for human contact.

By the time more than forty bullets bounced harmlessly against my telekinetic barrier, I had made a decision. I reached out with my mind and scooped up some of the ground on the other side of the gunmen.

A deep trough was dug into the ground, completely destroying several lanes of road. Like a child playing with sand, I created a twenty-foot wall to block the criminals from retreating any further using the dug-up dirt and asphalt. I was grateful for the motorcycle helmet, since the criminals couldn’t see the grimace on my face.

“Shit! He’s a Level 3! Run!”

The robbers screamed in fear and began to scatter in different directions. At that point, I figured that I was in for a penny and in for a pound, so I tore two more holes in the ground and built two more walls. This sudden unplanned excavation completely blocked off the six-lane road we were standing near, but I figured I could just come back and fix it later. As far as I was concerned, controlling the dangerous gunmen and returning the stolen money was more important than some minor infrastructure damage.

I took a few slow steps toward the gunmen. If they wanted to run, they would have to come closer to me, and that didn’t seem very appealing to them. The criminals had retreated as far from me as they could, and they cowered in fear as I approached.

“Guns and money down, please,” I commanded. “Otherwise, I’ll have to take them by force.” I wiggled my gloved hands threateningly, and the four men willingly disarmed.

“Good,” I said with a smile. “I see that we haven’t forgotten our manners.”

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“What now?” asked one of the criminals. “What are you going to do to us?”

I sat down on a concrete divider that had previously blocked the sidewalk from the road and said, “Now we’re going to wait for the cops to get here.”

“Why? Can’t you do it?”

“Like I said, I just got here. I’m not integrated into whatever system this city uses for law enforcement. I guess you can call this a citizen’s arrest.”

One of the gunmen - the leader by my estimation - regained some of his courage and pointed a finger at me. In an accusatory tone, he said, “Haven’t you ever heard of ‘escalation of force?’ Level 3s aren’t supposed to stop normal crimes. Aren’t you guys busy with other shit!?”

“Well, I’m not.”

“Yeah,” one of the other men - a natural born minion - agreed. “We’re totally gonna get - uh - a mistrial, right? They can’t prosecute us if they sent the wrong kind of cop, right?”

I didn’t know anything about this world’s legal system, but I could tell he was lying. I had known enough criminals to know that all of them - no matter how guilty - were convinced of their own innocence. Christ, I hated them all.

“Uh huh,” I said in a noncommittal tone. I reached out to a nearby manhole cover and lifted it into the air. Mentally, I gripped the slab of metal between my thumb and forefinger while I used my other hand to spin it like a fidget spinner. It took a few tries, but I was able to get the pressure right after a few seconds. Within moments, the floating manhole cover was spinning through the air.

“Hey, uh, that’s not necessary,” the leader said in a tone that was much more respectful than it had been a moment before.

“What’s not necessary?” I asked, playing dumb as the manhole cover picked up speed. It spun like a buzz saw, and I figured it must have been spinning at more than a thousand rpm.

“Our threat ratings are blue, you know?” the leader asked, his breath quickened by fear.

“What does that mean?”

“You really don’t know?”

“Humor me.”

“That means you’re not allowed to kill us unless we’re threatening your life. We-we’re not threatening anybody.”

“Not right now.”

Look at how much power you hold. You could kill anyone in the world with that projectile.

Great. The voice was back. I did as the voice suggested, and I looked over at the spinning manhole cover. It was a blur of motion, buzzing with lethal intent. With just a flick of the wrist, I could send the thing careening down the road. If the manhole cover touched the ground, I knew it would fly off into space at more than a thousand miles per hour.

Do it. Throw the projectile. Kill those sinners. Their destroyed organs and charnel remains would be quite entertaining to witness.

Obviously, I wasn’t going to do that. Yet, I couldn’t keep the image of the manhole cover destroying one of the criminal’s bodies out of my mind. The voice was right. It would be quite satisfying, like watching a hydraulic press destroy a piece of ripe fruit.

Almost absent-mindedly, I lightly increased the pressure holding the spinning manhole cover in place, and it spun to a stop after a few seconds. The sound of police sirens grew louder in the background ambience, and I dropped the smoking manhole cover to the ground.

“Here they come,” I said.

Several of the robbers let out relieved sighs as two police officers - a man and a woman - exited their police car and approached the scene. The male police officer looked up at the giant walls of asphalt and dirt before asking, “What the Hell happened here?”

Allowing some pride to enter my voice, I answered. “These men tried to rob a bank, and I stopped them.”

“It was a credit union,” the leader said.

“Shut up,” I said, and the leader stepped back in fear.

“You’re all under arrest,” the male police officer called out as he examined the scene.

“Excellent,” I said with a smile. “I’m willing to testify as long as I can do it under an alias. I need to keep my secret identity under wraps. Make sure to take my name down as Macro-Kinetic.”

“Did you do this?” The cop pointed to the destroyed six-lane road.

Slowly, I turned around and surveyed the destruction I had wrought. I must have cut a sewer line, because the deep trenches I had dug into the ground were starting to fill with tepid water. Traffic for as far as I could see had slowed to a standstill, and a crowd of nearly a hundred people had gathered around to watch what had happened.

“Yeah,” I sighed.