The entire right side of my face felt like someone had taken a hot iron to it. I crawled out of bed, aching in joints I didn't know I used. Daylight filtered in from a gap in the blinders, but the events of last night were like a black mist, clinging to the inner recesses of my mind.

I didn't find mom in the hallway or any of the shared places. Her umbrella was also missing from the rack. The bath had seen recent use, and I waved a hand across the mirror, leaning over the sink.

A tired face blinked back at me. An ugly bruise bubbled on its right side, drawn like a ridge and tender to the touch. There would be no hiding the fact I had been in a fight. I almost cringed just imagining what Eden would think. But then, mom was mom. For her sake, I would do it all over again.

I went about my business, keeping track of my internal clock. Mom had left breakfast. A steaming pot of rice sat on the cooker, along with a small bowl of heated stew. I had about an hour before I needed to leave for work; an hour and fifteen, if I cut things close.

I went looking for Nenye. She stood by the window in her little room, dressed in the same clothes as yesterday. The room was threadbare, consisting only of a bed and closet. I changed the sheets and walked toward her, noisily so she wouldn’t be startled. She didn't bother to turn.

“Hey, you,” I said. “Out you go. Time to get clean.”

Nenye didn't move.

“Oh, come on,” I said, grasping her arm.

She looked down at her hand then up at me.

“Gonna be another bad day for you, eh?” I said, half tugging her towards the bathroom. “Mom's on double shift so no shower for you today unless she is feeling up to it when she gets back.” I glanced back at her. “Think you can handle it yourself?”

Nenye looked down at her feet.

“Guess not.”

I placed a toothbrush in her hand and demonstrated the proper movements. She stalled for a few minutes then slowly imitated me.

It hurt to see her do this. Hurt to watch her oscillate between a veritable blank slate and little other than a child. The doctors had diagnosed her with regressive behavior as a result of traumatic brain injury. But they had been certain that the worst wouldn't outlast a few months. She would get better, they’d said. Behavioral sequelae could be disastrous, but they tended to improve over time.

She hadn't gotten better.

I ran a hand through her hair as the helplessness coalesced in me. I let go when I recalled the damage I could do. I’d always told myself that getting superpowers meant I could finally protect my mom and sister. And then, in a cruel twist of fate, I got those powers, only to need Mike's help to defend my mom. Granted, the powers were still Emergent at the time, but if I ever wanted to achieve my goal, things needed to change. Starting from today.

Nenye giggled and threw her brush into the sink.

“Don't do that!” I said, reaching for it.

I washed her face and led her to the dining table. Breakfast came next, and we ate together. Nenye picked absent-mindedly at her food. I took out my phone and thumbed through headlines on The Bastion, keeping one eye on her movements.

“You're staying home alone again,” I said, making a mental note of the articles I passed. A mysterious Super had visited some rural hospitals, and a band of kidnappers had been nabbed two states away. “I’ll be later than usual too. Don't worry. I'll leave water and cookies out on the table for you, in case you get hungry.”

She ate in silence, my words nothing but white noise to her.

“I am going to do something really bad today,” I continued before I could stop myself. “These guys . . . well, they hurt mom. Stole her phone and her necklace, the one she's had since we were kids. Mom wants to report to the police, but we all know that's going nowhere. I think I can do something.”

Nenye shot me a look.

“Hey, don't doubt me,” I said. “I am one of them now—a Super. Oh, sorry, I forgot to tell you. Anyway, it's something to do with touch. I broke the chair in my room, and when I was fighting those guys yesterday, they tried to choke me with an iron bar. I pushed it and whoosh. Straight to the sky!” I gestured with my hands. “I’d need to perform some experiments though before I do what I have to.”

“Water,” Nenye said. “Me, water.”

“It's right in front of you. Just suck on it.”

She raised the nursing bottle to her mouth.

I cleared my plate and went to my room to gather my stuff. If I was going after Gunner, I'd need to be prepared. A flat cap would help, for one. An old pair of fingerless gloves too. Discardable clothes—the gym pants and football jersey would do. Some munition . . . and at this, I floundered.

The empty spray cans mom kept in her room were the only equivalent of an arsenal we had in the house. I fetched them from the foot of her wardrobe, grabbing the rusted bunch of keys beside them as an afterthought.

Everything I collected went into my knapsack, the old canvas bulging with malice. I took a deep breath and got dressed for work. Then, locking the door behind me, I returned to the living room. Nenye waited hunched over the table.

“You finished your meal?” I asked, checking her plate. “Good one!”

I did the dishes and went around the house, making sure the safety caps were all secured on the sockets. For good measure, I also locked the faucets and disconnected the gas. The television sat behind iron bars, but Nenye had enough presence of mind most days to use it if she got too bored. She stood in the entryway, watching as I secured the house.

“Stay safe, okay?" I said, ruffling her hair.

She wrapped her arms around me.

Jimoh stood outside his gatehouse when I emerged into the street. Good. I'd been meaning to find him anyway. He perked up at the sight of me and sprinted over, a frown marring his face.

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

“Hey, big man,” he said. “What's this I heard from Mike about a fight yesterday?”

“Exactly as you heard. I came knocking but you didn't reply.”

“You did?” His shoulders fell. “Ah, sorry about o. I must have been inside the main house at the time, helping my boss. I hope you didn’t get hurt.”

“No. Not really.” I ignored his pointed look at my bruise. “We are taking the matter to the Police. Mike said one of the thugs might have been some guy named Gunner. Do you know him?”

“Gunner? Sure. Troublesome kid, that one. Got into a brush with him last year, and he promised to knife me the next time we crossed paths. Been waiting for the little rat since.” He flexed his muscles.

“Any idea where I could find him?”

“Ah. You want to brush him too? Be sure to take me.”

I raised my arms. “Perish the thought. I was just thinking the police might request his frequented locations, is all.”

Jimoh placed a hand beneath his chin. “Hmm. He lives over at Mercy Close. But he's often at the pool tables by the sports court these days. 'Doesn't have a job so he stays there for hours on end. Word on the street is that he is now with the Four-oh-Four.”

The name got me to pause. The Four-oh-Four was a criminal syndicate based in Newtown. The criminal syndicate—considering they were the only one people talked about.

They had risen to notoriety for their armed clashes with the police and were known to field superpowered enforcers. The majority of their foot soldiers, however, belonged to the street gangs affiliated with the syndicate. I wouldn't let them stop me from hunting Gunner. He had to pay.

Jimoh was still speaking. “If he is with the Four-oh-Four, I’m not sure there is anything the police can do. They might bring him in, sure, but after a small bribe, he would get off with, what's the phrase again . . . a slap on the wrist? He could then start coming for you.”

“We'll go to the police,” I said. “But thanks for the advice, Jims.”

“No problem.”

“You should consider a job as an information broker.”

“You mean I like to gossip a lot,” Jimoh said, laughing. “Point noted.”

“Haha. I'm serious.”

I glanced at my watch. The hands read eight-thirty; proof I was still king of losing track of time. Drat. A journey on foot from my place to the pizzeria took about thirty minutes.

Here's to hoping Daudu wasn't in this morning.

Daudu was in this morning. He stood at the entrance, arms crossed over his chest.

“Late again, Chetachi?” he said.

By only ten minutes, man. “Good morning, sir,” I replied.

“Every other person here comes in by eight,” Daudu said. “I let you resume an hour later because of the situation with your sister.” He made air quotes at the word. “Now, I wonder if I’d made the right choice. Do not test my generosity, boy.”

I forced the retort down my throat. “I apologize, sir.”

“Cleaning duty,” he said. “I want the toilets scrubbed down before you take your place at the counter.”

That was hardly hygienic. “Understood.”

“You are also going to repeat this for the whole of next week. This is me doing you a favor. A repeat of today will see a docking of your pay.”

“Yes, sir.”

He shouldered past me into a coupe, too small to fit all of his ego, and zoomed off, probably to go fuck himself.

I entered the pizzeria and ran into another frown for the second time that morning.

“What happened to your face?” Eden shrieked, startling our co-workers.

“Got punched.”

“You. Got. Punched.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh okay, that makes perfect sense.”

I went to the changing rooms to get the cleaning tools, Eden hot on my heels.

“Since when do you get punched?” she asked.

“Since yesterday.”

“Come on, dude. I’ve known you for a year and I've never heard you so much as raise your voice. Did you get mugged? Were you helping someone else?”

Damn her and her intuition. “Yeah, I was helping someone.”

Eden touched my cheek and my heart skipped a beat. “Let me handle the cleaning. I was supposed to knead the dough, but you are better at it than I am.”

“Nah, I can't possibly let—”

“Just leave it to me, fam.”

“No, seriously. Daudu will get mad at me if he heard I foisted my punishment off on you.”

Eden huffed. “Okay.” She glanced at me over her shoulder and sauntered to her duty post.

I didn't really care what Daudu thought. Cleaning duty was about as close to free time as I would get on the job. I left the utensils in the loo and snuck out the exit to the backyard that housed our generator and dumpster. It was time to practice.

My ability had come across as super-strength, but that wasn't a good explanation for what I could do. My cheek also throbbed something fierce, and it would suck to have super-strength without the necessary durability. No. It had to be something else.

I fished an empty water bottle from the dumpster and held it up to the brick wall. I dug deep into the poisonous fumes within me. Mom's near mugging came at the forefront, but so did Nenye's illness, and my failures at getting into the university.

My arms shuddered. I dug even deeper, and the shuddering reached up to my teeth. A trigger went off. Something flashed down my arms, entering the bottle in my hand . . .

Alright!

The water bottle blasted toward the fence, crumpling with a loud bang. I grabbed another one and tried again. Success! Then another. And another. Until twenty-some bottles lay ruined at my feet.

I hadn't been hallucinating. I was a Super. I could move stuff with my hands. Send them flying in any direction I chose.

I aimed a bottle at the gate. It went sailing into the sky. I spun and aimed another. Was I imparting them with velocity? Momentum? What was the proper term? Could I do it with something bigger?

I turned to the dumpster. It was a sturdy thing, with four wheels locked in place at the bottom. It took at least two people to move, three if full. And it was full. I rested a palm against it. There was no way I could move something this big, right?

The dumpster shot off and crashed into the gate. Two of my colleagues raced out the backdoor, eyes wide.

“What the hell! Chetachi?” one cried. “What happened here?”

“I don't even know,” I said, gasping. “I think one of the wheels buckled and it slid towards the gate.”

Eden peeked over the other guy's shoulder. “Is that the dumpster? How does something that big move on its own?”

“I don't know,” I said. “But let's return it before Daudu gets here. You know how he loves to blame us for everything.”

“Y-yeah,” Eden replied, brows creased.

We pushed the dumpster back into position, though I helped with my shoulders rather than my hands. I had to contact the SIRC. It was paramount I do. Unaffiliated Supers were the targets of all sorts, and I was only safe so long as I kept my powers hidden from everyone.

Considering how I’d almost ousted myself, that wasn't looking likely.

So, plan of action: Tell mom. Call the SIRC. See out the rest of my days living as a Government Super.

But first, I had to smash Gunner's face in.

Eden looked at me expectantly once the hour clocked four. “Did you forget?” she asked.

“What?”

“The library, dude. You promised we'd go together.”

“Did I? I said I'd think about it.”

Her left eyebrow arched. “And you haven't?”

I took the time to ring up a customer. The smell of fresh pizza wafted up my nostrils. I boxed the order and placed it on the counter. “I have. But it won't be today.”

Eden threw her hands into the air. “Oh my gosh. You know what? Just do you.”

“I will make it up to you,” I said, but she was already storming off towards the changing rooms. I signed out of my shift, announced my exit to my co-workers, and joined Eden. She was fastening her jacket, and I caught a glimpse of jotters and textbooks sitting in her open bag.

Dammit. And I was already feeling bad.

“Hey,” I said. “I'm sorry. Really. I didn't think you'd put much thought into this.”

“This is the female section.”

“Not really. The female section is behind that curtain.”

Eden growled and barreled past me out of the room. I changed slowly, replacing the orange uniform and black pants with the blue shirt and jeans I had come in. The smiley stuck on the back of my uniform seemed to mock me.

Eden hailed a cab as I joined the street. Her hair rode bunched up and her shorts highlighted delicate legs that ended in a pair of fancy sneakers. I could call out to her. I could forget all about my revenge, go to the library instead and become the kind of man my mom would have wanted. I had superpowers. That had to mean a life spent in some kind of comfort, yeah? There was no need to obsess over Gunner and his cronies. I had bigger fish to fry.

Then I saw mom, crying in the rain, cradling welts that ran across her neck.

I walked past Eden, toward the bus stop and the pedestrian bridge that led to the Old Integrated Layout. An engine revved behind me and the cab zoomed off in the opposite direction.

I didn't look back.