Superpowers are typically uncommon, as a matter of fact, extremely rare. The percentage of people born with superpowers is infinitesimally small. Consider: out of over seven billion people, there have been zero.

Many people wish they had superpowers, but have you ever stopped to think about how some of the most common superpowers have major drawbacks for those who would wield them?

Take, for instance, superspeed. How nice it would be to run faster than sound, to get to all your appointments, and get your shopping done in a timely fashion without increasing your carbon footprint.

But what about your calorie intake? How do you accelerate a victim away from danger without them being ripped apart by G forces?

How do you have a normal conversation with someone speaking in slo-mo? How do you run away superfast, save a life, and return to the exact pose you had before so that no one in the room notices?

All things to consider if you wake up one day with superspeed. It's nice, but tripping is your kryptonite.

We briefly mentioned corporeal flight in the previous chapter; some of the other dangers include air traffic, speed management, storms, and navigation. It's easy to get lost when you're not used to seeing things from above.

With careful scrutiny, you will see that most superpowers have critical drawbacks.

Do you have super strength? I hope you didn't dream of being a sports star because there's no way they'd let you compete against normal athletes. Don't rip your dick off in a furious masturbation incident.

Does your whole body turn to flames at will and you can fly around? Do you get naked first, or are you constantly buying secondhand clothes to burn?

Can you breathe underwater? Eww, gross. Do you know what's in the water? Fukushima, dude, that's probably how you got gills in the first place.

I met Alice at a bank robbery, though she goes by ShatterShout. She can scream so loud your brain leaks out through your nose. She promised not to reveal my secret identity if I agreed to go to a concert and hear her sing.

After the show, she told me the key was control. She uses her voice as both a weapon and when she's singing, a weapon. I've never experienced such physical discomfort listening to music that wasn't pop-country. No wonder she has to threaten people to come to her shows.

Eagle-Eye was there, he's one of those bow-and-arrow superheroes. Like, if your superpower is being good at darts are you really gonna risk your life? You don't need to be a supervillain to get a gun.

There are probably five such superheroes who are just, like, really good at a sport. Then there's Supersame, who's basically like Captain Planet but for capitalism. So kind of the opposite of Captain Planet.

WomanKind was cursed with a laundry list of powers, but if you ask me, the worst was immortality. To lose all your loved ones, to know you always will. I wonder if you would go centuries without making a friend just because you're tired of burying them.

Some powers only activate under specific conditions, like Hank. You wouldn't like him when he's Hankry. The Lone Wolf can only fight crime on a full moon. The Lone Ranger can dodge bullets, but only at high noon.

During their downtimes, they typically hide from their enemies, many of whom are just regular criminals. Why? Because they know their limitations.

Knowing Your Limitations

Knowing your limitations is something we all must do, with or without superpowers. You have to know you can't lift a car. If you have superstrength, you probably can, but does that mean you could catch a car falling down on you from above? What about a semi-truck?

The thing is, for all of us, with or without superpowers, we don't know what our limitations are until we try something we're not sure we can accomplish. You just say, "Maybe I can," then you give it your best shot and suddenly the experience is behind you and you've bested the challenge. Or you didn't and you found one of your limitations.

Maybe I can catch this loaded school bus and set it down gently without being crushed. Maybe I am fast enough to run across water and save this family. Maybe I can fly all the way to the troposphere and keep it together while I battle aliens.

You never know until you try, but remember to crawl before you walk. Walk before you run. Run before you fly. And if you can, use the buddy system, which we'll touch on in Chapter 6: Making the Most of Your Sidekick.

The day after the concert, the ringing in my ears wouldn't go away. I went for a walk to see if that would help, but it was quickly turning into a headache.

Everywhere I went, I saw normal people doing normal shit. People in suits carrying briefcases talking on phones on their way to places. I didn't know people still did that shit.

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The internet is wall-to-wall Bobmast theories, the podcast only offers that he is in hiding and undergoing gene therapy after the radioactive incident by the dock.

Gene therapy, now there's a good way to get superpowers.

On my days off, I like to get out of the flat and see the city. I walk down to the park, smile, nod, and wave at people, maybe get some street meats.

Nobody knows my face. Anonymity feels good. There's a guy selling hotdogs to a line of people waiting. The sun is warm and bright but also soft and the moment feels perfect.

So there I was, basking in all the majesty of a perfect summer day, standing next to a hotdog cart, hands and mouth full, when I hear a commotion down the street. A man in a mask has broken through a throng of people. He's carrying a purse.

I hear a woman scream and suddenly he's next to me, his wild eyes lock onto mine. I notice his gun, but I'm already tripping him.

He careens hard into the hotdog cart. I hear him grunt on impact, then scream when gallons of boiling hotdog water soak into his clothes. One of those days I suppose.

Luckily, no one else was hurt. The vendor and his line of customers all saw the guy coming and stepped away from the cart to give him a wide berth. I was the only one standing there, chewing a meat tube and smiling at the happy clouds like a simpleton.

By this time, we've all noticed his gun clatter across the sidewalk into the grass. Both the thief and the hotdog vendor glance at it and I could see the thief wondering if he could get to it in time, but alas, the vendor stood between him and the gun.

The vendor was, shall we say, vexed about his cart but nobody blamed me; I'm the simpleton, remember? I'm still just watching all this holding hotdogs.

The hotdog vendor exploded into movement after a tense moment. He rushed toward the thief who rushed toward his gun. The guttural shouting in another language added a touch of the unknowable as he visited upon that man all the wrath and fury of his many and varied gods.

Suddenly the woman is there, yanking away her purse, lamenting the fact it got the hotdog water. She tries to thank me but I've still got a mouthful of hotdog and one in each hand so I won't be conversational for a little while longer.

The point of this story? Limitations. Could I have used superhuman reflexes to simply snatch the purse away as the man ran by? Perhaps. Could I have used frost breath to freeze him in place? Maybe. Could I have delivered a lung-crushing sidekick at just the right moment to incapacitate him and knock him out of the way of the hotdog cart? Again, possible.

But not while holding hotdogs, alright? Not with my mouth full. Know your limitations.

#

Most superpowers have critical drawbacks, in fact, many are curses that have some small unforeseen benefit. A lot of heroes are actively trying to get rid of their powers and I understand them. The desire to live a peaceful, normal life is universal.

Hank turns into a vicious raging monster if he gets hungry, so he's actively snacking himself to death. He's digging his own grave with a fork and spoon. You think he wouldn't love to put the B&J aside and lose a few pounds?

There's Victor, who's like the 1/32 vampire, so too human to live among vampires and way too creepy for humans. He leads a pretty normal goth life, out all night having fun making fun of the way people have fun. He prefers the nightlife, but he won't burst into flames in the sunlight.

The catch is, he doesn't fall asleep, he literally dies. He has to be careful not to get drunk and fall asleep on the bus. They have his picture up in the morgue so if his carcass comes in, they can just wake him up so he doesn't take up space.

Often, the curse comes in the form of an ancient talisman which we'll go over more in the next chapter. Many of these will grant the wearer with phenomenal abilities at a terrible cost. Many powers don't manifest until puberty, or in Great Gramma's case, menopause.

X-ray vision is a common power with a critical drawback: a special presentation from HR in the conference room. I don't even have x-ray vision, but Greg had to go and file a report. What a superwaste of time, even if it was just a joke.

And who better to lead the meeting than Great Gramma herself? Nobody dare step out of line; nobody fucked with Great Gramma.

We were all sitting up straight, no phones out, not even chewing gum. She walked among us with her little old lady cane, but we all knew what she could do to us. Her voice was soft and quiet like any other little old lady, but this was Great Gramma.

She put Urzog the Defiler in a time-out.

"Now, I understand the...urge," she said to us. Her supercostume is orthopedic shoes and flower print full-length dresses. "Believe it or not, I was young once."

Greg snickered and tried to play it off but couldn't decide between a cough or a sneeze. The sound he made was entirely unnatural and brought the room's attention on him. The fool.

"Don't play games with your life, dearie," she said to him quietly and touched his shoulder.

Christ, he's lucky to be alive.

His face was pale and sweaty as he glanced around the room, apparently unharmed.

"I know what it's like to be...attracted to someone, to want to take them to the sock-hop. But there is a time and place and work isn't it."

She peered around her glasses as though she needed them to see the fear in our eyes. Nobody dared move an inch.

"In my line of work, I see muscular young men all the time who don't feel like they can wear a shirt. I even made them all Christmas sweaters one year and do you think any of them appreciate it, or visit me or even call?

"Supersam is the only one I've ever seen wearing the sweater I made him. I think the others put them on mannequins to test weaponry. The disrespect...when I was younger, handsome young men would respectfully whistle at you from a safe distance if they thought you were peachy keen. Now what?

"You've got your Tinders and Grindrs. Your Bumbles and OKCupids, your match dot coms, your e-harmonies, your adult friend finders and Ashleys Madison. You got your Jswipes and Christians Mingle, your Badoos and gleedens," she's parroting words with no meaning to her while she counts off on her fingers. We could be here all day.

I glance at Greg who is as still as a statue but his face is turning red as he tries harder and harder to suppress his laughter. She must be listing some of his favorite sites.

Great Gramma resumes her train of thought with this gem, "But that doesn't give you insipid fuck-balloons free reign to go shaking your willies in front of everybody! And do you know what Supersam said to that?"

She peered at us, like a hawk might worms. We had no answer for her. She was in the room with us, but we had no idea where she was.

"He said nothing because he knew I would twist his ear off if he did! So why must I come all the way down here to talk to you harmless twat-waffles? You think Granny's keeping the oven warm for these cookies?!

"If I have to come back down here because you nasty little perverts can't behave..."

She seemed at a loss for what to say, but quickly recovered.

"Any more misbehavior out of you and I'll hang you from the ceiling by your dick-tips!"