Sitting in a bar of his own design at the heart of a volcanic vent, Hamish stared blearily down at the marble counter through his hands. He felt lost. The world was burning all around him on the earth’s surface and here he was: hiding away, and drinking. Trying to forget what had happened.

Whatever force had swept across the planet granting powers to all living things had cost him everything. Well, that wasn’t quite right. They had. By the time Hamish had woken up, his friends and family - even his wife Laurie and his beatiful girls Isla and Bonnie – had all been taken from him. Kept from him. Used as leverage so that Hamish would do their bidding.

“Can’t have ‘em distractin’ you.” Fergus had said when Hamish had demanded to see them, that greasy, smug smile plastered on the crime lord’s face. “You’ll see ‘em in good time. Until then, you work for us.”

“‘In good time’, my hefty arse.” Hamish cursed, flicking his glass over the counter where it smashed into pieces with the rest. He rested his head on the counter as the encroaching darkness began to blessedly take hold once more.

“I’m so sorry, Laurie. I should ‘ave known.” Hamish whispered, a tear falling down into his beard as he apologized yet again to his dead wife.

The next morning, Hamish woke up and eliminated his hangover by picking himself up and slamming down another double-shot of scotch. Then, he slapped the bar and walked over to his chair. Settling down into it by collapsing face-first into the cushions, Hamish didn’t bother righting himself. Instead, he activated his latest superpower. The only one that kept him sane down here in this super-heated volcano box.

Superpower:

Remote Viewing (Like Powers): Grants the capability to remotely view the surroundings of any individual possessing a power that the user does. Viewing range and duration is limited by the amount of energy invested. Simultaneous viewings are possible at an increased cost.

Hamish’s power failed twice initially. That result was depressing, as it meant two of those who shared his power had died while he slept. Though Hamish hadn’t known them in person, he still mourned their loss.

Takahashi Ito. Alina Petrov. Hamish recalled, not willing to allow the stupor he was in to forget them. He raised one hand and a metaphorical glass in their honor. You will be remembered lad. Lass.

On his third attempt, Hamish’s power worked. It showed him Ryan Reynolds, the young editor who Hamish had last seen going to fight the corrupt mayor of his hometown. The parallels to Hamish’s own situation had been too much at the time, and with all the odds stacked against the lad Hamish hadn’t wanted to watch the young man die. He had shut off his power right as Ryan went to war.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

Only, to Hamish’s surprise, the young lad hadn’t died. He hadn’t even been captured. Hamish’s eyebrows rose nearly to his hairline, and a feeling of joy for his unknown compatriot rose as he watched Ryan gather his closest friends and allies. It was a poignant moment, and Hamish didn’t have all the details, but he could tell it was an emotional one. The wolf-man was carrying what looked like a lost love, and they were at a… power plant?

What Hamish saw next shook the still-drunk editor to his core. With a single touch and a burst of power, Ryan brought the dead woman back to life! It was like a scene out of one of those American movies. One second the poor lass was dead, little more than a charred corpse, and the next – poof – she was alive and well. Naked as a jaybird in springtime, but alive.

“How?” Hamish breathed out in disbelief. He had seen the costs to bring back the dead. They were completely unreasonable. Hamish had tried to do it anyway, and he had failed. So how had this young man done it?

“No…” The how wasn’t important, Hamish realized as he pushed himself shakily up from his chair. What was important was that it could be done. If Ryan could bring life back to the lost…

Then I can do it, too.

Hamish shoved off the chair and stumbled over to the nearby wall as he continued to watch the other editor work the same miracle over and over. He half-walked, half-crawled over to the section that glowed bright red with an overpowering, painfully intense heat fueled by the lava surrounding the outsides of his makeshift bar.

With a grimace, Hamish shoved the heatsink next to the superheated stone away and pressed his left palm directly onto it. He absorbed the energy in it to refuel his stores as he mentally forced away the pain of the process. Instead, Hamish activated his power and cleared away his negative status effects. He wiped away the depression and drunkenness, returning a sharp focus to his vision that had been all but lost to him.

The cooled stone Hamish used as a source of geothermal fuel glowed red again within minutes and he pressed his palm to it once more. Plans already beginning to form in his mind. Plans to head back to the surface he had abandoned. To bring his wife and children back.

To fix everything that he had let go so horribly wrong.

Hamish closed his eyes, feeling long-dead hope rekindle within his very soul. He activated his power again with his right hand on the wall, fueling the mechanism that would bring his hideout above ground once more. Then he walked over to the bar and poured himself a real glass this time. The last one he would allow himself until she was back in her arms.

“Slainte Mhath!” Hamish said in honor of the young man who couldn’t hear him from half a globe away as he downed the spirit. He shivered, and glanced at the display his remote viewing power allowed him one last time. The old Scotsman nodded in Ryan’s direction and wished his fellow editor well.

“Lang may yer lum reek.”

Hamish closed his power, looked around the clarty mess of a bar his sorry self had let go to rot over the last week, and felt suddenly ashamed… and relieved that Laurie and the girls had never seen him like this. His late wife would have given him a skelping, and his sorry arse would have deserved it. Hamish clapped his hands, rubbed them together, and vowed his little spitfire would be back by his side soon.

Then, he got to work.