I was fuming, sitting at my kitchen table watching the talking heads babble on about whatever interests people with nothing to do on a Saturday morning. They had some local hero from the city team on as a guest. I could tell he was new from his scrawny build and clear apprehension to the interview. Most heroes got over the stage fright pretty quickly. They had to, seeing as PR was most of their job.

But I wasn’t paying attention to the TV. My mind was more focused on my coworkers, the backstabbing bastards. Who did they think they were, running off to HR like that? Sure, I might have yelled at that intern. But the snot-nosed brat deserved it. I told him to have that report done before lunch, and what did I find? Him stuffing his maw in the break room and no report in my inbox.

So I gave him a bit of a dressing down. It was barely anything, my old man would’ve eviscerated him. But apparently raising my voice was too much for him, and my coworkers jumped on the hate-on-Steve bandwagon.

Fuck! Three years of busting my ass for the company, and what do I get as thanks? “One last chance” and a bunch of stupid anger management courses. Probably with some two-bit shrink asking me about feelings and junk.

It made me mad just thinking about it. Mad at my gutless boss, at my backstabbing coworkers, at that stupid intern. Then, as I was thinking about all the ungrateful bastards in my life, I saw red.

I felt something boiling up in me. There was a fire in my stomach, and my anger was its fuel. My hands dug into the table, the chair behind me toppling over as I stood up. Then with an ear-splitting bellow of “GODDAMMIT!”, I smashed my fists down onto the table.

It shattered on contact, sending splinters like shrapnel from a grenade around my kitchen. The now-bisected table collapsed, and I was knocked out of my anger from pure bewilderment.

What the hell? What just happened?

Noise from the TV trickled into my ears. The newbie hero was answering a question about when he got his powers. “There was a moment,” he said, “when I was overcome with emotion.” He stopped to take a sip of water giving the audience, and me, time to parse his statement. “Nothing else felt important, nothing else mattered but what I was feeling. And then…” He paused dramatically and stared past the camera, into the studio audience. When he next spoke, it was in a comedic tone, accompanied by a wave of the hand. “Poof. Powers.”

I ignored the chorus of laughs and looked down at my hands, both devoid of splinters despite the shattered table, and smiled. Turning my attention back to the interview, I took in the hero’s costume. It was garish, all bright colors and symmetrical lines running across the skintight bodysuit. No armor or pockets, and as visible as a flare in the dark.

I would have to make something more practical for my first night out as a superhero.

~

My stomach boiled as I bounded between apartment buildings, each leap leaving imprints on the rooftops. The loose clothes underneath my overcoat fluttered noisily, their thin fabrics letting the wild seep into my skin. I would usually have another layer to help with the cold. But today wasn’t a usual day. I had suited up the moment I got home, pushed by what happened today at work.

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How was I supposed to know my boss was serious about that whole “last chance” spiel? I thought she was just covering her ass. Plus it was two whole months ago. So when I saw that intern gossiping with Gladys instead of doing his job, I reprimanded him. Harshly. Getting called into the boss’s office again was expected. What I didn’t foresee was what she would say to me in that meeting.

“You’re fired.”

Cold wind buffeted me with every leap. I was almost thankful for it, the chill of midnight air countering my rising heat. It helped me think. Not let the rage take over. The route was familiar, one of the paths I took for patrols. That familiarity gave me a chance to reflect, letting my body move on autopilot as my mind raced.

Why was I upset about getting fired? I didn’t need that job. I didn’t need any job! Mundane employment was a waste of my talents. Now that I was free of those distractions, I could focus my energies on what mattered.

Two months of pounding the pavement had bought me some notoriety as Volcanic, but it sure hadn’t been smooth sailing. That first night was a mistake, heading out right after breaking that table. Rage-based strength is hard to control as it turns out. But I had just needed to punch something, a sentiment I shared tonight.

My musings were cut short by a shrill cry of “Help!” Pulling out of my next jump, I ran towards the cries. Peering down into the moonlit alley revealed a grim scene, a masked man waving a knife at the screaming woman.

Jackpot. I thought before stepping off the roof. As I plummeted, various thoughts flashed through my mind. My boss handing me a pink slip. The hushed chatter of former coworkers as I packed my cubicle, smiling at my departure. The heat in my stomach exploded, going from a mellow simmer to a roiling boil.

I slammed into the pavement like a meteor, a web of cracks expanding from the impact. Small pebbles and concrete shards scattered across the alley. Rising from my crouched position revealed the mugger stumbling back. The knife was still in his grip, although his swings had become more erratic. His voice cracked as he yelled in surprise. “Shit! Stay back!”

My smile burst into a wide grin as I advanced on him, making a show out of ignoring his weapon. The man retreated further until his back was pressed against the alley wall. Seeing his predicament, the mugger gulped and lunged at me. I sidestepped the stab and jammed my knee into his stomach, causing him to wretch and fall to the ground disarmed. I kicked his knife away and hoisted him up.

Pinning him against the wall with one hand, I started rummaging through my pockets for zip ties. As I did, he managed to choke out a sentence. “Fuck! You almost killed me!” Each word was labored, gasps breaking them up.

I didn’t respond. Perhaps I was a bit harsher on him than was strictly necessary, but who would care? It’s not like he could afford a lawyer.

He pushed on. “I’m gonna tell everyone ‘bout this!” He seemed to take my silence as a weakness. An expression of guilt. “I’ve got a cousin over at the Daily Bulletin, he’ll print the story! Frontpage, your ugly mug in cuffs!”

I raised him higher on the wall, pressing hard into his chest and cutting off his breathing. “You know what I don’t like?” I said, feeling my heat pour out as I spoke. “I don’t like leeches. Parasites who do nothing but drag others down!” Each word was like a piece of coal, feeding the furnace in my stomach. It erupted into a feeling I had experienced only once before on that very first night. “I don’t like people…” I lifted him off the wall as I spoke, pulling him closer to my face. “Who get.” I stepped forward and pushed him into the wall. Hard. “Me!” Another crash, this time leaving an indentation in the faux-brick. “FIRED!” As I slammed him again, I felt my sight go red. I pushed with all my might and the wall broke on his body.

The side of the building shook as he was encased in a pile of loosened bricks. I inhaled sharply at the sight and pulled back. Blood was trickling out onto the pavement, seeping into the cracks I had created with my landing. There was no movement, no screams of pain or twitching in the one exposed hand I could see.

I started to breathe heavily; in my nose and out my mouth. Turning around, I saw the woman I had saved, her back pressed up against the opposite side of the alley. Her face was set in a look of absolute fear, worse than how she looked at the mugger. I froze, the churning feeling in my stomach becoming irrelevant.

I didn’t even notice when the police handcuffed me. All I could think of was the woman’s face, and how similar it was to that intern’s two months ago.