Ryker stood in front of a thick metal door at the back of the building. To the right of the door was a touchscreen keypad. The key may have seemed out of place in the back of the building, but Ryker learned it was standard practice at Circuit Cities nationwide. Ryker knew that having extra security measures for the buildings was common practice; he just wasn't sure about the touchscreen version of it. Furthermore, this store's security measures were even more extensive than others. Although, it wasn't because of anything nefarious. The business manager had some contacts who specialized in installing them, and he received permission from the corporate office.

At least, that was what the manager had told Ryker when he started working.

Ryker reached out to input the code into the touch screen but paused just before doing so. He thought he heard a faint electronic beep.

He first glanced to his left and right, then behind him. He always disliked the back of the store; he didn't really like the back of any store. They always felt like a different world to him, like a separate universe that was off in some subtle way.

Nothing was amiss in the back area. To his right was the edge of the building, and to his left were just the occasional bulky green garbage containers. One was close to the Circuit City, and the others were for the other businesses attached to the long strip mall. He could see all the way to the street that marked the edge of the buildings.

Behind him was just another wall that marked the boundary to the back alley. Ryker couldn't see anything on the other side of the wall. However, he had leaped over it before and knew it was another back alley of yet another strip mall.

Ryker turned back to the door and inputted the code into the touchscreen. The pad flashed green, and Ryker froze like a marble statue. A red light flashed from above the touchpad and scanned his face. He had learned that the system wouldn't get an accurate read on him if he didn't stay perfectly still. Then he would have to wait for a minute while the system reset, and he would have to do the process over.

The system was finicky at best, and he wondered how much the manager had paid for it. He also wondered why they didn't have the techs working in the store either put one in or at least upgrade it.

"I wasn't thinking that," Ryker said while waiting for the system to confirm his identity. "I did when I first started, but definitely not now. It's been like eight months."

…😒

Suddenly, Ryker remembered that he had asked that when he started working. The manager said it was too advanced for the average tech working there to install and upgrade. Additionally, it was part of a larger security network system and tampering with it would set off alarms and void the contract.

Ryker didn't inquire further after that, which was probably why he forgot. 😏

Ryker just shook his head and entered the building once he heard the lock click open. Now that he was in the building, he would try to ignore, at least verbally, his burgeoning schizophrenia disguised as a possible superpower.

Inside the building, Ryker's path split in two directions. To the right was a short hallway leading to the business's sales floor. At the end of the hallway was a black door with a small square window at eye height. To his left was a stairway leading to the employee break room and the manager's office.

The door slammed shut with a reverberating clunk, then a long buzz as the automatic lock moved into place. Ryker went to the left and started to ascend the stairs.

At the top of the stairs was another door. This one had no extra security, and Ryker opened it up and stepped through. Inside the breakroom were almost a dozen employees milling about the area, with most of them engrossed in whatever task they had chosen prior to clocking in for work. Most people were busy staring at their Bracers and pointedly ignoring each other. The break room had six circular desks with people not making eye contact occupying most of the surrounding chairs. Although, that was business as usual in a job that focused on tech.

Ryker ignored the others in turn and made his way to the row of small personal lockers at the side of the room. There were no assigned lockers, so he went up to the closest one he could find that was open, locker 202 by its number plate, and shoved his backpack inside. He reached into his bag and pulled out a red polo that he put on over his t-shirt. He closed the locker door and pushed his thumb up to the small panel on the side. The panel read his fingerprint and locked the door, securing his meager possessions.

Aside from working at the technology-focused store and a couple of people he actually enjoyed working with, the lockers were probably Ryker's favorite aspect of working there. At the thought, Ryker's face turned red. He started feeling violated because the voice knew all his inner secrets. He wanted to yell and rage at it for being so invasive, but he was surrounded by people and didn't want to look like a spaz.

Ryker took a moment. He continued staring at the locker for a few minutes and breathed deeply to get his emotions back under control. Finally, he felt better and turned to find a seat. He scanned the breakroom again.

The atmosphere was subdued in the area, but that was expected from a break room full of tech-obsessed introverts in the morning before work. A lively, boisterous atmosphere would be out of the norm. Across the room was a large window that could be used to look down on the sales floor. The manager often used it to spy on unproductive workers or patrons suspected of stealing.

Mirroring on the other side of the window made it impossible to know who or when someone was looking. Thankfully, the manager wasn't strict about spying on the workers not doing work. The threat of that came from the assistant manager, and Ryker knew that he wasn't on the schedule for the day.

Ryker got an inquisitive look on his face and headed over to the schedule. The bi-weekly schedule was fastened to a clipboard hanging on the wall next to the coffee-making area. To call it a coffee-making space was generous.

The area for workers to partake in the life-giving nectar of caffeine wasn't much to see. It was an old, rickety folding table pressed against the wall. Dents and divots from years of misuse pock-marked the top of the table. Each time boiling hot coffee was spilled on the table, the aging plastic would melt. Often, the fall of a glass or mug would accompany the spill, creating smaller indentations coated with coffee stains of every conceivable shade.

Ryker glanced at the offending coffee maker and wondered how it was still functional. For a company that deals in advanced technology, the coffee maker looked like it was produced in the era before supers. The smell coming from it was enticing, and he even considered getting a cup, but the level of coffee grime coating the maker and the area around it made him reconsider. The glass of the coffee pot had a brown sheen that couldn't be attributed to the swill swirling inside. It was as if years of consistent burning had turned it a shade of brown that even the most accomplished glass blower couldn't achieve.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Ryker shrugged and grabbed a small disposable cup anyway. He preferred energy drinks but those cost money. He poured a cup and doused it with an immense amount of powdered creamer. He had a feeling that without the creamer, its taste would be on the verge between burnt and ash, but he needed some caffeine.

The clipboard on the wall next to it dangled by a poorly placed tack through the clip's metal. It tottered left and right from the slight breeze of the air conditioning. Ryker looked closely, marking his place with his finger as he read but not actually touching it. If he did, and the clipboard fell, he would be responsible for fixing it. He didn't think putting back up would be so easy.

The names were arranged alphabetically, and Ryker found the assistant manager's name and followed it along until he found the current date. Sure enough, he wasn't on the schedule for the day. He hadn't actually known that information. So, there was some functionality to the voice he heard.

The voice had told him about Jacob's insecurities, let him know about the super flying even though he hadn't noticed, and now it knew his assistant manager wasn't going to be in when he didn't. Those instances didn't even account for the influx of knowledge or the enhanced physical abilities.

Ryker thought it must be a superpower, not a psychosis, but he still didn't know what kind of power it was. It seemed more than prophetic since it had information from the past and present. It was almost as if it was watching him. Ryker considered saying he was sick and leaving for the day to figure it out.

"Phhht! No!" A few people looked over at Ryker's outburst, but he did his best to ignore the stares. He spotted an open seat across the room, next to one of his coworkers that he liked. He made his way over and sat down.

The man momentarily looked away from his Bracer, and Ryker caught his eye.

"Yo, Ryker! What's up, my man?" Gary said. He slid his Bracer screen down so it was flush with his arms, and the screen went dark. He could turn it on again with a touch of his finger or by sliding it back up. Gary ignored it and focused on Ryker.

Gary leaned back in the chair a little, and Ryker could swear that he heard it groan from the pressure. Gary wasn't a small guy. He was slightly overweight but otherwise in decent shape. He was tall and broad with light brown skin, hair and eyes. He had a minor superpower, which helped him with his fitness, and Ryker was sure that without it, he wouldn't be able to call the man fit.

Ryker would never come close to insulting the man to his face. Not only was he polite, but he liked Gary and had a lot in common with him. Maybe more now, depending on his own superpower.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ryker wondered silently.

Gary was older than Ryker by a few years and had been working at Circuit City for a while. But he was an orphan who made it out of the system and was doing decently in the world. Ryker couldn't say that Gary was doing great just working in Circuit City, but he was getting by, and it seemed to work for him.

"Not much," Ryker replied to Gary's question. "Just getting ready for an awesome day of dealing with Karens and selling tech." Ryker took a sip of his coffee, made a disgusted face, and then set it down. He would not be touching that again.

"I hear that. It's a love-and-hate relationship. They love to bitch, and I hate them." Gary laughed slightly at his own joke. "It's been a couple days since we've had a shift together. How's life been in the orphanage?"

"Oh, you know how it is," Ryker replied.

He knew that Gary had a superpower, but not what it was. For some reason, he never talked about it much. Ryker always imagined Gary was a serious vigilante superhero in disguise, but he put that to rest with the voice's statement that it was a minor power. He wanted to learn more about him, though. If he couldn't help Ryker figure out his power, he could advise him on how to live with a minor one – if Ryker's power was a minor one.

Ryker didn't want to let him know he had a superpower, though, especially not in the crowded employee break room. But he knew Gary was a fanboy like him and enjoyed discussing supers.

"I was on the tram going to work and saw a super flying in the air," Ryker said. "I couldn't tell who it was, though. They were far away, and it was hard to make out the details." Ryker also gave him the other details he could make out while on the tram.

"Whoa, flying like that is pretty bold," Gary said. "Flying supers get a lot of envy and hate. They might not have been too powerful, but they probably have some decent backing."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Well," Gary said while tapping his chin, "you said that they had a trail of fire, which meant they were highly visible. With fire and flight, they didn't have a minor power like me. However, you didn't recognize them, and I know you're majorly into that shit." Gary held up his hands to me. He knew I was about to call him out on his hypocrisy. "Calm down. Yes, I'm into them, too. Based on your description, I can't think of anyone either who fits."

"Okay, so what makes you think they have some powerful backer?"

"Because it would be stupid to fly around like that without one," the woman sitting at the table with us chimed in. "Every super with the ability to attack them would try."

The woman was Katy Doris, or as most of us called her, Tall Katy. She was okay as coworkers went, but I didn't have much in common with her. I also had an issue with her views on supers, specifically evil ones. Whenever anyone brought them up, she would try to steer the conversation toward the NecronAmerican and the eradication of his ghoul army. She was obsessed with zombies and felt that the braindead husks should have been captured and treated like living humans.

"But wouldn't people have to know who the person was, or at least who their backer was?" I countered.

"Why risk it?" Katy said.

"Not only would random supers with the ability to attack them try, but there is also the issue of airspace," Gary mentioned. "The airspace around the city, hell, around everywhere, is tightly controlled. It's another reason why you don't see too many supers flying. You fly in the wrong area and bang." Gary made a gun with his hand and mimed shooting it.

"So, they probably have a low threat level, then. If they needed to worry about it." Ryker commented.

"Well, you never know, of course." Gary leaned back in his seat, placed his hands behind his head and looked up into the sky, thinking.

"They would have to at least be a Sector Level threat," Katy inputted before Gary could continue. *

The world spun, and the colors ran together for a split second before returning to normal. Ryker grabbed his head at the sharp spike of pain. The information influx hurt him worse than the other times. Ryker had already known the information presented, so he didn't understand why it hurt worse. Was the information clashing with his own? He even knew information that wasn't included, such as there were also two unofficial classifications, one below Building and another above Terrestrial.

"Are you okay?" Gary asked.

“Yep,” Ryker grunted. "That's been happening today, but it's no biggie. I was just hoping that it wouldn't happen anymore. That one hurt worse than the others."

That wasn't planned. It just kind of happened.

Ryker flinched a little from the internal comment. Gary noticed that, too, but decided to ignore it.

"I agree. It's probably Sector Level, at the least," Gary said. "But as I said, you never know because either they were powerful or have a powerful backer."

"It's probably just Sector Level. Another two stages and the person would be classified as high as the NecronAmerican. A simple flaming flyer couldn't dare hope to achieve that level."

Ryker rolled his eyes at Katy's statement, but he refrained from audibly groaning.

"I wonder if anyone else noticed the super and wrote about it?" Ryker said quickly to change the subject away from anything NecronAmerican related.

"Do you want me to look it up on my Bracer?" Gary asked.

"Sure!"

Gary had already flipped up his Bracer's screen and looked to be navigating to the search engine.

The manager's door suddenly burst open. A pudgy, shadowy beard-covered face poked his head out.

"The store's about to open. What the hell are all you doing up here? Get to work!" The door slammed shut right after.

Everyone did as the boss said, but they weren't worried. The manager liked to yell, but everyone knew it was usually in a joking manner.

A line formed at the door as everyone used the wall computer to clock into their shifts. Everyone was clocked in and out on the sales floor in just a few minutes to await the day's customers.

* There are numerous threat levels across the world; it all just depends on the area. In the United States, the government issued its own levels. The lowest level of threat – Building. An individual or group classified as a Building level threat could feasibly destroy a building or all living beings inside. The subsequent threats were: Sector, Metropolis, National, and Terrestrial. Each threat level included an increase in the area a superpowered individual could destroy or the lives they could extinguish. Although, the fluctuation of power types makes an accurate threat assessment difficult.