Listen, I'm not proud of how this all started. Some would argue that I dug my own grave with the bullshit grandstanding, but in my defense, having a cranky, misanthropic, entitled old wizard in my face was pretty unpleasant. I was standing there, along with Steve, Jess, Alice, and John, and we were all in front of a whole lot of spectators, one of them a freaking king... though only a couple of them really mattered to the plot. And by plot... I don't think I mean what you think I mean.

Said cranky wizard was exactly the sort of goateed grand vizier type that Disney among others had done an excellent job of convincing me through my childhood was secretly attempting a coup while also hiding a puppy-kicking habit and lusting after "the princess", though I hadn't yet seen a princess. As it turns out, she was on a high balcony overlooking things from behind a curtain, but I wouldn't know that she even existed for many years, and that's all you really need to know about how relevant she was to me. The vizier, though, was trying to convince all of us that he was the font of wisdom for the half-desert kingdom we now found ourselves in, and people would either drink from said font of wisdom or die of thirst.

He was making that point most directly at me, though that was because it was the hardest to sell it to me. Because while Alice--like me--was gifted immunity to manipulation, she was also the sort to go along with everyone else's decision, where I definitely wasn't.

The five of us were lined up a row, me with my jade bracers, Steve with his golden broadsword, Jess with her diamond-topped staff, Alice with her brilliantly shining crystal orb, and John with his bow made from pure darkness. So far, everyone else had more or less agreed with everything that had been presented to them, because the deal was, largely, pretty good. We would get training and support, and they would get... well, us, essentially. Our services in whatever task they set us, as long as it aligned with our... blessings.

I could read the writing on the wall in terms of what I'd be doing, though, and I wanted no part of that.

"Do not think for a minutes," the vizier sneered at me, "that you can do this without me. You have no idea what you are capable of."

I studied him, my mind whirling. "I think it's you," I answered him, "that doesn't know what I'm capable of." A self-absorbed bluff, maybe, but the artifact had already cleared my head quite a bit, letting me know exactly what my powers were--no, what its powers were. I was only wielding it; I can be honest about that. If the blessing was removed from me, I'd be worthless, or nearly worthless. Certainly, I could be no Hero.

"Please," he returned with disdain, the single word sounding like he meant it to end the conversation. "If you're so grand, by all means, impress me. Surprise me. Show me anything that you can do that I haven't already thought up."

I could clearly sense the others in line exchanging looks. They hadn't wanted to be confrontational; and if this guy hadn't been a jackass, getting up in my face, I wouldn't have, either. But I drew on the power of the bracers, their fields instantly searching the surroundings for material as I considered exactly what I could show this stupid nitwit that would impress him. Gunpowder? If he was a wizard, that would only seem like a trick. Electricity, somehow? Light? Magnetism? All things that would most likely have easy magical alternatives.

A terrible idea came to me, and I acted on instinct, drawing heavy metals from the earth far below us and using my power to Fabricate a small, dense little ball wrapped in lead. Just the mere presence of the stuff in the room irritated and frightened me, and on instinct, I redid the Fabrication, diffusing it temporarily, so it would not immediately go off, and doubling the lead shielding.

That heavy little ball that appeared in his hand was excessively unimpressive to look at, and I started to realize just how dumb the thought I was having was. In the end, the only reason I went through with it was that he didn't even want an answer. In his mind, he could do no wrong and I could do no right. I could only imagine that in his head, I was some completely daft prick, and as such, he completely underestimated me, and the danger he was in.

"What's this? Trash? A ball of lead? Pathetic." He tried to throw the ball at me--doing better than I would have thought, because it was a very heavy little ball--but I caught it with my mind, a psychic shield preventing it from coming anywhere close. "You really are--"

I grabbed the ball of lead with my mind, empowered by the bracers, and held it steadily just in front of his face so that he could watch, and with another use of Fabricate, rearranged the lead and uranium, creating a very small ball of extremely dense radioactive metal, and a lead shield--a lead shield was very thick on most sides, but with no shielding at all in one particular direction. And then all in a burst, I telekinetically squeezed the ball, slightly increasing the density and accelerating the already rampant, but invisible reaction. It was nowhere near enough to become critical--which was good, because I don't think the bracers could have stopped even a tiny nuclear explosion--but more than enough to to get right up to that point, creating intense heat, light, and ...other undesirable things.

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It was testament to how magic worked in this world that I could feel an extremely aggressive pulse of something bad radiating straight through the Grand Vizier's head. It didn't leave a hole or even a burn mark, but it did something far more important. Well, two things. First, it... well, I assumed at the time anyway that it gave him a lethal dose of a couple different types of radiation to the brain, and I think it was at least clear that such was my intent.

But more importantly, he sensed that weird radiation magic that I had created out of a ball of metal, and he realized he had no idea what I had just done.

I could tell that the two other magic types in "our" group had also gotten an impression of bad juice being shot in his face, and I heard and felt them both take a step back. The Vizier, though, just stared, confused, and after a moment, reached up to take the bead, still hanging in the air.

That was, of course, a terrible idea; aside from being radioactive, it was also now insanely hot from the reaction, and I used Fabricate a last time to rearrange the materials, plus air and some other junk, into an inert blob of nothing buried far under the palace. I wasn't sure where, exactly, but I decided that it would be difficult if not impossible to find, if anyone even knew to try.

To try to distract from exactly what I did, I opened my big stupid mouth again and said something dumb. "Don't think that you're the greatest in the world. Even if you're a genius, you're not the only one, and frankly, I don't want to be your tool or plaything." As I realized what I was saying, I turned to look past him, at the man situated on the throne, the would-be king.

That's not fair, really; for now, he was the actual, titular king of the kingdom, whether or not he deserved his father's title, and who was I to judge? The man wasn't much to look at; he was a chubby and young, in the rich but thin clothing typical of a more equatorial, hot-weather dictatorship--none of that northern European finery with all its furs and thick cloth. Most of his clothing was nearly transparent, but layered and richly styled; the kind of clothing worn by men whose minions worried about heatstroke and not hypothermia, even if this particular bastard had probably never worked a day in his life, nor ever been more than ten feet from a cool glass of water. He was young, spoiled, and you could see in his face that he was an idiot, if a very polite and well-meaning one.

I bowed stiffly to him, counting on his politeness, and said, "With all due respect, your majesty, I appreciate the offer, but I think it's best if I go it alone." I looked over at the other four heroes, but not really giving them any opportunity to interrupt, quickly continued. "I mean no disrespect, of course, and if your nation is ever truly in need of me, I may be convinced to return. But for now, I think I must find my own way."

The king put a hand to his chubby, shaved chin, and frowned. "If you must," he said, doubtful.

The vizier snapped his head towards him, angrily. "Your majesty--!"

"Then, I bid you farewell," I said, and turned to walk boldly out of the room, with absolutely zero idea of where I was going or even how to get out of the building.

"Colin!" John broke ranks to try to grab my arm, but while he was able to lay a hand on me, I grabbed his own with my mental power before his fingers could close. He... didn't try to force that, but he did lean in and whisper quietly. "Are you sure about this? After what we discussed last night..."

"I know," I whispered back. In truth, we hadn't had much time to make a good decision, but I didn't like any of this, from the very beginning. We'd only been given a day to talk about it, but... there also didn't seem to be that much of an urgency. People in power just always wanted things done on their schedule, was all. "Look..." I shook my head. "Everyone got powers that fit them, right? Everyone--all of you," I emphasized slightly, "feel like you were chosen for a reason."

"So maybe this was all done intelligently, and maybe I was meant to be different." I pulled away from him, but met his eyes. "Look... as far as I'm concerned, we're parting as friends and equals. I don't hate you. But I won't be Jafar's errand boy," I nodded towards the vizier, my facial muscles bristling with repressed disgust.

Jess stepped up, too. "What do we do if we need to find you?"

I looked at her, and at the other two. I shrugged. "I don't know," I said. "I don't know where I'm going. Probably just out to build my own place somewhere. I'm sure you or Alice will be able to send a message. In the meantime..." I laid a hand on John's shoulder, then Jess's. "Thanks."

In my mind, I could feel the touch of Jess' thoughts, though it felt clumsy, as though she had to force her Staff to do it. Perhaps telepathy was not a part of her magical gifts, despite everything. Did you seriously just irradiate that asshole?

I met her eyes and let the grin spreading across my face answer that, and each of my hands delivered a final shoulder pat before I turned away and walked out of the throne room.

In the end, guards directed me out of the palace when I asked, and I found a merchant caravan willing to take me to a nearby city, leaving immediately. Before they had quite finished loading, though, I found myself walking near a shadowy corner only to find the Grand Vizier suddenly stepping out of the darkness, apropos of nothing, a stony look on his face.

"What did you do to me?" he hissed, his body otherwise stiff, either with rage, or because it was a poor illusion--the bracers were quite clear on the fact that he was not here in person.

"Hopefully, I killed you," I said. "Though, maybe not fast enough. It doesn't matter now." I turned to look at the illusion. "I know what you wanted me to do, to be. I won't do it. The others may be pawns in your plan--"

"You have no idea what kind of majestic creations your power will enable," he snarled at me. "And you'll give it all up, for what, your pride?"

"For yours," I answered, tiredly. "Your pride is what drove me away, but I know you'll claim everything is my fault and not yours. So no, I won't be your pet architect, or weapons maker, or whatever else." I turned to the caravan and hopped into the nearest cart, looking back over my shoulder at the fading illusion and ensuring that, at least in my own mind, I had the final word.

"I'll be my own."