A hand, impossibly large, covered the earth from space. An eye glared down upon the population as mere particles of dust, to be swept away with a single breath. It would share and observe shifts in power under its protection, those without would be safe and those with would be recorded. Soon it would begin the transference process.

Then it had been trapped, frozen and removed from reality as others of its kind had realised its dreadful purpose and chosen to punish it. The being had believed itself as a kind being.

With purpose and deliberation, punishment and pain were both exacted, the power that had been chosen to be shared was ripped from within and cast down. Voices of dissension were ignored in favour of sentencing.

To try and change others by changing yourself was not acceptable. Not on this scale. The hairless apes didn’t deserve the attention of the true gods.

Gods needed to be understanding of both them and others. Pieces of the imprisoned and damaged god fell to earth, giving rise to demi-gods and humans with powers beyond normal ability.

A voice called out to the young man fast asleep and deep in his dreams. A thirst in his throat he didn’t realise ached him before he heard a last shout deep in the recesses of his mind. The last moment between waking and sleeping when a nightmare hit the hardest.

‘Amnesia with a dose of harsh reality, youth without age, and helpless effort in the face of uncaring gods with powers beyond mortal ability. When did we wake up to this new reality? You need to get up now. Old man. Wake. Up. WAKE UP!’

Frank woke up and shook the cobwebs from his head. The dream had been a particularly bad one this time; he’d been forced to sit in a chair while being shouted at by a crowd with disfigured and unidentifiable faces. He knew they were victims, but they were full of sheer hate, in their blood and brains and souls.

Complete hate, for him alone. The last person had come right to his face, spittle flying from their mouths and bulging eyes stretched out as they screamed those final two words at him. It was a full mirror image of himself but covered in scars and blood.

A victim of a superhuman with low impulse control and a bad temper, he didn’t like the sight of himself looking so beat-down and expressing that much sheer hate. It might have scared him further then if he thought about it in detail so he decided to try and move on with his thoughts as best as he could.

A reflection of my self-loathing then. Or general dislike of supes. I’m not using the ‘g-word.

He sat up on his bed and rubbed his eyes; he thought that it hadn’t been a bad dream. More of a nightmare, his body wasn’t covered in sweat from fear though. An ache instead ran through his chest as he had just let someone fall from a bridge, fingers slipping through as he struggled to grasp on but failed. He gri This was reality now, not a fugue state. He hadn’t slept that well in the last six months since he’d woken up from his coma in a hospital bed, apparently the victim of an attack from rogue Gifted.

Frank figured that the bad dreams were simply a way of his mind processing the trauma that he had suffered and was either trying to process it or block it out; he’d completely refused medication and chosen to throw himself into his work instead. That and exercise would keep him well enough he hoped, the relative youth of his body doing the rest of the work on his behalf.

No. Only a bad dream.

Struggling to sit up and took one look from his upstairs bedroom window with his gaze landing on a damaged and war-torn street. A small taste of all the destruction and chaos caused by a curse on the city he lived in that affected all of humanity. Idiots in costumes with powers they didn’t know how to use. Causing havoc in his community. They’d pay for it, eventually. He wasn’t quite sure how it would happen, but it was a process of thought at least. Or he’d die horribly in the process. These things took time to set up but for now, he needed to get up and start his usual working day.

Standing up in his pyjamas he stood for a moment looking at his reflection in a full-length bedroom mirror average height, greyish-blue eyes, a lean build with compact muscle, brown hair with a streak of white grey in the front. His mouth was creased into a semi-smile as though finding the state of the world amusing. Frank wasn’t laughing. He didn’t remember if he was the type of man who had a sense of humour although he liked to think that he did. Permanent amnesia did that to a person.

After dropping to the floor and running through an already worn-out exercise routine consisting of yoga, push-ups, squats, and stomach crunches, he grabbed a bottle of water he kept beside his bed before heading into the bathroom and cleaning himself up after relieving himself. He never looked at himself more than once a day otherwise he’d feel increasingly annoyed at the face gazing back at him. The face of a kid. His actual birthday still eluded him along with a whole lot of other memories.

He was tempted to dye the rest of his hair to match the grey streak in a vain attempt to look older but made a mental note of it for another day. He’d need to do something about his hair later today, the colour of it was far too noticeable. Good in one sense for when he was out and about making his rounds but not for the early afternoon when the meet-up would happen.

I’d tell myself to piss off, but I already did my business in the bathroom. Youth be gone.

He went to his wardrobe and grabbed his working clothes for the day; jeans, tough brown work boots, classic red trunks for his underwear accompanied by a plain black shirt and pink hoodie. The last item of clothing was more of a requested item from a good friend than his personal choice. A bright pink hoodie with sequins and glitter, in various shades of pink. It had a detailed picture of a sparkling rainbow with a unicorn grinning on the front which made for a sharp contrast with the rest of his looks.

After dressing up in it, he looked again in the mirror and felt ridiculous. It wasn’t the colour that bothered him but rather the overall effect that it gave on him. It made him look even younger than his actual age, cute even. He didn’t mind wearing it as he felt a complete lack of embarrassment about dressing up, confidence in himself was a far different feeling from self-loathing.

After he wore it over his clothes and looked in the full-length mirror, he realised how much of a contrast it gave his looks. Yes, he looked better but even more youthful than before. He did have to admit that his best friend had an excellent choice when it came to items of pink clothing, but he’d have to disappoint her for another day. If she stopped by his flat, then he’d wear it but otherwise, it would be a discussion for another time.

A hard nope on that. Sorry, Benny. Another day maybe.

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The only downside was that it made him look young, which he was. At twenty-two years old he took on far more responsibility than would have been expected at his age. Frank might not be able to beat superhumans, but he could still salvage what he could from the ruins and get financial support sorted out for those in need, at least in his neighborhood.

The pink hoodie was carefully removed and gently folded before he put it back into his wardrobe and took out a brown worn-out leather jacket. He might still look young but not too badly this time. Recalling the difficulties that he might face, Frank realised that he’d need to make specific preparations in advance. He headed back into the bathroom grabbing a can of odourless deodorant along with a roll-on that could be applied over his back and chest.

Sweat. Just in case but it hasn’t happened just yet.

When he felt stressed enough Frank felt that fountains sweat would come out. He was sure that it wasn’t an age-related thing about his glands but rather just that he always tried to take on more than he should. Sometimes, just sometimes, a day like today could get worse. All he needed was a supe freak wannabe to throw a tantrum but not get their goods. Or worse be detected by a random real superhuman wandering around who noticed his particular scent. He didn’t need that, not today, so he took off his jacket and shirt before making sure that the deodorant was applied all over. The funny part was that he’d never sweated yet despite feeling like he was going to.

If he needed to, he’d apply it again in the store but this much ought to last him for a good while. Enough even until he had to get changed for sales. He took one look at himself in his bedroom full-length mirror before he practised a swift smile and got himself dressed again, making sure his clothes were straightened out and uncrumpled.

Time to assess and get the damage sorted out. Bunch of idiots freaks.

For the second time this month, a wind-powered fist or laser eye fight had broken out between the low-level superhumans that lived in his city and caused chaos and destruction on a minor scale. The news reported it as a small outbreak of violence as though it was a rainy day with outbreaks of thunder.

Beyond that, the only ones affected were the local people who lived and worked there. It had become so common that it was barely taken notice of anymore. Not for Frank though, he took all of it personally. Each broken streetlight or dented car, this was his neighbourhood, his street and they were his responsibility.

He felt that his insurance coverage would cover it, but his premiums would increase and that would mean that he’d have to take on more work to cover his costs. The policy of the national government had been to ignore any street-level fights and let the higher-level organisations deal with the big-scale stuff. Private industry protected the rich areas and communities like his were left without government subsidies and the minimum support and repair needed.

It meant larger disbursements and boosts to the economy of those rich enough to live in nicer areas. higher levels of organised security measures as well, if he could sell some of his power limiters, or detection equipment there, he’d make a lot of money. Shame he didn’t have the right connections.

The heavy stuff resulted in casualties and mass destruction of property. It’d always be one of the powerful and recognised ones getting involved, good or bad. Thankfully, the big fights between a supervillain who wanted to hold a city to ransom and a superhero who aimed to limit them beat them down and either cause a retreat or a surrender were few and far between. Those scale fights happened once or twice a year, tops. He would always hold a sponsored holiday for those occasions, he’d organise and pay for the older folk to leave the city for a few weeks so they would stay safe at least.

Frank couldn’t think of a single reason that the top superheroes and villains would turn up in his part of town though. The property prices weren’t high enough and everyone living here was plain normal folks. Not rich enough to move or poor enough to be noticed.

The big ones keep away because they don’t get recognition for fighting in the backyard.

The financial districts always had a much higher status in the city and all of the buildings and structures over there had been reinforced and specially equipped to handle attacks from superhumans. Accidental or otherwise. Frank had heard rumours that the city had even supplied a private security force to protect and guide staff on their way to work. It wouldn’t be a surprise to him that some of those buildings were protected by a few registered superhumans to boot, the ones that didn’t work for the government that was.

He could just imagine the scene of people dressed in smart suits escorted to their respective offices by technologically enhanced and well-trained private military company employees. Not quite a war zone scenario but more of a how dare my latte to get spilt by two superhumans having a punch out over an argument which was the top pavement breaker of the month. Idiots the lot of them. If their brains were as big as their tempers they’d be fighting in isolated regions or entering competitions instead.

No, for him it was all the small-scale stuff that caused him a headache. Even dealing with criminal gangs and making weekly payoffs would be a better result. The fact was that if you lived in a place where small-scale overpowered superhumans chose as their mini battlefield, weekly then crime was going to take its business somewhere safer and more secure.

He was sure that there were criminal gangs that were run by superhumans but not the regular sort around these parts. Not after the last five years running of laser eye blasts and spit ice bombs.

It was all the smaller-scale inner-city fighting that caused shopkeepers like Frank headaches. He could always report that there had been a fight, it was as though there had been a minor storm that had only hit a restricted area. A few holes in the ground, windows smashed, and a dozen broken vehicles.

He ought to be thankful that given the powers of superhumans normal people were afraid to steal any goods. Besides, it was like an unspoken verbal agreement. You didn’t steal from an area that had just suffered from a superhuman fight. People understood its basic principles of it, crime attracted both superheroes and supervillains. Either that or strong egos caused a constant headache for your average baseline human who was trying to live their life.

There was just no way that any normal police forces would be constantly patrolling all of the districts in the city. Frank had heard rumours that richer areas in the city had special protection programs in place and as a result the degree of conflict there was almost non-existent. He thought that it was because wealthy supers owned properties there or those with money or high-level government didn’t want the prices of their property portfolios to drop.

Either way, the mess that had been caused on the street with broken windows meant that today was going to be a maintenance and stock-checking day. He wouldn’t be able to focus on his new orders, not well enough when clients were paying for a decent standard. Even though Frank’s store wasn’t found in a popular area but rather on the edge of some rougher streets, he still aimed to put his heart and soul into every product that he made. It was a rough mixture of his pride and an overwhelming desire to give something back to the community.

He had first been welcomed here after his being discharged from a city government hospital and his pitifully few customers had been from the same storefronts on the street who had initially taken pity on his situation and then realised that the security and protection products, he sold were far above your usual standard. His memory might have been lacking but his electronic skills certainly weren’t.

The money had been enough to cover the rent and pay for both him and a single employee, Benny, who was at the moment running later than he had expected. He had told her to turn up by nine am at the latest to help him package and sort through the work for the week.

Not as though the roads outside this area are going to be full of holes. The buses, trams and metro still work. She doesn’t drive a vehicle.

It wasn’t the richest store in the world in the best location, but it entirely belonged to him. His electronics repair and production business. Looking at the mess of the shop's front windows Frank sighed. He had customers waiting for their orders and spending time cleaning up wasn’t going to pay the bills. Grabbing a large broom that held metallic bristles and a large yellow storage bucket, he began the process of sweeping the glass and debris into a nice tidy pile next to the door.

Not going to take me long to get this mess fixed up. Best to show Benny a decent example.