- One week earlier -

“Hey there hot stuff, want to have fun?”

A hooker greeted me as I left the bar with her hands wrapped around her stomach she was leaning down so far it look like a bow. She smiled as she noticed me staring and lifted herself up. Her back wasn't completely straightened, purposefully giving me a full view of her sizable cleavage. She was normally colder unless you paid, but I'd given her a free – of money and other kinds of payment – place to stay every now and then if she hit a rough patch or had to hide from someone.

“I'm not that drunk Sophie. Thanks for the offer like always.” I made a mock 'shooing away' motion with my hands and crossed the street.

She poked her tongue out at me, “You wouldn't know pleasure if it hit you in the face Walden.”

“If only I had the money to find out if that was true.”

I could feel my balance tilting as I shuffled from side to side. Sophie walked parallel to me, past all the Chinese and Indian food stores. She may be a drag and prone to legging it every time she heard sirens but she had a good heart. She only stopped once I reached the edge of the corner block she'd designated her turf, it was obvious that she thought I was drunk. But did my breath really smell so bad that she had to walk on the other side of the street?

“Stay here a second.” She shouted from the corner side and walked over to me.

I gazed around the dimly lit street nervously. I always found myself out after light whenever I saw that Sophie was around, I mean, its not exactly safe for a girl to be doing this sort of work outside. Definitely just checking up as a friend. Nothing more to read into there. The street itself was a mishmash of buildings in different shapes and sizes. a few meters away five story apartment complexes were squashing a small convenience store in-between them.

I turned my head back to Sophie who had walked next to me and was pulling something out of her bra, revealing a little more than she intended.

“Is it party time already?” I raised my eyebrows and I swear she blushed slightly.

“Come on. It's nothing you haven't seen before.”

I smiled and looked up into the air whistling innocently, “I haven't seen anything. Don't think I'll be tricked out of my money by your little schemes.”

She rolled her eyes and grabbed my hand, gently rolling something into my palm. I followed her gaze and as I unfurled my fingers I found myself looking at two metal poles. There wasn't anything special about them. They were smooth, a white-gray sort of color, like you see booths made out of. A small wire connected them both. Like a really crappy key chain or magnet.

“What is this?”

Her eyes lit up with a tinge of excitement but then she turned around and walked off, lifting her hand in the air in dismissal.

“Good luck charm. Walk safe.”

I looked at her nubile figure as she walked and thought about how it would have been safer if we had both gone home together. But I was sober enough to know that she would get all prissy and complain about how she could take care of herself. I gripped the metal poles tightly and walked down the road.

'I really need to piss.'

My body trembled as the urge to urinate grew. It felt like an angry gnome had decided to attack my bladder and wouldn't stop until I let it out or died. I swept my gaze around and my eyes brightened as I saw the small convenience store. It was closed but there was a little alleyway leading into its backyard that looks enclosed enough to not be seen. Normally I wouldn't have considered pissing there but my bladder and the alcohol were shoving down my rational thoughts.

'If I get stabbed in this place I only have you to blame, me.'

I looked both ways to check for cops, stopping a second on the distant Sophie, and quickly snuck into the alleyway.

'This is way too public,' I thought to myself as I suddenly realized that this alleyway wasn't as closed off from the street as I'd thought, 'I could get arrested.'

I tried to look nonchalant as I gazed around the street a final time and popped out of the alleyway into the convenience stores back yard. I looked around a smirk. It was unlit but even then I could see a space big enough to fit a delivery truck. The two apartment buildings on the sides cut it off from the street and would block any prying eyes. Perfect.

“Move it over here Johnny.”

I stepped forward as my eyes adjusted to the lack of light, found the nearest wall to keep myself sturdy, and exhaled in relief as my bladder emptied. It wasn't my proudest moment. I brushed my hand over the smooth metal surface I was using to hold myself up. It didn't feel like a wall or a door.

'What is this thing?' I looked at it curiously.

It was a fruit delivery truck. That kind with the big picture of smiling fruits and vegetables pasted on its side. It didn't look like any sort of delivery truck I'd ever seen though. In the dark it looked like the metal had taken on a green glow in the dark, and the metal was rusted in patches all across the surface of the fruit advertisement. One of the smiling broccoli’s looked like a rusty knife. Both the wheels at the back were blown out and looked like shredded paper.

'That's none of my business.'

I zipped up and pushed myself away from the truck wall. A single clap resounded from the impact and I shook my head at the sudden noise. Voices suddenly broke out from somewhere nearby and before I could move away a shadow appeared in front of me. I gaped and staggered backwards as I came face to face with the ugliest guy I've ever seen. In the pale sliver of moonlight that was let into the backyard the man's face looked like the grand canyon. His cheeks and his forehead seemed to be emphasizing their conclaves as though he had been smoking for years and his skin was pale white and mottled with wrinkles. A short pudgy nose that looked like it had been broken at some point was hanging low over a tiny pair of lips that were pursed into a frown.

“Well,” he clicked his fingers at the back side of the truck and I could hear another pair of feed shuffling around in the dark, “This is unexpected. What are you, the police?”

“Police? I haven't seen them around.” I hesitated as I was hit with the fact that I was being accosted in a back alley by a thuggish man, “Names Walden. I don't have anything to do with the police, I swear.” The man's expression didn't change and I began to sweat, “Hate police. Definitely hate them. Hate any crime fighters.”

Crime fighting. The man reacted by contorting his face into a sinister grimace as his mottled skin suddenly became a lot more menacing.

'Maybe crime fighters weren't the best things to talk about.'

Crime fighting. The trend that had swept through the world fifty years ago. I wasn't clear on the details, but after the government successfully implemented a program where local powered people could train to fight crime on a salary, the crime fighting craze had blown over to ordinary civilians who joined the then defunct police force to fight crime on the streets. Years of fighting against wannabe-heroes seeking to make a name for themselves had caused criminals to scrutinize every living thing they found with caution. Just mentioning the words near criminals would make them want to hurt you.

“Did he just say Warden? Sounds like a hero name.”

Another man shuffled out from behind the truck but kept to a small distance away from us. His head covered by the ugly man's body so I couldn't see him properly. I guess my words had slurred more than I’d realized. At the word hero the man stiffened and his grimace turned stern. If there was a word that criminals hated more than crime fighting it was hero.

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The pinnacle existences in the era of crime fighting were the powered police, the PP. Affectionately known around the world as heroes, they were a mix of reality and myth in the publics eyes. For years was rumored that countries of the world had their own special task forces that were used to fight crime and more importantly, their enemies. It was only after a major incident between Russia and America fifty years ago that these rumors were proven to be true and that people with extraordinary 'powers' existed. Their actions rocked the world and inspired the moniker 'heroes'. Wave after wave of super powered people revealed themselves, most were good, some were bad. But in the present being a hero had turned into a full time job for workers that wanted to treat crime fighting as more than a game. Hell, most of them even fought crime on their off hours.

“You know what,” I was startled out of my thoughts and horrified to see the ugly guy pointing a gun at my face, “I don't care if you're a hero hopeful or just an unlucky bastard but I'm going to kill you.”

“N-no.” I vehemently shook my head and took a quick step back, feeling liquid and dirt crunch under feet. I could see the gun perfectly and suddenly felt as though I was falling through the air. It was as though the whole world was spinning.

*BANG*

My scream rung through the air and I felt a sharp pain in the back of my head as the gun shot decimated my eardrums and my life flashed before my eyes. A jobless bum that was living off his dead uncles inheritance money and not even trying to look for work. Between the lack of job and housing hookers in need I didn't have any friends or family, didn't play any sports or even do drugs to pass the time. The only break from my boredom was the television and a weekly newspaper I always found delivered outside my flat which I read throughout the week.

'Boy my life sucks.' I thought with a mental sigh, 'Wait a second. I can think.'

I could also move. I lifted my hands in front of my eyes and gave my body a pat in amazement, wincing as a pain shot out from the back of my head. My pants were wet and I barely registered the ugly man's shocked expression as he looked down on me. I had somehow landed on the ground, hitting my head in the process.

'I slipped on my piss.'

It was a bloody miracle. I'd slipped on the puddle of piss and fallen over right as the man shot at me.

“Nice dodge.”

I groaned as the man hunched over me and pointed the gun at me again. His eyes seemed to be filled with something. Respect?

“Johnny, go tell Toad that someone called Warden's found us. I'll be finding out what he knows.” He gave me a grin and I saw that he was missing his front teeth. Not that anyone would see it with his abnormally small lips.

His smile sent chills down my spine and a sob wracked through my body. I'd never considered being in this sort of situation before, I'm just a normal guy that has nothing to do with crime or heroes. My body is so normal its crazy, I came second last in the primary school fun run five years in a row. Shivers ran up and down my body and I couldn't stop them. The man clasped his gun and brought it down towards my balls, slowing down along the way to taunt me. It was like he could sense my nervousness.

“Speak now or wave goodbye to your children Warden.” I could see the other guy walking off to make a phone call.

My hands started to feel slick. It was a weird detail to concentrate on when a guy has a gun to my balls but they weren't sweating because of the debilitating fear. Something felt like it was trying to burn a hole through my hands and it my hands were trying to fight against it.

'What the hell is that. **** it's painful.'

The ugly guy nodded at my silence as though he had expected it and shrugged indifferently. He lifted his gun up and I heard the sound of an explosion. My vision went black and I could see faint lights like stars twinkling in the black expanse that was my blinded vision. I couldn't feel any pain. I couldn't hear anything. I couldn't see anything.

'Maybe I'm dead'. I peered into thin air, trying to clear my eyes and see something.

The darkness soon gave way to the stars and my vision cleared. As soon as my eyes stopped their little trip I saw that the stars were actually flames and whole place was on fire. The ugly guy had been blown against one of the apartment walls and was face down and his whole back was burning. He wasn't moving. I looked around, not sure about what was happening around me. The buildings were burnt, and the back of the truck was also on fire. No, it looked like it was the truck that had exploded in the first place. Right next to it half the convenience store was gone too and in its place was a huge smoking crater that looked like it went down at least several floors worth of space.

“What the hell.” I exclaimed as I gawked at my body.

I was completely fine.

No harm done to my clothes or body, no burnt hair either. On all sides of me purple walls protruded from the ground into the air, each one connected in such a way that they formed a four sided pyramid with me in the middle. The purple walls weren't dark, but they weren't particularly bright either. After a few seconds the walls flickered and with the faint sound of static they disappeared. Something warm dropped onto my head, bounced, and landed on my palm.

It was one of Sophie's metal poles.

'Tech.' A single word echoed throughout my brain.

Originally the world of crime fighting was dominated by three categories of heroes that each had their own special ways of kicking ass, thinkers, manipulators and enhancers. They were pretty generic names but this was fifty years ago. Thinkers generally had an enhanced mind. They were psychics, telekinetics and even mind readers. They were the scariest powered people. Nobody wanted their deepest secrets read or their minds blown up. Manipulators controlled things, elements and the like. We have a guy in the city that controls a blue force field. That's a manipulator. Enhancers are the most common type of powered. With the most variety they're anyone that's had a physical change occur to their body. It's weird to me that somehow this doesn't include the mind. It had been pointed out that a more precise term would be 'enhanced' but after fifty years the terms had stuck.

Then they invented the internet and the first Tech category powered was born.

Techs were a new breed of powered, they used common materials and knowledge to create technology years ahead of their time. If you walked into a Techs house then chances are their microwave is also a laptop and their phones can probably transform into attack drones. Rumor had it that the greatest Techs in the world had gathered together to make the most effective powered prison in the world, the Sphere. It was a common saying that if you were a Tech you could make something out of anything. Even an unassuming convenience store turned into a terrorist base.

A key chain made into shield.

Without looking back I ran from the fire and the body. I barely registered the fact that one of the metal poles was missing. It was too much for me to handle. I think I screamed on the way, and tried to cry. But my ears were still ringing too much to hear, and the fire had dried up all the tears. The world of heroes and criminals, of powered people, was divided from me by a huge chasm. I was a normal guy and they didn't have anything to do with me. As I ran home I had a sinking feeling. Maybe that world wasn't as far away as I thought it was, maybe there was no divide. That thought scared the life out of me. It was a merging I didn't want.

*Trrring* *Trrring*

I woke up with a start.

*Trrring* *Trrring*

'When did I get home? When did I fall asleep?'

*Trrring* *Trrring*

I stretched and yawned, pressing the answer button on the crappy little wall phone that came free with the flat.

“Good evening Warden.”

It didn't sound like my landlord.

“I am sure that you can conceive how surprised I was to hear that a trespasser had appeared on the premises of my base. Imagine my shock when the threat I had been informed was neutralized killed my lieutenant, a powerful powered in his own right, and all nine floors of my most important base had been destroyed by an explosion of unknown magnitude. All of this done without harming a single civilian and even sparing the majority of the convenience store. Perfectly placed, perfectly timed. Of course when we searched for you, you were unregistered. Off the grid. It appears we have been hoodwinked. I have been played by you since the beginning.”

I shot up from my bed as my drowsy morning was rudely interrupted. I looked at the phone in terror as the voice on the other end continued to drone on. It had a suave, dulcet tone to it and something else.

“But to find out what we needed to know all we had to do was turn on the TV. A hidden vigilante that strikes with deadly precision. I am honoured to talk to the man that took down Marco Special.”

'Marco Special? What the hell is that?' It sounded like something I'd order at an overpriced burger joint.

“I will cut to the chase Warden. I am not sure why you have chosen to go after my organization and I but I will not run away, nor will I play your games. Meet me at the Blue Macey Cafe at five o'clock one week from now. Or else, and forgive me for my cliché words, I shall have to kill you. Thank you for your time Warden. Toad.”

'Toad,' With a click the line died, 'What's that?'

I went to the couch, a headache forming from sudden events and fear hammering at my brain. A newscaster was in front of a convenience store and the large crater that had formed after half of it was destroyed. Police tape and a gaggle of brightly costumed heroes blocked the reporter from actually entering the crater.

“This is thought to be the work of the vigilante named 'Warden' who had previously remained unnamed in his crime fighting activities. We have already received reports that the terrorist leader known as Toad has issued a statement of vengeance online.”

The reporter was replaced with a grainy picture of a fierce looking man with bulging muscles holding a gun as he stood on the corpse of a costumed hero. I felt like someone had winded me and then twisted my intestines.

'This can't be happening.'

“Current reports on Warden's appearance have yielded nothing but conflicting views and conjecture as the enigmatic vigilante has rarely shown himself. Specialists speculate that his willingness to reveal himself is a sign of territorial claim. The questions on everyone's lips remain the same, will Warden stay in this city and how will he deal with Toad's threats?”

I turned off the TV and sunk into my couch as far as I could, wishing I could crawl inside it like a turtle into shells and hide from the world. I turned off the TV and sunk back into my couch.

'What the hell do I do now.'