Jericho sat in his small dining room table with a bowl of noodles in front of him. It had gone cold as his mind shifted to thoughts about his soon to be ability.

Jericho had cooked the meal just twenty minutes ago, and by cooked he threw a block of sodium into roaring, boiling water, then mixed it with a package of what was supposedly chicken flavor, whatever that meant. No longer hot, the taste was not as strong. More sodium would probably make it taste better. Without thinking he slurped up the rest of the noodles and drank the rest of the soup. The corners of his mouth were met by sodium goodness, which he wiped away with content.

His mom had suggested to stop eating that garbage, but that garbage was what he always found himself coming back to eat.

His mom was still working at the studio, probably doing another welding job or maybe she was refining a sword for a client. Her main career was working as a nurse, but she also used her powers to make some extra money.

Jericho put his bowl away, did a lazy job of cleaning it and the rest of the dishes, then went to his room. He booted up his laptop, which he should have done before because he sat there for two minutes, the same amount of time it took him to wash the dishes. Jericho impatiently waited for the start-up screen to finally load.

When the computer finally did, he searched entry level jobs into one tab and then local colleges and universities into another. The laptop froze momentarily as the two tabs were too much for it to handle. The first thing he would do with his paycheck was buy a better laptop.

Articles built to guilt-shame flooded his search feed. He was instantly overwhelmed and closed the local colleges and universities tab to focus better. It also helped increase the computer’s performance. He figured he would look for a job first, then think about school. The harsh failure of being rejected from schools still crept and ate at him. It was best that he figure out what his ability was first, and it was easier getting a part-time job, than to find a school.

Jericho clicked on a few website links: Entry Level Jobs for Any Superhuman; Career and Job Quiz. What Should I Do With My Abilities?; Summer Jobs for New Superhumans

Jericho quickly decided that he was wasting his time after scrolling through the first link as he skimmed looking for keywords. These were jobs for the truly gifted, those that were fortunate enough to have abilities that mattered. He had to look at the possibility that the ability he had was worthless, and that he would still be considered dirt in other people’s eyes.

Jericho rephrased his search to Jobs for people with bad abilities. He sighed as he clicked enter and was brought to the search feed. Jericho usually skipped the advertisements that appear above the search results, but the ads adversely piqued his interest.

The first ad was from a company that boasts that they hire anyone, which was a complete lie. Jericho had applied there, but as soon as he told the interviewer that he did not have abilities he was discarded as trash and tossed aside. He had nailed the interview and was getting cozy with the interviewer. Socializing was one of the many things he had to master to make up for his lack of powers, and even then, he was not very good at it. The problem was when the second interview began. He was not expecting a second interview. He thought he was homebound because he was not asked any questions about his powers in the first interview, but it all came crumbling down instantly after he had shaken the second interviewer’s hand.

She had gone off on a tangent on how her ability had helped her greatly in the job, how she was making a difference in the company she worked at. Jericho would have laughed at her face. He should have. The company did not value her, he thought. She must have known that they only valued her ability and the money it was making. Jericho wished she knew that.

She must have been ready to hire him at that point because she suggested that he answer just one question as a formality. She asked him the most job interview question that anyone could ask. It was a question more annoying than “Tell me about yourself” or “Who are you as a person?” The question was “How has your ability improved your life, and what can it do to help us here.”

Jericho was immediately taken aback at the time, and she must have sniffed from a mile away that something was up. Long story short: She figured out he did not have abilities. She made a whole deal of it, and excused herself momentarily. In the room over, she yelled at the previous interviewer, loud enough for Jericho to hear.

“Why did you bring an ungifted here? Are you trying to waste my precious time?” She had said. She had emphasized the word ungifted and precious. It was to make him feel worse than he already did, and she succeeded.

When she was done fake reprimanding at her coworker, she returned with a poorly put-together poker face, and smugly told Jericho that they were sadly not hiring. Jericho remembered her face well. He remembered how the creases of her mouth were ready to burst into a fit of laughter, and how she finally did when he left the room. “He’s eighteen too? Without any abilities?” were the last things he heard the interviewer say.

She was not particularly careful of hiding her dismay at all, her guffawing laughs echoed into the store and even when he was no longer within distance, he could still hear that cackling, shrieking laugh in his head. He felt eyes watching him, taunting him as he exited the store. The laughter leeched into his skin whenever he remembered the memory. It made his skin shudder, and made him feel so vulnerable.

Laughter from strangers always sounded like cackling hyenas to Jericho.

His friend Harrison was outside pushing carts. And by pushing he was using his telepathic powers to gather the carts together pushing them all with his mind. Harrison had said he was going to become a cop or detective, but honestly, he had so many opportunities and paths to choose from at the time, especially with the ability to move things with his mind.

“Hey, Jericho,” Harrison had said. He nodded at Jericho’s professional-like attire. “Are you applying here?”

“Just had my interview,” Jericho had said.

“Really, how did it go?” Harrison said. “We need another cart pusher. They make me do everything by myself. It would be nice to have someone to talk to.”

Hiss. A radio on Harrison’s pocket had pinged. “Hey, Harry, is that ungifted kid still here?” The voice was the same lady, and she still could not contain her laughter. He quickly switched off the radio.

Jericho had squeezed his fists hard wanting to hit something.

“Sorry, man. Don’t listen to them. They’re just being dicks with nothing better to do.”

Jericho had remained silent rushing back to his car, which the test he was fortunate enough to take when he was fifteen. Who knows how the driver’s center would treat him if he were a year or two older?

Jericho exhaled, closed his eyes and pushed the uncomfortable memory aside. It still lingered, but he focused again.

The second ad was something about Jobs for any low life. We hire anyone! And the third ad was about Suicide prevention and mental health services. Call now!. Either these ads were specifically created for him from his personal search history and cookies, or that the statistics were true about the less fortunate ability holders who did not find or have meaning in life.

This was obviously not going to work as well. He closed the tabs, shut down his laptop, and gave his mom a call. It went to voicemail, which he quickly hung up and he proceeded to shoot out a text about when she was coming home.

It was still early evening. He had plenty more to do, but he especially wanted to talk to someone about his new ability, even if it still remains to be extracted.

He shot Harrison a text message to hang.

Jericho: You want to hang out?

Harrison: Obviously, dumbass

Harrison: But I have school work

Jericho: When do you not?

Harrison: Fuck it. Just come over. I could use the company. This shit succckksss

Jericho: I’ll be there in a bit

***

Jericho ringed Harrison’s doorbell, and immediately Harrison’s voice came out from the speaker attached to the doorbell. “I told you not to ring when I know you’re coming. It’s already unlocked, and I know when you’re here.”

“Yeah, I just like—” Jericho began before he opened the door and finished as he came in. “—pissing you off.”

“Yeah, shut up and shut the door already.”

“Don’t you have powers for that.”

“Very well reserved ones that I use for good sadly,” Harrison said. “At least now I use it for good.”

“Pushing shopping carts wasn’t for good?” Jericho said.

“Haha,” Harrison said dryly. “Very funny.”

“Whatcha working on?”

“Some dumb-as-fuck prerequisite shit. I still have gen eds to do sadly. I’m taking a psychology class on fucking superhumans.”

“You’re fucking superhumans? Is that like an intro to fucking or–”

“You’re funny,” Harrison said.

Jericho laughed. He toned down and said, “Psychology classes sound police related.”

“I suppose,” Harrison said. “I generally have a better grasp of people by just talking to them. I don’t need to psychoanalyze why someone decides to rob a store. It’s usually something about their upbringing yada yada, and having shit abilities.”

“Our future police force, ladies and gentlemen,” Jericho said.

“I’m thinking of dropping out or doing some other shit. I should have joined the military.”

“So you could fight in those pointless wars?”

“Better than studying for this exam.”

“On one hand you have killing other superhumans, and on the other you have protecting citizens. I love that parallel.”

“I think I just like fighting, man,” Harrison said. “It’s like an addiction.”

“You like getting your shit kicked in?” Jericho said jokingly. Jericho already knew that Harrison loved to fight, but he never blatantly admitted it before. Something must be going on, possibly just stress from school. Jericho put that thought in the backburner for now.

“Sure,” Harrison said. “I know it sounds weird, but a punch to my face feels great. I must be a masochist. But, seriously, I only feel alive when I fight. Maybe I should drop out to become a professional super-fighter. I could make a lot of money that way. Some get paid millions just for one fight.”

“Your ability is not really flashy honestly. I can’t say that I know many telekinetic fighters. They’re usually doing higher paying jobs, aren’t they? Also, can’t you just use your little telekinesis powers to bind your opponent and kill them instantly?”

“Every major fighting organization has rule books in place, otherwise it would be no fun watching two people fight unfairly. Things like handicaps and rules are determined when new people join. There’s an entire team of people that set those super-fights up. Nobody simply gets tossed in to brawl. A lot goes on behind the scenes.” Harrison scratched his head, already done with that part of the conversation. “Fuck dropping out. I need to stop being such a pussy. Stop putting bad ideas in my head, Jericho.”

“Turn on the T.V.” Harrison said. He pointed to a remote on a table. “The season finale of Cops and Robbers is on.”

“You have powers, man,” Jericho said.

“I’m tired.”

“You literally just have to use your mind.”

“Psychology is beating my ass.”

“Fine,” Jericho said. He grabbed the remote and pressed the power button.

The T.V. purred on. It was a relatively newer model that was built with faulty parts. Harrison could return it since the manufacturer said they would allow returns, but he never had the time to do so, or at least that is what he told Jericho.

On the T.V., a police car chased after another vehicle, while a flock of other police vehicles followed suit. At this point police chases were pure entertainment. Want to see something cool? Just turn on the T.V. and a crime is probably being broadcasted. The broadcasts became so well-crafted that overtime keeping people safe turned into a business that made billions of dollars yearly.

“Why don’t you do that?” Jericho said.

“I’m thinking about it, but you have to get up the ladder to do those types of things. It’s easier being a detective, and on the show, you only get paid if you capture the criminal.”

“They have sponsors, don’t they?”

“Oh, I haven’t thought about that,” Harrison said.

An animation appeared, the words Visor Energy Instant Replay showed on the screen, before cutting back to the video reel. How could Harrison miss something so blatantly noticeable? Jericho even noted a few sponsors on the police vehicles.

In the replay, it broadcast a police vehicle that flipped over and totaled on the side of the road. The video cut back now showing medics tending to the person’s wounds, while the rest of the police cars continued. The next police car moved up in line, and it was now their turn to detain the criminal.

“I am so excited to see what Richie Gomez has in store for us!” Announcer Zachary Williams said.

“I have to agree! I cannot wait to see what he does with his flaming balls of fire!” Co-announcer Sasha Barrington said. “Let’s not forget the other part of the duo! His twin Mary Gomez is the very woman driving the car; with her clairvoyance she is calculating every route and path possible.”

“We’re in for a treat for sure!” Williams said. “Remember, folks. This episode is sponsored by Shave Beyond! Because nobody goes more above and beyond than Shave Beyond!”

Harrison put aside his work, which meant he was done studying and remembered every bit of material he had just reviewed. His attention was now fixed onto the T.V.

Richie Gomez threw his first fireball, an obvious miss, or maybe a well thought out fireball using his sister’s clairvoyance.

“This sure is a historical event! These pros will be entering their 100th criminal chase and this could be their 95th capture. Will they set a world record, and become famous?” The announcer roared with excitement. “Or will they falter, and become forgotten like the rest of the pros that never return?”

The other announcer beamed, “I sure hope they capture him! It would be sad not seeing the twin duo again. If they do fail, it was nice seeing them.”

Most professional police chasers never quite get the same recognition when they hit their stride, and eventually their peak. It usually goes down from there. At that point, the audience becomes tired of them, and finds them no longer worth their time, the competitors themselves washed up. Such is the environment of a competitive field. Pros are usually given five chances of failure before changing sports or looking elsewhere for competition. Even if they do recuperate or do well again pros are easily discarded and thrown aside and a fresh, new rookie gets a chance at stardom.

“They’ve had four losses in a row. They’re going to choke,” Harrison said. “That, or shit is rigged. No ones ever gotten to 100 captures, nevertheless 95.”

“Now, let’s look at the bounty!” The announcer said. “Here, we have the tough, hardened criminal, Isaiah Delton. He escaped from one of the country’s most fortified private, state prisons, and has been on the run for ten years. Since then, he has been running the underground trade of drugs, guns, and narcotics, and has been terrorizing the city of Claude. He currently has a bounty of $740,000. Here we have Cheryl Abernathy with one of the town’s citizens.”

The feed transitioned and showed two women. Behind them was an audience. They cheered and waved and made faces towards the camera.

“Isaiah Delton is finally being pursued,” Abernathy said. “How do you feel about that?”

The woman with an already frowning face said, “That monster deserves to die! He is a disease that plagues our streets. Our children are unsafe. I hope they kill him, that fu-”

Abernathy quickly pulled the mic back towards her, “Whoa! That is a lot of animosity. I can relate deeply. This sounds similar to the case that happened in the Friar City, when they finally captured Fuse Mamoru. Well, let us hope that they catch this man too.”

The feed transitioned back. The two announcers showed back on screen.

The box containing the two announcers tightened into a smaller shape, until they were in a tinier box on the screen.

“Very tragic,” Williams said.

“Indeed, very sad,” Barrington said. “The man should be back within bars. If the Gomez twins can handle this, then they will obtain the $740,000 bounty on his head.”

A second later they were gone, still commentating. The feed went back to the cars.

The Gomez twins were still in pursuit. Something had gone wrong, since they transitioned to Abernathy interviewing that citizen. The chase should have ended by now, with the Gomez’s car totaled, Isaiah’s car totaled, or a fight between all of them. None of that was happening.

They were still chasing after the car.

“I told you,” Harrison said. “Shit’s rigged. They probably have someone fucking with their abilities, and that’s why they don’t want to advance. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re being told to lose on purpose at this very moment. I could be overthinking it though."

“Gomez twins any good?” Jericho said. He never spent time watching these shows. Why would he enjoy watching people with abilities he does not have?

“Yeah, they’re good. They were detectives before this. They’re very smart. Her clairvoyance is very strong, but I would say that she probably doesn’t even need it. She solves crimes without even fucking trying. You should search her up.” Harrison continued. “Don’t get me started on the brother. He controls fire. I know; big fucking deal, right? Well, he can control it to the tee. He manipulates that shit with such ease that it could do anything for him. I heard he could thread a flame through a needle from a mile away. That’s how good he is.”

Jericho nodded. It was impressive after all. He wondered what types of things he could do with his power, and the learning curve he would have to go through to even become an expert at his own ability.

“Do you think there is such a thing as a bad ability?” Jericho asked.

“A bad ability?” Harrison said. “No such thing. It’s how you utilize it that matters.” He glanced away from the T.V. momentarily to look at Jericho. “Hell, you would be fine if you stopped relying on your need for an ability so much. Use that brain of yours, Jericho. Powers aren’t everything. I know that shit makes you mad, and that I can’t relate because I do have a power, but there’s truth to what I say.”

Jericho gritted his teeth. Harrison was right; he cannot relate. He wanted to punch Harrison in the face but decided against picking a fight with someone that has telekinesis powers.

“Fucking ad break,” Harrison cursed. He instantly transitioned and went back to studying.