Electri-City, newly debuted A-Class hero, named for his tendency to syphon the city's energy and cause district wide blackouts whenever he fights super villains. Renowned for his electrokinesis and cocky attitude, he’s a glass cannon, well deserving of A-rank status.

I carefully sketched the last line of the gaudy lightning bolt on his chest before leaning back to admire my work. Electri-City posed with his arms crossed, his impressively angled face giving off a feeling of overconfidence that was accentuated by the stubble and smirk plastered across it.

His illustrated suit was as ostentatious as they come: a tight and ultra tough graphene textile with goggles that had zig-zagging thunderbolts on the brims. While not coloured yet, I knew from TV that his suit had bright yellow covering most of it, and jet black on the back and legs to contrast against the vivid colour.

Feeling satisfied, I flipped the paper to page 96. Too Cool's alter ego was Elijah, an average year 12 student, otherwise known as me. Too Cool was a badass who could generate ice and manipulate it with extreme precision. At the age of 18, Too Cool discovered his powers in class when he accidentally froze a pencil solid. He went on to join the Young Heroes programme in order to learn how to become a real superhero.

The ice manipulator had curly brown hair and a soft face; a complete opposite to the ripped body it was attached to. Looking down at him, I realised I might've gotten a bit carried away with that. Regardless, my attention was quickly turned back to the superhero I imagined him as. He wore a thick jacket that was highlighted by furry--

“Hey man, what are you doing? Class ended about 2 minutes ago.” a familiar voice annoyingly called out.

Fumbling, I quickly closed my book and looked up at my good friend Ryan. “Mate, you’ve gotta stop sneaking up on me like that!” I stumbled out, flustered.

“Well excuse me,” he chuckled. “Why don't I wait here the whole lunchtime while you eyebang that journal?”

I dumbly stared at Ryan's face for a moment, still a bit taken aback. Ryan had a large nose, glasses and red hair. Definitely not a particularly attractive or popular guy, but a damn good friend.

“Well yeah, I guess you have a point.” I gradually got up and started walking with Ryan to the lunch hall while trying to hide a blush.

“Soooo, you're still cataloguing superheroes huh?” my friend sneered. I don’t think he saw the pictures, but it was certainly a safe bet.

“You're being nosy, but yeah.” I grumbled sheepishly.

“It may be considered childish, but there's certainly something cool about kicking a bad guy's arse and saving the day. Did you see Electri-City’s debut yesterday? Zap-zip-zap, dude. The guy was all over the place.” he started waving his hands wildly to demonstrate this. If I didn't know what he was talking about, I'd probably associate it with a headless chicken.

There's a reason every kid dreamt of being a superhero because it was as Ryan expertly noted, badass. Though at some point of everyone's life they realised they actually needed a super power to do anything. I stubbornly denied this truth however and would continue to do everything in my not-so-super power to achieve my goal.

In my research and from history class, I've only found two ways to get powers: to expose the body to certain stimuli or to have a superpowered parent. The second was not an option, so that left me with only one choice. The most surefire way to do this was to go through an extremely traumatic experience that triggers the dormant gene within most people that produced Protein X, necessary for superpowers.

I never quite understood the science-y talk behind Protein X, but Mr Mcfarlane made sure his class knew the history behind it. Apparently some crazy Biotech company called Artorias Evolution synthesised and distributed this unnamed gene therapy through clinical trials. They were meant to help with critical conditions and terminal illnesses by increasing the body's natural endurance and healing. Protein X set out what it needed to do and more. It caused increased physical attributes and was referred to as “the breakthrough of a millenia” and “the next step in human evolution”.

However, Protein X became extremely mutagenic. Individuals that shared any bodily fluids with a treated person began to produce Protein X. This completely destroyed the profit margin, but that was the least of the world's worries. Superpowers mutated and kept popping up all over the world like an infection. Deep trauma tends to make the best heroes, but also the worst villains. Crimes and acts of terrorism were being committed left and right, causing whole cities to be decimated by villains.

Forged through fire, the next era was born of iron. Select few super-cities flourished with the new age of technology, passing the Superpowered Code of Conduct, including a whole host of laws and institutions to help with the superpower epidemic. The Young Heroes program being one of these institutions is a part of bringing order to the chaos. The program is a part of a larger institution aimed at licensing powered individuals and making the world a safer place for supers and normals.

122 years later these civilisations run on ‘democracy’ and capitalism. These cities are heavily fortified clusters of humanity and are where most of the old world's culture remains. Information on anything outside the walls of Sydney is limited, but common consensus is that lawless wastelands ruled over by warlord supervillains span the outside. These beliefs pale in comparison to the other theories I've heard on the internet of the truly dangerous things begotten from the war.

God's sake, I'm starting to sound like Mr McFarlane. Where I was going is that I'm not risking my life on a chance at powers.

So instead, I subjected myself to other less intense forms of stimulus. I tried everything I could think of that could trigger the gene: ice baths for cryokinesis, sauna for fire manipulation, hooking myself up to a car battery in hopes of electrokinesis, even trying brain teasers in hopes of something psychic.

It wasn't unheard of for someone to develop a power just from experiencing a related catalyst. Though my time was running out. It was only a month until I graduated from senior school and I either went to a hero training course or took over my dad's shop and faced the jaws of mediocrity.

“You’re bumming me out man, what's wrong?” Ryan loudly crunched on his canteen taco, forcing words and crumbs out of his mouth.

“Ugh. You know, the usual. Turns out I only have 14 days left.”

“Holy shit, you’re still worrying about that? For god's sake man stop being a debbie downer.” He haphazardly choked down the rest of his taco and slapped the remains off his hands. He straightened his posture, clearly about to give me the same lecture I’ve heard from everyone. “You don’t wanna hear this, but you need to just face reality and take over your dad's demolition job. Like, I get that it may not be as glamorous as being a superhero, but it’ll do you good, you know?”

“I know you’re right but Ryan, but if there's a chance I need to take it.” I mumbled out weakly.

He rolled his eyes in an annoyed yet patient manner. “I know this means a lot to you. You can always become a cop or something if you’re really into the whole crime-fighting thing. Hey, why don't we go to the mall after school, call it my treat.”

I didn’t have the energy to point out that being a cop in a city with superheroes is pointless, so I just said “Yeah bet. Next lesson’s gonna start soon, so I'll see you in front of 5A after school.”

The two of us got up and walked in separate directions.

“‘Ight, be sure not to zone out and leave me waiting!” Ryan called out while waving his hand.

I heard, but said nothing.

***

Finally, school was over. If maths kept wringing my brain out like this, I might develop future sight within the week. I trekked my way towards class 5A while trying my best to weave between the hordes of people, merrily in thought of what I’d spend my hard-earned cash on at the arcade. What's the point of slaving away in fast food if I can't splurge a little?

Walking through a side corridor, I saw Ryan waiting there early like always next to the familiar white coloured walls that have gradually darkened near the top due to water damage.

“Yo! I bet you 5 games I’ll get to the arcade first.” Using a skill I called tactical brilliance and what others might call cheating, I hurried up my pace and slapped Ryan on the back of the head before he could properly process what I was saying.

“Oh you're on!” he yelled back before starting up behind me. I could already feel the adrenaline in my veins as I ran through the courtyard, ignoring the amused look of my peers.

Eventually I was zooming past block after block, observing the sterile architecture of the peak of the skyscrapers, hundreds of feet up. Each floor represents different eras making it obvious that the building had been rebuilt hundreds of times. Flashy neon lights and distasteful holographic advertisements begged for your attention blurred into beautiful coloured lines.

I bathed in the rushing feeling travelling up my body after each exhilarating step, the wind pulling on my curls making me feel alive. This is how I imagined fighting crime would be: a rush of adrenaline that made you feel like you're on the top of the world.

“BRO! STOP! STOP!” Ryan desperately yelled, out of breath.

“Hey, I’ve fallen for that one too many times. I need payback for those 5 games from last ti...” I noticed the flash of blue and the tell-tale hum of electricity.

Panic took over and I froze, looking around frantically to assess the danger. Time slowed and I saw a massive metal thing. Tendrils of electricity were repelling the object in our direction.

Was that a bus? A school bus?

***

A high-pitched whine filled my ears. Everything seemed inconsequential and unreal as I sat and tried to decide if I was even alive or not. I squinted into the dust and inspected the remains of the steel monolith, which lay calmly, surrounded by dust and debris. Holy shit… that was a school bus. I hope Ryan’s okay.

My head was overwhelmed with sensations as I slowly focused my mind on reality.

The whine diminished and I could hear the piercing screams now; the blood curdling kind that shakes you to the core.

The pervasive smell of blood, dust and oil choked my lungs.

Looking around, it seemed like by some miracle the bus hit the pavement to the side of me and crumpled, sending shrapnel everywhere, before the main body of the vehicle had hit me through the window of the cafe, ending with me on the floor covered in glass and shrapnel.

I looked to my side and saw someone. Their upper half had been torn off by a wheel. I couldn't even discern their gender. One moment they had been alive, the next they had ceased to exist.

Who would do this? Scanning over some shattered chairs and debris now that the dust was clearing, I saw a man whose head had been crushed by some concrete debris.

I wretched but nothing but blood came out. It was only now I looked down. My leg had been torn, long stretches of sinew painting the ground in blood rhythmically with my heart beat. Now I was truly present, I started to hyperventilate, but I couldn't bring myself to scream either due to shock or simply the sheer pain I found myself in.

With every breath, I felt objects wriggle throughout me and tear deeper inside me. I brought my hand up to my face: huh, a stump. My head began to feel befuddled and seconds became indiscernible to minutes.

Fog started rolling in. Christ, I was surely dying. Though I felt the fog around me take a grip on my body, fluffy like a cloud. Am I imagining this?

The cloud carried me out through the miraculously undamaged door of the cafe.

“Don't worry kid. You'll be safe. Shit, that cocky fucker really did it this time.” A soft male voice shook my mind awake. My brain unconsciously catalogued: Fog Thing, B-Class support hero.

“You won't get away this time!” Cried a gallant voice belonging to a yellow and black figure floating in the air, with blue electricity crackling around him. Electri-City, A-Class superhero, used electromagnetic energy to fly.

“Holy shit! You're insane! Did you see where that bus went?!” shouted a hulking man carrying a duffel bag, his voice muffled by a black ski mask over his face.

“Zip it, you villainous scum. Your existence is a black mark on humankind!” Electri-City called out, making sure as many people could hear him as possible. He then began waving his hands close together, generating an electric beam that caused the lights in buildings nearby to visibly flicker before turning off entirely.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. If that disabled the radio system, then the ambulances might not come.” the masked man muttered. My vision blurred again. I could see the faint silhouette of highrise buildings while looking up again. The pain didn't feel so bad now.