“Stand up straight, please. Arms extended; palms parallel to the ground. No— out to your sides, in a ‘T’ position. Yes, good.”

Blake grimaced as the interdiction officer stood him against the wall, his groceries on the ground next to his feet. Assigned to protect Kelton city’s eastern shopping district from power-related crimes, the thinly armored woman had pulled him aside as he’d exited the store, a hand-held device lighting up on her waist before he could pass her by.

“Look, it’s just a physical body enhancement,” he said. “Completely passive, I promise.”

The officer nodded but didn’t make to leave. Instead, she brought the scanner closer, waving it over his arms and chest before pausing to fiddle with a knob. “Full body, not just projective, correct?” She asked.

Blake sighed. “That’s right.”

“Interesting. Don’t see many of those around anymore.” The officer straightened, clipping the scanner back onto her belt. “Do you have your ID on you?”

He did, and he handed it to her-- a thick, plastic card that identified him as one, Tim Abernacky. Twenty-three years old, black hair, green eyes, five-foot-eleven, in good standing with the city of Kelton, and... a blank space where his power should’ve been written. Blake tensed as the officer frowned, and for a moment, he thought she might try to follow up on the missing information.

But then she shook her head. “Get yourself registered before the next Power Sensus. I know most of you dayworker types don’t bother, but you’re leaking energy like a sieve; no reason to get ticketed for something that’ll only take an hour of your time,” she said and handed him back his ID.

“Of course, officer.” Blake jerked his head. He waited an extra second, making sure that there was nothing else that the woman wanted to say, then picked up his bags and left, turning down the first corner of the street. As he walked, he let out the breath he’d been holding. She wouldn’t have been able to keep him. Not really. But that didn’t stop his stomach from squirming at the thought of the extra attention.

The trip home was less exciting, and Blake’s increased pace tapered off after the first couple of blocks. Foot traffic decreased as he neared The Slud – Kelton city’s river and a metaphorical dividing line between the upper and lower districts – and the half-jog he’d been doing just began to feel silly. There were still people, of course, each carrying their own bags of food and goods for the evening, but not nearly the crowd. Overhead, a pair of powered individuals flew just low enough to still see the people on the streets while still being high enough to avoid causing a disturbance. Federal supes loaned to the local police force, in all likelihood. Part of a licensed team, if not.

Regarding them, at least, Blake wasn’t concerned. Hell, with the fliers keeping their eyes out for actual issues? He was grateful for their presence. Kelton City wasn’t quite the hotpot of power conflicts that people portrayed it as, but it was a damned near thing. Where a patroller might step in to take down a flame-spitter or two, these groups stopped threats, from true-strongmen throwing cars to hydrokinetics slicing the same in half. So long as heroes kept the violence contained, he’d cheer them on from the sidelines, the same as anyone else.

Blake was still thinking about superpowers when he turned the corner to his apartment building. It was an old thing, just on the river’s edge. A faded green paint job covered the street-facing wall, while the rest had been left to weather. Surrounded by storage buildings and an ever-encroaching skyline, the apartment was one of the few genuinely affordable housing options left in the boundaries of upper Kelton. Even then, though, the slight lean the building had towards the river made light of the fact that it might not be for long.

“Hey, kid!” The man at the front desk waved as Blake walked inside. An undeviating presence behind the counter, Alfie was five-foot-nine with greying hair, a stiff set of sideburns, and an unflappable grin. One could almost swear he was having the time of his life greeting the people who came and went-- so long as they weren’t causing trouble, at least.

“Mister Alfie,” Blake greeted back. He adjusted course, setting his bags at the foot of the counter, and shook the other man’s hand.

“How’d your shopping go?” Alfie asked. “Don’t often see you getting back so late; I was starting to worry!”

“A small scare.” Blake waved him off. “One of the Patrol stopped me on my way out of the shop; the officer was running power scans and wanted me to register. Gave the spiel, then let me go. Nothing crazy.”

Alfie snorted. “Power registration. Lords know how that law got passed. Listen, if you ever need that card filled in?” He spread his pinkie and thumb, miming a phone call. “I’ll hook you up. Friends discount.”

Blake merely nodded. Alfie’s less-than-legal contacts were not unknown around the building. While he’d never had reason to use them himself – there were too many ways a minor infraction might have him spending the night in jail and then a lot longer after his scans came back -- he knew a few residents who had. ID forgeries were the most common, followed closely by low-grade power suppressants intended to ease the symptoms of an inconvenient or debilitating power.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said. “Thank you.”

“Ha! Sure thing. Be seeing you ’round, Tim!”

Blake picked up his bags, feeling a slight twinge as the older man smiled at him, before wandering his way up the stairs and into his apartment.

“Leaking like a sieve. Yeah, well, that’s one way to put it.” Blake grimaced as he looked into the bathroom mirror. The body’s decay had worsened over the last couple of weeks. A non-physical process, but decay nonetheless. He was losing his hold over Tim’s form; a mix of constant use and pre-existing deterioration had forced him to patch ever-widening holes. Keeping everything running was becoming more than he could handle.

He was going to need to drop the body. The realization was frustrating, and the more he thought about it, disappointing as well. He liked being Tim. He liked the mindset the body had brought with it and the crowd he’d fallen into.

And yet, the action was necessary. Blake closed his eyes, focusing on the small, active flicker of power in his chest, and let it drop away. His body followed suit, condensing as it twisted in on itself, and another emerged, coming to occupy the same space as the previous had. This one’s hair was blond – scruffy, almost -- with pale brown eyes, a thicker body and face, and an additional five years in age. The clothes were rougher, too, being bulky enough that he could spend a night outdoors without freezing to death in the chill.

Blake -- The real him this time, for all that such a description was misleading-- smiled thinly into the mirror. He hadn’t been himself for... for a while, now. He looked tired. Harried. Unkempt and red-eyed. And he felt worse, too; the body hormones were a complete mess. All of it was physical symptoms of how he’d been doing before he found Tim.

There was a stark difference between then and now.

Blake’s body melted away again, bringing Tim’s back to the forefront. He would keep it around for a few more days. Say his goodbyes, hand in his work notice, and gather his cash before heading down to lower Kelton. Shot in an alleyway or dead in the hospital; if he waited long enough, there’d be another body he could use.