"Damn you."

"Damn me all you want, kid, you're giving me your stuff. Come on, now, hand it over."

This guy's got some kind of physics-distorting power. I can't quite understand what I'm seeing, but it looks like I'm in a mobius strip. This sucks so much.

At least he just wants to take my stuff. I don't think I can fight him. Don't go thinking I'm not scared, I absolutely am. I'm about to soil myself. I just know for a fact that I won't be harmed if I don't disobey, so I give him my backpack and wallet.

Then I decide to do something stupid. I can't afford to lose my things, so I'll beat him over the head when he's not looking.

He just walks past me, all smug and self-important. God, I really can't stand these people. I like to call myself a coward, because I am. I get pushed around by everyone all the time and don't have the nuts to fight back. I'm so damn scared. But you know what's more prevalent these days?

Frustration.

Why do I have to deal with you lot all the time? Can't I go a single day without some stupid shit happening to me? Every time I draw a breath, some guy with more ego than IQ decides to treat me like a bench and sit on me. I'M NOT A MASOCHIST! I don't like it! I'll treat you like a bitch, see how you like it!

I turn around, deploy a clone and take a swing at his head. It nails him, right in the ear. Feels like I punched a brick wall. Also, this is the first time I've ever hit someone.

My flimsy punch had no effect. Nonetheless, I have my clone hit him too, as hard as it can. He catches it. He catches it like nothing, and throws the whole guy behind him like an empty soda can. His other hand wraps around my throat before I can even notice.

"Oh, we've got a wannabe hero here, do we? Well, look how useless that effort of yours was. Seriously, do any of you stupid little teenage losers realize that the Mikon Effect exists?"

The Mikon Effect is the name given to a situation where someone without powers does something only someone with a power can do. It's also basically the big name smashed onto the fact that, ever since powers became a thing, the limits of humanity increased by such an amount that records are still being broken everyday. To put it simply, this is the explanation we gave to regular people beating those with superstrength in arm wrestling.

"Eh, who cares. Not like you would've stood a chance against anyone anyway. Pretty cool power though. Clones are always cool. Shame I have to kill you now."

I would protest, but I am lacking airflow at the moment. I'm not lacking in observational skill, however. The clone who was thrown away managed to land somewhat properly, and as such, is still alive.

"HELP ME! CALL THE POLICE! CALL A HERO! SOMEONE!"

"What? The other you is still there! You just decided to call for help then, huh? Alright, you just gave yourself a worse fate. Witness."

Making sure I could see, he turned his other hand towards my clone and something shredded it to bits in such a short amount of time I could feel it. It disappeared in about a second and this much extra damage was inflicted. Good thing I don't share pain with them, otherwise I would've had trouble staying conscious.

"I'm gonna take you with me, and I'm gonna make sure that every little thing I just did to your tool there happens to you."

"No you won't!"

My saving grace, a hero came down from the sky and smashed right into the masked man. Looks like I won't be going home in a coffin today. He drops me, having been caught by surprise, and starts trying to put up a decent fight. Damn psychics, I can feel the aftershocks of their minds beating each other up.

Not wanting to squander this opportunity, I decide to bail. My feet, empowered by tremendous amounts of fear and adrenaline, want to try and imitate a cheetah. My fight or flight instincts are set on a course of action. That course was "Run the hell away, you useless weakling. Run until you're so exhausted, you can't feel your insecurities anymore."

Seriously, what was I thinking?! What is wrong with me? I've never actually made an effort to actually become heroic in my life! What am I doing with myself? I need to start over from the beginning, no more delusions! None of that anymore! If I don't even have the courage to start a conversation, what business do I have fighting crime? God, it's like I actually WANT to give everyone a reason to bully me.

I get home and crash into a heap, panting and heaving in the middle of the foyer. I almost died! I don't want to die, it's scary! What heroes? What justice? I'm not made for that! Leave it to people better than me! I don't-- I don't--

I don't want to be weak.

I don't want to see people suffer.

I can't do anything about it. It hurts to think of it. At least I got my stuff back, it's not a complete loss, but so what? All I did was let someone else fix the mistake I made and run away like some background character from a shoddy "hero" anime.

I built an image of heroes in my head, of talented individuals with strong ideals and principles, of true defenders of what is right. The quintessential good guy, really. This image, this ideal, I tried to apply to myself but neglected all the hard work and effort, the strength of mind and body, all because I got stuck on the "power" part of things! So obsessed with the illusion of bad luck that I forgot about all the actual training I would need to do.

Now I'm just a wannabe, a loser. I need to do something with myself. Either give up on the hero fantasy or somehow catch up with all those people who tried their hardest for most of their lives. I would be starting at a far further point age-wise than most heroes. If I'm to try and become a hero, then I can't do it alone. But what do I do about this? Who can I call?

Call... I could call Steve from Duplica. He wants me on, doesn't he? Yeah, that's what I'll do. He gave me his number that time, I can call him right now.

"Steve Busch speaking, who's this?"

"Uh, hello, mister Steve? It's Richard. I want to join."

"...Could you tell me one thing first? Why did you call now of all times? This seems like a bad time."

"I uh... I went through a hard situation just now, and I realized that I need to get way, way better at everything in order to become a superhero. You're the only person I know with the means to help me. I need lots and lots of training."

"Are you sure you want to join? I'm not a personal trainer, you know. I'm a manager for an established team of superheroes, professionals of a high caliber in the art of keeping the law."

"I know all that, Steve. I decided to commit. If this doesn't work out, then I have no idea what to do with my life. Please. If it's not you, I'll go find some other place who'll take me."

"Make no mistake, Richard. I want you on this team. I am fully aware of your poor physical condition and have been from the start. I just never thought you'd be the one to make the first move is all."

"Your faith in me is appreciated, though I feel it might be misplaced. So um... what now?"

"Now I give you a date, time and place. I'll send them to you by text. Come right on in and see for yourself if the team will take you."

"Oh, right. There's a team. I guess I'll see you again then. Goodbye."

"Goodbye, Richard. See you soon."