Hello, everyone, my name is JJ, and I will be your narrator for whatever time you spend reading my story of how I came to dominate the Super’s world as both Hero and Villain.

My story is unique in that I got as many chances to succeed or to screw up as I liked. Most Supers would have to die to be reborn, then to live their new lives as they saw fit, to the final end of their final death. No rerolls of the dice, no third chance and no save & reload option. But in return, they got sometimes really cool and flash superpowers, sometimes highly useful but shadowy abilities. Sometimes it is advanced knowledge or the ability to defy the laws of physics altogether and do some really nice shit.

But for me, things went a little bit differently. I don’t know what set me apart from everyone else, or if it is the case of simply being a lucky winner. Sometimes the answer to the question ‘Why me?’ isn’t that you are special, that you are descended from an ancient and powerful bloodline, or that it is your destiny, sometimes the answer is that someone up there went ‘Ip dip dog shit, fucking bastard, silly git, you are it, sucker’. It’s not glamorous or momentous or awe-inspiring, sometimes it is just luck, or maybe misfortune depending on your outlook and personal preferences.

Let me explain how the average super experience usually goes, according to various independent sources, namely the supers themselves who have come forward for fame and prestige:

Option A – Every single mortal in existence has a one-in-a-million chance, or 0.0001% chance of becoming a super. But there is a catch. You have to die first. And I mean really die, not be dead for two minutes, and then get resuscitated. You have to be dead-dead, like three days holy resurrection dead. But there is more. Your body cannot be discovered for your entire sojourn to the lands of the beyond.

There was this one kid, who later came forward to tell his story, who said that he had killed himself and that no-one had noticed that he had hung himself in his bedroom, not even his parents as they had been away at a work conference. He hadn’t killed himself hoping to become a Super, but because he couldn’t take living anymore. When he awoke and later discovered the nature of his powers, a mental/mind healer, he described it as a penance for his actions.

You see, something happens in the lands of the beyond; the Supers describe it as a conversation with the gods, and yes that is the plural, not the singular. They don’t remember what is said, just the general outcome. Like they are meant to bring hope and betterment to mankind, or they are meant to bring conflict and progress. Not every Villain is Evil. Not every Hero is Good.

Then you come back, and you can feel inside of you a change, a source of power. And when you access this power, an aura encompasses you, giving you a new identity, a Super identity. Nobody can recognise you. You even get the opportunity during your first transition to choose your new Super-name, or you can let Chance choose for you.

Let me give you an example. If your mother became a Super, in her civilian identity, you would recognise her as your mother. But when she access’s the power inside of her, taps into her aura, suddenly she becomes a new person. When you now look at her, you don’t see your mum anymore. You see a Super, and you know her Super name. You know her identity as a Super.

But there is a catch. The time of the transition is different for each Super. Some can grasp and release their aura with seconds, the fastest on record being 32 seconds. But for others this process can take up to a day for it to complete. But therein lies the danger. Whilst in this transition state, the Super cannot access their powers, and if an individual witnesses this change, they will forever after be able to link the Super’s identity to their civilian identity.

But luckily for the Supers, this is a conscious process. You can’t just knock a Super out and watch the change happen automatically to learn their secret identity.

Or there is Option B, which is my story.

I was a 23 year old Nursery teacher, living in the town of Baylington, just outside the village of Rock-Side, in the South-East of England, just on the coast. A good ole Brit, and true to my heritage, I am a big fan of tea. Especially weird stinky tea as my mum likes to call them. My favourite at that time being Black Liquorice Tea. Yum.

I lived at home with my mum and little sister. My dad had passed on just as my sister Charlotte, or Little Terror as I like to call her, reached her first birthday. It wasn’t unexpected, having lived with a brain tumour for the last five years. It was a big surprise that he had lasted that long, the doctors having given him a diagnosis of 1-2 years, at the most. But he was a man of strong will. He was My hero, but I only came to realisation after he had died. Before, he was just my Dad. He loved me, and I loved him, and that was it. We had some rough times, some good times and some truly great times.

But all good things must come to an end as they say. After he had passed, I came to realise, as I think most people who have lost their parents, just how well he had lived his life. At the end, he told me that he only had a few regrets, but that ever since he had met my mum and had me and my sister, that he had never been happier, nor more proud.

My mum works as a software engineer, 45 years old, and my sister has just celebrated her fifth birthday. We had friends, family and memories. We had a home. We loved each other. And I particularly enjoyed teaching my very little sister some very bad habits as well as some truly disgusting words. Like; Poo and Ding-Dong and Shit.

We weren’t superstars, nor celebrities, nor were we the pillars of our community. We were ordinary, and as I look back, being ordinary is Perfect. Being ordinary is much more preferable to being Venerated or Celebrated or Outstanding. And that is because no matter how far you rise, no matter if you become the greatest Hero in the history of civilisation, eventually everyone wants to see you fall. It not a matter of Them being malicious, but news is only interesting and watched because bad news is good news. Try watching a story about a puppy being rescued from an abusive owner, then watch a story about a puppy being killed by an abusive owner. Which one would you continue to watch the news coverage of, and which would you switch channels if the story aired for more than a few minutes.

Schadenfreude, the enjoyment or happiness of other people’s pain and misfortune. Basic human psychology.

And that being the case, you should be happy to hear that I inherited the male family curse. It happens every generation. The curse being an inoperable brain aneurysm. A ticking time bomb just waiting to go off at any time. The doctors can’t work out why it happens, nor when it will go off. My grandfather had it, and he died of old age before his exploded. It was only thanks to modern Super invented medicine technology that detected the defect in my grandfather. Otherwise it would just remain an ancient curse from an ancient witch from an ancient feud some-time in the past.

But for me, it happened one Tuesday afternoon. I was sitting at my computer in my bedroom, playing some game that I can no longer remember the name of. It was three o’clock in the afternoon, my shift at the nursey having ended at twelve, my sister with my mum as she had a dentist appoint at four. Mum had picked her up from primary school at 3 and taken her to her work ready to leave. Luckily her employers are pretty flexible in regard to children.

I had tried once or twice to take my sister, but each time she made a hell of a fuss when the dentist tried to look inside her mouth. With me, the Little Terror was terrified of the dentist. But with mum, she was as good as gold. I think it’s because of the old mother’s trick of their ability to guilt their children in behaving, or somehow saying their children’s three names in a tone of absolute command.

But like I was saying, I was at my computer, when the worst thing happened. I died. No warning, no blood suddenly spurting out to at least give me some grace time to come to terms with my end. Oh well, at least it was quick. Hopefully I didn’t make too much of a mess. And hopefully my sister won’t be the first to find me, knowing better than to come into my room, having learnt the hard way from practical pranks. Negative reinforcement is the key.

Moving On. Literally.

For me, I don’t remember a light, or darkness, like some people describe after being revived, or like the Supers sometimes recall. My experience can best be likened to being knocked unconscious from a general anaesthetic from going into surgery. One moment you are in a gurney, in a gown, being rolled into a prep room, with a doctor saying ‘Count down from ten’. Then the next moment, you are awake in a hospital bed, in a ward and the surgery is now over. Nothing in between.

I died, then I suddenly found myself in a white room, or maybe space would be better word. I wasn’t standing or anything, but neither was I floating. My feet were flat like I was standing, but I couldn’t feel anything underfoot. I likened it to a state of ‘Character Creation’ in a videogame. They are just standing there in mid-air, floating, but not.

Then details start to coalesce. This time, I think the change happened so slowly, that at no point could I say that at that second there was just white space, then next there were wooden walls, like in a private library. Like a plant that flowers. Or a child that grows. The change is constantly happening, that only by staying away for a time then coming back will you notice how it has grown.

And for me, first I was standing/floating in this white space, clothed in light, the next, I was seated at a table, long, like a high table in a noble’s mansion. On one side there was me, sitting in a very comfortable wood high-backed chair with ample padding, and across from me, were creatures of some sort. But they were changing every second. They appeared to be human in proportion and anatomy, but their bodies kept of changing. I once saw a film about a man wearing a camouflaging body suit, which kept up a random generation of facial features to obscure their identity, as they were an undercover cop. It was like that, but their whole bodies kept changing from one complete set, to another.

I know that we talked for a very long time, but I can’t recall what we talked about. It feels to this day, like we discussed matters both important and mundane, interesting and completely irrelevant to what was happening to me. But I do know that for some reason, they had selected me to become one of the Supers, but in a very different manner than the standard. I was to be the first of something new, but the only one, to only be succeeded by another when I choose to resign my commission, to select another to take my place.

I wasn’t given a mission or a purpose to fulfil. I had no destiny nor a divine mandate. I was only given a small but vital piece of knowledge.

Peace is the enemy of mankind!

It is only through conflict and strife can mankind give itself purpose. It must face challenges to grow. To reach, to strive. The century long peace the world had arrived at had spelled the doom and end of humanity.

The beings sitting across from me weren’t gods or divine beings, but more like guardians or sentinels or overseers. They had been given a responsibility to help humanity reach a pinnacle in its development. That the strife created by Supers weren’t enough in and of themselves. They were just a catalyst. Next, they needed to throw in a single element of chaos. Heroes and Villains, although natural opponents, were still find too much a state of balance. The scales needed to be tipped one way more, but no so much that it could never right itself. They needed a variable that could grow powerful enough to tilt that balance one way, but also be able to tip it the other. To never let balance truly arise.

To convince me, they showed me what was happening in our time of peace. War and conflict is a self-propagating process. Peace is an enforced state. Think of it like atoms vibrating. They vibrate enough, sustain enough energy, they produce heat and fire. It brings life and creation and destruction and change and evolution. War and conflict brings progress. But if those atoms lose their energy and settle into a state of stillness, they bring a state of cold, of absolute order, of stasis and so of death. This was our world peace. Of a state of eventual extinction.

Of course, it is a lot more complicated than that, but that is what the beings across from me foresaw. A state of absolute zero.

And so, I accepted their offer to go back.

And they said that when I woke up, I would be given some information of my condition.

Wait…

What condition?

When I eventually woke up, I was in an entirely different environment than the one that I died in.

Where I had died was in my home, where I felt safe and comfortable, the place I awoke in was very much the opposite.

For starters, I was slumped out on a couch of indeterminate colour, with a syringe sticking out of my left arm. The room I was in was some kind of disused apartment of other similar kind of building, with walls all around me, an empty doorway, minus the door, and graffiti on very available surface.

There were no windows to speak off, just a small hole poking through to the outside, letting in a meagre amount of starlight. And sitting next to me was another guy. He was blackish coloured, but with a lot of cream mixed in. With his mouth hanging open, I could see more than a few rotting or missing teeth, with his sleeve also rolled up, but without a syringe of his own.

Looking around, I spotted it a laying in between his feet.

Absolutely fucking great. I’ve woken in a drug den, probably jacked full of some unknown shit, but as far as my limited knowledge goes, probably heroin. This was not the deal I signed up for. I was supposed to come back, with some knowledge of some really cool superpower that I have been granted, with the choice of which side I would like to play for. Presumably.

And here I am, possibly with a nasty drug addictions, no idea where I am, and apparently who I am, as the meat bag that I am currently wearing is not even a close resemblance to the old me. And I know this because these arms are rail thin, probably due to malnourishment, and that this guy is way taller than I am, even laying down. He’s got like Daddy Long Legs legs, they just don’t seem to end. Hopefully I haven’t got a tiny body and a tiny head, I would look bloody ridiculous.

Come on guys, you promised me some information on my ‘Fucking Condition!’

Welcome, User, to your new life. You have been granted the power of : Reincarnation

Due to the special properties of your new power, you will be given information on current abilities. Further information will be provided on an ad hoc basis.

Reincarnation : When the user body dies, the soul, memories, stats, abilities and other data are transferred to a new uninhabited, recently deceased vessel. Stats are reduced to 10% of total value and added to base levels. On rebirth, user is granted to right to rename itself and assign experience points on upgrades. This process cannot be interrupted nor interfered with.

To access your status screen, visualise yourself in data form whilst mentally calling ‘Open Status’. Please do so now.

Well, that was certainly some information, and surprisingly helpful due to its shortness. Doing as I am instructed, I close myself, and do my best to think of myself as a game character, with clearly delineated statistics for my body and abilities. Then calling out softly to the open air “Open Status”. I know that it said mentally, but I felt a bit silly just standing there. Anyhow, it worked:

Name Please Select Strength 1 Race Please Select Endurance 1 Gender Male Dexterity 1 Age 28 Agility 1 Alignment Please Select Intelligence 1 Guild N/A Wisdom 1 Base Attributes 1 Charisma 1 Titles N/A Luck 1 Level 1 Mental Fortitude 100 Experience N/A Character Points 0 Skills Magic Communication Locked

Please select a New Name.

Requirements : Format must be in the style of ‘First Name’, ‘Nickname’, ‘Surname’.

Names chosen must not be repeated from previous incarnations, including original starting Life.

Well, that sure got interesting fast. New name, new name. What to call myself. Presumably, I could go by any of those three names, but that is saying that I don’t have a Hero or Villain identity. I should be asked for a Supername. Not a normal, nick, name. Odd. Oh well, time to decide.

Looking around, I couldn’t see anything to confirm my new found thoughts, but I did somehow know that time was now standing still for me. Maybe it was the fact that I couldn’t move, or the dust motes in the air were just hovering there, beautiful in their simplicity.

Looks like I have all the time in the world. No pressure. Thinking it through, I had to come up with something that both allowed me to tell people ‘Hello, my name is Bone, Jim Bone, but you can called me Kettle.’ Something both normal and easy to use, but also epic, and defining. It would be both my identity and my title.

Spending about what seemed like 30 minutes or so of coming up and discarding random and various names, I finally get bored. So I decided to go with my first choice. Hopefully I don’t come to regret it.

“I Choose : Michael Dude Haysmith.”

Choice Accepted.

New Name : Michael Haysmith

Codename : Dude

Epic.

Name Michael 'Dude' Haysmith Strength 1 Race Please Select Endurance 1 Gender Male Dexterity 1 Age 28 Agility 1 Alignment Please Select Intelligence 1 Guild N/A Wisdom 1 Base Attributes 1 Charisma 1 Titles N/A Luck 1 Level 1 Mental Fortitude 100 Experience N/A Character Points 0 Skills Magic Communication Locked

Please choose your default race : -

Choice Locked : -

Human : Humans are one of the most short lived races. They have almost no natural aptitude for magic, but do have a huge aptitude for most skills.

Humans gain Attribute points on level up across all stats. Cannot customize point allocation.

Humans cannot access spellbooks until further evolutions are unlocked.

Humans are granted the Psionic Spell Tree. On completion of spell tree, possible rank-up is possible to Jedi class

Humans gain 1,000 Character Points Per Character Level. Attention : Characters Points are normally earned for special actions. Humans gain consistent points at the expense of events.

Choice Accepted.

New Race : Human

Name Michael 'Dude' Haysmith Strength 1 Race Human Endurance 1 Gender Male Dexterity 1 Age 28 Agility 1 Alignment Please Select Intelligence 1 Guild N/A Wisdom 1 Base Attributes 1 Charisma 1 Titles N/A Luck 1 Level 1 Mental Fortitude 100 Experience N/A Character Points 0 Skills Magic Communication Locked

Well, nuts. Could be worse though. Imagine if I was forced to be a goblin, or the gods forbid, a Fairy. I don’t want to spend this new life being ‘Cute’.

Even so, having access to a psionic spell school sounds really cool. Levitating shit, taking over peoples mind, enforcing my will on the world. Nice. Although healing is so going to be a bitch though. Never seen a psionic skill that could heal, although this is a first for me, so what do I know.

And talk about becoming a Jedi. Lightsabers and force powers. I think my hands are trembling slightly with excitement.

I wonder what’s next.

Please select which super side you would wish to take.

Choice A – Super Hero : Heroes believe in the system that stands. They fight for the common good and fight for others. They stand to protect the status quo, although they have been known to root out and destroy corruption. Others wish to rise high in the current regimes ranks. Be aware, not all Heroes are Good.

If you choose this option, you will be given co-ordinates to the closest hero training facility

(Attention – Critical Warning : High chance of order instability. Current Hero Ratio : 72 %)

Choice B – Super Villain – Villains believe in themselves, whether they believe that they alone hold to key to freedom and true leadership, or if they are out for their own selfish ends. Villains tend to overthrow the current status quo to install their own versions of leadership. Be aware, not all villains are Evil.

If you choose this option, you will be given co-ordinates to the closest trainer who can introduce you to the underworld.

(Attention – Critical Warning : High chance of regaining stability and balance. Current Villain Ratio : 28%)

Attention : Further experience may unlock additional super sides

Please make a choice :

Choice A – Superheroes

Choice B – Supervillains

Balls, I was so hoping to go the hero route first. I mean, who doesn’t want to be famous and to save the day, battle the evil villains and to get the girl at the end of the day. Not to mention that it would be so much easier to view the world in shades on black and white, us vs them. Good vs evil.

I mean, what is the worst that can really happen if we did achieve world peace once again? Why not become a Hero and bring peace and prosperity for all human kind?

Shit, why did I just think that?

Suddenly a vision hits me front a center:

Humanity is celebrating as a race, not just as a bunch of nations. Finally, the heroes have vanquished the villains, bringing an end to their violence and depravities. Finally, people can rest easy, mourn their loved ones who are longer with us all. Finally, we can usher in a new golden age that will last till the end of time.

The Heroes will stand as sentinels and as guardians, helping to bring the fractured nations of the Earth together, to help us heal our broken identities, to help us see the commonalities that we all hold, to forget ancient grudges, to suppress those who only desire power for their own sakes.

The Heroes will help bring advancements in social infrastructure, advancements in medicine and technologies, to bring the standard of living up for all mankind, so that everyone may stand on equal footing.

Children will be treated as the Heroes of the future, our hope of a continuing better world. They will be given the opportunities and support to seek an educations, a vocation, a chance to pursue their life’s dream. No child will be left behind. No child will ever have to live in fear.

The world in finally united as one.

Aggression is weeded and cured. All illnesses are a thing of the past, whether they be physical, mental or emotional. Our world is finally fixed, all pollution is eliminated, all of the wrongs are righted. We no longer need to hunt to extinctions all the animal and plant life that our glorious planet offers us.

We stabilize our over-population epidemic. All children are raised as a community, parents are a thing of the past, but rather all adults are seen as mothers and fathers. We develop a drug which halts the sperm and egg production in all males and females. Humans can no longer populate our planet naturally anymore. They are now grown inside artificial wombs, controlled to birth at acceptable rates, eliminating any and all birth defects, born perfect and whole.

Slowly but surely, over the decades, we rein in our population to a gentle and consistent 2.5 billion humans.

Over the next three centuries, humanity settles into a utopian of life. Forests are finally repopulated and healthy once more. An abundance of wildlife is allowed to flourish, where animals are no longer afraid of humans.

Cities arise where learning is the highest calling, science flourishes, and spiritualism is the mainstay for a healthy mind and wellbeing. Harmony is achieved in all things.

Violence is now a thing of myth, relegated to the history archives. It has finally been cured.

Centuries turn into millennium, and still the golden age lives on.

But one day, there comes an epidemic not seen in all of human history. People are starting to lose interest in life. They are not eating, barely sleeping and unable to move. The scientists are looking for a cause, but the plague is moving and infecting too fast for them to catch up. People are finally dying, wasting away into bones, malnourished to the point where their bodies can longer sustain their life spark.

Thousands are dying per day.

And the rate is slowly increasing.

Fifteen years pass, and after millions upon millions of deaths, scientists have found the cause. A simple parasite. A piece of life which is so small, and now so rare, that it took all of this time for the scientists to think to look for them. They were thought to be extinct, but it turns out they just evolved to become something else.

They became symbiotic. They were so close to being wiped out in humanities advancements in the medical fields, but a few survived and adapted. They fed upon humanity, using us to sustain them. But in return, they gave us increased longevity. Old age was not a burden, but just a numerical value for how long someone had lived. A measure until they finally expired. We aged to middle age, and stayed there till our final days, because of these symbiotic parasites. We thought we had evolved. We were wrong.

It took decades for them to spread to the breeding facilities, to infect those who grew the embryos, then they were passed onto every single human being from then one.

But although to helped us, improved us, gave us health and longevity, they never quite stopped evolving.

Till one day they moved to a nirvana for their species of life. The human brain, full of chemicals and brain matter. They started to gorge themselves, to the point where they started to kill their human hosts. But by this point it was too late. They had evolved to become almost indistinguishable from the human host, to have invaded to the center of the human brain.

The scientist worked tirelessly on a cure, but a new problem was growing unnoticed. The parasites had not stopped evolving. Over those fifteen years it took to find them, they had found true ambrosia for their kind. The chemical that had become integral to the human system. The drug the suppressed the rage and violence of humans. The parasites started to feed upon this drug, and they feasted upon the unnaturally produced serotonin. Humans started to lose their minds in fits of rage and destruction. They started to kill. They became less than animals, more like furies, incarnations of rage and death and destruction.

The rest of human kind not yet afflicted with this terrible curse didn’t know how to react, they didn’t know what to do. They had a lifetime of not having any aggressive or violent urges. A lifetime of pacifism. A lifetime to learn how to become prey.

The affliction grew, the infected killing, before their parasites killed them in turn. The wave of death flooded the world without end. Till the very end, where the last of the humans died ignoble deaths, alone, and in pain, and in rage.

Dozens of other visions were given to me, one after the other, or at the same time maybe. The downfall of humanity. The one consistent piece being humanities inability to evolve or to adapt any longer, for they longer needed to.

You alone get to decide the fate of humanity. Although balance may be achieved naturally once more, you are being given the opportunity to make sure that these scenarios never occur.

So you may now choose.

Choose balance, or let fate take its course.

Well, take isn’t heavy or anything. No pressure. I could follow my own selfish desires to become the Hero, but at what cost? The messages are implying that it could work out despite my choices, but how, if I was ever given the chance once more, could I look my Dad in the eye, and tell him that I put myself above the fate of humanity?

Choice Accepted : Super Villain set.

Please follow the green trail to your instructor.

Name Michael 'Dude' Haysmith Strength 1 Race Please Select Endurance 1 Gender Male Dexterity 1 Age 28 Agility 1 Alignment Villainous Intelligence 1 Guild N/A Wisdom 1 Base Attributes 1 Charisma 1 Titles N/A Luck 1 Level 1 Mental Fortitude 100 Experience N/A Character Points 0 Skills Magic Communication Locked

I was expecting for time to starting moving again at that point, but I still couldn’t move.

Initial parameters confirmed.

Tutorial Initiated.

Tutorial finalized.

Time restarted.

Good Luck, Dude.

A flood of information rockets into my head. Information of how use my new interface, on how to call up the menus, how to level up, how to progress. Finally, weirdly enough, I was given a phone number; 058-698-7123.

Apparently this number is my own personal ID that if I give it to anybody else, they can call me on the phone that is installed in my head. Well, status screen, but presumably the status screen is in my head… whatever, they can call me, I can call them, without the pesky need to actually purchase a phone.

I mentally click on the skill tab on the bottom, but it just brings up a blank screen. Looks like I haven’t earned any skills yet. Moving to the next tab, Magic, brings up some cool information.

Psionic Ability : Telekinesis

Cost : 30 MP per minute

Range : 50 ft

Cooldown : Instant

Level : 1 of 10 (0%)

Defining Attributes : WIS, DEX, AGI

Able to move objects with willpower alone. Willpower defines weight, dexterity defines fine control, agility defines speed object is able to be moved at per foot. Level 5 will unlock a new ability.

Nice. Level up some more, get bigger stats, then sneak around stealing shit and shanking people from afar, maybe even pulls the pants down on my enemies for a laugh mid battle. So many possibilities, I can’t wait to get started.

But I have some more to cover, need to get time started once more a make a move.

Selecting communications, my last tab, seeing as yet, hopefully, that I can’t access the locked tab, I come across another blank screen. This time, though, it has yet more tabs, this time across the top, labeled; contacts, logs, texts and finally location. The first three were as you would suspect, but the location tab was very interesting. It showed like a map, but covered in the fog of war, except in the center which showed me, in a room, with the details I had previously observed. I just hope that’s it’s, and that some hacker can’t track my every movement, or worse, hack me. And in big bold letters across the top but below the tabs, the name of the city is displayed; New York City, New York. Bugger.

Closing the status screen mentally, I review some of more of information I was imparted.

I can only increase my attribute points by leveling up and by special events only. Working out and exercising won’t increase my strength or agility or dexterity, nor will studying increase my intelligence or wisdom, nor betting big in casinos increase my luck. Rather they will allow me to better understand what I am capable of. Lifting weights will tell my how strong I am, treadmills will tell me how fast I can run, betting will tell me how lucky I am. Hitting on women in a bar will tell me how attractive my charisma makes me.

And there are only three main ways of levelling; killing, loot (or stealing) and increasing my skills and that at certain level milestones, I will unlock certain preset goodies. Also there may be other ways to increase my levels, but I have to find those with experience.

At you may have noticed that one piece of information has been left till last. Saving the best. Inventory. I have been granted probably to most awesome and maybe versatile of my new abilities. I can access my personal pocket dimension by simply thrusting my hand into an imagined tear in the fabric of space and into my inventory. It is more a mental process rather than physical, as I technically don’t need to move my hand, but I feels a bit weird not to. Maybe in time.

When I reached in, I knew what my inventory contained, which wasn’t very much at all. Just ID, with my new name ‘Michael Haysmith’ and with a microchip with my details contained inside of it. These ID’s were adopted about 5-6 years ago by most of the western countries, including good ole England. The chips contained my DNA sequence, personal information, fingerprints, and was an all-in-one ID for all of my needs. It was my driving licence, library card, medical records, police record, all of the life digital data is stored on my ID card.

Depending on the scanners, different information can be pulled from the card. For example, if I went to a library to search for a digital or hardcopy book to take home, their scanners could read all the information pertaining to my reading and checkout history, but not anything else. For the police, though, they could pull almost all of the information they wanted from my card, except for my medical records, except maybe for any imminent or life-threatening information, like I have a diabetes, but not that I went to a clinic to get checked for gonorrhea.

Just in case you are wondering how this data is protected, well, all humans are now placed with a special tag in their systems, which links up with the cards microchip. If the card is taken out of my range, about 25 feet or so, the card in disabled, my phone gets an automatic notification with GPS co-ordinates of where the card is located, and if the police should be alerted that it has been stolen. The system is not perfect, they are flaws and work arounds, but generally, your data is extremely secure.

And I have given you this info dump, for one very good reason. Except for my name displayed and a photograph, I can’t access any information that the chip might contain. So I have no idea what the authorities will find on the card when they have a look. And depending on what info is on the card and what info is missing, I could be royally screwed.

Back to my inventory, it currently operates by very simple rules. I can store 100kg of weight per point of strength I have, and only items of up to one foot in diameter can be stored in the dimension. When I access my inventory, I know exactly what is in there and can get anything in or out with but a thought. And that leads to some very lucrative ideas for some thieving work.

Just imagine it, I can walk into a high tech superstore, grab some expensive hardware, place in inside of a shopping bag but really put it in my inventory. Even if the store cops, or reals cops try to arrest me for shop lifting, viola, no items stolen and they can’t prove a thing. The possibilities are endless. What need have I for money? Well maybe I need it for rent, for internet and online shopping, and my kindle (yes, we still have those) and for anything else I can’t steal.

That is gonna be one of the kinks I am going to have to sort out. Bridge, later.

It is about an hour later, and I have made my way into downtown, or so I believe. The empire state building is currently undergoing repairs, after that Super showdown last week. That fight cost more than a few people their lives, and not to mention the horrific economic costs involved. But this time, or so the news sites reported, new materials are being integrated with the repairs, so it will be more durable to any more Super fights. Honestly, I am surprised that it hadn’t happened sooner.

Hopefully, whilst the building will be restored to its former beauty, it won’t be as fragile.

A few blocks back I had stopped inside a clothing store, but I don’t remember its name. And I stopped not only to steal some shit (I did though) but to look in the mirror to get a handle on my new appearance. And I can tell you, I am not impressed. Some ultra-white, blond haired, green eyes gangly little twerp. This is my new body. And with a stupidly scruffy beard to boot. But at least I am now skinny. Turns out that I am size 30, 6”1’ tall, about 100 pounds, but with longer fingers, more like pianists fingers rather than short fat sausages.

Once I take a look at myself, I quickly rounded up some clothes; some long-sleeved shirts, a couple pairs of jeans, three different pairs of boots roughly my shoe size (Size 10, so that is still the same at least), two very different jackets, and a pair of sunglasses (turns out that I have perfect eye-sight, or at least very much improved eye-sight).

I took them all into the changing rooms, much to the raised eyebrows of the attendant. I can imagine that he is seriously wondering if I can afford any single item that I have taken in with me. And that is because what I was wearing looked like shit. Not covered in shit, but maybe a few smudges of the brown stuff. I don’t think I smelled, and I definitely looked like I belonged in the lower strata of society. And whilst the store I had entered wasn’t of the high class, super-duper rich type, it was still way outside of my current budget. But the attendant couldn’t have known that for sure, so he just politely handed me a token with chip embedded inside of it, with a holographic image of what I was wearing when I entered the changing rooms. An anti-theft device, so that I don’t try to walk out with some I was carrying in.

Once I had entered past the privacy curtain, I saw a line of stalls with doors, about six or seven of them in total, and a large rotunda at the very end, with a sign saying to leave all clothes on the bars or any items that are unwanted, as other attendants will put them back in their correct places. Any items I do want to take, I simply bring with me to the attendant outside, he will swipe my ID card, and the charge will be registered, where the money will be immediately transferred.

So course, I cheated. As soon as I entered one of the empty stalls, I hung up the clothes on the bar provided, placed the shoes and sunglasses on the shelf and shucked myself of the shitty clothes I was born into.

Trying on the different articles of clothing, it turns out that only one of the pairs of the jeans fit me. And I don’t like one of the jackets after all. The shirts all fit me fine, and so too do the boots. So I stuff, or should I say, gently placed the desired clothing inside my inventory, as well as the sunglasses. Taking the undesirables to the return rotunda, I make my way to the exit.

As I pass through the curtain, I hand my chit back to the attendant, who slides the disk into a pillar just behind himself. Waving me through past the scanner, he eyes me like he is expecting the alarms to go off and for me to start legging it, with him hoping to be the valiant hero who rugby tackles me to the ground. And I watch the disappointment light up in his entire bearing as I make it to the other side without a hint of blaring sirens.

He then turns a glare on me and says, “Have to good day, sir,” but doesn’t mention the ‘Come back soon’ that I had heard him declare proudly to other customers who had exited the changing rooms previously to me.

Deciding that it probably better to exit the store now rather than take the chance that the nice man by the booths will kick up a fuss if I try to enter the stalls again with another intake of clothes and exit empty handed. Whilst the store is quite big, there are lots of cameras around, and I don’t want to give away my secret this early on.

Exiting the store, I continued down the street till I came to one of many alleys that honeycomb New York City. Diving down the first alley, I spot a trash dumpster, which I take refuge behind in preparation for my clothes switcharoo. But I get a surprise when I reach into my inventory. A tutorial of information pops into my head, leaving me reeling back. I crash down onto the pavement, and lightly smack my head against the big stupid metal thingy. What’s it called again? Don’t care, it hurt me so it doesn’t get a name right now. Fucking informational download. What’s wrong with some text I can read at my own pace, like before, when has this suddenly changed into a rollercoaster with a huge hammer at the end ready to pound itself into my brain?

Anyway, the information I got was quite interest. Apparently, when I reach into my inventory for items like clothing or weaponry, I can choose to equip them, meaning that I don’t have to strip down and expose my glory to the world. Instead, my power will do a superman in the phone booth type thing. It will cause a shimmer affect around my body and switch out the items I currently either hold or am wearing, and change them for the desired items. Again, I have to do it out of sight, the shimmer will give away that I am no longer normal. It might only two one to two seconds, but that is still more than enough time for someone to notice.

Choosing the equip option, suddenly I am wearing black boots that wrap around my ankle, perfectly tightened for a secure grip but not cutting off my circulation. Next I am wearing a deep navy blue pair of jeans, sans belt, with a deep blue shirt with a herringbone pattern, a black leather jacket and sunglasses. Now I look nice.

Exiting the alley, I continue down to my trainer’s destination, visiting a few other shops along the way, this time receiving a much nicer welcome now that I look like I can afford the clothes on sale. Stealing a few more pairs of trousers, shirts, jackets, sunglasses, and finally, clean underwear. God, I think the last occupant liked to sit in his own shit. Filthy bastard. I must have filled up a substantial amount of my inventory space, as I could feel this weight push down on me, and my walking speed had dropped a bit. I was making good headway before, but now I could actually feel some drag, like I was pulling along a buggy.

Hopefully soon I can increase my levels and sort out this weight problem. But for now, I had finally arrived at a restaurant called ‘Gally’s’. Inside, through the glass windows, I could see a few of the tables were occupied but not overly so. Looks like it might pick up later though.

Walking through the front doors, I walk up to the hostess, who is a gorgeous brunette with a smoking waitress outfit, and ask, “Hello, I am here to see Joe. Nathaniel told me that he could help me re-design my garden. Could you please show me where he is sitting, please?” That done, I have completed the task given to me with the ridiculous code phrase and everything.

The waitress, whose name tag reads ‘Tiffany’, gives me a strange look, then her entire face brightens up, and replying in a lovely light and joyful voice, “Okay, sir, if you would like to come this way, I can show you to a table, and I will tell Mr Joe. That you have arrived. He might be a few minutes, his is just finishing up some… business.”

“Okay then, lead on.”

Tiffany then turns around presenting a fine piece of ass to my eyes, which she knows that my eyes are glued to, as she turns her head just as I dropped mine. Giving me a smile with a twinkle in them, she leads me to one of the booths at the far end of the restaurant, and place me with my back facing the staff kitchen door and my head towards the entrance. When she walks away, my eyes stayed glued to her gluteus.

Then about a minute later, whilst still ogling her, I feel something pressed into the back of my head. Although in England I had never come across a handgun, nor even felt one, I could still recognise one as it was pressing really hard against the back on my neck.

“That’s my wife you’re drooling over. Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you right now. You have ten seconds.”

Ooops.