Ashburn District, New Kinsington

  March 8th, 2025

  7:30 PM

  I sat in my new home’s kitchen, looking down at my bandaged hands. My broken finger was held firmly in a metal splint, and the rest of my hands were wrapped up like I was a mummy. The lights were still out, and the other three were up on the roof, looking at the transistors and wiring used to connect the building to the city’s power grid.

  Considering that a man who could control electricity and a woman with encyclopedic knowledge of electromagnetism hadn’t fixed the problem yet, I figured there must have been a problem with the hardware. Electrozilla must have blown some of the fuses when he drained the electricity from the building.

  Someone approached, causing the old floorboards to creak under their feet. The unknown individual stepped into the kitchen, and a man in a green combat jacket stepped into my view. He was probably in his thirties, though his blond hair had started losing its color. He walked with the self-assured confidence of a man who was accustomed to violence. I immediately figured he was either a police officer or, more likely, a professional Hero. The man was unlike Sparrow, Thunderbolt, and Europa. Something about him seemed more grounded in reality, like the world was weighing heavily down on him.

  In his hands, the man carried several large plastic bags, and the unmistakable smell of Chinese food wafted from the direction of the bags. I was suddenly reminded that I hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and my lips began to water involuntarily.

  “You’re the new guy?” the man asked as he lifted the bags onto the counter. There was enough food for nearly a dozen people in there, and I figured that food must be for the people living in the apartment.

  “Yeah,” I said, wrenching my eyes off the bags of food.

  “Kevin Avery, telekinetic?”

  I cleared my throat and spoke once more with confidence. “Yes, that’s me. It’s nice to meet you.”

  “I’m Frank,” he said, though his speech remained clipped and business-like. “Block this.”

  In a blur of motion, Frank threw something at me. The room was only lit by the streetlights outside the building, and I had no idea what he threw. As far as I could tell, they were knives or throwing stars. Instinctually, I held my hand out to shield myself.

  There was a loud crack as I felt a light resistance against my index finger. Vaguely, I was aware that two small objects struck my projected hand and bounced off harmlessly.

  “Hey! I’m not a mutant! If this is some hazing ritual, then…”

  Frank jerked his hand downward as if he was throwing something at the ground. I saw a brief flash of light near his hand, and then I felt something hit the back of my head. The sensation was barely perceptible. The object that hit me couldn’t have been bigger than a quarter.

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  “If that was a bullet, you’d be dead,” Frank said.

  “Is this how you say ‘hello’ to everybody!?” I asked sarcastically.

  “Do you plan to be a Hero, Macro-Kinetic?” the man asked, completely ignoring my question.

  I had to pause for a second. This was a city that put you in a hole under Lake Michigan with a bomb on your neck if you stepped out of line. Was I really interested in upholding that status quo? Ultimately, I was. This world had its problems, and it needed my help. The best path forward for me was to become a professional Hero like Sparrow. Perhaps, I could change the system from the inside.

  My power gave me the privilege to be good. There probably weren’t many threats in the world that I couldn’t delete in a few seconds, and that would be a useful tool for the forces of good.

  “Yes,” I said. A moment later, I made another realization. “Wait, how do you know that name?”

  “You’re a telekinetic who arrived in town today. The connection is obvious. Plus, the amount of force you put into that barrier proves it pretty clearly.”

  I looked down to the area that I had accidentally struck with my projected finger. The kitchen’s island had a granite countertop, and it had just gained a new hole and three deep cracks through its main body. It looked like a mutant had smashed it with a sledgehammer.

  “Why did you do that?” I asked. “And, how did you do that? What hit me?”

  Frank sat down at the now-damaged island, and I did the same. He took an old lighter from his coat and lit it before saying, “Anybody who watched that recording can tell you’ve got power but no experience. I felt obligated to show you that your power doesn’t make you unkillable.”

  “I am very aware of the vulnerability of my flesh, Frank.”

  The man chuckled, saying, “You’re off to a good start, then. My first piece of advice is to figure out how to make a full-body shield or get a lot more trigger happy. Lack of defense can always be supplemented with firepower, but you actually have to use the firepower for that to work.”

  “Uh huh,” I muttered, not wanting to admit that he was making good points. “How did you hit me, anyway?”

  “I could do it because I’m Deadeye.”

  “Uh…”

  “Haven’t heard of me. Okay. My power is Level 1 Spatial Manipulation. I can make small portals over short distances.”

  “Oh, I see. You used your power to get around my barrier.”

  “Yeah. Here’s the thing: there are dozens of people like me in this city, people who have figured out how to use their powers to kill people in creative ways. I don’t want to see a Hero with your kind of power dying because some mundie thug with a gun snuck up behind you.”

  “Huh?” I muttered.

  There were some more footsteps, and a woman entered the kitchen. She had long blonde hair, and she surveyed the kitchen with quick, jerking movements as if she was on some kind of stimulant.

  “What was that sound?” the blonde woman asked, her cadence a bit too fast to be natural.

  “I was just testing the new guy, Alice,” Frank said. “Tell the others the food’s here.”

  Without another word, Alice jogged out of the kitchen. I was surprised that she didn’t trip moving at that speed.

  “One more thing before the others get here, Macro-Kinetic,” Frank said. “I am thirty-two years old, and I’m the oldest active Hero in New Kinsington. The others died before they reached this age. Keep that in mind. No one will hold it against you if you want to be a normal person.”

  I wanted to say something sarcastic or crack a joke. Instead, I just said, “Thank you.”