Cloudburst hovered above the street, staring down a monstrous tank. Cybertech’s robotic voice echoed out from the vehicle, cold and mocking. Behind it lay a path of ruin. Buildings had collapsed under its twin cannons as it fled from Johnson Research Labs. A few bodies poked out from the rubble. His heart clenched.

“Stand back.” The nearby police officers looked at him in confusion. “The fight could get dangerous.”

Instead of complying, the looks of confusion only intensified.

One officer spoke up: “I thought you could shield us from harm?”

Anger caused his stomach to tighten further. He had to take a breath to avoid lashing out. They did not know that Cybertech was not the only one at fault for the deaths and destruction.

“No,” he replied. “That’s Null’s job.”

There was some murmuring about Null, but some of the officers began backing away. One man’s eyes widened, but there was no time to deal with it. Without another word, Cloudburst rocketed toward the tank. Electricity crackled around his body as he collided with the outer shell. The tank stalled, and a camera turned to face him.

“Ah. Cloudburst. You’re a bit late. It’s been quite a day for the humans.” Cybertech let out a stilted, robotic chuckle. “I forgot how squishy humans were.”

Cloudburst scowled. “Begone, construct.”

He sent a massive surge of electricity through the tank. But Cybertech only laughed.

“The new insulation seems to be working well. Now get out of my way.”

The tank suddenly glowed and Cloudburst found himself jettisoned away from the vehicle.

Panic flooded his mind. No!

But it was too late to change course. He crashed through a building, causing it to shudder. There were screams as people who had not escaped got caught up in the damage.

I need to finish this before it gets any worse.

He reached out and grabbed a steel rod dislodged from the building’s foundation.

“I don’t have time for you today.”

The electric fields in the air distorted, and the rod shot forward with a bang. Cybertech’s tank skidded several feet to the side from the impact. Cloudburst was already on the move, charging up electricity in his palm. A thick bolt of lightning leaped from his hand toward the steel rod. This time, the tank’s lights flickered wildly.

“No… matter…. I’ve already….” Cybertech’s voice box fizzled out and the tank fell silent.

With a sigh, Cloudburst flew back over to the police.

“You.” Cloudburst pointed at the man who had seemed nervous when he mentioned Null. “Where is Null?’

Indignation filled the officer’s face as he realized he had been singled out. “He was hanging around the lab campus, and their security called us to deal with it.”

Cloudburst looked to the other officers. Most of them seemed shocked, but a few looked guilty.

“The Supers Collective will deal with you later.” Cloudburst took another step and repeated, “Where is Null?”

But the officer continued. “We were just doing our job! What’s it matter if that hanger-on wasn’t here?”

“Kemmers! Answer the man now!” His superior officer apparently got fed up with his excuses. “What did you do with the Super?”

Officer Kemmers held fast. “S-Sir! Why are you defending him? Everyone knows he doesn’t do anything. ‘First on the scene, never does a thing.’ It’s all over the news!”

Something snapped, and Cloudburst said, “He’s the reason no one dies whenever we fight!”

He inadvertently let off a crackle of electricity, causing nearby electronics to flicker. The officer paled.

Finally, in a small voice, he said, “He’s in a holding cell at the precinct.”

Cloudburst left in a flash of energy. Moments later, the local precinct came into view.

“Cloudburst?” The officer at the front desk looked up in shock.

“Where are the holding cells? One of your officers arrested Null. Everyone involved in this is now culpable for the resulting deaths and destruction.”

Stunned, the officer could only point to a hallway on the left. Cloudburst strode past the front desk without another word.

“Null!” He kicked open the door to the holding cells to relieve some of his frustrations.

Null looked up as he entered the basement. Even through the mask, Cloudburst could see the bruises beginning to form.

“How many died this time?” Null’s emotionless voice rang out.

Cloudburst shook his head and quickly made his way over to the cell. A quick jolt of electricity unlocked the door.

But Null remained seated. “Sorry I couldn’t get out of here in time.”

“It wasn’t your fault.” The words felt hollow even as he said them.

Null only gave him a sad smile.

...

Rushed a bit to finish it since I was having lunch while writing.

If you're interested in my works, the archive of my various writing responses can be found in my writing portfolio, link through my profile. There's also an original story, The Crossroads.

Thanks for reading.

(Follow-up Story in Replies Below)

"Are you ready for your interview?".

I looked up from my seat on the sofa, yawning. Harold stood there with a smile on his face, as he always did. Being in charge of us was probably incredibly stressful, but he never let it show. Though I suppose I went a long way to helping with that.

"I guess so boss. This is for our new website isn't it?"

He nodded, as a glass smashed. He looked up to see Vanishing Man wince, picking up the pieces of a broken vase. Great man, good for delivering unexpected punches in battle. Though when not in a fight his spatial awareness left a lot to be desired.

"Thats right. A basic overview of powers, of course nothing specific or not already known to the public. Though yours aren't well known, we decided to let it be known, mainly to keep public trust up."

I shrugged, standing up.

"Whatever you think is best. I don't mind. Alright, let's get this over with."

He lead me to a specially prepared conference room. Inside I could see the reporter, a well dressed lady with a laptop and recorder. A high speed camera sat next to her, pointed at a section of concrete. Also within was Mass Hit, our resident super strong individual. He used it well with his unique power of increasing the mass of anything he used, making his attackes devestating if done right. He grinned as he saw me enter, rubbing his hands together with glee. I returned the smile, before focusing on the reporter.

"Ms Denni I presume? A pleasure to meet you. My name is Emma Sorales, also known as The Constant."

She smiled politely, holding out a hand for me to shake. I gave a solid pump, before settling in the interviewee chair.

"Nice to meet you. I'm sure you have been made aware, but I am here to interview you with anything for the public to know. That means I will record our talk, however if there is anything you say that should be struck from the record, please say and we will make sure it is removed."

"Thank you. Let's get this started then shall we?"

She nodded, looking to her laptop.

"Ok. First off, the big question, what are your powers?"

I smiled, looking over at Mass Hit. I knew why he was here, ready for the demonstration.

"My power is Collateral Damage Mitigation. Basically, when I'm around super powers don't affect objects as much as they should. For instance, someone who can punch through stone won't make a hole in the walll when I'm nearby. Fire hot enough to melt steel will only blacken things. Basically, I'm the dream of any insurance policy holders."

Ms Denni nodded, considering her next question.

"So you prevent collateral damage. Does that mean you are around as often as possible when there are fights happening?"

I gave a smirk.

"Indeed. In fact I'm almost always one of the first on the scene. My power means that if there is a fight in the morning, after lunch the street can generally open again for business as usual. I'm not in the main spotlight, but I don't need to be. By just being nearby, I protect most things. If they are stringer than my base connection, I can focus to increase the strength of the targeted buildings."

She tapped her laptop, looking to the next one.

"Thats very useful isn't it? So what about disaster response? How do you help with that?"

I gestured to the building we were in.

"I stay home. I can't help there, and if I went I would hinder help. There are times it's helpful to break through buildings, especially when they are at risk of harming others. Anyway, my power only works against super powers. I can't stop someone from breaking their mug by dropping it. If there is a natural disaster I'm basically useless."

The reporter nodded.

"Fair enough. What's your favourite fight to have been in?"

I grinned at that.

"Easy. About three years ago, during the Clockwork Invasion. I was sent out with Mass Hit, Vanishing Man, the Hyde Twins and a few others. They had a whale of a time, breaking the Watchmakers toys. And I got a front row seat, as my power meant they could throw them around with impunity."

She gave a nod at that.

"I remember that. It was impressive how small the damage recovery was, I suppose bow you are the one to praise for that. Do you want public recognition?"

I thought for a moment, before shaking my head.

"It's funny. At first that's all I wanted. When I joined, I was sure I would be a superstar. But now, I appreciate being in the background. I'm happy doing my bit. The council members and business owners often thank me personally. But I don't need public praise. I'm happy how it is."

Ms Denni smiled at that.

"That's the main questions done for now. Now I think it's time for the video."

I nodded.

"Sure. Mine is simple. You have seen Mass Hit punch through concrete haven't you?"

She nodded. Mass Hit laughed, clenching a fist.

"We did that just now my friend! Same thing?"

I flashed him a smile, giving a nod of agreement.

"Yes please. Though with a cannon ball if you can?"

He shrugged, gesturing to the prepared weights. They would do. A punch could be blamed on special effects. We had a high speed camera. As he threw it one handed, he would also drop a penny. Just to show ir was going the same speed.

"Alright. First throw without, second with. Got it?"

I nodded at him, consciously reigning in my power around the block of concrete. He picked up a weight, chucking it up in the air before launching it at the block, dropping the penny. Unsurprisingly the weight went through, making a sizable hole. Ms Denni gave a polite clap, before I spoke up.

"So that is his normal effect. Now, if I cover it."

I let my power over it again. Mass Hit did the same, throwing it hard. This time the weight bounced off, leaving it unblemished. I turned to the reporter, shrugging.

"Thats it. Nothing flashy, but very useful in our society."

She nodded, looking at the weight and the block.

"Yeah. Yeah I can see that."

I calmly stroll along the streets of New York, strangely empty for the big city, but it doesn’t bother me. A scared stray cat walks up to me, begging for cover. He rubs up against my legs and purrs, so I pick him up and walk to what seems like a safe area, and set him down. He looks back for a second, as if expressing his gratitude, then bolts away. Just then, a civilian runs out of a close building, trying to get to cover, but in those few moments when she was in the open, a wrecked car flies out of nowhere, set on a collision course for the poor woman. I fling out my hand, and the car stops in midair, only inches away from the woman petrified by fear. I put down my hand and the car drops to the ground with a loud clank. I walk over to the woman. She is stammering, not believing what had just happened.

“What was that?” She asked fearfully.

I said nothing, but set my hand on her shoulder, and like that, she was teleported to a safe area. Once that was finished, I looked up to where the heroes were fighting Lord Death yet again, and shook my head. My powers allowed me to do anything, as long as it is directly saved civilian lives, and my colleagues were making that very difficult.

“I can only prevent so much collateral damage you know!”

Captain Justice just grunted and attempted to be more precise with his car throwing.

I swear the “good guys” sometimes cause more damage than the forces of evil

What is the definition of chaos? There surely is one, but the real meaning varies depending on who you ask. To a superhero like Gamma Grafton the definition was skewed from the norm. Something surely along the lines of "chaos is the normal. What happens in my head."; something strong sounding and oafish. But for me. Well I knew that chaos was just the absence of order. And well, order is my business.

As another truck came hurdling through the air in my direction I threw myself to the ground, watching as it soared over. I couldn't stop it, at least, not yet. A voice from behind yelled out: "In-sure! It's headed for the apartments, there's still people inside!"

"Don't tell me how to stop cars and I wont tell you how to beat people half to death, Howitzer. Now get back to it! Oh...and you can stop holding back."

My response seemed to relieve him a little. Though I didn't have much of a reputation with the public, other heroes had seen what I was capable of; amongst them I had glowing reviews. He gave me a smirk and turned back to face his opponent, a large, mechanized man with arms the size of tanks. With an explosive leap Howitzer speared the mechanical maniac backwards. Where he'd jumped from a smoldering crater and more work for me was left behind.

The truck bounced off of the ground with its continued momentum, barrelling closer to the apartments. On the balcony's those that previously watched now ran in panic. I watched a woman lock her balcony door on the way in.

But despite their panic I had to wait, my timing needed to be perfect.

"In-sure! You positive you got it!?" Howitzer spoke between attacks, another explosion erupting at his fists.

I did not reply. My concentration was in perfect form and I couldn't allow the insufferable worrier to ruin that. They always worried so damn much. And in that moment it happened, as if in slowed time. The moment the truck touched the building, shifted a single brick, all of my requirements were met. I yelled out into the air my catchphrase: "That building is insured!" (Never really caught on), and the car halted in its tracks, losing all of its momentum and falling to the street in a heap. The brick on the building that had been pushed in slowly aligned itself.

"Oh...the truck is insured too" in response the wreck perked back up, transforming back into a car once again

I couldn't help but stand back and smile at my work. Of course I had done this a million times before, but it never got old, and recognition or not, I loved my job.

The chaos on the street a moment ago had fallen to quiet. Behind me a charred Howitzer stumbled over and to my side, his labored breathes proof of the battle that had ensued. Behind him the large mechanical man lay still, thrown through the side of a building. At a glance that had seemed to be the worst of the damage, but upon a deeper look there were craters all up and down the street. Char marks along homes. One house squished entirely flat, pancaked into a fiery nothing.

Howitzer let out a long sigh "Great work on the apartments! I shouldn't have worried. But uhm...do you mind getting the-"

With a single phrase from my mouth: This block was insured, the street returned back to normal, rebuilding itself like lego pieces until it was as good as new. The building spit the large mech back out onto the street.

I could hear the police arriving, and with them camera crews and press. They'd clamour to Howitzer and rave about his win. About how clean he'd kept the streets during battle. And sure, he'd give me recognition, they always did, but I was an addendum. An after thought to their glory. An and I couldn't have done it without In-sure, hastily tacked on the end of their words.

As I got ready to leave though a face appeared on the apartment balcony, followed by another and another. Soon they were flooded, flooded with eyes all staring to me. I could hear their whispers even from down below.

"Thats the guy who saved us. In-Sure right?"

"Wow I mean Howitzer won but without the other guy we'd be doomed!"

I tested out the words on my tongue in a whisper, then with a bit of found confidence yelled up. "Don't worry. I in-sured your safety!"

To my surprise I was met with applause, with a roar of cheers from the balcony. Howitzer smiled, patting me on the back with a charred hand.

"Feels good huh? You should get this more often, hero."

It did feel good. And even though I loved my job, praise or not, cheers never hurt. I was glad someone realized that chaos was not just the absence of order, it was the absence of me.

Writers note: Some goofy lore I wanted to add but had no place to. In-Sure gets around by destroying parts of sidewalk or pavement then standing on it as he activates his power of repair. Doing so gives him a boost, as the pieces repairing under his feet shoot him forward.

Taking it more towards "Established Universe"

××××××××××××

"Kevin finally showed up!" Superman heard in his earpiece. He grinned.

His fight with Darkseid was over one second later. Superman loved not having to hold himself back, especially in this world as fragile as cardboard to him.

"Good work," Batman could be heard on the secure frequencies. "See if Kevin needs your help, otherwise you may return," this was said to him specifically.

"Sure thing!" replied Clark Kent.

He approached the somewhat secluded rooftop.

"Thank you for helping out today!"

"Uhh... It's fine," was Kevin's reply.

"Where is Brainwave?" Superman felt the need to ask. Usually they were inseparable.

"Indisposed," was Kevin's monotone reply.

Something about how he said it didn't sit right with Superman. The increase in Kevin's heartrate was another indication something weird was going on.

"Something you would like to share?" Clark asked with as little suspicion as he could.

Unfortunately, he was never known for his subtlety.

"What is collateral?" Kevin asked him instead.

Superman was back to being confused. "Are you worried about a loan? Justice League helps one of their own, worry not!"

"It is my superpower, you know? Stopping all collateral damage." Kevin continued as if he hadn't said a word. "But who defines what is collateral? What was intended?"

"I remember reading about how Brainwave was helping you attune your mind to react quickly..." Clark lead him on. Already his comms were on, and Batman was listening to every word and doing whatever trickery he did to them.

"Yeah, he helped me a lot, thanks for that, really." Kevin spoke with a finality that Clark didn't like, not at all. "He helped me understand what is or isn't collateral. For that I will forever be thankful to him." There was a smile on Kevin's face.

"Brainwave's comms are offline," came the voice of Batman.

"Whatever he did to my daughter... None of it was collateral. I checked many, many times. It was exactly what he had intended. He made sure I knew."

"Detain him Superman, we can question him from the safety of a secure prison."

"He made sure to let me know, all damage done by you superheroes was collateral, except the one inflicted on the villain. Except the ones you had intended."

Superman was already accelerating, his hands around Kevin's neck so he wouldn't die off a whiplash, his feet ready to jump away, but... he couldn't.

"You are a superhero, and I am a mere bystander. I am no villain, Superman," Kevin said with a sad smile.

Clark increased his force. The concrete under his feet cracked and repaired itself, as did Kevin's clothes under his wrists.

And he remained unmoved.

"If Brainwave was a superhero, even after everything he did... There are no villains on this world, Superman."

And to his growing horror, he realised Darkseid was forming again, his bits and pieces slowly coming together.

"I have a simple task, Superman, and I have come to see it finished. I will see Earth free from all its collateral damage."

And then Superman felt the sun slip away from his skin.

"You don't need all that heat damaging your skin, now, do you?"

the mental toll, I don’t think I can take it anymore. I got these powers just seemingly yesterday, despite the actual timing being months ago. I feel as this duality of gaslighting is bring me down. The public thinks I’m useless and the others think I’m a janitor…I don’t know. Walking along this sideway on a dark night, my head down; my hoodie up. I feel as if I just trapped myself, it hurts but I cling on to the hope of change. One day I may become better.

I have my doubts, my insecurities. Regardless how much I lie to myself, I feel as if…no one really cares. I saw my powers as a gift but now I’m just a tool……a…just…I don’t know actually and that’s what makes me scared. I don’t know what I am anymore: a hero? A tool? A handicap? Something for the public to keep their eyes on so the others can get away with everything. I care about human life, and I want to save others in the best way I can….I hope change is what they truly say; inevitable, if not.

Then why am I a hero?

How does that song go? "Oooooh, heaven is a place on Earth!"

Well... yeah. You're welcome.

I'm a schlub. I know it. My girlfriend is so far out of my league that it's not even funny. We work well together, though. We're a real power couple.

Yeah, yeah, sorry. I have a schlubby sense of humor, too. Dad bod, dad jokes. It's a package deal.

Angela - I kid you not, her name is literally "Angel" with a grace note at the end - comes into the TV room carrying a hot cup of my favorite tea in one hand and our combat kit in the other. The latter contains a bottle of wonderful-yet-nonaddictive painkillers (thanks, Dr. Science!) some heating pads, some scented oils, and even some little snacks to tide me over until dinner's ready. I look up at her and offer my wan smile.

"Damage report?" I ask.

She smiles back - pure love and sympathy - and shakes her head. "The Justicar and Madcap."

"Oof," I reply. "He's been to ground for ages. I'm guessing this is the big reveal?"

She nods. "Dead man's switches, graveyards, crematoriums, and insurance databases. Just enough vague anti-capitalist sentiment to get the usual mobs worked up."

I chuckle. "Why does it feel so familiar, even though I'm quite sure nobody's ever done it before?"

She sets our gear down and leans in for a kiss. I happily oblige. She smells like home and tastes like love. Since it's just you and me, I'll add that there's definitely some weird Mommy vibes too - but guess what? We're both into it.

Her superpower begins to envelop me. I'll never admit it, but it's even better than that other stuff. Any idiot should know that you never, ever, ever admit to that. Not ever.

I take a deep breath and settle in. "I love you, Angel," I tell her, and I grasp her hand meaningfully. "Not just for what we have to do. Crosswords in bed. Lunch on the deck. Barbecue with the neighbors."

"Well that last one's a total lie," she jokes. "The Hendersons always make you grumpy."

"It's just so much dog hair!" I whine. "Okay, fine, they're very polite for not bringing the mutts along to outdoor events, but it's just... it's everywhere. It should have its own pollen alert in the goddamn newspaper."

"'Newspaper,'" she echoes, shaking her head again. "You are such an old man."

"Geez, I hope not," I reply. "A young lady like you, that'd be super gross."

She's actually fifty years older than me. She looks like a college coed - and it ain't just the looks. She has to put in some effort with her makeup and wardrobe to make those Mommy vibes vibrate. Some people's superpowers have really, really obvious benefits. Some people's don't. You should be curious as to how many unsung heroes there are out there, doing their thing, day in and day out, never putting on a fancy suit or doing a press conference.

Is that a metaphor? Subtext? It probably should be, but it's not, because this is a world of superheroes.

She feeds me three pills and hands me my water glass. She maintains loving contact, and will for most of the afternoon. The oil and heating pads are for later, if it gets really bad. It will, more than likely. Madcap doesn't have amazing powers, but he's a planner. It's been three years. The Justicar can't brute-force his way through this one - though, ironically, I'm on call precisely because shit's about to explode.

I feel each one - each destructive event that should leave hundreds or thousands maimed and dead. I'm Bruce Lee. I'm like water. I do tricky judo moves on the horrific reality that barely anyone remembers even exists, and it's just enough to redirect it towards cartoons and comic books. Angela's there through it all. Her touch, her love, our combat kit, and - most especially - her superpower keep me in the game. The TV is on more out of tradition than anything else. I'm not really in a good place to absorb ego boosts. It's funny what qualifies. The newscasters are, by turns, somber or panicked. More destruction. More carnage. More rioting.

A couple slip through, always. A fair number of those deaths or injuries are meaningful - poetic, ironic, intimately connected to some major player. Cartoons and comics have a cost. No one can ever know how... specific it is. Any idiot should know you never, ever admit to that.

Angela sees a man suffering greatly to do everything he can, knowing it's never quite enough. That's mostly true. Decades ago, she had her phase. She wanted to be out there, healing the front-liners, or at least their collateral damage. To her credit, it didn't take her long after meeting me to change her tune. Then again, I do have a few very special friends willing to put in good words for me. Guys like The Justicar would never order somebody to play nursemaid, but heroes are heroes. Stories unfold. Love blossoms. Things just kind of work out.

Like I said, it's mostly true. I feel the strain. Madcap was not fucking around. The heating pads and oil come out. I disrobe and stretch out, still feeling every massive blow. Angela's working overtime, just as surely as I am. I dread the day when she starts showing the strain. I don't want to think about it. I don't want to talk about it. It's the third thing that even idiots know not to mention to the loves of their lives who are massively out of their leagues.

I have some special friends I can hash it out with. There's this one total asshole, actually, who you'd never even think... well, never mind that. It's getting close to the grand finale. Don't ask me how I know, but it's just around the time when Dr. Science and Mental Master are relaying the vital information to the front-liners. Madcap's plans will be foiled, but not trivially. He'll escape, or get caught and escape, or maybe today's the day that his luck finally runs out. That'd be nice. I'm not god; I don't get to decide that. I'm just Bruce Lee, with the hottest wife in the world. That has to be enough.

Angela keeps being a true hero long after the major disasters have been contained. Tomorrow morning we'll give each other some very heroic rewards. Tonight, she's my regular nurse, not my weird Mommy-vibe one. Tonight, she eases me out of combat mode and back to regular mode.

You know, regular mode? Did I not mention that before? Of course I didn't. I wanted to save it for the end.

We live in a world of cartoons and comic books. People with superpowers get to be superheroes and supervillains. The world doesn't end. The death count remains reasonable. The repair work happens quickly, quietly, and just about on-budget.

Civilization doesn't collapse. The massive, widespread, worldwide psychological trauma that ought to have torn it apart right along with all the superweapons and supervillains simply never materializes. Well, that's mostly true. Those supervillains do come from somewhere, after all.

Don't you remember what I said at the very beginning?

You're welcome.

The last thing Slick Salazar remembered was defeating the Virtue Collective. It was a plan he'd been building toward for the last year or so, and to make it work, he'd had to exploit the weaknesses of every member of the Collective. Salazar's own superpowers were impressive, but those do-gooders always seemed to prevail in matters of brute force, so he'd come up with a special solution to deal with each of them individually: A freeze ray to counter Fleetfoot's super speed, a calculated EMP burst and super-magnet to shut down Titanium Titan's high tech power armor, steel cables laced with the mythical golden fleece to bind and subdue the godly Athena, and of course, a deadly thought virus to neutralize the mind of Nightfox, the team's brilliant tactician.

As satisfying as those solutions had been, though, Salazar had saved the best for last. After defeating the other four, only the team's leader, Mighty Man, stood in the way of Salazar's victory, and after so many years of suffering defeat at the hands of that self-righteous, spit-curled fascist, Salazar took tremendous pleasure in ending his life with a knife composed of tritium, the one material capable of piercing Mighty Man's invulnerable skin.

With the death of Mighty Man, the Virtue Collective's defeat was total, and Salazar's victory was complete... Or so he'd thought.

When he came to, he found himself in a totally nondescript room with no windows, no doors, and a single lightbulb overhead for illumination. With him in this room was a person he didn't recognize.

"What's going on here? Where am I? What have you done to me?" Salazar demanded.

"Tranquilizer dart." The stranger said simply. "You were so preoccupied with your victory that you didn't notice me lining up the shot."

"Where have you taken me?" Salazar demanded.

"We're one mile underground, encased in a steel cell wrapped in concrete." The stranger explained.

Salazar sneered. "Do you imagine this little prison of yours can hold me?" He laughed contemptuously, then threw a punch at the nearest wall.

Nothing happened.

Salazar looked at his fist, then at the wall. He punched again- nothing. He tried another wall, to no avail.

"You may as well stop trying. You can't damage these walls." The stranger said. Salazar crossed the room and grabbed the stranger by the shirt collar.

"My punches can level mountains, you little pissant!" He roared in fury. "What have you done to my powers?"

"I haven't done anything, you're as strong as you ever were. You just can't break these walls." The stranger explained. "That's my power, you see- I stop collateral damage. As long as I'm here, you can't destroy anything."

Salazar grinned cruelly, his eyes glowing red. "As long as you're here, eh?" He mused. A pair of laser beams erupted from his eyes, lancing toward the stranger... Only to bounce harmlessly off of him.

"It's kind of funny, the way my power works..." The stranger went on, seemingly unbothered by the lasers. "It protects structures, but also people. Innocent people, I mean- whatever it is that controls how my powers work, it considers innocent bystanders to be collateral damage, too. Which means I'd always be protected, as long as I didn't willingly put myself in harm's way by joining the Virtue Collective. So I never did." The stranger's face hardened into one of deep contempt. "I wish I had. I should have been there, helping them fight you..." He sighed. "It's too late now. I couldn't save them... But at least I can save everyone else."

Salazar clapped sarcastically. "That's a wonderful story... But you seem to have forgotten that I'm stronger than you. Even if I can't hurt you, you can't hurt me, either. We're in stalemate."

"Yes, we are. And that's where we'll stay."

Salazar's face fell as he began to realize the implications of what the stranger was saying.

"You... You don't mean... You can't mean-"

"I do." The stranger smiled, looking strangely serene. "Get comfortable, Slick Salazar. You and I are going to be down here together for a very, very long time."

The saying "All press is good press" inspired the outfit, I thought it apt. Helps me get to the scene, helps me keep a lower profile - by the time the new names on the respective rosters figure me out, they tend to understand why I'm kept around. I'm still terrible at playing the role of "catastrophic event photographer" - I never get a good picture of what's happening, and there's never some dramatic wrecked building or hollowed out street for me to frame the aftermath with. Not that I mind, of course.

Essentially, I prevent collateral damage. That's how I pitch it to the heroes. They like it, their underwriters like it, the local governments like it. It helps the heroes swallow the bitter pill of how that collateral is prevented. If someone fires a weapon at a hero while I'm involved, they're getting hit. If they don't, something or someone else will, and that's "collateral" - the clever heroes usually learn that if it's part of the fight it's fair game, so they'll bring plenty of resources to soak hits that would otherwise be on them, or make sure that the backstop is another baddie. They benefit as well, of course. Laser eyes never ignite fuel tanks, throws hit brick walls instead of the glass window a foot to the left, and they never have to worry about crashing through a roof while landing.

The bad actors don't always know who I am or what I do. They figure they're on their game, or that it's just "how these things work out" - the ones with the time or resources to figure me out, however, do a quick bit of calculus. If I'm present, they can't miss. Their goons start peppering the heroes with rounds, their fancy doomsday weapons have a chance at hitting a moving target they'd never be able to otherwise. They benefit from having me around, so they keep me around. I've gotten 'tips' before, as well, just to make sure that I'm present when they unveil their newest anti-hero weapon.

So, I get the heroes hurt more often, but the bystanders get to walk free. It's hard, sometimes- there are a few capes and cowls draped under the words "In Memoriam" that I can't be sure I didn't hang there myself. But, in that same building, there's another board of names and photographs. Innocents, hostages, people that made it out of the most terrifying day of their lives because a hero stepped in just in time. People that those same heroes relied on my power to save.

As long as there's more names on the second wall than the first, I think I'm doing alright.

A string of loud crashes and booms rang in the stale air. The city's hero was currently locked in a fist fight with the villain that's been terrorizing the people for years. Blow after blow was exchanged between the two and-

Ouch, the hero had been thrown into the surrounding building, causing on of the walls to buckle in and collapse. Relief, the damage control of these fights, was sitting on top local bakery watching the two fight.

The two were locked back into another fist fight that was likely to end the same way. Relief wasn't worried about that right now though. As they activated their power, the rubble and bits of dust in the road were surrounded in a light blue hue, before gently disappearing and being deposited in a endless void.

The void in question was filled with other things as well, ranging from small rubble from buildings to completely ruined skyscrapers from battles earlier in the day. They all peacefully hovered in the void, smashed and torn by the heroes and villains fights previously in the day.

However, Relief was okay with that. The heroes loved him, even if the citizens of this city thought he was the absolute worst 'hero' out there.

As the villain was slammed into a glass window and into a book store, Relief activated his power again and removed the glass scattered around the floor.

It joined the other depre in the void as the hero stalked up the building to sit by him. "Do you mind working overtime Relief?" The hero clasped his hands together and looked at him with puppy dog eyes.

Relief just laughed and nodded, happy to help the hero in any way he could. The heroes eyes sparkled and he whispered a tiny "yes!" to himself before jumping of the bakeries roof and rejoining the villain, who was pulling him self out of the book store.

The hero wasted no time before leaping at the villain and unleashing his pull power. The explosions of sound were way more powerful than the ones before.

The villain was spared no mercy and he was relentlessly thrown through building after building. His strangled cries rang out and he surrendered to the hero, begging for mercy as he bleed out on the ground.

Relief chuckled to himself, and got to work. Pieces of concrete, glass, some bits of the road, and even an entire building peacefully swirled around the void after Relief was done.

As the two stood in the road with the villain being cuffed and shoved a car. The hero turned to Relief and smiled at him. A silent word of appreciation was exchanged between the two.

What a crazy first day at work.

Pt 1

I loved watching super heroes of old. The epic battles, the crazy moments of heroism…! I watched it cheering for the good guys when I was younger….then, I grew up. I stopped cheering when it all just…became an inconvenience.

Then I developed powers. Powerful incredible, super special powers. And perhaps a small, childish part of me always felt I had an obligation to use my powers for good. But by then the glamor had died in my eyes. Yet, everyone, everywhere I look stared expectantly, as if I was always, from the moment I was BORN, destined to be a hero.

So….I became one. But I never Intended to get too far into the action. I’m a creative guy. And with something as nebulous as time at my command, there are ways I could be a hero, and a bystander.

I wish it could’ve stayed that way, forever…..

—————————————

I stroll around a city street, watching my phone. It’s some random meme collection or something, I don’t really care. I feel a cop approach me from behind.

“Sir, you need to step back, th-this is a war zone her-“ BOOM-!!

A robot arm goes crashing down next to me, crushing the guy. Poor dude.

Well, almost. I raise my hand, shifting it a bit. The world around the cop shifts, and time…reverses. I shove the cop aside and he barely avoids his previous fate of getting crushed.

“Wh-wh, h-how di-did y-you-“

Oh great, he survived the initial hit. Or at least, didn’t die instantly.

“Don’t worry about it, just leave.”

“B-but sir? Y-you still should-“

Ugh. What a pain. I fish out my hero registration card, almost shoving it in his face.

Hero name: Contrarium Power: Reversal

“Y-you’re a hero? Th-that’s-“

“Mmhm. If you’ll- ooh?” Ah, I think I heard something funny from the video….

“Heh, hah hah-!”

THOOOOM-!

“Crap, another gas main. I’ll catch you later.”

Everyone thought I did nothing they'll never know I am the most important of the group at least according to the Adventurering. Everyone hates me but I don't care I do good I'm a hero not a fame seeking jack-@$$.

Everyone in my group require their power to transform. One day I was the one with the most transformation left. I had to do public press this is why I wish my power affected reputation. I walked up to the camera trying to summon my social power, smiled and said, "Hello I suppose you are here to cover the battle for the news."

The reporter looked at me like I as if I was a walking piece of trash and asked, "Who the F*ck wants you to be on here."

Ugh I hate it when people are like this. I must stay calm, so I as calmly as possible stated, "I am as good to report this story as any other hero also no idea I don't want to be here."

The reporter sighed sadly and just questioned, "why are you so respected so much in the group."

I simply responded, "its been said a thousand times I prevent collateral damage."

The reporter scoffed I could tell he didn't believe me so I asked, "how about I don't join the next minor superhero battle." I just hope no one gets killed I'll stay in the area just in case.

"Oh my god, Delta! Delta!" a woman's voice cries out from the crowded street. People look around, spot Carl, and take out their phones. The woman bounces through the crowd towards us.

"Shit," Carl says through a smile. "I thought the beard would hide me."

I squeeze his shoulder. "I told you it wouldn't. Want me to pick up your coffee and meet you at the office?"

"No, this won't take long." I'd hoped he would tell me to go ahead. This always happens when I'm out with the other members of the Summer Squad.

"Should have used a mask like me," I say.

"Mask. Good idea." He fishes around in his pocket.

"Delta! Can I get a selfie?" the girl asks as Carl pulls out a facemask. She's wearing a black shirt with the Summer Squad logo.

"Sure. Keep walking. We cant hold up traffic." He lets the mask hang by an ear while she snaps a dozen photos, then secures it across his face as she puts her phone away.

"What was it like on the moon?"

"Dusty."

"Were you scared?"

"Not really."

"What did you do on the way there?"

"Watched movies."

"What movies?"

"Look, I don't want to be a dick, but I'm with..." He gestures to me. I wave.

"Oh, I didn't notice her." Nothing new. Carl strikes an imposing figure at seven feet, compared to my five. "Who is she? Your girlfriend?"

"A friend," I say. Carl gives me side eye.

The girl's eyes go wide. Shit. She recognized my voice. "Seraph?"

"A true super fan. Want a selfie?"

She turns her focus back to Carl. "Can I give you my number? I run a popular YouTube channel about the Summer Squad. I have over ten thousand subscribers." She digs through her purse and withdraws a pink and purple business card.

Carl takes it. "Yeah, sure. Have a great summer." The girl squeals and practically skips away. Carl hands me the card. "Maybe this one will want to hear you out."

"No one ever does." I take it anyway.

"It'll just take time."

"This whole generation will have to pass away before anyone thinks of me as anything other than a villain."

"Eventually they'll see you've changed."

"Not anytime soon."

He sighs. "Fine, maybe not. But honestly babe, can you blame them?"

"Don't go there."

"I mean, twelve cities is kind of a lot. It'll take some time to regain their trust after you've killed all their family and friends."

"You don't have to be such a dick about it."

"You didn't have to kill all those people."

"You'd have done the same thing in my position."

"Unlikely. But more importantly, why'd you say 'friend' back there?"

"What?"

"When she asked if you were my girlfriend, you said friend."

"Oh Jesus, Carl." I roll my eyes.

"Don't 'Oh Jesus' me. This isn't even the first time."

"Do you really want to be associated with me like that?"

"We've already had this conversation."

"Babe, it'll ruin you."

"No it won't. It can only be good for you. It'll show you're rehabilitated."

"I really don't think so. They'll either think I'm a manipulative psychopath or you're gullible."

"What are you doing right now to change people's perception of you?"

"You mean besides keeping the city intact when you guys try to throw buses into buildings?"

"According to you, that'll never work, so yes, aside from that."

"Fucking nothing I guess."

"Then what's the harm in trying literally anything?"

"I've already told you."

"And I've told you. And what's more, I don't want to keep this a secret anymore. I'm sick of it. And if you still want to keep our relationship secret, I'm done."

"Carl--"

"It's your choice."

I feel a hot flash of anger swell in my chest. It's not fair. He wants me to hurt him. He doesn't understand what he's asking for. It's not fair!

I'm transported back to Los Angeles. Duplication, flight, lightning speed, titan strength, psychic shields: I used them all to make myself an atom bomb. I remember the feeling of a hundred copies of me striking our fists to the ground at the speed of light. I remember the smoke and ash surrounding me, even as I flew up and up, over the brown, craggy mountains, over the gray clouds. I remember the crater my rage left in the dusty ground. I remember that same hot coal burning in my chest, wishing I could have destroyed more.

It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that everyone else got to have dinner with their families when I watched my parents get murdered. It wasn't fair that the rich kids were accepted to my dream university while I was stuck in a job that didn't pay enough for rent.

More importantly, it wasn't fair that rich and powerful men got even more rich and powerful while they took food out of my own mouth. My landlord, my boss, every stinking billionaire and politician took their pound of flesh until there was nothing left. And once I was out on the streets, I decided that there was only one thing to do: hold the country hostage until someone did something.

My rage of being robbed destroyed cities, killed millions. No one could stop me, not even the world famous Summer Squad. It's a miracle I didn't kill them all, though I came close. Even Carl once caught a fist that nearly sent him into orbit.

No one could stop me, except for the universe. All it took for me to see clearly was a couple tabs of LSD. Suddenly, I was confronted with the horror of what I'd done, and I saw that there was only one way forward:

From here on out, do no harm.

I came to the Summer Squad within a week. I told them I was done, that I'd seen the error of my ways, that I wanted to help. With the understanding that no prison could hold me and I refused to fight, they let me join the team as collateral damage prevention. They could set off a nuke in the middle of Times Square (if it still existed--my bad) with the assurance that there wouldn't be a scratch on anything but the sea monster or mole people or whatever it was they were fighting.

It took them some time to come around, but they came to respect me, then like me, then appreciate me. And Carl, over time, came to see me and understand me and love me in a way I'd never been loved before.

I take a deep breath. Hold it. Let it out. Feel the coal cool off. I take another, and another, and the coal turns to an ember.

"Fine," I say. "Next person who asks, I'm your girlfriend."

"Good. I love you." He reaches out and squeezes my hand.

I squeeze his back. "I love you too, you asshole."

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I stood on the rooftop, gazing out at the city below. My name was John, and I was a superhero. But unlike most superheroes, my power was a little bit different. You see, I had the ability to prevent collateral damage.

Now, I know what you're thinking. "Preventing collateral damage? That doesn't sound very impressive." But trust me, it's a lot more useful than you might think.

You see, all the other superheroes loved to go all out in their battles, not worrying about the destruction they might cause in the process. And let me tell you, they caused a lot of destruction. I mean, have you seen the size of the craters that some of these guys leave behind? It's ridiculous.

That's where I came in. Whenever one of my fellow heroes was causing too much destruction, I would jump into action. My power would kick in, and I would be able to deflect any debris or damage that was headed towards innocent bystanders. It wasn't the most flashy power, but it was important work.

Unfortunately, the public didn't seem to understand my value. They saw me as a useless hero, someone who didn't do much in the grand scheme of things. But that didn't bother me too much. I mean, sure, it was a little frustrating when people would ask me what my power was and then give me a look of disappointment when I told them. But I knew that my fellow heroes appreciated my help, and that was all that mattered.

So I continued to stand on the rooftop, watching over the city and making sure that everyone was safe. It might not have been the most glamorous job, but it was a job that needed to be done. And as long as there were heroes out there causing chaos, I knew that I would always be needed.

Oh, and one more thing. If you ever see me on the street, please don't ask me to demonstrate my power. I promise you, it's not nearly as impressive as it sounds.

Being a Demi had its perks. Most of us lavished and were flocked by the cities for all types of opportunity. The women, the gold, the statues, the speeches, they never ceased. Where one piece ended another poet would pick up and write a dozen lines again and again. Although for me, this never happened. When it happens enough; returning from a voyage to see your mates taken in and smiling from every which plebeian; to see through the smizles where the eyes don't go taut even though the folds of their mouths look rounded. Sure I receive love from my fellow Demis but we are far and few between. The hate I feel for the masses sears into me like a hot coal freshly taken from the underlayer of a furnace, layed on my flesh until it swallows it whole. The merchants conspired to get my tariff reduced by 50% this last voyage. Enough of him they said, he does nothing, the reports say so. My fellow Demi’s obviously have my back but are unable to say exactly what it is I do, as ordained by the gods. The Plebs know we are branded but by what and whom is hidden. Extravagance is baked into our souls through the gods.

They say when a Demi manifests it takes on the feeling of lust mixed with rage and all around feels heavy as if there is a weight in the air. When I manifested it was nothing like that. I was a child, alone and afraid, crouched and hiding as I watched two uninitiated tear through my fathers caravan. A lamp or oil must have tipped over because the store cart was on fire. I sat numbly and watched as the low forest wall crested into gold red flames swallowed the still blackened sky. The two finally reached my car and I stood; a small child, too long a spear in hand, a shield taking up my body to my neck. As sorrow turned to anger, I played them into action. A moment later the first one launched at me and I felt his weight, it shattered against mine. My internal dialogue lurched and feelings of dread and anguish fueled the air. Faces of terror and confusion looked back at me as I felt for anything, not even the satisfaction of putting down these two morsels brought me back. My training prepared me to aim for the heart or the top of the thigh depending on how heavy their armor looked, they weren't wearing any. Uncle gave me a personalized spear afterwards, and members of the Demi came to our estate. It comes in waves, this emptiness, feeding on the heaviness of my enemies and allies alike. I make Demis weaker. That is my purpose. I serve the Aetolian League.

I like the freshly imported sawdust of carthage which has a sweet smell to it. It's why I stay near the southern port, whereas Browning likes the taste of citrus and women so naturally hes closer to the market. When briefs are delivered I, being a stationary individual, am given mine first and told to rally my second. Browning hates when I fetch him.

Welcome to the Prompt! All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.

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