2 Villain... or Hero?

I didn't say anything or do anything to antagonise Micheal as I pulled myself up and off the floor.

As I got to my feet I staggered backward, the wall was the only thing keeping me up. Micheal leered forward and gave me a light smack on the face, before turning and walking away as if nothing had happened.

I wanted nothing more than to drop back down to the floor, but if I did that I wasn't sure if I'd be getting up again, and I needed to get home before my Mum did. If I didn't she'd worry, and when I eventually did drag myself through the door I'd inevitably have to talk to her about what had gone on, and I didn't want to do that.

If Micheal could act as if nothing had happened then I could act as if nothing had happened, right?

I sucked in deep breath after deep breath, waiting for the pain in my stomach to subside, but as each second passed it just seemed to get worse and worse.

A choked scream of anger and sadness ripped its way out of my throat, muffled by my gritted teeth. I turned so that I was facing the wall and kicked it as hard as I could, the old brick didn't even budge. It did hurt my foot though.

When that wasn't enough, I struck the wall with my closed fists, scraping the sides of my pinky fingers on the rough material.

I'd chosen this route because it took me away from the river because I couldn't even face going down there without feeling short of breath, and Micheal had found me and beat the crap out of me anyway.

"What the hell am I supposed to do?" I wheezed, my abdominal pain slowly starting to fade down into a dull ache.

Every fibre in my being wanted to lash out at the wall again, but if someone came along and saw someone smashing themselves into a wall over and over they'd probably assume I was some sort of villainous Powered.

I'd been going through stuff like this every single day since I'd started attending the community weekend school over two years ago. My walk home used to be the closest thing I could find to some peace and quiet alone time. Sure, it could get a bit lonely from time to time, and the wastewater of the river wasn't exactly nice. But it had been secret and away from everyone else. Now I didn't even have my alternate route.

I didn't know what I was supposed to do in the future. I'd have to go back to school again tomorrow and risk getting assaulted on the way in. I'd have to leave in the afternoon and risk getting assaulted on the way back.

The prickling needles at the edge of my consciousness were only getting worse. I let out another long shaky breath as my fingers seemed to move off their own accord, scrabbling against the wall. I couldn't resist it anymore. I let my carefully built defences drop.

The ideas flew into my mind thick and fast. It was like an endless waterfall, pelting my mind with fresh concepts and knowledge, and now that it was open there was no way that I could stop it. My legs moved of their own accord, dragging me back in the direction of home, faster and faster as my mind sped up.

I all but crashed through the door, almost unable to grasp my key properly as my fingers twitched and spasmed, itching to bring parts together. Itching to craft things that had never been crafted before. As I climbed the stairs to my bedroom I could feel the adrenaline rushing through my body.

I barged through my door and collapsed to the ground where my parts box was waiting for me. I'd managed to keep my ability under control since gaining it, but every now and then I'd still found myself picking up random pieces of equipment during the week when I helped my Mum in the reclamation yards. Now I was going to put those pieces to use.

My mind blurred as something else seemed to take control, pushing me to join pieces of metal together, my power taking hold of the materials and forcing them into the shape that I wanted them to be in.

With every passing second my construction started to take shape. I was crafting a power gauntlet. A weaponised construction that would increase the strength of my arm and allow me to shoot low powered beam attacks from a central unit in the palm. As far as Crafter Tech went it was pretty low grade, but with the raw materials I had on hand it was pretty much all I could put together.

I hadn't practised all too much with my abilities. I knew that my power, like all crafters, could seamlessly cause materials to join up with one another without the need for any power tools. I could practically print circuitry, straight from my mind, onto boards. But most importantly, my mind made massive leaps in intelligence, seemingly supplying ideas for new craft spontaneously by itself.

Resisting the call of building it all had been hard.

It would have been so incredibly easy to let loose on the school. To give Micheal exactly what he deserved, make him regret what he and his friends had put me through.

But if I did… that would make me a villain.

If I did, I'd be caught and arrested immediately. Not only were the PHA the dominant peacekeeping force in the community, but there were also two other Superhero teams and no doubt a few solo heroes around as well.

I didn't care about any of that though.

The idea of my Mum listening on the Shortwave, hearing that her son had used abilities she didn't even know I had to fry an unpowered boy? That disappointment kept me from doing anything of the sort.

I had to be better than that. I was going to be a superhero.