Part One: Soliloquy (1)

1.

Law #1: Anything bad that can happen will inevitably happen.

This is universally true from the day you were born until the day you forever turn the other cheek, nose down, in the dirt. Everyone comes into this world wrinkly, smelly, and at high cost to the parents, and leave wrinkly, smelly, and at high cost to the children. So you see, most everyone is screwed twice, just for being born. There are a lucky few, however, who escape this unsightly demise prematurely in a ball of flaming glory, nearly instantaneously, and often riddled with newspaper headlines. When I come close to the end, my wish is to be left alone in a hostile wilderness, clad only in a leopard leotard, wielding a broadsword.

But before my end draweth nigh, it is my duty to publish to you, O Worthy Reader, how exactly I defeated the zombie in the field that fateful night.

Now I am not a man that is particularly predisposed to violence. On the contrary, I have never actually stuck or been stricken in a fight. Yet conflict seems to follow me where e’re I wander. Strange. It occurs to me that inevitably at some point in time one of the many who have felt the sting of my vindication will read this story and may even perhaps still harbor ill will towards me.

Please know this, that I am very, very sorry.

(But if you hadn’t been an evildoer, we wouldn’t have had our little falling out. Please read nonetheless, I implore you.)

Enough. Let us begin.

First there is me.

Hello.

Believe it or not, there are people walking about who possess one or more special powers that could be construed as being supernatural. The mass media has named these people “Uberhumans.” You may happen upon them at any time and not know it. Perchance the teller at your bank who you mistreat out of childish impatience could frappe you with a bat of the eye (beware!). Mayhaps the homeless fellow on the street corner transforms into a hyperdimentional space bogey in his off-time and has saved us all from untold stellar doom on many occasions (don’t judge him!). You must recall a time in your personal experience when, inexplicably, a long-misplaced treasure of yours turns up in an unforeseen location. The reunion is sweet, indeed, but who’s to thank?

Not an Uberhuman.

Yet when evil lurks in the hearts and intentions of the criminally insane (or highly-funded and unscrupulous), be ever so grateful that there are those who will implement what means they possess to see such bastards fry.

Who are these anonymous ultra powerful philanthropists?

Ladies and gentlemen, I humbly present to you, myself (and a select few others which will be named herein).

Some with large brains in high, important places would have you to believe that genetic mutations are the basis for such otherwise unexplainable special abilities or senses possessed by the Uberhuman. I’m here to tell you – possessing no degree of Higher Education, be it Genetics, Chemistry, or even the ever-popular Bachelors of Fine Arts – that genes have little to nothing to do with it. Those with special powers granted them simply have access to the vast catacombs of the natural mind which are forever beyond detection and study of Science and Medicine. Some even have conscious control of neuronal functions that otherwise lie in the autonomic realm. When one can not only see a grain of sand, but also to truly perceive it – touch it, weigh it, taste it, be it – that person can reach into that grain with his mind and manipulate its physical properties to such an extent that that grain, along with twenty-million others just like it become a mighty sandstorm (I, however, have never met or even heard of anyone who can actually do this, but it would be totally sweet if someone could!). All this and more, concealed within the vast and most-commonly-vacated freeways of the human brain.

“Why do I not have supernatural powers?” You may ask. I would reply by first pointing out that there is nothing at all supernatural about superpowers, and ask you to rephrase your question. You may then ask, “Why, then, do I have no superpowers, if it is so unsupernatural?” And then I would respond by informing you that most people do, in fact, demonstrate superpowers, even on a daily basis, and never realize it. There was a man I once knew who could burn out street lamps with his mind! Kind of nifty, you think? The problem was, he could only apply this power subconsciously, when his mind was otherwise engaged. Each time a lamp randomly flashed into nothingness before him was like a festering screw-wound, burrowing one more twist deeper into his tortured soul. A constant reminder of his inability to consciously control his power. So it is with most people – they either have a deeply integrated mental block that prevents them from exercising their powers openly, or their power is so inconsequential, they would never notice it or choose to develop it anyways even if they did. Another special friend of mine whom you will meet can instantaneously fall asleep by choice. Poor sap. She wants to fight crime so badly!

What makes an Uberhuman a hero such as myself is the conglomeration of two things. First – wait! Three things – First: an uncanny control to an unusual degree of some element. Second: that controlled element being able to be implemented in a functional manner to create a tactical advantage in the controller’s behalf. Third: An indissoluble disposition to use said power for the betterment of mankind and civilization, and in the dispensing of raw justice. Fourth: Iron willpower and bravado, mingled with mad skills, when sparring face to face with the ugly mask of evil (perhaps a fifth factor would be the need to be in the right place at the right time to combat adversarial forces – some people with huge potential just have the rottenest luck!). The synchronized accumulation of all these virtues displayed in a single being (or, at least amongst a Siamese twin tag-team combo) is what eliminates most people from the superhero pool. Although Uberhumans do not make up a significant percentage of a percentage of the world’s population, they are however what you might call a commonplace rarity – and I am one of them.

My name is Seamus, and I led a normal, and utterly insignificant life until I was about seven hours old. But we’ll save that story for another time.