Alex Reynolds was out walking his dog Scruff. It was his usual walk, down the lane, onto the main street and along through the side paths to the park. He walked it every day. He had done for the past eight years of his life since his parents bought him Scruff for his ninth birthday. Alex had plans. He wanted to be a lawyer. He wanted to do his part to fix Illinois, more so than anybody from Armington had ever done so before, even more than that guy who built underground housing.
There was one thing, however, that the people of sleepy little Armington did not know. Several miles below their local park was a secret government nuclear testing facility, and one of their coolant tanks had sprang a leak. This caused a chain reaction that created a vent of radioactive gas to usher out and engulf Alex and Scruff. The leak was then contained and a meltdown was averted. The government closed and moved this facility before an investigation could take place.
Alex and Scruff both died almost instantly from radiation poisoning, their hair falling out and their skin hanging limply from their bones. That’s the thing with radiation; it doesn’t cause superpowers after extreme freak exposure, just death. Needless to say, this is not Alex’s story.
***
Jacque De La Diamants was part of a Parisian cartel and was what the comic books referred to as a ‘mutant’, in that his genetic makeup was different, giving him the strength of ten men. As such, he was the cartel’s top enforcer and went on all of the more dangerous jobs. True to his nickname, Jacque was on a diamond heist from Le Banque de France’s main building in Paris’s city centre. Jacque’s cartel had become notorious for its use of illegal, military grade firearms; they were more like a high end mercenary unit than a crime faction, and as such, the Parisian Police dispatched their Special Forces unit to respond to the bank’s alarm.
Jacque was the first to respond to the sirens outside. He jumped from one of the bank’s windows and landed on a riot van. The van crumpled beneath the force of the impact. Jacque broke both his legs and ruptured a number of internal organs before the Special Forces police turned and opened fire on him.
That’s another thing about super powers. They don’t make you invulnerable, unless that’s your power. Falls still hurt, you still take damage, bullets still kill. Don’t believe your own hype. Don’t get a God complex. Yeah, this story’s not about Jacque either...
***
Here’s the thing: Super powers are very real, but they aren’t from freak accidents with chemicals or radiation; they’re usually mutations, magical or mechanised, the three M’s of meta-humanity as they’ve become known – Muta, Magi and Mecha.
Comic books lie. Remember that. I like comic books, don’t get me wrong. They provide a sense of escapism for those not lucky, smart or wealthy enough to have powers of their own. But, don’t believe them one bit. Vigilantism is not and never will be cool, or legal. You go out on the streets, pretending to be a hero, one of two things is going to happen; you will either be A: arrested or B: shot. Either way, you end up forgotten by the public or, if you’re lucky enough to be arrested, you’re ridiculed in jail for the rest of your sentence as ‘that guy in a cape’. Thankfully, the only people who take up the cape, so to speak, and go out dressed as masked vigilantes, they’re usually also very seriously ill mentally. Remember that God complex I mentioned? Yeah, that’s more common than you’d think in Metas.
***
I should explain. This? This is my story. Raoul Mata, that’s my name. Born and raised in Rio ‘til I was six, then we moved to El Paso, Texas, after a few short months in England, Manchester to be precise. I hated Manchester. It was cold, it rained all the time, and everybody hated me for wearing a Brazil football shirt. Texas was fine. It was hot enough, but the locals called it ‘soccer’, and that annoyed me. Still does. Anyway, we lived in El Paso for a good few years until my mother moved us – me and my younger brothers and sister – to Stevensville, Michigan. We moved here when I was fourteen, and that’s when things started to happen.
You’re probably wondering why I’ve told you all this stuff about metahumanity, right? Well, I have powers too, or rather, a power. In fact, some might not even call it a power at all... I’m lucky; unnaturally so, to the point where I just tend to find the odds favouring me. It’s not one of these powers I can switch off either, I’m just lucky, but it doesn’t always work. That’s what gave me a bit of a reputation as a gambler, a risk taker back in high school. That’s what got me the nickname ‘Roulette’.
This? This is most definitely my story.
So there we have it, hope you liked it.
Feedback is always welcomed.
Adios for now,
Craiggy.
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