I lost my powers on a Monday.

           If you’ve never been in a super fight, just know they’re quick and brutal. Mylast one happened on the roof of a skyscraper. Like always, my nemesis had thescheme laid out before I arrived.

           I approached the setup, chalky gravel crunching under my booted feet. It wassimple: girl tied to a pole, shotgun mounted on another pole and aimed at herface. My nemesis stood off to the left, watching.

           “It’s the fast man! But will he be fast enough this time? Get the girl free before the shot reaches her. Those are the rules of this game.”

           He held up a small red remote, like a cell phone.

           “When you move.”

           I was fast, you see. Or maybe fast isn’t right. I could slow the passage oftime around me, like a tiny dam in a rushing river. I moved normally, but everyone else was more or less frozen until I let time melt back into place.

           “Give it up, Brian. We can do this easy or hard.”

           This was normal hero/villain banter. He’d told me his name because I hadtrouble pronouncing his villain name. That gun was going off, but Brian knewI’d be able to get to her in time. That was the point; we do some variation of this dance daily.

           I couldn’t see his face behind the smoked glass of his helmet, but I knew hewas smiling. The girl moaned through her gag, but there was no danger. Iignored her, focused my mind instead, touched that strange power inside me.

           Brian twirled the remote like he was stirring a drink.

           “I’m waiting.”

*

          I take scraping steps up the stairs. Rats and roaches scuttle from my feet, butthey’re in no danger: I’m harmless now. The only light is from the cracked sputtering yellows that are still burning for reasons unknown. It smells like mildew and mold. It smells old. My tears are sucked up by the hungry grime on each step. This is a condemned building.

           There’s a vagrant on the fifth landing wrapped in a filthy green jacket. He lifts his head up from the cardboard box and blinks gunk from his eyes.

           “Hero?”

           “There is no hero here.”

*

           I moved.

           Brian hit his remote, expecting me to have the girl untied and clear before theshot left the barrel. Easy. Until I reached for my power and found empty space. Without warning, I was a man again. 

           There was a red cloud that glowed from the sun, a mars-colored cloud, perfectly round like the planet. The girl sagged in her restraints and I looked away because I had never seen violence like that before.

           Brian choked on his words.

           “I. I. You were supposed to.”

           He took tiny steps backward, away from the girl.

           “You were supposed to save her.”

           I fell to one knee and threw up. My ears didn’t ring because the wide blue skyhad swallowed up all the noise. The smoked glass of Brian’s face mask was speckled with blood, making it look like some kind of exotic egg. As I kneeled,his je tpack fired up, the low whine steadily building. The girl remained dead.

           I fumbled with my grappling hook, thinking to catch him and pull him back and make him pay. But my hands didn’t work, because I’m not really a hero. I watched him float above me and shake his head once and dart away to some other place. The white trail from his jet dissolved, leaving no trace.

           I untied the girl and laid her body on the gravel rooftop.

           Then I sat there for a while.

*

           I’m almost to the top now. Even though I haven’t been counting floors, I know the top is near. Everything has a fine layer of unbroken dust. Most of the trash has trickled down to lower levels, leaving my path clear.

My breathing comes faster; my cruel mind shows me the cloud of blood, how it seemed to hover in place for a single second before scattering in the wind.

I’m through the rooftop access and the sky is as blue and beautiful as it was a few hours ago. I think about how I don’t have to do this, how even heroes make mistakes. But now I’m just a man, and a man shouldn’t have to live with this kind of guilt. She was an honor student, two weeks from graduating with a full swimming scholarship. Her name was Allison.

The streets are empty on this side. I’m twenty stories up. This is selfish, going out this way. But I’ve always wanted to fly and my foot is on the edge now so I might as well go before I think about it too much.

Wind roars in my ears and my eyes gush tears and I feel a little bad.

I see the kidnapping ten stories through my decent. A black van with black windows and three men trying to drag a female into the side door. She struggles. She kicks and bites and punches. But they’re men; they’re strong. I watch for another story and wonder who is going to save her.

But of course I know.

My grapple gun is in my hands. The sun is a white-hot marble reflected on its mirror finish. The hook explodes skyward with a beautiful sound––suh-TING––and catches on the edge of the roof. The cord twangs, pulls tight. That’s also a beautiful sound.

I swing over the street and land on top of the van, blowing out the black glass.

I was never one to take the easy way out.

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