The foggy umbra of a city far from sleep lay spread out before me. In all those old superhero movies, there was always the edgy “hero” posted on a rooftop, watching the people he had chosen to protect, and posing like a badass. I remember a time where I would have envied that hero like most anyone else. Now, not so much.

But after everything this world has endured, everything I have, I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. The emergence of the Awakened almost burned the world to ash. We oohed and ahhed at the fantastical things we saw, ripped right out of films, comics, and our wildest dreams. Until a man made of molten rock drowned Chicago in a lake of fire. Until a woman the size of an ocean liner, sunk half of the eastern seaboard into the ocean. When a child of 5 years old threw a tantrum so violent that it killed millions and turned most of the central United States into the Grand Canyon 2: Apocalyptic Boogaloo.

But against all odds, we survived. Back in the old days, they would have called that a miracle. But that was before miracles became commonplace. Back when people prayed for one every day, instead of praying that they could survive one more day without being subjected to another “miracle”.

But it’s not all bad. It never is, and that’s a life lesson that took an apocalypse, and a cosmic amount of irony, to sink in. We may have lost contact with most of the world when Activation occurred. But focusing on ourselves for a while hasn’t been the worst thing.

Ignoring the despotic warlords warring in the streets to claim the entire tri-state area as their “domain”, the tribal groups of sentient ex-zoo animals ruling what’s left of Manhattan, and the roving groups of cannibalistic electrokinetics running people down on their self-powered motorcycles like twisted ghost-riders in what used to be central park.

Just another day in New York, post-Activation.

My name is Adrian, but people around here know me as Void. I’ve been around for a while. As in pre-Activation. That was almost a century ago now, and I’d like to think that I look pretty good for my age. Something about my abilities stopped me from aging, unlike everyone else. Most everyone else, anyway.

I reach out with my power and slip into the shadows behind me, emerging an instant later out of the shadows of an alley below.

The first thing you need to know about life in this world of titans and self-proclaimed dark gods is that things don’t abide by the laws of the old world anymore. And I don’t just mean the laws of physics, or the literal “legal” laws. Haha, yeah no, we don’t have those anymore.

I mean reality. And “reality”, is whatever men and women like Apotheosis and Nirvana feel like making it today. And I mean that literally. Fucking worldshapers man, god damn. Then there’s the whole monster thing. See, whatever manifested all of us world destroying bastards into being, didn’t stop there. It decided that the world needed more horrible shit in it.

Now, even on a good day, you can just be going along with your day trying, for some ungodly reason, to fish some dinner out of the Hudson. Next thing you know, a two-legged fish the size of a small dog, but with biceps way bigger than whatever you might claim to have down there, decides that this time YOU get to be dinner.

But hey, that’s where I come in. I slip through the shadows and next thing you know tenebrous blades of inky darkness sprout from my own shadow, turning that scaly little fuck into sushi. You’re welcome.

At least that’s how it was. But then THEY showed up. Some busted ass Costco brand Justice League wannabes calling themselves The Saviors. I know right, fucking pretentious pricks. They came to bring “order” and “law”. But how do you bring that shit to a place where even the trees try to turn your ass into a light snack.

I know, a lot of things trying to eat people, very obvious. But trust me, when you think that the last thing you will ever see is someone being stuffed into a demonic tree’s mouth and seeing their arm being severed by pulpy wooden teeth as they scream for help and try to reach for the outside world one last time, everything else falls by the wayside in terms of worries.

Anyway, that particular bit of ever-burning nightmare fuel aside, I now find myself out of a job. Kind of. See, when the newbies rolled into town, they found it every bit as difficult to pull off the impossible as one would think. One being me, obviously. So, they decided to try and whip the local Activated into shape and form some kind of super-powered police force.

Now, I have standards. But as New York’s most well-respected hero, I decided to do them the favor of throwing my hat in that ring. Be the Costco Batman to Sentinel’s Costco Superman and all that. But then they fucking rejected me. Apparently, I didn’t pass their “psychiatric evaluation”.

“Narcissistic tendencies, acute schizophrenia and occasional complete disassociation from reality.”

So, because I believe in myself more than they do and occasionally talk to people who aren’t there, they branded me as a liability. You try living for a century in this world, never aging, and stuck watching everyone you love die to overgrown nightmare shrubberies and other horrible bullshit, and see if you don’t come out the other side a little less than sane.

I step through the shadows once more and find myself atop another grungy rooftop. I was here before they even bothered to turn their golden merciful gaze on this city, which was doing just fine without them, by the way. Mostly.

Okay so, they got the power up and running again. Whatever, we did fine without electricity for almost eighty years. The water? Tastes like irradiated flop sweat, but sure it’s on, I guess. The Volt gang…fine I’ll give them that one. Less cannibal bikers is a win for everyone, I suppose. But the whole turning central park into a community garden thing was all ego on their part.

Anyway, you might think that I took it a bit hard. Being that the only thing keeping me going is trying to help out where I can. You would be wrong. I took the news with dignity and grace. And then I put Sentinel’s statue through a shadowy blender.

I mean come on! The fucker has only been here for like six months and already has a statue?! I’ve been here for decades! Where is my statue?! Not that I need one, obviously. I’m not nearly as vain as that unbreakable bastard. If only his statue had been as unbreakable.

I chuckle to myself as I step from shadow to shadow, making my way towards the city proper. My completely understandable lapse in judgement aside, I decided that regardless of their unattainable expectations, I am still more than capable of doing what I’ve always done. Protecting the people of New York.

And when I found out that an invading team of so-called “supervillains” calling themselves the Doom-Walkers had moved into my city, well how could I not do my civic duty.

When a body came crashing down through a skyscraper window, broken and bloodied, did I hesitate? Of course not. When I realized that the broken man in front of me was the unbreakable Scion of the Skies, THE Sentinel himself, did I stop for even a moment?

Nope.

After all, it wouldn’t be the first time that I’ve died. Immortality is a bitch. Did I not mention that? Ah well.

What’s the worst that could happen?

It was time to call it a day

When the sunlight stole away

Blocked by the Moon

Not a minute too soon

Sure as night and day both stay

It was time to call it a night

When the day closed in up tight

Intersecting all wrong

With a sunset at dawn

To send us away in a fright

It was time to call it a life

When I took my lessons from strife

A star and a moon run amuck

Sounded the chord that duly struck

And cut to my soul with a knife

Totality's a ruse, it seems

Like the fleeting plot lines of my schemes

All shadows pass

When mass passes mass

And I await my returning life's dreams

_______________

And so ends a year's worth of Limericks-a-Week.

What better way to wrap the Limerick year up than with one about the recent total eclipse?

A lit candle is a relative thing

The burning stub of a wick

The present fueled by wax and string

The future drilled down the candlestick

My eyes leave the wick aflame

Travel down the cylinder

Within which, is future, constrained

Until I can go no farther

From the flame of the present

To the dry wick lying in wait

The future, twice as incessant

If the other end burns at the same rate

From: WSQPA

To: Mr. Baruch/Benedictus Spinoza, philosopher

April 10, 2024

Dear Mr. Spinoza,

Stop.

Do not bother us again.

We, the Board of the World Status Quo Protection Agency, reject your unsolicited critique of our twenty-first century.

You were the seventeenth century’s problem. Not ours.

How dare you ask questions and seek to arrive at beliefs and truth individually through reason. Citizens today have banded together in groups to hear the truth and facts from sources that comport with their worldview. We have no need of philosophers in 2024.

Thus, our status quo is groupthink.

Yes, our groups clash and there are wars that are political, spiritual, and militaristic. But they are part of our status quo.

You are free in your ivory tower to sneer at our way, and claim we are pursuing false “knowledge from random experience.” It is no wonder that you were excommunicated for your radical ideas.

We know that you worked with lenses for microscopes and telescopes. But you have no right to put our status quo under your microscope.

Warmly,

WSQPA

I can't believe it! I nailed the interview. The guy had no more questions for me after only 15 minutes. I made him laugh. I made him agree with me. My resumé, he said, was "sterling." And there was only one other candidate in the waiting room with me when I was called in. Slim pickings. How hard was it to beat out only one other guy? And look at him! He looked like a homeless guy. Smelled of alcohol. Tertiary smoke exposure stinking up the whole room. Shiny clothes that could stand up by themselves.

When I left my interview, exchanging with the other guy, I didn't leave. I re-sat. I wanted to see how long it'd take before the guy was thrown out on his ass. I wanted to hear the yelling that was certainly forthcoming.

Ten minutes went by. Twenty. An hour. I heard the man--the deciding man--laughing uproariously. Could this be happening? Was this guy his son or another relative?

I heard chairs shuffling and then the door opened. The "man," the deciding man, had one hand on the doorknob of the door he was opening and the other in a firm handshake with they guy.

"Then, Monday?" the man, the goddamn deciding man, asked, to confirm.

"I'm looking forward to it," the disheveled, stinky, dirty miscreant said through what few teeth he still had in his head.

The man, the fucking deciding man, returned to his office, closing the door behind him. Mr. Homeless walked over to me and held out both his palms, an announcement of expectations realized. Like, what'd you expect?

"Congratulations," I offered tersely and got the hell out of there.

At the bus stop, I melted into the bench, sorting out my loser life. Would I ever get a decent job. I gave up the one I had because I knew I could do better. Could I? Ever?

That's when he--the same guy--plopped down on the bench with me.

"Sorry for your loss," he offered.

"Who died?" I asked sarcastically.

"You, a little bit, don't you think?"

"Great. I have a philosopher here. Harvard?"

"No. Y'know, school of hard knocks."

"I know that school," I scoffed. "I plan to pledge a fraternity there."

"Need something to lighten the mood?" he asked.

"Not unless you're declining that job. I'd be happy to take your place as next in line."

"No chance. But here's a little joke..."

Murder was still illegal, so I just said, "I'm listening."

He pulled out a cracked mirror from his soiled coat's pocket and held in front of my face.

"That's me," I said, waving away his mirror.

"That's the joke. You're the joke. But it's a joke you'll never get." He paused, then said, "You can start laughing any time."

So, I did. Why? Why did I laugh? It was funny, that's why. Very funny. I was a big joke. I just had never gotten to the punchline yet.

"Thanks for the giggle," I said, but I had tears in my eyes.

"Know what? I'm gonna by you a drink. You could use one." He rose and offered his hand to help me up.

"Sure can," I said. "Why not," I said in resignation.

We both stood up and began to walk across the street toward the bar on the corner there.

A homeless guy and an imposter walk into a bar...