I can't see through walls. I can't fly. I can't play a superhero or supervillain. I can't bend space-time or invoke magic. I can't run mercurially; I'm no speedster, scarlet or otherwise.

Speeding bullets would easily catch me. I can't leap over even traffic cones, let alone tall buildings, let alone in single bounds. I can't afford to erect a fortress of solitude or its heating bill.

Evil can easily escape my sight, my lantern's light. Bizarros don't seem bizarre to me. I'm no crusader, caped or otherwise. I will never be dynamic, in a duo or otherwise. I am in no league; I don't avenge; I'm not fantastic. When I look for the Bifröst, I only see a rainbow. My only X is on my chromosomes.

I was born under a yellow sun. I am ridiculously vulnerable, ordinary, and have no behavioral escape from my mild mannered ways.

My superpower is my humility, and I'm in love.

"Ey, moron I'm home," Shibuya called having taken off his shoes at the stoop of their apartment like a normal person. No second pair of boots or the respectable shined shoes he wore for tax purposes. Fucking heathen.

"Yo where are you? Is dinner on this time?"

Sure it happened to be his own turn but that was hardly the point. "Hey come on answer at least. You said I could expect you home tonight. No more trouble."

Flinging his bag on the couch Shibuya set to work on finding that deadbeat older brother of his.

Peeking in one hall, all dark. The doors still locked. Else they would be spread ajar in rapid succession. Turned into an impromptu office and negotiator party.

And to the right was another hall, this one shorter and with a wall connected set of stairs leading to the upper atrium.

Here was just one door. Made of steel and with a wheel to turn it open rather than a knob. Better yet, the probe was red indicating much like a porta potty that grisly business was going on.

Shibuya was more concerned with having katsudon after a soul smashing day at high school with annoying sheep and uptight moralizing freaks.

Grinding open the room had been transformed, each and every dirty skeleton out to see. Stolen jewels and oddity necklaces and brooches, counterfits of artwork or were the ones in the Mass Swiss museum the fake ones? And better yet the torture slab all nice and pretty with a hero tied to it.

A hero with dazzling silvery eyes wide and begging for rescue. Or, just to not be seen.

"Shio!" his brother squawked, making a frightfully ridiculous deep, raked coals of a voice. "What-- what are," clearing off the pretense, "you doing?"

"Its five, school is out and I have no social life."

Was said pointedly. To no one in particular. Really.

"Oh right, right," he replied, "mmm okay I can leave this for--"

"Forget it. I bet you forgot groceries anyway or made the dumb decision to go out in that cosplay you call a "villain suit," and now this poor kid had to work extra hours before his keepers let him go home," he scoffed, "honestly. Besides, you never make the katsudon right."

Not to mention the big bad Walking Death had awkward conversations with the stove.

"Hot as fuck for you Takada?" Shibuya asked.

"Of course. You're an angel you know that?"

"Yeah, yeah, oh and I'll crack open that awful mac and cheese for the guest."

"What the-- no!" he finally spoke. And here Shibuya had been led to believe constant villain attacks had left him brain dead. "Help me out of here! He's the one wrong here and can't even bother to greet you each day which wow--"

"Tired now. Goodbye. Oh and no desert for either of you."

And Takada crumpled.

Shibuya simply closed the door.

Nope, didn't see a damn thing.

INT. WAITING ROOM. DAY-

A grey haired woman sits on a couch facing the camera talking head style (When Harry Met Sally inspired).

Violet

When people ask, and they don't as much anymore, I usually say I'd imagine life is a lot slower for me. A lot simpler. I go grocery shopping, I knit, I have time to have my routines. I honestly feel a little bad for these spandex-ed freaks. I say that with love of course, if anyone's the freak, it's me.

CUT TO:

INT. GROCERY STORE. DAY-

Violet at the grocery store. She drops a cucumber and before it can touch the ground, twelve masked superheroes super speed to catch it, accidentally running into each other and crushing the cucumber.

Violet nearly falls over before they all catch her.

Violet (VO)

Yeah, it can get a little annoying sometimes. Since all these weirdos were born with immortality, I'm pretty much a God to them. They all stayed 22 years old while I grew up. I think the group created to protect me has gotten a little out of hand, however.

CUT TO:

EXT. BURNED DOWN CHURCH. DAY-

Hordes of spandex-ed superheroes wearing the letters "HPV"shout and scream at a group of other spandex-ed superheroes wearing the letters "HIV".

Violet (VO)

I don't understand why the Help Protect Violet group can't convince the Help Insurrect Violet group to stop burning down churches. I'm Jewish for Christ sakes.

CUT TO:

INT. WAITING ROOM. DAY-

Violet looks down at her hands.

Violet

I've always seen myself as the lucky one. Everyone else has this idiotic need to prove themselves and I'm just Violet. Always have been always will be.