Phoenix Part 7

Shortly after the Dark Decade of the New Wave. Millions of dollars got used to fund the research behind superpowers. That data became more and more distinct through the generations until it finally boiled down to one principle question asked by philosopher Brian Mynd.

"Does our power influence us, or is it our actions?"

Long after his death, this question gripped our society by storm, with everyone having a different answer to the damning question. Either way, I guess you can say I was immune to the inclination because I genuinely did not see any purpose behind my power. Unfortunately, though, everyone else did. So it didn't matter what the context or inclination was; it was always the same.

"Damn, with that power, I bet you would be a sick villain; maybe they call you the blockinator or something."

"Damn, that's your power? You're so lucky you can be such a great hero with it? You sure you're interested."

"Hey, you think you can use your power for a little bit? I promise I'll pay you if you can keep the bullies off me."

Time and time again, people would make other offers or suggestions based purely on my power. Like somehow, I was supposed to let something I gained by chance dictate how I should live my life. From then on, I became a social outcast, basically seeing bs coming from a mile away and refusing any call that I could see. Until you came into the picture, that is.

The world seems just to define you as Omna, but to me, you were and will always be the plucky, eczema rampant high school girl known as Victoria Prince: the powerless daughter of the world-famous heroes Goliath and Temptress.

Of course, that didn't mean that I didn't have my own bias. Before we even met appropriately, I always heard of her tall tales. Because despite her powerlessness, she always somehow became the talk of the school. So it was no surprise when I first saw her in a fight in the hallway. She was outnumbered 3 to 1 with some bullies that would even give me some trouble, but she didn't bother to back away in the slightest.

"Don't you guys have anything better to do than pick on your classmates? You shouldn't be messing with Timothy just because of something he can't control."

"If Tiny Tim has a problem with it, then he'll speak up about himself. He doesn't need a babysitter to fight his battles for him."

"Yeah, well, I guess you could say that it's in the family business to do just that," she said with a daring smile.

After that, I didn't even bother to stick around, knowing full well what would happen. However, what surprised me was Victoria dragging her bandaged body towards me during lunchtime.

Despite the apparent defeat in her eyes, she still managed to exchange some pleasantries.

"Hey, my name is Victoria. How are you doing?"

From there, we naturally gravitated towards each other, engaging in aimless conversations, keeping her at arm's length and waiting for the eventual question—the call, the question that boils me down to nothing more than a simple ability. Apathy eventually turned into annoyance as one day, while we were walking on the streets of the fast-moving upper levels, back when the air routes for crafts still were brand new and strange.

"You know, maybe I should try and come up with some kind of self-defense club for the weaker classmates. I know my way around a couple of self-defense classes, and I could teach them a thing or two. What do you think, Julia?" she said ambitiously.

"I think that you should worry about yourself. You're just making yourself an easier target for those bullies. But when has my opinion ever stopped you?"

"Well, if I did worry about myself, I wouldn't be a hero now, would !? So let them come then; I'm not afraid to stand up for the little guy; it seems like I'm the only one who can. And hey, don't get it twisted your opinion does matter to me Julia, after all, we are friends, right?"

"Yeah, but are you even a hero? Are we even friends?" I said in a mix of doubtful and accusatory tones.

But before she could answer said question, Tori moved me out of the way, darting towards the street below and diving to a toddler who was inches away from meeting a clumsy pickup truck. She managed to pull through and save them both in the literal last moment while landing in a heap. I rushed to her side in alarm, noticing the deep gash on her right arm.

However, she didn't bother noticing it, as all her attention focused on the crying child, eventually getting him to calm down as their parents soon caught up with their child. And through her face, I saw something that I hadn't seen for a lot of my life: compassion.

The compassion that cared more for their fellow man than even themselves, without a hint of reward. It was something that I just didn't see in people here in Krimo. Of course, we see heroics so much every day, but this felt like the real deal. And just like that, my power suddenly had a purpose. Before a crowd of people could invade, I drew out a little flying platform for us and carried us to a nearby hospital.

"Thank you; I know you didn't have to do that."

"Why wouldn't I? We're friends, aren't we?"

From then on, we were as inseparable as you could get as I decided to protect those who protect others. But I guess I was never truly good at my job. After that event, I saw the signs and the stress Victoria put on herself and the lengths she was willing to go but kept quiet.

I thought she could handle it, too faithful in her ideals even to realize the cracks forming. But, unfortunately, I got so trapped in her larger-than-life ideals that I somehow forgot that she was still as human as the rest of us. Maybe if I did my job, stood up to my purpose, Omna would've never happened. Maybe if I trained myself harder, I wouldn't be seeing a deadly projectile coming towards me with no strength left to counter.