Discount Superhero

She walked into a room so big it could've hosted a World Cup final. Empty, except for a single pane of glass. On the other side of it, there he was—the trench coat-wearing, smug grin-having, bad-luck-bringer of a man—and that woman who always tagged along with him. And hey, some other people too, just hanging out, looking important. They were all crowded around some monitors, like they were trying to play Pokémon but with human subjects instead of cute creatures. Wonderful.

She felt like some kind of lab rat being observed through a one-way mirror. Like they were all waiting for her to grow an extra limb or start flying. "What are you doing now?" she called out, her voice echoing in the giant room.

No response.

"Hey! What's this? Silent treatment?" she shouted, louder this time. Still nothing. 

Fine,she thought, raising her fist toward the glass. Let's see how they like a little threat of violence.People always react to that. Turns out, nobody wants to get socked in the face anymore—what a world.

Finally, the man's voice crackled through a speaker. "We're going to test you for your powers."

She raised an eyebrow. "Test me? For what? My powers?" She stifled a laugh. Okay, Grandpa's finally lost it. First, he brings her to this creepy, deserted academy, fattens her up for three months like a turkey before Thanksgiving, then drugs her and lets her wake up in a hospital bed with zero explanation. And now he wants to test her for powers? Sure, because this was totally a Marvel origin story. 

She was about two seconds away from decking him again when he added, "The test begins... now."

Great. Could've given a bit more warning, she thought, just as three men and one woman entered the room behind her. Well, this escalated quickly.

Before she could ask what the hell was going on, the four strangers started sprinting towards her. What. The. Hell. Her body reacted on pure instinct—she turned and ran too. 

Now, here's the funny thing about running for your life: it's contagious. She had no idea why they were running at her, but her brain had no time for details. All it knew was they're running? I'm running too. Human survival instincts are wild like that.

But her pursuers were fast. Ridiculously fast. In seconds, they had her surrounded, closing in from every direction. One guy threw a punch, then another, and before she knew it, she was being whacked around like a piñata at a birthday party from hell.

"Fight back, like you did with Mr. B!" a woman's voice called out from behind the glass. 

Mr. B? Oh, you mean Smug-Face? Great. Now he's got a nickname.

But fight back? Against four people? She barely had time to process what was happening, let alone swing a punch! Panic welled up inside her. What was this? Some twisted Hunger Games simulation? Was she supposed to be Katniss now? 

For the first time in a long while, she felt the sting of tears at the back of her eyes. Not that she ever actually cried. That wasn't her style. But if there was ever a time to break her own no-crying rule, this might be it.

Just as she thought she was about to break—both physically and mentally—something snapped inside her. One of the men lunged at her, and without thinking, she swung. And landed a punch. 

He dropped like a sack of potatoes. And then another. And then another.

Only the woman was left standing. She blinked, looking at her fists like she didn't even know what they were attached to anymore. 

How did I just do that? How did I become so strong? No wait. Not strong, Fast.

Before she could even begin to answer that question, a voice crackled through the speaker again. 

"Test complete."

She stared at the glass, her heart still racing. What the hell just happened?

———————————————————————————————

She wasn't sure if it was the fatigue from fighting all those people, or the strange things happening to her body, but she fainted. 

Great, she thought, classic me, blacking out at the most inconvenient times. When she woke up, she braced herself for the inevitable full-body pain that was surely coming—after all, she had been punched, kicked, and tossed around like a rag doll. But when she glanced down, her knuckles—once bloodied—were perfectly fine. Her face was untouched, and the leg that had definitely been broken was... okay? 

How is that possible? She rubbed her eyes, wondering if she was still dreaming. Was I hallucinating? Did I just imagine that whole fight? And where was she? The sterile room didn't look familiar. Is this a hospital? An asylum? 

Just as her internal spiral started kicking into high gear—because naturally — the door swung open. And who should walk in but him. The last person she wanted to see, yet somehow, the sight of his trench-coat-wearing, smirk-bearing face brought an odd sense of relief. Wait, relief? Seriously? She mentally face-palmed. No way am I relieved by this guy's presence. He's literally the reason I'm in this mess!

But then she remembered—no, I chose this. It was like her brain and heart were playing ping pong with the blame. As she wrestled with her thoughts, the man strolled in, looking annoyingly calm, as always.

"So," he said, leaning casually against the wall. "What do you want to know now?"

She sat up in bed, still processing everything. "What was all that?" she asked, half-expecting some weird, mystical answer. "You said it was a test... of my powers. But, uh, is my power just getting punched by a bunch of people? Because, if so, not impressed."

The woman beside him, who had been silently standing there the whole time, suddenly snorted. Clearly, she found this all very amusing. "A funny one, this one," she said, trying (and failing) to stifle a laugh.

Oh good, glad someone's having fun.

The man raised an eyebrow at the woman before turning back to her. "You already know what your power is," he said. "You've felt it in your body. it was all there during the fight."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she said, frowning. "Powers? If you're trying to Jedi mind trick me, it's not working."

He raised that annoyingly perfect eyebrow again. "Really?"

"Fine!" she groaned. "I think I understand. Kind of. But, how? What am I? And why?"

"I told you we'd treat your cancer," he said, with that maddeningly calm tone. "But the thing is, when we treat diseases like yours, there are sometimes... side effects."

"Side effects?" she asked, narrowing her eyes. 

He nodded. "Sometimes the side effects are... beneficial. To you, to us, to the organization. Yours just happens to be—" He stopped mid-sentence, waiting for her to fill in the blank.

"Being fast?" she asked, half-joking, but also not really sure if she was wrong.

"Among other things," he said, not bothering to elaborate. Of course. He just left it hanging there like a bad cliffhanger. 

"Well, that's just great," she muttered. "Super speed. I'm basically a discount superhero now, got superpowers but I get to be Flash not even superwoman.

"You'll find out more during your training," he said, as if it was the most casual thing in the world. "Get some rest. You'll be transported to HQ tomorrow."

"HQ?" she asked, suddenly wary.

"Yes," he said, with a slight smile. "Where you'll officially begin your new life. Oh, and Q3 will be coming with you. He'll brief you on everything you need to know."

She groaned inwardly. Of course, Q3. The guy who called himself a "headhunted mafia grunt" was going to be her guide into this mess. Just when she thought things couldn't get weirder.

As the man turned to leave, she couldn't help but call after him. "Hey, so what would have happened if I hadn't passed your... tests?"

He paused in the doorway, glancing back with that damn smile. "Well let's be glad you didn't find out."

Oh, good. Nothing ominous about that.