[ WP ] For the first time ever , a person is born with a genuine superpower . They proceed to live out their entire life without noticing or realizing it .

For Francis, the good had always gone hand-in-hand with the bad. He had spent his life trying his best to be a good person, or at least what he believed would be a good person. He realized now that he was n't really sure anymore. 
 
 When his mother left his dad, Francis had chosen to stay with him. His friends had all told him he was smart to stay with the rich parent, but that had n't been the reason, had it? At the time, he had told himself that his father needed him more. He did. Dad had been really bad at taking care of himself. Without his mother, someone had to be there to deal with dad when he was lonely and angry and... drunk. 
 
 But that did n't matter now. A couple years of putting up with his dad, and Francis had gotten into his dream school. Even with dirt SAT scores. He probably should n't have gone, in retrospect. That school was way too intense for him. Four and a half hellish years that tore away at him until all that was left was a raw mess of a human being. But, at least he got a degree. A degree and Helen. 
 
 Looking back, Helen was the best thing to come out of those years. But Francis knew that to find work, he would need to move to the east coast. His dad had some connections out there, so it made for his best chances. But Helen's gramps was sick. He knew Helen was torn. It was obvious. Move out east for the boyfriend? Or move back to your small hometown to spend what ended up being the last 14 months of her grandfather's life with him? Francis could n't force that decision on her. He did the only thing he could think of at the time. And so he moved out east alone. 
 
 Had it been worth it? He had found his dream job through one of his father's obscure connections that even his father had hardly remembered. At least it was what he had thought would be his dream job. Great starting salary, even better benefits. But his degree had n't prepared him as well as he thought it would. The workload was more than expected as well. He ended up working long hours, longer than most of the people in the office. His personal life, what little personal life he had, began to suffer. 
 
 So here he found himself. Years later, glaring out his high-rise window with the lights of the city glaring back. He took a last swig of scotch and let the glass fall to the floor. They'd clean the mess up in the morning. His apartment, spacious and modern, was empty except for him and shadows. The shirt whose sweat-stained collar clawed at the back of his neck day after day lay discarded on the bed beside him. He hated it. He hated them. All of them. What did they have that he did n't? He had sacrificed himself his entire life to help those around him: his parents, his friends, his girlfriends, his employees. He sacrificed *everything* for them. And what did he have to show for it? A high-paying job? A nice apartment? Nothing. He had nothing. Well, at least he had this. The weight in his other hand felt even lighter than the scotch glass had as he brought it to his lips. As he opened his jaw, a final tear squeezed its way out. *click* 
 
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 Over 99 % of the city's population died that day. Simultaneous heart failure. The country, the world, was swept into a panic whose effects would be felt for decades. Almost a century later, a man named Francis, classified: Subject XII, was identified as the source of the calamity. A man born with the power to manipulate fate, to make personal sacrifices and sacrifice'pieces of his soul' to warp probability and reality around himself. A man who researchers speculated could have possessed the most powerful ability yet known. What had he used it for?
