[ WP ] You are a teenager with the ability to measure how `` Dangerous '' people are on a scale from 1 to 10 just by looking at them . A normal child would be a 1 , while a trained man with an assault rifle might be a 7 . Today , you notice the unassuming new kid at school measures a 10 .

“ So, I can see numbers; Between 1 and 6, as far as I can tell. It ’ s pretty weird. Pretty cool. A little annoying. They just sit there, hovering above everyone ’ s heads. I have no idea what they could possibly mean. Maybe it correlates with age, children typically have lower numbers, while seniors tend to range from 4 to 6. Maybe it has to do with knowledge. Politicians hover right around 6 most of the time. But like I said. No idea what they might be. ” 
 
 It was just your average Monday, alarm goes off and I roll out of bed; shower, eat, and get in the car. Off to school. I arrive at the local community college for my first class of the semester. In walks a kid, looks normal enough. A little heavy-set, glasses, graphic tee and a fedora; your basic nerd. Over his head is a bright orange 7. What the fuck? A seven? Oh well maybe he ’ s super smart. I ’ ll be sure to sit next to him during tests, I ’ m a bit of a slacker. 
 
 In walks the Professor a 5 hovers over his head, he gives fedora kid a funny look and says in a mocking voice “ Back again, ” the 7 turns to an 8 and then back again. I just watched someone have an idea. Cool. Class was okay. Uneventful, the Prof was a dick to Chris, a.k.a. Fedora kid, but who cares. 
 
 The day goes on normally, classes suck. As I ’ m walking back to my car I see Chris with a glowing red 8 over his head. I decide to sit in my car and watch him. A 7 has my curiosity, an 8 has my attention. He ’ s just standing there waiting, and I ’ m getting bored. I went home and was watching the news when I see my professors name pop up on the screen. Dead, killed by Chris. At that point I figured it out. Those numbers are how dangerous someone is. I wonder what Hitler ’ s number is? 
 
 Four years and one degree later, I ’ ve got my ability finely tuned. I can see numbers of people on television. It has to be live though. Recordings and photos are no good. I don ’ t know why but I can ’ t see my own number. It ’ s better that way I suppose. I don ’ t want to know if I ’ m an Angel or a demon. I ’ d just drive myself crazy. The president is a 7. Great. Not an orange 7 like Chris was, a gray 7. Which is basically a dickbag with power, not violent, but an instigator. I ’ ve seen a few more orange 7 ’ s, a few more red 8 ’ s. 8 ’ s are always red, always murderers. I had never seen higher. Until today. 
 
 Watching the news I see a big, brighter than the sun, 10. Flashing above the new head of the CIA. Big-ass-bunker-time. I ’ ve basically just been sitting in my bunker, following this guys every move. He ’ s the head of the CIA, so it ’ s not easy. Basically I have to wade through bullshit to find one relevant detail. I hear knocking on my door. I assume it ’ s mom, bringing me soup again so I open it up. Standing there in all his bulk, the director of the CIA. No guards. Just all by himself. This is it for me. I ’ m done. I shouldn ’ t have googled him. He smiles at me, walks in, and closes the door. I ’ m petrified. THERE IS A 10 IN MY anti-10 bunker! What the goddamn fuck?! He turns to me and says, “ So you think you know danger? ” 

