[ WP ] Your coworker is completely convinced you are a superhero . She stalks you like the worst fan girl ever . The only problem is you 're not a hero - you 're a villain . And she 's really starting to get in the way of your work .

At first, I thought it might be a good thing. Being mistaken as Ultragirl, the naive do-gooder worshipped by the citizens of New York, was the best compliment my civilian persona could get. 
 
 “ How do you get it so shiny? ” Melissa asked, running her hands through my long blond ponytail. “ With all that flying around, you ’ d think it would get tangled. ” 
 
 I patiently said, “ Melissa, my hair isn ’ t tangled because I don ’ t fly around fighting crime. ” Actually, I fly around committing crimes, and I do so with a practical short haircut. I wanted so badly to yank my head away from my nosy coworker, but the hair she so admired was a wig. The last thing I wanted was my disguise falling off in front of civilian witnesses. 
 
 “ Then why haven ’ t I ever seen you two in the same place? ” Melissa asked in a sing-song voice. She tugged on my ponytail like we were old chums. 
 
 “ That ’ s true, Casey, ” said my manager, Ben. “ You never do want to go super-watching with us. ” 
 
 “ Maybe that ’ s because I prefer to stay away from danger, ” I grumbled, “ instead of towards it, like you loonies? Besides, all the best super fights take place in Manhattan. Find me a fight in Queens and I ’ ll be there. ” 
 
 “ We ’ re going to meet at our usual spot at five, ” Melissa said. “ Steer any baddies our way! Good luck! ” 
 
 At five on the dot, I punched Ultragirl through the wall of the “ usual spot ”, a kitschy Americana sportsbar hawking overpriced Scandinavian beer. Ultragirl emerged from wreckage draped in a Wayne Gretzky jersey. The bars patrons poured onto the street, pint glasses in hand. 
 
 “ You ’ ll never get away with this, Necromancer! ” shrieked Ultragirl, as my army of undead poured through the streets, eating people and blocking traffic. 
 
 “ That ’ s what you think, ” I said, attempting to keep up the banter. But my focus was distracted—where was Melissa? There—by the lamppost, focused on recording this battle for snapchat. I aimed my zombie ray at her and fired without hesitating. Normally, I only zombified criminals, politicians, and the chronically tardy, but Melissa had pushed me too far. 
 
 Ultragirl dove in front of the beam, deflecting it off her shield harmlessly into space. Then she picked Melissa up in her arms and carried her to “ safety ” on the roof of an apartment building down the block. 
 
 I fired up my jet boots. If I didn ’ t kill Melissa now, she ’ d be even more insufferable tomorrow. Really, this was all Ultragirl ’ s fault.
