[ WP ] Your superpowers are actually only mediocre at best , but you keep up with all the other superheroes because you have a BS degree and can exploit the hell out of what you do have .

Our world is made up of numbers. 
 
 For instance, take Malcolm. He's been my best friend since I was thirteen, when our powers first manifested and we were snatched up by the government. We studied at the same high school, kept in contact throughout our time in university. The reason I liked him was n't because he was particularly friendly, or interested in the same things I was, or even because - when we first met - we were the same age and in identical situations. 
 
 No, the reason I liked Malcolm as a friend was how plain he was. When your vision is bombarded with numbers, statistics, calculations, it's difficult to focus. So many people are outliers in something, which my abilities made me painfully aware of, and so finding someone incredibly... *normal*, was a huge boon for stabilizing my psyche at that age. 
 
 I suppose Malcolm would n't take that as I positively as I did. 
 
 In fact, that was rather likely, looking at him right now. People, on average, liked to feel that they were special. That something about them was better than others, or unique. Telling someone that they *weren't* unique - that they were baseline, just another person in a world of billions, did n't usually produce a positive reaction. And, well... Anything that people'usually' did was almost certainly something Malcolm would do. 
 
 Other than fly and shoot lasers. In all fairness, he did have *that* going for him. 
 
 The numbers were sparse at this height. No, I was n't flying, and nor was I being hoisted through the air by an ally - an experience I did *not* want to repeat. Instead, we were perched on the top of a rather tall apartment building, staring out at the city. 
 
 I'd seen a lot of cities in my time. A standard deviation or two above the average. Most of them would sprawl, spreading out like an infection upon the land from one central point. 
 
 This one did not. It was painfully rigid, borders cleanly defined, roads straight and evenly spaced. A bizarre sight to see for most, made more disturbing through the knowledge of exactly why it had formed this way. I did n't particularly mind it, actually: the numbers worked so perfectly, all in harmony with one another. 
 
 Coincidentally, the same'why' was the reason we were here. Alvin Green, A.K.A. The Ordinator. The villain in control of this city, melding reality with his mind to fit his expectations. Just getting in without being erased had been difficult. 
 
 Thankfully, everyone has to sleep, and figuring out the villain's sleep patterns had been exceedingly simple for a man like me. 
 
 Malcolm poked me, his super-strength enhanced finger causing more discomfort than I would have liked to admit. `` You figured it out yet, dude? We're on a tight timeline here, in case you did n't realize.'' 
 
 I was painfully aware, as he should have known. `` Yes. The city, the numbers... the rigidity spreads out from a certain point. That building.'' I pointed with one hand, not exactly at where the building was, but where I needed to point to have Malcolm see the correct building. 
 
 `` The one with the kind of red bricks and clean windows?'' 
 
 `` Yes.'' Maybe. Probably - it made sense, but I could n't see nearly as far as Malcolm did, so I just relied on the numbers. 
 
 `` I see him. He's in bed, like you said. Let's take care of this and get out of here, this place creeps me out.'' 
 
 An average reaction, unlike mine. There was something... *beautiful*, in the way it all fit together, the numbers coalescing into perfection as they thrummed in my mind. 
 
 A thought rushed through my mind. *Kill Malcolm, stay here. * 
 
 No. It was n't a good idea. Chances were that they'd come after me, and they'd succeed. 
 
 He grinned at me, and I smiled tightly, watching as he demolished the building from an unbelievable distance away. 
 
 *Maybe next time. * 
 
 ^^^^more ^^^^stories ^^^^on ^^^^r/forricide
