[ WP ] Write a story about a person with a superpower that has a consequence/limitation more interesting than said power .

`` So essentially,'' Mr. Kramer concluded. `` Nature tends toward chaos. In other words, things do n't build themselves up -- they break down over time.'' 
 
 Ray had not been paying attention up to that point. Nothing unusual there. The young eighth grader's apathy toward school was clearly reflected by the numerous doodles on the work he turned in. `` What is the formula that relates force to mass and acceleration?'' Why, two stick figures sword fighting while the crude contour of a scantily-clad prize-woman spectates next to question two, of course. 
 
 `` Ray!'' Mr. Kramer sternly gripped the boy's attention.'' 
 
 `` *Shit. *'' Ray thought to himself. 
 
 `` In your own words, could you repeat what I just told the class?'' 
 
 `` Um -- so, basically, like -- nature builds up, and uh, then chaos, like you know, the chaotic nature, uh like, breaks. Over time.'' The boy's wandering mind fumbled around trying to piece together what he had heard in his peripheral like an incompetent secretary hulling heaps of cluttered papers. Old Peaches and Krame sighed through his thick, scraggly mustache. Certainly not the first time Ray had dragged out such a reaction from his teachers. 
 
 `` That is the exact opposite of what I said. At least I think it is. Nature does *not* magically build itself up, it breaks down. Order becomes disorder, and it takes a lot of work to make it work the other way around. You see Jenga blocks fall down on their own, not assemble themselves into a structured tower, right?'' 
 
 `` Stranger things have happened.'' murmured a voice from the back that barely broke through. The small, brisk voice came from under the sweatshirt hood of the quiet girl who had always sat in the back. No one knew her name except Kramer, and even he could barely remember. Being the first time anyone had really heard the girl talk, an awkward tension overtook the room for a few cold moments. Luckily, the bell rang not long after. Ray, of course, wasted no time in making his escape while the teacher was distracted by whats-her-face. The boy nearly skipped his way out of the room with crumpled papers in hand, some falling to the ground and trailing behind him. 
 
 Along with the rest of the troupe, the quiet young girl trotted out the door. On her way out, she picked up a few of Ray's papers, admiring his ever so masterful depictions of Darth Vader playing drums and a dragon burning down question seven. She could n't help but grin at the juvenile scrawlings. Peering up at Ray, now distant at the other end of the hall, she was suddenly overtaken by a strange inspiration. Something about that strange young man that practically bled with apathy called out to her. It was the first time in her life that such a feeling had struck her, but it was strong. It was a siren's song that she could n't ignore, and so she set her mind to do something she had n't done in years -- make a new friend. 
 
 
 The ancient swing creaked above Ray as he gently thrust his legs back and forth in a mindless, autonomous motion. After school, he would always venture to the local playground near his house to sit on the swing set and play his Game Boy while his stacks of undone homework practically pushed a hole through the hypothetical ceiling. The bottom of his shoes brushed against he chips of wood -- or whatever they were -- below him. He was too distracted by his game to give it much thought, but his subconscious could n't help but remember a time when his tiny, kindergarten feet did n't even reach the ground on that very swing. Ray was a creature of habit. For as long as he could remember, he had been going to the same park, sitting on the same swing, pattering away at the buttons of the same Game Boy. He remembered a time when he was n't the biggest kid at the park, when other kids his age would actually sit next to him on the swing set. He supposed the first graders were a little off-put by the presence of a `` big kid'' on their turf. They did n't understand why he did n't put down his Game Boy like the rest of his friends and go chase girls and yucky stuff like that. In the back of his mind, Ray wondered about that too. He sometimes wondered what would happen if he put down the Game Boy and went out and struck a conversation with one of his peers. But, ever a man of integrity, Ray always reverted back to his life's philosophy: *meh. * 
 
 The sounds of the screeching swing mingled with the static-laden beeps and boops of his classic Game Boy. Sweet sounds of nostalgia to Ray, sounds he practically bathed in everyday after school -- sounds soon polluted by the distant chatter of a few familiar voices. They were distant, but Ray knew they were coming. He had n't looked around to notice that the park was empty today, which meant one thing -- Trevor. 
 
 Whenever the local park was empty -- usually every Monday -- the friendly neighborhood eight grade psychopath Trevor would come to finalize the various transactions he had made throughout the week with his humble weed selling enterprise. He was quite the young entrepreneur in spite of his rotting teeth and animalistic bursts of rage. Having at least ( or most ) half a brain, Ray opted to get the hell out of dodge before Trevor and his crew of eighties movie bullies showed up to cause some trouble. He only had so much time, though. The heralding sounds of `` no way, dude!'' and `` fuckin' sick, bro!'' were fast approaching. 
 
 Ray started toward his house, walking as fast as he could without looking like a coward running for his milk money, which was essentially what he was doing. Just as he thought he was in the safety zone where Trevor could n't smell him out, Ray heard the gut-wrenching utterance of `` hey! Ai n't he that fuckin' faggot kid who plays a Game Boy at the park?'' Ray cocked his head behind him to see how close the Cobra Kai had gotten. Still walking, though, the side of his head collided right with the bar of the jungle gym, followed by a thick thud against the ground. It did n't take long before Trevor and his posse were looming over the young boy's body. He was fine, but it was too late to spring back up to his feet now. 
 
 `` Well, well, well, what do we have here?'' Trevor said in the most cliche way imaginable. 
 
 Ray fought back the cringe he felt from Trevor's Hollywood bully douchebaggery and kept his mouth clamped the best he could. 
 
 `` What's this?'' Asked Trevor rhetorically, even though he would never learn would rhetorically means. `` Looks like an old Game Boy to me. I used to have one of these. When I was five!'' Trevor and his entourage burst into hysterics. 
 
 `` Hey! Do n't touch my shit, man! Come on!'' 
 
 `` Oh, you mean *this*?'' 
 
 Trevor yielded the Game Boy to gravity as he met it midair with the tip of his old, crusty boot. The Game Boy soared toward the jungle gym, ricocheting off one of the corner bars and shattering into fragments. Ray's face melted into despair. 
 
 `` What the hell, dude! I did n't even save!'' 
 
 Trevor and his buddies fell back into a fit of laughter. Not wanting to divert anymore time away from their business, the bullies walked back over to the other side of the playground to meet with their first client. They had to tarnish their professionalism by being late, after all. 
 
 Ray stared at the shrapnel hopelessly mingled with the playground's dirt and wood chips. He was flooded with the horror of losing all those years of memories in one second of senseless violence. Sitting up on the ground, his muscles gave way to the weight of defeat and let his back plummet to the wood chips. As he stared hopelessly into the sky, a shadow engulfed the sun above him, approaching as silently as it now stood looming. Ray's eyes flickered, trying to make out the details of the figure hidden in the shade of the figure. He barely assembled the puzzle enough to recognize her as the girl from his science class. He quickly stood up, soon feeling an eerie sensation wash over him. 
 
 `` Oh, uh, hey. You're, uh...'' Ray scrambled in his brain to find her name in his memory. 
 
 `` You dropped some of your papers.'' Said the girl, extending her sleeve-draped hand holding the worksheets that bore his timeless masterpieces. 
 
 `` Oh. Um, thanks.'' 
 
 The girl diverted her gaze to the shattered Game Boy. `` I'm sorry about your game.'' 
 
 Ray sighed. `` It's alright, I guess. Nothing I can do about it now. Just sucks that I probably have to play catch or some shit as an excuse not to do my homework now.'' 
 
 Silent, the girl walked over to the remnants of Ray's handheld. She stooped down slowly, in a creepy, mechanical way. Ray steadily creeped around to the side at a distance to see what she was about to do. Steadily, the girl inhaled, more so than usual, like she was about to blow out birthday candles. A few strange, suspenseful moments after she had reached the apex, she released her deep breath onto the ground where the Game Boy had crashed. At first, nothing happened. Ray did n't think he could be even more off-put by this girl, but she managed to raise the bar. 
 
 Just as Ray was about to back away and head for the hills, not wanting any weird voodoo shit on his head, he saw the bits of plastic and circuitry crawl toward one another. Bit by bit, Ray watched every little trinket and component reassemble itself into its original spot. The circuits realigned, the batteries reverted into their proper spots, and even the crack in the screen sealed back up as if it was never there. Finally, Ray saw the beaming scarlet eye of the power light flicker back on, and the exact pixels that he had seen right before the system's destruction repopulated the screen. 
 
 Ray's jaw had practically fallen off its hinges. The girl stood up and offered the Game Boy back to its rightful owner. 
 
 `` H-how did you.... It's back to normal! You fixed it like magic!'' 
 
 `` Normal? I would n't say that. I did more than just fix it.'' 
 
 *To be continued... *
