There's A Villain In All Of Us

“Closing time! Finish up what you got and settle up!” the barkeep bellows. 

His booming voice sounds like a hurricane in my head, though perhaps that was the point when dealing with the drunken sort. I look around and there’s only a handful of us degenerates left. A pair of guys trying desperately to hit the dart board but the holes scattered around it indicate they haven’t had much luck. An older gentleman passed out in a booth, a pool of drool slowly building underneath his prickly chin. And a middle-aged lady letting loose to Barracuda, probably imagining herself as the third Wilson sister.

My eyes slowly gaze downward into the glass mug in front of me. The dark amber liquid sloshes around as I clumsily lift the mug. Most of the alcohol finds its way into my mouth, while the rest dribbles on my faded Metallica shirt. I let out a belch, then stumble my way toward the door.

“You better not be trying to sneak outta here without paying!”

The barkeep’s voice is earth-shattering and I slowly turn back to face him. Maybe it’s because of the eight pints of beer swirling in my stomach. Still, I never realized how terrifying he was—standing like a frost giant with a long salt-and-pepper beard, casually cleaning previously used glasses without breaking eye contact with me.

“Sorry, mate, lemme see what I got,” I say, slurring half my words. I dig into my pants pockets praying that these were the ones with cash. Fear begins to set in as my fingers find nothing but lint and maybe 35 cents. I smile gingerly at the barkeep, then before he can say or do anything, I sprint out of the door into the chilly night. I can hear the barkeep yelling a series of profanities that I hardly knew could be used in such a way but I wasn’t about to stop and ask him.

After running for what seems like ages, I slow to a comfortable walk. Good timing, too, as I feel the aftermath of hours of drinking rushing up my throat for revenge. My stomach did not agree with the sudden physical activity. Wiping my mouth, I think about all that hard work wasted.

God, I’m such a fucking loser.

I turn the corner and see my apartment building. The decrepit building basks in the moonlight with all its crumbling glory, giant chunks of brick and plaster scattered around it. Anyone seeing a place like this would think it was an abandoned building scheduled for demolition and not the home of roughly 50 tenants, most of which have practically nothing in their lives. And yes, that includes me. If only something “good” would happen in my life, maybe a pile of cash falling from the sky or bumping into a stranger with a life-changing opportunity. I don’t belong with these deadbeats that live here. They had their chances and threw them all away for drugs and alcohol. I’m not like them.

Aren’t I?

I take a deep breath and the cool air feels good. That and the sprinting sober me up to a more functional level. As I’m about to walk inside, a brilliant flash of emerald green light streaks overhead. It sounds like an airplane hissing through the black sky, shaking the ground beneath me. I cover my eyes against the blinding light but can barely make out a meteor flying above before it disappears in the distance.

Tiny green fragments sprinkle down and I open my palm to catch them. Like snowflakes, the green specks fall harmlessly into my palm and evaporate instantly. I look around and the streets are tranquil and undisturbed. Did nobody else hear or feel that? I began to question whether or not that meteor was even real or just another trick being played by the beer.

When I enter my apartment, I try flicking the light switch but it doesn’t work. Maybe the meteor was real and it tripped the breakers. Or, the breakers in this building are fighting on their last legs and usually have issues every other week. That makes more sense. Thankfully, the moonlight illuminates the dark apartment so I can safely navigate through the trash littered on the floor. For the hell of it, I click the TV remote to see if that’s working, and to my surprise, the 24-inch box comes to life. I plop on the noticeably rotting couch and flip through the channels until I stumble upon an old anime I remember watching as a kid. It’s the final showdown between the heroes and the villains. I always cheered for the villains, ironically of course, not because I actually agreed with their motives, although at times, could be compelling. But no, the villains typically had better powers. Simple as that.

“Imagine how great it would be to have powers,” I say out loud. I think about soaring through the clouds, lifting mid-sized SUVs, or firing laser beams from my eyes. I would be the ultimate crime fighter, stopping burglars from terrorizing innocent people or even saving cats from trees. While thinking about all the amazing things I’d do with my made-up powers, I feel a tingling sensation in my hand. Initially, I thought it was a warning that I might need to make a beeline to the toilet for another round of vomit Olympics, but I noticed my palm where the green specks landed start to glow.

Wait, my hand is glowing?

I blink a few times, half hoping that I’m not as sober as I thought I was, but the sensation courses down my arm and through the rest of my body. Panic begins to set in. What the hell is going on? I try to stand, but a spell of dizziness quickly sweeps over me and I collapse back on the couch. The room is spinning and splitting into different sections as if I’m looking through a pair of kaleidoscopes. Despite the darkness, colors start popping up until it consumes my vision. My breathing intensifies and the green glow has fully spread to every corner of my body.

Am I going to die?

- - - - - -

I wake up suddenly in a frenzied state but quickly recoil as the sunlight hits me in the face. As I sink into the couch, the drums inside my head begin their rendition.

“My god, my head is pounding,” I say, rubbing my side temples. Immediately, I think of the many pints of beer from the night before and I’m almost ready to blame my headache on that until I remember the green meteor. I stop rubbing my head and slowly turn my palm over. Not realizing I was holding my breath, I exhale when I don’t see anything noticeably wrong with it.

Was it all a dream?

I rise slowly from the couch and focus on my center of gravity. So far, so good. Nothing seems detached, overly muscled, or any swift onset of nausea. I try to lift the couch with one hand, but all I get is a strained back.

OK, we can rule out super strength. My back flares up and I wince with the newfound pain.

“And I suppose any powers that would deal with an enhanced physique,” I say rubbing my back. I sit back down on the couch and reality sets in.

I’m going crazy.

That’s the only explanation as to why I’m currently standing in the middle of my busted apartment trying to test out any potential superpowers. All because I hallucinated a flying green boulder in the sky after consuming half my body weight in alcohol. This is a new low, even for me. I need to pull myself together or I will end up like these deadbeats around here.

And that’s when I hear it.

“This coffee is disgusting, why is it so bitter? Whatever, say it’s good, this is like the third cup.”

My head erupts with pain and I lose my balance momentarily and force myself to take a knee on the ground. I massage my temples and slowly the pain subsides and I regain my senses.  

What coffee? Who’s trying what?

I look around hoping to see anyone, just something that would prove that I’m not losing my mind. To my dismay, the tiny apartment is empty except for me. I know I heard someone talking and the TV is turned off.

“She likes it! I was worried I mixed up the sugar again, but it must taste great by the look on her face!”

I scream in pain and grip my head in both my hands thinking it’ll blow at any moment and holding it might keep everything stable. But nothing’s stable about this excruciating pain. Or these voices. My mind is turning into slop, but I manage to focus on the last voice that broke into my head. It was a man, sounded a bit rough so he was probably older than me. There’s something familiar with the rapid fluctuations and I realize where I’ve heard that voice before.

Charlie from somewhere on the fourth floor. I ran into him last week during a fire drill and the whole building was evacuated. He kept going on about a new lady he was seeing and I just stood there and nodded. He didn’t seem to notice how little I cared about his love life. But why did I hear him just now?

And then it hits me. I’m not hearing voices.

I’m hearing thoughts. 

I sit back against the wall and let the realization set in. I chuckle at the thought of reading minds and then start laughing hysterically.

I can read minds!

Nobody could hide anything from me—no more lies or tricks. I would be all-knowing, and use my abilities to turn my life around. As my mind raced through the possibilities, I realized also the pain from before had vanished. I checked myself out one more time and still didn’t find any strange markings or blemishes. For now, it seems I can only read minds.

“Only read minds,” I say out loud laughing as if it’s the same as saying I can only run half a mile. Who knows, I’m probably the only person in the history of everything to have this power. I’m really feeding my ego now, no deadbeat over here! But how should I test this out in the wild? Find out what my parents really think of me? Or what about any hidden skeletons that my boss might have? Whatever it would be, this was the first time in my entire life I’ve felt important. Phenomenons like this simply don’t happen, but it did to me. 

I accidentally step on the TV remote and the tiny box flickers on. The same anime from last night is on but a different episode. It’s the aftermath of the epic last battle with the heroes standing victorious over the defeated villains.

“You use your extraordinary abilities for selfish pursuits, seeking riches and authority over those weaker than you. Instead of seeking to protect those in need, you sought to control them. And this is why you lose. Maybe with all the free time you’ll have at Ravenwood Penitentiary you’ll do some self-reflecting on your life choices.”

Just as Ace Wing finished his monologue, I shut the TV back off. What a dumb speech. These “heroes” think they’re helping society but are merely power tools to maintain our shackles. Why wouldn’t I want to be treated better than someone I was stronger than? Or care about those who wouldn’t waste a single second on me in any other case? Society has shown me what “respect” means and those worthy of receiving it. Up until now, I thought I wasn’t.

I pick up my coat and wince a little as more and more thoughts flood my mind. But I’ve quickly adjusted to the sensation now and can even suppress them to a dull roar. Ace Wing didn’t know what he was talking about, nobody from those shows preaching this “all holier than thou” mindset knew what they were talking about. No, I wasn’t going to continue living my life in the slums now that I’ve been blessed with a higher purpose. 

The green meteor chose me. 

A wicked grin starts to spread across my face and I know exactly what I’m going to do.

“Let’s have some fun.”