A chill washes down my spine as I stare out ahead of me, soaking up the view of the setting sun. There's nothing better than seeing the splash of red and orange and yellow wane as the sun dips below. Too bad such beauty is blocked by endless buildings that stick up from the ground, scraping the sky, trying to challenge the heavens. Ever wonder how they got their name?

I sit on the edge of the roof on top of the very same thing that blocks my view of the world, letting my legs swing freely. The sun is gone now and the only light available is from the dim glow of the moon and headlights of the cars that move below, like tiny ants trailing to whatever hell they call home.

It's getting darker and darker and I know it'll start soon. Chaos. Because no one ever does wrong in the open these days, they all hide behind a mask of smiles during the day but let loose unimaginable horrors once they're out of sight. Just like me.

Except, I do what I do with a purpose. To protect the innocent and do away with the bloodsucking parasites who deem themselves honorable. It's a matter of justice in this cruel world run by power mad tyrants.

Getting on my feet, I heave myself off the edge of the roof and start along the ledge, boots pounding on the metallic slabs. I let my nostrils fill with the cool night air as I run, nearing the end of the roof with every step. Then I jump.

It's another great feeling—that suspension in the air. It is the equivalent of flight; you are weightless in the best possible way. Only problem with that is the good old science of gravity. And the unfair situation of not being able to choose the powers you want.

One moment my arms are spread apart and I'm soaring, hair whipping in the wind behind me, the next, I'm plunging downwards. Down, down, until I reach above and grab hold of another ledge I had been eyeing.

I don't do it properly and the concrete corner digs into my palm. Luckily, I have gloves on and they ease the pain that bites at my hands. In a short time, I'm on my feet and running again. Leaping, landing, running. Leaping, landing, running. I don't stop even though my lungs burn with the effort and my throat feels dry. I'm not selfish; I'm not doing it for me. This struggle, this fight; it's all going to pay off. Eventually.

I come to a stop as I reach my destination; Crompton Heights. It's been a while since I had to face any of those buffoons and I'm sure they've gone back to scheming, hiding and protecting those undeserving rats. The only option I have is to lure them out. And who would be a better candidate to help me that one of the rotten people they protect?

No, I'm not going to cause harm to Edward Crompton---even though that man deserves a truckload of pain crashed onto that bald head of his—his tower is just gonna act as a bit of bait. Just to lure them out. A little fire never hurt anyone, especially since each and everyone in that building is gone home. To their husbands or wives and kids... maybe their pet cat.

I ease myself to the ground and walk over to one of the security men standing guard. He stares at me through hooded eyes and a sneer, hand trailing to his side.

I give him a smile. "When you wake up, tell them it was me."

Then he is down. Men are always so easy to take off. If it was a woman, she would scream, beg, claw at me to offer mercy. But not this guy. All hail the power of toxic masculinity.

I step over his body carefully, reaching down to pluck the keys that hung on his side—the same place he was feeling for a weapon to hit me with. Too bad.

Twirling the key ring over my fingers, I walk into the building. There's no way I'm going to trip an alarm if I don't break in, which is a good thing. They would never come out of their hiding places for a mere alarm blaring. No, They want something bigger, brighter. So they can show off their shiny costumes while looking pretty for the camera.

I give it to them. Instead of going after them or having them show up unannounced, I'll let them come to me for a change. You can call it Operation Level the Playing Field.

In a matter of minutes, I'm outside the suffocating walls of the skyscraper. I sit and wait, hoping that the little device they have to me works. Press the button and get the heck out of there, Shinobi had said. Button? Pressed. Get the heck out of there? Done. But where's the-

I feel the ground vibrate, followed by the sound of glass shattering as the device went off. The scent of smoke reaches my nose before I see flames spew out of the empty holes where windows used to be.

Red and orange and yellow, it reminds me of the sunset I had witnessed more than an hour ago. Both magnificent and alluring to watch.

The sound of screams follows the crackling of the fire as the people around gather. They gather. Phones are held up and I know they're taking photos and videos to post on Twitter and tag it. #CromptonHeightsFire #IWasAVictim

A victim of stupidity works much better. What else can I say to a person who would rather go for hype instead of running for their life. #HumanitySucks.

Thank goodness I'm not one of them anyway, not technically.

The crowd starts to disperse and I have to blink just in case I'm hallucinating. Has humanity finally regained common sense? Oh no. They haven't.

I hear a voice yell that the place be cleared. It's unfamiliar so I peek down from my spot to see a guy directing the people away. He's not a civilian, unless he likes to play dress up too.

It's after the people are gone and the fire service finally showed up, that I notice the figure's face. His dark skin, the colour of earth, glows from the the dying flames the fire truck battles. I watch as he moves around and eventually finds the knocked out security guard. He examines him, checking for a pulse. That's how they are, always nosey, always doing things outside their job specifics. The guard isn't even hurt, probably just lazy and desperate for time off his shift. I only pressed down on pressure points on his body till he dropped, nothing serious.

The fire dies, and so does my interest in making an appearance. Maybe next week I'll have a go at it again. On the bright side, Crompton's place is down. One less evil to deal with.

But before I'm away from the scene of my little stunt, I notice the black guy lingering around the smouldered building. He's holding something in his hands and I notice it's Shinobi's little toy. He could have just got on home and assumed the fire was a freak accident, but no, not their kind.

"What the fuck is---who did this?" he mumbles.

I decide to stay and have a little fun with the guy so I move to a spot where he'll be able to spot me if he angles his head a little higher. Clearing my throat, I say, "Oh, that would be me."

His head immediately shoots up and his eyes stare at me behind a dark blue mask, kinda like mine. It's not as fancy, but it can pass as a good knock-off.

"Well, I didn't make that thing, I frankly don't know how it works. But the whole ka-boom, fire." I splay out my fingers before I point them to my chest. "That one was me."

His eyes roam my body before they snap back to meet mine. "Ecstasy..." My stage name leaves his lips.

"Glad to know you're a fan."

"A fan?" He scoffs. "You're horrible."

"As horrible as the people that sent you over here? They sent you to fight a fucking fire." I can't fight the laugh that climbs out my throat. "What's more horrible than that?"

His face sets into a frown and his eyebrows furrow. "You could have hurt people."

"And they could get you hurt. Did you think of that, huh?" I ask. "Did you think of how I can leave you laying in a hospital ER for weeks before coming here?"

He opens his mouth to challenge me, to bring up a stupid excuse they had brainwashed him with. I stop him before he can when I start to walk away.

But before I'm out of sight, I yell out to him. "I hope they pay you enough for this!"

Then I am one with the night.