The Library of Powers

Chapter 3: Desk

Making his way home, Jackson was depressed and regretting his meeting with Ivory. He should have known there were more wannabe-heroes at his school. Many opted to go the secret route, having two separate identities, their hero one and their "boring/normal" one. But hey, you couldn't be discovered if you only had a secret identity. Or at least, so Jackson had thought. His way home was faster, ignoring large portions of the city and moving straight back into the Fringe Suburbs of Vera City's Seacrest neighborhood. Jackson passed a convenience store, debating on whether to go in when he noticed three men in masks inside a car, staring at the entrance. Jackson stopped dead in his tracks. A moment later, he kept walking.

He passed the mini-mart and the apartment complex next door but then hid in an alcove near the apartment's entrance. Glancing behind him, Jackson considered stopping them. Would it be worth potentially revealing his powers to more people? He might be able to contain the rumors just inside Takeshi High, as his clockwork lie couldn't keep ticking forever. One person had already figured it out, how long until someone else did? Until Principal Gonners did? Jackson figured, either way, he better start reading up on clocks. Carefully deciding to be impulsive for once, Jackson entered the Library halfway and started running back towards the convenience store. A moment later, he came running back.

Jackson peered from his secret alcove at the car the criminals were once in, watching a hero contact the police while keeping an eye on the criminals, now tied to their car in matching handcuffs. In the time between finding his hiding spot and deciding to act, another hero had come around and apprehended the robbers by himself. Jackson should have figured. Vera City had the largest professional superhero population per capita in the world, by a lot. It had both the highest crime rate in the nation and the lowest homicide. Jackson had read an interesting book on the topic a few months ago while in the Library, the author called it the "Justice Effect". The more heroes you have, the more villains come to combat them. Jackson thought the "Jedi/Sith Effect" would be a much better name.

Looking closer at the avenging hero, Jackson came to a sickening realization. He went to his school. The hero was young, evident by his face which still had acne in a few corners. The hero covered this partially with a yellow mask, in a style which looked more like a robber than the robbers themselves. That wasn't the major indicator, however. It was that the hero wasn't in a costume, but a sweatshirt and jeans. Wearing a backpack. A backpack that a keychain with the Takeshi High logo on it. Okay, maybe it was the keychain that tipped Jackson off, but the other things were obvious in hindsight. Jackson considered going over to the hero. He wanted to ask him what his power was, or what his hero name was. Jackson had no intention of being a hero, his powers had very little offensive capabilities. Even slowed down dramatically, a bullet is still very fast. Eventually, Jackson instead decided to head home. The hero would probably recognize him (they did go to the same school) and maybe even run away. Then Jackson would have to wait for the authorities with the criminals in tow. Now that he thought about it, what kind of hero, professional or high school vigilante, carries around three pairs of handcuffs? Jackson would never know, as he was already two blocks away when the question hit him.

By the time Jackson got home, he had passed two other heroes and one cat stuck in a tree. Oh, they weren't separate events, but two superheroes trying to get a cat out of a tree. It was hilarious to watch the two fail miserably, only for the cat to jump from the tree and land on its paws perfectly fine. There were probably too many heroes in Vera City, and Jackson had seen a lot of them in his 17 years there, but it never really got old. As Jackson stepped up to his front door, attached to a two-story mid 90s townhouse with a dead lawn and clean windows, he wondered what it would have been like to have a normal power, one that he could actually show to others. Would he be a hero, or just use the power domestically? Jackson figured only about 5% of those with powers became heroes, while only about 20% had useful powers. He was just glad his power wasn't to give flowers the ability to sing. But then again, that would be a cool party trick.

He opened his door to a dark house, completely empty. Jackson's house was always empty when he wasn't home. He lived alone most of the time, but like clockwork, as Jackson entered the house his landline started to ring. Jackson dashed to pick it up, tossing his backpack on the stairs' landing to his left. Pressing the call button, Jackson wedged the phone between his shoulder and ear as he took his shoes off.

"Hello?" he asked, fully knowing the answer.

"Yes mom, I had a good day at school."

"Sure, I'll do it after dinner, don't worry."

"I'm fine mom. You don't have to worry about me."

"Tell dad he doesn't know what he's talking about. I'm perfectly happy here."

"Alright, I love you too."

Jackson hung up the phone and sat down on his couch. His daily phone calls with his mother were nice but grew repetitive and tedious. Jackson's parents had been away on an important work project for the last two years, cleaning up the fallout of a supervillain deathray malfunction. Ten blocks in downtown Miami, gone forever. Two parents, gone for two years. They took extensive vacations back to see Jackson, normally around the holidays. But work always called, so Jackson's mom called. If only they could tell Jackson what they were doing to help clean up the site. Or maybe take him with them. Take him so that he could avoid Takeshi High and Melanie and Mr.Gonners and Ivory forever. Or maybe just stop tracking his cell phone so that they know when Jackson entered the door every day, so they know when to call him. Talk about helicopter parenting, they were across the country and he still had a curfew.

Not that Jackson had anywhere to be at night. He wasn't an idiot, traveling at night crime-fighting or crime-committing. Jackson's parents knew he had powers, it was hard to keep that from someone you lived under the same roof with. But they respected his privacy and didn't pry into what those powers were. Instead, they tracked him so that he couldn't go out and use whatever powers he had in dangerous situations. It was ironic, but Jackson had come to terms with it. He was sure gold-mask hero kid would get seriously hurt sometime soon. The average career for a hero is 15 days, but that statistic was bogged down by kids like gold-mask who think they have what it takes. Those who miraculously get past a year are considered "professionals", but it's a very loose system. You can usually tell if a hero has what it takes, and a BA in Heroism doesn't hurt either.

Jackson flipped through TV for a while. Mayor Al-ice was giving a speech on Channel 6, reruns of Pawn Shop on the History Channel, report of Dr.Qwick holding up a bank on VCN; nothing caught Jackson's fancy. There was a new documentary on The Calypsos and their involvement with the terrorist group FRST, but Jackson had neither the patience nor interest to spend another hour and a half thinking about superheroes. After clicking the record show for later button for the documentary, Jackson went upstairs to his room and got his homework done.

Technically, It would have been better to do his homework in The Library of Powers and then spend his limited time outside it doing something he couldn't do inside the Library. However, Jackson wasn't really up to it and liked to feel the passage of time as he worked different assignments. Either way, he got what should have been 2 hours worth of assignments done in half an hour. It helped that he has taught himself most of the information through the Library years ago, but he was no super genius. Just a little ahead of the curve.

He went downstairs, made dinner, ate dinner, did some housecleaning, browsed the internet, brushed his teeth again, and went to bed. He checked his watch before turning out the light, which read 7:30, an ungodly early bedtime for anyone let alone a teenager. But Jackson had things to do, places to be. Places where he couldn't be awake. Jackson didn't go directly into the Library. He fell asleep. He didn't dream.