People always comment on how cool it must be for me to meet all the major superheroes. That they wish they could shake the hands of BrainGuard or WaterSprout, and I just laugh and wave them off. In reality, the actual talks are the least interesting part for me.
I much prefer the paper work.
I have gotten a reputation for being a smooth talker, as I have signed on the largest number of heroes to our community service by far. But I don’t think that is fair to the others. It is just that when I contact the super-powered people, I have the upper hand, because I do my homework. I pull the statistics, analyze their powers and, more importantly, their personality.
Stop suggesting all water and fire-based powers to go into firefighting. Not all super strength people are interested in search and rescue missions in fallen down buildings. If healers wanted to work in hospitals – they would just go do it!
Instead, I look for the connection between the person and the superpower. It has caused some controversial decisions, I understand this. However, I believe a happy healer working to reduce animal suffering, is better than a healer stuck in a cancer ward, wanting to die themselves. The summation of the good will be greater, even if the acts seem smaller.
Nothing has been quite as controversial as this one though. But I believe in my analysis. There is no doubt in my conclusion.
Grim Raven is chained to the table, his hands resting on the tabletop far away from my reach. Tattoos that he did not have prior to his arrest, peaks out of the sleeves of his shirt. I make sure to keep my papers out of reach, while I give my presentation. When I am done talking, he just laughs.
“So? Would you be interested?” I try a convincing smile, knowing that my smile does not work like that. When the laughter dies down, his eyes fixate on my paperwork.
“You know what I have done?” The voice are rough. “You know what I did?”
“Yes.” There is no point in lying. He is decades older now, but the videos of his acts were major data points in order to reach my conclusion. “You walked into a mall as an old teen, and released your power after a particular heated discussion with your parents, causing every person in the given distance to drop dead. Dead of old age, as the autopsies later showed. You turned around, and continued to release your power periodically for the better part of a day, before a Power Blocker hero managed to stop you. Your estimated body-count is in the high hundreds.”
“And you suggest to release me? I am the biggest killer of the last century.”
“You took your judgement without hesitation. Reports are saying you have been staying on the powerblockers without a single slip up, luckily during you solitary containment. Only five died.”
“But you want me to stop taking them again.”
“Your power is time manipulation. Time manipulation forward, specifically. Irreversible, deadly. To humans, of course. But not everything has as limited a timespan as us weaklings. The reforestation has been ongoing on the west coast for years. We are struggling with re-planting the trees while still sustaining our need for lumber. You would have a cabin. Food, water and entertainment delivered regularly. You would simply have to take the blockers in the periods when they are replanting or cutting down the trees. At any other point, we just need you to make them grow faster. What do you say?”
I slide over the paper and pen as a formality.
I already know I have him.