Derek stepped out of the towering building, his thoughts swirling as he tried to assess the outcome of his interview. The uncertainty gnawed at him. Had it gone well? Or had his past mistakes overshadowed his chances? The weight bore down on him as he approached the subway entrance.
A small robot bumped into his leg, jolting him out of his thoughts. "Oh, sorry, little buddy," Derek chuckled, patting the robot's head. It nodded slightly before rolling away on its errands. Derek watched it go, marveling. "Why don't we have these in our part of the city?" he muttered. "I guess we're not rich enough to deserve them."
With a final glance at the corporate skyscraper behind him, Derek descended into the subway station. The dimly lit platform was eerily empty, the silence broken only by the faint hum of machinery. He boarded the tram that would take him back to his part of the city. The cart was sparsely populated with occasional giggles from high school students and the hurried tapping of business people scrolling their phones.
Derek leaned against the wall, clutching the metal pole for support as his mind wandered. His phone buzzed in his pocket, but he ignored it momentarily. Maybe he'd call the young woman he met earlier, who promised to give him a chance if he got a job. Would she still be interested in him now, a jobless 20-something scraping by with months of unpaid rent? He sighed. Ken had stuck his neck out to get him the interview, and now Derek feared he'd let his friend down.
The tram jerked slightly as it picked up speed. Derek avoided eye contact with a group of former classmates. What would they think of him now? No powers, no prospects, barely hanging on. He turned his face to the window, pretending to be lost in thought.
"Hey, Derek!" a deep voice called out.
Derek turned slowly, his stomach sinking. Standing before him was Deshawn Mathers, a broad-shouldered man with a confident smirk.
"I don't want any trouble, Deshawn," Derek said, his voice low. "I'm just trying to get home."
Deshawn's smirk widened. "Home? Still mooching off your buddy Ken, huh? Poor Derek. No job, no powers, no future."
Derek clenched his fists, willing himself to stay calm. "Leave Ken out of this."
But Deshawn wasn't done. "Ken's wasting his time with you. You're nothing but dead weight, holding him back."
The tram slowed slightly, but Deshawn shoved him hard into the cart wall before Derek could move. The impact made Derek wince, but something inside him stirred an energy, a power he didn't recognize.
Deshawn advanced. "Someone needs to teach you a lesson."
As Deshawn swung, Derek's body moved on instinct. He ducked under the punch with a speed that shocked even him. Dodging another blow, Derek twisted his body, delivering a punch to Deshawn's stomach. The impact sent the larger man stumbling back.
"What the" Deshawn gasped, clutching his midsection. Before he could recover, Derek grabbed his arm and twisted. The sickening crack echoed through the cart.
Deshawn screamed, falling to his knees. "What the hell did you do to me?"
Derek stumbled back, staring at his hands in disbelief. "I didn't mean to…"
Deshawn's friends rushed forward. Acting on instinct, Derek sidestepped the first one, slamming his head into the metal wall of the tram. Blood trickled down as the man crumpled to the ground. The second charged, but Derek countered with an elbow to the jaw, sending teeth flying.
The adrenaline coursing through Derek's veins was electric. His movements were faster and stronger than he'd ever experienced. "What is happening to me?" he whispered.
The tram screeched to a halt at the next station. Derek didn't wait. He bolted through the opening doors, his heart racing. He ran until the city blurred around him, finally stopping at a quiet alley to catch his breath. Leaning over a trash can, he retched violently, the reality of what he'd done crashing over him.
"Oh my God," he muttered, wiping his mouth. "I broke his arm. They're going to go after Ken… What have I done?"
His phone buzzed again. With trembling hands, he pulled it from his pocket. The message on the screen made his stomach drop further:
"Derek, thank you for your interest, but we regret to inform you that we have no positions available now. If you would like feedback, don't hesitate to contact us."
The rejection hit him like a punch. Clutching his phone, Derek felt an unfamiliar strength surge through him, the glass cracking in his grip. "What's happening to me?" he whispered again, fear and confusion gripping him.
The faces of Deshawn and his lackeys flashed in his mind. He had to get ahead of this. He had to find someone who could help him understand what was happening. Turning on his heel, Derek ran, his body moving faster than ever.
Lightning-fast, he sprinted toward a quiet neighborhood on the city's outskirts. He stopped before a cozy townhouse, chest heaving as he knocked on the door.
"Please be here," he whispered. "Please…"
Derek hesitated as the door creaked open. Standing there was Marissa, her arms crossed and an unmistakable glare in her eyes. She was just as he remembered: strong, stunning, and unapologetically honest.
"What are you doing here?" she hissed, her voice sharp with disbelief. "The last time I saw you… you were kissing some other woman at that theater play I wanted to see."
Derek winced at the memory. "I couldn't resist," he admitted sheepishly. "She was one of the actresses who entered the restaurant where I worked. She liked my watch, and I… well, I guess I charmed her."
"Your charm?" Marissa scoffed, rolling her eyes. "You mean your cheating nature. Why did I even open this door?"
She turned, gripping the doorknob, but Derek stepped forward, his voice trembling. "Please, Marissa. I'm a loser, I know. I'm sorry about everything. But you know I have a good heart."
"Do I?" she shot back, her tone icy. "I haven't seen you in two years, and now you show up out of nowhere expecting me to just listen to whatever sob story you've brought?"
"Not just one ear," Derek muttered, his head hanging low, his eyes watering. "Two, maybe."
Marissa stared at him momentarily, the tension thick in the air. Finally, she let out a long sigh. "Something's bothering you…" she said reluctantly. "I'm going to regret this, but come in."
She stepped aside, and Derek walked in. The place hadn't changed much, it was clean, simple, and filled with her personality. He caught a hint of the lavender scent she always wore, and memories of her gentle touch flooded his mind.
Marissa closed the door and turned to him. "So, what's on your mind?"
Derek took a moment to take her in the familiar way she moved, her posture, the way she crossed her arms when annoyed. He had missed all of it. "Well," he started, rubbing the back of his neck, "something's… wrong with me. I'm just not feeling right."
Marissa stepped closer, her eyes narrowing with concern. Towering slightly over Derek, she placed her hand on his forehead. "You're burning up."
"I had an interview today," Derek said with a nervous laugh.
"You never were good under pressure," Marissa replied, a teasing edge in her voice. "Especially around suits." She walked briskly to the fridge, pulling out an ice pack.
Derek sat on her blue sofa, leaning back with a groan. "I was almost as nervous in that interview as I was with you back then," he joked, trying to lighten the mood.
"Stop," Marissa said, shaking her head as she returned to his side. "You're not getting lucky today, Derek." She bent down and gently placed the ice pack on his forehead.
He flinched at the cold, pulling back slightly. "You wound me," he teased, then softened. "Thank you."
"No problem," Marissa replied with a small smile. She sat down across from him, crossing her legs. "So, who was the interview with? And why don't you tell me everything that's happened today?"
Derek stretched his legs and took a deep breath. "Ken got me an interview at the big tech company building the new part of the city. I felt like I did well."
"Oh," Marissa said, her tone shifting to interest. "That tech giant? The one transforming downtown into some futuristic utopia? Many people I work with want to buy real estate there." She absentmindedly twirled her dark brown hair, her expression thoughtful.
"Yeah," Derek said. "The coffee was amazing, and there are robots everywhere. They're version two models, upgraded from our ones here." He paused, trying to steady his breathing.
Marissa raised an eyebrow. "Robots, deviants, and humans all in one city. That's a recipe for disaster."
Her words hit harder than he expected. He lowered his gaze. "I remember when your parents were killed by a deviant," he murmured. " They didn't even have a chance."
Marissa's expression softened. "Thank you, Derek. They were good people. I remember them."
"Yeah," Derek said, his voice tinged with bitterness. "The settlement you got was $350,000 was lackluster." He ran a hand through his hair, his emotions bubbling to the surface. "Deviants versus robots one of them is going to make red-blooded humans like us obsolete."
Marissa crossed her arms again, studying him. "Maybe. But right now, you're fighting something closer to home than a robot uprising. What else is going on, Derek?"
Derek hesitated. How do I explain that turn of events in the subway.
Breaking news: The fair skin woman on the television in a blue suit extended her hand, pointing at the holographic screen behind her. A new deviant was spotted today! Protesting is at an all-time high, with humans showing up in the thousands at the recent rally downtown.
"Another one of the crazy enhanced humans doing what they will," Marissa hissed.
A picture of Derek flashed across the screen, and Marissa gasped. Her eyes locked on the image of the man she once knew so well, now clad in a blue suit. The newscaster's voice droned on, her tone sharp and accusatory.
"This man," she said, "exhibited otherworldly powers in a subway altercation and assaulted an employee of a downtown committee. We have the victim here. His name is Deshawn, the son of a wealthy businessman who owns several pizza chains."
Marissa's breath hitched. The camera shifted to an injured man, and his face twisted in fury as he pointed accusingly.
"That no-good piece of trash broke my arm and dislocated my elbow!" Deshawn shouted, his voice cracking with anger. "He needs to be locked up. No! He needs to be killed! Deviants like him have no place in our city. We're losing our rights as humans because of freaks like him!"
The crowd murmured in agreement, their anger palpable. On the screen, a video looped of Derek, his face contorted with rage, snapping Deshawn's arm in a subway brawl. The news anchor added, "Officials warn that Derek is dangerous. If spotted, citizens should contact authorities immediately."
Marissa turned to Derek, who stood in the room with her, his face pale. "Derek," she whispered, her voice shaky, "is this true? Did you attack him?"
Derek shook his head vehemently. "Marissa, no. It's not what it looks like. I swear I didn't mean for any of this to happen. I was defending myself! You've got to believe me!"
Her composure wavered, but she forced herself to maintain control. "Defending yourself? That video says otherwise. You're just a normal guy, Derek or at least I thought you were. How could you bring this kind of trouble to my door?"
"I didn't have anywhere else to go," Derek pleaded. "I thought I could trust you. I would never put you in danger. Please, Marissa!"
Marissa took a step back, crossing her arms. "Trust me? You're all over the news as some dangerous deviant! My life is finally going in the right direction, and you expect me to risk everything for you?"
"Marissa," Derek said, desperation in his voice. "I'm not a deviant. I don't even know what's happening to me. I'm just me. Please, you've got to help me."
She shook her head. "I'm sorry, Derek, but I can't do this. I'm involved in anti-deviant campaigns. If people find out you came to me, it could cost me my job. You have to leave."
Derek's face twisted in hurt and disbelief. "So that's it? You're throwing me to the wolves? After everything we've been through, you will turn your back on me?"
Her voice softened, but her words remained firm. "I have to protect myself. I can't be associated with you, Derek. You've brought too much chaos into my life. Please, go."
Derek's anguish boiled over. "Fine," he snapped, his voice breaking. "You want me gone? I'm gone." He slammed his fist into the floor, the hardwood cracking. His body trembled as he fought to control himself. "I thought you were different. I thought you cared."
Marissa opened the door, her hand shaking as a tear slipped down her cheek. "Take care of yourself, Derek. Don't get hurt. And don't come back."
Derek stormed past her, only to glare at her one last time. "You know what happens to people like me if caught," he said coldly. "Especially people like me who don't fit the mold. I hope you can live with that."
Marissa closed the door behind him, the sound echoing in the silence. She leaned against it, her tears falling freely now. Derek walked down the street, his shoulders hunched, sweat dripping from his face as he disappeared into the night.
"Goodbye, Marissa," he muttered under his breath. "You've made your choice. I'll make mine."