You always dream about getting Powers.

In this world of Hero's, Villains and Monsters, that is an irrevocable truth.

There really aren't exceptions. Even just some random soulless businessman will at least have the passing thought of how much easier their life and job could be with the help of Powers.

Even for those of us who knew what it meant to be a Cape. What it meant to trigger.

Even then, we would think, 'one super traumatic event in exchange for superpowers?' and we would think it to be a fair exchange.

I mean really, get raped once and in exchange you become Legend. Who wouldn't take that deal?

Naturally, a Trigger doesn't have to be a rape. In fact, from what rare few Cape's have shared their trigger events, or the unlucky few who had the misfortune of a more public trigger, most of them aren't really as bad as a rape.

Granted, you can't really do comparative suffering like that, since trigger events are deeply personal, but at the same time there are plenty worse ways to trigger, namely the Slaughterhouse Nine.

Though if I'm remembering my statistics right, I'm pretty sure that there are only two people still alive who were triggered by the Nine, the rest having either killed themselves, gone insane and had to be put down, or died attempting a foolish revenge.

Anyway, I've gotten off track.

See, everyone dreams about getting powers.

Even if you get a weak one like that girl in Stafford, whatever her name is. I just remember the memes about the 'Damsel in Distress'. To be fair, it is pretty funny watching that video of her 'valiantly' standing against her foes and throwing a dramatic arm forward that releases a ball of purple energy.

Of course, that is when it stops being cool as her energy ball just zips around her target and hits her in the face.

Now, you may be wondering how any of this is important enough to warrant an internal monolog, well that's quite simple.

You see, about a month ago, I triggered. Don't think about it don't think about it. And even though the experience was sufficiently traumatic as the stories tell you, by the morning I was ready to put the whole thing behind me and move onto greener pastures, as it were.

I had thought I understood my power, thought that it was a simple one.

See, I triggered as a Brute. I'm not sure what level I would fit on the PRT's scale, but my estimate would be around a Brute 5.

While I wasn't really that much stronger, well, relatively speaking that is. Against any non cape, I am undefeatable in terms of strength, however, more that physical strength, I found that I am durable.

As in, knives and stuff literally cannot pierce my skin. Do you have any idea how insane it is to stab yourself and for the knife to be the one that gives?

Not only that, but I regenerate too. That's where I wager most of my Brute rating would come from because I regenerate pretty fast. Without that, I would probably only be a 3 or so.

However, that is not all!

For there is another aspect to my power.

I have these two weird, pulsing red tentacle ribbon-like things that I can manifest from my lower back and they are super long and agile and far stronger than my body.

To be honest, I am not really sure what rating they fit into. Brute or Changer? Probably one of those.

Not that it really matters in the end, because yet again, I have avoided what I consider to be the most important aspect of my power.

After all, this aspect is the reason that I am here, on some random backroad in the countryside driving a recently stolen vehicle and with a corpse stinking up the backseat.

See, I eat people.

Or to be more precise, I can't eat anything but people.

It didn't take me long to discover that I couldn't eat normal food, not that that is a surprise really since everything I ate tasted like raw, rotten filth packed inside a cockroach infested sweaty leather boot, all topped with a hefty dosing of year old milk.

In simpler terms, it tasted bad.

At first I sort of just shrugged it off as a quirk of my power, I was too excited by the prospect of beating up Villains, and maybe Heroes too, to bother with the fact that I apparently didn't need to eat anymore.

Of course, it was a week later that I started to get hungry.

That was when I noticed that despite everything in the fridge smelling like hot garbage, my mother smelt divine.

Imagine the greatest meal you've ever eaten, now image you have been fasting for a week and you come home to the smell of that meal invading the entire building. It was intoxicating.

However, even with how fucked up in the head I may be, the thought of my mother smelling like food made me panic.

In that panic and hunger, I set out to eat everything.

I tried every food available to me, every meat in the shops, every vegetable, every fruit, every biscuit and snack and drink.

The only things I found that I could tolerate was water and weirdly enough, coffee.

As the weeks past, I grew increasingly panicked.

No one knew I triggered except my mom, but even then, I didn't tell her about how hungry I was.

Though, she definitely notice that something was wrong, but she never said anything, letting me deal with my own problems until I ask her to help.

I think that's what I loved the most about my mother, that we were both a little fucked up in the head, though myself clearly more so. See, we were both pretty apathetic individuals, and we were both very open with each other.

In a normal family I think the conversation would have gone some thing like, 'is something wrong?', 'no', followed by an incessant back and forth, however with us it was always a lot more honest.

"Is something the matter?" My mother asked me, fully aware that something was wrong but abiding social customs anyway.

"Yeah, it sucks but I don't really wanna talk about it." I responded, withholding a grimace as another spike of pain shot through my gut.

My mother simply looked at me in the eyes for a moment before shrugging and going back to her phone, "Fair 'nuff".

And that was that.

No needless arguments, no hidden words or lies.

I feel tears come to my eyes and I let them fall even as I remain focused on the dark country road ahead.

Of course, things can never end so easily.

I think, if I lived a more average life, she might have survived, but I dropped out of school years ago and have been living alone with my mom, making meagre contributions to the rent via online work.

Because of this, I didn't leave the house once while I hoped for the pain to go away. If I did, then maybe I would have killed someone else, but as it were, my hunger overtook me.

I don't remember what happened exactly, it was sometime during the fourth week and I hadn't left my bed in days, then I heard my mom enter the flat and the next thing I remember I am kneeled down in our living room, covered in the same blood decorating the rest of the room.

I remember trying to figure out what happened and looking down at the mangled remains of a corpse beneath me.

Frankly it doesn't take a genius to figure out what happened.

I killed and ate my mother.

It really says a lot about me as a person that rather than freaking out or crying or killing myself or something, all I did was tentatively lick my fingers, and once I discovered just how delicious she tasted, I simply finished the meal.

We are a pragmatic sort, my mother and I, so I at least know she would not have held any hard feeling on the matter. Probably.

Granted, she would probably be a little miffed about me killing her in the first place, but I don't doubt that after the fact she would have simply shrugged and said 'waste not, want not' and all but told me to devour her.

Like I said, we have always been a little fucked up.

All of that, was only a couple of days ago.

After having committed matricide, it was pretty obvious that I couldn't stick around, so after making sure nothing of my mother went to waste, I cleaned myself up, as well as the blood that had soaked into the carpet so that it didn't stink the place up, and then I got the hell outta dodge.

I wasn't in a rush or anything, still aren't, but there was no need to waste time.

I should have about 12 hours before my mothers absence is noted, and then another 24 before anybody will try and check up on her, at which point they will probably report her missing to the police.

Then again, maybe she will just get fired and no one will call the cops, and since the flat won't start stinking up, thanks to my cleaning, it is entirely possible that no one will notice our absence until next months rent.

So with plenty of time at my disposal, I was in no rush to leave and simply wondered around the edges of town, away from cameras and without any electronics on my person, until I found a truck, this truck, parked off the side of the road with it's owner sat in a foldable chair, fishing in a nearby lake.

Though with it's size I would rather call it an exceptionally large pond.

After looking around and making sure we were alone, I snuck up on the man. Not that it was difficult with the music he was playing and the beer he was drinking.

Then I simply snapped his neck.

Or, at least that was the plan.

However, I hadn't exactly killed anyone before, at least not consciously, so even though I held no moral quandaries about it, I still hesitated, simply due to a lack of experience.

The result was that I basically just roughly rubbed his face and scared the shit out of him.

I must make an awful assassin because rather than 'pushing my advantage' or whatever, I just keeled over laughing my guts out.

I mean seriously, he screamed like a dying chicken and jumped so hard out of his seat that he flew into the 'lake'.

It was hilarious.

Then again, I have always loved surprising people, as my mom had the misfortune of learning as I frequently hit around corners to scare the shit out of her, and she never learned.

The guy was pretty pissed, but in the face of my wheezing laughter as I struggled to breathe, he calmed down enough to crack a smile and we ended up having a rather amicable conversation.

To be honest, I kinda just forgot about what I was doing there in the first place. I only remembered once he caught a fish and mentioned eating it.

With that reminder, I decided to go for round two and punched him in the face as hard as I could.

I figured if we get into a fight then adrenaline would carry me to killing him without the natural hesitance. What I did not expect, was for him to simply go down and stay down.

At first I thought I killed him in one punch and was ecstatic, but then he groaned and I figured I just gave him a concussion, which, while not as cool, was enough for my purposes.

And that all leads to now, me, who has never driven a vehicle before, driving this mans truck with his body in the backseat for when I get hungry again.

Then again, it has been about a day and I don't want to eat rotten meat, so I will probably just eat my fill in a couple of hours.

As for my plans for the future?

Well, I've always believed in making things up as you go, after all, your plans can't go wrong if you just don't make any plans.

So for now, the first step is to find civilisation, because I am shit at geography and am simply picking roads at random, with no destination in mind.

Either way, I hope I can have some fun wherever I end up.

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