Chapter 1: A Long Exposition rabble to a disappointing resolution
Gunshots, and sirens fill the less than lovely city of Smilva, Wisconsin sitting right on the edge of Lake Michigan. Just like Chicago but with less songs about it and more pointless segregation. Like, there’s separate polish, and Irish districts in the frickin’ city. For real. I mean I’m not in touch with my European side but seems excessive to be that organized by background. Do Dutch and Germans hate each other that bad? Getting way off topic aren’t I? Raving about topics that don’t matter that much huh? Well moving on from that, Smilva has the highest crime rate in Wisconsin, cops are corrupt, Gang wars break out all the time from the usual Mexicans, Italians, and then there’s the Finish, Polish. God Dammit! I’m on the topic again! Seriously how is there a Finish Mafia! It’s like the Wyoming of the world! There isn’t anything going on there! It’s something a crappy writer would come up with to seem original.
But to be fair, that is the reality of Smilva, outside of a crappy baseball team that fans don’t get much more than a race between some sausages, there isn’t anything but gangs smuggling booze, cigars, and things way worse than that across the giant lake that border the dairy state. And I like most people did nothing to help. So in my world, not sure why I’m calling it my world, this isn’t a crappy story or anything that requires exposition but, eh what the hell, there are superheroes, ya know your typical caped protectors of big cities all with there own private clubs, abilities, and PR managers.
Can’t really blame them, there helping out might as well throw them a couple clams but there are none in Smilva. It’s so corrupted after so many decades of gun running, drug smuggling, there are too many big organizations, and there are no freaky mutants ransacking the town, so why bother not much profit in it. So I’m not gonna bother listing off any off the big heroes because there are none of them in this story it’s all about me and how I do it.
So about me, before I stopped existing I was your average jackass millenial with a mountain of a Student loans that would make the appalachian have some envy and a degree in physics that got me a crappy job filling through documents that said some stuff I wasn’t supposed to know. Well you're probably lingering on what I mean by stopped existing. Well to explain that we’re gonna have to back peddle a bit. So first of, my name. Nicholas Zues, not Greek. Clarification, everyone immediately assumes by the name, or get pissed when they find out I’m mostly German. But hey I didn’t pick it. So I grew up to two parents, there perfectly fine. No if ands or buts about it, they are great typical midwestern parents. And neither are dead. Everyone immediately assume my background has me having at least one dead parent. Well anyway remember the filing job? Well one day when filing through a cabinet way in the back of a storage facility I accidentally saw one with something peculiar written on it, besides the giant red TOP SECRET that plagued each and every file in the frickin building. It was called “The Tesla Files”. Now immediately I was intrigued given my wealth of unnecessary knowledge about Nikola Tesla so I peeked in and found the holy grail of every science geeks wet dream.
Turns out at the end of his life he wasn’t just a pigeon loving old has been, raving about lasers, he actually invented a death ray. It no longer worked and probably got forgot about so I just decided to take it with me and see if I can figure out what I could do with it. Though turns out I’m bad at science. Four years studying crap for hours and then 5 straight years of filing made me forget every single thing I learned. And basically, from there I got caught. Incredibly quickly I might add, I went to a friends house for a day to talk crap and they found it and seized me the moment I walked into work, made me spill my coffee, eh it wasn’t that good. Messed up my order, I ordered black. How do you mess that up? What was I?.. oh right! A act of national terrorism they called it as they took what I had back and just now started putting the plans to motion for a legitimate electro-laser. I assume the egg heads of the past couldn’t figure out the mad ramblings of an old pigeon loving psychotic Serbian.
But my colleagues were able to build it in like a night. After a long, boring speech about the “good deed” I did for my country, aka looking at a file. Seriously that’s all I did, a whole rousing speech about the duties of men to his country, I didn’t build anything I got through like three pages. Course I didn’t voice this to General Jonathan P. Morgan or Rubberhead as (we called him due to his painfully shiny hair piece that stuck out like a sore thumb.) I might have these strong opinions of stuff but rarely voice them because they probably make me look like a pretentious asshole. More than I do right now.
Well anyway, self deprecation aside, they decided to give me a demonstration of its power. They set me down in a chair with no cuffs, no guards, just a couple fellow geeks, and the old general himself. Why did they do that? Seriously I am not trustworthy, I stole a government file, I could be a terrorist, but this is just Smilva, they obviously didn’t send their best. They hired me for god sake. Now I’ve never been one for stepping up for the little guy, mostly because when you are the little guy taking charge against the man is intimidating. But suddenly staring at a dangerous laser cannon I accidentally created I felt this was a bad thing for the world to have. Mostly cause Rubberhead is the shady general you’ve seen a million times. The kind that only cares about showing off America’s bad assery.
So suddenly I moved and started pressing buttons and before I could even register the consequences of my actions. Sparks began to fly from the machine my colleagues looked on in horror as I did what was right. I stood up for those that were helpless. I was a true hero. Then I heard self destruct sequence. And my foot was stuck. And then we’ll...Everything hurt. Like you think you’ve been in pain, you’ve never been in the state I was in. Every single fiber of my being was in pain. As if I was torn in two. I am no longer alive. Technically I am only a living mass of electrical currents. I do have what appears to be a physical body but it’s like not real. I can’t change my physical appearance. My hair is in a constant state of uncontrolled static and I’ve got a forever 3 o’clock shadow. On top of outward appearance I have a hard time controlling my newly found power of controlling electricity. I can absorb and redirect this stuff through my “body”.
Now after ruining my life I woke up in god knows where in southern Wisconsin. SAfter getting back to Smilva I realized I can’t go back to my old life. I did commit treason and multitudes of other crimes. On top of the knowledge of my non existence. But I didn’t mind that this had happened to me. For the most part that is. That feeling of protecting others, even if no one was there to protect was a good feeling. Every day I walk past others in peril and do nothing but walk faster. Now apart from helping others I don't know how I'm gonna go about helping. Beat up some thugs, go after the men in charge, team up with a bunch of D-Tier heroes that consider themselves outcasts so we can all feel better about ourselves. I don't know what I'm gonna do next. But that feeling I felt when stepping up to those that would do wrong is nothing short of spectacular. I think I'm gonna try stuff out until I can hopefully get back to how I was before this accident. Tell then though gotta find a good costume and stop talking to myself. Might just wear a suit...