SUPERWORLD

François II

He knows, he knows this is the only thing special about me, he's trying to take it away!

"I'm saying you shouldn't use it for financial gain. It's unethical, being a player in a game of chance and knowing exactly how to win. Not even the people who run the lotto know what the numbers will be. It is fair and even, you've changed that balance, it's essentially cheating. Think of all the other people who bought tickets, hoping to win. Your actions are a bit selfish, no?" The old man remained calm, his tone measured and even. It enraged François even further.

"To hell with you! I won this on my own using my abilities. Anyone else in my position would have done the same! Stop the car!" François demanded.

They were close enough for him to walk to the corner store where he bought the winning ticket. The old man pulled over without another word and François stormed out of the car. He charged down the street, walking as fast as one could without it becoming a jog, his legs fueled by the fire in his belly feasting on his grandfather's words

I'm selfish? I'm a cheat? No, I am a superhero! I stopped a bank robbery by seeing the future. I am humble, a lesser man would've told the police of his actions for want of a medal. Not me, I am a silent protector. And does a silent protector not deserve a bit of pay? After all, how can I be a superhero if I don't have my lair in the attic, and for that I need rent.

François entered the corner store owned by a kindly Moroccan immigrant, Hosni. The foreign man waved at François upon his arrival, François pushed down the anger and resentment he felt towards grand-père to return the wave with a smile.

Perhaps I should buy something for us to celebrate together with? François went to the back of the shop and found the most expensive wine available, a twenty euro bottle of red. He then joined the queue, two men in front of him, and continued to fume over his grandfather's word.

Does he think that he'll shame me into not collecting the money? Perhaps he wants me to claim it, but then give it all to him. 'François, it's the noble thing to do'. Bah, to hell with him! I'll have a whole host of new people to celebrate with once I have my money.

The queue moved forward, a man in a turtleneck finished paying and walked out of the store. Then, the man in a tan jacket standing ahead of François approached the counter.

"How can I help you today, sir?" Hosni asked in his heavily accented French.

"You can help by emptying the register!" The man in the tan jacket growled before pulling a knife out of his pocket and, using his other hand, grabbed Hosni by the beard and held the knife close to his neck. François and Hosni froze. Their eyes met, Hosni's pleading and François' terrified.

"The register, you old bastard! Now!" Barked the robber. Hosni hurriedly opened the register without a word and pulled out all the coins and bills he could.

The robber shoved Hosni back from the counter and snatched up all the money on the counter before fleeing out the door with great haste. François stood still, his eyes transfixed on the back wall.

Then, stepped forward cautiously. He rang the service bell on the counter. Hosni groggily rose to his feet, his nose bleeding from his landing. Hosni was about to say something, but François cut him off.

"I'd like to redeem a ticket, please." François said in a shocked monotone before pulling the winning ticket from his pocket and handing it to the store owner, then lighting a cigarette, burning his own hand with the lighter as his hands shook so badly.

The police had one-hundred and one questions for François. 'What color was his hair?' 'What was he wearing?' 'How tall was he?'. But the artist was still on autopilot and didn't even remember answering any of them, but the questioning felt like it took hours. As he sat on the curb in front of the shop, a blanket provided by the police wrapped around him, François couldn't stop replaying the event over and over again in his head. Asking himself a question about the past as often as the scene happened in his head.