Plot Pieces

What's so great about being SUPER?

What's so great about being SUPER

Based on a question

Jillian Jennings is my best friend in the world. 

I'm not sure why exactly.

I means she's super model tall, super model thin, and super model beautiful.

Me?

I'm a 5'3" size 10 with a desperate need to wax my eyebrows.

But for some strange reason Jillian and I just get along. We've been close friends since high school when we discovered that both of us are just insanely unlucky.

It's the truth.

We discovered this during a mandatory self defense class in PE where we got partnered together.

Jillian's own amazing appearance is the fruit of her apparent bad luck. She's constantly getting her purse stolen, or being chased down dark allies. It must be awfully frightening for her. In an effort to protect herself over the years, Jillian continued taking self defense classes. 

Not that she really needs to I guess. 

You see being the perfect stereotypical damsel in distress has it's perks for Jillian. She's been saved by each superhero in this city at least twice. I think the Atomic Howler from three states over fished her out of the river after Aqua Shadow used her as a hostage during some kind of heist.

I only know this because Jillian adores rubbing it in my face as she heads off to another fabulous day as the weather girl for WHBQ Nationwide News.

Me?

Well I'm the Head of Catastrophic Events at Emergence Technologies; Inc. It sounds fancier than it is. I'm basically in charge of orchestrating city clean up after monumental disasters. With a city that's home to several different superheroes each with their own string of villains, I pretty much always have something on my desk.

I sometimes wish I got to keep the insane amount of money I make doing my job, but unfortunately that is not the case.

When you live in a town filled with superheroes certain things are bound to happen. Especially the closer you live to Downtown. 

There's a 1 in 10 chance of a super-fight causing a traffic jam during your morning commute.

There's a 1 in 20 chance that your bank will be robbed when you need to cash a check.

There's a 1 in 50 chance of having your apartment building hit by Starbright, or Eternal Phenix; our flying superheroes. It changes to a 1 in 15 chance if Broken Wing decides to come out of retirement.

There is also a 98% chance that at some point during your residency here in the Harlow Burrow of North City, that you'll become fed up with superheroes.

And if your name happens to be Dolores Irene Wilcox - yes it's a terrible name - then all of those statistics mean nothing to you.

I've lost seven, count them seven, vehicles to just as many superheroes. They've been used for chancing villains, and heroic landings, they've been tossed as a weapon, used as a shield, and turned into an exploding projectile. After the last one had a large cement gargoyle fall on it, I switched to public transportation.

I've had three superhero stand offs destroy, not just my building, but my actual apartment. Don't get me started on bank heists, subway accidents, and hospital bills.

Only Jillian knows what a magnificent magnet I am for superhero destruction. 

She finds it ironic considering my job.

I wish I found it ironic. 

Because here I am debating on going to the grocery store or not because I'm certain that some super person or other will crash through the place destroying the entire potato chip isle. Again.

The only place I seem to be safe is work.

If I could just convince them to let me live there.