Powerless — Tracey Ward

My name is Max Campbell and I do not have a superpower. I don't need one. I have a genius level IQ, nerves of steel, and great hair. I've been trained to be a healer and a killer by some of the most elite soldiers in the world, and I excel at the task. No tricks. No cheat codes. Just me. Pure, unaltered, awesome me. Would it be cool to be able to walk through walls or fly faster than a fart? Hell yes, of course it would, but then I'd owe something to the madman who made me, and I don't write Thank You cards. Those two words have always come hard for me, though never as hard as the one I'm choking on now. Goodbye. The gun in my hand is steady. It waits patient as the sun scorching it's way across the Moroccan sky. I should pull the trigger. I should end this, all of it, but not yet. Not until I'm sure. I have to remember what got us here, what made it all feel inevitable. Inescapable. The train, the fire, the rain. Starbursts and lemon drops. What does it all mean? I'm a friggin' genius and I'm still not entirely sure. But I'll tell you everything, the whole story, and maybe you'll see it clearer than I do. Maybe we can find another way out, though we'll have to hurry. We're running out of time...