"Crumbling Down" by Victor Wyatt

Right, I don't know what sort of order Mr Wellard-Bridger is compiling these, but if it's alphabetical or age-orientated I'm going to be pretty late on. You see, I'm the second oldest of all the ACES, behind only Amethee, but there's no contest there. I'm sort of the leader around here - a TA back at base and the co-ordinator out in the field. I've got the most experience, most training, most anything out of all of the students, and that's why I'm here.

So I'm going to crack on with this, let you know the spiel I give to every new recruit we break in. Welcome to the team, muchacho.

I grew up in Presidio, Texas. A real dustbowl of a place, hot and dry. With over a dozen mines nearby it's barely changed since the gold rush. Still my home though, and I miss it like you miss water in the middle of the desert.

Spent most of my time playing football. Presidio was supposed to be a "baseball town" but that wasn't my thing. There's no better rush than scoring a touchdown, and baseball just ain't the same. Much better workout too - you don't get to be the most naturally muscular member of a superhero team by running round a little diamond. No, you need a real man's sport, so a bunch of my buddies had to start a casual team when our school dropped it in favour of baseball, but soon we were in the big leagues.

Now, you can probably tell that I was a bit of a jock. And that means that I wasn't always the best student, or at least not when I was off the sports field. Playing truant wasn't an irregular occurrence for me, and it was exactly what I was doing on the day I got my powers.

A bunch of us guys on the football team liked to head down to one of the mines near the town. We saw all the signs talking about how dangerous it was and that we should keep out, but we didn't care. Even now that I know it was filled with uranium and heavy explosives I still don't think we would have stopped going.

It was just the place we went to play hooky, there ain't nothing else about it. We'd drive down there, far away from anyone who could make a noise complaint and blasted rock music out of our speakers. We'd dare each other to go into the mine, see who could go the furthest - I was always the one to venture deepest.

Our sweet venture went south one day, just like all good things do. My friend Wayne was a real pyro, always flicking his Zippo on and off, never without a cigarette dangling from his mouth. He went in with a couple of girls, convinced that they were impressed by his mullet. Stupid bastard decided to light up in the cave, and the miners that used to work there hadn't cleared out their crap properly.

There was this almighty flash of light and a searing pain. It all happened so quick that I didn't know what had happened until I woke up. There was a huge crater where the mine, and my friends, used to be. I felt dizzy and I threw up a little. Looking for something to lean on I saw that my old jalopy was now a smouldering chassis. There were no signs of movement from anyone around, and the cave itself was pretty much gone, so I had to assume I was the only one left. I threw up again, and then passed out.

I woke up this time with a fireman leaning over me. A friend of mine named George Baker was driving past and felt the explosion so decided to call the local fire brigade after his car was forced off the road by the blast. If he hadn't have been going wherever he was going I would have either had to walk back to town or just never get up, so I owe him my life.

Things weren't the same around town after that. Survivor's guilt doesn't come close to explaining how I felt about everything. How the Hell did I survive and everyone else didn't? It was crazy, but for a while, guilt was the only problem I had. Being honest, that was one of the easier parts of my misadventure. It got a lot worse when I passed out at training one day.

I woke up in the hospital. When the mine blew up everyone was too preoccupied with how I survived to worry about the possible effects of the uranium in the mine. Turns out I had radiation sickness, that's why I fainted. I was in hospital for a while, with an IV drip in slowly healing me. All I was worried about was whether or not I'd be able to play football again.

Turns out I could. The radiation didn't seem to affect me that much and the doctors said it dissipated after a while with no real ill effects, so that was a real bonus. Their only concern was that it all happened the way it happened - quick and easy. The sheer lack of pain was a medical miracle.

So I was discharged, and life went back to normal for a while. Sucking at school and kicking serious ass on the pitch. My perfect little life was exactly how I wanted it. Until our biggest game of the season.

We'd gotten to the playoffs. Our little team of jocks that were too rough to play baseball had taken the Blue Devils all the way to the playoffs for the first time since the early 90s, and after the catastrophe at the mine the whole town had rallied around us. The underdogs had taken it to the big leagues and we were gonna get the win, and if we lost we weren't doing it easy.

It was getting late in the game and we were drawing with nothing on each side. We'd been playing defensively all game and it was time to blitz them in the final sprint now they'd tired themselves out so they couldn't mount a comeback. We got the ball and we drove it down, touchdown with two minutes to go. The game was ours.

We were all going crazy, it was intense. I used to be able to do backflips at the point - don't know if I still can, haven't tried since - so I decided to celebrate in style. But as soon as my feet touched the ground my world shifted sideways. Literal and figuratively.

Dirt and grass erupted upwards from the middle of the pitch, along with a burst of flame and a shockwave that knocked everyone back. As we all scrambled to get up, the rest of the pitch started to cave into the hole that was created. The whole crowd started to panic. There were screams as hundreds of people struggled against both gravity and the crowd to escape the impending doom that surely awaited anyone who fell into the pit.

It was like a minefield. Every step I took it seemed like there was another explosion launching more people skywards. Screams rang in my ears when the explosions weren't drowning them out. It was horrible.

I reached the edge of the pitch and threw myself onto the concrete in the hopes that I would be safer there. The screams continued, and I felt feet pounding my back as more people ran from the field. But the explosions had stopped.

I waited for silence. I don't know why, but I felt like I couldn't move. Not until I knew that everyone that could go had gone. Only then did I stand up and look around.

All around me was destruction. Our pitch was gone, just a hole. There were bodies scattered around the place, in the hole, in the stands. All in impossible positions, broken beyond repair.

What could I have done? Your brain can't comprehend images like that, can't figure out a reaction. I just sat down. Sat down and didn't move for about three hours. Until the emergency services got to me, after sifting through the more important things in this catastrophe.

When the emergency services found me I was in a catatonic state. I was rushed into hospital to make sure I was alright, but they couldn't find anything wrong. I was asked to stay in for a few extra days though, because a specialist had heard what had happened and was coming all the way from Norway to check me out for a research project or something.

This specialist was a strange guy. The only man I've ever seen with mutton chops. Big brown things, they were magnificent. Anyway, that's not exactly pertinent so don't worry about the dude's facial hair. He took some blood and asked if I wouldn't mind staying for a while longer, but he left me with some liaison-type guy to keep me occupied. He was German, but spoke really good English, so we sat and talked for a couple hours until mutton chops came back.

So after a while the specialist came back with a pretty bad look on his face. He whispered something to the German and then his face dropped in exactly the same way. Then he nodded and mutton chops left the room.

"Now Mr Wyatt, I'm afraid that what I'm about to tell you won't be easy to hear," said the German as he stood up. "The catastrophe at your football game. We have reason to believe that you had a part to play in - "

"Wait, stop," I cut him off. "I saw those bodies. I knew some of those people. Don't you dare blame this on me. You can't blame it on me."

"No, you don't understand. I'm not saying you killed them, but you caused the catastrophe."

"I understand you perfectly well, so you better stop right now."

I jumped out of bed and his eyes widened, but his reactions were crazy. My feet hadn't even touched the floor when he'd swept my legs out from under me and dropped me onto my back. With his hand pushing down hard on my chest he got down on his knees and lowered his face down to mine and whispered in my ear.

"When the mine exploded you not only absorbed the radiation, but the blast as well. That is why you were unharmed. But all of that energy is inside you, and for some reason that energy is transferred when your feet touch the ground with enough force. After your backflip at the playoff game you exerted enough force to free some of that energy, causing the initial blast, and your panicked footfalls in the run out of the stadium caused the following explosions. So for the sake of the hundreds of innocent people in this hospital, you will not step on the floor."

He lifted me up of the floor and then placed me on the bed. We sat in silence for about fifteen minutes before he broke it.

"The reason we came is because we want to recruit you. I know this is a difficult time, and it's not easy news to hear, but there are other forces at play here and we couldn't wait any longer."

"Recruit me for what? You don't seem like a talent scout, and I know I'm not that good at football."

"No, something different. Something more serious. We're putting together a team of people like you."

"And by that you mean freaks?"

"That's a very harsh term, Mr Wyatt. We prefer to use 'scientific anomalies'."

"And what do you want me for?"

"We could help you hone your powers, and in return you lead our team of individuals with abilities just like yours."

I needed time to think, to process everything. I'd just found out that I was responsible for the deaths of possibly dozens of people in my town, and now this man was offering me the responsibility of looking after other people with abilities just as volatile as mine, when I didn't even have my own under control.

"I know what you're thinking," said my insulting companion. "I've been in your situation, minus the whole 'crazy superpowers' part, and you need to trust me when I say that it gets better."

"Fine, I'll do it," I said, half reluctantly, half purposefully. I knew that I needed to learn how much o control what I could do, and as much as it meant I couldn't see my family I knew I wouldn't be able to anyway if a simple footstep could level my house.

So that's about it really. Volss, Mr Helstrom that is, told my family about everything, since I was too torn up to see them. I was transported from hospital to van and van to boat in one of those transport trolley things Hannibal Lecter was carted around in. I ended up training in some abandoned quarry in some isolated part of Russia until I was ready to be moved to The Academy. Since then I've been teaching more and more new recruits how to handle things nowhere near as bad as what I had to deal with.

I hope this has helped, the therapeutic aspect stopped for me after I'd told this about a dozen times, but at least now I've got a script to read from.