The Righter

Mike was still too flabbergasted to think straight. He led a boring, nondescript life, worked a boring job as a convenience store clerk, and had no significant impact on the world around him. Why would he, of all people be given this opportunity? And why had they all just shown up at the store?

“I know, you're wondering why we chose you,” said the man in the green spandex suit, “but trust me, we went through a very careful selection process.” The crowd of colorful superheros behind “The Granter” nodded enthusiastically.

“You have incredible moral character. You always try to do the right thing. You encourage others to do the same. You even chose the right power when we gave you the opportunity to have any that you wished. So, we're granting it – that's MY power, and all you have to do is shake my hand.”

“Mike Reeves, The Writer, huh?”

Mike shook the meaty, green-gloved hand and felt slight a tingle pass through his body.

“Yes, sir, and now it's done! Of course, you have to come up with your own suit and logo and such, but you've got the power of righting. When you see wrongdoing, all you need to do is lay your hand on the “perp” and he or she will instantly stop what they're doing and make amends.”

“Uh, wait...”

The Granter wasn't going to be distracted from his monologue. “No, don't thank us. It's our pleasure to give you what you've asked for and an honor to have you join us in our mutual quest to make Baltimore a safer place. See you out there!”

“But...”

It was too late. The Granter spun on his heel and in a flash, he and the other superheros were gone.