This Is Where It Begins

Most times, the origins of a superpowered person starts with the manifestation of their powers. An accident triggers something deep inside or out of some act of desperation, they expose themselves to all sorts of chemicals, willing to put themselves through unendurable torture at the cost of their sanity.

Then there's Ivy, never knowing a life without superpowers. One day, she told me her father spoke of tree branches breaking through the windows, wrapping around her body to protect her as she screamed displeasure at being evicted from the safety of her mother's womb.

She learned how to handle her gifts easily, having the instruction manual ingrained in her, much like her sense of humor and fierce green eyes.

Otherwise, her childhood was fairly normal, picturesque even. Not like mine, where I was powerless in more ways than one. Her father showered her with praise and love, whereas mine preferred acid hate, burning away as much humanity as he could. My father couldn't stomach the idea of a "softie" leading the mob someday.

Our stories were never supposed to meld together, but circumstances don't care about what should or shouldn't happen. They don't care about who you are - good, evil, or gray.

If they did, I would have never found her surrounded by strangled lowlifes in an alleyway with vines covering the walls.

To Be Continued...