You always have your haters, so I always like to say--you just have to ignore them and work hard so one day they have to look up at you because they now work for you. Except for my case, where what I say is not quite my reality and more like a pleasant dreamscape I'll never actually attain. No one is ever going to work for me, not at the moment at least.

I wouldn't say the horn blared the arrival of the last half hour before closing; no, it was more like the sad moan of an overworked cow who had just given the last ounce of milk for its calf but was still trying to be positive. Or maybe it was a weird alien-hybrid of said cow with a foghorn and a nasally-challenged wolf. However many ways I tried to describe it, the Foggy City's First Bank's work clock was on its last legs, and I felt like I could sympathize with it.

I sighed as rolled over and over again with my finger the little stress ball toy shaped like a globe that my best friend had given me—something about taking over the world with all of my gusto and being able to conquer everything that came my way. She had felt like she was trying to give me hope for my adult life and give me some positivity for what amounted to too much cynicism and realism in a twenty-one year old's body.

Of course, what dreams did I have to look forward to? I had no superpowers, was cursed with a heaping tablespoon of common sense, and had no special skills other than a WPM speed of 74, a penchant for getting myself into stupid situations, and a complete oblivion to when someone was flirting with me. Which aren't really skills but more like curses, but hey they were what I had to brag about, when I went out and had a situation where I was supposed to brag about something I did well, of course. I was, for all intents and purposes, a completely average Jill of all trades.

This was Windy City—where half the population was born with superpowers which made the rest of us simple dwellers on the lower rungs of society. And it doesn't get much lower than being the lowest on the lowest rung, let me tell you. I won't be getting a pay raise ever. Or a year-end bonus. But I do get tax breaks which come in handy.

I jerked as the phone rang and my arm moved to pick up the landline before I could stop it. Oh the tragedy of my baneful existence, oh what horrid being lay in front of me, or what possible ecstasy lay just beyond the bend? It was more of a habit really. The curse of the receptionist to always pick up the phone and be pleasant when you don't feel it.

My voice was not her own; rather, it morphed into some sort of mechanical Barbie with all of the youth, exuberance, and excitability programmed into me and driven by need of a steady paycheck. "Hello, my name is Jane Smith. On behalf of Foggy City First Bank, home of Supers and Unpowered's alike, how may I help you today?"

My fingers tapped my keyboard with lightning speed as I tried to enter the caller's name and phone number from the phone system's screen, and the ID number that they rattled off like a freight train on a Star Wars hypership fitted with Asgardian technology going through a wormhole with all the grace of a space tumbleweed. Seriously, do people not realize I'm human and have to fill out paperwork every time they call? And that I can only go so fast without having to make you and me feel more stupid by asking you to repeat it four times? And God help me if they mumble.

I groaned inwardly--for I could never let the person on the phone hear my tone of voice reflect the verbal equivalent of my eyes sinking back into the recesses of my hollow brain--as I stopped typing and hit the backspace key. If people would only call the right place.

I then silently wished I could hit the backspace key on my life with the now disappearing info. "I'm sorry, ma'am; but I'm afraid we don't sell bunkers for the coming apocalypse. If you'd like, I could give you the number to the hardware store?"

Three email notifications popped up on my computer screen, and my phone flashed with two texts from my landlord, a missed call from my father, and a notification that it had started to rain outside.

I glanced up as a man walked into our section of the first floor of the skyscraper, dripping water all over the freshly washed marble floor and squeaking as his rubber soles rubbed against the floor. Now I will have to call Dan to clean up the foyer.

But I smiled and held up a finger as I read the phone number from the hardware store's website to the person on the phone. "Not a problem, ma'am—I hope you find what you are looking for. Yes, ma'am—thank you—goodbye."

I smiled as I glanced up and put on my most pleasant face, which I'm told still looks like a granite sculpture--with more of the monotony and lack of emotion and less of the hot factor of sculpted features. "How may I help you today, sir?"

He fiddled with the pen that was laying on the counter, and looked over our flyers. He seemed thoughtful, and a little shy.

I blinked, letting him take his time, as I turned back to my computer, and checked the emails. I accidently kicked my bag as I shifted in my seat, and glanced down at the mess of computer parts in my bag, which was conveniently--not really--stuck at an odd angle by my feet. Oh, yeah I had forgot about that.

"I want to open an account," the man said.

I peeked over my computer screen at him, and nodded, moving to another open tab on the desktop. "May I have your name, and ID number?"

***

I yawned as I locked the door behind me, then walked through the hallway to the skyscraper's main entrance. It served the bank, several business headquarters, a few government outbranch agencies, a couple of advertising offices, a lobbying firm, and a testing center for graduate student applicants.

I nodded to the Super sitting at the desk, his bright green and gold uniform almost glowing in the moonlight. "Goodnight, Terra."

He nodded his head to me , then turned back to whatever it was he was doing. Although I had to admit I did feel safer having a super as a security guard, even if he was a somewhat illogical choice for the building. I mean--a guy who broke up the earth and moved foundations being in charge of a forty-floor skyscraper? The management people in the HR department really didn't think that one out.

I checked my time as I stepped into the cold night air, feeling the wet damp of the earlier rainfall still lingering in the air. Three blocks down the street, the lonely echo of the bullet train's horn blared through the air, announcing the last train had left the station.

The streets, once busy and bustling during daylight, were somewhat quieter on this side of the city. I started down the street, shoving my hands into my coat pockets as I trudged along the sidewalk, walking around puddles that pooled in the corners of the buildings.

The local superheroes came out at night to patrol, and the crime rates had diminished ever since supers had been protected from hate crimes. The local police forces, made up of Unpowered people, did their own job of keeping Unpowered and Supers safe.

I stopped on the corner, tapping my foot as I stared down the side street that led to downtown. She's late.

"Are you in need of assistance?" a deep voice called to me .

I spun around, seeing just the empty street behind me. I felt an icy breeze sweep over me, and I slowly turned around as the streetlamp flickered, seeing ice start to creep over the street and the side of the skyscraper, little icicles hanging from the streetlamp.

A shadow stepped from the wall of the building, a small tinkling sound like bells accompanying it's movements. The streetlamp fizzled and popped as the bulb blew out, leaving only the pale moonlight above to illuminate the area.

I stepped backward as the figure faced me. He--at least, I think it was probably a he--was dressed in dark clothes that fit his form, but provided warmth. His hood obscured most of his face, and I could see no defining features. He reached his hand out to me, his sleeve pulling up to reveal skin as pale as snow and glowing softly in the moonlight.

It's a blooming vampire.

I turned and ran, using my hand to press the emergency bracelet around my wrist praying that the supers would respond quickly.

I turned the corner and froze, my eyes widening as I saw the glass on the front of the skyscraper bend, then explode outward.

Not again.