VECTOR IN DC

[Tom Hendricks POV] 

A lot of things have happened to me for the past three months since I’ve arrived in the DC Universe.

While adjusting to my new normal, it still fascinated me each time I saw humans with superpowers. Be it heroes or villains, I enjoyed watching them demonstrate their powers either on the news report on TV or from videos that were captured and posted by civilians who were fortunate enough to witness it live. 

Some might say it wasn’t a fortunate circumstance and call it unfortunate because people might get hurt, or it’s a very dangerous and unpredictable situation…blah blah…

For me it was exhilarating, shit happens everyday and we might as well get used to it. You either make the most of your situation and move forward or cower in fear and stay stagnant due to terror. 

As for me, I chose the former and decided on making the most of my second chance at life. I had received an email from an administration at my predecessor’s university which demanded I attend a meeting which would decide the fate of my academics, considering I missed an entire semester.

Although I only got this offer because they were informed about the accident and were reasonable enough to let me heal, both from the death of my family and from my amnesia. 

Indeed I attended the meeting and it so happened to be before the beginning of the new semester. At the meeting the decision they agreed on was for me to repeat the semester, which was basically telling me to stay back a year. 

Actually I was cool with that decision and I’ve also been reading at my free time, so I was prepared to resume college.

 Although this would actually be my second time attending college, I was a graduate in my past world and graduated with a very impressive result, so the only issue I had this time around was that it would be a bother doing it all over again for the second time. 

Attending lectures was cool and all but the stares directed towards me by people whom I was supposed to know gave me a feeling of awkwardness and I stared back at them at times in response so we both had our equal share of that inelegant feeling.

 I was delighted knowing most of my coursemates didn’t repeat the year because each time they saw me on campus, they tried exchanging pleasantries with me in hopes of me remembering who they were to me. But unfortunately I don’t have those memories and I tried my best to avoid conversations. 

The workout sessions at the gym proceeded smoothly and got me in good shape, even though I’m not as dedicated to daily workouts like I was in my previous life. 

The trainer at the gym called out to me during one of the sessions and asked why I always ended up doing only the exact amount of workout required for each exercise and not pushing myself a little further to go above the limit.

My response for him had been as blunt as the weight I was lifting."If I wanted to go above the limits I actually could, but I do not wish to do anything that isn’t a necessity and I don’t have to do.”

Thrown into a muse by the words I gave in response, he responded with a question to satisfy his curiosity. 

“I know that you could do more than you give, don’t you want to achieve buffed up muscles like mine?”

“Why would I want to stress about the build of a bodybuilder, when I am content with my tight and perfectly fit muscles.”

I was being honest with him, I would not wish to do anything beyond the required amount when I get visible results from the necessitated quantity. 

After living a life filled with hard work and dedication, I don’t want to repeat the same thing at my second chance at it. I want an easy going life, a relaxed one without much commitments.

Atlas I was successful at getting a job after a while of job hunting. I wanted an easy going one, a chill part time job which would not cause me any physical or mental strain. 

So I mostly hunted for jobs as a receptionist, a bartender, even as a barrister. After the long search I finally got a job as a bartender at a bar with a not so conspicuous name which was 'Gary’s Pub.'

The first time I walked into the bar it was so obvious that it was my first time there, the looks and stares directed towards me gave that hint. 

I ignored the stares and walked straight to the counter as they returned back to their previous activities and paid me no mind.

There was something about the bar which I just couldn’t put a finger on, I just had the feeling that if I got the job here then my life here would become more intoxicated for some reason. 

The person who stood behind the counter was a young lady who wore a white shirt, a waistcoat and black skirt. I guessed that was the uniform there after another person wearing similar outfits caught my sight at a far end corner clearing a table filled with empty bottles. 

I told the lady at the bar counter about my objective and she picked up a telephone then called someone, she told the person that there was someone who wanted a job. 

Few minutes later a man who seemed to be in his late forties came down from a stairway around the back, he went behind the counter and asked why I wanted a job there. 

He looked at me with an expression which plainly said 'do not fuck with me kid.'

A normal person my age would have been intimated by that look on his face but I wasn’t shaken, not even the slightest bit. It was better to just talk plainly and not beat around the bush as to my reason for wanting to work there. 

I looked at him with an unfazed expression on my face because I knew a person who easily gets intimidated could never work at a bar. I told him I was in college and wanted a part time job that would not involve labor as a side hustle. 

He stared at me for a while before letting out a mild laughter, he looked at me and said.

“You got the job kid, this place isn’t a place for pussies and you don’t seem like one to me. But do you have any experience with a bar?”

I answered frankly.“No sir, but I'm a quick study.”

“Okay kid, be here tomorrow at 4pm Linda will show you the ropes.”

When he said the name 'Linda' he gestured to the young lady behind the counter. And that’s how I got the job. I've been working there for almost 3 months now and one finally got to discover why the bar’s atmosphere had me excited. 

It was because that bar just so happened to be a safe ground away from the horrific crimes which take place at night in that city, a neutral ground where civilians and officers could leave the grudges outside and go in with a hate free heart while they drink the long day’s work stress away.

Although no one could tell if they were cops but I have an eye for recognizing them. The bottom line was that when they come to the bar, they leave their official duties outside and go in for a drink as civilians. 

The short time that I have worked there, I have seen weirdos sitting and drinking with other weirdos as they bragged about who's day was toughest. 

There is this excitement I often get when they talk about how fucked up their day was while I serve their drinks, it was like hearing a story from the actual source and not from a third person. For some reason which I don't know, stories hit differently when the teller is drunk. It's definitely because it is the alcohol speaking and pouring out their hearts. 

I tried not to get too familiar with any of them considering I don’t want any trouble or anything that might get me fired. So I mainly just do what bartenders do, respond to their complaints and be the man they could pour their drunken heart to. 

…

After a while adjusting to my new life and daily duties, everything finally felt normal like the easy life I had always wanted. Where I could just do whatever makes me happy and not bother about living up to anyone’s expectations. 

I got home from work that night at around 10:30 pm, tossed my cross bag on the couch then walked straight into the shower for a cold and refreshing bath. 

Subsequently, I finished my bath then wore a cozy black robe to keep me warm as I went into the kitchen and prepared warm milk to help me sleep like a baby that night. 

Thereafter, I sat on the dining table with my laptop placed on the table in front of me and my mug by the side as I took a sip every now and then while I did my research. 

Apart from my studies at school I still went ahead and started online courses just for the sake of learning. 

As I studied and took my online course for the night, I turned to get my notes so I could jot something that intrigued me when my right hand came in contact with my mug and was knocked off the table. 

Oh fuck! Was my reaction as I extended an arm to catch it but I couldn’t, and this was where things got interesting. Before the mug could make contact with the group, it froze in mid air without a spill of its content. 

Yep! You guessed it, shit is about to get a little more interesting around here. 

My immediate response was.“Holy crap." It baffled me as I stared at the frozen mug for about 5 seconds with my arm still stretched out before it continued its motion and fell to the ground but without a dent on it, my milk spilled and the ground needed cleaning but I wasn’t paying attention to that. 

The only thought in my head right now is.“Just when I thought things couldn’t get anymore exciting, something as exhilarating as this happens.”