It was a crisp night, the kind where the city lights shone like scattered diamonds, glinting against the black velvet of the sky. I zipped through the streets, a blur to anyone who might've looked. My heart thrummed in sync with the beat of my shoes slapping the pavement, my pizza box clutched tightly in hand. The wind whipped around me, tugging at my jacket, but I didn't feel it. Running was my element - my escape. I'd been doing this for three months now, delivering pizzas faster than anyone could dream, and I loved it. The generous tips were icing on the cake, but no one knew how I did it. No one knew my secret.
Tonight, however, something felt different. I'd just dropped off a large order at a high-rise when I saw it: a blur of movement atop a nearby rooftop. At first, I thought it was just a trick of the eyes, the city's neon lights playing tricks, but there it was again. A figure - dressed in all black, no more than a silhouette against the moon - darted from building to building with a grace I'd never seen. It was impossible, like watching a bird glide through an unbroken sky. Intrigued, I slowed down, the pizza still warm in my hand, my curiosity gnawing at me like an itch I couldn't scratch.
I followed him at a careful distance, the wind now biting at my face as I dashed through alleyways and up staircases, my feet leaving barely a trace. The figure didn't seem to notice me, focused on his path. Eventually, he landed on the rooftop of a jewelry store, a building that was far too high for any normal person to scale. My heart skipped a beat as I saw him move with fluid precision, slipping through a skylight as if the law of gravity was merely a suggestion to him. He was a superhuman - just like me.
But what happened next froze me in place. I watched as he rummaged through the store, expertly pulling out diamonds, gold, and watches, all of it spilling into a large duffel bag. My breath caught in my throat. This wasn't some reckless act of heroism, this was theft. The weight of the pizza in my hand felt suddenly insignificant, like a distant memory. I was caught in a whirlwind of thoughts. I'd been running for so long, hiding myself from the world, pretending that my powers were nothing but a gift to be kept in secret. Yet here was someone using their power to destroy, to take what wasn't theirs. Was it a choice I could make?
The bag was almost full, the thief's movements quick, practiced. And in that moment, I had a choice: to turn away, to keep running, to preserve my quiet life - or to act. The pizza in my hand was no longer just a meal; it was the last vestige of normality in a world I was just beginning to understand. I could feel the weight of my decision, the responsibility pressing against my chest like the storm clouds gathering in the sky. My superhuman speed had gotten me so far, kept me hidden - but I knew now that hiding wasn't always the answer. The pizza was forgotten. I took a breath, set it down gently, and made my move.
