Monster-Killer

After the disaster, nearly everyone gained power of some kind; strength. Speed. Something.

Nearly all of the survivors, that is.

Some of them tried to ignore it. That didn't last long. Factions formed quickly; some based on ethnicity or former nationality, others just centered around particular strongmen. That's not my problem. I don't choose sides.

But there are those who choose no faction. They're mad or senseless. While everyone else tries to build back up, for their own reasons, of course, the marauders just try to tear everything down. Every one of them has their own reason. Sociopathy. Pyromania. Spite. Or old-fashioned madness. And their power means that, like any of us, they have the capability to do terrible damage.

It's my job to kill them.

I may be the most powerful person alive today, though the loss of the transoceanic lines means that it's impossible to tell. I do know that I have the strength to lift a small building, with the right leverage, and grenades and other explosive weapons can't really do any permanent damage to me. It hurts like anything, but it's not enough to stop me. I haven't yet found the weapon yet that will. That's why I'm still breathing.

I don't look much like I used to. Before the disaster. I mourned. Everyone did. My husband. My children. My parents, my nephews and nieces... my brother... and me. I'm alive, at least. But... I'm not who I used to be. Form reflects function.

Nothing's what it used to be. All the old foundations and certainties are gone. But I've found my purpose. I keep the new civilization safe. I kill monsters.