Our powers had been stolen long ago and stored on a square cartridge in the file cabinets within the cement-walled warehouse, which resembled both a castle and a jail.
The cabinets flew open and the people began to search for their cartridge. None had labels, names, numbers or other identifying markers. We ran our hands along each of them.
For some, their hands automatically stopped on top of the cartridge that belonged to them. Their fingers of their own accord grabbed it.
Others saw a vision of their cabinet and the precise placement of their cartridge.
Most knew by gut instinct.
With cartridge in hand, they began to assemble in a circle. One by one they were called to the center of the circle. Assisted by the elder known as the Loner, they reunited with their superpower. The cartridge was held to their chest, then it effortlessly dissolved within them.
A light wave rolled through their body and from an organ emerged a symbol of their unique superpower:
A torch from a stomach
A rainbow from the heart
A sword from the kidney
A book from the liver
A waterfall from the skin
Celebration erupted. People threw their arms up in praise, dropped to their knees, laughing and crying and dancing.
My cartridge was in hand, still not yet assimilated within my body when the faceless men in black came.
They fired their weapons, shooting red beams of light into the crowd.
Those that had united with their superpowers began to fight back with fire and waves and rainbows and swords and books, but just being newly born into their power and taken by surprise, their aim was off and soon they were arrested.
I snuck away to a darkened room and dropped to the floor. I shoved my cartridge on a nearby bookshelf, behind a few dusty cassette tapes and crumbled papers.
Just then, a faceless man entered and pulled me up by my neck. My feet barely touched the floor as he dragged me out.
I felt a jab in my left forearm: a syringe. A hot liquid shot up my arm and when it reached my heart, I awoke knowing this was not a dream at all.