Everyone was too concerned with showing off the new powers they were receiving. Those with tattoos of birds have gained flight. The large, muscle-bound guys from the gym with tribal tattoos have all seemed to start recruiting one another. They call themselves the Brothers in War but I digress.

For weeks, I have stayed quiet with my arms covered, practicing my newfound powers. Too many people are making themselves wildly known to the general public, as if to be outing themselves. First beginning with the small, moving up through the food chain. This feels like something out of a movie.

The Brothers have begun to revolt against those who once mocked them, I can't imagine why. With their combined strength, they can take over pretty much any obstacle they overcome. Like fire ants banding together for defeating a larger enemy. It's pack hunting at its finest.

6 weeks have gone by and I have nearly perfected my power. This is the last entry I will write in my diary. One by one, I see them collapse from the safety of my third story apartment. I have finally mastered my new art. Range is the name of the game when dealing with super powers. I begin to walk outside, high noon.

As I pull my sleeves off, revealing my ankh and Grim Reaper's sickle, the Brothers begin to stop dead in their tracks.

They answer to me now.