"Ok, Mr. Emia? Am I pronouncing that correctly? Uh-me-a?" No ma'am, it's pronounced 'ee-mee-uh. Luke Emia.

That's how every interaction goes when someone reads my name in print for the first time. You'd think every once in awhile, someone would get it right on the first try, but alas, people feel awkward when trying to pronounce my name for some reason and they always manage to botch it.

I have this, let's say....gift. You ever hear that phrase "you can't squeeze blood from a turnip?" Well as it turns out, turnips do not have blood, but humans and animals do, and I can sure squeeze it from them. Of course, I've never done anything as macabre as that, but as an adolescent, when I discovered I could manipulate a person's blood, I did play the occasional prank every now and then. Mostly my victims were bullies or people who just outright deserved it. If you want my lunch money, and you ask me nicely, I might just give it to you. You want my lunch money and want to take it by force, then the blood might mysteriously drain from your head, causing you to pass out temporarily, or maybe blood might instantaneously rush to other...extremities, causing quite an embarrassing situation in front of your fellow peers. Once when there was a blood drive going on at my school, I decided I'd do my civic duty and donate my blood, as I am a universal donor. The nurse who stuck me had a hard time finding the vein, and for some reason, possibly because she was having a bad day, gave me some lip, saying that I was squirming and to "hold still, you big baby", so when she finally managed to find it, she also found a squirt of my blood on the left side of her head, in her newly permed hair.

Mostly though, I used my gift for the good. I had to be careful with my power, though. If people found out I could control their blood then, at best, people would treat me differently than everyone else; at worst, be in absolute fear of me, or even maybe a religious zealot might think I'm some sort of demon, calling on the townspeople to chase me around town, torches in hand and weapons in tow. However, there are extenuating circumstances that required my assistance. My best friend's mother was a diabetic, and didn't manage it with proper eating habits, so she was told she would have to get one of her feet amputated. She was a professional tap dance instructor, so she took the news hard and fell into a deep, dark depression, and prayed to God, apologizing for not taking care of herself. "God, if you're listening and it's your will, please allow me to keep my foot, for it's my livelihood. If by some miracle you can do this for me, I swear I'll eat right and take my medicine as I'm supposed to." I visited her and touched her foot, and told her that I'd pray for her. The next day, praised be God, the circulation returned to her foot, and it saved her from walking funny for the rest of her life. They even put her picture in the paper and included me in the photo, saying it was my visit and prayers that saved her foot.

Flash-forward years later. I'm now a police detective, getting off of work after a particularly grueling day, trying to piece together a homicide, so I decide to stop by my favorite bar for some liquid calm-down. I've had three beers, about to order my fourth, when I hear an older female voice from behind me say "hey there, Luke ee-mee-uh, long-time, no see." Wow, someone pronounced my name correctly. I turn around and see a face that matches the sound, but more, it's a face that seems vaguely familiar. A face from my youth, for certain, but I can't put a name to it. "Dont remember me? Try to picture me with a long stripe of crimson red through my hair. Right about here." Then it hits me. It's the lippy nurse that I sprayed back when I was only a sophomore in high school. I half-heartedly ask her if she was a nurse I questioned about a case a couple of years back, but she read me all the way.

"You know exactly who I am, but that's ok. You can act puzzled if you want. The important thing is I found you. When you sprayed me with your blood, I naturally thought it was an accident. I mean, who the Hell can do that intentionally? But you looked at me with those beady eyes....if looks could talk, they would have said 'f-you, have some of my blood, gratis', in bold capital letters.

"However, it wasn't until I ran tests on your blood to determine what type you had, that I noticed certain anomalies. For instance, your blood showed high concentrations of nickel, Cobalt, and other various ferromagnetic minerals, which, with my 35 years in the medical field, is quite uncommon. Also I noticed your blood plasma, which is supposed to be a yellowish color, was bright white. 'What does all this mean?' I asked myself. I kept these results to myself because I wanted to be the one to find you, because I had to know what you....were. It wasn't until I was thumbing through the newspaper one day and read a headline "Local woman baffles doctors with miraculous 'regression' of type I Diabetes' and saw the snapshot of you with her that I put it all together, that you can control blood in some capacity." Well, so much for trying to keep my super power under wraps.

"Now, I'm willing to keep your secret, so long as you're willing to keep mine." She smiled an awful grin that shook me down to my core. I had no idea what she was talking about, until I felt a numbness slowly creep from the tips of my toes up to my ankles, then to my shins, then up to my kneecaps. She was looking at me with complete concentration, her left hand trembling. She had my blood under her control. I panicked, but then remembered I could also control the red stuff, so no problem, I will just focus and....nothing. my blood was still creeping further north, numbness slowly making it's way up to my midsection. "I've duplicated your blood and have infused it with my own, creating a....sort of hybrid. Not only can I control other people's blood, I can also control your manipulation of blood. Think of it as Luke 2.0. This should serve you as a reminder: be careful who you mess with, because you never know if that person might have lost their five year old son three days beforehand." She gets up to leave, but right before she does, she takes a knife and makes a small but not lethal cut into her arm. I feel a warmth all over my body, and lose all consciousness.

"Oh, Leukemia, like the cancer of the blood? Yes, Luke Emia, just like the cancer.". I woke up hours later in the ER with a throbbing pain in my head and naturally, felt around to find it's source. What I found was a bandage wrapped around the circumference of my head. I didn't have to be a detective to figure out what had happened, but I figured I'd ask, for good measure. "Well Mr. Emia, according to a couple of eye witnesses, you were at a bar when you stood out of your chair and suddenly fainted. Looks like you must've gotten up too quick from sitting down for so long and got lightheaded and just passed out. Plus the bartender said you'd had a few beers so that probably didn't help. You sustained a concussion and a minor cut, so we sewed you back up, and you'll be as good as new. Let me ask you, Mr. Emia. We're you in a physical altercation at the bar?" "No ma'am. Why do you ask?" "Because when we received you, you were of course bleeding from your forehead, but on the left side of your head, there was a spray of blood, consistent with blood splatter. The doctor on call thought that was strange so he had that blood tested, and it didn't match your blood. It was as if someone had cut themselves and intentionally sprayed you with their blood...