Worst Day Ever (open)

Some days are good, some days are bad, some days are so horrible, you wish you never got out of bed. Today was one of those days for Brandon. He was walking home from work, grumbling to himself about the stupidity of bosses. His boss had suspended him for the day, and sent him home, because he refused to remove his goggles. He needed those goggles, they kept him safe, when he used his powers.

You see, Brandon was a Mutant. One of the few that never took 'sides' in the oddball psudowar that was going on between the X-men, the Brotherhood, and everyone else. He was just trying to make a living for himself. Luckily, his boss was mutant-friendly, one of the few. Just for whatever reason, his boss suddenly took issue with his goggles.

He always wore them, even to the interview. Brandon's boss is the one who did the interviews too, thinking it were best if he got to know all the employees personally. The change was just so...different. The young man wondered what caused it.

While he was lost in thought, someone called out to him, calling him a 'mutie' or something like that. Was a stupid term other humans had for mutants. Brandon wasn't listening, lost in his thoughts. Sadly, however, this lost-in-thought would seem to work into the 'bad luck' he was pulling this day.

He fell forward suddenly, pain exploading from the back of his head, and causing him to see stars, before almost blacking out. He stumbled to his feet, running forward a decient distance before he's able to turn around, to see what caused it.

There was an irate looking man, standing with an iron pipe, likely pulled from some dumpster somewhere, if the rust on it was any indication. "You freaks need to die!" he shouted, charging at Brandon again.

Brandon was dumbstruck for a moment, then remembered his eyes marked him as a mutant, what with the bright red eyes and all. The mutant sighed heavily, and assumed the 'front stance' he had from karate all those years ago. Some things are just never forgotten, it seems. Once the man was in range of his fist, he struck upwards, to counter the downward swing of the irate individual.

With a soft 'wumph' he knocked the metal pipe from the man's hands, sending it flying into a wall, knocking a small chunk of it out, before it clattered to the ground loudly. The man cried out, and ran off, flailing his arms like a madman.

Brandon watched for a moment, before sighing heavily, and looking down at his hands, covered in tiny scars. He looked up again, only to see the crazy man yelling at some cops, and waving a hand in Brandon's direction.

"Oh, screw THAT." he said, turning and running, forcing his goggles down over his eyes as he did. "Let's try out the jumping thing." he said, looking up, seeing a building with a large flag pole about halfway up it's length. "Hup!" he said loudly, firing his pressure waves at the ground, making him fly up into the air, using the momentum from running, as well as the power to jump super high.

"Oh shit!" he said, grabbing at the pole, and missing completely. He went up, higher, and higher. Brandon called out, now scared, as he watched the roof of the skyscraper flying past him. "No, no, no, no...." he said, starting to flail his arms and legs, looking around to see if there was anything he could grab onto, as his upward momentum slowed, and he started to fall back towards the ground. "Oh God, I don't wanna die!" he said, starting to fall towards the ground. He had two choices, catch teh flag pole, and hope his arms didn't rip off, or fall to the ground and die. Neither seemed too fun, he thought, as he began to twist through the air.

He grabbed at the pole, managing to catch it. "All ri-" he started to say, stopping as the pole broke off in his hands, once his weight hit it. "Shiiiiit!" he shouted again, starting to fall towards the ground, back first. This is it, he thought, I'm gonna die.