Note: this is kind of loosely based on a very good book, and very different take on the superhero genre: Those Who Walk in Darkness, by John Ridley. I suggest checking it out if you enjoy my humble story.

What happens when humanity gets tired of gods in their midst?

The superhero "Age" began in 1942 when Spitfire and Blitzkrieg fought each other to a standstill over the African desert. Their battle may have been a draw but Rommel's Afrikakorp didn't fair so well.

Before long there wasn't a large battle fought during the war that didn't have a super or two involved. Rising Sun and American Eagle went at it in the Pacific. Red Star fought The Ubermensch in Stalingrad. The Legion and Le Masque tangled in Paris a time or two. It was all very exciting and fun. American Eagle hawked e bonds when he wasn't fighting over Europe or the Pacific.

When Hammer and Sickle ripped Iron Cross to shreds in Berlin it suddenly became less fun. The people at home didn't see this, of course, but the other supers did. Things changed then. It wasn't propaganda anymore, suddenly, like the rest of the war, supers became deadly serious.

Blitzkrieg died during the Battle of Berlin, killed by Red Star over the Reichstag. School children in Great Britain watched newsreels of Spitfire's speech over his body for decades after the war.

American Eagle captured Rising Sun during the Battle of Okinawa, in June 1945, effectively putting Japan out of the superhero business. Then the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki put American Eagle and the rest out of the business of war.

Superheroes went back to their countries and were met with parades and medals and then forgotten as the work of rebuilding took over. Heroes and normals alike thought things would go back to the way they were before the outbreak of war but some bottles, once opened, can never be closed again.

The first recorded act committed by a super powered villain happened in 1948 in New York City when Malice robbed a bank, using bolts of green energy to take the vault apart then the police who tried to stop him. He got away with $50,000 and left behind a trail of dead and dying that stretched three city blocks. The brazen daylight robbery lured American Eagle out of his comfortable retirement and when Malice attacked another bank, American Eagle tried to stop him. a shiny new FBI badge pinned to his familiar uniform.

The image of that melted badge running down American Eagle's burnt corpse was irrevocably seared into the minds of Americans that day. Malice was taken down but the loss of a Great American Hero shook the country to the core.

It took two months for new heroes to make their presence known. Liberty Belle took the mantle of American Eagle in New York City. Starburst and Flashfire soon followed and the first hero team, The Guardians, was born.

More followed, all over the country. Suddenly there was an explosion of super powered men and women, fighting in the air, fighting in the street. Super powered battles, once an abstract in newsreels from foreign countries, became all too real. What seemed exciting was now terrifying, as titans battled each other in American streets.

Buildings fell, lives were lost, and the public tolerance for supers dropped. Every ruined city street, every rubble filled alley, every death, just added to the growing public anger.

The supers were oblivious. The heroes kept trying to stop the villains and normal men and women suffered.

Excerpts from a lecture at Columbia University, presented by Johnathan Ian Edwards, PhD.
May 18, 2011

"One can make the argument that there wasn't any single event that turned the whole of the country against super powered individuals, rather a lengthy series of events that caused a smoldering hatred. The Battle between Year Zero and Rampage in Chicago in 1966 that caused the deaths of 262 people. The 1973 battle between the Jade Archer and Obsidian, 183 dead. Fury vs. Ladyhawk in 1984, 79 dead. On and on, large and small battle all over the country, all tragically similar in that dozens or hundreds died. The anger simmered and boiled and then the unthinkable happened, and the simmering anger turned into a bonfire, fueled by the bodies of the 500,000 who died in an instant because one super hero, Golden, failed to stop Doctor Death's doomsday device. No one, Doctor Death especially, I would assume, thought it would actually happen. This event in 1998 wasn't the first time he had held a city hostage with threats of mass destruction. It seemed almost a game to him. Only this time the heroes failed to stop him, and his bluff was called, and a giant swath of New York City was reduced to glowing rubble, including Doctor Death and Golden.

The response was immediate. Politicians from both sides of the aisle called for blood, none louder then Governor William Parnell. His wife and children were among the dead and no one could ignore or forget his tear-stained face as he called upon the President to "just do something! This has been going on for too long. Gods in the playground and we, we are the ones who suffer! Well we don't need you, heroes. We don't need you, villains. We did just fine before you and we'll do just fine after you're gone!"

That day New York Congressman Gregory W. Meeks introduced HR 1077, outlawing supers in the United States of America. The bill passed unanimously in both houses and was signed into law in record time. Almost overnight the very existence of supers was outlawed on pain of death. Super powered men and women were given 30 days to leave the country or face summary execution. Any outcry over the constitutionality of the new law were very quickly drowned out by the survivors of the Disaster of New York and the family members of the dead. Some supers revealed themselves and offered to work with the government and law enforcement but were told, in no uncertain terms, that there were no exceptions to the law.

And so it was that the age of the super hero came to an end in the United States. Super powered men and women left the country or went deep underground, hiding their powers, fearful of the government empowered death squads that formed in every major city, tasked with identifying and executing supers. The very first Super Powered Tactical Response Unit was formed, appropriately enough, by the NYPD. Tasked with investigating, hunting down, and killing anyone with a proven superhuman ability. These units were the best of the best, police officers trained to a very high standard by military Special Operations personnel, equipped with the very best weapons and armor money can buy. Squads formed all over the country and the supers who were left learned to fear them. Any super foolish enough to display their powers in public has an execution warrant signed and is quickly hunted down and killed.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is where we are today. I'll discuss the ramifications of the exodus of America's supers in another lecture. Good evening and be safe."

"It's not safe to be a super, not at all, no matter how kindhearted or benevolent you may be. It doesn't matter what your ability is. Healer? If the police get wind of you you're just as dead as a pyrokinetic. Even something as useless as being able to change the color of flowers gets your ticket signed." The scruffy man takes another drag off his cigarette before continuing. "There's a loose kind of underground railroad for supes in most cities. Places to lay low, that sort of thing, but most of the ones left try to stay away from anything that might get them killed. Make no mistake, they might just be humans but they know how to kill us. They know our weaknesses, they know what kills what kind of supe, and they bring whatever they need to get the job done."

Another pull on the cigarette. "Yeah, it's real dangerous for them. They tend to lose one or more every other mission but they keep coming and they learn. They learn, they adapt, they get better. Their guns and armor get better. I hear they have access to some high level DARPA shit they haven't rolled out yet but I bet it's coming soon."

He finishes the cigarette and tosses it on the concrete. "It's a bad time to be super powered, kid. Bad time, wrong place. Best bet for you, if you want to live, leave the country. Looking the way you do now, changing like you did, you got a rotten hand. I can't help you any more then I have already. I don't know anyone else and I don't do anything to attract attention. I resist the urge to use every day, knowing that it will just get my ass killed if I do. Leave the country kid or you'll be dead in days." With that he walks off, leaving me alone in the alley, dark save for the glow coming from my eyes. Eyes that did not glow like that just two days ago.

"Shit."

Eighteen. Alone. Super powered and with a drivers license showing a drastically different face then the one I have now.

I'm well and truly fucked.

Note: As has been said before: comments are life blood to an author (with all due credit to EoF). I seem to suffer a steep drop in readers and comments between parts one and two of my stories so I'm going to try again and see if the pattern remains true.