“Give me the daily report.” The entire room seemed to pause. People were holding their breath hoping that all their hard work over the last week had paid off.
          

“The eastern seaboard results haven't come in yet but right now we're at 2,143 suicides.” All hope that was left in the circle of hell that was once an office was gone. It had gotten worse.
          

“One idiot gets superpowers and now everyone's throwing themselves off buildings!”

Anderson sighed, then lowered his voice and said, “How's the publicity on that idiot going?”

Rouff seemed to choke on his words before spitting out, “There's been over 4,000 articles published on him in the last two days.”

“We need to lower that amount; this guy cannot get any more publicity. We can't have half the country throwing themselves off buildings because they want to fly.”

“Most of the major papers have agreed to not publish what they've written.”

“Any major holdouts?”

“The New York Times and The Daily News.”

“Do those idiots not realize they're right in Manhattan? Call them and let them know that unless they want the falling bodies to be their own, they are not going to print what they wrote.”

“We’re threatening them now,” stammered Rouff.

“It’s better to scare a couple of people than have thousands die. Kid, I know you’re new, but it’s better to learn these things now, than later.” Rouff looked destroyed, like the world was flipped even more upside down then it already was.

“Ok... sir,” mumbled Rouff, who walked away. Anderson looked around his disgrace of an office. There were people crying, screaming, and some even sleeping. He couldn’t blame them, most had worked 90 hour weeks. If they were able to get some sleep they deserved it. Even he was beginning to fade. Thirty-six hours without sleep is a long time. An even longer one when you’re trying to stop thousands of people imitating one mutant, who got lucky when he tried to end his life.

Anderson decided to go up to the roof and smoke. It wasn’t something he did very often but at that moment it seemed weirdly appropriate. He might’ve been the only one to go up onto a roof without the intention of throwing themselves off that day. Anderson snickered at the idea, his first laugh in days. Anderson walked up the stairs and out the door onto the roof the building.

At that moment Anderson realized that the world hated him. Standing there on the ledge was Rouff, shaking and crying.

“Rouff, what are you doing?”
“I’m trying to get… superpowers.”
“You know better than everyone else that it won’t work.”
“I have to try.”
“Why?”

“Ever since I was born, I’ve felt like I was destined for something greater, but that something greater never came. I’m stuck at a job I hate, with people I hate, in a world I hate. Things aren’t going to get better.” Anderson looked at Rouff. At that moment he looked just like a kid. He didn’t deserve the burden that was put upon him.

Anderson took in his breath and began talking in the best reassuring voice he could, “Believe me, things get better. I used to be like you, a kid who didn’t know what he was doing in life and hated myself because of it. It took years, some of them were very hard but I endured and now I’m glad for that.” Rouff looked at him with understanding then had a sudden change of hard. That look of understanding was gone.

“Maybe for you, but not for me.” With those words Rouff took a leap and was gone. Anderson looked in disbelief and ran over to the ledge. He looked down expecting to see a shattered body on the pavement but he didn’t. Anderson quickly realized what that meant and looked up. Instead of a body he saw Rouff flying in the air. The kid had done it. Hopefully it would give him some sense of purpose. Anderson smiled, then quickly realized what this would do to the number of suicides. He stopped looking over the ledge and thought about what this meant for the rest of the world. It wouldn’t be good.