A meaty hand gripped her shoulder. “Welcome,” said its owner.
She grimaced. “Thanks.”
“What’s your gig?”
She didn’t reply.
“Look, we’re all here for the same reason. You feel like you’re supposed to save the world. Buns over there-” He nodded at a man. “Heat vision. Check. Crime fighting skills? Zero. He’s a baker.
“Gills? Hates the ocean. Public pool lifeguard.
“Ropes? Bit by a radioactive spider. Got just the web slinging bit. Rock climbing instructor.
“No ninjas here. No billionaires. Just people who want to help people. Saving the world takes resources and a talent stack none of us have. Lay your burden down sister.”
She cleared her throat. “I can see invisible people.”
“Social worker. You’re gonna help a lot of people. But you are not,” he said, “going to save the world.”
As she drove home later she had to admit she felt, well, super.