text: You'd think they'd give me an award or something, but nah it's just my "dumb luck" they say. When I started working the busy shift up here in Colorado Springs, most of the more experienced men and women aboard complained that I didn't have the guts. They were sure as shit right when I first joined the EMT at 18. However, I came onto the squad tougher than most, stomaching my fair share of injuries growing up, playing contact sports. One time during a football game, I got my fingers caught in the helmet of another player's facemask, which instantly broke my index and pointer finger. Somehow though with some tape, I finished that game and caught every single pass slung my way. These weren't easy passed either, those things were flying full speed. Still, it is strange that I didn't experience even a flinch of pain, and more surprisingly, after the game, my fingers were back to normal. My varsity Head Coach used to say I was the toughest kid he'd ever seen, so it only made sense for me to become a Navy Seal, Cop, or Firefighter. I ended up going with EMT because, well, before my Mom disappeared, she'd always pressed that I never put myself in too much danger. She used to say it wasn't for my sake, but for the "sake of everyone else." Anyway, this whole "dumb luck" thing has been sort of the ring around our squadron and I don't take it personally. I understand that gambling on yourself is a risky business, especially if your playing with other people's lives. I just happen to be on decade long hot streak, so I think it is better to keep to myself than make it a thing like everyone else. I mean, it hasn't failed me yet. (Later that night during Randy's shift) We arrived at the burning building in the slums of town. The firefighters were on the scene first and already dragging people out. The situation was critical, we couldn't waste any time. Four stories high the building was a project and built in the '60s. The type of place where a drive-by shooting wouldn't just got through one room but two. We'd seen a number of bloody situations here over the years. Thinking of all the gang shootings, and people I'd saved over the years, I couldn't imagine what would happen now that their homes would be destroyed. It was unfortunate to think about how the city hadn't even attempted to renovate the area. Possibly the economics didn't make sense to them. "Why invest in a building filled with families connected to a majority of the crime in the city?" In the moment, I knew it wasn't smart to think about the aftermath of what this would mean. Hundreds of people crowded the streets, all marveling at the rising fire climbing up through the first three floors, casting a dark red and orange cloud-like mushroom. Lined up with front row seats to the destruction of their homes, the tenants watched as more soot and ash spewed into the sky crackling embers in the cold of the night. "Back up! Back up!" The debris could just as easily kill someone. "Please help my mother is not breathing!" In the middle of the street lay an unconscious obese Hispanic woman. Her face black, with first and second degree burns over her arms and charred nightgown. It took all of Jack and mines strength to pick her up and take her to our wagon. Her name was Patricia Despodido. She had escaped the fire, and then succumb to the smoke, a primary reason being her poor health and asthma. At the back of our truck, her daughter pleaded Patricia, her mother, left her inhaler in their room. When we couldn't get oxygen through to her lungs, we pulled out the defibrillator and shocked her to jumpstart her heart, however, I knew it was too late. "Give her CPR Randy!" Jack stood behind me, fearful, yet confident in his words. He had been one who developed this superstition that whenever I did CPR it was more powerful than any device we could use. I couldn't fathom losing Patricia in front of her daughter. Losing my Mom only a few years back, I knew the pain and suffering that would come. Pulling off the oxygen mask, I placed my hands on her chest and began the compressions. "One, two, three, four." With each transfer of breath, I could feel myself taking in the smoke from her lungs, and slowly senses the blood begin to course through her veins. Three more cycles and then I got a heartbeat, her first breath. Opening her eyes suddenly, I saw they were a beautiful golden brown with a milky white lining. She had a twinkle, the kind you see in a babies eye after waking up from a long nap. Suddenly, she came back to full consciousness, fear in her eyes. "Mi Hermano, where is Fernando.?' Patricia pointed up to the top of the roof. Jack and I turned to see a man on the brink of hell. Standing on the ledge of the building now fully engulfed in flames, Fernando's black shadow cast against the white smoke in the pale moonlight. Beneath him a fireteam of 6 stood prepared with a net, however, it was clear Fernando couldn't see it, and so he disappeared for a few moments before we hard to screams of men and women. Tumbling 15 yards away, Fernando had drifted, and I felt myself surge with what felt like a deep and cooling shiver. "To the right!" I yelled at the top of my lungs so loud that it seemed the ground began to shake. People watched and screamed as Fernando tumbled five stories when his body somersaulted onto its back as if somebody had scooped him mid-air. All the while, the firefighters drifted swiftly almost off their feet, waiting moments before he landed perfectly underneath the net. Running to his aid, I pulled his body off the net and resuscitated him. Arriving home that next morning after my shift, I turned on the local news. They interviewed the Fire Chief and all the brave firefighters that went into the burning building. The reporter spoke of how incredible and quick-witted they had been, in particular when it came to Fernando Dispodio. I turned off the TV, exhausted from the long shift, feeling somewhat underappreciated, which was out of character for me. Saving lives wasn't about the ego boost, it was about doing the right thing. To hell with it, the firefighters can take the limelight. When I entered my room after a nice hot shower. I thought maybe it'd be best to just go to bed and forget the troubling thoughts. In time they would go away. For now, I had saved every one I had a chance to and that was enough for me. Then I received a text from my phone. Jack sent me a video filmed on a citizen's camera phone. In the video they show Fernando shaking and praying at the to of the roof, then he disappears, and faints. The ground shakes, and suddenly a brush of purple wind comes into the shot and picks up the firefighters who were yards off their mark, and it seems Fernando is guided perfectly into the net. "An act of god man, crazy" is Jack's next response. Walking into the small bathroom connected my one-bedroom apartment, I wondered if this was what the rest of my life would look like. I wished my mother was here and wondered what she would think of this, now looking at her 28-year-old son, still an EMT. I could hear her voice. "Remember Randy the less power you have, the more good you'll do." Beneath my hazel eyes, I'd always had this streak of purple which would show in moments of danger. Never had I ever tried to harness its power unless for useful purposes. "I knew I had a gift of some sort, but only for serious matters." Reaching for my electric toothbrush, I accidentally knocked it off its charger, sending it off the counter to the ground. As the device toppled towards the floor near my toilet, I felt it again, a cool shiver" "STOP!" Looking down I saw my toothbrush levitating a foot from the ground. As it floated into my hand, I used that same force to open up my toothpaste cap mid-air, applying a small amount onto the brush head. Realizing I could use these powers freely was the first step in me taking control of my life and the world around me. As I cleaned all of my teeth with my hands behind my back, I stared into now deep purple eyes of the mage in front of me. I had been special all along.