Much later that day the young man sat on a park bench trying to work things out in his head. Unfortunately he really didn't do very well at all. After some hours of effort all he had established was that he didn't know who he was. His memory of himself before the accident was simply gone, apart from a vague feeling that it didn't really matter. There were no clues in his pockets, just a one-day travelcard and around £50 in cash. The shoulderbag proved interesting, but ultimately didn't help. It contained an Apple Macintosh G3 PowerBook, but there was something strange about it; when he touched it he felt a strange warm tingling, as if his fingers were trying to meld with the keys. However there seemed to be some form of security setup installed to prevent unauthorised access, and since he had no idea what the password might be he'd had to give up on that.

He shook his head to clear it, and tried another angle. He seemed to be able to see events before they actually happened, and somehow, which was equally weird, alter what clearly would have otherwise occurred. After he'd run off from the fuming truck driver he'd had a number of other 'flash forwards' experiences. A small boy had kicked a football towards a busy road and was charging after it. He'd timed his steps so the boy ran into his legs, and only the ball went under the bus. Once he'd foreseen someone walking into a lamppost, but then he recognised the victim-to-be as a prominent politician and did nothing as the shadow cabinet minister walked past him while reading a paper. "Some things are just meant to be," he thought to himself, as the politician bounced off the lamppost and fell over. He walked on down the road and lost himself in thought. He'd been scared to face it at first, but in the end he had to admit it. Somehow he seemed to be able - sometimes - to see into the future!

He swung his bag more comfortably over his shoulder and wandered for miles without noticing where he went, past shops, houses, parks... night fell, and he carried on walking. He eventually wandered through a particularly scruffy part of East London filled with derelict warehouses. He didn't notice his surroundings until he walked into a particularly dark side road and found himself facing two hulking figures blocking his path. They seemed to come out of nowhere, and were curiously anonymous, as if any identifying marks had been filed off. He felt a brief moment of panic when he realised that he hadn't had any warning vision. Was his power just a flash in the pan? Then the larger of the two strangers opened his mouth and spoke.
"Oi mate, got a light?" The voice was like gritty sump oil, but the young man relaxed and told himself he was just getting jittery. They were simply asking a civil question and their resemblance to a couple of psychopaths must be purely coincidence.
"I'm sorry gentlemen, I don't..." An image flashed across his mind, too fast for him to consciously recognise. Some reflex took over however, and he ducked to the left. As he did so something whistled past where his head had been just a second before. More vision flashes were happening now, partly obscuring his view of reality. Fortunately he seemed to be getting the hang of it now. He realised that there was a third person who had tried to hit him from behind, but was now off-balance. As he took this in he was still acting on the snowballing mental snapshots of the future. He reached a hand behind to where he knew he would find a length of pipe (he'd already seen himself grab it), and at the same time stuck his right leg out. He hadn't yet taken his gaze from the two characters in front of him. They seemed rooted in place, not ready for this turn of events. Which was more than could be said for the third man, who stumbled forwards when he had missed his mark, then took a step backwards to regain his balance. Unfortunately for him the young man's foot had appeared in just the wrong place, and the mystery man fell backwards heavily. As he went over the young man was already bringing the pipe around behind him, and the end struck the falling man neatly in the back of the head. This took no more than a couple of seconds from start to finish, and left the young man in exactly the same position as before - just with an unconscious would-be mugger on the ground behind him and a hint of sparks fading in the gloom.

The two huge men leaped forward with a bellow of rage, but were unable to do anything more than grab thin air as the young man stepped neatly out of their way. The next moment they were both flat on the ground, badly winded and clutching their knees in agony. Their intended victim was standing off to one side idly swinging a length of pipe. He felt less confident than he looked, but he'd worked on a form of automatic pilot for the entire skirmish and was beginning to appreciate what his gift meant.
"Who the hell ARE you?" one of the erstwhile muggers moaned. They'd seen many different forms of attack and defence in their time, but this was just spooky.
"I see things coming," the young man said, almost to himself. "I guess that makes me the Seer." He turned and walked away into the darkness.

THE SEER? IS THAT HIS NAME?
(No, but that's what he is called...)

WILL THE MUGGERS TRY TO SEEK REVENGE?

WHERE'S THE PIGEON?
(In the middle of the night? Asleep of course!)

IS ENTRY TO SUPERPEN AUTOMATIC?

Stuff like this and more coming up... on Superguy!