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It was 2011, the early days of the superhero boom, when Marvel's cinematic universe remained an uncertain and risky proposition, well before the colored tights set had infiltrated prestige television (certainly before there was such a glut of superhero TV Marvel had to start cancelling shows before they even released). Syfy, still struggling to find a breakout hit to establish itself as a hitmaking cable network on the scale of AMC ("Mad Men") or FX ("The Shield" and "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia"), quietly released its own foray into superhero TV, a series called "Alphas," the brainchild of "X2" and "X-Men: The Last Stand" writer (and later story developer for "The Avengers") Zak Penn.

The show follows a group of Alphas, people gifted with superhuman abilities, who are contracted by the government to police fellow Alphas. It kicked off with a bang, scoring 2.5 million viewers with its pilot, but ratings faded steadily as the first season progressed. By the time it reached its cliffhanger final episode, the season two finale, it was clear it wasn't mustering the kind of audience Syfy had envisioned, even as the story and character dynamics continued to deepen and improve.

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"Alphas" followed the formula that had proven so wildly successful for "Buffy" back in the '90s, with an unpowered academic guiding a ragtag group of gifted heroes. In "Alphas'" case, the man in the chair was Dr. Rosen, played with steady authority by David Strathairn. The supergroup he led, however, wasn't your typical team of superpowered teens or dysfunctional mutants. The protagonists of "Alphas" were portrayed less as comic book demigods and more as people haunted by neurological differences.

This is where "Alphas" stands out, and what makes its cancellation such a tragedy. The way the show handled its characters' abilities was unique, portraying them as enhanced versions of real conditions rather than the supernatural results of lab accidents or alien science. Take Bill Harken, a former FBI agent whose ability was to heighten his natural fight or flight response and pump his body with "adrenaline on demand," giving him enhanced strength and durability. Or Kat, who had a version of eidetic memory that allowed her to pick up any skill just by seeing it performed.

Each of the characters' abilities came at a price. Harken's body was rapidly breaking down due to the stress inflicted on it by constantly inducing the high level of stress associated with fight or flight, for instance, while Kat's incredible repertoire of skills came at the expense of her other memories vanishing over time. The flaws inherent in each character's gifts made them feel more real and more human than your typical superhero.

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When "Alphas" dropped in 2011, superhero TV and films were still struggling to find a reliable identity. It didn't have the benefit that modern shows do of an audience conditioned for over a decade by a steady stream of mid- to high-quality superhero shows. Its "ordinary people with extraordinary abilities" premise had to compete with shows that were noisier, flashier, and had more obvious hooks.

It didn't help that the first season was a bit uneven and struggled to find the balance between developing its strong stable of characters while giving them a meaty narrative to play into. The second season started to find its stride, but as is the case for so many shows that play out at the edge of niche cable viability, it was already too late.

By the time the credits rolled on season 2, it had the feel of a show that was respected more than actually watched, which is heartbreaking for the loyalists who did stay with it and were rewarded by steady improvement in the writing and storytelling. Even considering how crowded the television landscape is now, in an era where we're left asking what the hell we even want from Marvel now, it's easy to imagine that if "Alphas" launched today, it would be an instant, enduring hit.