《Hero is Just a Title》


 Story Open

    The train shuddered violently, shaken by the raging storm that swirled around it. The wind slashed at the walls of the train with icy claws, slipping in through chinks in the metal shell. The frigid air burst through gaps in the sides of the shoddy cars at the back of the train waking someone who wasn¡¯t meant to be there. They opened their eyes as their body felt the sudden surge of cold air swirling about them. He checked his watch, it read 1:00 AM. It was time for him to do his job.


    From the pocket of his jeans he pulled a small metallic disc. It had a singular button on its surface, he clicked it and read the pale green words that appeared on its surface. Target : John Gonzales. Code Name: Twister. Hunter: Peter Het. Difficulty: 7.


    He shut the device off and forced himself to get to his feet. The room around him was engulfed in inky blackness, that didn¡¯t bother him. The dark and light were the same to him. He pulled on a large overcoat and checked his belt to ensure that his knife was still there. The cold wooden handle was a comfort as he set his hand on it, remembering the life he¡¯d had when it was given to him. He stopped himself, it wasn¡¯t the time to sulk on the past; it never was. Still surrounded by deep shadows and frigid air he stalked forward down the length of the train, he had a job to do. He¡¯d been sleeping hidden among the cargo of the car at the very back of the train. Like most it was designed to fulfill as many purposes as possible, transporting people and whatever else would fit. There were a few others who had snuck into the storage cars, either too poor to afford a seat in the posh passenger seats or convicted of too many crimes to be given one.


    Outside of the train a ruined landscape flashed by, destroyed by a war that had shattered the world decades ago. The world had crumbled as it changed, the old way of life dying as new forms of life emerged. Before the war nuclear war had been a fantastic horror, an apocalyptic future that loomed over the horizon. Then it happened and the aftermath became the grim reality of life. In the aftermath the powers emerged. They had been what sparked the war and then became the inferno that consumed the world after.


    Peter stopped his musings and jumped from one car to the next. He found himself in front of the door to the passenger car, his hand rested on the handle of his blade. One deep breathe in, one breathe out. He stepped through the door.


    As the door slid open the storm outside pulled out the warm air within like the void of space. It shut quickly behind Peter, the cold air drifting about the entrance like dying wisps of fog, darting away from Peter. Few of the occupants looked towards him, most of them were dead in their sleep and for those who were awake the disturbance was too small to draw their attention. Like a small child shouting, his entrance was a nuisance and nothing more to them. It wouldn¡¯t be that way in a few moments.


    Peter stalked confidently down the aisles and came up to one of the private booths. The sound of his knuckle rapping against the glass door joined the rattle of the car under the force of the deluge. The sound of his knuckle droned on and on, ignored by the people around him. The door slid open with a grating hiss and the smell of expensive tea greeted him. A well dressed man stood in the door, his hand hid behind his back.


    ¡°What business do you have with Mr. Gonzalez?¡±


    Peter used the lie he had prepared. ¡°I¡¯m just a big fan of Twister and wanted to meet him in person. Could I?¡±


    The bodyguard turned away, Peter acted in that moment. He shot forward with unnatural speed. Just as he collided with the guard his body switched places with some dark shadow. Both entities - the shadow and guard - were catapulted through the side of the train car tearing a rupture in the side of the train that the wind screamed through. A man in a sleek gray jacket sat next to the newly torn gash in the train wall, he stood to his feet barely holding in his bloodlust. He looked at Peter with eyes glimmering with a crazed excitement.The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    Peter had drawn his blade.


    The man across from him held glinting steel screws between each of his fingers.


    Lights in the hall of the train flickered and the sound of panicked passengers struggled to overcome the howl of the wind.


    Peter looked the man in his eyes, holding every emotion he felt behind a dam. It wasn¡¯t the time to feel. A few of the passengers rushed past him like frightened animals searching for refuge from a prowling beast. Peter said. ¡°We should wait for all the passengers to get out.¡±


    The other man tilted his head to the side like a cocky child, he shifted the screws in his hands. ¡°I don¡¯t think I will.¡±


    The wind from before suddenly felt like a light breeze compared to what followed as the air swirled together into a rioting vortex that tried to shove Peter out through the gap. Once again he disappeared leaving a dark shadow in his midst. The shadow exploded into pieces as three of the screws from the man¡¯s hand tore it apart.


    ¡°John Gonzales, code name: Twister. Your Prime power allows you to rotate objects and control their orientation. Responsible for a minimum of five civilian casualties. Today I -¡±


    ¡°Shut Up And Fight!¡± Twister shouted. From his clenched hand he hurled two more of his screws at Peter. Peter jumped to the side, seeing the screws rip through the walls behind him like parchment paper. The wind around him twisted and tried to throw him through the hole in the wall. For the third time he switched places with the shadow, reappearing right behind his opponent.


    ¡°I¡¯m not here to fight, I¡¯m here to carry out justice.¡± He spoke the words right into Twister¡¯s ear. The tip of his blade was on their ribs. An incensed strike passed within an inch of Peter¡¯s face, he stepped back unconcerned. Twister caused the wind that rushed into the room through the gap to spin like a furious tornado. Peter heard a metallic screech as the hole grew and the wind tried to pull him into the storm outside. It didn¡¯t scare him. If he¡¯d wanted he could have already killed his target five times, but he didn¡¯t want to. He wanted to let them live, to prove a point he so badly needed to be true. ¡°You¡¯re supposed to help people.¡±


    Peter darted away from another strike and a shadow emerged from the air and struck Twister in the neck, a second one materialized behind him and wrapped its arm around his neck.


    ¡°You hurt people instead.¡± Peter stepped forward pointing the tip of his blade at their forehead. ¡°To be honest I don''t want to kill you, so I¡¯ll give you a choice: leave The Watch - go live a normal life, help people - or fight me and die.¡±


    The cocky excitement that had been in Twister¡¯s eyes was gone now, all that Peter saw now was fear. It was the same fear he¡¯d seen a hundred, no, a thousand times before. Rarely had he been the cause, and he couldn¡¯t say he enjoyed the feeling it gave him. He hated the sight, the deluge of awful memories it brought; his parents dying, the subway crash, his friends¡¯ deaths. Blinking away tears he focused on the moment. ¡°Your choice.¡±


    In a disgustingly pitiful voice Twister pleaded. ¡°Please let me go.¡±


    The shadows melted into the air letting Twister free. Peter walked away, he hoped that he was done with his task. ¡°If you try anything¡­ I¡¯ll have to kill you.¡±


    There was a moment, a breath of tense air, a single pinpoint in time that would determine a life. Peter faced away from Twister waiting for something he sensed would come. He reacted to an unseen threat too quickly for any regular person to react. Twister sent a piece of debris hurtling towards Peter. It barreled past him and through the wall on the other side of the train car.


    They faced each other, Peter holding his blade, Twister gripping his screws so tightly they drew blood from the soft skin between his knuckles. ¡°You should have killed me! You won¡¯t get another chance -¡±


    It seemed like he wanted to say more, he didn¡¯t get the chance. A shadowy form appeared behind him and Peter changed places with it in less than the blink of an eye. Like a hawk swooping for its prey he moved too quickly for his target to run. He forced his blade up through the gaps in the ribs of his opponent. ¡°I didn¡¯t want to do this.¡±


    Holding their body he twisted to the side hurling them out through the gash in the wall. The dying Twister flew into the night like a stone into the depths of the sea. Peter didn¡¯t even see their body as it entered into the storm and the night.


    His legs suddenly became shaky and he collapsed to the floor joining the carnage on the ruined carpet. He wished there was someone there with him, even just to share his pain. Someone to tell him he wasn¡¯t alone.

 Chapter 2

    Levi Winter had a life most people envied. They saw the clean area of the city he got to live in, the attention from famous and powerful people, the praise and admiration from people across the lands of the once United States, and the uncredible power he possessed. In their eyes he was one of the world¡¯s demigods, one of the few people that had the power over their own life and fate. He was what people aimed to be; he was the shining face of a hero.


    And despite that Levi felt hollow. He found himself driven in the back of a clean black car, rolling down a manicured street. People lined the street, cameras making bright flashes of light like the light from the tip of a gun. A few people scattered about the crowd waved signs smeared with bright slogans. The driver of the car kept his head facing forward, this was nothing unusual for them after all. Once every few months people would manifest in droves to cheer for their hero. Levi didn¡¯t count himself as a hero, he never had and never would. That didn¡¯t stop the people from seeing the stories the media published about him and the carefully curated image that The Watch had created around him. They needed someone to fill the role of the hero, someone to draw in all the admiration and praise that would bury the dirty truths.


    He didn¡¯t despise the crowds for their misguided trust, nor did he hate The Watch for manipulating the crowds. He just wished he could be free of it all, they were a burden to him, and he was too tired to hate it. The cameras outside continued to flash, and Levi kept his eyes turned forward wholly uninterested in the procession. The youth who accompanied him didn¡¯t share his apathy. To her it was all exciting and new, like unknown glimmering items she could finally touch and have, like a child who¡¯d been given the trinket they¡¯d obsessed over. It was to her a mythical place, something she would never have imagined herself partaking in. She had told herself that she would never reach the goal, setting herself into her place in the lower ranks of The Watch. It was nothing but a dream to her. Her choice to remain where she stood had been what caught Levi¡¯s attention. It reminded him of a friend he¡¯d known when working through the training program. He wondered where that friend was now¡­


    ¡°Mr. Winter, or should I call you Raptor-¡±


    ¡°You can just call me Levi.¡± He didn¡¯t need another person calling him by a contrived name, it felt like a slap whenever people used his cover name. The fake names didn¡¯t serve any real purpose except to be used in slogans by Watch propaganda. After a moment he realized that he¡¯d zoned out. ¡°Sorry, what is it you wanted to say?¡±


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you care about all those people?¡± She asked in a frightened voice, expecting some retribution for her slight infringement. Levi had no plan to reprimand her, her questions were another part of the reason he had chosen her as his apprentice.


    ¡°I care about them. But I don¡¯t care for their praise, I don¡¯t deserve it.¡± He held himself in an upright posture, trying to imitate the mannerisms of his old master. It was the only way he knew to help this girl; he was no leader or hero, all he could do was imitate the one true hero he had ever known.


    The car slowed to a stop at the base of a glass and steel mountain. Levi pushed his own door open and stepped out into the harsh air. It was hot and had the same constant acrid smell in it. The stench was subtle, he only noticed because of the unnaturally clean places he was paraded in. Pulling open the door for his apprentice he kept a wary eye focused on the crowd. The bright flashes of cameras were focused on his back - the metallic wings that were still damaged from his most recent task. He felt his wings rustle, moving unconsciously as he thought about them. Each piece of it shifting, falling back into a new position.


    The sound of the crowd morphed slightly, and a bullet flew toward Levi. One of the ¡®feathers¡¯ from his wings darted into the path of the bullet, shifting its path down into the concrete.


    ¡°Nora, I want you to take care of this.¡±The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    The shooter had emerged from the crowd. They wore a black cloak with a white outline of Leonardo¡¯s anatomy model. It was the symbol of M.R.M, the largest militia group of people without powers. Shifting one of his shoulders from beneath the cloak he revealed a mechanical arm that had a cannon-like replacement for the forearm. He aimed it at Levi, his intention clear in his gaze.


    ¡°Die.¡±


    Another bullet was shot. Levi could have blocked it if he so chose, it wasn¡¯t his time to shine though. Nora appeared in front of the bullet, a paper-thin screen of black raised in front of her. The bullet struck the screen and stopped, folding like a soda can. Another two shots were fired, both caught by the quickly morphing black Shape. Nora flew forward as if pulled by the wrist and stopped with sudden violent force. The hand that had been dragged forward was set on the underside of the assassin¡¯s mechanical arm. A black blob of ink crawled off of her arm and snuck into the crevices of the device, crushing hidden pieces. Another invisible force seized her ankles and pulled her away. She stopped right in front of Levi.


    He smiled involuntarily at her joy from success. Hiding it he attempted to speak in a flat tone. ¡°It¡¯s not done yet.¡±


    A final bullet was shot, this time flying towards Nora. Levi stopped it with a quick swipe of his hand and a step around Nora. To the people watching, the bullet simply vanished. A piece of Levi¡¯s wing had shot forward towards the outstretched hand of his assaulter. They now had a regular firearm in their hand and leveled it on Levi. The feather that Levi released passed through the metal barrel like a knife through soft butter. Nora only realized that Levi had moved behind her after he had brought the feather back to his wings. ¡°You can¡¯t stop until you know the job is done.¡± He said in an emotionless voice.


    Nora felt her cheeks redden in a blush.


    Security finally arrived and finished subduing the assassin. The crowd threw away its fear and erupted with renewed excitement. ¡°Go on and introduce yourself.¡± He said. The photographers and newscasters rushed back, cameras flashing all the more and microphones outstretched to get answers to a flood of questions. Levi put a smile on, entering the characters he was familiar with. ¡°I don¡¯t have too much to say today. All I have for you today is my new apprentice: Inkstone. I can¡¯t wait for you all to get to know her, and I hope you¡¯re all having a great day.¡± He pushed Nora forward, whispering to her as he passed. ¡°Just do your best and tell me exactly how it goes.¡±


    The crowd rushed forth like water from a collapsing dam. Levi didn¡¯t look back as he stepped into the building. The doors closed behind him and like an astronaut thrust into the void of space all the sound faded. His shoes audibly tapped on the ground, one of two sounds in the empty cathedral of cold concrete and glass. A prim woman hacked away at her work behind the counter, she paid him no attention as he passed. She was one of few who knew he was nothing to be worshiped or even given a slice of attention.


    With a push of a button the elevator doors opened and shut with a soft noise of metal. Levi felt his body being lifted by the machine, the quietly whirring sound of it flying up the floors filled the box. There were no other sounds in the metal coffin. He kept his eyes facing forward at the faceless steel doors; all the other walls were covered in cheap mirrors; he didn¡¯t want to see his face. As he stepped out of the elevator, he accidentally scraped one of his wings against the door frame, the sharp sides of his feathers made a sound like nails on a chalkboard and left thin scratches on the otherwise unblemished steel.


    He would take care of that later.


    For the moment he just entered his own apartment and allowed himself to relax. He wore the heavy coat that he was known for; the first thing he did when he stepped inside his home was pull it off. He had a hanger for it, that he didn¡¯t often use. Usually, he would just toss it on the ground or over the nearest piece of furniture. He set it on in its place for the first time in over a month. He didn¡¯t care about impressing people, but he now had someone he needed to be a good example for. Nora would stop by his apartment, and he was meant to finish explaining what her apprenticeship would entail. He still needed to figure that out.


    He would.


    And if he did a good enough job, he might finally have someone to take his place in the charade that he was stuck living in.

 Chapter 3

    Peter leapt out of the train before it ever hissed to a stop. Security on the train had been quick to contact The Watch after they had found the remains of Peter''s skirmish, there would be members ready to apprehend him at the station. He didn''t doubt his odds of winning in a confrontation, but he feared the damage it would cause. So, he jumped off the metal behemoth before it came to a stop.


    For a few seconds he fell, swooping towards the air with a feline grace. He hit gravel as he landed, leaving an imprint of his body on the ground a hundred feet below the train. He''d seen a small gap and had been quick to take it. There was a bridge before the station, and from the back of the train with a good guess he could jump before the bridge ended and after the brakes had been activated. The latter was optional.


    That was a good thing, because he was forced to jump before the machine slowed.


    Now standing he found himself right outside of a shanty town that had sprung up at the base of the bridge''s supports like weeds at the crux of a wall and a road. A few of its denizens saw him; they chose to ignore him. That was fair. People who didn''t fit the mold, people like him, brought more trouble than they were worth. Especially the ones that displayed any level of proficiency with their power.


    With a quick brush he wiped the dust from his clothes and turned toward the slums, there would hopefully be someone who could give him a ride back into town. Peter''s ragged clothes helped him as he entered the cramped squat of buildings. No one questioned his presence; he was just another squalid addict in their eyes. He didn''t like the idea of being seen like that, he''d fought hard to avoid it. Then again, he had chosen to leave The Watch and instead become a bounty hunter. It wasn''t a choice he regretted, he just wished he could have held onto the people he''d known before his life had been ripped apart.


    A giggle came from a better maintained building; there was a crude metal sign, likely made with someone''s power, that read ''Girls''. The sight sickened him and brought him back to the present. There was a desire to barge into the building, kill its patrons and free the girls forced to work such a despicable job. Clenching his fists until his nails bit into his skin he moved on. If the words of a drunkard on the street were to be trusted his destination was close. He wanted stronger information but was sure none was to be found in a desperate clumping of dwellings at the foot of an old piece of the government infrastructure. He''d have to go to town to get what he was looking for.


    His destination was likely the nicest building in the settlement. Nicest wasn''t a compliment, in fact comparing it to the other buildings was an insult. Still the walls looked solid and were made of concrete. A painted sign, reading ''Inn'', jutted out of the side of the building and hung in the street. It swayed the tiniest bit, like a corpse on a rope. Peter shoved open the entrance door and sauntered inside, he didn''t know what to expect in the building but didn''t think it would hurt to display some amount of confidence.


    There were four tables in the room, none of them were occupied. Two old lights dangled from the ceiling on slipknots, one of them flickered constantly. A bar was across from the entrance and a man that looked to be sixty, but may have been thirty, tended it. He glanced at Peter with squinted eyes, mumbling a greeting. "What is it you need?"


    "How do you get to town from here?" He didn''t plan on engaging in any game with a decrepit man, no matter their age.


    "I¡­ well you just walk up the road following the tracks¡­ if you want more than that it won''t be free."


    Peter took a step up to the bar, keeping every emotion and thought hidden behind a stone wall. "You will tell me."


    The bartender laughed. He kept laughing, taking too long to make a response. "Do you think you scare me, Ha! No, no, no, no¡­ I''ve seen a lot in my life don''t think you can scare-"


    Peter had his blade against their throat before they could even notice it was there. This man was drunk, and he didn''t plan on hurting them. "Think carefully, what do you have to tell me?"


    When they noticed there was a blade, fear flooded into his eyes. "Uh, let me - let me think¡­ I uh, up the road there''s a monster, I think it''s about a hundred yards from the station, I don''t really know."


    Peter dropped a five-dollar bill on the table. The man lunged for it like a starving animal. Peter found it funny that people placed any value in those slips of paper, they had no real value. But he guessed the belief in the absolute importance of money was something that had been driven deep into the minds of every person.


    His thoughts were distant and cold, filling his head with pointless philosophy as he began to walk down the road.


    The shanty town was close to the city, hidden in the expanse of wilderness that surrounded the urban island. It made sense why there would be a tenebrae beast. After the rise of powers everyone freely bled one of two energies: Lumes, and Tenebrae. Neither affected peoples'' day to day lives - at least not normal peoples'' lives - but the latter affected the world around them. As it seeps out into the world it searches for a new host, and once enough has gathered into one object or creature it creates a tenebrae beast. They weren''t a problem, not until they encountered someone. Then they became violent.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Peter wasn''t scared by the prospect of one. If it was allowed to exist at the edge of a major settlement it couldn''t be that dangerous.


    He saw it before it saw him. From its sheath he drew his blade.


    The thing scuttled on four pairs of legs, each one a crude imitation of a different animal''s limb. The torso those limbs were connected to looked like a rotting piece of meat, and the head that splintered out of it was like a clay sculpture that had been crudely shaped by a toddler''s hands. Out of every crack and joint a sickly black fog trickled, coating the ground around it and then creeping back into the creature through unseen pores.


    It made no attempt to leave the depression it stalked. If Peter''s path didn''t bring him through the dip in the ground, he would have ignored the thing. No that wasn''t true, he would have killed it no matter the situation he found it in. It wouldn''t take long anyway.


    Focusing on the edge of his blade Peter used the other kind of energy. Lumes, unlike tenebrae, had a purpose that could be seized. It grew inside of him, he let some of it leak out and coat the edge of his blade. There was no way it could cut through the concrete that formed his target without a little help. Peter dug the tip of his foot into the ground and shot himself forward. The sharp of his blade severed the thing''s head from its body. The dark mist rushed out like blood from a wound, and then it stopped flowing. Dark wisps settled on the earth and faded into the air. He hadn''t needed his powers to deal with the creature.


    Stowing the blade, he moved forward. The settlement was just ahead. It was time to find another job, another purpose to keep his existence going.


    + + +


    Levi poured a cup of boiling water into a class for his new apprentice. The water splashed onto a bag of tea leaves and released a host of cinnamon aromas into the room. Nora was collapsed on his couch; the reporters had drained all of her energy. Seeing her flopped on the couch made him think of his first time returning from a mission. That was a bittersweet memory. Choking down the memory he handed Nora her tea.


    He took a seat on the plush chair across from the couch. He was careful to sit with good posture, he had someone he needed to be. "How did it go?" His voice was strangely soft, its normal edge dulled.


    She gave him an irritable glance. "Fine."


    He pushed for details, thinking back to a test his own mentor had given him. "Tell me five things that you noticed."


    She paused, words stuck on the tip of her tongue. Peter found no need to push any further. He took a long sip of his tea in the silence, trying to enjoy the soft taste. He preferred tea to coffee; the droop he felt after a cup of coffee was a liability in his mind. Though in complete honesty, there was hardly a difference the drink caused in him.


    Nora answered after a long period spent stewing in fading thoughts. "One of the reporters had a gun on his belt, there were five reporters from one news group, the crowd didn''t seem to like me¡­ and people were taking pictures of my tattoos."


    "That was only four." He remarked plainly.


    Her hands cupped the mug of tea, but she hadn''t taken a single sip. "Three of the reporters were male the rest were female."


    He didn''t pay much attention to her answers. "Good, tell me how you could tell the crowd didn''t like you? Three ways."


    "I, I said it seemed like they didn''t like me."


    "I know, but you have to be exact with your answers. ''Likes'' ''abouts'' and ''seems'' don''t help anyone. Think about how you knew the crowd didn''t like you."


    She hesitated to answer, another length of silence ensued. Levi didn''t mind the silence, but he could tell it was pressing on Nora, invisible hands choking her. She forced out her answer. "The reporters'' questions were aimed to embarrass me, people in the crowd weren''t cheering, and I heard insults over the reporters'' questions."


    Levi smiled, pleased to see his plan working. "Why do you think I asked you that?"


    "To make sure I could be exact."


    He could tell her answers were aimed to please him. He knew that young members of The Watch had to be careful with their words. A well-placed compliment could earn a stable future, while a wrong answer could trap someone in the lowest ranks. Nora knew how to play the game well, not pushing too hard or giving too little.


    "That is part of it." He said. She stiffened, instinctually expecting an oncoming reproach. "The main reason I asked was to make you think about what actually happened, forcing you to make clear sense of your work. It''s important for heroes to be aware of their surroundings."


    Heroes. He didn''t like the word.


    "I think I understand¡­" She hid in a shell of timidity. There was again a silence. Levi took a long sip of his drink; he remarked upon the fact that it was growing cold. Nora stewed in a rigid pose, afraid of whatever castigation Levi was forming.


    "Nora, do you know why I picked you over Chargewave?"


    She didn''t answer, afraid of saying the wrong thing again.


    "It''s because I think you have potential. Potential to do some great things... That''s not it though, if that was it, I could have picked anyone from your class, but I picked you because you weren''t chasing fame or power, you were just doing the best you could. I heard you planned on nothing more than doing your best to help people no matter where you ended up; and that, for you, saving just one person would be enough."


    Levi paused to sip his drink, letting the bitter taste rest on his tongue for a long moment. Nora fidgeted, her feet bouncing up and down, and up and down. Finally, she spoke. "I, I don''t understand¡­"


    "What I''m trying to say is that I see your potential to help people. You could really, I mean really, make a difference."


    His words didn''t seem to be of any comfort. He wanted her to say something, but the words weren''t coming.


    "I think it''ll make more sense if I tell you a story."

 Chapter 4

    The city was crowded with people; it was like an overpopulated ant farm. The city was a dark metal maze. Thin alleyways formed streets, stray wires crossing over these. The city was full of people who pushed past each other, scuttling to work or trying to find their way back to their cubicle homes. The city had a feeling, a feeling that was close to Peter, like a piece of his heart that had been grafted onto the natural structure. The sound of rushing feet and wind from broken vents, the stench of bodies and waste, the sour taste that floated in the air, it was all so  familiar to him. The people fought to avoid eye contact, afraid of sparking a conflict. Among them, urchins scurried like desperate rodents that would burrow into peoples¡¯ pockets and then hurry away with wallets in hand.


    They didn¡¯t approach Peter. There was a clear danger about him, a wolf prowling through an unguarded barn. One urchin dared to come close to him. Peter shifted his hand onto the pommel of his blade, and the child ran away after having seen the teeth of the wolf. His hand shifted off the weapon, he had no intention of using it, especially not on a child. There¡¯d been a time when he¡¯d been one of them. Despite his desire for apathy he still felt a pang of hurt at the sight of the desperate children in the street.


    One of them slept restlessly in an alcove formed at the base of a shoddily constructed business center. Old bags and trash were stacked around him, concealing him well. Well enough that no one noticed him. No one but Peter. The hurt in his chest grew stronger. Against his better judgment he found himself crouching down beside the sleeping boy.


    ¡°Hey.¡±


    He said it as softly as he could. The voice that came out was like sandpaper. One hand reached out and shook the boy¡¯s shoulder.


    Tired eyes cracked open. Slowly they focused on Peter. Those eyes first saw a dark patch, then a vague shape, then a person, and then a threat. The child¡¯s hand tried swatting away Peter¡¯s outstretched arm. He couldn¡¯t, it was like striking a concrete wall. He pushed hard, his body moving before the arm that reached towards him.


    Peter looked at the boy with sad eyes.


    The boy looked back with terror. Thoughts flashed in his eyes, then sulking to the earth he said. ¡°What is it you want from me?¡±


    Peter looked at the boy, really looked. They were young, but not very young. Probably about eleven or maybe twelve. ¡°Do you want a meal?¡±


    The boy evidently didn¡¯t want to go with Peter. ¡°I, I guess -¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to say yes.¡± Peter put his hands on his knees and rose to his feet. His tired muscles reminded him of their existence with resigned complaints. A slight smile had entered onto Peter¡¯s lips.


    The fear was still in the boy¡¯s eyes, but pushing past that fear like a seed pushing through the earth and into the air he chose to follow Peter. The smile that Peter wore fell onto the boy¡¯s face.


    He hadn¡¯t met someone like Peter before.


    The two walked in silence, eventually finding a small restaurant. Peter handed a fading paper to the waiter and was rewarded with two platters of steaming food.


    ¡°How long have you been on your own?¡± Peter asked as he handed the boy one of the plates. As he took it he bowed his head in a silent show of gratitude. His hand took the fork from the plate and with careful motions he filled the utensil with a spoonful of the meal. Peter remarked upon the boy¡¯s manners.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Mother said I could take care of myself since she had more important things to worry about.¡± He said his words joyfully, a simple meal more powerful than his memories. ¡°That¡¯s how I ended up in the streets. I don¡¯t mind, it made me tough.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t doubt it.¡± Peter took a bite from his own plate. By his second bite the boy¡¯s plate was empty. He eyed Peter¡¯s food with desperate animal like eyes. Peter slid his plate to the boy. ¡°Is there any troublemakers in the streets?¡±


    ¡°Oh, yeah plenty¡­¡± A thought, a fear, entered the boy¡¯s mind. ¡°But I¡¯m not supposed to talk about it.¡±


    Peter couldn¡¯t push. There was no way he could protect the boy if he stirred up troubled in town. The best he could do was share a hot meal and a word of advice. ¡°Do you have a Deviation?¡±


    The boy shook his head. Peter had probably chosen the wrong word.


    ¡°Sorry, what I mean is do you have a power?¡±


    The boy nodded his head.


    ¡°What is it.¡±If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    The boy shook his head.


    ¡°How about you show me somewhere else?¡±


    The boy paused, it a took a few moments but he nodded his head in a frightened agreement.


    Peter had noticed a mostly empty alley way, it would be enough to contain the boy¡¯s skill; hopefully. Peter stood in the deep end of the alley with an expectant smile on his face. The boy was still hesitant. ¡°It¡¯s alright¡­ How about I show you some of my power first.¡±


    The boy shook his head violently.


    ¡°Ok.¡± Peter stood up straight and took a deep breath in. The darkness all around him shimmered like a mirage. Shadows leapt off the walls and ground forming phantom outlines of his body. They all turned towards Peter and in one simultaneous motion they rushed towards his body and then vanished. ¡°Did you like that?¡±


    The boy nodded his head.


    ¡°Your turn.¡±


    There was now a confidence in the boy¡¯s eyes, he reached his hands forward and the darkness vanished for a second in a burst in ethereal light. Peter watched with trained eyes. The source of the light was small, hardly the size of a pea, but it made a heat so powerful that it reached Peter across the alley.  With some training the power could be quite the spectacle: it was a shock that The Watch hadn¡¯t taken the child. His power wasn¡¯t too different from their star hero Starstrike¡¯s. Thinking of her left a sour taste in Peter¡¯s mouth, he¡¯d never gotten along with her when they were growing up in The Watch¡¯s gifted program. A barrage of stupid memories filled his mind.


    The boy looked towards him, a bright smile on his face. ¡°Did I do well.¡±


    Forcing on a mask of joy Peter answered. ¡°You did great.¡± He¡¯d planned to tell the boy to keep his power hidden, but he didn¡¯t have the strength to stomp out the child¡¯s joy. There was no safe path he could set the boy down. Peter couldn¡¯t reach a decision so he made the mistake of letting his feelings take control. ¡°Do you want to come with me?¡±


    He walked forwards, hands held in his pockets.


    ¡°You know, I could teach you how to use your power.¡±


    This was a mistake, it would be of no value to him. Not unless he twisted the situation to fit his goals. That idea didn¡¯t appeal to him. The best he could do was get the kid into a program that would teach the boy how to use his deviation. He tried forming a solution to the problem he¡¯d made. Distantly he answered the boy¡¯s questions. He felt them growing an affection for him. No¡­ not now. He couldn¡¯t manage to help himself, there was no way he could help this child. A solution to his question didn¡¯t reach him before he reached his destination.


    The I.H.G (Intercontinental, hunter¡¯s guild) had a burrow in every major city and settlement. To the untrained eye they were near impossible to locate, but it was easy with the street knowledge of Peter¡¯s new companion.


    The burrow itself was concealed as an underground anex of a melancholy apartment complex. An identification pad was on the only entrance. Peter pressed his thumb into the device, it scanned the finger and sent a slight shock into the skin. It took a few seconds for unseen components to mull over the information they had been given. A click and the door popped open, letting the smell of cheap perfume spill into the damp city air. Peter entered, his new protege loyally following behind him.


    Peter noted three members of M.L.M getting drunk at the bar. The sight made him clench his jaw. They would hopefully ignore him, so he would ignore them. And if they didn¡¯t, then he¡¯d remove a few parasites from the world.


    One of the M.L.M members noticed Peter¡¯s entrance, and must have marked the dark markings on his skin. The markings were too uniform to be the result of a disease, and too¡­ too off to be tattoos. They were clear indicators that he had some kind of deviation.


    He¡¯d hoped to avoid violence. But as the person who had noticed his markins cut off Peter¡¯s path, it became clear that he wouldn¡¯t escape it. The man in his path was far larger than Peter and in a show of intimidation he raised a mechanical arm to block his path. It was clean, not a single dent on its surface. That meant one of two things, either this man had little to no combat experience or he had been forced to replace his prosthetic after years of abuse. A quick look at the man¡¯s face made the former a clearly correct answer.


    The bartender looked at the unfolding situation with distaste. ¡°Why don¡¯t we take this outside?¡± Peter suggested.


    ¡°I see no reason for that.¡± The man raised his arm to strike.


    Peter made a shadow behind his opponent and swapped places with it. The strike passed through his clone like a knife through butter. One quick kick to the knee sent the larger man crumpling to the ground. One of the M.R.M agents pulled out a pistol and pointed it at Peter. A shadow formed in the seat next to the agent and with two quick strikes it broke the arm holding the gun and gave a devastating blow to the agent¡¯s jugular. Peter finished off the man on the ground with a heavy swing of his foot into their head.


    The final M.R.M agent was older than the others. She made no move to attack. Instead in an irritated voice she said. ¡°Stupid youths, they don¡¯t understand what it is we¡¯re fighting for¡­ If you¡¯d like, I''ll buy you a drink to make up for the trouble they caused.¡± The older women raised a benevolent cup in Peter¡¯s direction.


    ¡°I¡¯ll pass for now. But if you¡¯d be willing please watch my¡­ my apprentice. I have business with the manager.¡±


    The women nodded. Peter sensed no malice in her, he assumed that he could trust her to watch the boy for a few moments. And if his assumption was incorrect, he knew the bartender would strictly enforce any attempt to break the policies of the guild. The only reason he hadn¡¯t before was that Peter had acted quicker than he could.


    He pressed his thumb into another identification pad. The thing stung his finger more harshly than the previous one had. Hidden mechanisms whirred and shifted to allow a secure door to hiss open. Peter was about to step into the room when he felt a hand grabbing his shirt. He turned and saw the boy still loyally following right behind him. He had a worried look on his face.


    ¡°I¡¯ll just be gone for a bit. Go up to that man over there and ask for a soda.¡± The boy was reluctant, but it was apparent that his upbringing had given him a sense of obedience that he couldn¡¯t deny.


    Now free of the load he¡¯d chosen to carry, Peter could finally attend to his work.