Heroes Must Die

Jox

Edgebabby
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LURKER MEMBER
FOLKLORE MEMBER
A tall, slightly built figure wearing a purple beanie and a buttoned-up, greige trench coat entered the tavern. The man did not turn his head to look at the people that chatted at the nearby wooden tables but rather sat at an empty barstool.


"Will it be the usual? Scotch and soup?" said Bill. Bill had scraggly grey hairs and a long ponytail.


"Yeah, I mean no," his eyes stared at the television mounted on the wall. In a deep voice, he continued, "Soup and 151. I feel like shit. Might as well drink shit."


Bill wiped his hands on his green apron saying, "damn Chris, what happened?" Bill was the owner but was the type of guy that really cared about the regulars. Not just for business but out of a good heart.


"Eh, they fired me for a bullshit reason. Said I was too slow and that people thought I was creepy," Chris said while focusing on the television.


Bill glanced at the television and back at Chris and said, "for someone who seems to hate this show. You sure don't miss an episode. Eh, none of my business, the first round is on me." The tavern owner walked through black double-swinging doors that led to the kitchen.


Chris raised his eyebrows and grinned sarcastically as he heard the theme song of Power Men. The show began with a tall man with blue eyes and a handsome smile coming out of a black Mercedes in the busy streets of Dallas, Texas, the national capital of United Puissance ( fr. power). The host was dressed in a black, traditional suit and greeted everyone at the brick building he entered. A beautician dabs his face with powdered foundation and he enters a room with a white table and a holographic screen at his background. "Welcome to the 50th episode of POWER MEN!" An overly enthusiastic host yelled. "Today we have an exciting episode. As you know it's our 30th anniversary since we first aired. We have so much lined up for all of you. From special guests, upcoming heroes and world news.


"But first let's recap the last 30 years." The camera zoomed in on the screen behind him and showed old footage. Chris let out a sigh of relief as he didn't like seeing how the hosts lips didn't sync with the English Dub. English was a dying language even if it was the 3rd most popular language. Spanish had become the most popular and French was the official language of the world. French was taught in schools worldwide and was the default language for most software. "We will never forget where we came from. From our first Power Man, Renoman, a.k.a Clive Barker back when we were the United States. He died a hero. But had it not been for his death we probably wouldn't be the successful empire we are now… As you can see United States' Earth Boy, Mexico's El Vapor ( es, masc. The Vapor) and Canada's Homme de Diamant ( fr. Diamond Man) helped build a foundation for our government. With their help, the world was able to see world peace and voluntarily relinquish their archaic ways to something new. A world with no hunger, no sickness, and most of all no crime!".


"Bullshit," Chris whispered as he took off his beanie revealing his freshly shaved blonde hair with uneven patches. Bill returned with a wooden bowl and a shot glass. Chris sipped the rum glass saying, "please turn this off. It's killing me." He then stared at his drink thinking, 'I might as well drink rubbing alcohol.'


Bill reached for the TV and tapped it twice causing the screen to turn black. The owner shook his head at a crowd of young folk that loudly and obnoxiously laughed, while surrounding one of the corner tables. Bill whispered, "I hope we don't have trouble."
 
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Each snowflake was unique, Ella knew that, but when every snowflake was unique the uniqueness of the snowflake got lost and it just became snow, alike when thrown on a pile and ignored for the most part. Superheroes worked in the same way. Though their powers were unique there was a lack of individuality when there were so many of them, like boy bands, like girl groups. Once the market was saturated it didn’t matter how many petty thieves they caught, they were just another superhero, and just like snow turning into trudge, annoying those who had to pass through them, heroes turned into a nuisance of their own.

[With heroic intervention the situation near the Musee has been cleared. All traffickers going through 108 Lane are advised to seek out an alternative route until further notice.]

Wonderfully worded, Ella found, and any other day she wouldn’t have cared if the message hadn’t been right before she had to leave for class, using indeed, 108 Lane, for that was the fastest route down. A lane, which she also knew, didn’t cross the Musee, but was near it, perhaps just a little behind, which meant that they needed to reconstruct the road, because the hero of today had managed to break the road with whatever superpower they had.

Anyone could be a hero today, or tomorrow. Depending on what lightbulb lit up above the head of which citizen that was in no hurry unlike the rest.

And what the situation had been? Ella couldn’t tell, it wasn’t shared. May have been a cat in a tree, could have been a grandmother about to be robbed, maybe even a hostage situation, but in any case, in need of a hero to interfere and tear down 108 Lane, the lane she needed to get to class.

“Well,” Ella spoke through her phone, Leigh on the other side complaining about the unfairness of it all, “it was never my class to begin with. You just pay me for taking notes and even that you don’t use,” she told the male matter of factly who didn’t seem to like the answer he was receiving, judging from the protesting sound that muffled out of her speaker.

“Perhaps this is a sign, go to class I mean,” she said before her eyes fell on the clock, realising the time.

“You are in the bar, aren't you?” Ella’s next question came with squinted eyes that the receiver didn’t see, but it was all she needed to convince her friend Leigh to admit that he was, the background laughter adding to the effect of what felt like a comedy routine between the two if they were a sitcom.

“Tell Bill I will poison his drinks if he keeps on serving you,” she warns before hanging up, knowing that the message will never be copied to the bar owner, just as much as she knew that she was never going to reach the bar before Leigh had ditched the place already, leaving the bill unpaid.

It was with luck that she had nipped her buddy’s credit card, for none of Ella’s accounts could cover the amount Leigh loved to drink, and to serve to the crowd.

Rich people were, in that regard, just as helpless as heroes who blocked entire roads for a measly task.

By the time Ella finally arrived at Bill’s bar the place Leigh had surprisingly not left yet, the television just turning to black as the blond stood up from his seat, arms spread out wide as if aghast.

“Hey, hey, what’s up, I was watching our good heroes!” the male yelled, turning into the direction of Bill and a loner at the bar. “Got something against them?” Leigh would continue to taunt before Ella had snuck up on the taller male, throwing her bag into the back of his head.

“Hey, what’s good indeed,” came her sneer before throwing Bill a wave as the rest of the group bawled, whooping at Ella for taking down their ring leader. A comedy sketch indeed, and a sight they had grown much too used to.

“Underwood trash,” Ella would tell the stranger as she pointed with a thumb at Leigh, to which the bartender would shrug knowingly, as if insulting the minister of heroes and superpower regulation was a daily occurrence as well.

dialogue colour: #fbba75
 
Chris clenched his hands tensely as the rowdy man questioned if he had something against heroes. Not that it was illegal to dislike heroes nor was it unheard of. There were political groups that felt superheroes were a weapon to be controlled not admired. Religions that were anti-heroes, as well as cults that practically worshipped superhumans. But these were a minority. Science, academic truth, held the idea that superheroes were the response to the human race evolving.


** 6 hours ago


"Chris, my man, come in," a muscular man in a suit said while gesturing to Chris to sit down. Chris looked around briefly at the various awards, especially the one behind the muscular man's chair. 'For Rescuing 100 people in the line of duty', read a wooden frame with gold trimming. "Chris?" Chris quickly sat down as if just hearing.


"Yes, sorry," Chris replied timidly.


"Look Man. In all my years, I've never seen anyone clean as good as you. And I've seen a lot boy. But…" the man tapped his fingers on his desk as if thinking.


Chris thought, 'you're like 10 years older than me.'


"I'm the principal and like my super days. I have a responsibility to the school's image. People talk. And people say you stare a lot at the ladies and guys here," he added nonchalantly as if he didn't think Chris did anything wrong.


Chris had been working at a prestigious school of potential super workers that decided to take their abilities to a professional level after highschool. The principal continued, "I don't think you're a good fit man. You're creepy as all hell." The principal stood up to shake Chris' hand.


** Present


Chris stood up slowly as if going to address the man. Was he going to turn around and punch the man in his eye socket? Unlikely. Chris was physically built but it seemed like his mind didn't know that.


As he stood, he heard the familiar sound of the front door creak. Who was the door letting in this time? Maybe an evening drunk? Maybe a loser just like him?


Contrary to his thoughts; he heard a thwap and then a sweet voice say, "Underwood trash." And just like that the tension had turned into laughter. It was like the innocent rivalry between Norwegians and Swedish, in the old days when they fought for one king. And well Sweden won the football game and the crowd went wild.


Chris watched as she walked by like a cool wind during a summer day. He almost lost this connection, hadn't Bill said, "Hey Ella this is Chris. He's a good guy."


Chris, probably standing, turned his face back to his food and nervously sat down. Chris thought, 'Bill, I don't need your help with the ladies.' But in real life Chris said nothing. As far as ladies were concerned, Chris had his fun but only with women that could see past his timidness or just wanted to take advantage of him. It wasn't that Chris feared rejection analytically. He didn't need society to cuddle him. He didn't need constant relationships. But he feared the feeling of rejection left behind - shame, vulnerability. Chris turned to see who everyone was cheering for. All he could do was hold his breathe and feel inadequate at the beauty that stood before him. And then he so gracefully ( narrative sarcasm) uttered, "hi."
 
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It was always a little tricky walking into a bar looking for Leigh. The Underwood heir was popular, as expected from children of popular politicians, but it was also part of his superpower, a charm that made him undeniable to others. To top it off, he was rich, and everyone liked the rich that threw around their money like liquid and toasted each round. It also meant that Leigh could be a bit of a bully, a provocer if one willed and here Ella always held her breath when she was looking for him out drinking. It was never known what state she could find Leigh in, and what this could potentially mean. Ella just knew that a lot got hushed up, covered and silenced in the same way as she did with one sling of her bag and the cheer of the rest.

“Anyone is a good guy compared to that,” Ella had responded with a laugh, a thumb pointed into the direction of a still groaning Leigh who was pretending that the bag had hurt him more than it actually did. Typical behaviour, and Ella shot him a warning look.

“You joining us, Ella? Leigh pays,” one of the men in Leigh’s crowd asked, as if there was a night in which Leigh didn’t pay. There was a reason why Ella had his card, after all. “Yeah, join us! Maybe mix something as well,” another chimed in, earning another round of smacks on his shoulders from the fellows standing near, for everyone knew about Ella’s concoctions.

All that the female had observed, used to the rowdy sight as she lamented befriending these hopeless bunch ever in her life and getting involved with Leigh. “I think that tonight I will look for new friends,” was her reply, flashing the black card with Leigh’s name imprinted on it before she turned on her heels, skipping over to Bill and Chris-the-nice-shy-guy.

“Yo good guy, need another drink?” she jested before pushing the card into the direction of Bill, a secret exchange of glances containing a whole conversation that they had held a thousand-and-one times. “Leigh pays, so don’t worry about the tab,” she tells Chris anyway, in case it wasn’t clear.

Dialogue colour: #fbba75
 
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Chris slanted his head slightly for a few seconds, like a confused puppy, until it dawned on him that he was the 'good guy'. She was talking to him. Chris was not slow or developmentally challenged, as far as he knew even if barhoppers held different opinions. But he was a dreamer. He was lost in a stream of thoughts.

He turned his head to look at the blonde bar sponsor, who'd totally forgotten how important it was to watch heroes on the television. 'Not a bad looking guy', he thought to himself. He played back everything that had happened in his head and pretty much understood the playfulness and light atmosphere that she had brought to the bar. Now caught up with reality, he turned to take a look at her facial features and nodded as if saying, 'you're alright. I think you're my equal.'

He then looked at the owner of the bar, who smiled to himself as if reliving an old joke. "Roku," Chris said, pulling his trench coat off his body and into the backside of his stool. "One rock," he added. Chris was not the type of person to ask someone what was their name or what was their favorite hobby. Not that those things weren't important, especially to individualistic societies, but he felt personal things should be gifted not expected. A name, the things men do on their own time, or where they worked was rather intimate. And should be shared when each person is ready. "Your b…" he paused, realizing he was assuming. "Your friend is handsome." The baldish Bill then interjected, putting a clear bottle with Japanese lettering, in front of them and two small rocks glasses.

Chris pulled at his red and black flannel shirt over blue jeans then before Bill could serve the two patrons, Chris opened the bottle and served himself a few ounces then looked at the lady nodding again, as if saying, 'allow me the pleasure to serve you. Let us be one'. Whether she took the drink or not, or drank something else, he'd say, while lifting his cup in the air,"idiots drink too much, and bigger idiots drink nothing at all." With that he took a sip and let out a soft, "yaaah," as the gin smoothly burned his throat with great delight.
 
Shy, or reserved? Ella couldn’t quite make it out, but she knew herself to be neither, nor bothered, Intent on figuring out what this ‘Roku’ was that had been ordered with an intent to order the same. She liked trying new things, after all, and when it wasn’t she who had to pay then there was no drink she would be unwilling to try.

“Sounds good for me as well!” Ella had said when the bottle appeared, the size of the glasses that came with it indicated how the drink was about to go down. Nothing Ella feared, still, for that would be hypocritical considering what she made others drink on a regular basis. The scoff that escaped her thus was not one of the anxious sort, or anything targeted against the drink, as she turned over to check on Leigh in the back, already sufficiently distracted by the crowd he had dragged out for tonight.

“Try telling him that, maybe his head will finally explode,” she jested, obviously not actually hoping for Leigh’s head to blow off, even if she did sometimes wish the male to be gone. She ignored the quick correction Chris made, knowing that it was an assumption many made, though a scowl couldn’t hide itself on Ella’s face at the mere thought of it. “Been babysitting that dude since... Been too long, but he would have been disowned without me as his conscience,” Ella grinned as she pushed the remaining empty shot towards the bottle of ‘Roku’. She didn’t add to it that Leigh also happened to be her wallet, for there was no way Ella could have afforded a cushy student life without her reassurance to the Underwood family to make something of their rambunctious heir.

“And you, what brings you alone to a bar?” She questioned her experience with bars being with friends only so far. Not that Ella ever found herself alone much, what with Leigh hanging around her and the people he brought. It struck her with some envy even, to know that there was the option to enjoy experiences alone.