Underground Hatred - My Hero Origins (MHO)

17: Cryptic Dead End

Word Count: 2008

(Kat)

 "It's weird walking around the city at this hour," Kat thought to herself aloud, giving Davis insight to her comments.

The man walked beside her at a reasonable pace, eyes locked on the sidewalk they wandered. The wind along the streets whipped his hair upwards in a slight manner; memories flooded back to Kat at the sight, her stomach growing warm. The increase of a heartbeat was difficult to simmer down with the vivid images ingrained into her head.

"Th—There might not be anyone because i—it's not the weekend," Davis pointed out. His words never skipped rhythm as Kat's brain ran a different direction.

"It's probably for the better," Kat muttered that time. Her eyes wandered to the sidewalk, gluing to her feet shrouded in her chestnut boots. A silent prayer was given that the heat on her cheeks was nearly impossible to spot with the bitter breeze slapping her face. "Don't wanna get caught, right?"

"B—But something feels... off."

Davis's words opened a pit at the bottom of Kat's stomach. Her amber eyes—slightly widened with the new paranoia—swept the area, searching for any oddities: nothing. Her body drew unconsciously closer to Davis, taking refuge in the safety of his tall figure. Though, she was wary enough to stay a few steps away, not wanting to spook Davis if she brushed up against him; she battled with herself what would occur if that did happen, how she would react, how she would apologize. The odd dream continued to play over and over again in her head without any hesitation of stopping, of pausing to give her a breath.

She was running a marathon: trying to decipher what any of it meant, what kind of emotions it stirred inside her, but ultimately got left in the dust, the goal farther than ever.

"There," Davis blurted through Kat's thoughts. His elbow slightly curled his forearm upwards, index finger pointing to the end of the street. Kat followed where the finger directed, finding the street sign.

Eleventh Street.

"Do you remember the payphone number?" she asked, glancing up towards Davis. Her tone added an edge of anxiety.

"I—I have it saved on my phone. C—Come on, it's almost midnight."

The two hurried down the street, neither peeking at any random strangers that walked past them, eyebrows furrowed to see such young people out so late. The wind picked up speed as well, beating against Kat's back. Goose bumps raced along her skin, but her adrenaline coursed heat through her veins. Her heart thrummed, anxious to get their late-night mission over with.

The corner turned. Kat and Davis had grown used to walking beside each other, their strides now matching perfectly in speed—though, they began a new rush of excitement—yet dread—to discover the new clue. A bus whizzed by on the street, exhaust catching in the air. The fossil fuels mixed with the icicles in the frozen breeze, stabbing through the lining of Kat's lungs. Three homeless people muttered at the side, all huddling against a building to take cover from the incoming Winter. The fluorescent, awe-striking lights of the billboards and late-night shops danced shadows beside the couple's, following and prying in on the mission. The wind whispered annoyance, such as children when they wonder about a surprise.

"O—On the side of this payphone," Davis started, interrupting the street's own voice and pausing beside the closest payphone to the couple, "h—has the serial number. Th—This has the number 136: we n—need 138."

"I'm glad someone did their research," Kat laughed uncomfortably, face rising in heat. "Now I feel like an ass for not coming prepared."

"I—It's fine, Kat. Honestly, d—don't worry about it," the man reassured, giving the tiniest meek smile that only Kat could catch. He nodded his head down the rest of the block, which appeared to carry on for miles with the ache of Kat's feet. "We j—just need to find the one with th—the serial number of 138."