Just Like Old Times

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Mr. Sam watched the monitors monitoring the teenagers under his protection. At least, he tried to. The cameras and monitors they were connected to were early tech from the 20th century. Thankfully, they had some sound; only enough so that if something big were to happen, Mr. Sam would be able to here it over the endlessly buzzing static. That is exactly what happened, as he heard what sounded like an explosion from the domestic dispute area only moments after he had given the three their go ahead and had turned his head back towards the spontaneous fire area. He turned back, the monitors facing the house were out. The only monitor left was the one pointing at the starting area. Mr. Sam saw as Yin and Joy were holding each other, shaking in fear. Mr. Sam knew something was wrong. He tried to call out using the speaker, but it had stopped working (it must have been destroyed in that explosion he heard earlier, Mr. Sam thought). He quickly decided to rush down there himself.

As he was running, he began to think about what led him here, to this point in his life. Once upon a time, he was happy. He once had a living daughter, and a close relationship to his wife, Madam Eden. Before that, he had been a vigilante. To be a superhero, one had to be registered to the government hero registry. Essentially, they were government agents. One would also have to give up their identity. Mr. Sam didn't like this. Not for himself, however. He was more of a protester who did vigilante work on the side. It was his friend who he actually protested for. His friend, Marius, as he was called, would do vigilante work as a full-time gig. Mr. Sam never asked him why. He was adamant that his identity could never be revealed. He died in a bombing done by his nemesis, the villain who called herself Spector. On that same day, the vigilantes group hideout (which was a bar inside an abandoned aircraft hangar outside of town) was stormed by a hero team. This hero team Had Madam Eden on it. Mr. Sam was given an ultimatum; be arrested, or use his teachings skills at an actual school (he would often teach others the best ways to rebel against the government).

Mr. Sam had finally arrived at the domestic dispute area. Joy was unconscious on the ground, Yin was holding her, and Damien was nowhere to be seen. In front of him were two men. The first was incapacitated on the ground. He didn't know how they did it, but he would have to praise the Liu sisters later. The other man, however, was clearly the leader of the group.

"Go, get Joy to safety." Mr. Sam spoke urgently to Yin.

"There was another guy, he flew towards the others!" Yin stressed, before picking up her older sister and running off.

"She's right you know." The man laughed. "My friend's probably torn through all your children by now." The man gave an evil smirk, showing his crooked and pointy teeth.

"Who are you, how did you get in here?"

"hahahaha, you have no idea how many times I've heard that. Alright, I'll humor you. My name is Harbinger, and I bring about demise."

Mr. Sam had to stifle a chuckle at his name.

"As for how I'm here, well let's just say I know a guy or two. Hell, I'll give you a bonus and tell you why I'm here. I just want that kid of yours what that can teleport. We could use her, y'know, to make teleporting devices and what not that we just used to get in, but without the explosions."

"I can't let you do that." Mr. Sam got into a fighting stance. He wasn't much of a fighter, and he hadn't fought in years, but he could buy some time. "I'm going to stop you, right here, right now!"

The man smiled. "Sure, we could do that, or I could do this." The man chucked a brick and Mr. Sam's head. He didn't feel the brick hit him. He didn't feel himself hit the floor. he didn't feel his hand press the emergency button. he could only hope he had presses it, and the children were safe. He could only feel the wetness of the pouring blood. He tried to stand, and saw something crazy. He looked up, and he could've sworn he saw his old friend Marius fighting off the Harbinger.

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