A Hero's Lament | ONC 2023

Awakening

Dusk bathed silhouettes shuffling past Tasty Pastry's shopfront. For eternity, Tristan stared fixedly at their diverse shapes but a glance at his phone confirmed only ten minutes expired. He sighed, mashed his cheek against his palm and battled the urge to brood over Kelvin's escalated isolation.

Cream and caramel uniforms scuttled between tables; pancakes and cappuccinos cluttered trays. The waitrons had forsaken the corner table after several inquiries regarding the second person's arrival.

Examining the stains patterning his mug's interior, while inhaling Tasty Pastry's bittersweet aroma, only killed moments. Tristan turned his attention to the café's décor again: assorted breads and confectionaries mosaicked the ceiling, each a unique shade, shape and size, the art style reminiscent of the Renaissance; light fixtures replicated platted dough and cast diamond flecks below; tables and chairs resembled bread rolls; a frothy texture likened the floor to a coffee sea upon which waitrons, patrons and furniture floated.

Any silhouette glancing through the shopfront could tell Tasty Pastry attracted three client types: students relaxing after lectures or exams, young families treating the kids to dessert and couples on their first date. Only the corner table hosted a single patron.

Tristan's head sank onto his table's crumby texture while pondering a future wife and children. Hayleigh's decision to remain single abruptly banished this train of thought. Summoning the green light that enveloped her to the forefront of his mind, Tristan confronted the reality he faced: enemies potentially targeting anyone he loved. His type, orphans and abuse survivors Keyboard Warrior and the Internet mocked, shouldered this guardianship for a reason: without Hayleigh Harvey or Kelvin Shellman standing beside him, Eros harboured no weakness.

Another backpack cluster passed the shopfront. Disappointed and relieved, Tristan resigned himself to check his phone for the last time. Forty-five minutes expired since his arrival. Before informing Alya that something had come up, before cementing his resolve never to see her again, a flicker seized his attention.

On the TV nestling the ceiling corner most patrons faced, the sports channel switched to the news. Ajay Chatterjee, Mirrormeander's famous reporter, stood outside Cash-Strapped Bank, directing his soulless stare into the camera. No sound emanated from the speakers but a ribbon sailing past the bottom of the screen informed viewers of a heist in progress.

Tristan ground his teeth and clenched his fists. Too long had Eros shirked his duty. Expectedly, other patrons paid little attention to the news. Few complained about missing the game or Eros and Captain Slovurn's incompetence.

A chill jolted down Tristan's spine. Trembling, he envisioned Alya trapped inside Cash-Strapped Bank! Slapping coins onto his table, Tristan dashed outside then jostled his way along the sidewalk, head pivoting in search of an abandoned alleyway. Finding none, he stood motionless against the tide.

Amid irritated glances and mutterings, Tristan threw caution to the wind and leapt toward the amaranth sky. The sapphire exoskeleton embraced his skin; the heart-shaped visor, reflected by surrounding mirrored glass panes, concealed rage the screens displaying William Intel's glower provoked.

A fissure divided the street when Eros' boots crashed onto it. Awestruck motorists and pedestrians froze as Eros ricocheted off mirrored glass surfaces toward the central business district. Excitement buzzed along the sidewalks. Eros' sudden re-emergence dominated Check-Dat and Bicker's trending topics. Within seconds, the conversation routed the general public toward Cash-Strapped Bank.

By the time Eros arrived, thousands already swarmed the crime scene. Voices clamoured for access, chanted Eros' name or whispered rumours of Keyboard Warrior's involvement. Before the main entrance, where gold and assorted cash symbols framed sliding doors, Captain Slovurn stood tense. Police officers, heavily armed and equipped with riot gear, formed a barrier between her and the general public.