A Hero's Duty

Chapter One

    A figure stands at the edge of the tallest building in the city of Tawms. His gaze is of one a mother bear wears when overseeing her cubs. He feels both protective and full of pride. He can't help allowing a small smile to grace his lips at witnessing the happiness below. People all around were enjoying the holiday cheer; little children were excitedly pointing toward the colorful explosions in the night sky while adults gathered and laughed with beers in their hands. Some teens ran around with sparklers in their grasp as others chatted around a bonfire roasting various things from marshmallows to hot dogs. An old wooden carriage pulled by horses circled the square offering rides to interested customers. And in the center was a stage, giving all the local bands a chance to win a contest to play along with Panophobia, a town favorite. The sight was breathtaking.
    The fourth of July celebration brought out all different ages and social groups. Bennett Monroe, from the fashion and design department of Tawms' biggest modeling agency, patiently assisted a small child with their first s'more. Nolan Prescott, the lead singer of the nationally recognized band Panophobia, offered his hand to little Kai Damiani and pulled her on stage. The punk female shook with poorly concealed excitement. It could just be his eyes playing tricks on him, but the hero believed he could see the painfully shy Ashley Dixon playing catch with Enrique Diaz and his dog. All the while, the mayor walked around openly with the citizens of his city, offering sparklers to anyone who flashed him a smile. He organized events like this often, drawing people from their homes to socialize and drop their worries.
    The hero leaned his back on the building's column, closing his eyes as he enjoyed the wind playing with his golden-brown locks. The smells of roasting treats and the sound of voices mixing sweetly with the guitar solo, lulling his muscles to sleep. The smile still graced his smooth features. His relaxed position, however, did not last as a particularly loud explosion and an outbreak of screams forced him to stand upright quickly. His eyes immediately zoning into the direction the sound came from without difficulty. Parents grabbed their children while running in the opposite direction. Dogs barked as they struggled against their owners' hold to get away quicker; fires spread with firework safety being disregarded in the chaos of the situation.

    Taking action, the hero flew into the air, speeding towards the source of the chaos. The sight that met his eyes crushed his heart. Blood pooled around the once intact carriage, the horses fell over and surrounded by flames. The hero was momentarily stunned that things had changed so rapidly. A wet, sticky substance landed on the flabbergasted man's chest. With a careful hand, he peeled the object from his anatomy only to face another piece of anatomy. In his grasp was a human liver; his stomach churned. Maniacal laughter cued in once he dropped the object from his hand. The source of the stomach-dropping noise being a short, thin man currently tearing the organs from a child's body. He acted as if he were playing a game as he grasped the stringy veins and wrapped them around the child's stomach, trying to dislodge it from its position under the rib. It only resulted in snapping the veins, blood leaking from them and bits of the insides splashing the murderer's mask. What he thought to be the child's mother, screamed for the stranger to have mercy from the sidelines.

    "Oh, my hero," the man mocked when he noticed the hero approach. "Do you want to play with me?"
    "Who are you?" The hero ignored the man's question, distaste apparent in his tone. From the sound of his voice, the man couldn't be any older than twenty. The thought brought the beloved hero sickness-the idea that evil corrupted at such a young age.
    "My monster of a mother always told me it was common courtesy to introduce oneself first, just another lie she's told me I see."
    The comment made the hero's blood boil. What human would refer to his mother as a monster? He growled, taking the boy's shoulders in his hands, and jerking him towards himself.      The boy's eyes glistened mischievously behind his black leather mask.
    "I am here to strike fear into your soul and bring you to justice," he took the front of the stranger's hoodie in his left hand while he pushed his own brown hair from his masquerade-like mask with his right. "The Golden Aura."
    The villain wanted to laugh at his theatrics.
    The news vans were now present on the scene, obnoxious reporters shouted into microphones while camera operators filmed it all. A crowd grew a great distance around them causing the villain's eyes to turn murderous. He wasn't one for public entertainment, but the audience wanted a show. Golden Aura was surprised when small dainty hands gripped his upper arm, but his expression immediately changed to grief as the boy in his hands landed a kick to the hero's face. He cleverly used his feet to push off the older man's face flipping backward out of his grasp.
    The boy's move forced him to be closer to the flames. It illuminated the fiery color of his hair, which contrasted greatly to the pale skin visible around his eyes. The boy did not hesitate to reach behind him and retrieve... children's toys. Toys that many infants would entertain themselves with; this strange weapon of choice confused him greatly. The objects resembled rattles, with bright neon colors and even a flower design. He was unsure of what action to take; however, an intense pain made him react despite his previous uncertainty. The rattle's petals sharpened to little green blades on the sides while the center of the flower lengthened into an orange sword stabbing into the hero's sides.
    His injury brought forth another dose of that maniacal laughter.
    The crazed man withdrew his blades then gunned it down the street, jumping and flipping over obstacles. Golden Aura was hot on his trail, forcing himself to ignore the pain of the two stab wounds on opposite sides of his torso. He wasn't letting him get away. The villain quickly shortened his rattle sword until they looked like toys again and threw them in a bag at his side, one Golden Aura had not noticed until that moment. From the bag, he dropped two transparent building blocks. The hero wasn't exactly sure what to expect until the blocks produced green lights that danced at a random pattern through the air. He scoffed under his breath. There wa5s no way that shiny lights could distract him; he wasn't a toddler.
    "Haa," the hero hissed in pain as what he had presumed were green lights burned holes into his hand. Only then did the screams of the people near him fully register in his ears. In his moment of stupor, he witnessed Molly Dion, third grade teacher at Makilion Elementary School, drop to her knees with a gaping hole where her left eye used to be. Not far behind her, Brett Foster, the newly graduated law student from Adkins University of Business and Law, clutched at a hole in his abdomen, the light burning through his fingers too. Golden Aura tried in vain to save Addison Carr, the daughter of Matthew Carr who had just lost his wife last winter, but the light burned through his body and passed through hers before he could move her to safety.
    "Stop this," the hero shouted toward the villain who had taken refuge on a news van; his voice wrecked with desperation.
    The villain smiled a cruel, savage grin and leaned over to speak to a female reporter who cowered behind the very van he stood on top. "Care to dance?"
    The dark-haired lady shook her head with vigor, but the villain snatched her hand anyway pulling her on top of the van. He manhandled her struggling body, forcing her to spin and bend at his will. They danced to the screams of the people, the sound of the bodies dropping lifeless to the ground acting as a beat. Meanwhile Golden Aura struggled to get the terrified citizens of Tawms to a safe distance, but with every wave of the evil boy's hand, the blocks jumped and changed position, in turn, allowing a bigger range of destruction.
    Soon the villain grew tired of the tears streaming down the woman's face and the incomplete beat of the music in his head. So, he grabbed the woman and headed for the highest building he could reach since he didn't have the power of flight. There, he held her close to his body, leaving gentle kisses at the nape of her neck and sliding his hands down the curve of her body before lifting his right gloved hand in the air and snapping. The lights had stopped, and ever so slowly the blocks began to rise to his position on the building.
    Just as he had assumed, Golden Aura followed the blocks, seething in his need to physically cause harm to the man who had killed so many of his people. He was moving faster than the blocks. The villain wouldn't be able to leave without them. But the villain had prepared for that; he grabbed the reporter by her neck and brought his mouth near her ear, giving it a playful nibble.
    "Call me Fear," he whispered before hurling her over the edge of the building beside where the hero was getting too close.
    The hero broke off Fear's path rushing to the lady's aid. The wind whipped at his strands of hair; the gentle caress long gone, it went away with the peace. Screams lingered in the breeze even after the woman was safely in his arms. Her breathing was labored as she wound her arms around Golden Aura's neck, choking him with the fear of falling. When the lady's feet finally made contact with the ground, the hero glanced toward the rooftops.