Titans

Chapter 6: Lazarus

I am not a boy, I am a ghost. A specter the world ignored until I made my message known to them; the message that all super beings are not saviors, but harbingers of destruction. The boy you all see is no longer alive, killed long ago and resurrected as who I am in the present, hence my name: Lazarus.

What is a superhero? There is a nonsensical societal view that they are gods, sent here to protect us from their supposed evil counterparts. But there are no counterparts, they are one in the same. If a police officer came to your rescue and harmed you in the process, would you forgive him? Would you in fact feel protected? I think not.

Egomaniacs clad in spandex do not deserve the moniker of "Hero", they most certainly should not have our lives in their hands. Yet we trust them implicitly because of their actions. They are not saving us, they are simply making thunderous noise and making us fear them, not respect them; much like thunder to the ancient natives. They don't care for us, they only care for superiority.

That superiority is soon coming to an end, I'll be the one to say "No more" and save humanity, TRULY save humanity. How do you get rid of an egomaniac? Challenge and crush their ego with another egomaniac. Fight fire with fire. Sooner or later, they'll snuff each other out. But as we've seen in the past, these monsters are a tenacious bunch, and with a tenacious opponent, it always pays to have a back up plan.

Thumping bass accompanies blaring club music in a seedy underground club with only dim red lighting to visually aid the sweaty dancing bodies inside. Lazarus, the hooded boy who just hours ago threw all of earth into turmoil, enters the club via a doorway that lead into a downward staircase that was between two dirty brick walls. His look easily helped him fit in with the crowd inside, his hood obscuring his face and hiding his age; not that anyone present was paying any attention. Lazarus made his way through the crowd with a ghostly stride feeling indifferent to the environment where as anyone else who didn't belong there would be irritated. Lazarus makes his way to a back area where a large bruiser of a bodyguard stood before a door. His rough look of a shaved head and damaged milky white eye didn't deter young Lazarus at all.

"Yes?" asked the bodyguard in a low deep voice. "I'm here for the treasure from King" Lazarus says. The bodyguard grimaces with confusion, who was this kid? "What? What happened to Lazarus?" asked the bodyguard. "I am Lazarus" he answered with a calm reassurance. "The guy who called out the Super freak and scared the planet was a kid? That was you?" the bodyguard asked skeptically, but he was only answered with the muffled bass of the club and Lazarus' stoic demeanor. Eventually the bodyguard shrugs and steps aside opening the door he was guarding. He chuckles as Lazarus walks by, "A kid, freakin' crazy" the bodyguard remarks as he closes the door and continues guarding it from the outside. Inside was a back room lousy with smoke and in the center of it all: a small table with five men seated at it. One of them looking rather sharp wearing a gray suit with a pink undershirt, slicked back brown hair, and most notable: a four finger ring that spells out "King" in gaudy yellow gold letters. There was No doubt as to who was who in the room. The men all turn to Lazarus looking at him with understandable confusion, "Can I 'elp you?" King asked with a thick cockney accent and with an air of defensiveness. The other four men straighten up defensively as well.

"Lazarus, I'm here for the treasure" Lazarus explains. King raises an eyebrow "W.....wha? Where's Lazarus? YOU'RE Lazarus?" King asks slightly bemused. Like before Lazarus answers the question of his identity with stoic silence. King lets out a rapid chuckle and claps sitting back in his chair, "'oly shit! You really are ain't ya? The one who tricked the super people! You got balls, kid!". It didn't show in his demeanor but Lazarus was growing impatient and cut to the chase "Do you have it?" Lazarus asked in a calm tone. "Yeah. Yeah, I got it" King snaps his fingers and a statuesque woman walks up and places a silver suitcase on the table. King opens it and turns it around revealing a shiny orange sphere emblazoned with five red stars embossed on the front: the five star dragon ball.

"Now question is: do you have what *I* need? everyfing has a price don't it?". "I agree, Mr. King" Lazarus begins, "and that price will be your life if you do not give that to me willingly". The room erupts in laughter and King pulls out a pistol and lazily brandishes it, his comfortability with the intent to kill was apparent. "Get the fuck out my club, mate" King demands. Lazarus responds with a throwing knife that he expertly tosses into King's eye. The impact causes King to fall back and his finger pulls the trigger on his gun which shoots one of his henchmen in the head. The woman from before screams and hides and the remaining men stand up and hold up their hands fully respecting the threat the boy posed. Lazarus walks up and grabs the dragon ball, takes a second to appreciate it, and then turns to leave. As he turns to leave he pushes a part of his robe aside to reveal a belt that was holstering four other dragon balls, each with the respective number of stars. He places the five star ball in its holster and walks out of the club, the denizens inside completely unaware of the incident that just transpired due to being lost to the thumping beats.

The reign of the Superhero is over.