Through the eyes of spoiled diva Roman Malaysia Friar, Royal Woods didn't need saving. The small city was fine just how it was before those four pesky superheroes came along and managed to woo the public with their unnatural abilities, making a name...
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002. ROMAN HAS A CRISIS.
The rest of that night was very much a blur. I probably could've gotten hit by a car and I wouldn't have remembered it. My vision was still hazy and clouded neon blue around the edges. There was a sharp pain in my neck and my head ached, but I was too tired and worn to register anything other than my mind screaming at me: DON'T GO HOME! DON'T GO TO ELIZA'S! DON'T LET THEM SEE YOU LIKE THIS!
My feet pedaled past Eliza and I's condominiums, taking me to the darker, more run down part of the city where my uncle, Marcus Vaughn, lived. I'd always believed he was a genius, contrary to my parents' beliefs. He was always telling me stuff my parents didn't want me to hear, always keeping me out of trouble, and he was my go to when I needed information on Royal Woods's history.
My aunt used to be on his side as well, always pitching in on information I, in my parents' opinion, didn't need to know. She was so lively and easy to talk to, the warmest lady you could ever meet. And she was good for uncle Marcus. She'd left us all too soon, and I had no idea how or why. That was one thing Marcus never told me.
"Not everyone is meant to be the good guy, Roman. Remember that. Our family, although you may not know it yet, was a prime example. If you ever get the chance, we're giving you permission to be the bad guy. Cause we know you'll give 'em all a run for their money."
His words echoed through my head for the second time that night and something told me that I was remembering them for a reason. He'd told me this a few weeks before auntie disappeared and it was one thing she didn't speak on. After he'd said it to me, she shook her head in an almost disapproving manner and shooed him off, throwing an arm around my shoulder and leading me out of their small kitchen. She hadn't denied nor agreed with his statement, something I, twelve year old Roman, hadn't thought about then.
I slowed my pedaling and leaned Eliza's bike up against the side of the building before heading around to the fire escape. Going inside and taking the elevator would have been the easier option, but I was soaked and covered in some strange blue substance. Mike, the front-desk-guy as I always called him, was extremely nosy and I was too weak and tired to deal with his questions.
My uncle lived on the fourth floor and I was able to stumble up the steps and in front of his closed window. Through the cracks in his blinds I could see light, indicating that he was still awake, luckily for me. I rapped my knuckles against the window a few times to get his attention. It was a moment before the blinds were pulled, and I flashed my sarcastic, million dollar smile at him when we made eye contact. He chuckled and slid the window upward, turning his back to me as I slid inside.
He didn't bother asking why I was at his place at one thirty in the morning or why I was covered in a runny blue liquid. That's why I loved him, he didn't ask questions, he answered them.
I followed slowly, cautiously and drearily, my eyelids drooping as I looked around his place. Paper was scattered all over the floor, some of it notebook paper, some of it tattered pages ripped out of books stacked messily in different corners of the room. Uncle Marcus's desk light was on and in that area I saw it to be strangely neat. An open, brown leatherback book, two black ink pens, a pencil and a cup of coffee we're all neatly placed in the middle of the rectangular desk, the lamp shining directly on them. A remote sat on the edge of the desk as well.
