Trial by Fire

Chapter I

             "Superheroes. People who can fly and shoot lasers out of their eyes. Symbols of peace and heroes of war. Kissing babies and what-not. We put our trust in people who wear masks, not knowing who they are or even what they are. In that sense I really don't know why we trust them, we can't see their eyes. I know that eyes aren't that important in the grand scheme of things, but I'd like to see who's saving me. I'm well aware that we owe them a lot but I don't see the point of putting trust in an image. What about the people that they couldn't save, the wars they couldn't win. As if saving a few lives outweighs the events that they caused. The villains helped to create. Take the incident of 1985, The hero "Mockinbird" was fighting the villain "Shadow caster" When the villain threatened to kill Matthew's family, made up of Barbara Matthew, the mother, David the father and their twin daughters Kathleen and Mary. The hero chose to kill the villain, instead of saving the family who was drowning in the villain's shadows. Keep in mind that the hero could have stopped the villain while saving the family. The family and the villain died without ever needing to. Mockinbird was hailed as a hero for defeating the dangerous villain. The family was a forgotten causality and the hero... well, the hero was given a thousand awards. As if they didn't ki-"

            "*Arron Moretti to the office for early dismissal, Arron Moretti for early dismissal*" The loudspeaker blared cutting off the boy who was speaking.

            "Okay, Arron we'll finish that tomorrow" The middle-aged teacher sighed not looking forward to the rest of the essay. The blue-haired boy sighed as he collected his stuff, not willing to go home and wanting to finish his essay that he worked so hard on. His backpack was ripped in the bottom but sealed up with duct tape. As he walked out of the grey classroom into the pasty blue halls he was hit with the overwhelming scent of glue and paint. He sped walked out of there not wanting to get a headache from the paint fumes. As he walked into the office where a tall red-haired woman was waiting. Her hair was up in curls, making her look much younger than she was. 

             "Hey, Elizabeth," he sighed wanting to get this over with. The older woman towered over him as she stared with cold grey eyes at the boy. She rolled her eyes framed with gold crescent moon glasses. Her blood-red stained lips pursed as she walked out of the office, Arron in tow. The cold November air stung Arron's skin as he sped up to catch up with the taller woman. It was plain to see that they weren't related, her towering stature overpowering, the short whisp of a boy.

            "Your father requested you get home early, he apparently has something to discuss with you," The older woman said looking at Arron out of the corner of her eye. Arron slumped low in his seat, his father talking to him never went well, he and his father had opposing opinions on most things. Not to mention the fact that he was and in Arron's mind will always be a jackass/ 

            He pulled out his phone, his delicate fingers swiping through the lock and began to blast his music. His eyes wandered to the world flashing by, cars and trees streaked together in beautiful chaos. His head leaned up against the glass as his bright green eyes shut. Those eyes were the only similarity that he shares with his old man. Something, that was both a curse and a blessing. The world seemed to melt away as he was lulled to a dreamless sleep by pounding bass drum and powerful guitar.

               He awoke to the sound of the car door slamming shut, signaling that they were home. He rubbed his eyes slightly and opened the car door feeling the breeze wake him up fully. Arron gathered his things as he trudged up the sidewalk where Elizabeth was waiting, slightly annoyed expression on her once beautiful face.

            "Don't let your face get stuck like that," he mumbled with a slight smile.

            "I beg your pardon," she said her eyes beginning to twitch. Arron gave no answer and walked into the large house that couldn't exactly be called a home. He slipped off the tattered sneakers that he'd always refuse to replace.