Hero

Awakenings

I jolted into consciousness suddenly, a headache striking me like a matchbox. Half of my face was sore from leaning against a window through the night.
"Get the hell up, kid," Cain yelled from the doorway.
"I thought I would've woken up from this nightmare already," I mumbled. Cain didn't appear amused by my antics. I stood up, stretched, and rubbed my sore face.
"C'mon. Sariel's got coffee brewing and I want ya to meet the other guy." Before I could ask anything, Cain turned tail and headed out into the hall.
I stared out the window briefly, the decayed subsection of Lifeshire was a hazy reminder that I'd never see my own place again. I straightened out my jacket and headed out into the hall.
I'd barely paced a few steps before Sariel jumped in front of me, giving me a slight panic.
"Good day, Pan!" She was more chipper than the day before, fortunately.
"Hey what's up, Sariel?"
"Don't be alarmed," she started, twirling her finger around a vine that fell near her face, "but Daske is here and said he'd take you to get evaluated today."
"Evaluated? Was yesterday's case not that?"
"Nope!" And with that she ran off, right into the kitchen area. I followed after her slowly, my mind racing with scenarios of how to break out of this mess still. Just a second later I halted, the invasive thought of bolting out now giving me a rush of adrenaline.
None of them would think I actually left for a good while, maybe instead assume I went to get some air or something. It was now or never, and I was willing to take my chances.
No one was near the stairwell that I could see or hear, though the pounding of my chest may have been blocking some of my senses.
Carefully I maneuvered over to the stairs, concentrating on the thought of being invisible again to help disguise me. By the time I'd reached the end of the stairwell, my hands had vanished from sight. I placed them to the blocking door and they slipped through effortlessly.
'Oh, well this will come in handy,' I thought as I passed through the door without hesitation, my body dissipating through like steam to the other side. I took a quick glance in all directions before bolting for the exit.
Then I was there, out in the open. I smiled excitedly, too nervous to be vocal. I took two steps forward and hit what felt like a brick wall.
"So eager to be evaluated, Peter?" A dark voice surrounded me and I couldn't place the source.
"My name isn't fucking Peter," I said through a clenched jaw. Few things could set me off as much as people thinking it was a fun joke to call me Peter. I'd grown up around those childish verbal prods and beat the heck out of every last person who teased me with it.
"Sure it is, Peter. Peter Pan, right? When are you going to fly for us? Do you need some pixie dust?" Again the voice came from every direction, a taunting echo that made my blood boil. My hands curled into tight, white-knuckled fists and my invisibility suddenly fell off as if by force. It felt like my body was on fire and burned up the safety blanket I'd used to sneak out.
"I thought you were a Ghost-type," the voice continued, now drawing from directly behind me. I took the opportunity to strike, whipping behind me with a flaming fist aimed hopefully for a face. I yelled out in pain as my knuckles impacted steel plated armor instead.
"I think you probably just, ya know, broke your hand," the man grinned. I looked up at him a moment. My vision was wavering clarity, and there was little I could see aside from what appeared to be two wings arched behind him; one black, bat-like wing and the other a feathery snow white.
I smelled something terrible then, a scent that disgustingly reminded me of burning meat. I took a regretful step backwards which led to a sudden blackout.
I thought I'd died and somehow ended up in the 'better place.'
I was back in my own apartment, waking up on my worn couch. My floor fan hummed continuously, which usually bugged me but I felt a comfort in hearing it now. I sat up, stretched, and looked around. Maybe it was a dream, but maybe being a selected Hero was a dream too, albeit a nightmare. I got up and went behind the couch, towards the window where late afternoon skies warmed me. The city was busy as normal; cars stuck in traffic and people walking hastily with phones in their hands.
I shoved my hands into my pockets, heart skipping as I withdrew my cellphone. If this was real, I could call her now, tell her all the things I was too nervous to say til now. I'd ask her to move in and we'd get married, we'd—
An unknown call cut me off. It buzzed in my hand once, then twice. I clicked to answer it, bringing my phone to my ear.
"Wake up."
And suddenly my eyes opened in reality, a painfully sharp gasp for air made me choke into a panic.
"Hey now, relax," another voice soothed. After several coughs and a glass of water, I'd finally resolved enough to look up. An obvious physician grinned at me with half opened eyes. A long scar cut down the middle of his face, perfectly symmetrical from the middle of his forehead down to his chin. It felt impossible not to stare so I redirected my attention to the other person next to me, a heavily armored soldier-looking man with one large bat wing and the other a feathered white. Long teal hair fell around him like water.
"I didn't get to introduce myself earlier, since you decided to burn up on me," he laughed, "I'm Daske though. I will be mentoring you today, after we figure out why you have more than one type."
"Huh?" Pain flooded into my hand once I remembered what happened, but when I looked down at it there was nothing visibly wrong. "My hand feels like it's burning internally," I stated, my voice hoarse.
"That's because you're a bit of a Pyro-type. It makes your blood literally feel like it's boiling," the physician lulled as he clasped my hand with both of his. My other hand trembled slightly, the glass in my hand shaking. Daske took it from me and set it aside, causing me to jump slightly. The physician looked up at me, and I swallowed hard as I realized both of his eyes were pitch black; sclera and all. His pupils were a glowing red that instantly reminded me of the Nox.
"You're one of those things," I said harshly, taking my hand away from his quickly. He grinned at me again, and for a moment I assumed he'd kill me in that instant.
"Well, not entirely. I'm in between, I suppose you could say. I lost my normal eyes to a Blight."
"I think Cain calls them Villains still," Daske interluded slightly, "in our textbooks we call them Blights. It's just an umbrella term."
"Ah, yes. Cain's been around a long time so he's got some outdated terminology. Oh, excuse me for not introducing myself! I have terrible bedside manners. I am Yusuke," he held his hand out to me, recoiling it with a whimsy when I didn't take it. "That's fair. You're still quite new I assume, so all of, well everything must be quite a shock still."
I felt a headache brewing from how tightly I was clenching my jaw shut. There was no place to run to, and all I wanted was to go back into my dream, where this reality ceased to exist.
I felt anger overwhelming me. I was angry at myself for existing. Angry at Cain, for getting terminally injured and making me work to replace him while he gets all his memories back in retirement.
I unclenched my jaw slightly to speak.
"I want to know how to quit," I stated simply. Yusuke glanced up at Daske briefly before locking those red pupils on me.
"There is no quitting, unless you get hurt. If you get hurt real bad, you have to be replaced before you... ya know."
"Is Cain going to die if I can't replace him properly?" Yusuke laughed soundly at my question.
"Of course not, Heroes can't just die. However," Yusuke's expression turned grim, "Heroes who get hurt and don't get properly replaced, end up as Blights."
I felt physical pain in my chest. I was so angry at everything and everyone, but the thought of Cain turning into something like that Nox broke something in me. I dropped my head into my palms, and felt my entire body burn.