Looking For Group

Part 22

As an amnesiac with severe physical trauma and no parental help to rely on, Wild lived in the economy side of the college town. He had a small simple apartment in a building with two hundred other tenants. Twilight had only been here once before, just to confirm this was where Wild lived.

The kid didn't know he and the other Heroes tracked down his address after his reveal.

By the time Twilight got to the building, the sun had fully set. The street lamps were on and local children had gone inside for dinner. There was a fence circling the area and Twilight didn't have access codes for the gate. He could wait for someone to let him in, maybe get permission by the landlord. He chose to hop the fence.

Inside the building smelled of laundry detergent and old cigarette smoke. The muffled noise of televisions could be heard through closed apartment doors. Twilight climbed the stairs, looking and listening for any signs of trouble. So far everything looked normal. When he got to the fourth floor, that's when he started hearing all the voices.

"Open up, man! We just wanna talk!"

"Is what they're saying true? Just tell us!"

"How'd you do it? I gave them twenty rupees and they never even call me!"

There were at least a dozen or more people gathered in the hallway, banging on Wild's door. Many of them had their phones out, recording everything. They were taking pictures, slipping notes underneath his door, cupping their hands over their mouths and calling out for him to come out and talk to them.

One of them noticed Twilight. "Hey look, it's a Hero!"

Like a hoard of zombies who found their next meal, all of them turned towards him at once. They rushed over, several phones shoved into his face, demanding answers.

"Is it true what they're saying? Did you make a barista a Hero because he provides free food?"

"Did the new Hero get his scars from training?"

"Why are there no women Heroes? Are you all sexist?"

Twilight stood there, his mouth curved into a deep frown as the phones pressed even closer, one was even poking at his chin. He didn't have time for this bullshit.

He snatched the closest phone out of one guy's hand, held it up for everyone to see, and crushed it like it was gingerbread. He let go, shards of plastic hitting the ground.

The owner squealed. He went down on his knees, trying to salvage the pieces. "You asshole! That was an eight hundred rupee phone!"

"Bill me," said Twilight, moving past. The sight of a Hero crushing a phone with a single hand had the rest of the would-be reporters scrambling away, tucking their phones in close protectively.

Twilight pounded on Wild's door. "Kid, it's me! Open up!"

The door opened. A hand reached out, grabbed Twilight by the front of his shirt, and hauled him in.

"Thank the goddess you're here!" Wild said, slamming the door shut. "I've been getting harassed all day over this! My email inbox is insane, I had to turn off my phone because it was ringing non-stop, and I had to leave work through the backdoor! They tried to follow me home!"

Twilight took a good look around Wild's apartment. It was a small, simple thing. Humble someone might say. Cramped others would too. Wild had a television set the size of a cardboard box. A small stack of DVDs from the library were seated next to it, and a well worn purple couch finished off the look. In one corner was a laundry basket half-full. There were no photos on the wall. The kitchen was the only place that held any personality. He had three large cookbooks bookmarked with different colored tags, several comical aprons hanging on a wall hook, and his fridge was covered in magnetic letters spelling out POOP. It appeared Wild lived alone.