I Gave My Sweat
You'd think, with me being a hero and all, that I'd have some kind of superpower just waiting to come out, right?
Well, I don't have any. Nobody has any. Superpowers aren't real, everybody knows that, but still the majority expects you to have some before they can call you a superhero.
And that's just it: I'm not a superhero. I'm a hero, without all the super. I make do with the limits of the human race and even bearing those limits, somehow manage to save people's lives. Doesn't that make a simple hero more heroic than a superhero, who didn't have to shed blood, sweat and tears to get stronger and be able to mean something to the world?
"What keeps me going in this rotten world?" A question, not necessarily politely formulated or particularly important, which I asked myself to pass the time while I was on my way to the old mansion.
"Maybe it's the beauty of nature?" But looking at the skyscrapers towering over me, I shook my head.
"It could be friendship?" But right as I uttered those words, I reminded myself I had no friends to speak of.
"Maybe I live for what the future may hold?" But that thought just made me depressed altogether.
I passed by a young couple making out at a bus stop. I laughed bitterly: "Yeah, it definitely isn't love."
When I finally reached the mansion, I still hadn't found an answer, but I didn't care. I moved into the alley beside the mansion and threw off the cloak that was covering me, revealing the Nakarmor I was wearing.
"Time to start this party, I guess."
Without wasting any time, I jumped on the wall of the mansion, only to spring off that wall to reach the one opposite to it, belonging to another big house. I believe that in video game terms, this motion is better known as a wall jump. After jumping from one wall to the other about five times - Don't try that at home - I finally reached one of the mansion's windows. With one press of the left T-trigger a Trix-blade came out, shattering the window into a million pieces.
Thinking about it, isn't it a common trope that heroes live in some kind of mansion, are filthy rich and their parents tragically died in a car crash? Yeah, that sounds about right. Though I'd like to say I'm rich, that would be a lie. And the mansion I'm invading isn't mine but belongs to a notorious gang. The rapist I killed yesterday had the location of their hideout neatly written on a paper, so I decided to come take a look. As for dead parents, don't got those either, though my parents are dead to me in another way.
As I landed inside the mansion, my eyes quickly darted around the long hall I found myself in. As my right Trix-blade came out, three guys emerged from one of the doors that I saw before me. 'Bandits' is the word I would use to describe them. I dashed forward, ready to deliver cold, bloody justice.
The first one didn't put up much of a fight as my blade buried itself in his stomach and I ripped it open. Kind of gross, I have to admit, but I've gotten used to stuff like that. The two others swiftly jumped away from me, taking out their guns. As their bullets rebounded of my armour I jumped after the first one, hitting him in the head. The other bandit was already screaming his lungs out, but that screaming was quickly cut short, literally. I spun around and with one last slash I killed the fourth bandit, who had hidden himself and then snuck up behind me with a knife.
"Heh, sorry, but you'll have to do a lot better if you want to stab me in the back." I said with a grin on my face while his body fell to the ground.
After this little warm-up I felt that my spirit had awoken inside and I started rushing from one hall to the next. Some would get splattered with blood, others remained as empty as I found them.
Maybe people think I'm some sort of demon, ending lives like this without even looking back or feeling some kind of guilt, sadness... anything. But every last one of these guys has killed countless of people before. They didn't look back and feel guilty or sad. So why should I hold those feelings towards their deaths? They didn't deserve to be left alive in the first place.
"Let's finish the job, I guess." I said casually, standing before the two big doors behind which the leader of this gang probably resided. I cut the door open with a swift cross slash and rammed through it afterwards.
"W-wuh, what?! Who dares to-"
Seeing that piece of trash sitting in a couch as if it were his throne got my blood boiling and my ears immediately cancelled out anything he said. His little underlings started shooting at me, but that wouldn't stop me. Nothing would stop me. I quickly jumped over the table that stood between me and the gang leader and I pulled my arm back, ready to strike.
At that moment, the death of this man was already written in stone.
Fate could not be rewritten anymore.
Nothing could alter hi- "Huh?"
He might be a piece of trash, but the man was right. 'Huh?' was the only appropriate reaction.
Because I hung there, my arm still pulled back and ready. I hung motionlessly in mid-air.
"What the heck is happening?!"
The gang leader tried to run away while he still could, but was pulled up in the air along with me by some invisible force. In fact, everyone in the room was now floating above the ground. But it didn't stop there.
I looked out one of the windows in the chamber and had to do my best not to shout in surprise.
"Th-the house is flying!" one of the bandits shouted, his voice trembling with fear. Instantly after he shouted that, as if on cue, everyone was pulled out of the flying mansion by the invisible force that was sending us and the building skywards. Even all the dead bodies I had left behind where transported outside. I looked around for a possible source of all these bizarre events and to my own surprise I found one rather quickly: a young boy, probably around my age, was floating directly under us. He was wearing some kind of green cape and had long brown hair he wore in a small ponytail. When he suddenly clenched his fist, the mansion broke down as if it was a piece of paper being crumpled by a gigantic hand.
It's at that moment that the answer to my prior question came to me.
What kept me going in this rotten world, all this time?
"I kept going... Because I felt like I was needed."