The hospital room remained quiet.
Everyone listened.
Because now they were approaching the real reason.
The reason Kirran had risked everything.
The reason he couldn’t simply walk away.
The reason he refused to let the truth stay buried.
“It wasn’t just Mach.” Kirran stared toward the window.
Lost in old memories.
“It wasn’t just my friends.” “It wasn’t just my family.” His eyes softened.
“It was them.” Nobody needed clarification.
Everyone knew who he meant.
The Wheelers.
“I remember the first time I saw them.” A smile appeared.
Small.
Nostalgic.
Real.
“They were rescuing people from a burning apartment building.” “I must’ve watched that broadcast twenty times.” Back then— The Wheelers seemed impossible.
They flew.
They fought criminals.
They saved lives.
They appeared fearless.
Confident.
Powerful.
Everything Kirran wasn’t.
At least that’s how it felt.
“They looked like superheroes.” Mach tilted his head.
“Technically they are superheroes.” “You know what I mean.” “I do.” “They made it seem like anything was possible.” The memory lingered.
Because for a young boy who often felt trapped— Watching people like him soar across the sky had meant everything.
The broadcasts weren’t the only thing.
There were interviews.
Fundraisers.
Hospital visits.
Public appearances.
Everywhere Kirran looked— The Wheelers were there.
Helping.
Smiling.
Inspiring.
Or at least— That was what it looked like.
“I wanted to be like them.” The admission came quietly.
Almost embarrassed.
“I know it sounds childish.” “It doesn’t.” Suzanne answered immediately.
“It sounds human.” Kirran smiled.
“Maybe.” “But they gave me something to aim for.” Something beyond survival.
Beyond merely existing.
Beyond getting through another day.
They gave him a future.
Or at least the idea of one.
The years passed.
School became easier.
College followed.
Then university.
Then teaching.
The dream changed.
Evolved.
Matured.
Kirran never became a superhero.
But that wasn’t the point.
“They inspired me to help people.” His voice remained calm.
Certain.
“Not by flying around.” “Not by fighting criminals.” “But by teaching.” By helping students.
By helping families.
By helping kids who felt alone.
Kids who felt different.
Kids who needed somebody to believe in them.
Just like he once had.
Raymond smiled.
Because he had seen it.
Every day.
The way students responded to Kirran.
The way parents trusted him.
The way children looked forward to his classes.
“You became pretty good at it.” Kirran laughed.
“Don’t tell my students that.” “I think they already know.” Gear nodded.
“Unfortunately.” “Thanks, Gear.” “You’re welcome.” The room shared a brief laugh.
A small one.
But it helped.
Because everyone knew what came next.
The part that hurt.
The smile disappeared.
The memory shifted.
A warehouse.
A broken window.
Weapons.
Belizaire.
The Savant’s people.
And the Wheelers.
Not rescuing anyone.
Not helping anyone.
Not inspiring anyone.
Just standing there.
Making deals.
Working with criminals.
Watching people die.
Kirran’s hands tightened around the blanket.
“I kept telling myself there had to be an explanation.” The words came quietly.
Painfully.
“I kept hoping I misunderstood.” Nobody interrupted.
Nobody could.
Because everyone knew he hadn’t misunderstood anything.
“I wanted it to be a mistake.” His voice cracked.
Just slightly.
“But it wasn’t.” The room fell silent.
Again.
A different kind of silence this time.
A sad one.
Because everyone understood.
The truth wasn’t that the Wheelers had attacked him.
The truth wasn’t that they had chased him.
The truth wasn’t even that they worked for criminals.
The truth was that they had been heroes once.
At least in Kirran’s mind.
And watching that illusion break had hurt more than any injury.
More than the crash.
More than the fall.
More than the hospital bed.
Suzanne finally spoke.
Softly.
Gently.
“I think I understand now.” Kirran looked toward her.
His mother smiled sadly.
“You’re not doing this because you’re angry.” Kirran nodded.
“No.” “Then why are you doing it?” He looked toward Mach.
Toward Gear.
Toward Raymond.
Then out the window.
Toward Citron City.
And answered with complete certainty.
“Because somebody has to.”