The sky glowed silver, gold, and a dozen other colors beneath the light spilling from the enormous HBM tower.
Central Mayvel wasn’t another district. It was the heart of the hero business.
The plaza was buzzing. People taking pictures with the hero statues planted on the outside of the building. The statues lined the front steps, bigger than they needed to be.
A young woman had found the newest one. Flamebird, cast in silver, arms up.
She was pressed flat against it, black hair a mess, white top riding up her ribs. High heels, black shorts showing off her thighs.
"Holy shit, he has a dick." She squeezed herself against the statue, her hands going behind its neck.
"Okay, that’s actually fire." Her boyfriend crouched low with his phone. His hair was tinted gold, and he wore a blue-and-red Flamebird costume. "Done."
"Insane we finally got a big hero living in Mayvel."
She spun around and planted her ass against the statue’s thighs, bending forward with her chest out. Then she looked around the crowd to see who was watching.
Most people were. One guy wasn’t.
Across the pavement, Ren Moore stood with his phone to his ear, completely detached from the spectacle around him.
He was aggressively ordinary. The kind of face you forget while you’re still looking at it. Average build, dark hair that never sat right, plain features designed to be overlooked... or punched.
『Almost time. 』
He checked his watch, phone still against his ear.
11:59 PM.
A new day was only seconds away.
"I love you, Z."
He waited. A grin crept up, half nerves, half relief.
"No, I’m serious. I want us to be more..."
His eyes wandered across the plaza. Superheroes were printed across the glass of the HBM tower. Big billboards with Flamebird’s face. Most people moving around dressed in hero costumes.
"It’s fine." he added after a beat, forcing lightness. "Just... think about it."
He killed the call. Eighteen a few seconds ago.
『Told Izzy how I feel. One down. 』
A bag lay at his feet. He’d worked so hard to see get past security.
He picked it up and walked toward the golden statue in the middle of the plaza. The world’s most famous lost hero.
『Your night’s up, old man. 』
Ren remembered everything.
Red Balls.
Now that he’d disappeared, Ren had turned his hatred toward the entire system that had denied him justice.
He pulled a hammer from the bag.
『Worst case, I chip a toe. 』
He drew back.
A punch connected with his face before he could land the first hit, and he staggered to the ground.
Not security. A civilian who couldn’t stand the idea of a hero statue taking even a single scratch.
The world spun. Pain spread across his face. The hammer slipped from his hand and clattered onto the pavement.
Then came the shouting.
Hands grabbed him. Someone shoved him. Someone else dragged him back. The same crowd that had been cheering for the heroes moments ago spat him out like a virus.
No cops needed. The believers handled it.
***
Ren came to on the cold sidewalk outside the square, his jaw already swelling. His duffel bag had been tossed beside him. He pushed himself up and straightened his worn jacket.
『You literally cannot do shit to these people. 』
『Fuck. 』
He flagged down a cab.
The driver wore a faded Red Balls robe, the hood pushed back over a tired, middle-aged face.
Ren stared at him.
『Of course. Of fucking course. 』
"South Mayvel," he said, and got in.
He sank into the back seat.
The HBM tower slowly disappeared through the rear window. Heroes stared down from billboards. Heroes smiled from jerseys. Heroes grinned from the energy drink cans sitting in the cupholder.
To Ren, every last one was empty.
He just needed someone to listen.
***
Ren opened the door to his apartment. It was still a mess, exactly the way he’d left it.
A cardboard box of action figures lay tipped over on the floor. Superheroes were scattered everywhere. Most were missing an arm, a leg, or a head. Only Lady Vega stood perfectly intact in the middle of the pile.
That was how he tortured them. One broken piece at a time. On nights when he had nothing else to do.
The TV was still on in the corner, stuck on CCN. Some presenter kept talking in a boring voice about the hero industry.
"Fuck."
He kept his voice low even though he wanted to yell. The walls were thin.
『Another failure. 』
He dropped down onto his unmade bed. The sheets were twisted and old.
A woman moaned through the wall, followed by a man’s louder groan.
He couldn’t tell if it was the couple next door, the ones on the other side, or the pair five floors up. He’d stopped caring months ago.
He pulled his phone from his pocket and checked the screen. Somehow, it hadn’t cracked from the punch.
Not a single scratch. A new message sat at the top.
[HBD, Ren. Coming over tonight.] ~ Mila
『Not tonight. 』
He opened Inster. A message from the app itself was waiting for him.
[User suspended indefinitely. Reason: Hate posts against licensed heroes.]
"FUCK."
He shouted it this time and fell back against the mattress.
He stared up at the ceiling. The anger slowly burned down until all that remained were hot embers. He wasn’t exactly sad. It was just that same heavy feeling of knowing nothing was ever going to change.
『Not tonight. Not tomorrow. Not ever. 』
He closed his eyes.
A soft chime rang in his ear.
His eyes snapped open. Nothing there. Just the TV murmuring in the background.
He shut his eyes again.
[Hello, Ren Moore.]