Paths of Victory

Summer 2021, Week 4, Thursday evening

Randolph, City Centre

Storyteller

The City was a bit rumbly tonight. Friday was close at hand, and the people seemed ready to do something. Whether that was partying to forget the last weekend, or protest to remind everyone of what happened was anyone's guess. Likely both. Still the sounds of the night reached the top of the United East Bank Headquarters Building in Randolph where the man sat on the ledge. People leaving work late from the governmental buildings on their cellphones, talking about their long week and hours. Going about their lives. Wearing his jeans and a plain black t-shirt--all he had on hand at the hospital, Andre looked out over the city as his thoughts raced.  

DeAndre Walker (Victory)

It was exactly difficult to leave the hospital after he woke up. He had even waited two more days since Tuesday to allow his body time to recover more. That was an easy call since he didn't exactly remember Tuesday, and Wednesday was still hazy at certain parts. He knew Sloane had been there to talk to him. And others...those memories would come back. Hopefully when he headed back to the hospital in a little bit. This was just him 'getting some air' as he told the night duty nurse. He could still make out the hospital from where he sat, less than a minute away flying at a reasonable speed. He just had to escape the smell. That clean, disinfected smell. And you needed to get away from the stares. So many stares since he woke up. Filled with concern, pride, hatred. They varied depending on who it was. And all of them made his gut growl.   Clenching his fist, he heard the knuckles crack. The twinge up his left arm caused him to stop and look at the scarred extremity. Raised skin ran along it in a random pattern. A lightning scar they told him. Well there was actually a longer name that started with an L he recalled, but he couldn't recall the term. Tracing his finger up the flesh he ran from his ring finger, over his forearm, up his tricep, where it vanished under the shirt. But he knew it went all the way to his collarbone. I guess I'm not invulnerable. Just like Titan said.   Memories flashed through his mind. The fight--battle they were calling it. The wounded officers he ferried down from upstairs. The pain in their eyes. The same hatred in some of them even as he carried them in his arms. Can you blame them? Then there was Bolt. He was so close. So damn close. If he had just connected he could have ended it all right there. If you had handled it--if you had been able to handle it--none of this would have happened. Titan could have handled it. Bash through the doors, toss the other Evos out, pin Bolt down. Entire fight over. But Andre? Victory? Pfft. What Victory? All this death and destruction, you call that a victory?  

Storyteller

The cars drove by on the streets, their headlights and brakelights painting a strange picture of moving streams of color. Andre let his eyes phase out and watched them for a while, finding that it got blurry after a while.  

DeAndre Walker (Victory)

Moving a hand to his eyes, he found it came back wet. His mind raced to identify why when it hit him like...well, like a bolt of lightning. He had never lost someone on a mission or assignment. Never. Injured? Sure, that was part of the job. But on the day people needed him, so many had died. When people needed him the most, he failed. Because you're too weak. Too slow. Too inexperienced. Too little of a hero. The pain coursed up his arm when he clenched his fist again, but he ignored it. He felt the pain build up. It pushed against his walls, cracking them, until it exploded like a shattering dam. "AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!"  

Storyteller

People would look up at the building to find the source of the noise, but they wouldn't see anything. The man was gone, high in the sky before returning to the roof of the hospital. Body, mind, and soul tired from the wave of emotion. But a plan beginning to form.