I have never felt an aura like that before.
At that moment, we were in the middle of a press conference where Governor Diddlecrook was announcing the results of his security strategy. But my team and I felt how Dark's aura, though far away, was growing stronger every second until it suddenly transformed into something else entirely. My whole body began to tremble and covered me in cold sweat. Dark's power had never been anywhere close to the one we were feeling, not even when he stole the XyzqvqzyX armor.
Although this aura, in addition to the usual hatred, was filled with sadness and pain.
I looked at my team and did everything I could to not tremble in front of them.
"It's ok," I whispered, and I think that's the biggest lie I've ever told in my life.
"As you can see, Saint Money has never been safer," Governor Diddlecrook continued with his speech, and beside him was General Tantrum, our boss, who looked at me calmly and lowered his hand to tell me to calm down. He knew what I was thinking, and he'd probably try to stop me the moment I got up from my chair. Despite his age, he was still very strong, and he wouldn't let me or my team leave in the middle of Diddlecrook's press conference; to do so would mean something extremely wrong bad had happened and it needed our immediate attention; therefore, Saint Money wasn't as safe as Diddlecrook claimed.
At that moment, my team and I could only wait for the governor to finish.
"With Dark behind bars, it wasn't hard for us to dismantle Death." Everyone in the police force knew that Dark had escaped from prison a long time ago, but that never came to light. Besides, after months of not hearing from him, we thought he was dead. "Thanks to Herobert and his team's work," Diddlecrook gestured toward my team and me. The press turned to us and took some pictures; we had no choice but to wave and smile as if Dark wasn't destroying the city at that very moment. "We've captured several strategic Death leaders." Here, Diddlecrook showed pictures of captured criminals that I didn't recognize. We hadn't captured any of the people in the photos. Although that didn't surprise me: the government often captured low-level gang members and presented them to the press as important leaders to give the impression that they were doing a better job than they actually were.
I even wonder sometimes if those people were gang members in the first place. It's a shame, but despite being the hero, I had absolutely no importance or influence over the police's decisions and strategies.
"From sunrise, we work tirelessly to ensure Saint Money's safety," the governor said, seemingly oblivious to what was happening. Meanwhile, I watched him, hoping he would speak faster or that his team would take out a slide or two from the conference—anything to make it end sooner, even by just a minute.
Or even a second.
When I was first named a Hero, I discovered a safe house where some gang members were holding several teens, no older than twenty, captive. It was a house like any other, in the middle of a well-known neighborhood, but from a distance I could sense several auras gathered inside, slowly vanishing. I went in without thinking and was immediately met with a stench of blood, urine, excrement, burnt flesh, and garbage. Despite the loud music, I managed to hear screams and laughter coming from the second floor.
Curtains covered all the windows, so light only entered through the door I had just opened. The stairs were at the end of the hall, so I ran toward them, and the further I went, the stronger the stench became. I crossed a hallway in complete darkness, guided only by the auras I could barely sense anymore, and entered the room where they were all gathered. There, a couple of young people were laughing as they pulled a knife from someone's eye, who was screaming and writhing in the chair to which he was tied. Blood and gelatinous fragments of eye oozed from the now empty socket.
I was too late.
I immediately created bubble-shaped shields that covered the heads of these two torturers, who turned toward me and realized how little air was inside the bubbles. They dropped their knives and tried to break free, but I rushed toward them, created shields to cover both my hands, and punched one of them in the guts, forcing him to release what little air he had left in his lungs. He fell to the ground. The other raised his hands to surrender, but I still punched him in the same way.
Once they were both on the ground, I pounced on them and kept hitting them until they both lost consciousness. Those poor kids barely defended themselves. In the end, I left them as wounded and bloodied as those they had been torturing.
Such unnecessary violence.
I looked at them for a moment. They were pale and very thin; moreover, judging by their vacant, reddish eyes, they must have been high.
Disgusted with myself and still annoyed at being too late, I went to the poor kid who had lost his eye. He and the other nine kidnapped were naked and tied to chairs. Some were missing fingernails, fingers, eyes, genitals, and even entire limbs; they had bruises and cuts all over their bodies, although some of their wounds were already beginning to heal, which meant they had been tortured for several days.
They were all pale from anemia and blood loss, blood that covered them, the walls and the floor, where it mixed with urine, excrement, torture tools (pliers, screwdrivers, hammers, knives, car batteries, wet rags to simulate drowning) and pieces of skin and bone.
I freed them one by one and called for backup. Three of them, including the one who had lost his eye, tried to escape the moment I untied their hands and legs, but they were too weak and injured to take more than a few steps without falling. Of the rest, a couple thanked me and remained seated, just as I told them to.
And the other five were already dead. Despite their wounds and the blood covering them, they seemed peaceful, as if they might wake up at any moment. Three of them already showed signs of rigor mortis, meaning they had died several hours earlier.
But the other two had recently died. Perhaps if I had come a minute, a second earlier, at least one of them would have survived.
Backup and an ambulance soon come to check the others. After the paramedics took them away, a group of police officers and I searched the building. On the first floor, we found a room with wrecked furniture and covered in trash, from piles of used syringes to bags with the old logo of a fast-food chain. That gang must have used that safe house for several years. Obviously, we also found rats, cockroaches, and even a raccoon. The walls were covered in black mold, and the paint was peeling off in chunks.
We also found shoes, IDs, and other personal belongings. Some were completely covered in dust, so we called in a forensic team to investigate the site; it was quite likely that several of the people who had disappeared in recent years had ended up tortured and murdered here.
I then reported my discovery to General Tantrum, but he not only almost fired me, he nearly arrested me because I entered that safe house without a warrant. In fact, just as I sensed the auras of the hostages, he sent me a message ordering me to immediately go to the other side of the city to escort a politician, but I disobeyed him.
Over time, I learned that he and practically all the high-ranking government officials were working with various gangs. Most likely, he sent me to the other side of the city at that precise moment so I wouldn't find that safe house and the gang members could torture those young men without anyone finding out. That would explain why he was so angry with me for arresting them, although to this day I don't understand why he forgave me at the last minute and only gave me a warning: if I disobeyed him again, being fired would be the least of my problems.
But, despite the corruption of the higher-ups, I have been able to help many people as the Hero, something I couldn't do in any other job.
Although I have also failed many others.
"Bert," Heartrice said, touching my shoulder. "It's over. Relax," she said gently, and I noticed my fists were clenched so tightly that my nails dug into my palms. I opened my hands and they hurt quite a bit. My palms were bleeding slightly.
Heartrice was part of my hero team, and I recruited her because she was an amazing specialist in healing magic, as well as one of the most powerful and intelligent people I had ever met.
But the public only knew her for the cleavage and miniskirt that our PR team forced her to wear.
I looked around. The press was applauding Governor Diddlecrook as he thanked them and left surrounded by his bodyguards. General Tantrum rose from his seat and walked toward us, but before he reached us, some reporters surrounded us and blocked his path.
"Herobert, what do you think about the rumors that Dark escaped from prison months ago and you're all hiding it from us?"
"Heartrice, when are you going to open your OnlyClans? Will you finally tell us if you and Herobert in a relationship?"
She smiled irritably—they always asked us that last question.
"Perhaps we'll surprise them in the near future," she replied that way just because our PR team had asked us never to deny these rumors.
"We can assure you that Saint Money is experiencing a period of peace and security like no other," I said, repeating what our PR team had asked me to tell the reporters. "Everything is fine and it's going to get even better. Excuse me."
We left the reporters behind and met with General Tantrum. We moved a little way away from the media so they wouldn't hear us.
"Dark is in a subdivision called Oligarchs, hurry the fuck up," he told us and left. We left the place and gathered around Brainard, who was the smartest member of the team and specialized in tactical spells, like teleportation.
We hugged each other over the shoulder to make it easier for him to teleport us all at the same time.
"I already told you not to touch me," Brainard said as he gathered enough energy to teleport us all away.
Heartrice hugged him a little tighter just to annoy him. The rest of us smiled.
"We'll probably die," Brainard said, and Heartrice pushed him a little bit.
Toffson, the biggest, strongest, and quietest member of our team, slapped him on the back of the neck so hard that he almost knocked him to the ground.
"You're just saying that because you don't want to work anymore," said Lancel, the most promising member of them all despite being the youngest. He will be a great Hero in the future.
Although he is as violent as I was at his age.
"And Tantrum would even pull us out of hell so we could keep working for him," Lancel continued, and we all laughed.
Seconds passed by, and our smiles faded. We could still feel Dark's immense power, even though the Oligarchs subdivision, where he was located, was on the city's outskirts, several miles away.
"We have always beaten Dark. Always. I've even lost count of how many times we've beaten him," I said, trying to make them forget their fear for a second.
"I'm ready," said Brainard, having gathered enough power to teleport us all.
"Let's go," I said, and Brainard teleported us.
We instantly appeared in a gated subdivision where Dark's aura was so powerful and dense that I could barely breathe. I fell to my knees and, with my hands on the floor, began to gasp for breath. The pain and sadness emanating from that aura were unbearable. Cold sweat and constant fear coursed through my body. The stench of plastic and burned people was overwhelming.
I stood up as quickly as I could and looked around. In front of us was a huge mansion. The garage was open and half-destroyed; inside was a SUV covered with bullet holes. Around it lay the mangled corpses of about fifteen people and several high-caliber weapons. The floor was covered with arterial blood—red, bright, and full of oxygen.
Behind us were several destroyed SUVs, more corpses, and more blood scattered all over the ground.
I looked up. Houses were ablaze, and higher up, despite it still being very early in the day, the sky was covered with dark clouds from which lightning flashed constantly. Its thunder could be heard everywhere, as could car alarms and police sirens.
But there was no noise from people.
Despite the situation, no one was screaming, no one was running, no one was calling for help. It was a very large subdivision; there must have been a lot of people there.
Perhaps they were hiding from Dark, whose aura was so dense that we couldn't sense any other, not even our own.
Or perhaps we were too late.