Marcel leans back in his office chair at Hero Corp HQ. He'd retired as the head of Shepard's Court nearly two years ago after running it for twenty years. He is faintly illuminated by the soft glow of a candle. The sun went down half an hour ago, and the city is now dark, except for the distant spots of candles being carried by the citizens walking around. Twenty-three years ago, the Apotheosis Reactor was taken by Lahmi, and a failed attempt to reclaim it left the city weakened and desperate. Over time, people learned to live without their electrical comforts. A lot of businesses went under, of course; unable to operate without power. But new ones took their place. Legislation on hero work changed to reflect the city's lack of heroes. Those without the qualification suddenly found themselves getting fast tracked into newly created and city-run programs. Although, lacking the gifts necessary to fight, they tended to be support roles. Marcel looks over the paperwork on his desk. He had been the one to push for these programs; at the behest of the Nameless Lord. His relationship with the voice had grown over the years. While he still doesn't understand it, he has learned enough to trust it completely.
There's a knock on his door, his secretary. "Come in."
"Director, it's time."
"Thank you." Marcel says, standing up. He is wearing a full set of steel armor, carrying his sword, a steel stave, and his sling. He hopes there will be no battle today, but no matter what, he refuses to leave empty handed.
Walking out of Hero Corp HQ, he steps into a transport. Today is the day. Looking out the window, Marcel spots the hundreds of other transports, stretching along the roads and at the base of the walls of the city. Every hero that joined in the last twenty years is waiting for his orders, nearly thirty-thousand heroes total. And all of them are ready to move.
Marcel picks up the radio, "This is the Director of Military Affairs, Marcel David. We are beginning operation Reclamation. You all know what to do. Begin." With that go-ahead, every engine revs up and heads for the city's gates. A coordinated effort for the last several weeks had cleared out every monster within two miles of the city, allowing an operation of this scale. Within six hours, Abinadab is surrounded.
The heroes all clearly hear the sounds of chaos inside the walls. Marcel steps forward, and demands to speak with their leadership. A few minutes later, several men step into view from atop Abinadab's makeshift walls.
"What do you want? Why have you come here?" One man asks.
"I am Marcel David, the Director of Military Affairs of the city of Prosperity. You have our reactor. We've come to take it back." The men glance between one another, speaking quietly.
"What will you give us in return?"
Annoyed, already not being a man of too much mercy, and severely lacking in patience from twenty years of having to watch his city struggle to survive because of his mistake, Marcel says, "We'll let you live." The three men look indignant… and then they look at the army of people that outnumber them ten-to-one.
An hour later, the A.R.K is loaded into a wagon, ready to be pulled slowly back to the city. The technicians immediately get to work, tending to the reactor. Marcel, wanting to help, tries to enter the reactor's main housing. Before he can so much as touch the door, however, he sees a vision of four things, one after the other. The first thing he sees are words written in fire. Next are flowers blooming. Then birds with beaks filled with bread. And finally, a dead man's bones. After the vision fades, Marcel feels the overwhelming sensation that he is being watched from within the reactor, and shudders. As soon as the feeling leaves him, the voice speaks two, very tense, but simple words, "Do not." Marcel removes his hand from the door without another word.
The bulk of the city's forces return before the reactor every arrives. They start moving at a safe pace, but one of the wheels of the wagon comes off, and the already temperamental reactor surges. A bolt of energy shoots from the reactor, engulfing the transport pulling it, and killing the driver in an instant.
"Stop! Stop!" Somone calls out, and the whole battalion of heroes responsible for the secure transport are halted.
"What's going on?" Marcel asks, stepping off his transport.
"Director David, the A.R.K. is too unstable to move. We need to hold for the time being, make repairs, and preparations." A technician says.
"Okay, fine. How long? A day?" Marcel asks.
"Sir, this isn't some simple engine like in a transport. We don't really understand it at all. Most of us are barely qualified to even go near it. Al least compared to the original designers."
"How long then? A week?"
"Months, at least, sir." The man says.
Marcel looks up to the sky, that pink and gold sunrise long since changed to blue skies. He takes a breath. "I waited twenty years. Three months… fine. Let's do this right. No more mistakes."
Seventy years later, a young boy walks into a brightly lit museum; the Hall of Heroes. Actually, it was a legacy rebuild, after the original had been destroyed during the Dark Decades when his grandparents were young. He walks around the entrance, looking for the front desk. Finding it, he spots an elderly man with wrinkled fingers and wearing a sharp tweed suit.
"Hello sonny, here for a tour?"
"Yes sir." The boy, at most ten years old, says.
The man smiles, "Good, I was just about to begin. You're the only one on the schedule. How about an extra special tour, no extra charge? Not just the facts, but I'll even throw in the cool stuff most people don't know about."
"Really?"
"Sure, come on." The man stands up, and makes a motion for the boy to follow him. "What's your name?"
"Jerry Boam."
"Good to meet you, Jerry."
The man walks around, telling the boy about the heroes of the hall. He shows him the statue of the three cardinals, the monument of the ages, the room of portraits and paintings. And then he comes to the latest exhibit. Built to commemorate the hero Marcel David. The man gets a far away look in his eye. With everything else, it felt like he was reciting a script. But now, standing in front of a statue of Marcel and his most trusted sidekicks, he speaks with more emotion. Like he is remembering better times.
"This is the Marcel David exhibit. He served as the Director of Military Affairs for fifty years. Becoming known as one of the greatest heroes, not only of his generation, but in the city's history. But you know… I don't think that's very true."
"What? Why not?" The boy asks, confused. He knew who Marcel was. Everyone did. He was the hero who ended the Dark Decades, who won the war against the monster hordes nearly one-hundred years ago, and who pushed for new laws to make the city fairer and safer. Everyone knew how incredible he was.
The man shakes his head, looking down at the youngster. He takes a deep breath. "You've probably heard the stories. But let me tell you a new one. A story of a boy, chosen for greatness. A story of loss, failure, and mistakes. The story of someone who was supposed to be the next best hero."
The end.