Chapter One:

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The battlefield. That was where he made the difference. The United Alliance Military was being pushed back by the Zodiac Army, and they were mercilessly injuring the soldiers. However, no one had died yet. The Spectre was crouched behind the concrete wall, throwing his rifle aside as it was out of ammunition. "This is impossible!" hissed the Spectre's best friend as he ducked behind the wall, a fresh volley of bullets flying past. "Don't worry, I got your back," the Spectre replied, although he was unsure of how he would do that without a weapon. "And I got yours," replied the Spectre's friend, standing and firing from beside the wall. Dread was in the Spectre's stomach. Something was wrong. As he looked up, there was a splatter of blood, and his friend fell back, blood splattering the grey uniform as the Spectre stared in shock

***

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"Mommy, I'm scared," the little boy murmured, hiding behind his mother's leg as his father gripped his shoulder tightly. "It is alright, my little soldier. Just go in," his mother said warmly, crouching down beside the boy as he shrank back, staring at the primary school gates. "People will stare. People won't like me," the little boy stressed, trying to step back in the direction of the family car, but his father did not let him get that far. "So what if they stare? It does not mean anything, Zack. What if they don't like you? It doesn't matter. You are a Spectre. People will be amazed to see you." The little boy looked up at his father, quickly wiping the tears from his face and nodding. "You have your way with him, and I don't know-how," whispered Zack's mother. Just then, two older boys past the family of Spetres and did a double-take, "It's a stupid Spectre. I thought they all died," one whispered to the other, not quietly, and they both headed into the school, laughing. "Just ignore them, alright?" The boy, Zack, still kept a firm grip upon his father's hand. He did not want to go forward into the unknown. "Be strong," his mother whispered, and Zack shakily let go of his father's hand. "Always be strong," his father murmured, and Zack nodded, waiting for the redness in his eyes to fade before slowly trudging over to the front gates as a loud bell rang.

In the middle of the day, Zack needed to be picked up by his parents. The children inside had been more horrible than Zack imagined, and he was instantly bullied and beaten. He had a split lip and a black eye was already forming, and when he saw his mother, he leapt into her protective arms. "Shall we go to a nice café? Improve the mood?" Zack's father asked, and then Zack nodded, grateful for the opportunity of going to a café. So, that is exactly where they went. They drove for over twenty minutes before finally finding a café on the corner of their street, and once they sat at a table, the waitress took their orders and went to alert the chef. "So, what is it you ordered again?" Zack's father asked, and Zack grinned, "Waffles with Nutella and ice cream." Zack's dad chuckled, reaching forward to ruffle Zack's blue hair and then he held his wife's hand. "What happened at school today?" Zack's mother asked, and Zack looked down. "I saw six older boys attacking someone else. He might have been a bit older than I was. I tried to tell them to stop, and then they went after me."

Zack's mother sighed and stared at Zack with something like admiration in her eyes. "The fact that you tried to stop them was really brave," she whispered, and Zack laughed, suddenly feeling proud of himself. Zack's dad looked at the cashier at the main bar, sighed, and stood up. "I'm going to get myself a drink," Zack's mother nodded and also stood, "I'll go to the bathroom." Both parents left the table, and then the door to the café opened. Inside stepped the teenage boys, and they looked around, as though trying to figure out where would be an excellent place to sit. "Oh, look who it is, the little hero," one said mockingly, and the six of them sat at the table around Zack, smirks on their faces. "What will it be today? Water?" one asked as he reached for the plastic water jug on the table, and he threw the liquid over Zack, who shuddered against the cold.

"Something I can help you with?" Zack's father stood behind the boys, an unimpressed expression on his face. "Another Spectre. Your species is dying out, I'd be careful if I were you," said the closest of the six, snickering as he stood up. "I would rather not mess up this lovely café," Zack's father said, and one of the boys stepped forward, laughing, "Get the hell out of here, loser!" He shoved Zack's father, but the man grabbed the boy's wrist tightly, "You should leave." They all laughed, and Zack looked down. Now they were going to beat his father. The teenager suddenly struck with his left fist, but Zack's father, who was called Matthew, ducked under the fist and swept his leg along the ground, sending the boy spinning onto the hard ground. "Someone knows how to piss off the wrong people," said another teenager, and together they approached. Matthew dodged a punch, landed his elbow against one's chest, jumped up and kicked him in the face.

The teenage boy staggered backwards, and Matthew ducked under another punch, quickly stepping back as a teenager kicked through the air. He caught the fits of the teenager in front of him, kneed the boy on his right in the groin, shoved the teenager back and then elbowed the boy to his right in the chest. The teenager in front of Matthew glared as Matthew held his hands out before him, and he dashed to the left as the boy ran forward, using his foot to trip the teenager and sending him sprawling into several tables. The other customers and the chef and the waitress all watched, interested, as Matthew punched a teenage boy several in times in the stomach, grasped his arm, and then flipped him through the air. Matthew stood among the groaning bodies, smirking slightly. "I left for five minutes!" hissed Zack's mother, standing beside her husband and also gazing around at the destruction. "Maybe we should just take our good and drink, and get out of here," she whispered, and the waitress hurried forward.

"Those boys have been harassing our staff for weeks," she said lowly, "By regulation, we have to call the police, but we can give you roughly an hour head start." Matthew thanked the waitress, gave a fake name and address, and then took the food in boxes and then the drinks. The family hurried outside to their car, put everything inside, and then drove down toward their house. "You know I don't like it when you get into fights!" scolded Zack's mother, and Matthew went to argue back, but Zack didn't bother listening. He was amazed by the skills his father had! "When we get in, head on straight upstairs and into bed," said Zack's mother, and Zack nodded. The very second the car stopped inside their garage he was out the car, into the house, up the stairs and then shutting the door of his bedroom behind him.

The very next day, Zack came home on time after school. He was sure those boys would go after him again, but he barely even saw them in the hallways of the school. "How was your day?" Matthew asked as Zack's mother hugged Zack. "I didn't even see those boys today!" Zack exclaimed excitedly, and his father, Matthew, chuckled. "Matthew," Zack's mother said lowly, hitting Matthew on the arm, and Matthew laughed again. "Want to go to the park for a bit?" Zack's mother asked as they began making their way down the street toward their house, and Zack nodded in excitement. So, as they promised, they took Zack to the playground that was right next to their house. While Zack was playing amongst the plastic and metal, Matthew and his wife wrapped their arms around one another, watching as their son played.

Thunder clapped loudly, and droplets of rain began to drip downward. Crunch, crunch, crunch. The sound of something heavy smashing sticks and leaves made them both turn around. Someone stood before them, a black mask covering the lower half of their face, their brown hair coming down in strings down the side of their face. "Listen, you don't have to do this!" Zack heard his father's panicked voice, and he peered over the edge of the blue plastic just as two loud claps sounded. At first, he thought of thunder, but when he watched his parents fall backwards, red splattering the ground, he quickly ducked back behind the large, blue, plastic piece on the playground, remaining crouched as he felt the gaze of someone nearby. With unbelievable speed, sirens lit the darkening night as rain pounded down from the sky.

He saw someone running between trees, away from the three separate police cars that skidded to a halt beside the park, but Zack did not rise from behind the plastic. Fear kept him rooted to the spot, but not fear of being discovered. He was more afraid of what he wound find. Police officers seemed keen to search the trees first, and then, after several quiet minutes, two ambulances arrived. Zack did not watch as the paramedics carefully strapped his parents onto separate beds and then put them both in separate ambulances. Then they were gone too, only the four police officers remained. One of them decided to head up the slippery metal steps of the playground after nearly an hour and found Zack sleeping, his back pressed against the hard metal as though his life depended on it, his clothes soaked through with rain.

The officer carefully lifted Zack into his arms and headed back to his car, putting the sleeping Zack in the backseat, waiting for his partner to get in the car too before starting the engine and driving in the direction of the hospital. Zack was still sleeping, his damp hair falling down either side of his face as he automatically curled into a ball on the backseat. The minutes stretched past as the officers drove on, and then the building of the hospital loomed in the distance, drawing closer and closer until they finally parked in a reserved space. While the officer's partner stepped into the building to check what room Zack's parents were in, the main officer lifted Zack out the backseat and gently carried him inside. Zack awoke with a start. He was laying down on several soft seats, and when he sat up, it was only to see the empty waiting room.

"Hungry?" asked a male voice, and Zack looked around some more before finding a police officer leaning against the doorway opposite him. "Where am I?" was the first question that Zack asked, and the police officer stepped closer to Zack and took the seat next to him, sitting down gently. "You are in the hospital. There was an accident with your parents. They should be in the recovery room together by now." Zack felt tears sting his eyes as he looked down at the ground, feeling his face grow hot. The police officer reached out and took Zack's hand softly, and Zack looked up at the police officer, who gave a small smile. "We will catch the person who did this, I promise," he whispered, and then he had to stand up and leave as his partner called him into the other room.

"Oh, and one more thing," said the officer, coming to a stop beside the door, "Your parents are in Recovery Room 143. You can go in and see them," Zack nodded gratefully, and the officer looked at Zack sadly before disappearing into the next room. Zack slid off the chair, being the six-year-old he was, and began making his way toward another door, slipping down the corridor and slowly making his way past the doors. Room 1, Room 2, Room 3, Room 4, Room 5. It went on, and on, and on. By the time Zack found a staircase leading up, he only just got past Room 134. He ascended the staircase, and began the search again, only walking for three minutes before stopping outside Room 143. He peered inside and saw them. Or at least he saw his father. His mother was not inside the room. He carefully approached the bed where his father lay in a hospital robe. There was a bandage visible, the outline clear under the thin fabric, but all Zack did was place both hands on the side of the bed. He felt his father move slightly, and Matthew's eyes opened slightly as he reached his left hand down and grasped Zack's hand. "Dad?" Zack barely whispered, looking down at his father as he heard the breathing starting to slow. "I'm...displeased." Zack had never heard his father say something toxic toward him, so he was more than surprised when his father whispered his displeasure. Then the monitor beside the bed began beeping loudly, and the last breath left his father's body.