Adrian sat cross-legged on the living room rug, his crayons spread across the floor in a messy rainbow. His little hand gripped a red crayon tightly as he focused on his masterpiece: a picture of his mom, dad, and himself standing in front of their apartment. He made sure to draw their apartment door exactly right—a crooked "4B" written in black marker above the peephole. His mom always said it made their door look cheap, but Adrian liked it because it was theirs.
"Adrian, don't sit so close to the TV. You'll ruin your eyes," his mom called from the kitchen. She sounded tired. She always sounded tired.
"It's not even on!" Adrian yelled back, his words tumbling over each other like they were in a race.
It was true; the screen was black and dusty, reflecting his picture back at him. He didn't like the news anyway. They always talked about scary stuff, like the people who were going missing. He thought about that sometimes—what if someone tried to take him? But he had his dad for that. Dad wouldn't let anything bad happen.
"Don't yell at me, boy," his mom shot back, her voice sharp as the clatter of dishes in the sink.
Adrian winced, even though he wasn't scared of her. Not really. His mom was all bark. That's what Dad said.
The apartment door rattled, the deadbolt clicking loose, and Adrian shot to his feet, a grin spreading across his face.
"Daddy!" he yelled, his little legs carrying him to the door.
"Hey, big man!" His dad stepped inside, smelling like sweat and cold air. He worked at the docks, unloading cargo from the big ships that came in at all hours. His jacket was fraying at the cuffs, and his boots left little specks of mud on the carpet, but Adrian didn't care. He jumped up, arms wrapping around his dad's waist.
"Did you bring me anything?" Adrian asked, tilting his head up, his gap-toothed smile wide and expectant.
His dad laughed, deep and warm, and ruffled Adrian's hair. "I'm not made of money, boy. But—" He dug into his pocket and pulled out a little plastic soldier, its green paint chipped but still intact. "Found this in one of the crates. Figured you'd like it."
Adrian snatched it up like it was gold. "Thanks, Daddy!" He ran back to his crayons, immediately setting the soldier on the edge of his picture. Now their family had protection.
"Did you wash your hands?" his mom's voice cut in as she walked into the living room, drying her hands on a dish towel. She had her hair wrapped up in a scarf, and she was still wearing her house slippers. "You're not about to touch my baby with those dirty dock hands."
"Give me a second, Brenda, I just walked in," his dad said, exasperation creeping into his tone.
Brenda crossed her arms, leaning against the doorway. "That's what you always say. And you'll sit your behind on my couch and mess it up before you do anything."
Adrian ducked his head, his crayons forgotten as he watched them like he was peeking into a movie. They fought sometimes—not in a scary way, but in the way the characters on TV did. Like they both wanted to win.
His dad sighed, kicking off his boots by the door. "It's been a long day, Brenda. I'm not in the mood."
"Oh, and I am?" she shot back. "I've been here all day, cleaning up after him—" She waved a hand toward Adrian, who shrank into himself. "—and cooking and doing everything else while you're off doing God-knows-what at that job."
"Don't talk about my job like that," his dad said, his voice getting harder.
Adrian hated when his voice got like that. It made his stomach twist up.
"I'm not saying it's not work," Brenda said, her tone softer now but still sharp. "I'm just saying it's not enough. Rent's due in two weeks, and I'm not seeing enough to cover it. What am I supposed to do, Jerome? Pull money out of thin air?"
"We'll figure it out," Jerome said, scrubbing a hand over his face. "We always do."
Adrian watched his mom's face, her lips pressed tight like she wanted to say more but was holding it back. She always did that when she was mad but didn't want to yell. She looked over at Adrian and sighed.
"Go wash up. Dinner's almost ready."
Jerome walked past her into the kitchen, muttering something Adrian couldn't hear. His mom followed, and their voices turned into a low hum of back-and-forth that Adrian couldn't make out. He stayed on the floor, staring at his picture. It didn't feel so happy anymore.
That night, dinner was macaroni and cheese with little bits of hot dog mixed in. It was Adrian's favorite, even though he could tell his parents weren't in a good mood. His dad kept looking at the TV, where the news lady was talking about how another person had gone missing in Gotham Heights.
"They still think it's the Batman?" his dad asked, shaking his head. "That don't make any sense."
"You think they're wrong?" Brenda said, her eyebrows raising. "A man running around dressed like a bat, beating people up in the middle of the night? I wouldn't put it past him."
"Batman doesn't take people," Jerome said, his fork scraping his plate. "He's just trying to keep this city together, far as I can tell. If he wasn't out there, it'd be chaos."
"It's already chaos," Brenda muttered, her voice low but pointed. "People disappearing left and right, rent going up every month, jobs paying nothing…this city eats people alive."
Adrian looked between them, chewing slowly. "Does Batman eat people?" he asked, his eyes wide.
Both his parents laughed, and for a second, the tension broke. Brenda reached over to ruffle his hair, her fingers gentle. "No, baby, he doesn't eat people. He's not a monster."
"He's kinda scary," Adrian said, twirling his fork in his macaroni. "But maybe he's a good guy, like on TV. Like Superman."
"Superman doesn't live in Gotham," Jerome said, finishing his plate. "This city don't get heroes like that. All we got is the Bat. And he's…"
He trailed off, staring at the TV again.
Adrian followed his dad's gaze. The news lady was showing a picture of a girl who had gone missing. She looked young, maybe a teenager. Adrian wondered if she had a family who missed her.
Later that night, Adrian lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. The apartment was quiet now, except for the sound of the TV in the living room. He could hear his dad's voice, low and soft, as he talked to his mom. They weren't fighting anymore, but they weren't laughing either.
Adrian hugged his stuffed bear close, his new soldier sitting on the nightstand beside him. He thought about Batman, and the missing girl, and the way his mom and dad looked at each other when they thought he wasn't paying attention. He didn't understand all of it—not really—but he felt it, like a storm cloud hanging over their little apartment, heavy and gray.
He closed his eyes, whispering a prayer he'd heard his mom say once. "God, keep us safe. Keep Daddy safe. Don't let anybody take us."
Adrian couldn't sleep.
He had tried, but his eyes just wouldn't stay shut. His bed felt too warm, the sheets too scratchy. The city outside his window was buzzing, more alive than usual. Cars honked in the distance, and someone was yelling a few blocks away. It was Gotham, so there was always noise—but tonight felt different. Louder. Stranger.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed, dragging his stuffed bear with him as he shuffled to the window. He liked sitting there, pressing his forehead against the cool glass and watching the city lights blink like stars. He knew Gotham wasn't pretty like the cities in cartoons, but it was still special to him. It was his home.
There was something about the way the city looked tonight, though, that made his chest feel tight. He couldn't explain it, but Gotham felt heavier—like it was holding its breath.
Adrian's fingers traced little shapes on the glass as he thought about what his friend Malik had told him at school last week.
"You know what your superpower is?" Malik had asked during recess, shoving a PB&J into his mouth. "You don't forget nothin', Adrian. Not like, ever. You remember everything you see. That's your power."
Adrian didn't feel like it was a power. He just… remembered things. He didn't have to try. Like how his dad's face got all tired-looking when the bills came in, or how his mom always smiled at him in a way that made him feel warm even when she was mad. He remembered all of it.
Even the stuff he didn't want to remember—like the news stories about people disappearing, their faces frozen in blurry photographs on the TV screen. Adrian didn't like thinking about them. He didn't like that they stayed in his head.
He squinted into the night, watching the streets far below. Nothing moved except the occasional car, its headlights cutting through the dark. He sighed, about to turn back to bed, when something flew past the window.
Adrian froze, his breath catching in his throat.
It was fast—so fast he almost didn't catch it. But he saw it, and his mind grabbed onto the image, locking it in place like a snapshot. The thing looked like a monster. Its body gleamed like metal, but it moved like it wasn't entirely a machine. Sharp, angular armor covered it, and its glowing red circles—eyes? Lights?—pierced through the darkness. Its face had a wide, jagged mouth like it wanted to eat everything in front of it. Long, spiky horns jutted out of its head, and cables dangled from its body, snaking through the air as it flew.
Adrian gulped, stumbling back from the window as his hand flew to his chest. "What…" he whispered. His voice sounded tiny, even to him. His heart thumped hard, like it wanted to jump out of his ribs.
Before he could blink, something else slammed into the window, cracking the glass. He yelped, covering his head with his arms as shards tinkled onto the floor.
"Boy, what did you do?!" his mom shouted from her bedroom. Her voice made him jump even more than the glass had. She stormed into the room, her scarf half undone, and stopped when she saw the broken window. "Jerome! Get in here! The window's—"
Before she could finish, another shadow shot past the building. Adrian peeked through his fingers just in time to see it: Batman. He knew it was him, even though it was only a blur of black. He recognized the cape, the horns, the way he moved like he was part of the night.
"Mom! Mom, look! It's Batman!" Adrian shouted, his voice shaking but still brimming with excitement. He pressed his nose to the cracked glass, staring as Batman leaped from one building to the next, a green streak of light shooting past him. Adrian's jaw dropped. "And Green Lantern!"
"Get away from that window!" Brenda yanked him back, her grip firm on his shoulder. "What's wrong with you, staring at—"
"Brenda, what's goin' on?" Jerome appeared in the doorway, his work jacket still on. His eyes landed on the broken glass, then darted to the window. "What the hell—"
"Something broke the window," Brenda said quickly, her voice tight. "And he—he said he saw Batman."
"Batman, Green Lantern, and a monster!" Adrian interrupted, pointing toward the sky. "It was HUGE, Daddy. It had horns and—and glowing red lights!"
Jerome moved to the window, squinting into the night. His face went pale. "Brenda, get the tape. We need to seal this up. Now."
----
Hours later, the city was in chaos.
Adrian sat curled up on the couch, clutching his bear while his parents whispered in the kitchen. The news played on the TV, showing footage of fires, smoke, and people screaming in the streets. The monsters—parademons, the anchor called them—were everywhere, swooping down on civilians and dragging them into the sky.
"This is happening in cities all over the world," the news anchor said, her voice shaking. "Civilians are advised to stay indoors and lock their doors and windows."
"Like that's gonna help," Jerome muttered. He was sitting in the armchair now, a pistol resting on his lap. Adrian had never seen him hold a gun before. It looked strange in his hands, like it didn't belong there.
"Jerome, what are we gonna do?" Brenda asked, pacing the floor. Her arms were crossed, and her face looked tight, like she was holding back tears.
"We stay put," Jerome said firmly. "We wait this out."
"And if one of those things comes in here? What then?"
Jerome didn't answer right away. He just stared at the gun, his jaw tight. "Then I handle it."
The night dragged on. Adrian couldn't remember the last time he had felt so small. His mom sat beside him on the couch, stroking his hair as she whispered, "It's okay, baby. We're safe. We're safe."
But Adrian wasn't sure he believed her. The screams outside didn't stop. The news kept showing the same awful images: people being carried off, buildings crumbling, heroes fighting but looking overwhelmed. Adrian clung to his mom, trying to block it all out.
Then the ceiling broke.
It happened so fast. One second, the room was quiet except for the TV. The next, something crashed through the roof, sending debris flying. Adrian screamed, scrambling back as a parademon landed in the middle of the room. Its glowing red eyes locked onto them.
"Brenda, get him out of here!" Jerome shouted, raising the gun. He fired—BANG. BANG. BANG. The shots echoed in Adrian's ears, making him flinch, but the parademon didn't even flinch. It snarled, lunging at Jerome.
"Daddy!" Adrian screamed, but his mom grabbed him, pulling him toward the hallway.
He didn't see everything. He didn't want to. But he saw enough—his dad swinging the gun like a bat, the parademon grabbing him, the way Jerome's body crumpled under its claws.
"NO!" Adrian screamed, kicking and struggling as his mom dragged him into the bedroom. She slammed the door shut, locking it behind her.
"Adrian, listen to me," she said, her voice shaking. She knelt in front of him, gripping his shoulders. "You have to hide. Under the bed. Now."
"But—"
"Now!" she snapped, tears streaming down her face.
Adrian crawled under the bed, clutching his bear so tight it hurt. He watched as his mom opened the window, her face set like she had made up her mind about something.
The door burst open, and the parademon screeched, its jagged teeth glinting in the dim light. Brenda didn't hesitate. She jumped.
Adrian clamped his hands over his mouth, biting down on his bear to keep from screaming. He heard the thud outside, followed by the sound of wings. The parademon was gone.
But so was his mom.
Adrian curled into himself, shaking as the screams outside grew louder. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to forget. But he couldn't. He never forgot. That was his power. And now, it felt like a curse.
The screams faded into nothing, and Adrian's mind went white.
Adrian didn't cry anymore.
He thought he was supposed to—he'd cried so much last night his eyes felt like they'd run out of water. His cheeks were dry now, crusted with the salt of old tears. He sat on the cold floor of a drafty military tent, knees pulled up to his chest, his bear clutched tight in his arms. The bear smelled like his mom's perfume. He buried his face into it, but it didn't help.
Nothing felt right.
People moved around him—dozens of them, all stuffed into the camp like sardines in a can. Some were crying, some whispering, others just sitting there, staring into nothing. The big tent smelled like sweat and dirty clothes, and there was this faint, awful smell of blood. It made his stomach hurt.
"Hey, kid, you want a granola bar?" someone asked.
Adrian looked up. It was the lady who had been sitting near him earlier. She looked old—maybe as old as his grandma had been, with gray streaks in her hair and wrinkles carved deep into her face. Her name was Mrs. Hightower. He remembered because her voice was scratchy like she smoked too much, and she kept saying her name like she didn't want to be forgotten.
"I don't want it," Adrian mumbled, curling tighter around his bear. His stomach growled, but he didn't care.
Mrs. Hightower sighed, sinking down beside him with a grunt. "Suit yourself, but you gotta eat something, boy. Ain't no use starving yourself."
He didn't answer. She didn't say anything else either, just sat there with her hands folded in her lap, staring out at the tent full of people. Adrian liked her because she didn't talk too much. A lot of people were talking too much today.
Across the tent, two men were arguing. Adrian could hear them even though he didn't want to.
"They should've done something sooner!" one man hissed. He was tall and thin, with a face like a hawk. His voice shook like he was trying not to yell. "They've got Superman, don't they? Why didn't he stop it before it got this bad?"
"You don't know how this stuff works," the other man snapped back, shorter and stocky with a thick mustache. "Darkseid wasn't just some guy. He's a god—or close to it. The heroes did everything they could."
"Tell that to my wife," the first man spat. "She's gone. My kids are gone. Don't tell me they did 'everything they could.'"
Adrian buried his face in his bear again. He hated when people talked about the people they'd lost. It made his chest hurt, and his throat feel all tight, and it made his dad's voice come back in his head, saying, "Brenda, get him out of here!" He didn't want to hear that voice anymore. It hurt too much.
----
Later, the soldiers wheeled a big TV into the center of the tent, plugging it into a generator. Adrian heard one of them say, "The President's about to speak. We'll have a message of hope soon."
Hope? Adrian thought bitterly. What good was hope? Hope didn't stop his dad from dying. Hope didn't make his mom come back.
People shuffled closer to the TV, murmuring to each other. Adrian stayed where he was, pressed against the tent wall, but he could still see the screen.
On it, the President stood behind a podium, looking old and tired, with gray hair slicked back and glasses perched on his nose. His suit was clean and sharp, like he hadn't been anywhere near the chaos. He didn't look like someone who'd lost anything. Adrian hated him a little for that.
"My fellow citizens," he began. "Last night, we faced a nightmare unlike anything the world has ever seen. An invasion. A global assault by forces we could hardly comprehend. And in that darkest hour, as our cities burned and our families were torn apart, we looked to the sky for an answer. We found it in the bravery of the men and women who fought back. The heroes."
Adrian hugged his bear tighter.
"They didn't just fight for Gotham, or Metropolis, or Central City. They fought for all of us. They stood together, a united front against an enemy that wanted to destroy us. And they prevailed." The President's voice swelled, growing stronger. "Because of them, the Earth still stands. Because of them, humanity survives."
Someone in the tent clapped. Adrian didn't know who. He didn't look up.
"I know many of you have lost loved ones," the President continued. "And I cannot begin to imagine the depth of your pain. But I also know that today, in the wake of this tragedy, we must look forward. We must rebuild. And we must ask ourselves what kind of world we want to live in. In this modern age of technology and progress, is it enough to rely on the systems we've built? Or do we need something more? A new symbol of unity and protection. A new hope."
Adrian's jaw tightened. His fingers dug into the bear's soft fur. He wanted to stop listening, but the words hooked into him, pulling him closer.
"That is why, today, I am proud to introduce something new. A force for justice. A league of heroes. Superman, Wonder Woman, Batman, The Flash, Green Lantern, Aquaman, and others who will step forward to stand as guardians of peace. Together, they will be known as…the Justice League."
The tent erupted into noise. Some people cheered, clapping and shouting. Others stayed quiet, their faces set and grim. Adrian sat frozen, staring at the screen.
The President kept talking, but Adrian wasn't listening anymore. His mind was stuck on the images flashing across the screen now: Superman in his bright red cape, Wonder Woman holding her sword high, Batman standing in the shadows. People were calling them heroes. But heroes didn't let his mom jump out of a window. Heroes didn't let his dad get ripped apart by a monster.
Heroes didn't save the day. They just survived.
-----
Author's Note:
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