Once outside of the burrow, the smell of the city air seemed stronger than it had before. People pushed past, desperate to get to whatever nothing they had planned. Peter tried imagining being part of the crowd, he'd tried it once and had quickly discovered that he wasn't compatible with normal life. That was what he got for being raised by The Watch.
"What's that mister?" The boy asked with the token curiosity of a child.
Peter looked at his hand, it was still holding the disc. A foolish mistake.
"I'll tell you later." He wouldn't risk spilling his secrets in public light. "On the train."
"We're going on the train?" There was excitement now.
A smile surprised Peter. "Of course."
An hour later he took a seat in the shabby passenger car at the near back of the train. It wasn't much, but at least there were full walls unlike his last ride. No one else was in the car as far as he could tell. Green words ran across the screen in silence. Target: Lloyd Moord and his associates. Code Name: None. Hunter: Peter Het. Difficulty: 11.
Peter held the button down. The words on the screen shifted.
Project: New York Balance. Info: The customer wants to eliminate Moord's growing influence on New York through any means necessary, stealth is not desired. Moord and company are involved in the N.Y.C reconstruction commission.
He tapped the button, and the words washed away. Any other information he needed he could get from his contractor. The boy studied Peter with silent interest. "So…"
"Oh yes, this is just a little note pad." It was mostly the truth. "I just needed to check something about where we're going."
The boy nodded; he looked bored. Peter's foot tapped. He couldn't stand the silence. "Do you want to hear a story?"
"About what?"
Peter thought for a moment, the most exciting stories he had all came from the same time in his life. He didn't like treading through his field of memories, but so long as he stayed away from the dangerous patches it would be fine. "About me when I was your age."
14 years ago
Gunshots echoed in the distance. A boy with strange black markings huddled in a crater made by the raging battle. Gun fire got closer; he could smell fresh blood. In an unheard voice he prayed to a God he didn't know. "Please, help me. Please."
Minute after minute passed, hour after hour. The sun that had been young in the sky now looked like a bloody hole in the distant sky. Peter didn't dare to move; he didn't want anyone to find him. Something nearby moved, he cringed and pushed deeper into the crater. Again, something moved, this time closer. A head poked over the edge of the crater.
"Hey anyone down there?" He sounded about Peter's age. "Hey you. What's your name?" He shouted at Peter.
"It's…" He didn't trust this unknown person. Before Peter answered they crept around the edge of the crater. They had metal wings that drooped behind them on the ground.
"I'm Levi." They said proudly.
"I… I'm Peter." He said it quietly.
"What was that?" Levi yelled.
"Peter." He said it a little louder, still hardly anything more than a whisper.
"So, Peter, what's your power?" Levi was resting against a chunk of concrete that had been torn from the earth in the battle that had occurred less than an hour ago. For some reason Levi didn't seem to realize what had happened, or maybe he just didn't care.
Peter didn't feel the same way. He'd just had his world ripped out of his hands. He didn't want to talk. Levi did. He tried dodging the questions, but they kept coming. One finally came that sparked his interest.
"What are you gonna do when you grow up?" Levi had climbed on top of the concrete block and was trying to float using his wings.
Peter stared at the earth as he said his answer. "I'm going to be a hero. Like my parents." Like his parents… not anymore, now he would be a hero like his parents had been. Tears were coming to his eyes.
"Hey, why are you crying?"
"I'm not." Peter raised an arm to wipe the tears out of his eyes.
"Yes, you are."
"Shut up!" He yelled, it was the loudest thing he'd said.
"I didn't think you could be that loud." Levi jumped off the block and glided on his wings for half a second. "When I grow up, I'm gonna be the strongest. And when I'm the strongest no one will ever mess with me or my family." He was confident. Peter couldn't understand it. "I'm gonna learn to use this stuff called Lumes, and then no one will want to mess with me."
"So, you also want to be a hero?"
Levi glared at him. "I'm bored of this conversation." He started to walk away.
"Wait, please don't go." Peter said, his voice once again nothing but a whisper. He didn't want to be left alone. But it was already too late, the other boy was gone. The sun that had been dying in the horizon soon vanished and Peter was left alone in the infinite shadows of night. He reached out a hand and made a shadow clone of himself. It hugged him, but it didn't feel real. Like the touch of someone in a dream. Whispering words to his parents - that he knew were gone - he kept saying. "Please don't leave me." Again, and again and again. No one came for him. Not before the sun rose. And even after it had followed its path high into the sky, no one came for Peter.
Hunger seized him forcing him to leave his hiding place. The city he walked into was stained with ash and gashes of destruction. The road had been torn apart like dirt underneath a behemoth's foot. Not a single window remained unbroken on the faces of the steel mountains. He looked up and down the road, and all he saw was more carnage. Buildings had crumbled and others threatened to do the same. There were voices that filled the air with anguished cries. Names swirled about, seeking out the dead. No one was helping them. Fires belched smoke from black holes in the sides of buildings, no one came to help.
Peter's feet were bare and blistered, glass shards and knife-like shrapnel biting into his skin. Every step grew more and more painful. He kept moving forward. He needed food or water. Anything to keep the flame of life burning.
There was one building he saw that was full of people. That building had to have something for him. Yes, there had to be something. People in the building were crying, Peter wasn't anymore. He made his blistered feet carry him to the entrance of the building and then push him through the mourning crowd. They had to be looking for something just like he was. Yes. Maybe he would find water. He kept pushing his way through the crowd. And then like he'd stumbled out of a thick patch of briers and over the edge of a cliff he discovered what the crowd had been mourning for.
He wished he hadn't pushed his way through the crowd, he wished he would have held himself back and dwelled in his crater, and for a moment he even wished he could have been one of the people that had died in the battle.
None of those things could be changed. He saw that truth reflected in the two bodies that lay in front of him. Two bodies that were familiar to him. Two bodies of the people who were closest to him. The two bodies of his heroes. The bodies of his parents.
Warm tears stained his cheeks, and he couldn't stop them. He might have wailed but he didn't hear it. He pounded his useless fists into the ground. His fingers clenched tightly drawing blood with his nails. And in his mind, he told himself something that he would never let go. I'm going to avenge you; I don't care what it takes. I'm going to get back at the monsters who did this.