Continuation of Chapter 2
Hero's Day Celebration
Next day, 6:00 a.m.
LEONARD
The first rays of sunlight filter through my curtains, coaxing me from sleep. I sit up, stretch, and take a moment to breathe in the stillness before the day begins. It's Hero's Day—a day for Zetacode. For me.
Slipping into my work clothes, I move through the motions of my morning routine. When I step into the kitchen, Bonnie is already there, her smile lighting up the room more than the sunrise ever could.
"Happy Hero's Day, Leonard," she says, her voice brimming with affection.
I smile back, leaning in to kiss her cheek. "Thanks, Bonnie. Big day ahead."
As I gather my things, she adds with a playful grin, "Go save the day, Zetacode!"
Her words stay with me as I navigate another routine morning at CBS. Work flows by, a blur of deadlines and chatter, but there's an undercurrent of anticipation humming in my chest. By the time noon rolls around, I'm ready.
"See you tomorrow," I tell my colleagues, my eyes sparkling with eagerness.
The streets of New York are alive with energy as I make my way to Times Square. Banners wave proudly, children clutch superhero masks, and the scent of pretzels and hot dogs mingles with the crisp afternoon air. The crowd is electric, their excitement crackling like static.
---
Times Square, Noon
In the heart of the city, the celebration is in full swing. A charismatic orator stands at the podium, her voice carrying over the sea of faces.
"Hey, New York! How we feeling today?" she calls out, waving her hands theatrically.
The crowd roars in response, a cacophony of cheers and whistles.
"That's what I like to hear!" She beams. "Now, today isn't just any day—it's Hero's Day. A day to celebrate love, bravery, and our very own neighborhood legend. Who knows who I'm talking about?"
The crowd erupts again, chanting, "Zetacode! Zetacode!"
She grins, leaning into the microphone. "That's right. Zetacode—our lightning-fast protector, our skyscraper-scaling savior. But let's not forget, behind the mask is a person. A person with dreams, love, and a story worth telling."
The crowd falls quiet, her words drawing them in like a spell.
"Picture this: New York City, loud and chaotic as always. But up on a rooftop, above all the noise, there's a moment of quiet. Zetacode, standing tall, scanning the horizon. And then…" She pauses for effect, her eyes twinkling. "He sees her. The one who makes his world stand still."
My chest tightens as the memory surfaces.
"They meet under the sunlight," the orator continues, her voice softening. "A dance of shadows and secrets. He reaches out, she takes his hand, and for that moment, the city fades away. It's just them."
The crowd sighs collectively, enchanted by the tale.
"And today," the orator declares, her voice swelling, "we're not just celebrating Zetacode's heroics. We're celebrating his heart."
The cheers return, louder than ever. The orator raises her arm dramatically. "Now, let's hear it for the hero himself! Zetacode!"
---
As if on cue, I sprint forward, the familiar weight of my suit grounding me as the crowd's cheers surge around me. Flashbulbs explode like fireworks, capturing the moment as I leap onto the stage and stand beside the orator.
She grins and gestures toward the award in her hands—a sleek silver plaque etched with my name.
"For your bravery, your speed, and your heart, Zetacode," she says, her voice warm with admiration, "we present this award as a token of New York's gratitude."
The crowd erupts into applause, chanting my name as I take the award with a nod of thanks. Behind the mask, I can't help but smile.
But just as the applause begins to die down, a ripple of unease moves through the crowd.
---
A voice cuts through the celebration. "Wait… what is that?"
I follow their gaze to the edge of the square, where a shadowy figure emerges from the crowd. Its silhouette is hulking and unnatural, with elongated limbs and glowing red eyes.
"Oh my God," someone gasps. "Is that… a monster?"
"Somebody call the police!" another shouts, panic creeping into their voice.
The crowd recoils as the figure moves closer, its distorted features now visible under the harsh afternoon sun. Its growl reverberates through the square, low and menacing.
I step forward instinctively, my hand tightening around the award. "Everyone, get back!" I shout, my voice cutting through the chaos.
The orator backs away, her earlier confidence replaced with fear. "Zetacode… what is that thing?"
I don't answer. My focus is locked on the creature as it snarls and lunges forward. This isn't how I expected Hero's Day to end—but then again, heroes don't get days off.
The streets of Times Square are soaked in chaos. Shattered glass glints in the fading sunlight, reflecting the iridescent form of the **Aquatic Marauder** as he towers over the debris. His watery body ripples with a sinister elegance, his every movement radiating power and menace. The air is thick with tension, the crowd's screams fading into a distant roar as I step forward.
"Hold it right there, Waterman!" I call out, electricity crackling around my fists.
The Marauder turns, his face sculpted from swirling currents, eyes glowing with an otherworldly light. A low chuckle escapes him, like the sound of a rising tide.
"Zetacode," he says, his voice deep and resonant, echoing as if from the depths of the ocean. "You dare challenge the tide? You'll drown in my storm."
He raises an arm, and a column of water surges from the ground, crashing toward me with the force of a tsunami. I leap to the side, my green lightning sizzling as it arcs through the air. The water crashes into a parked van, crumpling it like paper and sending a spray of debris into the air.
"You've got a flair for the dramatic," I say, landing in a crouch. "But I'm not here to play lifeguard."
I dart forward, a streak of green light against the darkening city. Lightning crackles from my hands as I unleash a focused blast straight at his chest. The bolt slices through him, momentarily breaking his form into a cascade of droplets.
But it's not enough.
The droplets swirl and reform almost instantly, his laughter mocking my efforts. "Lightning against water? A bold choice, Zetacode. But you can't destroy what flows."
He retaliates, hurling a wave of water toward me. I dash backward, weaving through the streets, my mind racing. He's right—electricity can disrupt him, but only temporarily. I need a plan.
---
The Marauder surges after me, his body elongating into a towering wave. He slams into the pavement, sending water crashing in all directions. I narrowly avoid being swept off my feet, my boots skidding against the slick asphalt.
"You can run, but you can't escape the ocean!" he bellows, his voice reverberating like thunder.
"Who said I'm running?" I quip, darting to the side.
I spot an overturned fire hydrant, water gushing from its broken spout. An idea sparks. I bolt toward it, skidding to a stop as I grab the exposed metal pipe. Electricity courses through my body as I channel it directly into the water. The green lightning races through the stream, crackling and hissing as it surges toward the Marauder.
For a moment, he falters, his form flickering as the electric charge disrupts his liquid composition. He staggers, reforming more sluggishly.
"Clever," he growls, his tone darkening. "But not clever enough."
He raises both arms, summoning a massive vortex of water. The swirling column towers above us, a churning storm of destruction. It roars to life, pulling debris—and me—into its grasp.
---
The pull is relentless. I dig my heels into the ground, but the force of the vortex drags me closer. Water coils around my limbs, tightening like a vice. My lightning flickers weakly, the damp air sapping my strength.
"Feel the power of the tides, Zetacode," the Marauder says, his voice triumphant. "Even the fastest cannot outrun the flood."
The water engulfs me, cold and crushing. My lungs burn as I fight to break free, my body struggling against the unyielding current. For a moment, panic threatens to take hold.
But I refuse to give in.
I close my eyes, focusing on the electricity within me. It pulses faintly, a flicker of light in the darkness. I channel every ounce of energy I have left, igniting the lightning into a blinding surge.
The green electricity explodes outward, shattering the vortex. The force sends me flying, landing hard on the pavement. I gasp for air, coughing up water as I push myself to my knees.
---
The Marauder looms above me, his form regaining its strength. He steps forward, ready to deliver the final blow. But before he can strike, a voice cuts through the chaos.
"Well, well. Looks like someone forgot how to swim."
I turn to see **Morinjo Johnson** striding toward me, flanked by **Jessica Quick** and a towering, muscular man with a bald head. Morinjo's grin is as sharp as ever, his eyes glinting with mischief.
"Good afternoon, man in green," he says, offering a hand to help me up. "Long time no see."
The Marauder hesitates, his liquid form rippling with unease as he takes in the newcomers. I wipe the water from my face, accepting Morinjo's hand with a wry smile.
"Perfect timing," I say, standing tall. "Let's show this guy what teamwork looks like."
Morinjo smirks, cracking his knuckles. "Gladly."
Without a word, Marauder retreats, his body dissipating into the nearest storm drain. The danger is gone—for now—but the tension lingers in the air.
"Guess he's not so tough when it's three against one," Morinjo quips, brushing imaginary dust off his jacket.
I glance at him, raising an eyebrow. "Three against one? You didn't even throw a punch."
Morinjo grins. "I was saving the best for later."
Before I can respond, a serious voice interrupts.
"I'm Daniel Rodriguez," the muscular man says, stepping forward. "Agent of Generalship, Arbitration, Logistics, Administrating, Xenagogue of Yuba City—G.A.L.A.X.Y. Jessica here is also an agent."
I nod toward Jessica. "Yeah, I already know Jessica's an agent."
Daniel continues, unbothered. "We need your help, Zetacode. The G.A.L.A.X.Y Organization is facing a critical mission—"
"Daniel," Morinjo interjects, holding up a hand. "Let me do the talking." He turns to me, his expression uncharacteristically serious.
"We're tracking down a mystery artifact called the **Alabaster Box**. It's powerful—dangerously powerful—and it's fallen into the wrong hands. Daniel and Jessica came to my city asking for my help, but this mission is bigger than just us. We need someone faster. Someone like you."
I fold my arms, studying his face. "So, you want me to drop everything and join your cosmic treasure hunt?"
Morinjo's grin returns. "Exactly. What do you say?"
I hesitate for just a moment, the weight of his words sinking in. Then I smirk. "You had me at 'dangerously powerful.' I'm in."
"What?" Daniel blurts, clearly taken aback.
"I said I'm in. If you need me, then you need my team, too. This mission is bigger than one speedster."
Jessica steps forward, arms crossed. "Wait—what team? Where exactly are you planning to go?"
"To Los Angeles," I say, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "Didn't you hear me? G.A.L.A.X.Y needs the Ventures."
Next Day – Los Angeles
JOHN BROWN
The sanctuary buzzes with quiet anticipation as Kevin Hunter and I take our places on the stage. The grand church is alive with the hum of expectation, the morning light streaming through the stained-glass windows casting vibrant patterns on the congregation.
With a shared glance, we nod, the connection forged through years of friendship and shared faith evident in that simple moment. The first notes of the melody rise, and Kevin begins, his voice warm and inviting.
"Let's clap. One, two... hey!" he encourages, setting the rhythm.
The congregation claps along, their hands a percussion to the melody, as Kevin's voice soars:
*"Let everything, let everything that has breath,
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord."*
The crowd joins in, voices blending in a unified chorus. The atmosphere transforms, charged with devotion and joy. Then, my voice cuts through, low and steady, carrying the conviction of a man who has lived through the valleys and the mountaintops.
*"I'll praise in the valley, praise on the mountain,
I'll praise when I'm sure, praise when I'm doubting."*
My words resonate, and the crowd sways in response. Kevin steps in, his voice harmonizing with mine.
*"I'll praise when outnumbered, praise when surrounded,
'Cause praise is the water my enemies drown in."*
The congregation erupts, hands raised, voices lifted in an outpouring of shared faith. Kevin and I glance at each other, a shared smile acknowledging the energy in the room.
We lead them into the chorus, the words a simple yet profound declaration:
*"As long as I'm breathing,
I've got a reason to
Praise the Lord, oh my soul,
Praise the Lord, oh my soul."*
The energy builds with every verse. Kevin's voice carries the bridge, his tone both gentle and commanding, a call for gratitude and devotion:
*"I'll praise 'cause You're sovereign, praise 'cause You reign,
Praise 'cause You rose and defeated the grave."*
The crowd responds with enthusiasm, echoing the words like a collective heartbeat. The music rises, the drums pounding in time with clapping hands and stomping feet.
*"Jump, jump, jump, jump!*" Kevin shouts, his energy contagious.
The entire sanctuary seems to move as one, a sea of people caught up in the joy of worship. The sound of praise is deafening, yet beautiful, a testament to the unity of spirit in the room.
Finally, the song crescendos into a final, powerful refrain.
*"Let everything that has breath,
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, praise the Lord!"*
As the last note fades, a hush falls over the congregation. The stillness is almost tangible, the energy suspended in the air like a held breath.
From the side of the stage, Pastor Paul Enenche steps forward, his presence commanding yet comforting. He takes the microphone, his voice steady and resonant.
"Brothers and sisters," he begins, his words carrying the weight of a man who has seen the power of faith in action. "Today, we are reminded that in every season, in every circumstance, we have a reason to praise. And in that praise, we find our blessing."
The congregation murmurs in agreement, their spirits lifted by the song and the promise of the message to come.
"THE CONTENT OF THE BLESSING OF GOD"
With passion and conviction, Pastor Paul shares insights on the transformative power of gratitude, emphasizing the joy that comes from acknowledging God's goodness. The congregation listens intently, their spirits lifted by the sermon's sincerity and depth. The words settle like seeds in fertile soil, promising growth in faith and understanding.
After the service, Kevin and I approach the pastor. His warm smile feels like a beacon of light, and as his hands rest gently on our heads, he utters a heartfelt prayer. His words, laden with hope and divine assurance, resonate deeply as he asks for wisdom, knowledge, and revelations for us both.
As the final "amen" echoes softly, a group strides toward us purposefully. Leading them is Morinjo, flanked by Leonard, Jessica, and a bald, muscular man with ebony skin. Their expressions are a mix of curiosity and determination.
"Hey, Mr. Believer! Long time no see!" Morinjo calls out, a playful smirk on his face.
"Morinjo!" I respond with mock surprise. "I thought you'd vanished for good."
"Not a chance," he laughs, clasping my hand in a firm handshake. "I'm here now, as always."
"Good to see you too," Leonard adds with a smile. "Still chasing speed records?"
"You know me," I reply. "But, hey, I'm Leonard, not Mr. Speedy."
Jessica steps forward, addressing Kevin. "Good afternoon, Kevin. How's the music career?"
"Going well, thanks. And yours?"
"Same here. Still chasing perfection," she replies with a grin.
Then, Leonard shifts the conversation. "Actually, we're not just here for pleasantries. We need your help."
"Help?" Kevin and I exchange glances.
Leonard nods. "Jessica and Daniel came to my city asking for support. We're trying to retrieve a mystery box—the *Alabaster*. It's not something we can handle alone. We need someone who can rip and tear through obstacles."
I raise an eyebrow. "You mean...a werewolf?"
"Exactly," Leonard confirms.
Without hesitation, I reply, "Alright. I'm in."
Kevin looks stunned. "What? Just like that?"
"They're my team, Kevin. When your team calls, you answer."
"And what about your mom?"
"She'll be fine," I say firmly. "She's stronger than you think. Now, let's move."
Morinjo, Leonard, Jessica, Daniel, and I exit the church, making our way to a sleek Quinjet parked nearby. Its polished surface gleams under the sunlight, giving it an almost otherworldly appearance.
"Whoa," I mutter, taking in the sight. "You guys have a private jet?"
"Yup," Jessica replies casually.
"And the pilot?"
"You're looking at her."
As we board, the muscular man introduces himself. "Daniel Rodriguez," he says with a firm handshake. "Agent of the G.A.L.A.X.Y. Organization—Generalship, Arbitration, Logistics, Administration, and Xenagogue of Yuba City."
"Impressive title," I quip, taking my seat in the futuristic interior.
Jessica slides into the pilot's seat, her movements fluid and confident. Daniel joins her upfront, while the rest of us settle into the plush, high-tech seats. The controls and ambient lighting give the jet an almost sci-fi ambiance.
"Where to next?" I ask, fastening my seatbelt.
"Australia," Morinjo replies. "We need to convince the final member to join us."
Jessica powers up the engines, her fingers dancing over the controls with precision. The jet lifts off smoothly, ascending into the sky with practiced ease.