The bus rattled softly as it moved along the pristine streets of Crown City, its tires humming against the smooth asphalt. Leon sat near the back, his briefcases beside him, his gaze fixed on the window. Outside, the city unfolded like a postcard—gleaming skyscrapers, bustling crowds, and flashes of vibrant colors from the uniforms of heroes patrolling the skies.

  Crown City was a marvel, a place where ambition thrived and where heroes weren’t just protectors but icons. Billboards and holograms lined the streets, bearing the faces of celebrated heroes with slogans like “Your Safety, Our Priority” and “Courage Unites Us.” Below, people hurried between high-end shops, cafes, and corporate buildings, their chatter blending with the hum of the city.

  Leon’s reflection stared back at him from the window, his face pale and drawn. He adjusted his grip on the handles of his briefcases, his knuckles whitening. He had worked so hard, endured so much, and for what? His chest ached as the weight of rejection settled deeper, heavier, as if it might crush him entirely.

  The recruiter’s words echoed in his mind, sharp and unrelenting. “Machines can only go as far as their creator’s knowledge. What happens when you don’t have your suit?” Each sentence felt like a nail driven deeper into the coffin of his dream. No matter how he tried to rationalize it, to push through the pain, those words kept returning.

  He had given everything. Years spent training, studying, building his skills—all with one goal: to become a hero. It wasn’t just a dream. It was his purpose, the one thing that had kept him going after everything he’d lost.

  His parents had believed in him. They had always told him he could achieve anything, that he was meant for something greater. When they were gone, he had clung to those words like a lifeline. He had worked tirelessly, sacrificing everything to prove them right. To make their sacrifices matter.

  But now, sitting on this bus, all of it felt meaningless.

  He thought back to the endless nights spent refining his suit, poring over blueprints until his hands cramped and his eyes burned. The combat training that left him bruised and exhausted but gave him hope that he could stand alongside heroes. The certifications he earned, each one a testament to his determination. And yet, none of it mattered. Without a superpower, it was all for nothing.

  His hands tightened on the briefcases as a bitter thought crept in: What was the point?

  Leon stared out the window as the bus left Crown City’s core, the skyline slowly fading behind him. The towering buildings and vibrant streets were replaced by smaller, more modest structures. The transition was subtle at first, but as the bus moved further, the stark contrast became undeniable.

  Crown City stood as the pinnacle of wealth and innovation, the beating heart of hero culture. It was where the Hero League’s headquarters resided, where the most powerful and celebrated heroes called home. To live there was to be surrounded by ambition and opportunity, but for Leon, it was a reminder of what he would never achieve.

  To the west lay Victorian City, a sprawling metropolis known for its balance and respectability. It lacked the glamour of Crown City but made up for it with its strong middle class and thriving economy. Heroes who chose to station themselves there found stability—a chance to build their reputations steadily without the cutthroat competition of Crown City. Victorian had been the site of the robbery earlier that morning, the place where Leon had once again failed to be seen.

  But as the bus continued east, the scenery changed dramatically. The roads grew rougher, the buildings more worn, their facades cracked and faded. By the time the bus crossed into Greyflint City, the transformation was complete.

  Greyflint wasn’t just different. It was forgotten. A city riddled with crime and neglect, its streets were scarred by poverty, its buildings adorned with gang graffiti and rust. The few heroes who ventured here rarely stayed long. The risks were too high, the rewards too low. It was easier to fight bank robbers in Victorian or pose for photos in Crown City than to take on the gangs and corruption that ran Greyflint.

  The bus jolted over a pothole, pulling Leon from his thoughts. He stared out the window at the crumbling streets of Greyflint, the broken streetlights casting faint shadows over the graffiti-stained walls. The sights were familiar, but today they felt heavier, colder. This was home—or the closest thing to it.

  As the bus slowed to a stop near a small corner market, Leon stood, his movements deliberate and slow. He slung his backpack over his shoulder and picked up his briefcases, stepping off the bus and into the dimming light of the street. The air hit him—thick with the smell of smoke and damp concrete—and the faint sounds of a distant siren echoed through the narrow alleys.

  Leon walked down the uneven pavement, his gaze fixed ahead as his thoughts spiraled. This was supposed to be different. This was supposed to be my chance. Each step felt heavier than the last, his briefcases dragging like weights at his side. He had worked so hard, endured so much, but without a superpower, none of it mattered. He could never be the hero he had dreamed of becoming. Never be the pillar of hope he had promised himself he would be.

  His parents’ voices echoed faintly in his mind, words of encouragement and love that had carried him through the darkest times. But now, those memories felt like a cruel reminder of what he hadn’t lived up to. He had wanted to prove them right, to make their sacrifices mean something. But he hadn’t. He couldn’t.

  For the first time, he allowed himself to think: Maybe they were wrong about me.

  The thought sent a sharp pang through his chest, and he stopped walking, his gaze falling to the cracked pavement beneath his boots. His shoulders slumped, and he tightened his grip on the briefcases, as if holding onto them could somehow hold him together.

  Around him, the streets of Greyflint stretched on, cold and indifferent. Groups of people lingered in shadows, their conversations muted. A pair of children ran across the street, their laughter sharp against the heavy air. No one paid him any mind, just another figure lost in the city’s endless struggle.

  Leon let out a shaky breath, forcing himself to move forward. There’s nothing else. Nowhere else.

  The city swallowed him whole as the shadows deepened and the sun dipped below the horizon.

  Leon’s boots scraped against the cracked pavement as he walked through the dim streets of Greyflint, the faint hum of distant traffic his only companion. The briefcases in his hands felt heavier with every step, dragging not just his arms but his thoughts further into despair. The streetlights flickered weakly overhead, casting fleeting pools of light on the crumbling facades of buildings riddled with graffiti and neglect.

  He tried to focus on the rhythm of his steps, on the cold air brushing against his face, anything to drown out the whirlwind of thoughts spinning in his mind. But the question he had fought so hard to suppress over the years loomed larger with every block he passed.

  Should I quit?

  Leon clenched his teeth, his grip tightening on the handles of the briefcases. He had never allowed himself to even entertain the idea before. He had pushed through rejection after rejection, telling himself it was all part of the process, that persistence would eventually pay off. But now, it felt like the process had run its course, and he had reached the end of the line.

  Without the backing of the Hero League, there was nowhere else to go. No more agencies to appeal to. No one willing to give him the chance he so desperately needed. He had clawed his way to this point through sheer determination, fueled by the belief that his hard work and ingenuity could overcome his lack of a superpower. But the reality was undeniable: Without a power, I’m nothing.

  Leon had always believed that being a hero wasn’t just about powers—it was about resolve, about stepping up when no one else would. He had spent years proving that resolve, training relentlessly, earning certifications, and building a suit that could stand toe-to-toe with the best heroes out there. He had thrown everything he had into this dream, sacrificing time, money, and any semblance of a normal life.

  And yet, it wasn’t enough.

  Without financial support, the costs of maintaining his equipment would become impossible to bear. His job barely paid the bills as it was, and every spare cent he earned had gone toward upgrading his gear or repairing the damage it sustained in the field. The thought of continuing alone, without resources or backup, felt like standing at the edge of a cliff with nowhere to go but down.

  Even worse was the legality of it all. Without the League’s endorsement, he wasn’t a hero—he was a vigilante. The system didn’t care about his intentions, only that he operated outside the law. And heroes who didn’t follow the rules were treated no differently than the criminals they fought. If he crossed paths with an official hero while trying to save someone, they wouldn’t hesitate to bring him in—or worse.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  Leon sighed heavily, his breath visible in the cold air. I’ve done everything I can. What else is there?

  The ache in his chest deepened as memories of his parents surfaced unbidden. He could still hear their voices, encouraging him, believing in him. They had always told him he was destined for something greater, that he had the strength to achieve anything he set his mind to. But now, standing in the shadow of his failure, those words felt like a cruel reminder of what he wasn’t.

  I wanted to prove them right. I wanted to make their sacrifices mean something. But all I’ve done is waste my time—and theirs.

  Lost in thought, Leon barely noticed when he reached the pedestrian bridge that spanned a busy highway. The faint hum of rushing cars grew louder as he ascended, the headlights below streaking like ghosts through the dark. He tightened his grip on the briefcases, his steps slowing as the weight of everything threatened to crush him.

  The question came again, louder this time: Should I quit?

  But before he could answer, his eyes caught movement ahead.

  A boy, no older than high school age, stood near the edge of the bridge, his posture rigid. The faint glow of passing headlights illuminated his face—pale, tense, and lined with fear. His hands gripped the railing, his gaze fixed downward at the sea of rushing cars below.

  Leon’s heart clenched, and without hesitation, he dropped his briefcases with a thud. “Hey!” he called out, his voice sharp with urgency as he broke into a sprint. His boots pounded against the concrete as he closed the distance. “Wait!”

  The boy flinched at the sound, turning his head slightly. But just as Leon reached out, the boy’s eyes shut tightly, and he let go of the railing.

  “No!” Leon shouted, his hand shooting out as the boy disappeared over the edge. His fingers closed around the boy’s wrist, the force wrenching him forward against the railing. His ribs slammed into the cold metal, the impact jolting through his body, but he held on, his grip ironclad.

  “Hold on!” Leon gritted through clenched teeth, his other hand gripping the railing for balance. The boy dangled precariously over the highway, his wide eyes filled with shock and terror as the rush of cars roared beneath him.

  Leon dug deep, summoning every ounce of strength he had. With a guttural cry, he pulled the boy upward, his muscles straining as he hauled him back onto solid ground. They collapsed onto the pavement together, both gasping for breath.

  Leon sat up first, turning to the boy with concern etched into his features. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice shaky but steady.

  The boy stared at him, his face pale and tear-streaked. Then, suddenly, he lashed out, his voice cracking with anger and grief. “Why did you do that?” he shouted. “Why didn’t you just let me go?”

  Leon blinked, startled by the boy’s outburst. “I couldn’t just let—”

  “You don’t understand!” the boy cut him off, his voice rising. “I wanted to die! It would’ve been better for everyone—better for my sister! She wouldn’t have to deal with me anymore. She’d finally be free!”

  The boy broke down, collapsing onto his knees as sobs wracked his small frame. “They keep hurting her... all because of me. She’d be better off if I wasn’t here.”

  Leon’s chest tightened at the boy’s words. Without thinking, he moved forward and wrapped his arms around him, pulling him into a firm but gentle embrace. The boy stiffened at first, his body trembling, but after a moment, he clung to Leon, his tears soaking into his shirt.

  “It’s okay,” Leon murmured, his voice soft and steady. “It’s going to be okay.”

  The boy’s sobs grew louder, his hands gripping Leon’s shirt as if it were the only thing keeping him grounded. “It’s not,” he choked out. “It’s never okay.”

  Leon rested a hand on the boy’s back, his tone filled with quiet determination. “It will be,” he said firmly. “Things can change. They will change. But you have to stay alive to see it. Your life matters—you matter. And I promise you, your sister doesn’t want this for you.”

  The boy’s cries began to subside, though his breathing was still shaky. Leon continued, his voice gentle but resolute. “No storm lasts forever. I know it feels like the world is against you right now, but you have to believe that there’s light at the end of the tunnel. As long as you’re alive, there’s a chance to make things better.”

  The boy nodded weakly, his grip on Leon’s shirt loosening as the weight of his emotions began to lift. For the first time, he looked at Leon with a flicker of hope, faint but real.

  Leon offered a small, reassuring smile and helped the boy to his feet. “We’ll figure this out,” he said softly. “Together.”

  The boy sat on the pavement, his knees drawn up to his chest, his face hidden behind trembling hands. His breathing was uneven, still caught in the aftermath of his earlier sobs. Leon knelt nearby, his gaze steady and calm as he gave the boy space to process everything. The air was cold, the faint hum of passing cars on the highway below filling the silence between them.

  “You don’t have to say anything,” Leon said softly, his voice careful not to break the fragile quiet. “But if you want to talk, I’ll listen. Sometimes, it helps to let it out.”

  The boy sniffled, his hands falling away from his face as he stared down at the cracked pavement. His shoulders shook slightly, his words coming out in a shaky whisper. “I... I don’t even know where to start.”

  “Start anywhere,” Leon said gently. “There’s no wrong place.”

  The boy hesitated, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. Then, as if a dam had broken, the words spilled out, his voice low and trembling.

  “It was a couple of years ago,” he began. “I’d just finished middle school, and... and I wanted to help my sister. She’s been taking care of me since forever. Our parents left us—just walked out one day and never came back.”

  Leon’s chest tightened at the boy’s words, but he said nothing, letting the boy continue.

  “She’s done everything for me,” the boy said, his voice cracking. “She works herself to death just to keep us going. I wanted to help her, you know? Make things easier for her. So, when these guys in the neighborhood said they had a job for me, I thought... why not?”

  “What kind of job?” Leon asked carefully, though he already had a sinking feeling about the answer.

  The boy’s fists clenched, his knuckles whitening. “Delivering packets. They said it was easy, something anyone could do. I didn’t ask questions—I just wanted the money. So I did it.”

  He let out a bitter laugh, one laced with regret. “I didn’t know what was in them. But when I finished, they took pictures of me holding the packets. Drugs. It was drugs.”

  Leon’s hands tightened slightly at his sides, his jaw clenching as the boy continued.

  “They said if I didn’t keep working for them, they’d send the pictures to the police. And when my sister found out... she tried to protect me. But that’s when they started asking for money. They said if she didn’t pay, they’d turn me in. They’ve been doing it ever since.”

  Leon exhaled slowly, the anger simmering in his chest aimed squarely at the faceless figures who had manipulated the boy. “How long has this been going on?” he asked quietly.

  “Two years,” the boy whispered. “Two years of them bleeding us dry. Every time we think it’s over, they raise the price. We went to the police once, but they couldn’t help. The Black Skulls are too big, too dangerous. And the heroes... they won’t come near us. It’s not worth the risk to them.”

  Leon’s heart ached at the boy’s despair. He could see the weight of it in the boy’s posture, in the way his voice trembled with every word. “And tonight?” he asked gently.

  The boy swallowed hard, tears welling in his eyes again. “Tonight, my sister and I have to go see them. To pay... again.”

  The words hung heavy in the air, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. Leon’s mind raced, a storm of anger, sorrow, and resolve churning within him. Finally, he broke the silence.

  “You thought ending your life would free her, didn’t you?” Leon said softly.

  The boy’s head snapped up, his tear-streaked face twisting with guilt and pain. “If I was gone, they’d leave her alone. She wouldn’t have to pay anymore. She could be free.”

  Leon leaned forward, placing a hand firmly on the boy’s shoulder. “No,” he said, his voice low but filled with conviction. “That’s not true. If you were gone, it wouldn’t free her. It would break her.”

  The boy flinched, his breath hitching as Leon continued.

  “She’s fighting so hard because she loves you. You’re the reason she’s holding on. She’s not just protecting you—she needs you. And you can’t leave her alone in this world. You have to protect her, just like she’s protecting you.”

  Tears spilled down the boy’s cheeks as his resolve crumbled. He buried his face in his hands, his sobs quiet but heart-wrenching. Leon moved closer, wrapping his arms around him in a firm, protective hug.

  “It’s going to be okay,” Leon murmured, his voice steady as he rubbed the boy’s back. “You’re not alone. I know it feels like the world is against you, but you have to keep going. No storm lasts forever. Things will get better. You just have to believe that.”

  The boy clung to Leon, his trembling body slowly beginning to relax as the words sank in. “I’m scared,” he whispered.

  “I know,” Leon said gently. “But you’re stronger than you think. And your sister—she’s stronger than you know. Together, you’ll get through this.”

  After a long moment, the boy’s sobs subsided, leaving behind the quiet hum of passing traffic. He wiped his face with his sleeve, his red-rimmed eyes still glassy but calmer.

  “We’re supposed to meet them soon,” the boy said softly, his voice heavy with resignation. “I don’t know what to do.”

  Leon reached for one of his briefcases, opening it carefully. From inside, he retrieved a small, spherical device, smooth and metallic, no larger than a golf ball. He held it out to the boy.

  “Take this,” Leon said, his voice firm but kind. “Keep it with you, no matter what. Think of it as a good luck charm.”

  The boy hesitated, staring at the device. “What is it?”

  “It’s something to keep you safe,” Leon replied with a faint smile. “Just trust me.”

  The boy took the sphere, cradling it in his hands as if it were something fragile and precious. His fingers tightened around it, his expression softening for the first time. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

  Leon offered him one last hug, his arms strong and reassuring. “Remember what I said,” he murmured. “Things will get better. I promise.”

  The boy nodded against Leon’s shoulder, his grip on the sphere firm. When they pulled apart, Leon rested a hand on the boy’s head, a small, encouraging smile on his face.

  “Take care of your sister,” Leon said softly. “And take care of yourself. You’re braver than you realize.”

  The boy nodded again, his eyes filled with a glimmer of hope. Leon picked up his briefcases, his movements deliberate but calm. He glanced back at the boy one last time, offering a reassuring smile before turning and walking away.

  As the shadows of Greyflint swallowed him, the boy watched him go, clutching the sphere tightly to his chest.