Chương 99: Shadows

We ended up organizing a spot to meet: The building where I fought Hidalgo. I had a few reasons. The first was that it was abandoned, which takes out the majority of the population from stopping by. The second was that due to the police being there recently any criminal activity would be cut short and thus remove the criminal population. Finally: It was a concrete building. There were no trees nearby. No ADU to listen. I got there first.

Was completely costumed up, only thing out of the norm was the bandage on my neck from the bullet graze. Took what time I likely had to arrange some sort of area for the interview as a way to kill time. There was a chair and a box for seats, but I wasn't sure if anything else would be needed. Would he just record on his phone? I had no idea. From there, I just sat on the box and waited for maybe half an hour, just quietly petting at Shivvy until the door was pushed open.

Adam was dressed in some kind of leisure suit. Just made him look like he was from the wrong time. The messy hair and tired eyes also made it seem like he almost forgot, which would have really pissed me off if that were the case. The only thing contemporary about what he wore was a backpack he brought with him.

"…Good ambience," he called out, glancing around.

"Any reason for the creepy abandoned warehouse?"

"Only place I knew would be quiet," I admitted, letting go of Shivvy. He basically melted out of my arms and started exploring the warehouse proper. I trusted he wouldn't cause any serious harm, I fed him plenty before we left.

"Anywhere else could have ADU, or random thugs, or even just a homeless guy looking to make money by selling out details about what's happening here."

"Well, if you're sure. Not the worst place I've interviewed at, to be honest," he explained. I cocked my head.

"What was the worst?"

"Back room of a mattress store. Creepy as Hell, I swear they're all money-laundering fronts." He sat down onto the chair I left available, reaching into his backpack and pulling out a tape recorder.

"So, I'm more than happy to do the interview, but I've got an off-the-record question first."

"Go ahead."

"Why did you change your mind? You were ignoring me all week, and didn't seem interested when Buzzbird first posed the question to you during that whole crab thing." My hand instinctively went to touch at the bandage on my neck, reminding me of the warmth of my own blood. How I had to start counting every move I made by the minutes of bleedout I was risking going through with every stressing of my body.

"I…" I trailed off.

"There was this attack by the ADU. A sniper was there. A bullet grazed my neck. I thought I was dying for a second. And that just… I didn't want to-" The words felt hard to say. Like I was trying to swallow them back in. But there was no more hiding anymore. No biting my tongue.

"I didn't want to die without anyone really knowing who I am. With only my mask being remembered," I explained. Adam crossed his arms, nodding.

"That makes sense. A lot of heroes have these near-misses that really make them rethink things. How they want to approach their lives. You're probably seeing this interview as your last will a-" As he spoke, I yanked my mask off of me, holding it in my hands. His eyes bulged out of his head.

"Whoa, whoa, no!" He recoiled, practically, shutting his eyes afterwards and covering his face.

"You've gotta keep your identity a secret, man! I imagine you've got your mask off back home with your teammates but I'm just a random guy!"

"It's fine. I don't really have any loved ones or family that would be in danger. I'm an orphan," I explained with a bit of a morbid chuckle to it. Was the first time I really noticed how on my own I really was, even with my team.

"If you can't go through with the interview because of that, I understand."

"You really shouldn't be doing that anyway. It means you can't go about your business in your personal life at all! You've got terrorists mad at you, dude!"

"Look," I started.

"If I die, then no one would even know who I was anyway without this interview. I don't want this to just be the Hercules interview. I want an interview with me, Leo Holt. That's who dies if Hercules dies." He sat quiet, still covering his gaze, before slowly trailing into his words.

"…Look. If I do this, I can't publish the interview. I do not publish hero identities at all."

"Then don't publish it. But please record it. Please. And if I die, you can publish it and not worry about compromising my identity. But this won't work for me if I can't be myself. My real self." Another lingering silence. After about a minute or so, Adam finally lowered his hands and opened his eyes.

"…You're so lucky I'm always on the hunt for a story. But is this really what you want?"

"Yeah. This…" I looked off to the side. Towards the area where Hidalgo dived down and killed a bunch of people trying to fight me.

"This isn't the first time I've nearly died. Happened a few times before. But this is the first time in a long time it felt close. And I felt… I felt something I hadn't felt since the first time. Only a little bit of what I felt then."

"…When was the first time?" He asked, his face souring a little.

"I was nine. Was sick. Deathly sick. And I fell asleep and I had this… this dream. Some force sucking and pulling away at me, while I was reaching out for a childhood toy of mine. If I gave up, if I let that force suck me away, I was going to die. I knew it. Just instinctively." You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. My grip tensed around the mask. Just like before, no matter how hard I gripped it, it just wouldn't bend or break.

"All I could see was the back of my hand while I reached out for that toy. I didn't want to die. Not because I wanted the toy but…" My gaze moved back to Adam. I didn't care if he saw the tears forming.

"… It's something I've always felt. I can't remember a lot of my life. But I remember this. It's never changed in me. It's always been who I am. But I know if I died then, and there, I'd never be able to help anyone. Even before I had powers, I know I just wanted to help people. Do everything I could for them. That I lived for others. I can't remember why or how but I fucking remember it. My brain won't let me remember the rest, but that sits with me. That fantasy of being able to help others."

I took a deep inhale, fighting off the burning in the back of my throat as I spoke. Memories I had buried in me, the shadows of them, crossed my mind like a carousel. These hazy images of standing in front of bullies, retrieving lost items from trees while fighting off a burning in my lungs, consoling crying foster siblings.

"I promised myself in that moment I'd never let anyone be out of my reach. That I wasn't going to give in and die there before I ever had the chance to help anyone else. Trying to keep that promise was what kept me alive, I think." Another inhale, just trying to get air back into my lungs. More memories. Staying behind for a slow kid so he wouldn't be left by himself while the others raced on foot to some destination that didn't matter. Taking food off my plate and putting it on another's.

"It wasn't to the same scale. And it only sat with me for just a second. But I felt that all again in that moment. That if I died I wouldn't be able to stop the ADU. To help people. To stop those who choose to harm others. I knew I could never let that happen." Breathing could only be done through my mouth. My sinuses were so flared that nothing could really get in or out.

"I've spent this whole time trying to justify myself to others. Reacting, to others. People only ever see me for what I do in response to others. I'm not interested in this interview being just me bragging about myself. I don't give a shit about myself, Adam." Another inhale. Having to apologize for accidentally tearing doorknobs off. Crushing utensils between my fingers. Dust and debris in the air as I stumbled clear through a wall. For whatever reason, a smile started pulling at my lips.

"I just want people to know who I am and what I want to be. What I want to do. What I've been through." More recent memories. Chris smiling at me over some corny joke he made. His face straightening out when he recognized that there was evil to fight, and people to save, and that I was the only one who took it as seriously as him. May's little touches and attempts to get my attention whenever I lost focus in a conversation, finding it almost funny.

The look of terror on her face from losing her leg, aimed at me as she knew that I was going to do everything to save her. Jairo trying to show me all the silly things that entertained him on his phone, videos of strange jokes and nonsensical stumbles. The echo of his voice that was nearly in tears as he told me he nearly lost everything, and how there was a chance for him to get it all back if I stood alongside him.

Sam's hand on my head, causing me to shudder over a warmth I hadn't felt since I was a child, being consoled the closest thing to a motherly figure in my life. The look of dread and despair at every angle painted on her when she realized she betrayed my trust, hurt me, and used me as an example to avoid and fear, and realizing she was treating me like yet another experiment.

Tancred chiding and scolding me for every wrong step or misunderstanding I made as I tried my hardest to finally be something close to a living, independent person for the first time in a long time. The sudden silence and pondering of when I told him about the losing of my memories, where there was no glare behind his glasses or any sign of gears turning for how he could spin it against me, but instead for a split second that wannabe-evil facade cracking over the boy he dragged into Hell.

They all tried to recognize me, and it was the closest I ever got to doing what felt right. For anyone else, maybe that would be enough. But I knew much of the world still saw the blood on my hands. How when everyone else was all smiles and poses and public appearances, I always lingered off to the side. Just like I did when I was in the foster home. It wasn't fair to me to never get my side out. To always have to react to something and not just put out everything that could be reacted to.

I was a person that shouldn't have to prove he existed. Just by talking about myself, the proof would be made. And it wasn't fair for them to only ever see one side of the whole picture. They could hate me all they wanted after, but they deserved to know everything. Not just what showed up on their TVs or in their newspapers.

"Do you really care about being published more than I care about letting people react to me instead of the other way around?" Adam's face went stony. Hard. Before there was this looseness to it, like he was trying to be expressive and sociable even for harsher topics. But now, with eyes that glowered through me and a completely still countenance, it was like he was almost a different person.

"Leo, I can't interview you," he stated. My heart sunk deep into my stomach.

"But you're getting interviewed by someone." He lifted up his bag, digging into it and pulling out… fabric. White fabric. A mask? Slipping it on his head, the way it pressed up his hair and accented his face, I recognized him immediately. He was-"Buzzbird?" I blurted out, my body not knowing whether to tense up in frustration or loosen up from recognizing the guy who tried helping me before.

"Yeah. The Forces of Nature does not have an independent media guy. I just… was lucky enough to get superpowers from nuclear-powered radio equipment and now they have a radio host working with them." He slipped his mask back off, his face softening.

"I love superheroes, Leo. I was there at your press conference. The idea of superheroes, young superheroes, getting a chance from the government to do good and giving us unregistered guys a standard to work alongside and prove our worth was the best thing I'd heard of in a while." I was still processing the surprise as he spoke.

"You're being so damn honest with me, it's not right that I wasn't being honest with you the whole time. It's only really fair to you if we both have our identities on the table." He began to smile.

"And I know, about how you feel. About having to always react to things and never have others react to you. I'm a disc jockey. It's half my job. So if you're going to be interviewed, you're not getting interviewed by Witty from The Katt. You're getting interviewed by Adam Witts, Buzzbird. This is going to be your private confession. Your last will and testament. No one will hear this unless you die. Is that okay?" I immediately nodded.

"Yes. Please. Let's do this." He nodded.

"Okay. Let's get this interview started."