I hated this.

No, that was an understatement. I loathed this in ways that humanity hadn’t yet discovered were possible.

Being here, in the Isle of Heroes, the disgustingly lavish mansions of Atlantis so close that I could smell them, their students littering the streets. And to top it all off, I had to deal with Rosita being uncharacteristically chipper and giggling like a schoolgirl at my misfortune, her cousin ranting about whatever doom he wanted to bring to the world and his followers acting like he was the messiah.

Not to mention I could feel Crisis’ boot on my neck, even if I hadn’t seen him or heard from him in quite some time. Getting out of the prison was one thing, Iron Jaw ended up being more than willing to help, but everything else?

Everything else was the reason I had to get out of the small apartment complex we hijacked and sit in this small cafe. I needed a break.

“Can I get you anything, sir?” asked a young girl–I use the word young, but she likely wasn’t even five years my junior. I just looked older with my white hair, and chose to lean into it.

“Just an iced tea, thanks,” I said with a small smile. I looked at the people going about their business. It was a quiet corner of the island, with old looking buildings, and kind, pleasant people going about their business in front of my very eyes.

Without meaning to sound like a broken record, I hated it.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

In the world of tomorrow, in my world, they wouldn’t be trapped here, weak. The pleasantness and kindness they had to use in order to survive in this world would be eliminated.

But ranting in my head about my ideologies wasn’t any way to relax. The lady from before brought me my tea, and I chose to just sit back and enjoy it. After everything I’d done, and everything I would have to do, a moment of peace was just what I needed.

It was at that point that someone dragged a chair from a nearby table and sat down next to me. It was an older woman, I would say she was in her sixties, holding a newspaper in her hand and smiling cordially at me.

“I’d rather be left alone, ma’am,” I said in as much kindness as I could. She just smiled at me and handed the newspaper to me. I just looked at it and back at her, not sure about what to do.

“You might just find something you’re interested in, in there,” she said in what I assumed was meant to be a sagely voice, although it came off more senile than anything.

Still, I decided to humour her, and took the paper. A small piece of paper fell out of it and on my lap. I picked it up and tried to hand it to her. She shook her head and motioned for me to read what was on it.

I let out a deep sigh, but I couldn’t lose my cool. I didn’t want to draw any attention to myself. So I looked at it. It had only a single sentence written in it.

He’s free.

What?

“I don’t understand what this means,” I said to her.

“You wouldn’t,” she said absentmindedly. “Let’s see, what do you know him as? What was it? Ah yes. Order.”

I dropped the paper.

“What did you say?” I hissed out at her.

She just smiled. “You challenged him. Quite boldly, might I add,” she said. “Gather your forces. He wants to meet.”