His name was Justin Kerr. And he was his own worst enemy.

Justin’s lanky frame was covered with a plain black hoodie, ragged off-brand navy blue jeans and a pair of worn-out white sneakers. In the bustling New York City, people hardly gave him a second glance— his long, black hair was mostly concealed by his hoodie, and his high cheekbones were counterbalanced by his skinny face, making him look more sickly than attractive. If one thing stood out despite his attempts to stay as inconspicuous as possible, it was his brilliant red eyes. But in this day and age, most people just attributed it to color-changing contact lenses, the question “is it natural?” easily rebuffed by a short, curt, “No.”

Just three more days.

Three more days until he could escape this hellhole.

Not that Justin hated his city. Or for that matter, his country. He had no problems with either.

He was the problem.

It was all planned out. Three days later, he’d be on a plane to Phuket, Thailand. His parent’s inheritance wasn’t enough for him to live in the heart of New York City without working, at least not for the rest of his life. The tourist part of thailand though, was a different matter. Inflation adjusted, he could spend a good fifty, maybe sixty years without worrying about a thing, if he kept expenditure to a reasonable level.

Not that he didn’t want to work, in his present condition he was simply wasn’t fit to work.

Crime wasn’t really a problem in the tourist parts of Thailand, and Justin probably wouldn’t be doing much stepping out anyway. A small beach house that belonged to him in its entirety, where he could live the rest of his life as a recluse wasn’t the future he had in mind as a child, but he’d take it over his current circumstances.

“Three days,” Justin let out a whisper, a prayer, to whoever out there was listening. A prayer to let these last three days be uneventful.

A distant, characteristic siren of a fire truck rang out, interrupting Justin’s musings.

Justin’s hands started twitching, his eyes rapidly blinking as he wondered if he had misheard. He strained his hearing in an attempt to confirm, regretting his decision instantly— the sound was distant, barely audible, but it was there. And it drew closer with each passing second.

‘See no evil. Do no evil,’ Justin chanted in his mind, a beat of sweat falling down his forehead as he found himself on the verge of hyperventilating. It was how he had lived the first eighteen years of his life. Hear a gunshot? Run in the opposite direction, like any normal, sane man would. See a guy getting beat up by four men wearing black masks? Walk past them and pretend you saw nothing, like any normal, sane man would. Maybe call the police from a pay phone once you were way out of their sight. Maybe. It was none of his business. He wasn’t some trained professional with military training, just a lanky kid who would be getting beat up next to the other guy if he tried to interfere. He wasn’t a bad man. He wasn’t evil. He donated to charity every month. He just pretended not to see evil, because he wasn’t the one propogating it— the guilt wasn’t his.

“Just walk away. Please… someone, give me the strength to walk away,” Justin pleaded, his voice barely a whisper, as a small tear trickled down his right eye. Fragments of painful memories flashed in his mind as his mind forced him to remember the last time he’d chosen to ignore evil. In the grand scheme of things, Justin was rational enough to understand what his interference meant…. smart enough to understand that in all likelihood, it would’ve just meant one more victim in a bag.

That didn’t mean he wouldn’t trade away the world to try.

“Fuck!” Justin released a furious scream full of agony and sorrow, before breaking out into a manic laugh. The stream of people flowing around him were disturbed by his outburst, their little bubbles of consciousness interrupted by his loud, obvious cry for help. They paused for a few seconds, before they stepped around him and went about their business— not a single one stopping to ask if he was alright as their consciousness marked him as with a ‘do not approach’ tag.

Justin didn’t hold any condemnation or even the slightest trickle of hate for these people, because they just reminded him of who he used to be. What ‘normal’ used to be.

In all honestly, Justin had never understood the concept of a ‘hero’ until now, not with the clarity he had now. He had never understood the one man who stood up against a group of armed robbers, maybe taking out one before he got shot. He never understood the man who jumped on the rail tracks to rescue another passenger that had tripped and fallen inside.

But now, on the verge of his craziest act of vigilantism yet, Justin understood. Perhaps it was different for others, perhaps some men were just born with noble hearts. But for Justin, the process of becoming a hero was laughably simple: you just had to lose everything.

Justin clenched his fists, before he took off in the direction of the fire engine, weaving through the crowded NYC street as fast as he physically could.

Twenty minutes later, Justin reached the street the fire engine’s blaring horns had led him to. His face paled as he saw the four storey red-brick building engulfed by a blazing inferno of flames, giving the impression of one, massive fireball than four distinct flames. He had arrived just in time to see the steel scaffolding that provided an exit in case of emergencies melt away before crashing to the side with a loud bang, startling him.

Justin gritted his teeth as he continued his sprint until he arrived near a crowd that had formed a safe distance away from the building. Instead of making any rash decisions, he took time to analyse the situation. His goal was to help, instead of being a hindrance, so he paused and took the time to catch his breath, as he focused his hearing.

Justin didn’t know why, but after the ‘incident’ his hearing had improved greatly, to the extent where he sometimes wondered if he was imagining things. But so far, his hearing hadn’t failed him, and as long as he stopped focusing it simply went back to how it used to be, so Justin didn’t make any attempt to consult a doctor.

The first thing he picked up was the crowd’s chatter, a bunch of people expressing their sympathy, but the majority of them seemed to be largely clueless regarding the situation. It was noon on a work-day, and the from the looks of it the apartments seemed to be small, one bedroom accommodations— understandable, in a city as expensive as NYC.

Then his focus shifted to the the building, hoping, praying, that he would find no cries full of agony. Justin waited. And waited.

A minute passed before he managed to isolate the roar of the fire, barely able to make out the distant, faint crying of an infant.

“No…,” Justin whispered to himself, as his hands started trembling. What… what was an infant doing alone in an apartment? A babysitter? Or was the mother already…. No…

Justin’s panicked gaze shifted to the fire fighters, who frienziedly tried to tame the flames with their powerful waterhoses.

“Does anyone know anything about the residents? Can anyone confirm if there is still anyone inside the building?” The fifth firefighter loudly asked the crowd of bystanders, only to receive no response.

Justin’s pupils dilated as adrenaline flowed through his veins, going through the impromptu plan he had cobbled up in his mind a few times before he yelled out, “Get out of my fucking way! My sister’s in there.”

The startled crowd immediately parted to allow him through, as Justin charged forward with a grief stricken face that came to him naturally, when he tried.

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The fire fighter, who had stayed back to manage the crowd and try to confirm if there were any residents stuck in the building, immediately intercepted Justin’s path as he had hoped.

Justin halted in his tracks, his face panting as he drew closer to the fireman with tears in my eyes.

“My sister, she’s inside! Please, you’ve got to help her!” He screamed, making sure he remained in character.

“Calm down, son. Can you tell me which floor your house is on?” His voice was soothing and gentle as he placed a firm hand on Justin’s shoulder.

“Third floor,” Justin answered, his expression growing paler as the baby’s cry grew a little less distant. That was the best estimate he could give based on what he’d heard.

The fireman immediately relayed the information to his companions through radio, but Justin could see the look of tragic pity reflected in the fireman’s eyes—- the same eyes his neighbours had looked at him with when they heard the news. Justin truly thanked the men, who were far nobler than he could ever be, for their service. But he also acknowledged reality, and understood that they would never believed his claims—-even Justin was unsure how the child was still alive in the blazing inferno.

He gave one final glance to the other firemen, who continued hosing the building down with water without making any attempt to enter the building.

It was a death sentence. He understood that.

‘Sorry,’ Justin thought, as he looked the fireman dead in the eyes.

“Look down,” Justin said.

“Son, what are you…?” The fireman asked, but his expression immediately paled when he saw the sleek metallic gun held in Justin’s hands.

“You’re not going to save her, are you?” Justin asked, his voice not containing any recrimination or judgement for these noble men, just the cold, bitter truth.

“Son, calm do-,” The fireman tried to respond, but Justin cut him off.

“The mask and the jacket. Now,” Justin commanded, and the fireman’s eyes widened in shock as he understood Justin’s intentions.

A melange of pity and fear congealed together to form a conflicted expression on his face, as he found himself unable to decide what to do.

“Son, you don’t have to do this. Just… just give us some time. Don’t throw your life away,” he begged, still concerned about the wellbeing of the young man who had a gun to his abdomen.

“I understand that. Which is why I didn’t give you a choice. Now your mask and your hat, or…..,” Justin left the rest of the sentence as an implication, his voice down to a whisper to make sure the crowd didn’t get alarmed.

The fireman ultimately took off his mask and jacket, handing it over to Justin with guilt in eyes. The odd actions attracted the crowd’s attention, but Justin just waved his gun in the air.

Panic broke out as the crowd immediately dispersed in random directions, thankfully small enough that no one was injured as they tried to get away.

Justin immediately donned the fire jacket before jamming the mask upon his head, giving the fireman one final look.

“Remember, the choice was mine. You were forced at gunpoint. This guilt is not for you to bear,” Justin gave the man a heartfelt apology, before he slowly backed away, gun still in hand. Then he charged headlong in the direction of the blazing appartment building, the remaining firefighters unable to break away from their waterhoses to stop him.

When merely two meters separated him from the half burnt door, Justin leapt forward with his shoulder first.

Fire was an element that was commonly used to sustain human life. For cooking, to provide heat, smelting, forging, industrial use… the list was a long one. However, had Justin been more acquainted with the true terror of fire, perhaps he would not have the courage to leap forward.

Justin cried out in horror as he tumbled forward through the wall of flames, the searing hot flames licking the sides of his bunker suit. He immediately felt the fresh air he was used to breathing be replaced with a thick, roiling black smoke that was a mixture of burnt plastics, organic substances like wood and mortar.

He broke out into a coughing fit as he was forced to breath in the smoke despite the mask’s filtration capabilities, tears pouring out of his eyes as it made contact with the harsh smoke due to his suit not being properly sealed.

His grip loosened and his high quality airsoft gun fell to the ground, but Justin was in no position to care for such trivialities. The intense, roiling heat of the flames had began to melt the soles of justin’s sneakers, and another thick wave of fire separated him from the common staircase.

The only thing that kept him sane in the chaos was the continuous, annoyingly irritating cry of the infant.

Justin laughed, in a fit of what could be only described as madness, as the child’s cry brought clarity to him— suddenly he could see through the thick smoke, the wooden stairwell still relatively intact. He was almost convinced that he was hallucinating, but ultimately it didn’t matter— all this while, all those acts of vigilantism, he was just looking for the stage for his final act, his final strokes before he parted with the world.

Perhaps the almighty had granted him his wish, or perhaps this was just his destiny.

He would be the hero he had never gotten.

His sacrifice would not be in vain.

The smoke stung his lungs no longer. Tears no longer poured through his eyes. Justin took step after step in a frenzied trance, leaping over collapsed portions of the stairwell without hesitation. Each step brought him closer to the infant’s cries. His left arm caught fire, but in that moment Justin felt no pain. He understood that he would not come back from this, but his only intention was to give his sacrifice meaning.

And then he was on the third floor.

A charred corpse was the first thing that greeted his sight. Justin should have felt revulsion in that moment, but in the trance like state he was, he simply walked past it. The child was all that mattered.

Fifteen meters separated him from the child, and he understood why the child had survived. It was a miracle. But even miracles had their limits. The cruel flames snaked towards the infant’s crib, the pink, wooden structure the only installation left unscathed by its touch.

Justin was too late.

“No. No… NO!!!!!!!!!!!!” Justin howled at the top of his lungs, as memories came flooding back like a burst dam. He had chosen inaction, and he had paid the price. Now he chose to take action, and once again fate dared to scorn him.

Fury welled up in Justin’s veins, such torrential anger that in that moment, Justin felt like he could destroy the world. Destroy the world that tempted him with such cruelty, destroy the cruel mistress that fate could be. Burn, Burn it all to ash and dust. Burn it all until it was naught but a smouldering husk, a fragment of its past glory.

In that moment, Justin realized that the pain was gone. Had…. had he died? In fact, as his anger and adrenaline began to fade away, Justin realized that he did not break out into a coughing fit. The air was as clean and pure as it has always been, if not purer.

But the infant’s cries were still there, albeit a little less irritated now.

Afraid and unsure, Justin opened his eyes.

He was still within the gutted room. The infant child was still in its crib, fifteen odd meters away from him. But the flames….. the flames….. had stilled. Not died out miraculously, but stilled. The flames were in statis. His wounds were gone. Or perhaps they had never existed.

Justin…. For some reason, justin knew that the flames would not harm him. He walked forward, the statis-flames smothered to nothingness each time he stepped upon them. He walked forward and picked up the crying infant, hugging her small body to her chest. Within her, he found salvation.

His gaze shifted to the flames, the new target for his rage. His anger flared.

“Disappear,” he commanded, his voice coming out far more gravelly than he intended. Justin did not understand what was happening, but in that moment he understood one thing: his command was absolute.

The flames that had engulfed the entire building in its torrential embrace simply winked out in an instant.

Justin broke out into a slow, muffled sob as he proceeded down the gutted building, handling the little infant with the utmost care and willing to defend her with his life. The police would take her away from him, he understood that, but that was better for her. A few minutes later he walked out from the building, his bunker suit half burnt and his mask discarded, to the sight of five stunned firemen who remained rooted to the spot and stared at him as if…. They were unsure if they had witnessed a divine miracle of a ghost.

A second later, however, their attention shifted to the blue screens that had popped up in front of them, causing them to flinch.

Justin’s gaze too, shifted to the screen that had popped up in front of him, but he held the infant close to his heart despite being startled.

[Unique Calling: Emberlain awakened.]

[Conditions for initialization satisfied.]

[Randomization Protocol commencing in…..5,4,3,2,1!]

Justin’s last thought as the world went white, or rather instinct was, to hold on to the infant with every single fiber of his being.