His first memory of smoking was a blur, and yet he lived it every night. Seventeen years ago, seventeen years of age. God, he was old. "Another," he said, staring into his empty glass. It was after his first day, it was always going to be after his first day. Back then, the First Response Unit was a handful of people who wanted to help people. None of them told him what it was like watching people die, holding someone's hand to comfort them, trying to dig a small girl with brown pigtails out from under rubble just for it to collapse on her...

Downing his refilled glass, he lit a cigarette, puffing out large clouds. "More."

After they returned to their station - they called it a shack - Henry offered him some tobacco rolled in paper, lighting one up right next to him. With each puff, Henry seemed to be put at ease, so he fell. All he seemed to be doing was falling, deeper and deeper. Where was his bottom? He quit after the week was done, struggling to live long enough for his next puff. Each one came by easier now, ever since he started working under Western Hold's Overlord, but he needed more to calm down. If he didn't get anything, then they came to him at night, their face's clear when his eyes shut.

Drink after drink went down his throat, and it worsened his thirst. On his last smoke, he crumpled the carton. It caved, giving out a satisfying crunch, but his other hand went to his glass, finding it empty.

"Give me another one," he said, growling.

"You've had too much, sir," said the bartender, wiping a small cup. "I can't let you have another, not without a passage of time."

"Are you kidding me? I'll pay when I'm done, not a moment before. That should be enough." Rising from his chair, he swooned on his feet, catching himself with an outstretched arm. "Come here one second, let's see what happens."

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

"Please don't make me call security."

"Let me guess, some Powered thugs deciding to laud their power for some cash. They must be needy, then, if they decided to work in this dump." Turning around so fast was a mistake, but he kept it all down. "Hey, everybody, this man's about to call some of those prick's to take care of me, instead of doing it himself. What a coward!"

By this point, everything turned quiet, all attention forced on them.

"Man, just leave them alone," someone said. "Yeah, we're just trying to have fun here." "You're being too much" "Just leave already" They continued saying words that attacked him, driving nails into his skull.

"Not one of you know anything!" he said, his voice drowning out everyone else's. "Powered's are terrorists. Giving one a job is like, is like being a Demon."

Again, everyone went quiet, mouths open with sentences unfinished.

Oh, God, he did not just say that. No way he said those words.

"Get out of this shop now." Metal clicking made him turn, finding a gun pointed at his face. "Leave"

"I didn't-"

"Out!" Everyone pushed him with their stares towards the door, exiting into cold open air on a dark night. Afraid to stand still, he started moving.

***

Cupping one's hands was meant to ask for a blessing, and that was what he was looking for; just a little warmth from everything that just happened. Even being so drunk the ground swirled, he thought he still had some control. "Stupid," he said to himself, hitting his forehead. It was, it was all... all Henry's fault. If he never started smoking, then maybe his life wouldn't have turned out like this. A bum, wandering the streets, now looking for nothing. Yes, he was onto something, he was sure about that. Henry must have messed up others's lives, for sure. He'd deserve whatever came to him.

"I'm a genius," he said, laughter escaping him. Until he arrived in his musty apartment filled with trash, he kept repeating his epiphany, using whatever he could to find out everything about Henry. "Mama Henry has a fault, too, for raising such a child, but his father's already gone. No brother's, no sister's, unfortunate for him, nobody to steer him to good. Don't you worry, Henry, because I'll be your ship. Even if you don't like it."