We exit through the front of the apartment gate onto the relatively lifeless streets. Here, we keep running, heading nowhere, going to a place determined only to be 'as far away as possible.' We remain awhile, in that state until an idea props to mind.

"Let's take the tube."

"The tube?"

"Subway, metro, whatever you foreigners call it".

"Oh, you mean the tunnel plane?"

...

Yeah. The tunnel plane... Right....

Suppressing a smile, I nod. Weird shenanigans can come later. Until we reach a safe place, I'm not going to bother amusing myself.

I lead him by virtue of slight nudges to a street. In the distance, maybe another minute of running away appears none other than a green gate of sorts. An arch propped up by two metal poles.

I nod to him, signifying its significance.

Time passes.

We arrive at a brick staircase, descend downwards, and make our way across a low-ceiling hall. There, things go as custom, that being the acquisition of tickets (hey, I am a somewhat law-abiding citizen), walking through gates, and catching the next tube to god knows where.

Eventually, we enter a tube. Wide enough to accommodate five people in a line and just high enough for me not to bump my head.

Pleasant.

Of everything in Kingsville, public transportation would probably rank near the top. Partially due in part to how recently it was constructed and partially due to the people here being more civilised in general.

"Hwooo."

I exhale.

Man.

Plopping myself on a nearby seat, I attempt to rest for a bit.

Attempt, mind you.

Attempt, as in, attempt to ignore the boy who so chose to sit next to me despite all the space available (that being dozens of seats).

"Thanks."

My appreciation rings with an earnest breath.

"A pure-hearted hero of justice needs no thanks!"

Movement.

He begins to 'exert' himself in his seat, and I can spot him bobbing slightly upon my word.

No need for thanks, my arse.

"Honestly, you did pretty good, kid. You were pretty quick out there. Seems like you know a thing or two about fighting, eh?"

"Well, my quick thinking and acting skills are pretty cool!"

"Yes, quite the bit of melodrama you incorporated," I say, pausing to think of something complimentary to add. "You would make a pretty good actor."

The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

"Oh, really?!"

"Yeah, for sure."

"Hmm. Maybe I really need to look into it!"

"May-be, may-be."

My praise seems to have genuinely reached him.

Funny.

His whole demeanour to me and our situation is just so... Peculiar. He's innocent sure. Hell, he reacts like a typical kid. Getting all excited over little compliments and flaunting that 'pure-hearted hero' gimmick.

Yet, that's not all there is to it.

Interlocked with that innocence is a willingness.

A lack of hesitation to engage in violence.

That's the strange part.

To fight is one thing. To skewer and burn a woman alive without indecision is another.

"I don't think I can become an actor". He says suddenly. "I heard movies and stuff take a long time to film, and I'm a full-time hero, so there's not a lot of time for that..."

Offhandedly, I suggest to "Quit being a hero then."

"I can't do that."

"Why not?"

"Because!" He stands up, yelling as he does. "As a pure-hearted hero of justice, my number one priority and goal is to protect smiles like yours!"

Pure.

That's the word he keeps using.

The more he repeats it in reference to himself, the more I'm inclined to believe it might be true.

This is a unique case for me. Somehow, despite his obvious immaturity and age, I respect him. Not many people can do what he does. And not many people would even approve.

Far from it.

Most people would denounce him as insane.

Fighting for your country and lord is acceptable, but not what he does. No. In the public eye, this type of 'charity' is for fools or idiots. The surprise is then that I would disagree.

Frankly, I can see why he does it.

If he's enjoying himself and pursuing his dreams, then who am I to judge? Who am I to question such a pure-hearted goal?

Nobody. That's who.

"We should be discussing what to do next, right?" I say.

Somehow, I only just now realised that fact. I'm being chased by a lunatic woman who can regenerate from being burned alive. Weird to think about, really.

"Good point! So, how do we kill her?"

"You have some kind of magic that can just disintegrate her or something?"

"Unfortunately, no! What've you seen is pretty much all I've got."

Hm. That does put us in a tricky position. Honestly, this is quite exciting. Who knew coming up with a way to outsmart and kill your enemies could be this fun?

"Well, from the way it seems. She has some auto-regenerative spell or manifestation that allows her to come back from just about anything unscathed."

"Yep," I add, quite meaninglessly, might I add.

"In that case!" He exclaims, raising a finger. "We have to kill her in one hit!"

"Fine point you make; shame we don't know how to do that.

He stops, resting a hand on his chin.

"Why don't we throw her off a building?" I say, and then as if dismissing that idea, shrug. "Gravity happens to be quite good at killing."

"Hm. That does sound pretty convincing!"

"So, it's decided. We find some high-rise point and get her off."

We seem to reach a consensus.

"Actually, there is something else worth pointing out."

Or not.

"Remember that glowing green light in her body?"

Huh. Oh, wait. He's referring to that conveniently shining light that just so happened to appear when she was on fire.

"Yeah, I do."

"Sorry to ask, but can you rip into her chest and get it out?"

"What?" I stop. Did he just ask what I think he did?

"So basically, I think that the glowing thing is the source of her magic. Like some sort of heart which is pumping blood. Though in this case, pumping her regeneration."

"Are you suggesting I somehow just rip it out barehanded?"

"I'm suggesting that after we throw her off the building, and her body is a mess, that you rip it out bare-handed."