Olympus District
One night after the explosionIt was part miracle and dumb luck that Miles Bergeron stumbled to his apartment door. The hallway, thankfully empty, he allowed himself a breath--albeit painfully-- while finding his keys. Was this mask supposed to actually hinder his vision? Or were those tears? Miles shook his head, ripping the mask from his face and furiously pawed through his bag.
When he’d stowed it away, he’d dedicated at least one pocket to his wallet, keys and phone. His “Essentials” should all else go wrong.
The emergency seal he’d placed on his body, numbing his pain was wearing off. The seal was old, part of a stash from his Great grandmother’s Civil War medic nurse days. It’s magic was probably all leaked after this many years. But hell, it was the best he could get currently.
“Why are there so many pockets on this damn
Swiss Gear backpack?” he hissed to himself, finally feeling a familiar electronic in a random pocket. Finally!
Click.Miles’ face drooped, his bag dropping to the floor as the door unlocked and the seconds drawled on as it began to open. His mother stood before him, a stoic mixture of agonized worry, relief and biblical rage laced over her face.
’God, if you kill me now, I’ll agree to smiting duty for all eternity.’He risked swallowing the anxious saliva that had accumulated in his mouth. A sign of weakness, and he was lost because of it.
“What.” His mother stated. It wasn’t actually a question. A question implied that the recipient had the option of not answer. This was not the case in Claire Bergeron’s presence, her arms folded. She rested slightly on one hip. Still in her scrubs, she gave off none of the warm cuddliness as the colorful cloud hippos would imply.
“I uh--” He tried lamely.
“Go ahead,” she challenged him. “Get ya lie together.”
“I only went on the roof of the Rivington Publishing tower and--” his body cut him off this time, seeing to revolt at the tale he tried to weave. The pain flared in his side, the seal worn down officially and down he began to go. A grunt finished the rest of his words as he fell to his side.
His mother’s maternal rage was overridden by the all powerful need to protect her young. She caught him, her yelp shrill in his ear though. It was painful in a way he didn’t expect. She pulled him close and cradled him for a brief moment.
“Miles!” her voice was stern, but filled with concern. She was checking to see if he was conscious, and squeezed him for a response while she carried him into the house. Though barely larger in frame than him, she was deceptively strong. “What did you do?”
He tried to answer, but everything hit him at once. The fatigue, pain, relief and fear--how close had he actually been to dying!? It all rushed Miles at once, bringing velvet black of unconsciousness in its tow.
---
When he opened his eyes, he could tell it was still dark. He was in his bed now, and felt his Hero clothes gone. A start to get up reminded him of his side and he panicked...until he realized it was no longer there.
“Oh, don’t act surprised,” a voice said beside him, “you knew I would.” His mother came into his room, a glass of water in hand. “I Scanned and found a cracked rib. A cracked rib! Miles, what the
hell were you thinking?”
Miles shifted uncomfortably, that weird pain from before--when he’d heard her yelp--hit him again. “I…”
“Not to mention the general strain on your body.” She handed him the water before turning toward his bedroom window. “I know I raised your black ass to act better than this. To have more
sense than this. We’ve
had this talk, Miles.
He looked at the sheet he rested on, a familiar inscription seal woven into it. His mom’s handy Healing Mat. “Yes, you’re all healed up, though I debated keepin’ your as laid up. You have no
idea how stupid that was of you, do you?” her voice was shrill again, though she tried to hide it.
His mom was still scared.
That pain hit Miles, but he still objected “I wasn’t being stupid!”
“Then what would you call it, Miles Alexander?” The panic in her voice was full blown now.
“I saved a man’s life tonight, ma.
I did that,” Miles told her, smiling despite the moment. “You do it all the time.”
His mother’s figure softened, and her words held no anger when she spoke again. “Hun, you know it’s not the same…”
“Yeah I know, ma. It’s just…” Miles struggled to find his words. “That’s how you help the world and save people. And I just feel like…
this is what I can do, at least for now.” He tried to say more but his mother’s embrace broke his train of thought.
“I was worried
sick, Miles,” she whispered. “You can’t keep doing this to me.”
He knew, and he felt terrible for making her worry. But what else could he do?
The life of a Hero on the Rise is never simple.
Izurich,
Lord Wraith,
Crimson Flame,
Mixtape Ghost N
