Alex Barnes was not your typical superhero. In fact, if you asked Alex to describe himself, he would use words like “ordinary,” “forgettable,” and “decidedly un-heroic.” He was the kind of guy who’d watch a scary movie and make plans to never leave his house again. He lived in a small, cramped apartment in the middle of Greendale City, worked at a tech support call center, and spent most of his free time binge-watching shows and eating microwave dinners. The closest Alex got to being a hero was fixing someone’s WiFi when it was acting up.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, settings, and events are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
The Hero Who Never Tried
But fate, as it turned out, had other plans.
It all started on an ordinary Monday morning. Alex was late for work—again. He sprinted down the street, one shoe untied, his shirt half tucked in, and his mind fully focused on making it to the office without his boss firing him for tardiness. As he crossed the road, a shiny, high-tech van skidded around the corner, heading straight for an elderly man crossing with his walker.
Alex didn’t think—in fact, his body seemed to move on autopilot. He leaped across the pavement and knocked the old man out of harm’s way. The van, unable to stop in time, smashed into a nearby fire hydrant. Water sprayed everywhere, soaking Alex to the bone as he lay on the sidewalk, staring at the bewildered elderly man.
“Thank you, young man! You saved my life!” the old man said, his wrinkled face breaking into a smile.
Alex blinked. “I… did?”
A crowd gathered, cheering and clapping. Someone yelled, “Hero!” and before Alex knew it, people were patting him on the back, taking selfies with him, and calling him a saviour.
In the chaos, Alex noticed something strange. The van that had almost hit the old man was now lying in pieces, and there was something glowing inside. The crowd seemed oblivious, too caught up in their hero-worship. Alex, however, was more interested in what shiny object might be hidden in the wreckage.
He crept over to the van, pretending to adjust his soaked shirt. The glowing object was small—a metal cube, pulsating with bright blue light. Before Alex knew what he was doing, he reached out and touched it. The moment his fingers made contact, a surge of energy shot through his body, his hair standing on end as if he had just stuck a fork in a power outlet.
The next thing he knew, he was airborne—literally floating above the ground, much to the awe of the bystanders. They gasped, and someone screamed, “He’s flying!”
Alex, wide-eyed and terrified, screamed too. “I AM?!”
He flailed around like an inflatable tube man at a used car lot, wobbling in the air, desperately trying to get back down. A kid in the crowd shouted, “You’re awesome!” while Alex’s only thought was, I need to get out of here, right now.
And just like that, he crashed into a nearby bush.
The crowd cheered even louder, convinced it was all part of some incredible, heroic display. Alex, meanwhile, pulled himself out of the bush, twigs and leaves sticking out of his hair. He brushed himself off, muttering under his breath, “This cannot be happening. I am not a hero. I just want to go home.”
But Greendale City didn’t care what Alex wanted. In fact, the city had decided, based on that one instance of accidental heroism, that it needed a hero, and Alex was it.
The next day, Alex’s face was all over the news. Reporters had given him a nickname: “The Phantom Protector.” He cringed every time they showed a replay of him flailing mid-air like a panicked bird. People in his neighbourhood waved at him, strangers took pictures, and his boss gave him a day off, calling it a “hero’s holiday.”
Alex just wanted everything to go back to normal. He tried staying indoors, locking his windows, and pretending that none of it had happened. But that cube—whatever it was—had other ideas.
It seemed to have latched onto him, literally and figuratively. He could feel it humming in his pocket, and occasionally, it would spark and shoot out a little shock, almost as if it was nudging him to do something.
For the next few days, Alex tried to avoid leaving his apartment altogether. He even called in sick to work, spending his time binge-watching old sitcoms and hoping that people would forget about him. But the cube had other plans. Every time he tried to relax, it would hum or buzz, reminding him of its presence.
One evening, after three days of isolation, Alex finally caved. He needed food. His fridge was empty, and he had run out of instant noodles. He reluctantly put on a hoodie, hoping to stay incognito, and ventured out to the grocery store.
As he walked down the aisles, carefully avoiding eye contact with anyone, he heard a commotion near the entrance. He peeked around a corner and saw a man in a ski mask, waving a gun and yelling at the cashier. Alex’s stomach sank. This was exactly the kind of situation he wanted to avoid.
He turned to leave, but the cube in his pocket began to glow. “No, no, no,” Alex whispered, trying to ignore it. He took a step back, but his legs refused to move in the direction he wanted. Instead, they carried him towards the commotion.
The man in the ski mask was too focused on the cashier to notice Alex approaching. The cube seemed to take control, guiding Alex’s hand to grab a can of baked beans from a nearby shelf. Before Alex could fully comprehend what was happening, he hurled the can at the man. It hit him square in the back of the head, and he crumpled to the ground, unconscious.
The cashier stared at Alex, wide-eyed. “You… you saved me!”
“I… uh…” Alex stammered, looking down at the unconscious man and then at the glowing cube in his pocket. He sighed. “I guess I did.”
The police arrived shortly after, and once again, Alex found himself the centre of attention. People were taking pictures, reporters were asking questions, and the cashier kept thanking him over and over. All Alex wanted was to grab his groceries and go home, but it seemed that fate had other ideas.
By the time he finally made it back to his apartment, he was exhausted. He collapsed onto his couch, staring at the cube. “Why me?” he asked, though he didn’t expect an answer. The cube remained silent, its glow fading until it was just a dull metal object once more.
