Running From Heroics
Alex decided the best course of action was to avoid any and all potential heroic situations. He was determined to stay in his lane—the safe, comfortable lane where he did not get involved in anything remotely dangerous. He had no intention of saving anyone else, not even if their WiFi was down.
One evening, he was walking home, taking the long route to avoid any crowded areas, when he heard a scream. He froze, his heart pounding. Nope. He wasn’t going to investigate. He turned on his heel and started walking faster.
The scream came again, this time closer. Before Alex could process what was happening, the cube in his pocket glowed brightly, and suddenly he was running—against his will—towards the sound.
“No, no, no! Stop!” he shouted at his legs, which were sprinting down an alleyway. He tried grabbing onto a lamppost to stop himself, but the cube sent a shock through his body, making him let go. It was as if his legs were on autopilot, dragging him straight towards trouble.
A group of masked robbers were standing outside a jewellery store, their bags full of stolen goods. They looked at Alex in surprise, clearly not expecting a random guy in jeans and a hoodie to come charging at them.
Alex, still trying to stop his runaway legs, ended up barrelling into the first robber like an out-of-control bowling ball. They both went down, Alex landing on top of the man with a groan.
The other robbers stared in disbelief as Alex, sprawled out on the ground, accidentally tripped another one with his flailing arm. It was pure chaos. One of the robbers panicked and ran, leaving the others tangled up with Alex. Before long, the police arrived, and Alex was standing there, dazed, as the officers handcuffed the robbers.
“Great job, Phantom Protector!” one officer said, giving Alex a thumbs-up.
“Uh… thanks?” Alex replied, rubbing his head. He looked down at the cube, which had gone silent and dull, as if it was pleased with itself. He sighed deeply. “I hate you,” he whispered to the cube.
The crowd that had gathered was clapping, cheering, and, of course, taking more pictures. Alex plastered on a weak smile, trying to hide how much he just wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear.
The next day, Alex decided to take drastic measures. He needed to find a way to get rid of the cube. He spent hours researching strange artifacts, magical objects, and anything that might explain what the cube was and how to get rid of it. He even visited a few antique shops, hoping someone might recognize it, but no one had any answers.
Frustrated, Alex returned home, more determined than ever to avoid any situation that might require heroics. He started carrying around a large duffel bag, intending to throw the cube in it whenever it started to glow, hoping that would somehow contain its influence. It didn’t work.
One afternoon, Alex was at a coffee shop, trying to enjoy a rare moment of peace, when he heard a loud crash outside. He closed his eyes, praying it was nothing serious. But then he felt the familiar hum in his pocket. The cube was glowing, and Alex knew what was coming.
“Not again,” he groaned, looking around for a place to hide. But before he could make a move, his legs were already carrying him towards the door.
Outside, a delivery truck had crashed into a lamppost, and the driver was trapped inside. People were gathered around, unsure of what to do. Alex tried to fight it, but The Nudge was too strong. He found himself climbing onto the truck, pulling at the door until it finally gave way. The driver, a middle-aged man with a terrified expression, looked at Alex as if he was his saviour.
“Thank you!” the driver gasped as Alex helped him out of the truck.
Alex forced a smile, trying to ignore the cheers from the growing crowd. He could feel The Nudge pulsing in his pocket, and he muttered under his breath, “You just can’t let me have a normal day, can you?”
The driver was safe, the crowd was happy, and Alex once again found himself the unwilling centre of attention. Reporters showed up, cameras flashed, and Alex could feel his face growing hot with embarrassment. He hated this. He hated all of it.
When he finally got back home, he threw the cube onto his kitchen table and glared at it. “I don’t know what you are or why you chose me, but this has to stop,” he said. The cube, of course, remained silent.
Alex spent the next few hours trying everything he could think of to get rid of the cube. He tried flushing it down the toilet, but it somehow reappeared on his kitchen counter. He tried burying it in the park, but it was back in his pocket by the time he got home. He even tried giving it to a stray dog, but the dog barked at him and ran away. Defeated, Alex slumped onto his couch, staring at the glowing cube. “Looks like I’m stuck with you,” he muttered. The cube pulsed softly, almost as if it was agreeing with him.
