Antiheroes

Chapter 69: The end

Final chapter.

Also... Nice
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??? POV.

The news had spread quickly like wildfire, just like it always did throughout the night and the early morning. Wilbur was considered a superhero by many, even if he wasn’t one, and to see him with his throat slit first thing on the morning news obviously caused an uproar around the city.

A video also was uploaded from an anonymous account, being sent to every TV station, newspaper, and government agent. It showed him being cornered by a bunch of the other heroes and criminals of the city.

The video showed Wilbur breaking into a warehouse where the other heroes and criminals of the city had been hiding, him giving an inspiring speech about how Justice will prevail, and then getting his throat slit by a blond teenager who had witnessed the events. It was a lot to take in for a seven minute clip, and people took it in several different ways.

Some people believed that this was real, and that now the heroes and criminals should be caught and publicly executed for the crime. Others believed that it was fabricated and edited, and that none of this was real. Although most of the people who thought none of this was real believed that Wilbur was a fraud long before his death.

But no matter what anybody thought, today was going to be his memorial, and he was going to be buried in the city’s biggest church, just like Techno was after he was killed. But this time there was actually going to be a body, and it seemed that both of them were going to be buried in the same tomb.

The news was showing a live broadcast of the event, with several reports going out including the one I was watching on TV at the bar right now. Everything was the same as Techno’s memorial except based around Wilbur. A large portrait of the ‘hero’ was on the church steps and there were a lot of police officers and government officials all around it talking to each other.

A large crowd of people were in the street, but unlike when Techno had died there was a separation in the crowd. Half of them were supporters, laying out gifts and flowers around the gates of the graveyard. Some of them were dressed up as him, or holding action figures and cuddly plushies of the hero.

But there was also a group protesting at the edge of the crowd, some of the people who had believed that what they saw was fake, holding signs and shouting screaming matches at the supporters while the reporters on the TV tried their best to ignore it.

The bar around me was fairly quiet, seeing as it was early in the morning. Most of the people who came here to drink into the evening were all breaking their backs at their workplace, or maybe at the memorial of the false hero themselves instead of just watching it on a screen like I was.

So there was only me, a malnourished drunk unconscious from the previous night that nobody had cared to look after, and a group of people muttering quietly in a booth in the corner of the room. The ones in the corner seemed to be in some sort of cult, as they all had dark coloured hoods pulled over their heads and whispered stuff quietly to each other.

“Can I get a refill please?” I asked the bartender, tapping the side of my empty glass gently with my pointer finger. He had been polishing the same glass for five minutes with a grey cloth while staring mindlessly at the report on the TV. Once the bartender realised my request he nodded, grabbing the bottle off the shelf and bringing it over to me.

He filled my glass and I gave a small thanks before lifting it to my lips and taking a long sip, enjoying the alcohol and savouring every drop of it. The time was on the corner of the screen in the news, showing about ten minutes before the memorial started, meaning I would be sitting here for ten minutes before leaving cause I didn’t want to see that shit.

“Who would have thought that the heroes I had admired the last half a decade were cold blooded killers and criminals,” the bartender muttered. “I had originally thought they were awesome, but who would have known they were working with criminals the entire time.”

“Wilbur was just as much of a criminal as they were.” One of the people from the corner piped up, talking for the first time since they had gotten here. “He has killed more people than any of them have.” The rest of the group all muttered in agreement and the bartender turned to glare at them all.

“You lot have to be demented,” he grumbled, placing the cloth he’d been using down as he stared into the dim back corner. “He was kind, open, and helpful, the others had a lot of secrets shared between them.”
“Turns out he also has a lot of secrets.” One of the group responded with gritted teeth.

“Yeah!” Another member of the group said loudly. “He killed his brother and tried to kill his father! Then he fucking kidnapped me twice, but I escaped!”
“Be quiet,” one of the people sitting beside him hissed, sounding a lot older than the other was and jabbing him with their shoulder.

I tried to block out their bickering as I took another sip of the alcohol, my attention back on the tv and their muttering becoming quiet background noise. As they were waiting for the memorial to start, more stories were being told, mainly about the people involved in the crime being hunted by police.

As I continued to drink I listened to the story, finding myself staring up at it as the female reporter explained about how the people seen in the anonymous video were being hunted down by the authorities. She also began explaining what their sentences would be, all lasting several decades which seemed shocking because that will make up the rest of some of their lives.

“Guys are you sure we should be here?” A member of the group in the corner piped up again. “It says there that if we are found then we’d be in jail for forty years!”
“Exactly, we all know Phil wouldn’t live that long, he needs to be alive to see me get married to many beautiful women.”

“No need to be rude Tommy.” Another member of the group responded harshly. I watched the bartender as the conversation continued behind me, however they were too quiet for him to make out any of the things they were saying.

“We just have to wait until the memorial starts, then most of the cops will be off grieving instead of patrolling the streets looking for us!”
“Surprisingly Sapnap is correct for once,” I heard the sarcastic murmur followed by a chuckle.
“I still don’t see why Karl can’t teleport us.”

“Because Tommy,” yet another person sighed exasperatedly. “I had to teleport all of us far enough this morning, and am tired from packing my stuff. If you want to be teleported somewhere then build a machine and do it that way.”

“Besides Tommy, hiding here is a good spot.” Someone said to the person who spoke first. “I mean I don’t drink and am still recovering, but who in this city would go looking through bars like this one for any sign of superheroes?”

At the last word I couldn’t help but turn over my shoulder, and immediately found myself making eye contact with one of the members of the group. His emerald green eyes stared into mine and a sense of familiarity washed over him as he took in my features. After a moment of a staring contest I just smirked and mouthed a ‘good luck’ to him.

He returned my expression and gave a nod of thanks before I turned away. The blond joined in on the conversation the group were having and I couldn’t help listening in as I continued with my drink, just taking a moment to brush a long strand of my pink hair away from my face.
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1433 words

And that is the end of Antiheroes, and Heroes. How did you guys enjoy the story?

Once you've finished this feel free to go check out Shot in Love and Crime which is a mafia story I am now writing.

Also Dream's face reveal!!!