Different [A Superhero AU] - Book One

Chapter Fifty-Five - The End

Jack stares out over San Francisco, the wind rustling his hair and clothing. In the days after the final battle, the city became both more chaotic and more controlled. It started with rebel groups fighting back after the heroes disappeared, although they were soon shut down by the police officers sent out by the boss. The only factories and businesses running are the ones that he allows, and the people working are the ones that have been passed by him. It's to a point where it's almost apocalyptic.

The villains didn't do much at first. The boss, for once, was merciful on them and gave them time to mourn, but it wasn't enough. Before he knew it, Jack, Cry, and Matthew were sent out to fight the resistances.

The Irishman had expected the pain to dull, but it doesn't.  Every waking moment is like living in a nightmare, and sleep is no better. When he can't fight rest any longer, his dreams are filled with death and guilt. No matter where he goes, he can't find peace.

Jack had always known he wouldn't win in the end. Nothing good ever comes out of something this corrupt, but he hadn't expected it to be this bad. The only person who won anything is the boss, and that's because he had nothing to lose except a son he never really wanted.

Despite wanting it all to be over, Jack promised himself he wouldn't turn to suicide. Dying would only bring Matthew and Cry more pain, plus it's not what Mark would have wanted. Maybe everything will be okay eventually. Perhaps the damage done here will be fixed by someone brave enough to make a change, but Jack is not that person. He's broken beyond belief, and it's hard to fix something else when you can't even fix yourself.

The Irishman exhales heavily, breathing in the fresh air. From the ground, it's almost impossible to get a gust of wind, but from the rooftops it's easy. He finds that the breeze helps clear his mind and fills his lungs when he feels like he's suffocating. Getting smothered seems easy nowadays with everything going on.

"Nobody's out today. Our work is complete," Matthew says into the earpiece.

"Copy that," Cry replies.

Jack simply nods and climbs down from the roof at a slow pace, not bothering to use his speed. He needs time to be alone and think or he risks going crazy. He holsters his gun and trudges away from the building, turning towards the institute.

As he does, motion catches in the corner of his eye. Instantly, Jack is on guard and with his gun in his hand. Rebels are notorious for targeting villains, and while this could be an exception, he won't count on it.  He glances around but upon seeing nothing, holsters his gun once again. He's probably just losing his mind, seeing people where there's nothing.

Then, movement. This time, the Irishman keeps his gun in his hand as he looks around. He doesn't dare call to them and draw attention to himself, but he hates this game of hide and seek.

The longer he stares in the general direction of the movement, the more a figure starts to form. They're not extremely tall, but well built. Their feet tap against the pavement in a steady rhythm, their face not yet discernible due to the distance.

As they get closer, Jack's heart starts to pound out of his chest. He shoves his gun on his belt and starts to jog, using not a drop of his power. Super speed can make things seem fake, and he wants this to be anything but fake.

Growing closer yet, tears start pouring down Jack's face. He runs as fast as he can with his simple human abilities, trying not to stumble. It's real.  It's real, and it's the greatest thing that could have ever happened.

When he's close enough, Jack leaps into Mark's open arms. 

The End