The Wolf's Bleyd

Chapter 14

And so my night went on like this, stopping robbers, helping the cops, all that jazz. But in the back of my mind, I wondered what would be said about it in the papers the next day. I hoped the people would know that I'm here to help, but, knowing the papers, I'd be portrayed as a vigilante, like many other heroes in the comics and movies. Oh well, I guess I'll find out later.

I got back home to Marcus's as the sun crested the horizon, about 6 a.m. I think. I dropped through the skylight in the living room and almost fell asleep for the first time in months right there. It felt strange being actually tired. I forced myself to retract the lines of metal that I used to cover the lower half of my face, to walk up the stairs, to strip off my blades and my father's samurai sword and hang them on the walls of my room, to fold my suit into the wristband that Marcus engineered and dress in pyjamas. I fell gate fully onto the bed, sighing in relief and pleasure, and closed my eyes.

I didn't fall asleep, but just left my mind drift as my body converted the light in the room into energy for me to live off, like a plant conducting photosynthesis. I reflected on my night, foiling villains and helping the police in the city. I smiled at how cliché that sounded, but that's going to be my life from now on, helping Optopolis to recover from what The Wolf has done to her. It felt good to do what I did tonight. I knew I was using my powers rightly. Thinking about it, I could see Marcus's point about Destiny and Fate. I was meant for this.

I stayed there like that until I heard Marcus get up at 8:30. On weekdays he's up at 7, but seeing as it's a Saturday, and he doesn't work on weekends, he sleeps in a while, but he still works like clockwork.

His daily routine is to get up. brush his teeth, go into the kitchen, put on the kettle for both of us (since coming here I've taken to drinking a cup of tea in the mornings), and gets the paper off the doorstep. Next after he makes his coffee, he gets a bowl of cereal. After he eats - 7:30 (or 9 on weekends) - he gets ready for the day and is out the door for work at 8. Like I said, like clockwork.

After a few more minutes laying on my bed, I hauled myself up and walked downstairs. Grabbing my favourite Mickey Mouse mug, I went through the ritual of putting a tea bag in the mug, waiting for the kettle to boil (I occupied myself by air playing 'Who's Got My Back' by Creed, one of my favourite songs to play on guitar (A/N -I can actually play this on guitar :3)). Once the kettle boiled, I poured some water into my mug, got a spoon and squeezed the air out of the tea bag. Then I fished the bag out of the water, flung it across the room and into the bin. Retrieving the sugar jar from the press above my head, I scooped out two teaspoons of sugar into my mug, stirred it well and added a bit of soya milk - I just prefer the taste of soya. I plonk onto my usual place on the counter and sip my tea quietly as I wait for Marcus to come into the room.

When I'm about halfway into my mug (I tend to drink tea pretty slowly), Marcus walks in, his nose glued to the page of the newspaper, a look of deep concentration on his face.

"Morning!" I say cheerily, adding a little gimpy wave.

He nods back to me, obviously really concerned about the article in the paper. His eyebrows were deeply furrowed and he looked both offended and pissed off. I just waited patiently for him to finish, air playing some All Time Low and Linkin Park to pass the time. I've been doing that a lot lately, air guitaring. I really should pick up my guitar again . . .

"El . . ." Marcus sounded slightly guarded in calling me over. Aw jeez here we go.

I hopped off the counter and walked over, "Sup?" was my response.

He turned the paper to me. On the front was the headline: New vigilante makes appearance last night, now suspected in murder of Elva Senar and her parents. Underneath the headline was a picture of me and my parents taken on my 13th birthday, and pictures of me last night, on the bonnet of my parent's car. Me holding the cyborg by it's neck. Me holding the jewellery store robber . . .