How bad is it?" Layla's voice trembled, her face tight with fear and restlessness.
Raymond stood beside her, fists shaking. "I got there right after he was shot—I couldn't do jack shit!" He slammed both hands against the table, the sound cracking through the room. "Fuck!" he roared, his face twisting with rage.
In a matter of moments, the others arrived. Concern etched on their faces, they rushed to Raymond and Layla, needing answers to what was going on.
Larry came forward, his voice pitched with worry, and he asked. "What the hell happened out there? How did he get shot?"
Raymond was seated, head bowed, tapping his feet on the ground; he answered. "It was going so well until we lost concentration; he raised his head up, his blue eyes met the lighting of the room before looking away, and the tone of his voice increased in frustration. "How could we have known Cecil was alive?"
"What?" Larry said, "Surprise," arching his brows and flying them up.
The rest also were shocked to hear a name not long ago forgotten.
"Do you know what you're saying?" Derick added.
"You heard me right Cecil Edgar is alive. After the sniper did the shooting, he gave me a crooked smile. That motherfucker has been impersonating Dickens all this while. I thought he and Timothy were friends; why would he orchestrate the shooting of his friend?" Raymond cried out.
Max dropped in a rather unlikely question. "What if it's a clone?"
Layla answered for all. "No, Max, that can't be the answer to this reappearance; it's just not possible."
The medium-brown-skinned guy, in a curly short taper fade cut, responded quickly to the commander's answer. "It could be. His brown eyes skimmed through the room in thoughts of gaining the attention of the others, he added. We're in an era where technology is growing massively; anything can happen."
Larry, who stood close to him, voiced. "I don't believe that. He cleared his throat. I get where you're coming from but this, this seemed planned from the start Cecil Edgar has been in cohorts with that Al-Daeem guy from the start. We've been fooled all along; who knows who else is with them? Shit the goddamn mayor could be with them."
Larry's face slowly formed into a look of anger and disappointment.
As the words left Larry's mouth, silence slowly filled the room but was soon cut short—Derick, who didn't speak for a while, opened his mouth to speak, he said. "I guess it's true; we mostly fall at the hands of those close to us. No surprise there; we live in a world with a rule: every man for himself. He let out a wild laugh and then stopped; he continued speaking.
"There's no modesty in this world; why fight without spilling blood when it's the only way to correct the wrong in this cruel world? Now I see the truth in Timothy's words: we are humans, and that makes us selfish. His tone shifted to a more aggressive manner.
"Cecil's greed took over him and made him join the bad side. I had never thought in my life I'd be involved in this hero and villain charade, though I still know nothing of what a hero means... I'll fight for the innocent and stop those who need to be stopped for now; that's my definition of heroism."
He spoke no more, neither did the others; everyone just sat focused, waiting for the results of their ally who is currently in the health care department being treated.
Commander Layla's phone rang; she voiced aloud for each of them to hear. "Sorry, I have to take this call; the higher-ups need my attention. Um, phone me if something comes up."
She walked out of the room. Max grabbed the remote of the TV, switching it on. The moment it got on, it went straight to the news.
He increased the volume for more audibility. The man on screen said,
"As you can see here, a zoom to their camera," he continued. The fire department are putting out the fire; some are pulling out bodies. There haven't been confirmed survivors yet, so we don't know what caused the fire."
"People are saying they saw Vilex and Frost earlier, so maybe after the heroes left the explosion happened; we just don't know. Since the day before till now, Ultra City has faced calamity upon calamity. We can only pray we all see through this night. The one above alone knows what can happen, so my fellow citizens, stay safe."
The news program ended.
****
Two days passed, and the city was back to its norm, or rather, the silence the latter days had given them. The silence filled every home, every workplace, and even the defense of the city, the Hero Association Building.
Inside the building, the noises that could be heard were the whispers from officials to officials, the tapping of keyboards, and the footsteps of people walking.
"Have you heard?" A female official silently spoke to her colleague
"Heard what?" The other official asked.
"He hasn't gotten up yet. Imagine Timothy, out of anyone, bedridden. Now put us regulars in his place, and we're all dying." She said,
The one seated listening to her colleague speak replied. "Hey, stay positive; do you want to die?"
The other answered with a nod, "No."
"Good. She said. It's not like we're outfield agents; our job is to stay in here and work on what we can; the fighting concerns us less."
A cough cut in their chatter. The unit head was clearing his throat—giving a signal to them to shut up. They turned nervously at him, his eyes staring straight at them. The one standing left, going back to her post.
The Head muttered under his breath. "Gossip."
Up at one of the floors—the health department sitting in front of a ward—was Raymond. Head bowed, dressed in shorts and a T-shirt. From the room came a doctor; Raymond got up quickly, meeting the doctor before he turned to close the doors.
His anxious blue eyes asked the doctor. "How is he?"
The doctor, in a relaxed look, answered. "We checked again, and like I've been saying in the past days, he's alright; we got the bullets out."
Raymond let out a sigh; those words brought out assurance that his partner was okay.
The Doctor continued speaking. "He's surely lucky—two bullets to the chest and none got to his heart. Hats off to him. Now it's on him now to get up."
"Whatever do you mean, sir?" Raymond said,
"He's in hypnagogic paralysis." Said the doctor.
Raymond's face changed, concern written all over it, and he asked. "Meaning what, Coma?"
The Doctor smiled, saying. "You look worried; it's not something serious. We can't call it a coma; it's sleep paralysis. To make it clear, it happens to everyone whereby you sleep and it's like something is holding you down."
"Oh." Raymond cheered
"He should be awake by the day's end. You can come check him later; for now, let him rest—he needs it to beat the paralysis."
"Okay." Raymond said
They both walked off. In the room Timothy lay on the bed, eyes shut, covered in a white sheet. His eyes flinching like a kid having a nightmare.
"No, don't shoot! I beg you, please let them be!" a woman pleaded, shielding two boys behind her.
"Timothy, run away with Axel! Get to safety—I'll be fine!" She shouted to the teenage boy.
Timothy clenched his fists, eyes wide and wet. He picked up the unconscious little boy, Axel, and placed him on his back.
"I'm sorry I couldn't do anything, sister… I hope you forgive me," he whispered as he ran, tears falling freely.
The woman smiled faintly as her younger brother and son disappeared down the alley.
BANG.
Her body dropped to the ground, blood spilling and streaming through the cracked pavement.
Timothy gasped and shot up from the floor, chest heaving.
"Why this memory... Of all things I could dream about, it's this one. The one where I was useless."
He looked around—where he was clouded, like a mist. No understanding of where he was.
He muttered. "What is this place?"
He looked at his body—he was naked.
Still lost, about being naked, a soft hand wrapped around his body, and the voice spoke; it was feminine, she said. "I've missed your body."