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In many fairy tales, there is always the ‘Good’ and the ‘Bad’. A valiant knight in shining armor slaying a ferocious dragon bringing terror and deaths upon the land. A common brave young lad fighting his way through injustice, rising in fame, and eventually dethroning a corrupted, evil king. These people we call ‘Heroes’ have not an easy journey. Their path is always rough, full of dangers and traps. But at the end of their struggle, happy ending waits patiently for them—marrying the woman they love, basking in glory and riches, having people chanting their name and building statues. These ‘Heroes’ can be anyone. YOU can be a ‘Hero’.
My heartbeat is drumming as my feet race against each other on the street crowded with people drenched in sweat and carrying shopping bags. Like a snake, I slip past through them with ease, but I can still hear the shouting of an angry man who is chasing after me.
“SOMEONE STOP THAT BRAT!”
Ha! You wish!
I dash behind several old ladies to a narrow alleyway. Piles of ugly garbage are sitting in the corner. I quickly hide behind a stinky wet trash can as I securely cover a plastic of bread and a small novel with both my arms, to protect them from the roaming flies.
What a pathetic life I’m living in. I crook my neck up and watch the sky. It’s bright, and the blue color is pale it almost looks white. However, no matter how stale it looks, there is freedom up there. I lift the novel and observe the cover once again—a man wearing a cape is seen flying in the sky with a heroic pose, and an eye-catching ‘Guardian of the Sky’ is written above the floating figure. Faintly, I hear the roaring sound of a jet. It becomes loud enough to shake the ground where I stand before it gradually disappears. A gust of wind whiffs my hair gently. A brief, sweet taste of freedom. My lips curl into a smile.
”You are a no-good scumbag.”
“Disgusting rats.”
“A burden to the society.”
No more. My sister and I will leave this shithole and rise in glory. We will be heroes. Those people will regret the day they open their foul mouth and belittle us.
“Elke, what do you say we’re joining the air force?”
“Fucking what now?”
Smokes are filling the air. The sky is dark with city lights flickering in the horizon. We are in a balcony of small apartment unit that we just rented yesterday. It's located in the outskirt of the city, in a secluded place where people are disgusted to even place their foot there. We won't be here for too long either way. With no place to call home anymore, we are moving from time to time, taking odd jobs here and there to survive. Hell, maybe we are on a cop’s wanted list, or a mafia’s hit list—those people are one and the same, they hate us and want us dead. I could no longer rest easy with this lingering, haunting feeling that keeps me awake every night.
How does it feel to be free? I have long forgotten.
I exhale. “The air force,” Taking another drag before continuing. “Pilots.”
I don’t look her way, but I know what expression she is pulling right now. That stupid expression whenever I said something stupid, or so she thought.
“Joining Osea’s air force? Are you out of your fucking mind? Hell no,” she scoffs. “Osea can burn to hell for all I care.”
“Ha, see, that’s where you’re wrong,” I take my phone out of my pocket and browse the gallery. I show her a picture of a fresh announcement glued to a wall. A giant blue and white G logo is printed on the paper. “Fuck Osea. We’re gonna be mercenary pilots.”
Elke raises one of her eyebrows and grabs my phone to read the announcement. She takes a long drag, looking intrigued.
“General Resource Limited... I heard it’s a fancy-ass private company,” she throws the phone back at me. “The payment should be pretty good, eh? I don’t mind kicking some asses in the sky for good money. It’s getting pretty boring down here.”
“Right?” I couldn’t hide my excitement. “We can claim the sky as our home, Elke, where we will be free. And people... they will see us as heroes!”
“Heroes this, heroes that. Those stupid crap you’re reading have been infecting your brain for too long, Otto,” her tone is mocking.
“Fuck off,” I’m chugging a can of cold beer sitting next to me and start to flail my hand in exaggerating motions. “Your small brain is too weak to understand the beauty of literature."
“You piece of shit,” she hurls an empty can at me. I couldn't help but laugh, and soon after, her laughter rings in the air. I see that people find her laugh unsettling, but not me. The bruises and scars on her face and arms are solid proof that no one could ever understand her but me. Elke and I only have each other. I will protect her laughter as she has been throwing her life so many times over to protect mine.
Now, we’re Rage and Scream, proud members of the GR Guardian Mercenaries. Under the Mimic Squadron, we have made a name of ourselves as a fierce mercenary duo.
We’re living the life—good place, good food, and no more nightmares. The shadows who have been hiding and creeping behind us for years have gone for good as we rise above the clouds. But... it is not enough.
People start paying attention at us, talking about how effective and fearful we are as mercenaries, saying that we are their 'Heroes', but these admiration and respect merely come from the organization. And, our foes so far are no tough opponents. I need a bigger, stronger target—the worst of the worst—to proof to the world that I am the best, that I can be the 'Hero' of the entire continent.
“Our target is Three Strikes.”
A picture of an orange dog, or wolf, whatever, biting a riffle is shown on the screen.
“What a weird-ass looking emblem,” Scream chimes in. Exactly my thought. This is the guy we’re supposed to kill?
The briefing guy hands me and Scream some papers with information of our target as he explains the mission further. Strider 1, or known as Three Strikes, is an Osean fighter pilot working under the LRSSG. He started his career in the IUN, then... he was sentenced to a penal unit under the accusation of killing President Harling, which was eventually proven false. Holy fucking shit. Goddamn Osea always fuck everything up, never did their job right. I pity Three Strikes for working under Osea, but for only a fleeting moment. Those are not the information that catch my attention anyway.
It’s Three Strikes’ performance that brings my breathing to a halt. What’s with his kill rates? No pilots could ever reach this number. Is he even human?
“Three Strikes has been determined as a threat to our force. Eliminate him.”
My hands are trembling, not due to fear, but excitement. This is it... the ‘monster’ I’ve been looking for.
“Are you ready, Scream? Just follow my lead if we wanna win.”
“Screw you, Rage. I’ll fly however I want,” Scream grins. I can see that she’s burning with enthusiasm, craving for the blood of the rabid dog. “And I’ll be the one who take Three Strikes down.”
I grab my helmet and walk towards the airfield. “We'll see about that.”
The pale blue sky and a silhouette of a flying figure are reflected on the screen. With his mighty fist, he knocked the flying monster out of the sky and save the world. Faintly, I hear the scream of the crowds chanting my name with joy, hollers of gratitude for killing the treacherous monster terrorizing the sky. I bask in that fantasy glory. All will be true once we return. It is finally my time to shine.