Noah wanted to be just like Ash, who he always called his uncle. Admiringly, he would always think about him. Ash was the most intriguing person he'd ever met. At first he wasn't fond of him having affairs with his big sister, but then he ultimately started loving him as much as his big sister. Ironic, it certainly was. 

He had only just finished eating his pancakes; and had quickly dropped his dishes in the sink and ran off.Dianne, his dear sister, had chosen to him. "Hey! Where do you think you're going?" She kept her hands clutched to the broomstick she held. She was, unfortunately, quite germaphobic. Especially for someone living amidst the slums where rats were as prevalent as people. 

Noah had stopped, slowly turning around. "Yes, mother?" He usually called her that. But his actual biological mother was long dead. Dianne peered at him. "Aren't you gonna wash those dishes you've just used? What's the rush today, anyway? I hope you're not trying to lift those dumbbells again."

"Yes, I'm going to wash the dishes," he replied, "but no, I'm not gonna try lifting the dumbbells again. I'm just going to my room."He actually did not have his own room at all. One bedroom was all they could afford. Noah walked back into the kitchen, stood in front of the sink, and started scrubbing the dishes, hurriedly. Dianne hadn't continued sweeping yet. She watched him wash the dishes, and rush away. Quickly, he took up the anomalous bag that rested on the dinner table. Dianne had noticed this, and it bothered her even to the point where she called to him again. "And Noah!"Noah halted; turning around, sighing. "Yes .... mother?"Dianne started again. "That bag you have … what's in it? You've been keeping it really close to you." She asked, raising a brow. Noah blurted, "Snacks," he hid the bag behind his back, "I didn't wanna share, but I suppose I can make an exception," he faked a smile. Dianne peered at him, slightly confused. "No no … you can have all the snacks, your grandma and I are fine as always. I'm just curious …"Noah plastered another smile, closing his eyes merrily this time. "As you should be … as my mother, of course. But there is no need to worry right now as I'm quite fine," he turned around. Dianne watched as Noah walked into the room, and close the door shut. Then, she slowly looked at Rosa. Rosa slowly looked at her. Their bewildered eyes met. Rosa sniffled. "Our little Noah's so grown up already …"Dianne shook her head, and pursed her lips. Then, she continued sweeping the kitchen. ***Noah finally had the time to open Ash's gift. He perched at the edge of the bed; the bag lingering on his lap. He rubbed his hands together. "If it's from uncle Ash, it's gonna be great." He breathed out loudly. "Whooo … calm down, Noah, you've only been waiting all day for this."Slowly, he looked down at the bag, carrying his hands to it. Moreover, he slowly opened it with these little anxious hands. The anticipation made his heart throb louder than normal. He placed a hand in the bag, and pulled out a box. He wrapped up the bag with his other hand, and started roving at the box. Despite having scrutinized it, he had still had no idea what was inside. There was, fortunately, only one way to find out. Noah slowly opened the box; the suspense increasing the speed of his heart like magic. His eyes widened from the time they feasted upon the object

"I can use this to fight back! I'll master it with the help of YouTube videos and tons of research. I'll do exactly what Ash told me."

"Just you wait uncle Ash. I'll be just like you. So what if I don't have superpowers? Superpowers are for losers. I can be a king without them," he peered down at his dagger, "Brendan's gonna be sooo jealous."

Noah held the knife. Quickly, he flickered it. The point of the knife had unfortunately pricked at his thumbing, peircing into his flesh. He groaned. "Ow, ow ... it's really sharp."

He grinned. "But all the better. I'm gonna use it. And I'm gonna be the king of the mafia of the new world, believe it or not!"

***

Through the streets, like the undead, Tim shambled with broken limbs and aching skin, staggering on his feet. His appearance attracted eyes like a magnet attracting metal. His body was engulfed in blood. Firmly, he held his kitchen knife at his side. 

His eyes were kept to slits. He was dying inside. He struggled to deem what pain he felt greater? Was it the pain of his wounds, or the pain from his sorrow? It was certainly both, but the latter was the one he felt most. 

He repeated the same thoughts, never ending. 

I'll have my revenge today. 

I'll have my revenge today.

I'll have my revenge today. 

REVENGE.