Somewhere in the multiverse, on a small blue marble, in a concrete building, two people are completely lost in a maze of concrete, and cubicles.

The woman annoyed at all the wandering says, “Where are we? This place is strange.”

“That was a weird way of saying that.” The man said amused.

“What?”

The man stopped, “Well normally people say it's a strange place then ask where they are.”

“Why does it matter?”

“It doesn't.” The man shrugged.

“Then why?”

“Just felt like something I should comment on.” The man continued down the twisting halls.

“Ass.”

The man ignored the comment, “To answer your question. We are where we need to be.”

“And where is that?” She asked shortly.

“I have no idea.”

The woman looked incredulous towards the man, “You drove us here.”

“Doesn't mean I know where we are.”

“Wa bu...” The woman stuttered flabbergasted. “Then why are we here?”

The man looked sad as looked around and said. “Same as always.”

——

In a concrete building, an all too familiar scene of tragedy is unfolding. A boy and a girl, no more than children, sit in an office, waiting. The two children sit there, as they learn they are now orphans. The two were taken from school earlier in the day, by a police officer, the two sat there dumbfounded, unable to process what was being said.

It was a horrible thing for anyone. The two sat there scared, tired, and exhausted from the news and not t knowing what was going to happen to them. It might sound callus to hear that thought coming from one who lost their loved ones but to them. They lost everything in but a moment.

The two sit and wait, as the proper people try to get in contact with the children's families. It was a long time before they were finally able to contact their grandparents. It took some time for them to explain what happened to the children’s parents. Both sets of grandparents were in mourning, but only one was able to actually take them in. The others could not. They were too old and knew they would be in good hands.

When the children finally learned of their fate, they cried. Not for anything untoward to their grandparents, but now they knew what was next they felt they could mourn.

——

Standing just around the corner of an office, where two children cry, unseen by all, two people stand and watch as children mourn for their lost parents.

The woman looked on into the room her heartbreaking, “Is what we do right?”

“I don't know if it is good or not that you finally asked me that question.”

The woman looked confused.

“I'm not some poet. I only speak on what I've seen. We are neither cruel nor kind.” The man said matter of factly.

“But what do you call this?” The woman gestured towards the crying children.

“Life.”

“How is this not cruel? These children have so much ahead of them, why would you choose them after all they've been through?” The woman shouted demanding an answer.

“I do not always choose them.” The man admitted tiredly.

“The fuck you do!” She snapped.

“I don't.” The man shook his head, adding in almost a whisper, “I’m just the delivery man.”

“Then what the hell was that classroom?” The woman yelled.

The man stood silent not knowing how to answer.

The woman angrily grabbed the man, “No, I'm not letting this go. What was the extra classroom then if not you choosing.”

“Fine” The man shouted shaking the girl off, “but that was different.”

“How?” The woman glared demanding.

“They would all have died from the excess power of the summoning in the other room, it was the only way to save them. Bleed the power into another circle.”

“Why didn’t you just make the circle yourself?”

“The power was always going to land there, the circle was a conduit to channel it and protect as many people as possible.”

“Could you have made a circle that didn’t bleed?”

“No.”

The woman was searching her memory before remembering, “And what about that military convoy?”

“That was an instance I get to choose. I had the chance to give a group that would die a second chance. Most of the time, I get to choose.” The man’s next words were sad, “But sometimes, I’m just trying to mitigate damage.”

“Then choose someone else.” The woman said tears in her eyes.

The man looked away unable to look the woman in the face, “I can't this time.”

“Why?”

The man looked towards the children saying resolutely, “They are needed.”

“By their family!”

“This is the first time you've seen it so close, so fresh.” The man said sadly.

“Seen what?”

“The real consequences. The innocents. I’ve shown you a funeral, where people mourned, but they had days to mourn. This…” The man gestured to the children, “This is fresh visceral and truly heartbreaking.”

“But…” The woman was searching for words but completely failing.

“There is no excuse there is always someone left behind. Someone always mourns. We take them from this world to save another. Sometimes they would be taken whether we were there or not pulled through, hurting or killing those around them at the time. Who or what sends me to these people I don’t know. So tell me are we kind or cruel?”

“...That was not well thought out.” The woman said tears in her eyes.

“No, it wasn't I'm not a wordsmith.”

“Wordsmith?” The woman asked wiping away her tears.

“You know.” The man tried to explain, “Person who makes things with words, makes you feel, and all that.”

The man and woman fell to silence observing the tragedy unfolding in the room. It was a long time before the woman asked.

“What now?”

“We make them heroes.”