There is a melancholic note of living an unfulfilled life, looking at your wrinkled hands and realizing that they looked so foreign to you. I wished I could lash out or scream, to tell somebody that this old casket didn’t belong to me. But I never rebelled, not even a peep. The future sneaked upon me in such an inconspicuous way that I failed to notice when exactly I had accepted my fate. Somewhere along the line, I just made peace with the fact that I was nobody and I will never be somebody.

So here I was sitting in my bathrobe, coffee mug in one hand, the remote control on the other. Just a spectator to the most fantastic show on earth. A man. A human being of flesh and blood lifting a car as if it was furniture. Bulging muscles threatening to burst his dark suit. A Chevy Cavalier goes flying off the screen. Suddenly the man vanishes in a blur, dazzling the viewer. Only the slow motion replay of the scene could show what we missed while an overexcited reporter breaks down the scene step by step.

“And here you can see our hero deflecting the arrows knocked against him with incredible precision.” The image freezes as the reporter uses a retractable pointing stick to tell how closely our savior came to losing his life. “Courage, hope and strength.” The advertisement glides over the screen showing Vorenus happily drinking a Coca-cola.

Real life heroes and mega-corporations walking hand in hand, as if celebrities weren’t enough already. The anchor takes it from there. “This exclusive footage was brought to you by the American Legionaires. Don’t let criminals run amok, we have the heroes that can bring to your city the calm and the peace of mind that you deserve.” He finishes the show with his brightest smile, exuding confidence and optimism. I couldn’t stomach it so I turned off the TV.

My knees complained as I lifted myself out of the couch, one of my most prized possessions. Still shaking my head in disbelief. The flames on Devone burning brightly in my mind, a single team pacified a state once infamous for its lawlessness, but at what cost? Could we live with what we pay for their protection? Can we send them away? Caught up in my musings I almost tripped over Pringles on my way to the fridge. The little bugger barked as he gave me the “I’m getting a piece of whatever you’re having” kind of look. He weighs no more than fifteen pounds in his silver fur, I couldn't help but oblige.

The clock marked 04:09. Nothing in this household seemed to work. I got a little upset thinking about it as I reheated the leftovers from lunch. Hunger satiated, I prepared myself to sleep.

Between the bathroom and the living room, I stopped to admire myself in plaid pajamas. I clenched my fists as I faced myself in the mirror. “I would burn this whole city down to a crisp, just to feel once what is like...” I whispered, looking over my shoulder, afraid of finding somebody witnessing this embarrassing scene. There was only Audrey so I looked at her picture one more time.

So much time has passed, I couldn't help but feel a smile creeping over my crankiness as I took her picture into my hands. Her sandy hair running freely, her face sprinkled by tiny freckles. It made me chuckle. The round glasses, the peace sign stitched on her shirt and a determined look on her face. It seemed like it was only yesterday. I put the picture back, a single tear hit the frame.

The sun peaked over the horizon. The orange color encompassed everything. I thought that pollution was responsible for this kind of thing, but that didn’t apply anymore. I put on my shorts and worn shoes. On the front of my old t-shirt it read “Carcetti for mayor.” Who doesn’t like to go out in the latest fashion? I stood over my balcony, the dark beverage my most faithful companion. Pringles came rushing through the stairs wagging his tail. I stand corrected, my second most faithful companion.

Looking down, I welcomed the vibrant city that laid in front of my eyes. I couldn't help but notice the gentleman on my left looking absolutely absorbed as he sought treasure among the trash infested street. To my right, a pregnant lady approached the fine gentleman, nervously scratching her neck while they struck conversation. There is a part of me that felt compassion over their situation. There was a part of me that just grew colder.

Finishing my morning routine, I swallowed my meds. Just to be safe, I checked my cell phone, the opening screen told me the weather and the time, I swiped left and I read, “City is currently under protection of Phantom Menace. The threat level remains green at this moment.”

Jesus Christ, the man called himself Phantom Menace. I will never get used to it, horrible alias. On top of that, he lived with his family without even concealing his identity. No rhyme or reason to be found anywhere, not a speck of it. I sighed. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, I guess.

I put my fifteen pound fearsome beast on a leash before heading outside. The frenzied animal savagely leaks my face before I put him back on the floor. As soon as I got out the fresh air hit me like a wave.

There are many things that old folks like myself have a hard time understanding. Having otherworldly trees is definitely one of them. I stand before one while I try to touch my toes without snapping my back. A metallic blue color cycles over the leaves, the bark itself inhaling and exhaling at a minute pace, as if the plant had lungs of its own. Trash littering all over the streets, I inhale deeply one more time. Nothing but fresh air. My sense of wonder could never be satiated by the breakthroughs of modern science. Debris, trash, used needles and genetically enhanced trees living in perfect harmony.

I walked at a light pace before jogging. Not even ten minutes into it and somebody waved at me. Her saggy skin dangled over her bonny frame, her baggy jeans and stained shirt not doing her any favors either. She had her blonde hair tied in a ponytail. A sad smile exposing her decaying teeth. Her pale skin was a map of abuse and reckless lifestyle and her veins told you a story of decades of needles and syringes conquering new territory.

“Morning Jen.” I took the first step, I can be many things but impolite wasn’t one of them.

“Morning, Ern.” She slurred a bit, which I wasn’t surprised since Janice wasn’t really somebody who jogged or engaged in any healthy activity whatsoever.

“How you doin’ hon? You look tired.” I regretted it as soon as those words left my mouth, because Jeniffer’s lips began quivering like a child that lost his toy.

“You know, I miss Herc. Ever since he got arrested I can’t function. He was everything to me and now he is out there, without me.” She used the back of her hand to wipe out her tears. For a moment I almost felt bad.

“He is a strong man, Jen.” A strong man who sold drugs right in front of her house, with her full collaboration I might add. Who would also beat her up frequently. “You guys are meant for each other and as soon as he gets back it would be like it never happened.” Of course until I call the police on him again or even Phantom himself. Janice might be confused by who he is and what he does, but I am not.

“You are the kindest neighbor anyone could ask for Ern,” she said. A smile slowly working its way into her face. “I know you don’t have much, but you still helped me as much as you could.”

“Come on, now. You gonna make me blush if you keep with all this flattering Jen. We can’t have that.” I offered a sympathetic smile.

She lowered her head. Her gaze seemed lost as if she was waiting for someone to tell her what to do. She brushed her blonde hair with her hand, patches of black and grey could be seen rising from the roots, but before I could be on my way she whispered to me.

“I understand, Ern. I get it.”

I didn’t know what to tell her so I just nodded to her and went on my way, my morning run spoiled by the encounter. As I got back home I took Pringles off the leash. He looked intently towards the door, not even glancing at his water bowl. I found it odd, I took a look between the doorframe and found the door still on lock. Circling around the house, the single-hung windows were all closed. Sufficiently at ease and unashamed of my paranoia, I entered my home, putting my wallet and my keys next to the TV.

As I headed towards the fridge, I saw two men having breakfast right in my kitchen. Unconciously, I took a step back.

“Good morning…” A chubby man wearing a black suit and black tie spoke before looking at his clipboard. “Ernest Montgomery.” He seemed proud of himself to be able to find my name for some reason. He was a white man probably in his forties, dark hair, clean shaven, standing by my fridge.

“Really Frank? We’ve been vetting him for months now and you still didn’t memorize his name?”

A bald black man dressed in the exact same suit responded while sitting in my chair, his eyes didn’t even leave the newspaper he was reading while he was scolding his partner. I couldn’t help but notice that in front of him was my favorite mug and a piece of toast. I reckon they made themselves at home.

Frank shrugged, his feet tapping the floor. “I am not very good with names.”

“Indeed,” his partner bit a piece of his toast, not a care in the world. It was hard to tell how old he was, but I would say late fifties or early sixties. He had a thin mustache, neatly trimmed. Even though the two burglars dressed the same, the man eating my food looked much sharper in his outfit, his hands moving with elegance as he slowly ate what was mine.

The goofy man with the clipboard proceeded to speak after clearing his throat. “Retired history teacher. Seventy two years old. Lived most of his life in-”

“Excuse me, I know how old I am and what I used to do for a living. Do you care to say what the hell are you two doing in my house?”

The black man lifted his eyes from his paper, looking towards Frank. “I told you he was polite.” As he did that, I glanced at the newspaper he was reading and I couldn’t understand a single word. It was written in scribbles and symbols. Nothing like I've ever seen before.

“Not that polite, he said hell after all.” Frank mumbled as he leaned towards his partner.

“We. Invaded. His. Home.” The other man said as he licked his finger and turned another page.

“But it is for a good cause?” Frank argued, tilting his head.

“No it isn’t.” The other man shot back.

Frank grinned, drumming his fingers on my chair. “Come on, Cedric. We are here to offer him a good thing.”

Cedric took his eyes from the paper for the second time. He slowly removed his reading glasses and looked straight at me. “Goddamn right.”