It was well past midnight, and the room was dark, still, and silent. Apollo knew they were coming for him. He could feel it. He didn’t know when, and he didn’t know where, but he knew sooner or later he’d have to face off with the police. Having a showdown with them wasn’t necessarily the issue though. Killing them or surrendering his freedom was the question keeping Apollo awake.

He glanced at the clock on the table: 2:42 a.m. In a few hours, the Sun would rise, and the city would spring to life with people going through their automatic morning routines. The worst part about it was they didn’t even realize they were running automated programs disguised as normal behavior. They were like robots. Some could even pass for zombies.

During the seventy-two hours or so Apollo hadn’t slept, it was the same thing he noticed every morning on his way to the Windham library. Tired, miserable working-class men and women slogging their way onto the buses, wishing they could be anywhere else instead of having to do the same thing every morning for a paycheck that could barely put food on the table. All you had to do was look into their eyes and see the turmoil brewing inside them: the disgust, the doubt, the question of where it all went wrong.

Apollo could sympathize, though, because he was on the verge of becoming just like them: enslaved. But, instead of being shackled by a job he couldn’t stand, working under an incompetent boss far dumber than him, he was going to be shackled in chains, rotting away in a prison cell for a crime he never committed. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but that’s how life worked apparently.

“So in the end, it seems Donovan got the last laugh after all,” Apollo said woefully. “Such is life, I suppose. The ones who mean well end up serving sentences for the ones who don’t.” Apollo shook his head.

He went inside the bathroom and envisioned the lights flicking on to which they obeyed. Red, baggy eyes staring back at him through the mirror. His dreads looked like a bird’s nest on his head, and a hint of stubble grew on his chin as he peered closer at his reflection.

“So this is supposedly what a school shooter looks like, huh.” Apollo used his mind to switch off the lights and exited the bathroom, his feet lazily dragging across the floor. He stumbled on top of the bed and curled into a ball.

You have all the power in the world to crush those who oppose you, yet you lie here feeling sorry for yourself?

Apollo shivered at the voice in his head, pulling his knees closer to his chest. “I don’t know who you are or where you came from, but you need to stop.”

Nonsense. You know exactly who I am and where I came from. I am the one you see in the mirror every time you step inside the bathroom. I am the manifestation of the rage you’ve been carrying inside your heart since Mama died.

“Shut up,” Apollo said behind clenched teeth.

You and I are one and the same, and you will kill—

“Shut up, shut up, shut UP!” Apollo hugged his knees as tightly as he could. “I can’t kill them for doing their job,” he said. “That’d go against everything I stand for. I’m not breaking the promise I made to my Ma.”

You can, and you will before they end up abusing the very citizens you swore to protect.

“What do you mean?”

Don’t be a fool. Police officers aren’t there to serve the community or protect those who are in need. They’re there to enforce the law and impose their will on individuals who look like you. Those who cannot afford to live in a manner acceptable by society. In their eyes, you’re no different than the critters you seek to destroy.

Apollo listened to the accelerated beats of his heart thump in his ears, his face boiling hot. “You lie!”

Do I? Then why has every officer you’ve encountered demanded you never question their authority?

Apollo didn’t have an answer to that question.

Deep down, you know it’s the truth.

“I know what you’re trying to do,” Apollo said, fighting every urge to contain the energy bubbling in his head.

If you wish to protect the innocent and the weak, you must learn to embrace the power you were blessed with and terrorize those who stand in your way.

Apollo groaned at the searing pains shooting from his head.

Don’t fight it, Apollo.

“No, get out of my head!” The curtains billowed on their own as if moved by a powerful wind.

That’s it, Apollo. Just let it out. Succumb to your rage.

“I refuse to listen to your lies any longer!” Several crooked lines formed on the window, splintering clinks of glass behind the curtains.

Excellent.

Apollo gripped the sides of his head as tight as he could, hoping his brain wouldn’t explode. “I won’t … allow … you … to transform me … into something … I’m not!” Lines on the ceiling sprouted in various directions as pieces of drywall crashed against the floor, revealing broken lengths of wood.

Yes, Apollo. Let it all out. Allow your rage to take over.

“Calm down, Apollo,” he muttered over and over again like it was a mantra. He’d hoped his voice would’ve tuned out the one whispering in his mind.

Stop trying to fight it. You’ll never win.

“Get out of my head!” Apollo growled, springing from the bed, crunching pieces of drywall beneath his feet. “I told you already that I’m not the monster you think I am, so just go AWAY!” He banged his fists against the floor.

How do you expect to protect the innocent locked away in a prison cell?

Apollo froze at the question, the sweat from his face rolling down his nose and dripping onto the floor.

You’re not really going to sacrifice your freedom for those critters, are you? Didn’t you make a promise to Mama that you’d never allow injustice to be bestowed upon those who couldn’t defend themselves?

Apollo’s abdominals twisted at the question, his lungs struggling for air.

If she were alive to witness this right now, she would be so disappointed with you. A failure yet again.

The energy raging in his body evaporated completely as his eyes started to swell with water. What if it was right? Apollo couldn’t fulfill those promises by spending the rest of his life behind bars for a crime he didn’t commit. The thought alone was asinine.

“What am I supposed to do?” he asked the darkness, sobbing into the crook of his arm. “Why did you have to die?”

Only silence responded.

#

In times of dire stress, nothing provided more comfort than immersing yourself in nature. Leaves from the ground stirred and floated across the summer air as Apollo plodded along the forest back from his time spent at the library. After last night’s horror show, he had to check out immediately and find somewhere else to stay, not taking the risk of drawing unnecessary attention to himself. Luckily the concierge working the front desk was nice enough to inform him there had been another hotel in the area only a couple of blocks from the one he was staying at. Apollo didn’t even know how much longer he’d be in the city given the circumstances.

Apollo whipped around to the sound of crackling branches. He waited a moment, darting his eyes in every direction possible. Any moment now, men dressed in tactical armor would’ve jumped from the bushes and swarmed him with guns drawn ready to shoot.

Apollo turned his head left and right, nothing appearing out of the ordinary. “Just a false alarm,” he said, breathing a sigh of relief.

A couple of squirrels skittered around in the bushes, chasing each other as one of them quickly spiraled up a tree, the other one following behind. So they’re the culprits. Apollo smiled. Fast little rascals they were. His smile faded from his lips at the sudden realization that all of this could’ve come to an end within the blink of an eye. Instead of admiring the beauty of nature, he’d be staring at a set of iron bars for the rest of his life.

Apollo made every minute of his time spent at the library count, learning as much as possible about criminal investigations and interrogations. What happens after a crime is committed, what questions would they ask in the event they had suspected you of a crime, and what questions should you ask in particular if you weren’t the one who committed the crime. Studying the interrogator’s body language, what they looked for in your body language, and what sort of psychological tactics they implemented to break down their suspects into submission. Since there were guns involved, studying online case studies about gun homicides would prove fruitful if they tried to force a confession out of him. Something they’d never receive. Nobody could force anyone to confess to something they never did.

A man up ahead wearing a green shirt and denim shorts came running from the bushes holding his face, screaming as he tumbled to the ground in obvious pain. He couldn’t have been older than twenty-five.

“Get ’em! Get ’em!” a female voice shouted. Four individuals appeared from the bushes. The three males in the group looked no older than Apollo, but the girl holding the iPhone looked younger than the rest.

“Please stop!” the injured man cried as one of the boys picked him up and slammed him head-first to the ground. He let out another shriek of pain, holding the side of his face.

Apollo narrowed his eyes at the stocky boy as he took off his plain white t-shirt and threw it at the man.

“Nicely done, Ryland!” the girl said, turning her iPhone to make silly faces and then back toward the injured man. Ryland stood in front of her while she filmed, flexing his muscles. Bad decision on his part.

“Is he crying?” the boy with the frizzy hair laughed, towering over the rest of them. He stood over the wounded man and laced him with a few punches to his face and body, ending his assault with a stomp to the man’s head.

Adulation erupted from the four of them. They all mocked the poor man for the way he cried out in pain as he curled into a fetal position. The chubby black boy kept turning toward the iPhone, imitating how the man looked, constantly twisting his face to the side. He then pointed to the man and labeled him a retard, spitting on him afterward.

“I didn’t do nuffin’ to you,” the man croaked. He reluctantly stood to his feet and wiped the spit away from his face.

The boy with the frizzy hair walked up to him and threw two more punches to his face and body. “C’mon pussy, do something ’bout it.” He punched him again in the back of the head. “C’mon pussy, do some shit.” Another punch landed, this time grazing the back of his shoulder. “C’mon pussy!” He shoved him hard to the ground and kicked him in the stomach. Another shriek of pain wafted throughout the air.

All three boys hovered over him, laughing as the man cried on the ground clutching his stomach. “Ashlee, come get a close up of this,” the chubby black boy said, waving her over like he’d discovered a pot of gold. “Aww, look at the poor retard!”

“You guys are so mean to him.” Ashlee laughed, turning her iPhone camera around again. She stuck her tongue out, made more silly faces, pouted her lips, and removed strands of brunette hair away from her eyes. She obviously thought this was a game.

Kill them. Apollo winced as the voice growled in his mind.

“Who the fuck’s that?” the boy with the frizzy hair said, turning his attention to Apollo.

“Hey kid, Ryland said, “get the fuck outta here before something bad happens to you.”

Apollo’s eyes twitched, struggling to tune out the voice buzzing in his head. “It seems the four of you get a kick out of torturing the likes of others,” he said, looking at the injured gentleman on the ground. He had a lump over his forehead, a cut over his bottom lip, and dark red bruises plastered over his arms and legs.

“Yeah, and we’ll kick your ass next if you don’t fuck off.” Ryland balled his hands into fists.

Apollo shifted his eyes back to the four of them, anger swimming throughout his body.

“Nigga, is you deaf?” Frizzy asked, its arms stretched out wide like it was daring Apollo to do something. “Take your bum lookin’ ass on outta here before you get dealth with too.” All of them laughed except for the girl. It was more of an uncomfortable half-smile than anything else. Her iPhone also wasn’t as high as before, and the silly faces were replaced with worry and shame. Now it seemed like she didn’t want to be there in the first place.

That’s because she’s about to die a very violent death!

Apollo winced again, grabbing his head. “You have to stop!” he said.

“Who’s he talkin’ to?” Frizzy asked.

“Yo, he might be retarded also,” the chubby black boy said.

“You’re all going to die if you stay here,” Apollo said, pressing his teeth together. The pulsing energy crackling within his body lit up his skin like he’d combusted into flames.

Chubby took off its shirt, tits bouncing as it shook its fists in the air. “Let’s go bitch!”

Ryland sprinted forward, throwing a punch at Apollo’s face.

Apollo became submerged in the power again and reached up with his mind, freezing Ryland’s pitiful punch in its position. Rocks, twigs, and leaves steadily spiraled into the air, fluttering as though on a gust of wind while the trees around them rustled and swayed ferociously.

“Wh-who … the … fuck … are … you?” Ryland gritted its teeth and furrowed its brows as it exerted more force into its punch.

Apollo peered into its eyes and saw the fear building around the edges, slowly creeping its way toward the center. The air around Apollo trembled and sizzled, energy bubbling throughout his body like he was struck by lightning. “Your destroyer.”

Ryland’s body rose into the air.

SPLAT!

Ryland split apart into several fragments.

Blood rained down on them as Chubby, Frizzy, and Ashlee tried to escape. Apollo used his mind to pin Ashlee to the ground so she couldn’t move while Frizzy and Chubby exploded just before they tried escaping into the bushes. The sound of their remains slapping wetly against the trees was beautiful to Apollo’s ears.

“ARGH!” Ashlee screamed at the top of her lungs, her tan skin now as pale as winter’s frost. “Pl-pl-please, please don’t kill ME!” Parts of her face and t-shirt were smeared with critter blood.

Apollo knelt before her, tilting his head to the side. “Ironic, isn’t it? When you were recording your friends torturing that man, you thought it was all fun and games. Now that you’re in his position, it’s no longer funny anymore. Why’s that?”

Ashlee started to bawl. “PLEASE! I’m s-s-sorry!” Her lips quivered. “They m-made m-me do it!”

Apollo scoffed at her pathetic response. “Now you understand how he felt when he was begging the rest of you to stop, but no,” Apollo shook his head, “what did you do? You kept recording, taunting, mocking, and assaulting him because he looks different.”

“No, please, I’m sorry!” she shrieked. “I-I-I’m so sorry! I should’ve known better! I didn’t want to record them but they forced me to!”

Apollo looked down into her water-filled eyes, a smidgen of sincerity pouring out of them. “Bullies like you don’t deserve life.” Her breathing quickened. “I used to live with a couple back home. I was surrounded by them at school, having to live with the abuse, the embarrassment, the torture they’d inflict for their own pleasure.” Apollo’s heart started to accelerate, his nostrils flaring, ears steaming. It was tempting to kill her right then and there.

Do it. Kill her now.

“You inflict pain on others for the sake of hurting them. Like it’s some sort of game. And then you record videos and upload it to social media, sharing them as a form of entertainment. All for likes, comments, and views. You disregard the feelings of the one inflicted, and like a drug, it becomes addictive after a while, finding yourself unable to stop.” Apollo stood to his feet, relaxed, and released her from his mental grip so she could move again. “Delete the video, now.”

Her shaky fingers fumbled over the screen of her iPhone as she tapped furiously against it. “There, it-it’s deleted,” she said, her voice wavering in and out of breaths.

“Show me.” Apollo looked at the device trembling in her hands as she swiped back and forth, indicating she’d deleted the video. “Here’s how things are going to work,” he said. “Not only are you going to apologize, but since his life was at the mercy of the four of you not too long ago, your life will now be at the mercy of his.” Her eyes flickered toward where he was sitting. “I feel it’s only fair, wouldn’t you agree?” Apollo looked at her and nodded. “I’m going to ask him if he’ll forgive you, and if he says ‘yes,’ you’ll be free to go. If he says ‘no,’” Apollo paused, “you’ll suffer the same fate as those critters you considered to be your friends.”

A small part of Apollo hoped he didn’t forgive her just so he could do away with her also. The world didn’t need people like her, but she seemed to be a victim of peer pressure. People will do anything despite how wrong it may seem just to feel part of a crowd. She seemed like one of those young teens still trying to find her identity and the product of a poor environment. Deep down, she was probably lonely like Apollo was at that age.

Terror filled the gentleman’s eyes as Apollo approached him, Ashlee following not too far behind. The man groaned and held his hand up, scooting backward as quickly as his injured body allowed him to.

“Shh, shh,” Apollo held a finger to his lips, kneeling before him. “It’s okay,” he said as calmly as he could. “You don’t need to fear me.”

“Please, don’t hurt me, don’t hurt me! I didn’t do nuffin’!” The man trembled, taking quick breaths. It was sad to see how he perceived any and everybody as a threat.

Apollo shook his head. “No, no, I promise I’m not going to hurt you. All I want is to see if you’re all right.” He shook him gently with his hand and smiled his friendliest smile. “She has something that she wants to tell you.” Apollo pointed to the girl.

Ashlee knelt before him, hands trembling, rubbing away at her wet eyes. “I … I’m so s-s-sorry,” she took a few deep breaths. “I d-didn’t m-m-mean to hurt you … the way I did.”

Apollo could see the regret pouring from her face. “Do you accept her apology?” The gentleman looked back and forth between the two of them like he was confused before eventually nodding his head. “Do you forgive her for what they did to you?”

The gentleman looked at Ashlee again, her tears flowing profusely down her cheeks as she awaited his response. Had he not shown up to put an end to their madness, who knows how long they would’ve continued to torture this innocent man.

“Don’t cry,” the gentleman said. “I forgive you for hurting me.” Ashlee breathed a sigh of deep relief and jumped over to hug him. She should’ve considered herself lucky he was so forgiving.

“Now go home and let this be a lesson you never forget,” Apollo said.

Ashlee nodded her head and scurried down the pathway. Apollo watched her as she ran, still contemplating on if he should’ve killed her or not. Unfortunately, the man forgave her so Apollo had to keep his word. Hopefully, this was a mistake she would’ve learned from and used it as a life lesson to stand up for someone else’s well-being.

“Th-th-thank you …” the gentleman said, “for rescuing me.” He hesitated to look up, constantly bringing his eyes about halfway to Apollo’s knees then back toward the ground.

Apollo extended his hand forward in greetings. “I’m Apollo.”

The gentleman shifted his eyes toward Apollo’s hand. He stared at it for a long time, undecided if it was worth the risk of returning the gesture.

“I promise you have nothing to fear,” Apollo said, understanding why the man was still a bit apprehensive. Words meant very little in today’s society; actions were everything.

“You s-swear?” The gentleman finally looked into Apollo’s eyes.

“On my life.”

The gentleman reluctantly brought his hand forward as Apollo gently pulled him to his feet. “My name’s M-M-Merlin,” he said, hunching over, nursing his ribs.

“It’s nice to meet you, Merlin.” Apollo smiled. Merlin did his best to return the gesture, the pain still very evident on his face.

“If it weren’t for you,” Merlin said with a groan, “they probably would’ve killed me.” He coughed. Apollo rested one of Merlin’s arms around the back of his neck, so he had someone to lean on as they walked. “Praise be to God for sending one of his angels to help me live another day.”

“Yeah …” Apollo said, uncertain of how to feel being considered an angel of God. The event was nothing more than a stroke of coincidence. If God was really as benevolent as Merlin may have thought, perhaps it wouldn’t have allowed him to be abused like he was in the first place, but that was neither here nor there. “No one was going to kill you,” Apollo continued, “not on my watch.”

“The world could use more people like you, you know that,” Merlin said, coming to a stop. “Real-life superhero’s who use their special abilities to fight crime. I’d never seen nuffin’ like what you did,” Merlin said, the excitement burying the pain in his voice. “I don’t know how you managed to do it, but I’ll be forever indebted to you. I’m sorry I don’t got nuffin’ to pay you back.”

“Don’t mention it,” Apollo said. “Getting you to a medical center is a good enough reward.”

Merlin forced out what seemed like a painful chuckle. “Thanks, Apollo. That means a lot to me.”

Apollo and Merlin started again, exiting the forest as a heap of questions and thoughts lingered inside his mind. How do you expect to protect the innocent locked away in a prison cell? Apollo dwelled on the question from last night. The fact of the matter was there were many more individuals across Ontario and beyond, like Merlin, who desperately needed help. The world could use more people like you, you know that. Real-life superhero’s who use their special abilities to fight crime. Perhaps running from the police wasn’t the answer after all, despite how wrong it may have appeared to stand against them.

If you desire to protect the innocent and the weak, killing those who wish to take your freedom away is your only solution. That’s if you truly want to fulfill the promise you made to Mama.

Apollo wiggled his mouth around and then sighed. As uncomfortable as it was to admit, the voice in his head may have been correct. If the police were coming to take his freedom away, Apollo may have just needed to do the unthinkable.

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