Victima dici possum?-LXXIX

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DATE:13th of August, the 70th year after the Coronation

LOCATION: Concord Metropolis

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The summons came in the morning. Hero HQ—not our agency. They wanted me to answer for what I did with Big Head.

I didn't want to leave Alice alone after last night, so I brought her along. It felt strange, walking into the imposing building with her by my side. She was quiet in her hero suit, her expression unreadable, but I could sense the weight still lingering on her shoulders.

The courtroom was massive, a hollow echo chamber with too many empty seats. It was just me and fifteen judges—agency leaders, people who thought their suits and titles gave them the authority to decide what heroism looked like.

Who were they to judge me for acting when they decided not to? License this, license that...

Sarah was among them, presiding over the session. She wouldn't meet my eyes.

The prosecutor launched into their spiel, reprimanding me for failing to notify my leader, for involving myself in such a publicized case without clearance. I stood there silently, letting their words wash over me. Fighting back wasn't worth the effort.

Then, the tone shifted.

They began praising me—for my actions, for my speech, for "protecting the image of heroes." They called me an inspiration, a shining example of what heroism should look like.

Apparently, my speech had been debated on every news channel all night long. People were calling me a hero in the truest sense of the word.

I stared at them, expressionless. If this had ended with punishment, I would've walked away from this whole hero thing without a second thought. Now what? Was I supposed to thank them? Accept a medal?

What a joke.

I left the courtroom, their empty words still echoing in my mind. As I stepped into the hall, a woman approached me. She was... colorful, to say the least—frilled skirt, mesh top, neon accessories, and enough piercings to set off airport security from a mile away.

"Hi there!" she chirped. "I'm an idol! Want to do a livestream with me? It'll be great for your new fans!"

I blinked at her, unsure what to make of her. Was she part of some cabaret band? Whatever idols were, I wasn't interested.

"I don't have time for belly dances," I said flatly, brushing past her.

She was very surprised by my words. It was later that Emily let me know that "Idols" weren't prostitutes, but how was I supposed to know? I am not active online. Either way I wouldn't have joined her.

Alice was waiting for me in a side room, still in her suit. She looked up as I entered, her eyes bright but cautious. Around us, other heroes milled about, many wearing masks similar to mine. Solidarity, maybe?

The drive back was quiet, until my phone buzzed. It was Sarah.

"You're getting a PR team," she said without preamble, "and a secretary to coordinate your schedule."

I frowned, gripping the steering wheel tighter. "What schedule? All I've done these past months is stop crimes I happen to come across."

"It's not for that," she said hesitantly. "It's for... interviews. Merchandising. Advertisements."

The frustration boiled over before I could stop it. "When exactly did I agree to any of that?"

She faltered. "It's normal practice. I thought—"

"You thought wrong," I snapped. My voice dropped, low and cold. "What would your cousin think of all this fake acting?"

There was a long silence on the line before she answered quietly. "He agreed with it. He thought it would help spread the message he stood for."

I hung up with a sigh, the weight of her words pressing against me.

UltraMan. The man everyone revered, the symbol of heroism... and now, a man I'd just lost respect for.

Even if he did that, on the best case scenario, to gather money for charity( but I don't know if that was the case), him agreeing is wrong by principle because it sets a bad example.

Who is he to pretend to be moral when he monetizes his own Act of rescue?

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DATE:14th of August, the 70th year after the Coronation

LOCATION: Concord Metropolis

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I was called in the morning. It was sarah. Her voice was unsteady, wavering like she'd spent the night crying. 

"I'm sorry—for everything," she said softly. "Can we meet? Please?" 

I hesitated but agreed. She suggested a small restaurant tucked behind a bookstore. It wasn't far, so I borrowed Alice's car. 

Alice had been quiet lately, barely leaving the apartment. She clung to my presence like a lifeline, but she needed to learn to stand on her own. Maybe a hobby would help, something to pull her out of her shell. For now, I left her behind. 

---

The restaurant was hidden, almost secretive. Its Venetian-inspired furniture gave it an old-world charm, with soft lighting and a quiet buzz of conversation filling the air. It reminded me of home, though without the criminals lurking in every corner. That was an improvement. 

Sarah was already there when I arrived, seated at a small table near the window. She looked rough—dark circles under her eyes, her usually immaculate noir hair a tangled mess. When she spotted me, she stood abruptly, closing the distance with a hug that nearly crushed me. 

Her super strength made it hurt, even with her holding back. "Let go," I muttered, prying her arms off me. "Calm down." 

She nodded, wiping her eyes as we sat. 

"I'm so sorry," she began, her voice trembling. "I shouldn't have assumed—about the PR, about any of it." 

I waved it off. "You didn't kill anyone, Sarah. It's not that serious. I was just pissed off after the trial." 

Her expression tightened, guilt still etched into her face. "It wasn't supposed to escalate like that. Pedona, the leader of a rival agency, insisted on a formal trial—she said that what you did endangered the reputation of heroes." 

I scoffed. "Reputation? Isn't that her job? Why didn't she step in if it mattered so much?" 

Sarah hesitated. "I don't know. Maybe she was... busy." 

I leaned back in my chair, the frustration simmering beneath my skin. "Busy," I repeated flatly. 

She quickly changed the subject, flipping open the menu and asking what I wanted to eat. 

"I'm not hungry. Order for me," I said. 

She nodded and glanced at the menu, her fingers tapping nervously against the table. "How's Alice?" she asked, avoiding my eyes. 

"She's fine," I replied curtly. I didn't know if she was aware of Alice's suicide attempt, and I didn't plan to volunteer that information. 

The conversation stalled momentarily before I pressed her. "Why did you want to meet, Sarah? You already apologized on the phone." 

Her face darkened. She looked down, as if collecting her thoughts, before meeting my gaze again. 

"You need to... 'go commercial,'" she said quietly. 

I raised an eyebrow. "What does that mean?" 

"The city is hanging by a thread," she continued, her voice strained. "You're the only thing holding it together. If you don't step up, there will be anarchy." 

I shook my head. "That's an exaggeration." 

She leaned forward, her eyes intense. "It's not. The Inquisition told me this directly. They have heroes who can read the future, and they're certain. If you don't build a presence—if you don't become someone people can look up to—the city won't survive." 

I let out a long sigh, leaning back in my chair. "And what does that have to do with selling T-shirts?" 

"It's common sense," she said, her tone softening slightly. "If there's no official merch, fakes will pop up everywhere. You can donate the money if you want, like Kevin did." 

I shrugged. "I'll keep it." 

Her eyes widened slightly, surprised. 

Why would I donate it? People might mistake me for a hero, but I've never pretended to be moral. I'm not starting now. Didn't I steal 10,000 Zols a few weeks ago? I'm not exactly an ideal role model.

The food arrived, but Sarah barely touched hers. "There's... one other thing," she said cautiously. 

I looked up, waiting. 

"You've been requested for a meeting," she said. "By the new Balmundi heir." 

I shrugged. "Fine. I'll go." 

She seemed surprised by my quick acceptance, but I didn't bother explaining. The food was getting cold, and this conversation had already drained me enough. 

We ate in silence. The soft clinking of cutlery against plates was the only sound as I pushed the food around, my appetite gone. Sarah barely ate either, her fork moving aimlessly as though she were trying to distract herself from her own thoughts. 

When we left the restaurant, the evening air felt sharper than before. The narrow parking lot behind the building was dimly lit by a flickering streetlamp, the kind of place you'd rush through if you didn't want to linger. 

Sarah turned to face me just as I reached Alice's car. Before I could say a word, she pulled me into another hug—tighter than the first one back at the restaurant. 

"Stop," I said firmly, my voice cutting through the quiet. I pushed her back, just far enough to put distance between us. 

Her red-rimmed eyes locked onto mine, pleading, desperate. She opened her mouth to say something but hesitated, her lips trembling before she could force out the words. 

"Why are you acting like this?" I asked sharply. "We were never close growing up. At Kevin's funeral, you despised me. And now?" I gestured toward her, angry but more confused than anything. "Why this? Why are you crying all over me like at the hospital. Calling me constantly that time I quit the hero business...." Seriously, From what I pieced of the conversations I had with Carter's parents, She and Will never as much as spoke when they weren't both with Kevin. So much for being cousins.

I paused, narrowing my eyes. "Alice never even called me this much when we split up, and she apparently felt bad about it. What's your excuse, Sarah?" 

Her hands shook slightly, and her lips parted, but no words came out. Then her face crumpled. "Stop belittling me," she said quietly, her voice breaking on the last word. 

The words caught me off guard. For a moment, I froze. What was happening here? This woman—this 35-year-old, one of the strongest heroes alive, my equal in height but far stronger—was breaking down like a child. 

She stepped toward me again, reaching for my hand. I slapped hers away instinctively, more reflex than intention. 

"Tch." My irritation boiled over. "You're a grown woman, Sarah. Act like it. Where's the serious leader I've heard about? The woman people rely on? Where did she go?" 

Her tears spilled over, quiet sobs shaking her shoulders as she collapsed to her knees. I stood there, baffled, as she reached out, her fingers grasping at the hem of my pants as though I were a lifeline. 

"Who the hell are you?" I muttered under my breath, shaking my head. "No, seriously, what happened to you?" 

She didn't answer, just cried softly, her words muffled and incoherent. 

Did stress really break her? Was this what leadership had done to her? The woman who led the largest hero agency in Concord was on her knees, breaking in front of me. And me? I was just standing there, useless, unsure of what to do. 

This wasn't the Sarah I remembered. No. Ever since Kevin's funeral, the cracks had been showing. The facade she wore—the responsible, composed persona—was crumbling. And now, the person underneath scared me. 

I sighed, glancing around the empty lot. Letting her cry here was pointless. It was embarrassing enough for her already, and I didn't want to draw attention from anyone who might happen to walk by. 

"Get up," I said sharply. "Let's talk in your car. We don't need an audience for this." 

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We sat in the back seat of her car, the blackened windows providing some privacy from the quiet street. Sarah wiped her face with trembling hands, though her tears were slow to stop. 

She looked disheveled—her hair a mess, her clothes slightly askew, her normally confident posture reduced to a slouch. Even like this, there was something striking about her, a beauty that had always been her strong suit. I realized, bitterly, that Kevin must've been doing all the real work behind the scenes. No wonder, she was the naive one out of them. The responsible persona she put on had broken her. 

"I'm sorry," she murmured, her voice hoarse. "I'm so sorry..." 

"For what?" I asked, irritation creeping into my tone. "Crying on me again? Acting like this? Just stop." 

Her lip trembled, but I didn't let her speak. I pulled out my phone, turned on the camera, and held it up to her face. 

"Look at yourself," I said bluntly. 

She blinked, staring at her reflection on the screen. For a moment, her tears stopped, shock flickering across her face. 

"You're an important person," I continued, my voice cold. "You can't act like this. People depend on you. The city depends on you. You don't get to break down like this, Sarah—not in your position." 

Her eyes widened, and her lip quivered again. "I... I can't do it anymore," she whispered. "I can't carry this alone. I need help." 

I exhaled slowly, lowering the phone. "Then step down. Let someone else take over if it's too much." 

She shook her head violently, her messy hair falling into her face. "I can't. There's no one else." 

"Yeah, there is." I leaned back, my voice cold. "Find someone. You'll break completely if you keep this up." 

Her response came quickly, almost desperate. "You should do it." 

I froze, staring at her in disbelief. "What?" 

"You should be the new leader," she repeated, her voice trembling. "You're the only one who can handle this." 

I scoffed, shaking my head as I reached for the door handle. "Absolutely not. I'm not the right person for that." It would feel hypocritical to try and fill the position of the man I killed.

Before I could push the door open, her hand shot out, grabbing my wrist with a strength that made me flinch. 

"Don't go," she said, her voice breaking again. Her eyes were wide and desperate, her tears streaming down her face once more. 

I turned, ready to shake her off, but she moved quickly, climbing onto my lap in one smooth motion. 

"Stop, Sarah," I said firmly, grabbing her jaw with both hands to hold her back. My voice stayed steady, but my chest tightened as her tear-streaked face hovered too close to mine. 

"Please," she whispered. "Don't push me away..." 

Her strength overpowered mine as she broke through my grip, pressing her lips against mine before I could stop her. She forced herself onto me. I won't go into detail, but by the time the reality of it sank in, I found myself staring through the car window, numb. What could I even have done? Sarah wasn't just stronger than me—she could have snapped my neck with one hand if she wanted to. 

At some point, she seemed to realize what she'd done. She scrambled back to the other seat, curling into a ball like a child and hiding her face in her hands. Her muffled sobs filled the silence of the car, the interior now suffocating with the weight of what had happened. 

What could I say? What the hell do you even do in a situation like this? Call the Civil Militia? This is Sarah—the Sarah—one of the most important figures in Concord, the head of the largest hero agency in the city. If this got out, it wouldn't just destroy her; it would shatter the league's already fragile reputation. It would drag Ultraman's name through the mud, tarnish everything Kevin worked for, and send the city straight into chaos. SuperiorWoman my ass.

But it wasn't about her reputation. It wasn't even about the league. A part of me scoffed bitterly at the absurdity of it all: she raped me, *raped me,* and now she was sitting there crying like I was supposed to comfort her. 

I wasn't crying. I wasn't shaking. Why would I? If being torn to pieces didn't faze me, why would her pathetic breakdown? The truth was, I didn't even know how to react—because nothing about this felt real. 

Sure, let's say she admired me. Maybe she even looked up to me. But to do... this? Because she was afraid I'd leave her? That's not admiration—hell, I don't even know what to call it. And the worst part? She's lucky the real William is dead, because if he were here, he'd never forgive her for what she's done. 

Through the corner of my eye, I could see her curled against the door, trembling, her shoulders shaking as her cries grew quieter. It was like she'd forgotten I was even there, like she was lost in her own head. 

What the hell was I supposed to say? That it was okay? That I understood? *Hell no.* 

But I couldn't afford to push her away either. Not now. Not if I wanted to find that necromancer. Not if I wanted this city to survive. The League was already hanging by a thread. Between Blazer, the Crusader, and everything else falling apart, this mess could tip it over the edge. 

I sighed, running a hand down my face. "Sarah," I said sharply, but she didn't respond. "Sarah, look at me." 

Still nothing. 

I leaned over and grabbed a handful of her hair, pulling just enough to force her to lift her head. Her tear-streaked face turned toward me, her eyes wide and red and empty. 

"You're a complete idiot," I said bluntly, my voice cold and steady. "If you think stress excuses this—if you think *anything* excuses this—then you're delusional. What you did is inexcusable, and nothing you say will change that." 

Her lip quivered, and fresh tears threatened to spill down her cheeks. "I—" 

"Shut up," I snapped, cutting her off. "Don't give me excuses. Don't start crying again. You think I'm going to pity you after this?" 

She pressed her hands to her face, stifling her sobs as best she could. 

"I'm not going to let you off the hook," I continued, my tone softening just slightly. "You're not getting out of this by breaking down and hiding in a corner. You need to take responsibility—for yourself, and for what you've done." 

Her hands lowered slightly, her eyes darting to mine, pleading. "I... I can't. I can't fix this. I can't—" 

"You can start by getting help," I said firmly. "Go to a therapist. Take time off. Do *something,* because if you keep going like this, you're going to self-destruct. And guess what? You don't get to take me down with you." 

She flinched at the words, her gaze dropping again. 

I adjusted my jacket, taking a deep breath to steady myself. "In the meantime," I said, "hand over the leadership position. I don't care if it's temporary or permanent, but you're clearly not fit to keep running things right now." 

She shook her head weakly. "I can't. I can't step down. The league—" 

"Will survive," I interrupted. "We can't afford to have a leader who's falling apart at the seams. You're not helping anyone in this state—not yourself, not the city. Hand me the reins until you get your shit together." 

Her gaze snapped back to mine, her lip trembling. "You'll forgive me?" she asked weakly. 

I closed my eyes, exhaling slowly. "Maybe," I said honestly. "I don't know. That's not what this is about right now." 

For a moment, she just sat there, staring at me, her tears drying on her cheeks. Then, slowly, she nodded. She gave no verbal response, but the defeated look in her eyes told me everything. 

I opened the car door and stepped out without another word. The cold air hit me like a punch, but I didn't care. I needed to clear my head. Needed to think. The world around me felt heavier than ever, but this? This was something I'd carry alone.

Emily was of course aware of what happened through the microphone and as I drove back to Alice's apartment, she wanted to comfort me, but I told her to drop it. I was just so out of it.

Even stranger was how happy alice was. You wouldn't think that she tried to take her own life just a few days ago. She even made advances on me, but I told her I wasn't feeling well. I didn't go into detail, but my pelvis really hurt. That vile creature hit me like metal. Alice would snap if she knew what happened. She only has the idea that I met Sarah.

Fuck. It was strange how happy she was... joking with me about the tv shows we watched. You don't just go from one state to another. She would certainly try to kill Sarah if she knew the truth. Could she succeed? Perhaps. I don't know if her gravity manipulation is enough, but she did bend metal so it is possible. I certainly wouldn't want to see this fight.

We continued watching tv until late in the evening, before going too sleep. I didn't have any thoughts beside asking what was I doing with my life.

This section provides a stark contrast between the narrator's internal turmoil and the external appearances of the people around him, creating an emotionally layered, tense dynamic. The juxtaposition between Emily's quiet awareness, Alice's seemingly uncharacteristic happiness, and the narrator's own mental and physical exhaustion deepens the complexity of the relationships.

The drive back to Alice's apartment was quiet, the hum of the engine the only sound filling the space. Emily's voice crackled softly in my earpiece, offering words I didn't want to hear. 

"I'm here if you want to talk," she said, her tone hesitant but filled with concern. 

"Drop it," I muttered, cutting her off. I didn't have the energy for this conversation. 

When I walked through the door, Alice was sitting on the couch, a pillow hugged tightly to her chest. Her face lit up when she saw me, a bright smile spreading across her lips. 

"You're back!" she said cheerfully, almost bouncing as she patted the seat next to her. 

Her happiness caught me off guard. Just days ago, she'd tried to take her life, drowning in despair. And now? Joking, laughing—like nothing had happened. 

Was it real? Could someone really snap back that quickly? 

"You're in a good mood," I said cautiously, lowering myself onto the couch with a slight wince. My pelvis ached from earlier—Sarah had hit me like a tank. 

"Yeah, well, I've been thinking," Alice replied, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "I can't stay sad forever, right? Life's too short." 

Her words hung in the air, and for a moment, I couldn't tell if she meant them. 

She shifted closer, her knee brushing against mine. "Hey... you've been so good to me. Maybe I could repay the favor," she said, her voice dipping into something softer, almost suggestive. 

I tensed, pulling away slightly. "I'm not feeling well." 

Her face fell, just a little, but she hid it quickly behind a smile. "Okay, no problem," she said, turning her attention to the TV. 

We sat there for hours, flipping through channels and half-watching sitcoms neither of us cared about. Alice laughed at the screen, making little jokes about the characters, but I barely heard her. I was too preoccupied with my own thoughts. 

She doesn't know. She only knows I met Sarah. If she knew the truth... 

I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye. Could she handle it? No. She'd snap. This lighthearted Alice, joking about TV shows, would disappear in an instant. And if she ever confronted Sarah... 

I shook my head, brushing the thought away. Alice's gravity manipulation was powerful—she could bend metal with ease. Could she win in a fight against Sarah? Maybe. But I doubted it would end well for either of them. 

The hours dragged on until the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the room in a dull, orange glow. Alice eventually fell silent, her head resting against the back of the couch as she stared absently at the screen. 

I watched her for a moment, wondering where the line was between her recovery and whatever this was. People don't just go from one extreme to the other. Not like this. 

When she finally turned off the TV and headed to bed, I stayed behind, staring at the blank screen. I didn't have any thoughts besides asking myself, What am I doing with my life?-*-*-*-*-*