1 The Prodigy

"Mommy it's him!"

"He's a monster," a mother said as she grabbed her child's arm.

"But –"

Her grip tightened as she pulled her son to her. She hissed, "He is a monster," and pulled her child back the way they'd come.

Kyrie glanced at the them. He turned away and tugged at the teal ribbon wrapping his left wrist. A monster. No, no, he was starting over. She was a stranger, a rude stranger, that didn't know him. He was going to be normal and he'd never hurt anyone outside of defense, intentionally. Kyrie took a breath. No more thinking. The end of the ribbon slipped from Kyrie's grasp.

Kyrie looked up, up always held something interesting. The street he was on was full of tall buildings. The tallest of skyscrapers had monitors on them. Monitors that usually had ads, emergency notifications, and news. It'd been three months since he'd been able to check the news, along lonely three months.

Kyrie glanced at the different monitors until he found one with a news broadcast. His nails bit into his palms. What? How? How could they? It was – they were – he shouted, "They're still showing that? It's been three months!" He just wanted it to stop. He wanted to move on and leave his past behind. He never wanted to see that horrid, winged dragon again. He never wanted to see that news broadcast again.

A man on the street sharply turned and snapped, "Hey punk! You're being disrespectful to Legend Slayers!"

Kyrie turned to his left where a much larger man stood. Well shit. He closed his eyes. At least the door was still closed. He couldn't slip up and let it open now. Not here, not with so many people around. He opened his eyes.

Kyrie stood with his heart pounding. "You're saying I should show a little respect?"

The man crossed his arms and responded, "Yeah, that's right. They're the ones who keep punks like you safe."

Kyrie lowered his hood. He'd already drawn more attention than he wanted from one stranger to another. Yet, he needed someone to understand how much that video hurt him, how much it trapped him. How it shredded at his heart. How it reminded him of what he'd lost, of what he'd been before his new start, of a place he did and didn't want to remember.

He said, "Continuing to show it is disrespectful to the friends and family of those who died."

The man said, "What? They should be honored and remembered for protecting us." His arms tightened and his glare sharpened. The man snapped, "Especially, when they died protecting people like you."

The man hadn't recognized Kyrie. Perhaps Kyrie had been gone long enough or maybe he'd been gone too long. Either way, he should walk away. He'd be late, he'd miss his last opportunity at normal if he stayed.

Yet, they were still playing that clip and people thought it was okay. No, they thought it was right.

Kyrie couldn't take it. He tightened his grip and said, "Would you want a video of your loved ones dying shown on the news over and over?!" He pointed sharply to the monitor and asked in a voice that broke as his heart had three years ago, "How is that respectful?"

Kyrie's chest heaved with despair ladened breaths. This was supposed to be his chance. He was starting over. He had to start over. Yet they weren't letting him.

The man's arms draped loosely at his sides; his frame was ladened with guilt. "I… I hadn't thought of it that way."

Kyrie nodded and turned to leave. So many people were killed, and he couldn't do a thing about it. Yet, they still called him a hero. A hero would have saved them. He was no hero; he was a monster like the woman had said.

Kyrie paused for a moment to recompose himself with one careful breath at a time. He could do little for them now. It was time to move on, to move forward, to go somewhere new.

"I'm sorry for your loss," the stranger said as he watched the hurting child before him.

"If you're truly sorry, then go apologize to the dead." They were the ones who needed it not him, not Kyrie.

Kyrie glanced at the news broadcast to his right. The clip depicting the tragedy of Avalon was over. It was replaced by a picture taken four months ago. Now and in the photo Kyrie had shoulder length black hair with a set of long teal bangs resting next to his right eye. Both of his eyes were dark brown, and his skin was tanned from the sun – from all the time he'd spent fighting Legends in near deserted cities.

Kyrie's hand brushed the silky teal ribbon around his neck as his eyes landed on it in the picture. It was a ribbon exactly like the ones around his wrists and ankles. Underneath his picture was the caption *The Heroic LegendSlayer Kyrie Say*.

Kyrie pulled his hood up. He took a step, then another each one surer than one before. Kyrie was headed down his prior path. A path that led to the destination he'd chosen to move forward with a normal life as a student in a school.

Hopefully, he'd make it to his admissions meeting on time.