1 “Hold This”

Everyone wants to believe that they are the protagonist of their own story. But the simple fact is that most of us just aren't that interesting. If we're lucky, we could be a Love Interest or a Best Friend, but a Protagonist? That's a one in a million chance, and it's not always a good thing.

I'm certainly no Protagonist: my life is so simple and devoid of any serious problems that I bore myself thinking about it. I have no distinguishing features; you couldn't point me out of a lineup of one. Two loving and living parents send me to this average high school every day. Indeed, I am not someone whose life story would pique interest. Just a normal guy.

Class started a few minutes ago but everyone, teacher included, is waiting. The lights flicker ever so slightly and we know what to expect. Faster than the eye can see, a streak of electricity shoots out from a socket in the wall and lands between the first row of desks and the teacher. And just like that he appears, down on one knee in a very dramatic pose. Even though we've all seen this before, it's hard not to be impressed.

"You're late again, Lamar," our teacher Mr. Piers tries to sound as casual as possible, like that wasn't an amazing thing to see. Lamar stands up to his full height adjusting the straps of his book bag.

"Sorry, Mr. Piers," he offers a genuine apology.

"Hold-up in an alley?" he asks with a quirk of his eyebrow.

"Bank, actually," Lamar points out. Laconic as always. Our teacher mulls it over.

"I expect three pages on it by Friday, understood?"

"Yes, Mr. Piers."

"Good, now go take your seat." With a nod, the Protagonist of our class goes to his chair.

Lamar Brown greets people on his way to sit. His seat is next to mine. From this side, I can see the long scar he got in the accident which put him on the path of being a Protagonist. It's deep, jagged, and didn't heal very well on his otherwise smooth, dark face. An inch or two to the left and he would've seriously damaged his right eye. Maybe even lost it. The scar goes past his strong jawline down to his neck; if it goes any further I can't see it because of his shirt.

"What's up?" As casual a greeting as I can offer. I'm not sure if I can consider us to be friends. We're not openly hostile towards each other, but it's not like we've talked about anything besides school. Lamar turns to me.

"What's good, dude?" Sparks of electricity travel up his scar. Far as I can tell, it's an involuntary action. But I've noticed it happens a lot when I talk to him.

"Same old, same old." It's not really an answer, but then again he didn't really ask me a question. "You?"

"Same," he answers as he takes off his bomber jacket. I wonder if having millions or possibly billions of volts constantly running throughout your body is good for your muscles. Because his long-sleeved shirt is tight on him, he's as muscular as any athlete our school has to offer. His biceps threatens to rip the black fabric as he takes out his things. Though I suppose running around and fighting crime at all hours of the day is all the exercise he needs. What I really want to know is how his clothes aren't vaporized every time he turns into lightning. But I don't think we're close enough for me to ask such a question.

Class and school, in general, go by as usual. Everybody looks at Lamar and talks about his various exploits from either today or this week, real or rumored. But no one actually talks to him. It'd be like talking to...there isn't even a good analogy involving a famous person that I can use because here in Excelsior City, Lamar outranks everybody. Being the most powerful Protagonist in generations tends to put people on a pedestal. I can't say for sure if he has any actual friends. That thought takes up more space in my head than I'd like, and it certainly stays for longer.

With the school day over students pour out of the building, but Lamar stands near the curb. Almost like the parting of the sea, everyone gives him a wide berth. But he doesn't seem to care or notice because of whatever he's looking at on his phone. Curiosity pulls me over.

"What're ya looking at?" There's a map of the city on his phone, he's looking for something but I can't tell what. Electricity arcs up his scar as he notices me.

"It's a crime alert app. Just checking if there's any trouble around before I head home. I didn't bring my battery packs with me, so it could get dicey," he answers.

"Your battery packs?" He furrows his brow, thinking of how best to explain to me.

"I can generate electricity from my body." He holds out his hand and sparks leap from his fingers. They're a sharp blue, unlike the deep purple that traverses his scar. "But it can be exhausting to rely on it. So I usually use the electricity around me. Luckily, we live in one of the liveliest cities in the world." He closes his fist and the sparks die. "Anyway, doesn't seem to be any trouble so I'll head home for now." He checks his phone for a moment more. "Well, see ya." I half expect him to zip away but he starts walking down the street. It's the direction I'm headed in too, that's why I try to catch up with him.

"I actually go in this direction, too. Can I walk with you?" More electricity goes up his scar.

"It's a free country." With that, we fall into silence while we walk. Or at least what constitutes for silence in the city. It doesn't help that everyone recognizes Lamar, who tries his best to be polite and address the fans or reporters that approach him while still moving. A swarm of them surround Lamar and with what I think is his media face, starts answering their questions.

"How many men were robbing that bank?"

"Eight."

"Were there any casualties?"

"No, not a civilian or criminal died in that bank." He's clearly used to being ambushed like this, answering the questions with a steady voice.

"Do you think this was gang activity?"

"I can't comment on that. Ask the Excelsior City Police."

"Have you heard Crushed Velvet's offer?" A particularly stylish reporter asks.

"No, I haven't. What is it?" He asks back. The reporter takes out a tablet and shows him something. A screenshot from the official Crushed Velvet website announcing something.

"They're offering to make you a signature costume, free of charge if you fly out to their headquarters in Neon City." Crushed Velvet is a fashion group so prestigious they only dress the most influential of people: movie icons, musical legends, and the top-tier Protagonists. If they want to make him an outfit then he really is headed for the big leagues.

"That's nice of them, but I can't just leave my city like that. If they really want to do that for me, they can come here," Lamar answers. The group of reporters explode into dozens more questions. After all, who would turn down an offer from the one and only Crushed Velvet? "Alright I have to get going, so one more question. You in the back," he points to a short redhead. She pushes her way to the front.

"Hello, Lightning Demon," she greets him by his superhero name. It doesn't sound like someone who'd be saving the day, but it's just as scary to the criminals of our city. "What message do you want to say to the kids who look up to you?" The whole world seems to go quiet after she asks. Everyone points their recording devices or their phones at Lamar, waiting with bated breath.

"Well I still think I'm a kid but uhh…" he takes a second to think. "Always wear your seatbelts," he runs his finger over his scar as sparks shoot out from it "trust me." The media tries desperately for more questions as he makes his way out.

We walk in silence for a bit before I have to ask.

"Who turns down an outfit from Crushed Velvet? They ain't just giving those out, y'know. Do you know many people would kill for one?" I lightly slap his arm. "They'd probably give you a dope one too." His scar lights up.

"Yeah, but I can't just leave."

"I heard that answer. It's not like they're asking you to move to Neon City. I mean, I don't know how long it takes to make an outfit but still, man, it's Neon City! Wouldn't that be like, your own personal playground?" I'm not sure why I'm so excited for Lamar when I barely know him. "City of lights, so you can zip around and the City of Sin...I'm sure there are plenty of bad guys for you to stop." A small chuckle comes from Lamar.

"That may be true, but nothing beats Excelsior City," he says while sticking his arms up. He gestures to the various skyscrapers and gigantic TV screens around us. Just here in Sundial Square, he's spoiled for choice. "And besides…" he trails off. There's something he wants to say but thinks better of it. I want to ask what is it, but this is the most we've ever talked or hung out, so I decide not to push the subject.

We get to my train station; I'm about to walk down the stairs when Lamar grabs ahold of my sleeve.

"Uhh," he says with a kind of dumb look on his face. He gulps and more sparks go his scar. "I wanted to say...Tha-" He stops mid-sentence and turns to look at something behind him. I follow his eye line to two helicopters flying high above. It takes me a second to see that one is lower than the other.

"That helicopter is gonna crash. It's losing power fast!" he takes off his book bag and jacket, shoving them in my hands. "Hold this for me!" Before I can protest he takes a running leap, his entire body turns into blinding electricity and he soars through the air. A split second later he's on the side of the failing helicopter, forcing the door open. I didn't know he could turn into electricity like that. I can just barely see him from here but he seems to be talking to the pilot and someone else. He grabs them both before turning into lightning again, the people inside transform too. Lamar crashes into the ground just a few feet away from me, superheating the air around us. The people he took with him look very discombobulated, which is fair because a second ago they were literally electricity. Another thing I didn't know he could do. They get to their feet with some difficulty, but the pilot rushes over to a garbage can to vomit.

Lamar doesn't notice though, his full attention on the out-of-control helicopter. People around us have finally noticed what's going on and are starting to panic. But even that doesn't rattle him, he looks around, trying to figure out something I can't fathom. When he makes his decision he bolts through the air again, flying towards one of the buildings. Just as quickly as he returns to his human form, he lights his left hand with electricity, melting the concrete so he can get a handhold in the building. As he hangs off the side of this building I realize that's where the helicopter is going to crash. Everybody around me is still in a frenzy, but I'm frozen to my spot. I can only hold his stuff while I pray he knows what he's doing.

Lamar scowls and his body comes abuzz with sparks, the lights turn off in the building he's on. Then the building next to it darkens, and so does the next; in seconds all the buildings have their lights off. Lamar has drained the entire block, maybe more, of its electricity. I can see from my place on the ground that his eyes are glowing with energy. The helicopter spins in the air, plummeting; threatening to crash into Lamar, killing him and potentially dozens of people.

Not a moment too soon Lamar sticks out his free hand and what is easily the brightest thing I've ever seen shoots out in the form of a huge bolt of lightning. It strikes the helicopter, pushing it back a bit, slowing its descent a minuscule amount. He starts to scream as he brings his other hand around making the lightning bigger, stronger and somehow even brighter. It's an assault on the ears as well, a constant thunderous buzz shakes me to my bones. The sheer force of his power keeps Lamar pressed against the wall. The amount of electricity pouring out of him sears the air, making what was a mild afternoon suddenly swelteringly hot.

Though I don't want to, I have to shut my eyes before I blind myself. But it barely makes a difference as the light tries to burn through my eyelids. But just as quickly as it came, the light fades. I open my eyes expecting to see the charred remains of the helicopter. But there's nothing, no signs of damage to any of the buildings and I realize that Lamar disintegrated the entire thing. I look to him and see my classmate falling with his eyes closed. The once horrified crowd, now relieved; is once again terrified as we all watch the hero who just saved us fall to his death.

People scream and shout because that's all they can do. And it's all I can do too.

"LAMAR! WAKE UP!" I yell as loud as I can. And I know it's impossible for him to hear me, whether over all the other shouts or the distance between us. But Lamar has shown that the impossible doesn't matter to him; his eyes snap open and just before he turns into modern art on the sidewalk, he transforms into lightning once more and zips to safety. He reforms next to me and the people he rescued from the no longer existing helicopter. He's breathing heavily with his hands on his knees, drenched in sweat and the sleeves of his shirt have been pretty much obliterated. He stands up as straight as he can manage, his chest still heaving.

"You guys okay?" he asks them. The pilot gives a weak thumbs up, using the garbage can to hold himself up. "Drinks lots of fluid, you'll be fine. And you, ma'am?" he addresses a girl next to me. In the chaos of everything that just happened, I didn't take full notice of her. She's pretty, like a celebrity. She takes her dark brown dreadlocks and works them into a bun.

"I've been better admittedly," she says with an accent that I can't place. "But then, I could've been much worse. So it evens out. Thank you…?" The fact that she doesn't know him just by his abilities or face shows she's not from around here.

"Lamar. But some people call me Lightning Demon," he answers having caught his breath. If just a bit.

"Oh, so you're the Lightning Demon I've heard so much about. How fortuitous that you were here to save us. And everyone else too." She gestures to the oncoming mass of people no doubt on their way to badger Lamar with praise. He shakes his head, offering a world-class smile.

"Just doing my job. That other helicopter with you guys?"

"Yes, part of my escort," she says casually as if that's a completely normal thing.

"There's a helipad on a building two blocks over," Lamar points to his right, demonstrating his knowledge of the city. "You can meet up with them there. Have a safe flight this time." He nods to her and the pilot before he wobbly walks off, hoping to avoid the crowd. I watch him leave for a moment before I remember I have his stuff.

"Hey! Wait up!" Though it isn't that hard to catch up to him, since he's hardly steady on his feet. He stumbles his way to wherever he's headed. "Do you want your stuff or?"

"Huh?" He turns to me and there's a paleness to his skin. "Oh yeah, thanks." He reaches for his jacket with trembling arms. I pull it back.

"You good, dude?" His eyes are glazing over and I know the answer.

"Huh? No, yeah I'm fine. I was just gonna go to the uhh…" he vaguely points in a direction. "The park. Just need a quick-" he doesn't finish as he falls to his knees. I grab him before his face crashes into the ground.

"I'm guessing 'rest' was the word you were looking for," I say to what I hope is a fainted Lamar. His skin is clammy and his breathing is still heavy. His cheek leaves sweat on mine as I struggle to get him over my shoulder. "This is not how I thought this day was gonna go." It's bad enough he's already taller than me, heavier with muscle, and sweating but I also have to carry his stuff. I throw his jacket over him so no one notices I'm carrying an unconscious Protagonist.

I lumber along, carrying Lamar on my shoulder and sure enough, the great people of Excelsior City don't seem to care that an 18-year-old is carrying another 18-year-old down the street in the middle of the day. I take my phone out and follow its directions to the closest park. Though it was a few blocks over, it may as well have been a hundred.

My shoulder aches as I lay Lamar down on a bench. With what happened in Sundial Square, the park is pretty empty. The bench has a nice view of the lake, some trees and then the city behind it. I put Lamar's book bag under his head and use his jacket to cover his tattered shirt. I think better of the book bag and let his head rest on my thigh. It's only for a little while. He rests somewhat fitfully, muttering something to himself and even frowns from time to time.

I open the StoreRun app on my phone and see there are a few people on it. I hire the closest one and ask him to get a few sports drinks and a couple of sandwiches. Lamar will probably need it when he wakes up. His breathing has steadied and some color has returned to his face. Looking him over, I take in his features.

The scar pulls the most focus, cutting through his eyebrow almost going up to his forehead. His soft black hair is freshly cut short with a straight hairline. I suppose long hair would get in the way. He has very chiseled features, a strong jaw and cheekbones so defined you can trace them with a finger. His skin is the color of oak like mine. He's definitely something to look at.

More time must've passed than I thought because the Runner I hired is standing in front of me, awkwardly holding the bag of my requested goods. I pay him through the app and he gives a thumbs up and a wink like he knows something I don't. He scurries off and I watch the lake as the sun dips lower on the horizon.

An hour or so passes before I start to wonder if I should check on Lamar. He's sleeping more soundly now. Should I wake him up? He stirs, turning to lay on his side and moving his hand next to his head. I tense at the contact of his strong hand on my thigh. I'm afraid to move his hand after I saw what it's capable of...At least that's what I tell myself.

It figures the longest time I'd ever hang out with Lamar, has him asleep. Though I'm not sure that annihilating a vehicle, passing out, and then getting carried to a park counts as hanging out. Probably not.

Now it's 4:30, I'm scrolling through the news on my phone and people are, understandably, freaking out. Many are ranting and raving about how they didn't know that Lightning Demon was capable of something like that. It's a small comfort to know I wasn't caught off guard by that impressive display of power. There's practically no videos or pictures of the event as anyone close enough to know what was going on would've been blinded by the lightning. Someone even started a hashtag for sharing their stories of what happened.

"There I was in Sundial Square, minding my own business when a helicopter decides it wants to crash into a building. I'm about to dip when my man LD zapped it right out of the sky. You the GOAT! #SundialBlackout"

"Just when I thought this would be my chance to die, LD ruins it and saves the day. LMAO JK, you're the best! #SundialBlackout"

"LD turned a thoughts and prayers moment into a celebratory hashtag, real quick. Only in Excelsior City! #SundialBlackout"

"LD had that helicopter SHOOK! #SundialBlackout"

"I was in the shower when the power cut out. I fell and twisted my ankle. =^( Guess it's cool that LD saved a bunch of people tho #SundialBlackout"

"So LD can just, do that, huh? Ok. #SundialBlackout"

"Oh sure LD destroys a helicopter and he gets a hashtag. I destroy a helicopter and I ruin my son's birthday gift #SundialBlackout"

"I was in the bank that was robbed this morning when LD saved me. Then when I'm headed home through Sundial Square, he saves me again! I either got bad luck or really good luck! #SundialBlackout"

"I was working when the power cut out so I got to leave early. Thanks LD! #SundialBlackout"

The guy everyone is posting about is using me as a pillow. More and more posts flood the tag but I put my phone away to start eating my sandwich. There must an overabundance of lettuce because this sandwich is packed with the stuff. Some of it spills out when I take a bite, falling onto Lamar's face. I slowly brush the pieces of green from his cheek. My fingertips graze his full lips. They're surprisingly soft. A tiny bit gets in his scar. Slowly as I dare, I try to pick it out.

With a start, he opens his eyes and leans up. He searches around in that calculating way of his before he looks at his hand, which is firmly planted on my thigh. He quickly darts his hand away and clears his throat. Sparks go up his scar, destroying the lettuce in it.

"Hey." I'm not sure what else could be said to a guy you barely know who was just sleeping on your leg. He looks like himself again, however. "I got you some sports drinks. I didn't know which you would've wanted-" Lamar doesn't let me finish before he grabs the closest bottle and starts to chug the bluish liquid inside.

I sit in silence as I watch his throat work while he downs the drink, some of it spills from the side of his mouth and streams down his neck. With almost no effort he crushes the bottle once he's done and grabs another. He fiendishly finishes that one as well, gasping for air as if he just remembered he needs to breathe.

"That's good stuff." He wipes his mouth with his arm. "Need to get my electrolytes back up." He chuckles at his own joke. He looks around before he turns to me. "Did you carry me here?"

It takes me a second to realize he's talking to me.

"Y-Yeah I did."

"What happened?"

"Well first, you did the coolest thing I've ever seen. Then acted like it was no big deal. Then you fainted and I had to carry you here."

"I fainted?"

"Yeah."

He leans back on the bench and goes over the memory in his head.

"That sounds right." He stares at his hands for a moment. A tension goes through the muscles in his arms and electricity arcs between his hands. A frown forms on his face. "Still?" He lets out a deep sigh like he's disappointed by something.

"You don't sound like a guy who just saved the day. What's wrong?" He sighs before he answers.

"I've been a Protagonist for two and a half years now." I knew Lamar had been one for a while now, but two years? That's insane. "I've stopped robberies of all kinds. Kept a train from a derailing. Powered a lighthouse so that a ship wouldn't crash into the coastline down in Harbor Cove. I even fought that three-story robot that mad scientist released into Axle Park that one time." I remember reading about that, it was a weird day. "I've been shot three times." He points to little circular scars on his right arm. They're pretty close together, so he must've gotten them at the same time. "A cop I thought I could trust did that," he explains. Lamar lifts his shirt to reveal his sculpted abs. He points to a small scar just below his ribs. "Guy threw a knife at me during a hostage situation."

"What about this one?" I point to one on his deltoid.

"Oh, that's from a scratch I got on a loose nail."

"That's not an interesting story."

"The point is," he pulls down his shirt, "that I've done all this stuff and I'm still a Protagonist. And I don't know why. You know how someone becomes one right?"

"Yeah dude, they taught us that in kindergarten." There's no scientific explanation as to how people get the abilities they receive. All that's really known is they get them to correct or prevent something.

"Most Protagonists have their powers for a little while. A month or two. They do whatever it is they have to do and that's it. They get to go back to having their life on track." He shrugs. "But I still have my powers." He makes electricity dance around his fingers. "I've done so much but there's still something more for me to do!" Lightning skates across his skin. "I thought I had completed my Destiny but clearly not. When do I get to have my life back?!" He starts buzzing with electricity all over and I move over a bit. Lamar notices the movement and shuts down the sparks.

"Sorry about that. I didn't mean to dump all that on you."

"It's cool dude. Everybody needs to vent sometimes and you had a long day." I put my hand on his shoulder. He chuckles.

"Yeah, I guess I did."

"Think Mr. Piers will make you write about this too?"

"Nah, he only cares if it makes me late to class." Lamar grabs another drink and takes a sip. "You know he was a Protagonist years ago?"

"Really?" Lamar nods slowly.

"He had heat vision. Stopped a trained pack of wolves from killing some ambassador or something like that." Lamar swirls the bottle around as if it's a fine wine. "He was like that for a month, saved the day, and went back to normal." He runs his hand over his short hair. "A month, and here I am getting closer to three years." I'm not sure what I could possibly say to Lamar right now that would comfort him in any way. I can't imagine the stress he's under, so I stay silent and hope my presence is enough. I reach into the bag and pull out the second sandwich for Lamar.

He opens the paper it's wrapped in and looks at the sandwich.

"What's in this?"

"Turkey and cheese," I answer. He shrugs and takes a bite.

"There a boom of lettuce or something? Why is there so much in here?" he says around a mouthful of sandwich. I laugh, happy to see he's not moping anymore.

"I thought the same thing, dude." Lamar takes out a tomato slice and tosses it. "What will I tell the presses? 'Lightning Demon littering.' The whole country will go up in flames."

"It's biodegradable, it'll fine." He shoots me a very charming smirk and continues eating his sandwich. We sit in silence but it's a comfortable one.

Night seeps over us as the sun dives further into the horizon, Lamar has pretty eaten everything I bought and he seems well enough to walk. We leave our cozy bench and make our way over to the train station.

I turn to him before I descend the stairs.

"You sure you're good?" I feel stupid asking such a question. Even though he had fainted earlier, he still looks healthier than I've ever been. Lamar shrugs.

"Yeah, I'll be fine. I'm gonna zip home and rest in an actual bed. Not that your thigh wasn't comfortable or anything," he says with that bright smile of his. I shift on my feet somewhat as blood rushes to my face. I was kind of hoping he hadn't noticed that. Not sure how to take the comment either. I clear my throat, finding my words sticking a bit.

"That sounds like a smart move. See ya later, Lamar Brown." I want to make a quick exit but then Lamar says,

"See ya, Jason Duval." I stop in my tracks.

"You know my name?" the words come out more astonished than I want.

"Of course I do," he answers with a chuckle. I guess he wouldn't just let some guy he doesn't know take him to a park and feed him. A small nervousness I didn't know I had calms with the revelation. "I mean, we're friends; aren't we?" he asks, sounding more real question than hypothetical.

"Yeah, we're friends," I answer. Another wide smile splits his face. He closes the distance between us and extends his hand.

"Take care, Jason." It still sounds a little weird to hear his strong voice say my name. Like it's someone else's. I grip his hand and shake it.

"Take care, Lamar," I mirror his farewell. He smiles again before backing up.

"No promises!" He turns into electricity and zips into a power line. He leaves me standing there, dumbfounded again.

I guess I'm friends with a Protagonist, is that why I'm smiling so much?

Chapter 1 End