Heroes.
There was a time when that word made me feel safe. It probably still did for most ignorant people.
A time when it actually meant something. A time when I wanted to be one.
But the world always has a way of opening your eyes, even if it does so by fucking your life over.
I admired heroes a lot during my childhood, sitting in front of the TV watching Caviar City News about how Overtor stopped a bunch of bank robbers during their getaway.
It was blood-pumping and cool watching him on his modded bike during that car chase, and that was probably what got me hooked on wanting to become one. A hero.
I wanted to be cool. Yup, no sense of justice or burst of righteousness made me want to wear a mask and save people left and right.
I wanted people to look at me and go 'Yeah, that guy is cool'. Now, I'm not saying a sense of justice wasn't present at all. It probably was, somewhere. I think. Years ago.
"If you have time to daydream, then you fucking have time to get on that fucking scooter ASAP!" A voice rose behind me, breaking me out of my daze.
"Shit!" I muttered under my breath. "On it, Tony," I said as my eyes went back into focus and I realized I'd been staring at a billboard of Overtor advertising another 'hero awareness' campaign across the street from the glass window of the pizza place where I worked.
Overtor smiled down at the city from the billboard thirty feet above the street.
Funny. He'd been smiling that same way the day my life fell apart.
"I don't pay you to stare out on the street, kid," Tony said as I turned to face him.
Light blurred my vision a bit from the man's bald head reflecting it. He was tall, probably 5'10 or 5'11. I really couldn't pinpoint his accurate height. With a belly that suggested he had a fondness for his pizzas than any of his longtime customers.
'Yeah, he probably uses baby oil on that mirror he calls a head; how the hell does a bald head reflect light that much?' I thought as my vision cleared.
"Get this to Chandler Avenue in twenty minutes, one more complaint about a late delivery, and you're fired, kid; no more chances." He said as he stared at me with those black eyes that always seemed to unsettle me.
'No wonder Maria doesn't want anything to do with you anymore,' I thought, because how do you explain looking at a sixteen-year-old like you wanted to tear him apart limb to limb for daydreaming? Okay, maybe that probably was my fault.
"Twenty minutes? Yeah, tell that to the traffic," I said as I rolled my eyes and grabbed the four stacked boxes of pizza that Tony had slid across the counter.
"I'm serious, kid, one more complaint and you're done." He said as he continued to stare.
'Okay, fine, you don't have to be such a stick-up,' I thought with a little bit of amusement as I grabbed the stack and headed towards the door.
"And use the bloody helmet. If you get in an accident and get into a fucking hospital, I don't want to explain to the cops why a sixteen-year-old is using my shop's scooter to deliver fucking pizza, you got it?!"
"Yeah yeah, you don't want to go to prison for child labor offences, Tony got it. You don't have to repeat that every time I'm on shift." I said as I pulled open the glass door, leaving the air-conditioned air of the shop for the slightly chill evening air of the city.
I shivered a bit under the red shop uniform shirt as I turned into an alley at the side of the shop to head into the back where the scooter was parked.
'He should probably tone it down on the shouting, if he doesn't want to get a heart attack or something,' my thoughts turned back to Tony with all the fat he packed in his stomach as I loaded up the delivery in the box at the back of the scooter.
I swung my legs across the seat of the vehicle with the precision of someone who'd been doing this for three months as I put on the helmet, adjusted the side mirrors, and started up the scooter.
Chandler Avenue; it would take me fifteen minutes to get there if traffic was being kind.
I really didn't want to do a bit of off-road riding. I almost hit a cat the other day, I thought as I started up the scooter and rode back up to the front of the shop and joined the busy streets of Caviar.
The sounds of the city hit me as I veered from the street where Tony's shop stood to the boulevard. Horns blaring, street lights coming on as the sun was starting to go down, conversations flittering from the high-rise apartments, and the occasional helicopter passing by.
Yup, just another day in Caviar City. The capital of the world, as its residents called it.
I rode the scooter towards Chandler Avenue for probably a total of eight minutes before the traffic hit. 'I shouldn't have jinxed it,' I thought as all the blurred red came through the helmet from the sheer amount of brake lights ahead of me.
'Tony might seriously butcher me this time; I ain't risking it,' as I veered towards an alley on the right and sped a bit to beat the remaining twelve minutes on the clock.
Going thirty miles an hour in a narrow alley might have been difficult for most people, but I didn't have that problem; I'd been doing this for three months, and after falling over a bunch of times in the beginning, I'd gotten the hang of it.
I swayed left to avoid a dumpster at the side of an apartment. Before swaying right a few milliseconds later to avoid a cat that came out of nowhere.
"Always with the fucking cats," I muttered as I sped on.
I was in the zone, getting out of the alley and cutting across the street, nearly avoiding a black sedan ready to move at a stoplight before heading into another alley.
At this rate, I might even make it with some time to spare, I thought, smiling through the helmet.
Maybe the universe still had some good karma to throw my way.