Derick's heroics spread like wildfire. Every TV station, every social media handle—the news was golden.
[Narrator]:
"Ah, Golden Boy. I beat my chest and salute him. He's a hero through and through. 🔥🔥"
The Hero Association was in the shade. The fact they couldn't act during the incident left pundits and critics tearing into them. The hero building hummed with murmurs, chatter, and panic.
The top floor was calm but laced with worry—worry that the higher-ups would hand them queries. The TV volume was raised. The voice of the broadcaster cried out:
"Derick Andrew—more like Savior Andrew—the man who risked his life for the safety of others. When he was asked how he managed to do it, he answered with this."
A video played, showing Derick with a mic close to his mouth, held by a female reporter.
Derick said, "I was lucky. Professionals would have come out of it unscathed, but here I am with injuries."
The video stopped and the live broadcast continued.
"Just a humble guy. We need people like him around," the broadcaster said. He went further:
"The question everyone's asking is: what was the Hero Association doing when this happened?"
The TV was switched off immediately.
The individuals in the room were Commander Layla, Timothy, and Raymond.
"Damn it!" Raymond shouted.
"Calm down, tiger. It's annoying, but we can't blame them for thinking this way. We failed to do our job. But props to this lucky lad—he stood for the city in our stead," Timothy retorted.
Raymond shot back, "Wait, don't tell me you also believe that he was lucky?"
Layla, who had silently watched the two argue, finally spoke.
"Only those with mere eyes will see this and call it luck. Even the guy himself knows luck won't take a man this far."
They fell quiet after that. An awkward silence filled the room—three grown-ups lacking the ability to progress a conversation. Who could blame them? Not everyone's childhood granted them the skill of socialization.
[Narrator]:
"It's not bad to ask how your days have been, you know. 😒😒"
The silence was soon cut off by the one with a bit of humor, a little social exposure.
Raymond cleared his throat. "Commander, the guy we told you about should've been here, but some personal reasons kept him away."
"Oh… two weeks now, and I still haven't met the young man who wholeheartedly wants to be a hero. What a shame," Layla said.
"You're not the cause of that, Layla," Timothy replied, standing up to leave. "Don't be too happy about meeting him, though. His attitude may not be to your taste."
"Where are you going?" Raymond called out.
"I wanna look into the madman who released the animals," Timothy answered.
He tapped the elevator button. The doors slid open. He stepped inside, relaxed his back against the wall, and crossed his arms.
"How do you plan on doing that?" Raymond shouted.
Timothy gave no words, only raised his hand, showing five fingers. The elevator doors closed.
Raymond frowned. The gesture wasn't clear.
Layla shook her head, a smile carved on her face. "I won't blame you for not getting it. Let me give a hint: it means five years."
Still looking confused, Raymond muttered the words softly: "Five years… five years… five ye—"
Like a light switch, realization hit him. He grinned. "He makes me look dumb. He just wanted to flex the amount of years he's been crusading, right?"
The smile still lingered on Layla's face. She nodded. Raymond stood speechless. He wanted to ask how she understood it, but held back. He felt as though he'd been fooled.
****
The next day, the morning sun rose. The cock crowed, but even all this couldn't get Derick up from his bed. As if he were a newborn, he squinted his eyes, mumbling words not even he could hear. The ray of light shone bright on him. He eventually got up, but sat on the bed, looking around as though unsure of where he was. The ticking sound of his wall clock caught his attention. He looked at it—the time was a quarter to eight.
He yawned, his voice cracked.
"It's just to eight, there's still time for more sleeping."
He lay back on the bed. His mind was like a wardrobe with a collection of thoughts; he was trying to remember what he wanted to do. Similar to picking clothes from the wardrobe, the thought he was searching for finally clicked.
He yawned out the word, Benson.
"Shit. Benson should be getting discharged today—and it's this morning. Thank God I didn't go for a round two."
He jumped out of his bed and headed straight for the bathroom. It was a fast morning bath with barely the use of soap. It was simply the life of a man: no fancy bathing. But with all this, his dark skin still glowed beneath the sunlight.
****
Derick got to his destination. The hospital had taken in patients from the zoo attack. You could see the smiles on the nurses' faces—they hit a jackpot on the patients.
Derick walked in and asked where he could find old man Benson's ward. He was directed to the place. When he entered, he saw the little family Benson had: the old man lay on the bed with his wife and their little granddaughter. They were all smiles when they saw Derick.
The girl ran to him, chubby cheeks and bright eyes.
"Thank you for helping Grandpa," she said to Derick, then ran back to her grandmother.
The old woman bowed her head in greeting and thanks for Derick's kindness toward her husband.
"You did more than just save my husband—we learned it was you who paid the hospital bills. Thank you so much."
Derick didn't know what to say. His shyness, the same that kept him from getting a girlfriend, left him unable to properly reply to an old lady. He just muttered in his usual manner,
"It's okay, ma'am."
Benson called to his wife and told her to excuse them. She carried her granddaughter and left the room. Benson tried to get up just to sit and have a talk with Derick. He managed to sit well.
"You didn't have to go this far for me," Benson said.
Derick grabbed a chair and rolled his eyes at the words.
"Please. You've done more than this for me. Six months now, and I'm just trying to give back to the man who helped me throughout my stay in this city—helped me feel comfortable."
The old man sighed, smiled, and chuckled.
"Okay, if that's what you want to do, an old man can't push away things like this." Benson paused, then said, "Do you think he just did it for his so-called agenda of freedom for all creatures?"
Derick frowned.
"Don't bother yourself about that deranged jerk. He's in prison, and we won't have to worry about him till eternity."
Benson wanted to talk more, but the look on Derick's face warned him not to bring up Leonard again. He changed the subject.
"What do you plan to do now?" Benson asked. "The workplace will be temporarily closed until everything is settled."
Derick replied, "I'll just wait till then."
Benson fired back,
"No. Don't come back. You tell me sometimes the work is boring, that you don't feel it to your bones. You could change—it. Feel the fun you want. You have this power. Change is right in front of you. It's in your palm."
"I know what you mean, but I don't think I can be that guy," Derick replied.
"You don't have to be that guy… Just be The Guy," Benson said.
****
Time went by. Derick was ready to leave the hospital. He said his goodbyes to the Bensons. Just as he walked out, he met Jean.
"Hey, been waiting for you," Jean said.
He stuttered, but the words came out.
"Why have you been waiting for me?"
Her brown eyes locked on his. Her womanly charms had caught Derick once again.
"Just a talk with the local hero," she said.
[Narrator]:
Now we're starting. Good and bad—everyone is making their move. The preamble is over. Get your baby oil ready… we're sliding into story.