Afternoons were horridly humid in the woodlands

Karl hated having to chop trees at this time. Early mornings were better in this regard because, at the very least, the lower temperatures in the morning offered him some respite from being burnt to a crisp. But now, with the summer heat reaching its peak in noon, combined with the humidity and the physical exertion needed for cutting down entire trees; it was the perfect recipe for getting drenched. Sometimes - much like today - he opted to go out on these expeditions shirtless, not worrying much about the injuries he could sustain from cutting wood and having several splinters embedded into his skin. Not much could cut into it anyways.

It was a…peaceful job. But he couldn’t deny that it was getting irritating as hell over the last couple of months. The wood he was legally permissible to cut was becoming scarce, making the search take longer than usual. The irritation was further amplified by the heat, and lately, with the chittering of woodland creatures around him. He’d run into way too many grizzly bears for his liking. He didn’t want to fight them, but fate seemed to always find a way to gravitate him towards combat. His old life can never seem to let go, even in retirement.

He took a deep breath and exhaled, momentarily dissipating the irritation boiling in him. No point being a short fuse here.

He had finally found a 40 foot tree before him that he might be able to take home. He made sure that the tree he chose wasn’t affected by insect damage, that there was a perfect cylindrical stem, with minimal taper, and that there weren’t many animals residing on the tree. Finally, he brought his phone out to double check his map app to ensure he was at a spot that his tree cutting permit allowed him to cut trees from, because the last thing he wanted to do was to take down the habitat of an endangered animal or tear down areas clearly marked as protected land. There was a whole complex routine to acquiring timber, though Karl was no stranger to routines. If anything, it provided him a modicum of reprieve from the ethical concerns of cutting trees down. At the very least, he wasn’t partaking in rampant deforestation. Plus, the work he did was necessary. Sometimes trees need to be pruned to maintain a relatively healthy forest environment.

Once he felt that the tree before him was clear for cutting, he grabbed his axe, and steadied his own centre of gravity. If he channelled his power right, he could have this done in one go.

Karl swung his axe to his back and froze, holding his pose for a few fleeting seconds. With his mind focused and muscles tensed, he propelled the axe forward, channelling his strength into the force of the swing.

The axe cut into wood, causing the tree to tilt, but it was a few inches short of completely getting knocked down.

He gritted his teeth.

Karl let out an enraged howl, arching his axe one more time and swinging it with animalistic ferocity. This time, the axe went all the way past the bark and was more than enough to have the tree knock down. However, the axe’s handle split into two from the force of the impact, causing the blade end to fly into the brushes.

He sighed.

Idly yelling “Timber!” to no one in particular, he tossed the broken handle of his axe and began to walk towards the direction the tree was slowly plunging into - situating himself so that the middle of the tree would hurtle directly onto him.

For a brief moment, the creaking and groaning of the plunging tree had evoked faint memories. He shook his head.

As the falling tree settled on his shoulder, his knees briefly buckled under the weight. He quickly regained his balance, wrapping his arm around the trunk and securing the lumber tightly to his body.

And now came the long trek back to his woodland cabin. It might have been easier to drive to his homestead, especially in the heat. A while back, these walks provided him moments of silence and tranquillity. A moment to reflect on himself.

Though, the walks have made him feel… restless, lately. He’d seen the same sights, the same corners, the same wide-eyed campers letting out gasps as they watched a man casually walk by with several pounds of lumber on his shoulder. While it was equal parts funny and refreshing, the novelty wore off, and retirement had brought about a sense of mundanity.

Careful what you wish for huh?

Once the cabin was in his sights, he set his tree down and exhaled, wiping sweat off of his forehead and brushing off the splinters and dust on his shoulder. He’d wake up tomorrow morning to have the tree transported to a mill, he’d get payment for his hard work, and then he would hope that the wood in the tree would be used for something constructive. Far more constructive than his previous occupation, ironically. Maybe the wood might become a rocking chair for a grandmother to sit on and tell stories to her grandchildren by the fire. Maybe it might be moulded into paper for a medical doctor to write ground breaking research on and eventually save lives. Maybe, it might be used to build a house for people affected by major natural disasters like earthquakes…or Endbringers.

He disregarded the thought, shaking his head dismissively.

He gunned straight for his cabin, wasting no time in setting the thermostat to cool at 60 degrees. After taking a shower, putting on some clothes and promptly sinking himself into the comfy crevasses of his modest living room couch, he closed his eyes to relax. Peace.

Just him.

The sounds of the AC wind blowing.

A few of the woodland creatures chittered outside.

Occasionally the roof of his cabin would thud lightly. Probably a bird or a small animal.

His own breathing.

…

That feeling of restlessness returned again.

He sighed.

Perhaps there could be something to watch.

“Alexa, turn the TV on.”

The screen burst to life, illuminating the room with a Spanish telenovela that greeted Karl with a nonsensical plotline about a husband entangled in a web of infidelity with his two wives and a third woman. Karl instinctively reached for his remote on the right, but it wasn’t there. It was resting on a shelf across the room, leaving him to wonder why he’d left it there in the first place. Lulled by a sense of indolence, he decided against walking over and instead pointed his hand towards the remote. A shimmering blue hand construct materialised, extending from his fingertips and gliding leisurely towards the shelf. The construct gently patted the surface until it detected the familiar texture of the remote, then gracefully returned to Karl's hand, remote in tow.

He began idly channel surfing.

…’~Ash-town friends bring us through the ends!~’...’-we’re bringing live updates on the devil fishing contest here in Lexington-Fayette, Kentuc-’...’-se bud: a new fragrance, a new you’...’-catch Belladonna: the super-villain seductress at 6pm EST’...

Karl covered his mouth and yawned.

…’-the rusty spotted-cat, the world’s tiniest feline’...’-the Dodge Charger is a popular American muscle car known for its powerful performance and aggress’...’-after adding two teaspoons of salt, we want to make sure to saute the chicken to a nice brown’...’-revisiting cities that have fallen victim to Endbringer attacks in the past. Many of the areas have all become largely inhabitable, though it hasn’t stopped many from still trying to call their destroyed cities home.’

I know this documentary.

‘Sarah Wellington and her three children- Jacob, 15, Will, 11, and Devin 3- had moved a year ago after dealing with a messy divorce, looking to start their lives anew. Holding a well-paying job and living near a respectable school district, Sarah had hoped her life for her children would be better. That is, until Leviathan struck’

Karl sat up straight, leaning towards the screen.

‘Leviathan had gunned straight for the Cold War era fallout shelter, repurposed to withstand Endbringer attacks. Parahuman teams were too slow to make it to the shelter. Leviathan wreaked havoc, collapsing major sections of it onto those seeking refuge from the attack; including Sarah and her children.’

He closed his eyes and looked away. He knew what came next.

Sarah came to the screen now, a little dishevelled, as if she had gone through several takes for this segment of the interview.

“I was hugging my kids as tightly as I could,” Sarah spoke, her voice dry. “I kept on telling them everything was going to be alright, that Mommy was here for them, that the heroes were going to beat the bad guys.”

She paused, closing her eyes and holding a choke, as she worked hard for the nth time that day to fight those tears back. Part of Karl thought it was horrid that the interviewers were making her recount her story like this. Part of him figured she wanted her story to be heard, and wasn’t going to stop until her children were remembered in some way.

“...right then, a massive wave of water gushed down and scattered us. It caused the whole ceiling to fall”

Her voice quivered, causing Karl to droop his head down.

“They pulled me out first, a-and I had to wait so many agonising hours to hear back for the rest… I-I lost Jacob and Will that day... My babies. God, I wish it was me instead of my sweet loving boys. I-…I-...”

She finally broke, tightly embracing the three year old on her lap, who sensed his mother’s sadness and hugged back, tears streaming down his eyes too as they shared in their sorrow together.

“We found him! We found him!” a familiar voice cried out.

His own.

‘It took the team 12 hours to recover Sarah’s youngest son, Devin, from underneath the rubble. Neptune Striker, seen here pulling at concrete slabs weighing more than 2,000 pounds, had worked 36 hours non-stop prior to reaching the fallout shelter. He is among the 30 other Parahuman teams that have been deployed to assist in the recovery and rescue efforts.’

Karl got a view of himself in that footage. His hair was a jumbled mess, his costume torn, and his eyes were terribly red. He very vividly remembered that day. It felt like it would never end. The countless dead bodies he had to pull out of the rubble, most strung together as family and friends desperately embraced themselves before the impact. It was among his first Endbringer deployments early on in his career. It had stuck to him ever since. No matter how many times he’d go through these rescue and recovery missions, he would never get numbed by the sight of the dead bodies he pulled out from the rubble.

It made it all the more special if he was able to recover someone alive.

The scene shifted, with Neptune Striker’s face now the focus of an interview. He was chatting and chuckling with the reporter as make-up artist teams touched his face up and adjusted the mic for him. He found it hard to believe that this was him.

“Thirty six hours, Mr Striker. Without a wink of sleep and a few stops just for food and water. Even for most parahumans, that is a tall order” the interviewer said, to which Neptune waved his hand dismissively.

“I only did what needed to be done.”

“Even still, several of your higher-ups told you to stand down and let other teams do their part. You and I both know you were reaching your limits back there, and yet you pressed on.”

“I just…I really couldn’t stop myself.”

“Are we talking physically?”

“Mentally, spiritually, you name it Jeffrey. I kept telling my Captain I would sleep better once I had managed to rescue as many people in that shelter as empirically possible.”

The interviewer laughed.

“That is all selfless and good Mr Striker, though one would think you’re just rehashing typical hero PR talk.”

Striker chuckled. “I know, I’ve been told I’m way too corny for a hero type and I should probably head back to the 80s. But, I really do mean it when I say I want to save lives and make a positive difference in the world, no matter how small or inconsequential it ends up being. I helped save a mother from losing all of her children that day… and that drives me. Granted, I do wish I could do a lot more with my powers like an S-class hero could. But, I am content with being enough.”

“I see. That does bring me to my next question. Do you think you can rally people into being that - as you say - difference maker in something like an Endbringer event? Or any bleak situation in the future, really. Do you see yourself encouraging people to ‘be enough’?”

He paused, considering his next words.

“Perhaps, though one day, I hope I might inspire someone to go above and beyond...to be better.”

Karl shut the TV off, letting out an exasperated sigh. It physically hurt him listening to the way his former self sounded so… idealistic, so damn naive. If only he could tell this wide-eyed rookie that he couldn’t save everyone. If only he knew that 13 years in the Protectorate was going to leave him riddled with night terrors and knee-deep in mind numbing medication that left him feeling like a zombie. If he only knew that he had fruitlessly kept on throwing his life away in a harrowing war against a society of broken super-powered people who wanted nothing more than to see the world burn. There was no scope of being better, hell, there wasn’t any reason to be better. Any difference he thought he made, kept on cancelling out with a heinous act of depravity from a fucking 2-bit bastard villain that made him wish he could-...he could-...

He snarled, taking a hold of his table and - with a furious strength - flung across the room as if it were weightless. It crashed into his closet, splintering into several pieces and he roared with an intensity that made his throat raw. In a split second, he was barely a metre away from his closet, fully intent on following through with another destructive blow, only for his fist to freeze when light-blue glimmer on the floor caught his blurry sight.

A piece of fabric: thin, soft, light... his cape.

Strangely, after all these years, this was the only bit of him that remained untorn.

It was tiring. Tiring to be so helplessly desperate. Even in retirement, he couldn’t find solace. The words of his former self rung in his head as he rubbed the fabric of his cape with his fingers. ‘..To be better...’

Maybe it was time to be better.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6hKPWrX85U8&ab_channel=OminousVoice

Though capes tend to flap horribly in the wind, Neptune’s was designed in a way to be less intrusive than one would think for it to be. It might have just been the weather, but strangely, it felt really good to be in that costume again.