Hero Pt. 1

It was a warm evening, so Ed sat on the patio of his favourite café to sip his coffee. The town was quiet, as usual, and life was peaceful. Two old heroes bickered over a game of chess across the walkway, but their rusty voices were carried away from Ed by a soft breeze. He let out a happy sigh.

Francine walked onto the patio carrying an empty tray. She owned and ran the café – the Dot – and Ed lover her for it.

That wasn’t all he loved her for, mind you. He loved the curve of her nose, her wit, the way her hips swayed while she bustled around her café. And he especially loved that she could be fully aware of his feelings for her but never put him on the spot about them.

He was forty-one, chubby and balding, with a plain personality (in his own opinion) and dulling eyes. If he had truly wanted to hold Fran in his arms, kiss her lips, lie naked next to her, he would have asked to long ago. More than anything, Ed liked Francine’s friendship, their casual conversations, the fact that they would never fight over what colour to paint their living room. What was wrong with wanting her friendship anyway?

"You gonna bang her or what?”

The voice was just dripping with suave. It could only be Bolton.

Ed turned with eyes a-squint to look at the young man. Sure enough, Bolton Win was suddenly sitting across from him at his little table. He was a trained hero, and was silent as a cat.

“You’re right, Bolt: the weather is lovely.”

“No time for small talk, old man. A hero’s gotta do what a hero’s gotta do.” Bolton put his fingers through his sleek blonde hair. And as he did so his muscles rippled. And his blue eyes shone in the light of the setting sun. And it wasn’t because he was so damn gorgeous that Ed wanted to punch him. It was because he knew it.

"Retired. Hero.” Ed refused to end his squint.

"Can you really retire from being a hero, old man?"

Ed gritted his teeth. "Don’t call me…" He was tired of demanding not to be called ‘old man’. "Well, whatever you want to call it, I don’t save people anymore. I only did it once anyway. And it was an accident." Why was he explaining himself to this twerp? And why was he explaining himself for saving a whole planet? “Damn it Bolton, what do you want? You’re ruining a good evening here. God, you’re so…"

"Handsome?"

"I was going to say modest..."

"What evening am I ruining, exactly?" Bolton took a sip of Ed’s drink. "Your coffee’s cold. Anyway." Bolton moved forward, to be face-to-face with Ed. "Are you having a jolly old time milking your glory days? Sitting all alone watching a young lady while she’s not looking? Was that the evening I ruined?

Ed gave him a reproachful look. "She was totally looking." He silently cursed himself and his dumb response. Bolton gave him a sideways glance and a sly smile. "What you ruined was a nice warm evening with a nice warm cup of coffee."

"Are you sure I didn’t just ruin your view?" Bolton had sat right between Ed and Francine.

The old hero rolled his eyes. "Yeah. You’re right, you snot-nose little cock block. I was checking out my good friend’s ass, and now I’m looking at your mug and it’s killing the mood. Happy? Will you leave now that I’ve admitted my perversions to you?"

"It’s just, why not, you know … hit that? You obviously want to."

"Bolton, I’m not. I’m just not going to have this conversation with you…"

Bolton threw his hands in the air. "Fine, old man. I just wanted to give her a go, but I thought, since you actually care about her … plus you’re not exactly nice to look at. I could get pretty much any woman I wanted. You kinda have to be friends with someone first."

"Bolton!"

"What? The truth can be harsh."

"Are you actually telling me you want to fuck my best friend?"

Bolton stood and lowered sunglasses from his forehead to his eyes. "I was just being a bro."

"Oh god! I accidentally pictured it!"

Bolton gave his signature lopsided grin. "You’re welcome."

"I can’t even close my eyes! The image is still there!"

Bolton began to walk away. "If you’re just gonna be a pussy forever, I’ll have to go for it, old man."

Ed felt his face go aflame. ‘DON’T CALL ME OLD MAN!’ He tried to say other things, but all that really came out was spittle. Bolton had already left anyway.

Francine, cleaning a table across the patio, gave Bolton one glance and Ed another. She strode over to her friend and sat across from him, where Bolton had just been. "Ed, please don’t let that little fucker give you a stroke. You’d be leaving me to deal with him all alone. I know you’re a better friend than that."

He chuckled. Ed would swear that Francine could make a cloudy day sunny. She gave him a look. He never quite knew what it meant, but it made him feel warm inside. "How’s the coffee, hero?"

"The coffee’s always excellent, Fran. Why do you think I come here?" He shook his head at her, but he was smiling.

"To keep me from going nuts, listening to all these once-great heroes tell me why they’re amazing?" She giggled. "Or to check me out?"

It was a joke, Ed knew. She made these jokes all the time, to most people. And after all, what was a multi-sexed relationship if not mostly flirting? But after the conversation he had just had with Bolton…

"Ed? You okay?"

"Peachy, Fran. Just tired. The old war wound’s acting up anyway. I’m gonna go home." He stood, trying to make it look like a difficult task.

Francine was obviously concerned, and he could not blame her. It was not uncommon for Ed to spend three quarters of the night at her café. He would do it six, sometimes seven times a week. And yet the sun had not quite set yet, and he was going home. He felt bad, especially when Francine tried to look as understanding as possible. He pretended to believe it and left for home.



Francine called it the town of old saviours. There was only one small landmass on the planet Ed now lived on – and had for 20-odd years. It was a town inhabited by those who had once been heroes. It wasn’t necessarily that they couldn’t be anymore. But some people stumbled upon their heroic destinies, and were not able to deal with the fame, fortune and fandom. Did they mean to be heroes? No. Did that mean they did not deserve a retreat: a nice, peaceful retirement? Of course not.

So people like Ed got to live in the solitary seaside town, if they so desired.

It could be windy, thanks to the water, but the houses were sturdy and close together to combat it. Otherwise the town was lovely, with cobblestone walkways, soft-sanded beaches and flowery store windows.

Ed lived a short walk from the Dot Café, with a view of the sea to the east, two cats, and a roommate.

When he arrived at the charming brick house, he gave the door three sharp, staccato knocks. There were footsteps, then a voice.

"Who goes there?" asked a nasal voice.

Ed sighed. "Rook, it’s me."

"Mimi? I told you not to come here."

"No, you absolute moron. It’s Ed! Your roommate! Who lives with you!"

"Ed … who?"

Ed pounded his fist on the door. "Rook, if you don’t let me mother-fucking in, I’ll bash the door right down. I will. I’ll fucking do it. Why do you do this every single day?"

"If you were truly my roommate, sir, you would have a key to get in."

Ed ground his teeth. "I do have a key, Rook. You chained the door. I can’t get in anyway. Or have you forgotten just how bat-shit-crazy paranoid you are?"

"I have only barred the front door, sir. If you truly are Mr. Ed, you can get in through the back."

This was exactly what Ed did, with much cursing and swearing.

When Ed got in, he gave his roommate a hard slap to the back of the head. He then proceeded to make himself a sandwich.

Rook stalked into the kitchen the way he always did – silent and cat-like. Though he was tall, he was light enough not to make a noise. Rook was once an intelligence agent from a distant planet called earth. He had been tortured and drugged, and was now incredibly paranoid.

"What’s in the kettle?" Rook demanded.

"Just water, man. Always just water."

"Did you check before you started boiling it?" Rook’s voice rose to a squeak.

Ed sighed. Then he smiled as an idea occurred to him. He turned to look at Rook as if to say something. Instead his jaw dropped. "Whoa. Rook. What’s up with your eyes, pal?"

Rook stared at Ed, his back hunched and his eyes wide behind thick, round glasses.

"Seriously." Ed stepped towards Rook, looking suspicious. "Your eyes are like, blue. Really, really blue..."

Rook looked like a frightened rat. "They’ve always been blue."

"Always? Or since you’ve come here?"

"What do you mean?" Rook’s words came out in a cluster.

"Well, there are some drugs that only affect the body once they enter certain atmospheres." He looked as worried as he could. "Rook … How long have you lived on this planet?"

"Five years."

"Yep. That’s just about the time it takes for the drugs to start taking their toll."

By now Rook’s body shook hard. He looked at Ed and whispered, "What do I do?"

"From what I’ve heard, you sleep." Ed put a hand on Rook’s shoulder. "Sleep as long as you can. That’s all you really can do. Sleep … and pray."

Rook muttered his thanks and left the room, still trembling. Just before he disappeared around the corner, he turned to Ed. "Don’t let anyone in. There are these guys … Never mind. It’s classified."

Ed felt no need to let anyone he did not know personally into the house at such an hour anyway.



He had eaten almost all his sandwich when there was a knock at the door. Ed ignored it, because he simply did not care. Normal people did not knock on the door at night, and he really didn’t feel like putting up with more than one crazy person in a single day.

He took the last bite of his sandwich and another knock came. This one came sharp and angry.

Ed ignored it. Why would he want to deal with an angry person right before bed?

And then a shout came from outside. "If you don’t open this door, Ed, you lose a lot of privileges. We’ve got your girlfriend, and we can make it hell to get her back."

Ed stopped mid-chew. The angry, crazy man at the door had used his name. That was odd.

And yet Ed certainly had no girlfriend. And he could not think of any reason that he should be called upon by the type of people that steal girlfriends. He chewed his last bite and tried to understand the situation.

This time the door was pounded upon. "Open up, Edward."

Another voice said, "Give us what we want, Eddie."

The first voice said, "That’s it. Tomorrow night, your girlfriend dies. If you don’t give us the goods, even more people you love will die."

Ed smiled as he realised what a bluff they had just tried to pull. He didn’t have a girlfriend, and he didn’t have “more people he loved”. These angry, crazy men could not kill those who did not exist.

He heard the men walk away. The second voice could be heard saying, "Hey, maybe we’ll make her serve us tea before we kill her … in the nude!" They both laughed.

This gave Ed a start. They were keeping up the charade too well. He leapt up and to the door, yelling, "I think you’ve got the wrong Ed! I don’t have a girlfriend for you to steal! You can see: I’m fat and balding. Guys like me don’t have girlfriends! They have sexually unfulfilled wives!" He placed his hand on the doorknob but paused, remembering what Rook had said about “these guys” coming to the door.

He peeked through the keyhole, but the men had disappeared into the night. The exchange had left him with a pit in his stomach. Apparently someone’s girlfriend was going to die tomorrow, naked, because those two men had spoken to the wrong person. If nothing else Rook would know about it, but when Ed tried to question him, he discovered his roommate had taken sleeping pills, and there would be no way to wake him until tomorrow afternoon.

At a loss, Ed decided it was best to try and sleep off the day. But in bed he tossed and turned to thoughts of Francine. Partially because he felt bad for the way he had left her. But what really made it hard to sleep were the thoughts of what it would be like if men who knocked on doors at night took her away. He felt like he would literally die if anything bad ever happened to her. Even if he didn’t want to bang her, and she wasn’t his girlfriend. He adored her, and she cared for Ed enough that most people assumed they were seeing each other anyway. Rook constantly called her Ed’s girlfriend, to his mild embarrassment. He never listened to a damned thing Ed told him, so he’d never remember that Ed had said a thousand times that Fran was merely a friend.

And maybe Rook told these crazy men that she was Ed's girlfriend, and Francine was the girlfriend they spoke about, serving them tea in the nude.

The thought came at him fast and hard, and it was terrible enough to get him out of bed and dressed. He wasn't sure exactly what he would do, though. He had no idea where these men had gone, who they were…

Here he was a retired hero, and he had no clue how to rescue a damsel in distress. He had never been a real hero in the first place. He hadn’t gone out of his way to end that war. It had just been a lucky shot.

As Ed sat in the kitchen to collect his thoughts, he realised with horror what he would have to do.