The Hero

The Hero
In a world just like yours there was a man just like any other. If looked upon on the street there would be no reason to give him a second glance. He was normal. He was benign. Just part of the background of someone else life.
John walked down the open large street sidewalk. The breeze slowing striking his face as he walked ever further towards his destination. The smell of the city stunk his nose. Memories flooding his mind attached to his senses. He'd walked this street so many times, he thought to himself, but this would be his last. Every step he took he could feel the release of the firm grip. That grip was responsibility. He had been plagued by it every day of his life that he could recall. An unrelenting anxiety.
As John walked passed a large building, whose purpose he'd never cared to learn, he saw a reflection of himself. He was tall, but not so tall that he stood out to much in a crowd. He was skinny nor was he considered fat. His hair un-kept, but not so much that he appeared messy. He could feel the tickle of his hair on his neck as it curled at the ends. The sight of his hair above his brow only reminded him of his inability to pay for a haircut. The dark blue unmarked zip up hoody appeared to have been washed one too many times. The fadedness of the hoody went well with his faded blue jeans he thought to himself while slowly walking by the window.
He was nearing the end of the street. His apprehension had all but dissipated. He was finally going to end it. No amount of life reflection had changed Johns mind. It was time. Still unsure as to why he decided to do it in public instead of his own hidden away cave he looked down and closed his eyes one last time.
Footsteps, laughing, crying, the sounds of a busy city ringed in his ear. A warm breeze caressed his exposed skin. Johns hand reached into his pocket, his eyes still closed shut, and his hand gripped it tightly.
Crack. Crack. The noise split the air. John's eyes shot open. The noise had not been of his making. The bank across the street lite up with light as another few shots were fired. Crack. Crack. Slowly John turned and began walking towards the bank, unsure what motivated his current path. The sounds of the city were replaced with screams and the heavy steps of people running. Eyes locked on the door leading into the bank he continued his slow march. By the time he reached the door most of the street had cleared out and he could hear the distant wine of sirens.
His fingers wrapped the handle and pulled. Glancing inside the bank he clearly saw two masked figures with guns of kind. He pushed his way through the next set of doors.
"Get on the ground!", the closest one yelled, "I'll kill you get on the ground now!"
John stared at the tall figure with a steadying eye. He saw roughly 10 people in the bank on the floor. Three laid in pools of red and the others whimpering quietly to themselves. He felt no fear as he pulled his hand out of his pocket.
"What do you think you are doing!" the man yelled at John. Crack. Crack. Silence. Crack. Crack. Crack. Crack. Crack. Silence.
Pain filled John's chest, arms and legs.
A news reporter sits in front of his camera man waiting for the count down. Three. Two. One.
"Live here at the City Bank where only hours ago two gunmen entered through here and began shooting. By the time the dust settled six people died and many more injured. At 9PM we will bring you the whole story of this robbery and the unexpected hero.