Prophet of Doom

I anxiously prowl the length of the meeting room while racking my brain for a way to alter my cataclysmic future. Images of last night’s dream swirl around me viciously, shaping a future so dark I simply can’t think. The worn carpet hides no more answers than my desperate march but I can’t force myself to slow so I continue to pace. 

It’s becoming no less than torture waiting for Cuda and the president to arrive. Unlike most times, this vision isn’t one I can handle alone. I can see the government crumbling like a rockslide and Cuda, our best hero, will be the pebble that launches us to our doom. Shivers rake through my body at the thought. It’s been over five hours since I sent out for the hero and president, yet they haven’t bothered to show their faces. In all my years working here I’ve never asked them to rush like I did today. I emphasized the dire circumstances with perfect clarity. They should be bolting to this room to hear my premonition. However, as five hours nears six the president lazily goes through his day telling his secretary to ignore my message and Cuda does another unnecessary patrol to be flattered by citizens. 

I lament how my status as a valued seer has melted into nothing more than a passionate worrywart. I have done everything to earn their trust and my warnings have been nothing but true, yet here I am, ignored when it matters most. 

In a fit of frustration I kick a lone plastic chair with enough force to send it into the opposite wall. I ignore the ache of pain it sets into my foot and open the door on the far side of the room. The scene that greets me is no different than I left it five hours ago. Heroes and sidekicks mull over their tasks for the day while interns weave through them holding cases of coffee. I don’t waste time trying to keep the peace. All eyes snap to me as the door slams in my wake. With a furrow in my brow and a deep set frown I speed towards the elevator. Most people step out of my way, only a few brave heroes stand their ground. I pay them no mind as I stride to the elevator and press the button for the ground floor. There are two heroes who are courageous enough to join me as I sulk in the corner. 

“What's your problem Nostra?” The elder asks tauntingly while fixing their gold uniform. 

“Yeah, you look like someone spit in your coffee!” The younger hero adds helpfully. 

I glare at them and snap “I’m being ignored again! Even on the eve of an apocalypse no one cares for my insight.” 

“Calm down there man,” The golden hero reprimands. 

“Now I see why they call you the Prophet of Doom!” The other laughed, “I thought my friends were just messing with me.” 

“I’ve never been wrong!” I say furiously, throwing my hands in the air. The hero just laughed again and the older one let out a huff of amusement. I let my hands fall to my sides and curl them into fists. The elevator happily chimes and slides the door open. I walk briskly out of the room with faint chuckles trailing after me. I tune it all out as I slam open the door to the crowded street. A few people jump at my aggression but no one in this crowded city pays me any mind so I let my feet take me to a place I’ve only seen in a vision. I visualize a crowded ballroom filled with wealthy patrons making small talk with heroes. A glamorous chandelier hangs from the ceiling and in the reflection of a diamond stands a man dressed in all black. In his hand is a weapon made to take out the number one hero and that’s exactly what it will do unless I interfere. 

The party isn’t set to start until nine so I’ve got four hours to figure out a plan. I try to imagine a scenario where this goes well but in my haste I gain nothing of importance. I’ll be the first to admit I’m a nervous wreck, but this is a new low. 

I need to stick to the things I know. I have an invitation to this party so getting in won’t be an issue. I only have the invertible cloak of my hero uniform which is currently on the blank brown side. It would be a better idea to go into this incognito anyway. I’ll go in before the party even starts to get a layout and unveil any flaws in the system. With enough determination and possibly desperation I can stop the initial attack making room for Cuda to do what he knows best. 

Mind racing, I make it to the banquet hall 10 minutes quicker than normal. I shove my hero badge in the faces of the guards as I go inside, never stopping for more than a few seconds. By the time I enter the ballroom the setup for the party is mostly complete. Only a few workers mill about fixing the small imperfections in the decorations. One of them is sweeping the floor until it’s clean enough I can see my anxious face reflected back at me. I finally slowed to a stop for the first time today in the corner of the room. I can practically see the man from the vision lounging apart from the crowd. His hands fidget with the cuff of his sleeve but he otherwise radiates confidence. He politely declines a dance with a woman in red and turns to watch Cuda walk into the room. His hands immediately leave his cuff and reach toward his pocket. 

I physically shake the image from my head and delve deeper into the premonition. He’s one of the first guests to appear but he slides in from a side entrance meant for staff. I snap back to reality and find the unassuming door. Without a moment's hesitation I practically ran to it. With shaking hands I reach from the handle and violently fling it open. It leads to a long hallway with multiple doors lining the walls. I stride down it and abruptly stop when I hear faint whispers from the janitorial room. 

“The timing has to be perfect,” a female voice says in a hushed tone. 

“It will be, I’ve been waiting for this moment since we were kids.” A man replies.

 I force myself to be so quiet I barely breathe and slowly take off my coat and flip it inside out to reveal my hero identity. The cloak is a dark blue with stars that physically shine and swirl in the harsh overhead lights. I’m missing the majority of my uniform but anyone will recognize me with the cloak alone. I want these people to know who I am and assume I know the ins and outs of their little plan. The intimidation factor of an all knowing hero usually makes people more likely to give in quicker. I want this whole ordeal to be over soon as possible so I can give a piece of my mind to Cuda when he gets here. 

Gently I place my hand on the door handle and lean in to hear their final whispers before I bash in. 

“Can you believe we finally are doing this? This is the start of a new world.” The male muses. 

“A world where my family can live in peace.” The woman adds in a wistful tone. I almost laughed at the absurdity of her words. I know the disaster that will result if their plan comes into fruition, yet these two think it will give them a better future. 

Sucking in a final apprehensive gulp of air I slam my shoulder into the door. The first thing I see is the woman. She’s small, and her brown ponytail bobs when she jumps back. 

“You’re all under arrest!” I loudly state. I turn to where I assume the man is only to have my breath forcefully thrust from my lungs. The man from my vision holds me against the wall wrinkling his dress shirt. He isn’t very large so it doesn’t take me long to push him back. I let muscle memory kick in to fight the man but I stumble when I realize we’re not alone. Four more people, who were quietly hidden, bolted at me from the shadows. The split second I had the upper hand is gone and within seconds I’m on the floor with my hands restrained with someone's belt. I roughly curse after being kicked down but after looking up I realize my fight is a lost cause. A pang of fear clutches my heart and my throat closes up. The others notice this too and the tension in their shoulders ease. 

“Oh my god,” the man sighs, running a hand through his short hair. 

“Nostra,” the woman greets a hint of awe in her voice. She looks down at me with big eyes. The other people stay close but let the two handle the situation. A heavy silence fills the room as the man and woman seem to talk telepathically. If I didn’t know better I’d assume it was their power but the way the man’s hand shimmers sliver and the amplifier on the woman’s hip tells me otherwise. 

Any composure I once had cracked as the man solemnly nods glancing in my direction. “You need,” my voice cracks impressively. “You need to stop this. It doesn’t end well.” 

The woman raises her eyebrows but seems to take my warning seriously. “Why do you think that?” She questions. I know this woman knows my power but I entertain her because there isn’t much else I can do. 

“I had a vision last night of that man,” I paused to nod the man’s way, “he’s going to attack Cuda and succeed.” The woman’s expression lights up and she turns to look at the man who sucks in a sharp breath. “And, when he does, the heroes will retaliate by attacking this whole team. Once they take care of you they will turn their revenge on the citizens and things will escalate until your plan creates a full blown war.” I rave, my voice edging on manic. The others sense my panic and they hesitate to reply. 

After a moment the man states “I would rather have anarchy than live under the tyranny of the hero system.” A few approving murmurs agree to his words and it truly sets my mind into overdrive. Trying to grapple the whirlwind of thoughts I don’t notice when the woman takes a step forward. I also don’t notice when my breathing picks up filling the tense silence that once coated the room. 

“Are you really this happy with the system as it is?” The woman questions, kneeling in front of me. “My family is barely living with the measly paycheck I get from working daily 12 hour shifts. My friends gave up their homes so they can afford meals that still don’t satisfy their hunger and all the while heroes live in grandeur and encourage violence in our streets.” 

I get pulled back into the moment solely by my lack of understanding. I haven’t been briefed on high living costs or struggling citizens. Last I was told that homeless rates were plummeting. My confusion must show because someone scoffs and the woman leans in closer. 

“You did know that didn’t you?” She asks like speaking like she’s to a frightened child. Words fail me as I attempt to string together a reasonable response. The only thing I can stutter out is a statement that appears more like a question. 

“Heroes help people?” I say in a weak voice. My throat is dry and my mouth stale. It feels like my world has hurried to a stop. As a prophet I should be able to see problems and fix them. I think back to the past where I shared my worries with the higher ups and they always assured me that the government was only bettering the lives of its citizens. I remember visions where people were shivering in back alleys and they sent heroes to help them. Did they lie to me? 

I glance up at the woman before me. Her expression looks kind but behind it I can see anger. The slight pinch of her eyebrows and the almost invisible downward tilt of her lips. Upon closer inspection I can see the callouses on her hands and the thinness of her body. Without the lens of a hero I see nothing but the harsh truth. I can feel the thick thread of trust I wrap around hero corporation start to fray and the edges split from the pressure. 

My limbs go lax and I stop pulling at the belt holding my hands together. In the supposed race to save the world I never slowed down and never dwelled on matters the higher ups dismissed. I start to wonder if this is why they ignored my warnings. The trivial lives of citizens really meant nothing outside of press and popularity. This is the system I’ve lived my entire life giving my undying support to. A feeling I always wrote off as annoyance simmered louder. It bubbled up until it revealed itself to be anger. Rash, loud, dangerous anger. That realization is all it takes to snap that ever thinning thread. 

“Let me out.” I demand. The harshness of my words takes the group by surprise but the woman looks at me with understanding. 

“My name’s Elieen.” She states while untying my binds. Her name etches itself into the forefront of my mind. 

“Nostra,” I reintroduce myself. My name feels off on my tongue. Cuda gave me that name when my power of foresight first arose. “Actually, call me Kai. I won’t have the right to use my hero name after this.” 

The man steps forward when he realizes my intentions. He holds out a hand and says “Call me Jaxson.” I take his outstretched hand and pull myself up. My legs feel unsteady but they thrum with energy. 

“Let me talk to Cuda before you go through with your plan.” I request. 

Jaxon just huffs with a smile. “Sure but I’m not sure how much will be left for me.” A grim smile also crosses my face. “I hope this makes up for my insolence.” 

“We just want a change. If you can do that then you are better than any hero.” Elieen says with a hand on my shoulder. She glances toward the door. I can hear faint sounds of music and idle chatter. I lost track of time since I left the hero complex and the party must have begun without me. With one last grateful nod I leave the group and walk toward the festivities. The hallway is longer than I remembered. I listen to the rage that has dialed up to a wild boil and let the energy power my stride. 

For the first time tonight I open a door carefully, without the rush I always seem to be in. It doesn’t make a sound as I step through and close it behind me. I scan the crowd of shimmering dresses and lavish suits. Nothing caught my attention for longer than a second but I stared longer at the people wearing the uniform of a hero. They all laughed louder and stood taller than the rest because they had the power of deceit to cover their tracks. 

The president puffs out his chest speaking falsehoods to his favorite officials and journalists. Next to him walks in a bright blue suit tailored to imitate the costume of the adored hero everyone is waiting for. Cuda wears the suit with confidence. The fabric is laced with gold and adorned with metal buttons. He doesn’t bother to hide his charming smile behind a glass of champagne as he speaks with fans who run to him like a moth to flame. 

My body is no longer my own. A visceral feeling wraps around my being and pulls me closer to the faux hero. A small commotion arises as the partygoers notice the palpable anger that no doubt follows me. 

It’s not until Cuda looks at me does my anger hit its crescendo and it’s not until then that the hero named Nostra begins an apocalypse.