23: Hero's Call -Robby-

"You know what I like about you guys?" The voice was old and wise.

I opened my eyes and slowly sat up. My arm was still gone, the only thing left was a tiny stump dripping blood. There was no pain, instead I felt calm and comfortable.

"Oh God."

"Don't panic."

"But my arm. My fucking arm is gone!"

I heard him laugh lightly and glanced over. He was an old man that had a look in his eyes that was very similar to Patrick, except older. He smiled and it made me feel like I'd been complimented by a parent.

"I like people like you and your friends, because you're willing to put yourself at great risk to save others. It's something I hold very highly. Most people I have contact with are so willing to do what I say that they sometimes forget the real reason they're alive. It's . . . disappointing."

My arm became second priority right at that moment. This guy was old, really old.

"Who are you?"

"Gilfred Odephius Doorstop. It's nice to meet you finally, Robby."

"That's not what I meant.", I stared at him.

"See that? Free Will! THAT'S the real reason. Choosing your path for your own instead of having another person choose for you. Being able to decide not to trust the person that's keeping you alive right now."

"Is that a threat? Don't screw with me, we already have another deviously manipulative prick. Having another would just really piss me off."

This time he laughed out loud, "Listen, you and your friends are the closest things to Heroes that I've seen in a long time, so I'm gonna give you some help."

He reached down and touched my shoulder. Tendrils of bright light flowed over me and formed an arm over my stump. The light slowly hardened into a clear-gold substance.

"I hope you don't think I'm going to owe you or something."

"I wouldn't ever ask you something like that." I believed him.

"Is that all? My friends are in a lot of trouble down there I'm sure."

"Yes, they are," He leaned close, "but you have a choice to make. Right now your friends are leading that moth to a gas station where they will attempt to blow the creature up and they will succeed. How ever, inside that gas station is a family of survivors who will not survive the blast. You could allow them to do it, allow those people to die, the moth would be dead, and you could find that delightful little girl that your boss is looking for. Or you could stop them from blowing the place, the moth would not die just yet, the family would live, and your friends would still be in danger."

I stared at the old man's face. It was serious, almost scary serious.

"How am I supposed to choose that?!"

"If it was easy, than you guys wouldn't be important."

He looked at the sky and then back at me, "I've . . . stayed here too long and given off too big a signal. I have to leave. You have only a few seconds to find a way to stop that moth from exploding."

"But I didn't even choose yet."

He laughed and for some reason it made me feel good inside, "Didn't you hear me? You guys are heroes. There's really only one option for you." He slowly faded, "Hurry up."

"FUCK!", I grabbed the edge of the roof and jumped off on to the fire escape.

He was right. There was only one choice.

I had to stop the moth from blowing up.