Lord-Campione
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Chapter 03: Darkness Descends
🕑 Added 2024-11-21 00:20:19 +0000 UTCThe night dragged on. Adrian couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so small. His mom sat beside him on the couch, stroking his hair as she whispered, “It’s okay, baby. We’re safe. We’re safe.”
But Adrian wasn’t sure he believed her. The screams outside didn’t stop. The news kept showing the same awful images: people being carried off, buildings crumbling, heroes fighting but looking overwhelmed. Adrian clung to his mom, trying to block it all out.
Then the ceiling broke.
It happened so fast. One second, the room was quiet except for the TV. The next, something crashed through the roof, sending debris flying. Adrian screamed, scrambling back as a parademon landed in the middle of the room. Its glowing red eyes locked onto them.
“Brenda, get him out of here!” Jerome shouted, raising the gun. He fired—BANG. BANG. BANG. The shots echoed in Adrian’s ears, making him flinch, but the parademon didn’t even flinch. It snarled, lunging at Jerome.
“Daddy!” Adrian screamed, but his mom grabbed him, pulling him toward the hallway.
He didn’t see everything. He didn’t want to. But he saw enough—his dad swinging the gun like a bat, the parademon grabbing him, the way Jerome’s body crumpled under its claws.
“NO!” Adrian screamed, kicking and struggling as his mom dragged him into the bedroom. She slammed the door shut, locking it behind her.
“Adrian, listen to me,” she said, her voice shaking. She knelt in front of him, gripping his shoulders. “You have to hide. Under the bed. Now.”
“But—“
“Now!” she snapped, tears streaming down her face.
Adrian crawled under the bed, clutching his bear so tight it hurt. He watched as his mom opened the window, her face set like she had made up her mind about something.
The door burst open, and the parademon screeched, its jagged teeth glinting in the dim light. Brenda didn’t hesitate. She jumped.
Adrian clamped his hands over his mouth, biting down on his bear to keep from screaming. He heard the thud outside, followed by the sound of wings. The parademon was gone.
But so was his mom.
Adrian curled into himself, shaking as the screams outside grew louder. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to forget. But he couldn’t. He never forgot. That was his power. And now, it felt like a curse.
The screams faded into nothing, and Adrian’s mind went white.
Adrian didn’t cry anymore.
He thought he was supposed to—he’d cried so much last night his eyes felt like they’d run out of water. His cheeks were dry now, crusted with the salt of old tears. He sat on the cold floor of a drafty military tent, knees pulled up to his chest, his bear clutched tight in his arms. The bear smelled like his mom’s perfume. He buried his face into it, but it didn’t help.
Nothing felt right.
People moved around him—dozens of them, all stuffed into the camp like sardines in a can. Some were crying, some whispering, others just sitting there, staring into nothing. The big tent smelled like sweat and dirty clothes, and there was this faint, awful smell of blood. It made his stomach hurt.
“Hey, kid, you want a granola bar?” someone asked. Adrian looked up. It was the lady who had been sitting near him earlier. She looked old—maybe as old as his grandma had been, with gray streaks in her hair and wrinkles carved deep into her face. Her name was Mrs. Hightower. He remembered because her voice was scratchy like she smoked too much, and she kept saying her name like she didn’t want to be forgotten.
“I don’t want it,” Adrian mumbled, curling tighter around his bear. His stomach growled, but he didn’t care.
Mrs. Hightower sighed, sinking down beside him with a grunt. “Suit yourself, but you gotta eat something, boy. Ain’t no use starving yourself.”
He didn’t answer. She didn’t say anything else either, just sat there with her hands folded in her lap, staring out at the tent full of people. Adrian liked her because she didn’t talk too much. A lot of people were talking too much today.
Across the tent, two men were arguing. Adrian could hear them even though he didn’t want to.
“They should’ve done something sooner!” one man hissed. He was tall and thin, with a face like a hawk. His voice shook like he was trying not to yell. “They’ve got Superman, don’t they? Why didn’t he stop it before it got this bad?”
“You don’t know how this stuff works,” the other man snapped back, shorter and stocky with a thick mustache. “Darkseid wasn’t just some guy. He’s a god—or close to it. The heroes did everything they could.”
“Tell that to my wife,” the first man spat. “She’s gone. My kids are gone. Don’t tell me they did ‘everything they could.’”
Adrian buried his face in his bear again. He hated when people talked about the people they’d lost. It made his chest hurt, and his throat feel all tight, and it made his dad’s voice come back in his head, saying, “Brenda, get him out of here!” He didn’t want to hear that voice anymore. It hurt too much.
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Later, the soldiers wheeled a big TV into the center of the tent, plugging it into a generator. Adrian heard one of them say, “The President’s about to speak. We’ll have a message of hope soon.”
Hope? Adrian thought bitterly. What good was hope? Hope didn’t stop his dad from dying. Hope didn’t make his mom come back.
People shuffled closer to the TV, murmuring to each other. Adrian stayed where he was, pressed against the tent wall, but he could still see the screen.
On it, the President stood behind a podium, looking old and tired, with gray hair slicked back and glasses perched on his nose. His suit was clean and sharp, like he hadn’t been anywhere near the chaos. He didn’t look like someone who’d lost anything. Adrian hated him a little for that.
The President cleared his throat, leaning into the microphone. His voice was loud, filling the tent.
“My fellow citizens,” he began. “Last night, we faced a nightmare unlike anything the world has ever seen. An invasion. A global assault by forces we could hardly comprehend. And in that darkest hour, as our cities burned and our families were torn apart, we looked to the sky for an answer. We found it in the bravery of the men and women who fought back. The heroes.”
Adrian hugged his bear tighter.
“They didn’t just fight for Gotham, or Metropolis, or Central City. They fought for all of us. They stood together, a united front against an enemy that wanted to destroy us. And they prevailed.” The President’s voice swelled, growing stronger. “Because of them, the Earth still stands. Because of them, humanity survives.”
Someone in the tent clapped. Adrian didn’t know who. He didn’t look up.
“I know many of you have lost loved ones,” the President continued. “And I cannot begin to imagine the depth of your pain. But I also know that today, in the wake of this tragedy, we must look forward. We must rebuild. And we must ask ourselves what kind of world we want to live in. In this modern age of technology and progress, is it enough to rely on the systems we’ve built? Or do we need something more? A new symbol of unity and protection. A new hope.”
Adrian’s jaw tightened. His fingers dug into the bear’s soft fur. He wanted to stop listening, but the words hooked into him, pulling him closer.
“That is why, today, I am proud to introduce something new. A force for justice. A league of heroes. Superman, Wonder Woman, Batman, The Flash, Green Lantern, Aquaman, and others who will step forward to stand as guardians of peace. Together, they will be known as…the Justice League.”
The tent erupted into noise. Some people cheered, clapping and shouting. Others stayed quiet, their faces set and grim. Adrian sat frozen, staring at the screen.
The President kept talking, but Adrian wasn’t listening anymore. His mind was stuck on the images flashing across the screen now: Superman in his bright red cape, Wonder Woman holding her sword high, Batman standing in the shadows. People were calling them heroes. But heroes didn’t let his mom jump out of a window. Heroes didn’t let his dad get ripped apart by a monster.
Heroes didn’t save the day. They just survived.
[ Mrs. Hightower ]
