Gray Heroics: Book 1

WHERE YOU COME FROM: Chapter 1

"Today Captain Righteous, head of the American Deeds Association, has yet again saved countless lives from certain death! Just moments prior to his arrival, a handful of armed aggressors in masks opened fire on pedestrians promptly after exclaiming how they were no longer going to accept, and I quote, being cogs in the mundane system of society. The Democratic hero showed up just before fatal harm and severe damage could be done; swooping in like lightning and subduing the unhinged group within mere seconds. We'll now head on over to our on-the-scene reporter, Jesse Long. Jesse." The channel 666 News Anchorwoman transfers focus to the mentioned individual after providing the raw details of the story of the day. However, by this point a particular young man's skepticism accumulates to a point where he can't bring himself to entertain another second of what sounds so surreal to his ears. With the push of a few buttons he changes the channel on his grandmother's TV, flickering over to the NetworkCartoon program. His questioning expression eases into his usual stoic stare as a genuine feeling of content settles in.

Despite going on sixteen, this young man's interest leans toward the simpler things in life. Cartoons happen to be one of those things. He's at the height of 5'10 with skin of a smooth, rich coffee-caramel color. A lean physique with a head of shoulder-length straight hair, brushed over and styled to where his left eye is almost entirely covered by his raven bangs. His eyeballs themselves are an unnatural white, and their lack of pupils gives them a resemblance to twin spotless plates laying in oceans of white - or twin full moons, as some would say. His attire consists of a simple tee shirt underneath a thin hoodie, a wristband on each arm, fitted jeans messily tucked into a pair of high top converse sneakers, and a pair of shin high socks underneath - all of which are black, as well as an accurate representation of his nonchalant tastes.

Unlike him, however, his grandmother has an eye for more colorful clothing.

"He should be here any minute. Are you excited?" The elder woman asks from the bathroom, presently looking in the mirror while putting on a pair of earrings.

"Uuh. I guess so. Kinda' nervous." He answers honestly.

"Don't be. You're just like your father, you know. Calm and simple. Doesn't say much or do much. Kind, too."

"Doesn't say or do much?" The youth repeats under his breath, somewhat frowning in reaction. Not quite sure how to feel about the comparison.

"I see." He speaks up this time.

"Uh huh. Not sure if he's a church man, but--"

KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK!

The grandmother's notion is interrupted by someone knocking at their apartment door. Naturally, and before she could even ask, the young man rises to go answer it.

"Can you get that, Galvin?"

"Yeah, I got it." He answers from the kitchen, soon extending a hand to grip the doorknob.

"Who is it?" The boy asks.

"Gale." A masculine voice answers dryly from the other side. It's a name the teen isn't familiar with at all. Briefly looking over his shoulder, he calls out to his legal guardian.

"Hey, Bibi? It's someone named Gale. You know him?"

"That's him, that's him! That's your father." She answers, now frantically rushing to finish getting ready.

That very answer hits him with a wave of nerve trembling anxiety. His chest begins to feel heavy as he reaches for the locks. Meekly undoing both top and bottom before holding his breath. He peels the door open and lays eyes upon a tall man dressed formerly under an open trench coat. 6'5 in height, minor yet rough facial hair upon a fairly strong jawline, a head of raven shoulder-length shaggy hair, and skin of peanut butter complexion that's just a shade and a half lighter than the boy's. Identical features; eye shape, brows, eye color, and hair color. There's an air of grayness and simplicity to him. A man with a look of stoic honesty in his eyes, and jaded softness behind his words. There was no mistake that the two are definitely related.