Brianna Acero and the Second One's Return

46. Diana Khan, the Iron Man fan

I make it down to the city in a record time of ten minutes, which is good because it gives me more time to wander around and find out where I need to go. It's been ages since I've been to Anai, and everything looks so different. New stores replace the old restaurant's mom and I used to go to together; and the old business district had been replaced with a giant stadium for concerts. A digital screen shows the latest K-pop group that's going to be performing there, but I don't have time to stop and wonder who it is or if I know them, so I keep walking.

"Where are you," I mumble, as I pass by the same Indian food restaurant I walked by only five minutes ago.

"Where are you!"

People bump into me from all sides as I stumble down the road, and I nearly get run over by a hover boarder who isn't looking where he's going. I wish Kalen were here, people seem to be repelled by him, giving him space for miles. I nearly come to a full stop when I realize just how much I miss him. It's weird not having him here with me, or any of the others for that matter. But they are all out doing their part, trying to complete the mission, the least I can do is do the same.

After cursing to all the gods above, and then apologizing and begging for their help, I finally stumble upon a small book store wedged in between two office buildings. The small shop seems very out of place with all the glass walls and high-tech buildings, looking quaint with its little wooden roof and brick exterior. It's nice, gives a touch of color to the otherwise monochrome environment. I step inside, hearing a bell jingle above the door frame. An elderly lady looks up from the register but goes back to her book once she sees me wander deeper into the shelves of books. I glance at the clock.

3:40

I made it before Diana! And here I was expecting to have missed her.

I spot a small yellow couch near the children's section, so I decide to grab a book and get comfortable while I wait. I'm not even paying attention to what I pick up, which is why a surprised smile graces my face when I realize which one I chose. It's not even a proper book, more like a compilation of old comics, but as I flip through it, old memories resurface, making a feeling of nostalgia settle in my chest.

"The Incredible Hulk" "The Amazing Spider-Man" "Iron Man"

These were all of my dad's favorite comic books. He used to read them to me as goodnight stories, and I remember how Mom would get all mad at him, telling him that they weren't "real" books.

"Read her something educational," she would scold him, leaning in my doorway, face cast in shadows as she watched my dad lay in bed with me, tucked under the blanket with a new comic book in hand.

"That is not appropriate for a child her age."

"Of course it is!" He would exclaim, smiling at her annoyance. "Everyone needs their superheroes!"

He would then go on and on about how it was educational because it talked about mutations, or how it would teach me to use my Gift for good, and Mom would just shake her head, pretending to be upset even when we all knew she was hiding a smile under her serious facade.

"When I have a Gift, will I be like them?" my younger self would ask him, pointing at the superheroes on the colorful page. He would smile and pat my head, hugging me a bit tighter.

"You will be better than them," He would say with a twinkle in his eye.

And then we would read another comic because I would beg for more, and in the end we would stay up reading a third one because Dad forgot the ending to it and needed to remember "for old times sake."

Then he'd kiss me on the cheek and tuck me in.

"Good night Brutal Bri," he would say, muttering the superheroes name I had given myself when we first started reading comic books together.