Heroes... There's no such thing as a hero...
Only those who save in order to receive something, whether it be money, fame, or glory.
But (Name) learned that a while ago, his dreams crushed in front of him by those he admired. After that, his life we...
"Who do you think you are kid!? You're not a hero, you're just some punk who wanted to play hero. You're not cut out for the job!"
That was the day that (Name)'s idealization of heroes died, all of them. Nothing but fakes and frauds attempting to bask in the limelight for glory, fame, or money. If he couldn't trust them then who could he trust.
The people who are supposed to protect those in need are those who lie and hide behind masks? Why did people have to be so fake?
(Name)'s eyes opened slowly, taking in the dingy apartment he was staying in for the time being, a disappointed sigh escapes him as he gets up. Judging by the lack of light peering through the blinds, it must be night.
"Time for work." (Name) spoke through his half asleep state and the fatigue that rocked him like a gut check. Standing up and moving to his laptop, he opened it to reveal a singular icon on the screen that read out "Thieves Guild." Clicking it to reveal a plethora of information on multiple hits that he could make, a message then popped up.
"You've got the history museum on 5th and Hydren." This made him nod, all he did was open the message and then close the laptop. Going to his closet and stepping onto a loose floorboard, a box was catapulted up from unde the floor. He catches him and the opens it to reveal a set of clothes.
Once he was fully dressed, he walked past a dirty and cracked mirror, catching a glimpse of himself in it.
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Putting the blackened skull mask onto his face to conceal his facial features, then strapping his sword onto his hip. Throwing the window open and hopping out onto the fire escape. Making his way up the stairs to the roof and immediately leaping off the roof in a graceful swan dive.
A pair of dark, almost sinister wings sprout from his back as he flies off toward the museum. As he flew, he took notice of the billboards around him, across all of them were the same pictures of four different ones. One with a blonde fox girl. One with a very... suggestive woman with glasses. One of them with a girl with buns in her hair who looked like she'd rather die than be in the camera. The last one had a girl with a ponytail hanging out the back of her hat.
(Name) shook his head at the idea of listening to music when he was trying his best to survive. He didn't have time for that!
As he approached the museum, the first step of his master plan was to take out the guards at the security station. Seemed easy enough, at least.
Sneaking to the security station on the northern end of the complex that held the museum. Noticing one guard outside the booth, smoking a cigarette. A smirk crossed (Name)'s lips, he flicked his finger forward, this made the guard start to choke on some smoke.
"Now's my chance." He nonchalantly states, rushing forward and burying his foot in the mans knees. A sickening crack was heard, the guard went to scream before the butt of (Name)'s blade went to the top of his head, effectively knocking him the fuck out. Once the body was slumped, he rolled the body into a bush.
