Hero

ADRIAN

               What should I do?

               Sergei was about to kill LeBron, and I was just sitting there, watching it happen. LeBron turned his head towards me.

               "Adrian, you're scared. You have to do something. Think clearly," he paused and winced as Sergei's knife drew blood from his throat. "I let you stay here so you could help me, didn't I?!" He was right.

               Sergei ruined my childhood and my life. He killed my parents and burned my house, leaving the mystery of what was in the cellar locked in my head. He manipulated me with his lies and allowed me to become hypnotized by Alexander. They experimented on my mental health, trained me to become a killer like Sergei, and counted me as insurance. I didn't ask for this life, and I was sick of it!

               "Sergei!" I yelled, running at him. He took out his whistle and blew it. I winced but kept running. I swung my fist toward him, but he caught it, so I swung my other fist, but he caught that one, too.

               "I guess you're stuck, little guy," he smirked. I smirked back.

               "No..." I still stammered, "Guess again!" I twisted my wrists and grabbed his. Then, I threw an upward kick into his face. I know I promised, but technically, this wasn't fighting. This was self-defense.

               "You little devil," he said, staring at me with the same smirk. "You'll pay for that." I certainly would. Sergei reversed the operation. He grabbed my wrists, thrust his knee into my jaw, then swung and threw me into the wall he had thrown me into before, but this time, it was worse. I couldn't breathe at all. Everything became blurry, and I thought I would pass out, but amazingly, I didn't. All of a sudden, someone grabbed me and started running. They stopped, took out a harpoon gun, and we were flying upward to the window the next thing I knew. The person carrying me was LeBron. He carried me out the window, set me on the roof, and climbed up. I got on my hands and knees and coughed.

               "Do you need this?" LeBron asked me, holding an inhaler. I cleared my throat as I caught my breath.

               "N-no..." I answered. "I-I'll be...f-fine."

               "Your stuttering has gotten worse," he told me, "Have you been practicing your English lately, or are you still procrastinating?" I scoffed at his question.

               "I already...know everything...there is to know about English," I retorted, standing up. "I'm just a little...tense right now..." I watched as LeBron wrapped his wounds. I remembered how he fought with Sergei. He was so fast, and he was excellent with knife combat. I wanted to be just like him. Spy and Agent wasn't a suitable title for him. He was a hero.

               He noticed my staring and stopped.

               "What?" he asked me, staring back. "Why are you staring? That's rude."

               "I just..." I stammered, "I've never seen you fight before. You...you're amazing...an amazing fighter. Th-thanks for saving me." He scratched the back of his head.

               "Well, thanks, and you're welcome," he said, "But we can't stay here. We must return to the courthouse and notify the SIU where Sergei Abdulov has been last sighted." He stood up. I looked at his wounds again.

               "Don't your injuries hurt?" I asked him, "I would be dead."

               "I have the strength of mind to ignore my physical pain," he told me, "Call it 'fortitude."

               "F-for...ti...tude?" I repeated, "Fortitude?"

               "That's right," he replied, "Now, on your feet. Do you know parkour?"

               "Of course I do," I answered, "Otherwise, I wouldn't have gotten in trouble with the police this morning."

               "Great, then let's go."