Never Heroes: Act I

Chapter 7

Never Heroes

Act I

VII: Pancakes

Sleep was interrupted when the warm smell of pancakes hit Emily's nose like a train. Awoken from her slumber, she noted that Chip was gone, but the indent of his body on the couch and his warmth remained. It was dark outside; the only light in the apartment came from the kitchen, where she could see Chip slaving away over the stove top. Walter had yet to move away from his laptop, the glow of the screen illuminating his tired face.

Weary of sitting idly, she decided to move herself off the couch and join the boys in the kitchen. Walter didn't notice her, but Chip did. A large grin on his face, he greeted, "You're awake! I'm making us breakfast! Well, more like brinner since it's breakfast for dinner..."

She plopped down in a chair next to Walter. For a brief second his eyes left his computer screen just to identify what had landed next to him. They made eye contact for a fleeting moment. Fresh pancakes placed in front of her and a tall glass of milk tore her eyes away. They smelled damn good.

"You woke up just in time!" Chip said with a smile.

"Did we f**k? Because no straight guy just makes pancakes for a girl without reason," she deadpanned. All Chip could do was laugh awkwardly, unsure whether it was meant to be a joke or a serious inquiry. Again, Walter viewed the two curiously but silently. Emily felt his eyes and went to return his gaze, yet he had already turned backed to his work when she looked toward him.

Annoyed at the sudden tension in the room, she furiously grabbed the utensils off the table and cut her pancakes with passion. Even when she chewed she tried to make it appear as though she could hardly stand being there. Soft, fluffy pancakes with a sprinkle of sugar attacked her taste buds and she couldn't help but slow down.

Chip recognized the look of satisfaction on her face and said, "Still the way you like your breakfast, huh? And you probably thought I forgot!"

She wanted to say, "No, I knew you would never forget. You're weird like that." Instead she remained silent and focused on the delicious food in front of her. Chip had always been a delightful cook, even when they were small children. Years of practice had refined his craft, and she regretted not having the chance to eat his concoctions more often. Sarah was a lucky gal.

It brought her back to their younger days, when - despite the wishes of their parents - their entire group would crash under one roof. All of them would wind up on the floor of someone's bedroom, so entangled a person couldn't even walk through without stepping on a body. Once all of them had woken up and rubbed the dreary sleep from their eyes, Chip would make them coffee and breakfast without fail.

She wondered if the two guys thought about moments like that anymore. If she were to be honest, she would have to admit she yearned to return to those days. Being a teenager wasn't exactly easy, but each of them had a passion for life that could never be matched. Real life hadn't hit them yet. Reality's harsh hands hadn't strangled their dreams from them. Love was an idealized pursuit, friendship never ended, and their future seemed to stretch on forever.

Yet all of that ended up being false optimism. Summer crushes that turned into serious relationships faded when winter hit. Graduation saw the bitter end of various friendships, and when she moved to New York she essentially lost track of them all. And the future? That was now the past, and for Sarah, the future never materialized. It was over for her. s**t, it was over for all of them at this point.

The last bite of her pancake was swallowed. Walter shut his laptop. "I'm going to catch some sleep while I can," he announced. Perhaps it was due to the lack of sleep, but he sounded snippy. It was almost as though he had read her thoughts and felt just as irritated at how upside down their lives and turned.

"Okay," was all Chip said. The duo watched as Walter gave them a lazy wave over his shoulder before he disappeared around the corner toward the two bedrooms. The sound of a door being clicked shut got something moving inside Emily's head.

"Let's go out," she suggested. The last large chomp of pancake got lodged in his throat at the sudden proposal and he needed to down a tall glass of milk to save himself the pain of coughing. This gave her a chance to explain, "Boring Walter has finally gone to bed, so we can hit up the bars unchaperoned. This is the sleaziest town in a hundred miles. Even getting you laid should be easy."

Confidence was absent when he set his empty glass down and said, "Okay..."

That's how he ended up in a dark, crowded bar in a town he'd visited only a handful of times in his youth. Crushed up against a stranger with too little clothing and a shouting Emily, he wasn't exactly comfortable. Between the god-awful cover band playing and the insane amount of conversing, he couldn't even hear what Emily was screaming about. Eventually, whatever got her riled up got her out of her chair and into the crowd, an accusing finger pointed toward the offender the entire time.

Alone, Chip sighed. Alright, so he wasn't alone, but the woman pressed against him wasn't really catching his eye. A few more flirtatious attempts on her end lead to nothing. Annoyed, she left him, off to find some other lonely man willing to buy her a drink. Emily would have berated him for not jumping at the chance, but he wasn't wired the same as her. Sleeping with a stranger wasn't going to help him forget about Sarah or push him to move on. It kind of disgusted him.

A pitiful groan escaped his throat as he beat his aching head against the table in front of him. Some man asked if he was alright, to which Chip just waved. There was just no reason for him to be there. He wanted to suffer alone in his bedroom, surrounded by the things that forced him to remember her smile, her smell, her laugh, her silly jokes, her wonderful, loving eyes...

Something caused all the noise around him to grind to a halt. All he could hear was the sound of fist meeting face, chair meeting arm, and kicks hitting guts. Forced by curiosity to lift his head off the table; he was only moderately surprised to find Emily in the middle of a brawl that she no doubt started. There was no desire in his being to get up and intervene. She could handle it herself.

It wasn't a fair fight. Three on one, if he counted properly. Despite being outnumbered, she managed to hold her own. A bar stool proved useful when she crashed it over someone's head hard enough to crack their skull open. A fist struck her on her ear, but she recovered quickly and countered. One solid jab knocked that attacker to their knees. Distracted, she failed to notice that the third had pulled a knife.

Whatever had happened, Chip couldn't say. He blacked out. Instinct took over. His mind shut down in fear. When he came to, he had a firm grip on the hand that held the knife. The stranger looked ready to kill. Inside, he panicked. No doubt he was added to the hit list after jumping in like that. How did he get all the way across the bar that fast? It didn't matter. Emily spun around and let her fists knock six solid hits across the last attacker's face.

Just as the seventh was about to strike, Chip snagged her wrist and yanked her away. Hurriedly he lead her out of the establishment and into the streets. Everyone parted as they barreled outside. Police sirens sounded off in the distance. It was time to run.

Chip wasn't sure if his heart was racing from fear or because he'd gotten that out of shape since college. Regardless, his own breathing was loud enough it seemed to take over all his senses. It felt like they had run for miles. His legs ached, his chest burned, and his side was overcome with a sharp pain. Yeah, he was definitely out of shape.

Laughter caused him to halt. All he could do was stare at Emily, confused as to what was so damn funny about running from the police. Sobered up, she throw an arm around Chip's shoulder and said, "Man, that was awesome! You freaked that punk out jumping in like that!"

Cut on her ear and with a bruised cheek bone, she somehow still found the entire situation hilarious. Even though the laughter caused her side to ache almost to the point of crippling her, she couldn't stop the giggles.

He grew impatient with her and said, "I think we should just head back."

"Are you kidding me? We need to find you a lady, first!"

"I really don't want to..."

"There's that b***h!" a voice down the street screamed. Emily looked over her should just in time for her mind to register she needed to duck. A strong burst of air rushed by her head as the attacker's fist missed her by mere inches. Instead, it clobbered Chip right in the jaw. He dropped like a rock, clenching the instant bruise that formed. Nothing else was noticed by him, the pain officially taking control. Whatever happened that that "adrenaline" everyone talked about?

"s**t, don't just lay there, loser!" Emily demanded. Chip could feel her trying to pull him back to his feet, but he couldn't stabilize himself. Much to the surprise of both of them, she wasn't able to get him up. In fact, she slipped; the couple tumbled onto the hard sidewalk. During the first fight in the bar, she'd gotten hit enough times to drop most people, and that was becoming evident. It felt impossible to even attempt to move. All she could think was, Well, f****d up. It was a good life, though.

A blade crashed through the attacker's abdomen. Silenced, the body flopped to the concrete, the fresh pool of blood racing toward them. Somehow, this motivated Emily to move through the pain. She scurried to her feet and helped Chip up as well, finding new strength in her fear. Revealed to them, standing proudly on the dimly lit street, was a man she had never met before. In his hand was the offending weapon; a sword, stained in blood, which was hurriedly sheathed. Clad in heavy armor, the man looked like he stepped out of a renaissance fair. Masked, his face couldn't be seen.

Frightened, she said nothing. He only had one thing to say. "You protected my king; I will forever guard your lives."

Carefully, she began to backpedal. Chip felt like a useless sack of potatoes. A gaze down at his face revealed he had passed out. To this stranger she said, "What the f**k is wrong with you? You just f*****g killed that guy."

"Because he was going to kill you," the man in armor explained.

Wailing police sirens grew closer. "Whatever. I'm getting the f**k out of here. Have fun explaining that to the cops, dumbass," she said. Shifting Chip's weight, she dashed off as quick as her feet would take her.

Apparently, the jarring movement awoke Chip, as he blinked his eyes open. The past ten minutes of his memory banks were cleared. Confused, he questioned, "Where are we?"

"Hell, apparently," she said.

"Ow, my jaw hurts!"

"Shut up. Can you walk?" she asked. It was strange how she could bark an order so rudely like that yet then ask about his health with so much kindness it nearly blinded him.

"Yeah. Thanks."

There was no more desire from either of them to bar hop after that. Injured and freaked out, neither wanted to deal with strangers or accidentally get separated. Being alone in that moment seemed infinitely worse than it did just thirty minutes prior. The trip back to the apartment was mostly silently, save for a few curse words and occasional sigh. Chip inquired as to what exactly caused the fight in the first place, to which she responded, "Some guy was rubbing against a girl and she didn't like it. After the fourth time she told him to back off and he didn't, I decided to tell him to back off."

"He made a mistake not listening to you," Chip said with a small laugh.

"Yeah, well... you would've done the same thing."

To that, Chip said nothing; he didn't even smile. Perhaps he would have years ago, but any desire to be anyone's hero had long left him. Really, he had only ever acted that way for Sarah's attention. At least, that was the conclusion he had reached. Now, he was convinced that it was up to each individual to take care of themselves. It wasn't his business. Strangers weren't worth getting in trouble for. Nothing was gained from risking his well being for another.

He came to an abrupt halt; Emily did the same. He announced, "I'm pathetic now. What happened to me?"

Through the dark she felt confident that she could see tears welling up in his eyes. Chip had always been a crybaby. Uninterested in comforting him and in way too much pain to risk the extra steps to reach him, she said, "Typical."

"When we faced Interfector, I was so cool. I wasn't scared of anything. I wanted to help everyone," he muttered to himself as he caught up with her.

Without thinking she nodded and said, "Yeah. That's because you were too interested in protecting Sarah to even realize what you were doing."

"So you do remember!"

It was her turn to suddenly stop. Eyes wide in realization, she tried to process what exactly she had just admitted. Yet even as the cogs in her mind turned at full speed, she couldn't actually recall any specifics of this supposed fight against the Interfector. The spot where her birthmark started to throb, but she just chalked it up to that hard swipe she had just received in that barroom brawl.

She scowled. "I don't know what you're talking about. Come on," she commanded as she grabbed his hand. "Let's go. You need ice on your jaw, it looks ridiculous."

Chip let her pull him along. It was time to be silent. Talking hurt way too damn much at that moment.