Page 84 of Enchanted Hero
A fresh-faced journalist clutched a microphone. “As we’ve reported, there will be a major announcement regarding the hero tomorrow. We now bring you Timothy Evans, the man who says he knows hero’s true identity.”
The screen switched to a young man in an 80s sci-fi t-shirt. Alexander bit back a curse. “That’s the conspiracy theorist I saved at the press conference.”
“We hear you have a big reveal for us.” The reporter shoved the microphone in his guest’s face. “Tell us what you know.”
Timothy smiled like a man who hadthreewinning lottery tickets. “I’d love to share, but I have to wait for tomorrow’s press conference. Sponsorship, and all.”
“Can you confirm you’ve learned the identity of our hero?” the reporter questioned.
The man’s grin widened. “Let’s just say the world is going to be shocked, especially when they realize they’ve known him all along.”
“You heard it here first.” The reporter’s deep voice boomed. “Stay tuned for hourly updates on this breaking news.”
For seconds, no one spoke. “This is bad,” Carter finally said. “Does he know it’s you?”
“I don’t know.” Alexander exhaled. He’d covered his tracks, or so he thought, yet it hadn’t fooled Andrews and Garrison. It wasn’t impossible another person had discovered the truth. “The press conference is concerning. They wouldn’t pay attention unless he had something to back it up.”
“Like evidence?” Alana whispered.
“Or logic.” Alexander rubbed the back of his neck. “Anything is possible. I’ve been at multiple scenes with the hero. I have the same body size and shape. Agent Andrews and Dr. Garrison already suspect me. It’s not farfetched someone else might as well.”
“He might not even be talking about you,” Alana offered. Several murmured their agreement, yet most stayed silent.
He could not fault their pessimism. “We should formulate a plan for the worst-case scenario.”
“We just got word of a bank robbery in Miami.” The television once again snagged his attention, as the reporter held a hand to his earpiece. “Five armed men are holding hostages at Hollowell Bank in Miami. We’re going live to Jill Evans, who is on the scene.” The image turned to a young blond reporter surrounded by shouting and sirens.
“Police are trying to negotiate,” the newscaster immediately reported, “but sources say it’s not going well. They’re threatening to shoot if authorities don’t provide an immediate escape route.”
Every muscle tightened, the urge to help nearly inescapable. How could he let people die if he could do something, and yet how could he risk further exposure for his people? A mere moment passed before he made the only decision he ever could. “If I do nothing while people die, what use are my powers? I have to help.”
They stood silent, then one by one nodded, not just accepting, but supporting his decision. Sharing that they were willing to risk their lives to save others.
His sister stepped forward. “I want to help.”
“No,” Alexander issued the immediate denial. “I won’t risk anyone else. I will handle the situation.”
He gave her no opportunity to argue as he beckoned his magic, in an instant donning his signature costume. No use in changing it – they would know him no matter what he wore. He called his magic once more, and the world disappeared, reforming into a small storage closet. Yelling sounded directly outside the door.
“I’m tired of waiting! It’s time to convince the police we’re serious. If we shoot one of the hostages now, they’ll know we’re not bluffing.”
Alexander fisted his hands, as cries splintered the air. Using his powers, the door appeared invisible to him. Two dozen hostages, men, women andchildren, sat huddled on the floor. One hostage stood, a gun pointed straight at his head.
If he barged in there, he’d get shot. And while he would recover from a gunshot wound quickly, it would still hurt him, enough that he could be immobilized, captured or worse. He needed another plan.
Ideas twisted and turned, finally forming something resembling a plan. It might not be the most subtle way to get it done, and it risked exposure, but it was the only way to ensure no one got shot. Alexander called his magic and focused on the guns, yet the mist remained with him. Task accomplished, he opened the door and walked out.
Dozens of shocked people – criminal and captive – stared at him.
“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen,” he calmly remarked.
“It’s him!”
“That’s the guy!”
“I can’t believe it!”
Murmurs of shock rocked the crowd, with little difference between the hostage takers and hostages. The criminals were the first to recover. A giant man with tattoos covering every inch of his body pointed his gun at Alexander’s chest. “No heroics today, buddy. You might be able to fly, but can you take a bullet?”
