One of the hospital workers muttered into a radio, already waving to the security guards.
"Take him outside." He said it without even looking at the boy.
"B-BUT I—I WANT TO SEE HER!"
Fez's voice cracked, raw and thin, like a child on the edge of tears.
The guard grabbed him by the arm—firm, almost casual, like he was just picking up a toy someone had left behind.
"Get out, boy. You don't know what kind of trauma this girl is facing."
Fez's hands balled into fists, but the fight drained out of him all at once.
He stopped struggling.
Shoulders slumping, he turned toward the door, each step heavier than the last.
Fez went home without really seeing the streets he passed.
He lay on his bed, the springs creaking under his weight. The TV still glowed in the corner, the Super Elite anthem playing so faintly it sounded like it was coming from somewhere underground. but it hit different now.
His gaze drifted to the poster on the wall.
It had come loose on one side—the side where Grek was smiling in the photo, arm thrown around the others like nothing could ever touch them.
That corner of the paper curled and flapped a little with the draft from the window, like it was trying to peel itself off and disappear.
He put his hand over his face, fingers pressing hard against his eyes like he could block out everything.
"I ruined everything…"
His voice barely rose above a whisper.
"If I wasn't there…they…they might have had a chance against him…"
He rolled over on the bed, the thin blanket tangling around his legs.
Somewhere outside, a dog barked again and again, sharp and accusing in the empty street.
"I am useless…useless!"
His voice cracked, but he didn't notice his mom standing in the hallway, peeking through the half-open door.
She watched him in silence, a small sadness settling across her expression as she turned and quietly left.
The TV's volume was low, the Super Elite anthem barely humming beneath the news crawl—until a new banner flashed across the screen, bright enough to snag Fez's attention for a second:
"WE NEED NEW HEROES"
The reporter's voice cut in, steady and unflinching:
"ZEF was defeated, and we're all relieved—but since we've lost two heroes, we need more. Because the villains never shut up. The global contest to choose new heroes will open tomorrow at the government building, and—"
Fez snatched the remote and flicked the TV off. Silence filled the room, leaving only the distant bark of a dog and the weight of what he'd just heard.
A cold whisper curled through the room, low and jagged:
"You're not only useless but miserable and hopeless too…"
Fez blinked, voice flat as concrete:
"I know, right."
He sniffed, shoulders slumping as tears blurred his vision for a moment—just long enough to taste salt on his lips.
Then another sound cut through the gloom, sharper this time, as if something had taken shape behind his ribs and found its voice:
"WHAT?! WHAT?!"
Fez jerked upright, heart hammering against his ribs. He bolted across the room, hands skimming over furniture, each breath a ragged gasp.
"Calm down, idiot," a voice rasped in his skull—softer this time, but laced with impatience.
He slammed on the brakes, chest heaving, and stared at the silent walls. The only sound was his own pulse roaring in his ears.
Fez threw himself against the wall, knees buckling as he screamed,
"MOOOM!!! I THINK I'M DYING MOOOM!!!"
The word tore out of him, jagged and raw.
Then, as if the walls themselves answered back, that rasping voice in his head snapped again:
"CALM DOWN, YOU USELESS PIECE OF NON-STOPPING RADIO!"
Fez clamped his hands over his mouth, forcing himself into complete silence.
"God… you finally shut up... "
Then the voice went quiet for a couple of seconds.
Fez swallowed and let out a shaky sigh.
Now let me ask you a question , boy
Do you want to continue what we started?