The Awakening!

In big red, bright letters, it shines across the city boards. The city lights make it shine brighter than the sun—the crowd circles around it like moths drawn to a flame. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘤𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘥. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘦, 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘹𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘦, 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘢𝘯. A mix of gasps and whispers ring in the streets. It's unbelievable that the great Deadman got caught. I, for one, don't believe them. My hero could never let their greedy hands touch him. I am a firm believer it's a fake, and I'll find out myself. The news screen switches over to a man trapped in a cell. His eyes are covered, and sweat beams down his forehead. He's stuck in a chair facing the camera. The lights flicker, and his body twitches. It cuts off before anything else happens and, in bright blue words, advertises the questioning of the Deadman.

The government will showcase his imprisonment. An inaudible sigh leaves my mouth. A sick world we live in where the government tries to find some way to make money off such a great hero. It reminds me of further embarrassment to our judicial systems like the prosecution of Ted Bundy or the shootout between the authorities and Bonnie and Clyde. False American Heros who never saw the light of day remains free, but the small good people who were pushed too far die or stay behind bars. I HATE this world, and the Deadman wanted to create a new one. I will assist in his remodeling of this world. I will free him from his chains, binding him like an animal.

I rush back home while playing the news info into my earbuds. This Extinction Force sent a spy to look after a suspect and found undeniable evidence. Linking some average guy to all the crimes also matching fingerprints to the knives and weapons used by the deadman to his crimes. They go on and on, but they refuse to tell his name, only speaking on his alias. They want to milk this as far as possible, showcasing his questioning live in front of everyone tonight. I make it to my house in record time; running after school is pain, yet I rush through it. I ignore my mom's pleas and barge into my room, throw down my backpack, and open my laptop.

I look through all my Deadmen support groups speaking with admins to hear the latest news. We are a group created to show the world his true meaning. We spread his will through the media. Members freak out from the newest information, spamming all our board members to assemble. People from all over the world chime in and talk about our following actions. We always have a plan if the Deadman was ever caught, but we never thought we'd put it into effect. Our groups would split into three one to track The Extinction Force, one to find his location, and one to watch the news. They gave me the task of observing news feeds along with the world. This was primarily due to my age. I'm still in school, so I don't have much time compared to our leader—the first-ever fan of The Deadman. No one knows what his looks are. We don't even know if it's a man or a woman. All we know is that he was the first. He was not only the creator of this group but the start of our society. Some speculate that he met the Deadman and knows what he looks like. So, of course, we wait to see if the suspected man the government has is the real one. He chimes in last as we run our respected positions. We all wait. His typing is slow, which is unusual for him. It makes me nervous.

The chat blinks with his name, and my heart freezes. For the first time in my life, I feel grief. 𝑯𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍 𝒐𝒏𝒆. I lean into my chair. Strife fills my face. I cover my mouth as tears fall down my face. Genuine sorrow is plaguing me and others like me. The chat fills with emotes and outrage from other members. The admins try their best to lower the resentment thrown at our leader. He speaks again—code 143. That code is the warning code for us to move into action. I will watch what will happen to him tonight along with others—analyzing every single movement in the camera. I can't wait. After they showcase him, I must watch all the social media sites to see what the world thinks of him. My mother walks into my room which startles me.

"You ran right past me. What's up with you?"

"Sorry, mom, I just witnessed something that I never thought would've happened," I say.

"Well, hurry up, food is almost ready." she makes that statement then leaves me room. Euphoria fills my blood as I jump from my seat. I rush out of my room and right into my big brother Nate. I fall over and look up as he towers over me. Nate is a poor excuse for a big brother. All he does is bully me and push me around. He thinks he's better than me because he is older, but he still lives with his parents even though he graduated five years ago.

"Still just a child, huh, Chris. Why don't you stop running around the house and play with your precious Deadman?" He says.

"So you've heard?"

"Of course, I've heard that your loser Deadman got caught. I can't wait to rub this in your face forever. He's going to die before you ever got to see his face. The best part about this is that a child like you with dreams got shattered before they even began. Grow up, Chris," he says, laughing.

I jump up and run downstairs to the backyard. Right up to my treehouse and hide away from the world. Nate is stupid. My dad is stupid. My mom is foolish. Everyone is ridiculous. They don't understand his message as I do. They don't feel like I do. I can connect to him. The Deadman had the world watching him; I wanted to be watched like he was. I'll show them I'll show all my friends at school and all my family members The Deadman won't die. I stay in my treehouse until nighttime hits, and my dad comes to the backyard.

"Come on, Nate, it's time to come inside and eat."

I can't argue with him, so I follow his instructions. My face doesn't change at all as I walk through the doorway. Resentment and hatred cram my soul for this household. My mother fixes our plates, and we all sit at the table. My father commands us to bow our heads as we all pray. They all pray to some singular god they don't know whether he's real or not. My family listens to the commandments given by God for them to obey but not me. I follow the rules given to us by our great leader in our chat server. He is the priest while our God is in chains. My father speaks first.

"How was school today, Chris,"

"It was okay. I'm still being pushed around by my friends, but they'll understand with time," I say.

The family remains silent for a few seconds. My father rubs his temple, his face flashes with disappointment.

"You got to stop believing in that fantasy world of yours. You're not going to be saved by some criminal like him, and I hope when he dies, you'll understand that! The Deadman dies tonight," Nate yells.

I jump up from my seat while slamming my fork on the table.

"This is why I hate this family. You don't understand me."

I rush back up to my room, throwing down my chair. I slam my door behind me and fall in my bed. Tears run down my face as I bite my pillow in anguish. I scream as loud as I can and throw my covers off my bed. My father yells at me to stop, and I comply. I sit there silently now. Striving praying something helps me release myself from this world. I turn on my light then sit back on my bed. I sit in the dark; my light begins to flicker as I look into the mirror. My room starts feeling hazy, I try to stand, but I nearly pass out. I feel the urge to puke as I hold my stomach back. My room begins spinning, swaying back and forth forward, then straight. I lung towards the mirror and collapse on the floor. I try reaching my arm at the door to scream for some help but to no avail—I blackout on the floor in the middle of the night.

I awake in my bed; sweat glistens off my forehead. I look over, feeling sick to my stomach again. I reach for my phone and look at the time. 10 pm, The Deadman is being interviewed now. I snap on my PC to the quickest news website available. In widespread letters ticks a countdown. I'm ten seconds early, it seems, and I breathe a sigh in relief. I wait for the timer, my heart beating away as I watch that clock hit zero. A video plays with the words live in the top right corner.

Again we are greeted by a 4k HD video of an interrogation room. In the room is just one chair surrounded by four padded walls. In the chair sits a man, and I open the chat room to confirm that this is 𝘛𝘏𝘌 Deadman. The personal message I receive from the Top admin is but one word. Watch. It's all he gave me in my time of need. Yet it was more than I ever needed. I blink back to the screen, and the man begins shifting in his chair. A woman in all black with her face covered walks into camera view. She stands beside the man and speaks into a microphone.

"Are you the Deadman,"

She starts with the most obvious question. My anxiety ticked away as the man breathed heavily.

"Yes." He says.

His voice is heavy; a stiffening crack appears in his words. The lady walks back behind him now and lifts his face to the camera. His eyes are still covered as she brandishes a knife and carcasses his neck. She asks him another question.

"Do you have supernatural powers?"

That makes my head jump backward. I never assumed or even guessed he had some unnatural ability. A godly power, of course, but not supernatural, I thought. His head nods up and down. The chatroom begins booming with emotes and questions for other members. But I remain on the screen glued to the following actions. The lady looks at the camera now.

"We have filled the room with a particular gas to target people of his kind. His is no anomaly. This moment is just the first time we've caught one alive. Most people with abilities either join us or live out their lives normally. I suppose it wouldn't take long for someone to choose to be evil, not to mention his publicity. I decided to speak with him and pursue him. You're precious Deadman is nothing but a simple man with human problems. He will die along with his image. Ignite the gas!"

Sudden hand movements follow those words; she yanks the blindfold off his face, and his eyes glow in the dark, a shade mix of green and blue. His breathing picks up heavily, and he begins speaking.

"Please not again, I'll do anything. Just don't activate the gas again."

He throws his head upward as he screams. He was begging for mercy, pleading for the gas to stop. His voice echoes in my mind as his eyes glow brighter. The lady grabs his head and points it towards the camera, ensuring we get a good view of the next event. He gasps for air as his eyes glow a different color. It fully envelopes the room with red as he blinks and screams in agony. She holds his eyelids open while he rocks back and forth in the chair. He tries his hardest to fight the smoke, but his eyes bleed. This continues for another few minutes until he can't scream any longer.

I panic and text the leader, questioning is that his death. Is that the end of the great Deadman? He only sends another one-word response. WATCH. I resume the interview, and the Deadman leans toward the camera. He looks into it one more time, and his eyes glow one last color. It felt like he was looking not at everyone but me. It made my body go numb, and my heart started to float. His eyes switch to yellow as he falls back against the chair. My heart sank after that feeling of him looking away. I begin breathing heavily too. He remains there for another three minutes until the lady moves in front of the camera. She begins slashing and stabbing at his body with the knife and cutting different parts of cloth and flesh from The Deadman. She moves from the camera, and we witness blood trickling down his body. She grabs the knife firmly and shoves it into his leg, leaving it there. He yells again but doesn't show any more signs of pain. She whispers something into his ear, and his eyes light up again. Another man walks into camera view. This man wears a white suit and doesn't hide his face. He whispers to the lady in all black, and her face changes. I look to the chat, and we are all on edge. We are waiting for the following information to be received, but nothing. The lady's face changes to discomfort, and she walks past the camera. Shouting of inaudible words is heard past the camera. The deadman takes this chance to speak, and his words are weak, but the meaning is forever.

"Bring peace, my fallen angels."

Another hidden meaning to everyone else, but my group understood it fully. It is the first and only code The Deadman ever created. Code 1. Unleash hell. The camera is turned off, and the Live ends. An enormous amount of news anchors fill in to try to decipher the meaning of his words. They can have their interpretations, but my group knows. I opened the log, and all members were restricted from speaking. The Co admin types only one thing. "See you all tomorrow."