Not as usual as everyday

Mike, a seventeen-year-old with an average height and an unassuming demeanor, was not someone you'd pick out of a crowd. His soft brown hair fell slightly over his forehead, and his hazel eyes often reflected a sense of longing—perhaps for something more than the ordinary life he'd been living. Nothing about him screamed "extraordinary," yet there was a fire within him, hidden just beneath the surface. He belonged to a well-known family and was a part of a respected clan in their town. But to Mike, family name meant little if it wasn't earned by personal merit.

His closest companion, Jake, was just as ordinary in appearance—if not a tad more awkward. His features were slightly more uneven, his hair never quite staying in place, and his wardrobe always slightly off-trend. Jake came from a low-profile background. His family wasn't talked about in social circles, and they lived in the quieter part of the neighborhood. Yet, none of that mattered to Mike. In Jake, he had found something rare: a kindred spirit.

The boys were inseparable. Their shared mediocrity in the eyes of the world only brought them closer. It was as if they were two halves of the same soul, driven by a common dream that had bound them since childhood. They weren't concerned with popularity or high school drama. Instead, their minds were consumed with fantasies of heroism—of doing something that would make the world remember their names. They dreamed not of fame, but of purpose. And to them, there was no higher purpose than saving lives.

Their imaginations had always run wild. From the time they could read comics and watch superhero movies, they had envisioned themselves in capes, standing atop skyscrapers, gazing down at a city they had just saved. Even now, as high school neared its end and the weight of adult life loomed ahead, those dreams hadn't dimmed. If anything, they had intensified.

Jake's eyes lit up with excitement as he recounted his dream from the night before.

"Last night, I had a good dream," he said, his voice animated. "We saved a whole passenger crew on a bus."

Mike raised an eyebrow, already half-smiling. "You took control of the wheel when the driver had a heart attack, right?"

Jake's eyes widened. "How did you know that? It was my dream!"

Mike laughed. "It's the cliché dream every kid has. I had it, too. About a hundred times. The heroic rescue. The cheers. The slow-motion moment where everyone looks at you in awe."

Jake grinned. "That just proves we're on the same wavelength. You knew exactly what I saw."

They chuckled together, their steps syncing as they walked down the narrow path toward Jake's house—a place they'd unofficially dubbed their headquarters. Behind his backyard was a little shed and a patch of overgrown grass where they'd spent countless hours playing, talking, and imagining their futures. Today felt different though. There was a sense of urgency hanging between them. They weren't just daydreaming anymore. They were planning.

"We're about to enter university next year," Mike said thoughtfully, staring down at the path as if it held the answers.

Jake nodded. "It's not too late. In fact, this might be the perfect time. Time to make our first real step."

Mike stopped and looked at him. "But what are we going to do, Jake? We've always talked about being heroes. But we live in a world where heroism isn't capes and villains. It's... more complicated."

Before Jake could respond, a soft creak echoed behind them. An old figure emerged from the back porch—Jake's grandmother. Her presence was gentle, yet commanding. She had a crown of white and grey hair, her movements slow but deliberate, her eyes sharp despite the years etched into her face. Her name was Amara, and she had lived through wars, revolutions, and societal transformations. In her eighties now, she was a woman of wisdom—someone the boys had often dismissed as part of the older, out-of-touch generation.

But today, she had something to say.

"Are you two daydreaming again?" she asked with a smile that bore both affection and a hint of teasing. "Still thinking about becoming superheroes?"

Jake looked sheepish. "You know us, Grandma. Some dreams don't fade."

"Well," she said, walking toward them with surprising steadiness, "then listen carefully. If you really want to become heroes in today's world, it's not about capes or saving buses anymore. It's about something much bigger... and far more dangerous."

Mike leaned forward, curious. "What do you mean?"

"In this modern era," Amara said, lowering herself slowly into a chair on the porch, "the greatest battles won't be between men. They'll be between man and machine. Between humanity and the very technology it created."

Jake frowned. "Technology? Like computers and stuff?"

Amara chuckled. "Not just computers. Artificial intelligence. Surveillance systems. Cyber warfare. Digital manipulation. These are the new weapons. In my day, people worried that the third world war would be over water. And perhaps that's still true, in some ways. But more and more, I believe that war will erupt because of technology—because of our overreliance on it, our inability to control it."

Mike's mind raced. "So you're saying... if we want to be heroes, we have to fight a different kind of war?"

"Yes," Amara said, her voice firm. "The battlefield has changed. Hackers can bring down cities. A single line of code can shut down a hospital. Drones, AI soldiers, digital propaganda—these are the weapons now. And heroes will need to be smarter, more adaptable, and yes, more morally grounded than ever."

Jake's eyes sparkled with a strange mix of excitement and concern. "That's a whole different kind of superhero."

Amara nodded. "But perhaps more important than any that ever came before. Technology is a gift, but if it falls into the wrong hands—or even the careless ones—it could spell disaster."

Mike looked at Jake, then back at Amara. "Then maybe that's our calling. Maybe we're not meant to wear capes. Maybe we're meant to understand this new world... and protect people from it."

Amara smiled softly. "Now that, boys, sounds like the beginning of a real journey."

The wind rustled through the backyard, as if nature itself approved of the new direction. The boys felt it too—a shift, a moment that would stay with them forever. They weren't just dreamers anymore. They were at the edge of something real, something dangerous, and something worth fighting for.

And so, beneath the fading orange light of the evening sun, two ordinary boys took their first extraordinary step toward becoming heroes of the future.