The nights were increasingly cold this time of year. Under the broken lights of a busy city and the wan moon, it seemed a little colder than usual. Quite often the skies were clouded with smog, but the cold always seemed to thin it out somehow. This night in particular, the stars were clearly visible, shining up in the sky like tiny beacons of possibility, and only disturbed by the occasional WASP or RAHT zooming by overhead. Since the existence of alien life was proven some years ago, it was a question as to which stars were the suns for some other Earth, with some other beings looking up at a different set of constellations and wondering the same thing. In fact, it was because of this proof that the UN went as far as to build a fully functional space station in a mass effort to try to prepare for any other contact attempts. But there never was any contact. The station served better as a super-satellite for various media and military entities, as well as a Holiday Inn for the rich. To be fair, it needed its funding from somewhere. Stars and satellites; they were nothing more than a long dead dream for old men.

Closing time had come once again to Frank’s Hardware. One by one the lights went out until only two dim ones remained, followed by the sound of the electric ShutterSafe doors coming down on the other side of the front windows. Due to a lack of care or upgrading over the years, the scrape of metal and stiff rollers made for an uncomfortable symphony, but they still served their purpose well enough. The faint beeps and clicks of the computer were barely noticeable beyond the shutters and the shuffling of an old man’s feet.

“Boy.” The word was more of a husky, breathy bark, coming from an old man. It was followed immediately by quick small steps from the back of the shop, which emerged in the form of a child. Catching up to the old man easily, the boy barely slowed before a wave from the old man urged him on.  A few more shuffled steps landed the old man at the front counter. Luminescent blue light exaggerated the creases of the man’s face as he touched a pad behind the counter. His watery brown eyes looked dully at the disembodied blue light while it actualized into an indiscernible image. The image rotated and expanded slightly until a map of the shop became clear. The old man’s liver-spotted hand reached out to a virtual section of shelves and stopped just before touching it. He looked at the back of his hand for a long moment, studying it. The tremors were small, but constant. Frank ol’ boy, how long can we keep doing this? he thought to himself. Most of his thoughts remained with only him these days.

Tapping a section of the store on the map, the virtual shelf expanded until it was the only image, showing tools and other stock, all blue lined basic shapes, but easy to tell what each one was. Before Frank could go further, the process was interrupted as he was seized by a fit of coughing and wheezing. Taking his hands off of the counter, Frank grabbed his chest, and the image disappeared. He grabbed the edge of the counter and braced himself, the wheezing becoming gasps, and then deep breaths. The parts were old, but at least they were originals. Most people he knew didn’t make it to his age without some artificial parts, and there were spare parts for just about everything these days, if you had the credit.

The boy was next to him again. Frank didn’t bother looking at him as he rasped between breaths, “I’m fine... Go back.” He tried to sound reassuring, but failed. The boy stood still, resolute.

“Let me do it this time.”

“No. Go back.”

“You know I can do it. I know how. And I’m better than you.”

Frank leveled a look at him then. All these things were probably true, he knew. Admitting it was hard though. Giving over was harder. Frank had to admire the boy’s tenacity though. He was just like his mother that way. Looked nothing like her though, except for the nose and certain expressions, like the one he had right then. Only nine years old, but his grandson was certainly more capable than a man who’d passed his ‘Use by’ date years ago.

With a sigh he waved his hand toward the counter. Without the slightest hesitation, the boy deftly pulled himself up to sit on the counter, a broad smile splitting his face. No sooner was he up there than the blue light came back, the images rotating and changing with each touch. He brushed his wavy dark hair away from his eyes with one hand while he navigated with the other. There seemed no point in sticking around, so Frank shuffled off toward the front door. Not only would his grandson probably finish the closing procedures faster than Frank could, he would most likely make it to the door first as well. Frank used the opportunity to get a head start. He managed to get there first, so he continued on to wait outside. It wouldn’t be long before the boy made it out as well.

All along the street there were much newer buildings than the one Frank walked out of. Frank’s Hardware store was in one of the few buildings left that were built with vintage material like brick and concrete. The sleek look of various colored metal and tinted glass comprised of the majority of establishments around larger cities these days. Frank preferred something with historical significance, as most old men did. These new buildings lacked character. Cars were much the same: all sleek but no real style.

Tired of looking at everything younger than him, Frank’s attention was drawn to the skies, and he pulled his coat closed against the cold. It wasn’t often that the stars were so visible. More often than not these days, Frank was drawn to the stars, musing on the possibilities of the universe and the use of his life over the years. Or uselessness might have been a more apt description as he saw it.

Born in an era where everyone wanted to believe in something extraordinary, Frank was too old to get caught up in false hopes and fanciful ideals. These were reserved for the young, for kids like his grandson, Tolmer. People like Frank just got on with it. They grit their teeth, worked through joint aches, kept their attention on what was right in front of them, and were grateful for every second of it. At his age, anything outside of that was frivolous. He’d had a decent life though, a long life, including a wife and daughter, and now a grandson. However, it wasn’t without its tragedies.

It was a tumultuous time when Frank first came into being. On her last day of work before taking maternity leave, Frank’s mother was caught in the devastation of the World Trade Center after it was struck by a plane in 2001. Frank’s father, a NYC firefighter, died in a hasty attempt to rescue her. His body was found later during the cleanup. She had been saved, just not by him, and not for long. By some miracle, the injuries sustained by his mother were not shared with the unborn Frank. He was extracted from her while doctors labored to keep her alive. They called time of death only minutes later. His father’s best friend came to claim him later that day. Named after his father by the same man that raised him, Frank was briefly known as a miracle baby.  He was often referred to as special; told he had lived for a reason, and for a long time he did his best to believe it. He grew up watching superhero movies and wanting to be just like them. An amazing comic collection proved his dedication to the genre. As he got older, he just wanted them to be real, hoping some experiment might cause a change in someone’s DNA and creating a superbeing. Throughout the years, there were attempts by some people to be some form of hero, but they usually ended abruptly and badly, and they were never very super. The lucky ones were the ones that got arrested.

The years passed quickly, and as they did Frank watched the world develop. Watched, but never got involved. Wars came and went. Buildings got taller, and concrete was eventually replaced by a new substance that was a hybrid version of aerated metal. Cars got more efficient and at some point started hovering, then flying. New energies were created and harnessed in different ways, both weapons and standard household appliances. Computers got smaller, and they seemed to be in everything, including most people. But people never seemed to change. At one point it seemed that they would, when a ‘real’ superhero emerged. Strong, fast, and able to fly, Lakin Rekano was everything you could hope for in a hero. He managed to take down quite a few thugs until his circuitry failed him during flight. It was not a happy landing. That’s when the world realized that bionics worked, or at least could work.  Lakin became a great disappointment after that, and cybernetics eventually became more common, for those who could afford it. He was later deemed a fraud, and for a while Lakin’s name was a household synonym for a false hero. “Did you hear about that Lakin who tried to take down a mob boss in his own home? He got one shot off before he was made into swiss cheese.”

That was also when Frank decided that heroes weren’t real. At least not superheroes. His father and his ilk were the last of the real heroes, back when people risked their lives by willingly running into burning and collapsing buildings to save other people. But all real heroes eventually died in an act of heroism. Frank was no hero. That’s why he lived so long. No heroes lived as long as him. And he’d never heard of any old heroes anyway. He had hoped he’d live long enough to see a real superhero one day though. Another dead dream.

Frank was jolted out of his revelry by the swishing sound of the sliding doors opening. Already talking, Tolmer had emerged with a small action figure of some sort that Frank couldn’t guess the name of, imitating a flying motion with it. He was speaking fast and not directly engaging his grandfather, so it took a moment for Frank to understand what he was saying. Something about warriors not needing to close a shop. He often yammered at him like this. Maybe it was because Frank didn’t talk much. Maybe it was because the boy didn’t have a father. Unfortunately for Tolmer, he’d never known his father. So that made Frank the only male role model available. The only thing his daughter had ever said about the father was that it was a minor indiscretion of which she remembered very little about. A one-time thing, she was caught up in the moment and left with a small gift that would become Tolmer a few months later, and she didn’t regret a thing. Although disappointed at first, eventually Frank didn’t regret the product of that chance encounter either. With his wife long dead, his daughter and his grandson were Frank’s only family now, and he was grateful for them both.

The doors slid closed behind Tolmer as Frank began to fumble with his keys. His grandson continued to chatter away at him happily as he searched for the right one. “Anyway, I think it would be sweet,” he was saying. Frank found the key he was looking for and locked the doors. “But what would you rather have, Grampa? A sword? Or, like an energy cannon?! I don’t think a sword could beat a cannon. BuhCHOW!” Tolmer aimed his fingers at some imaginary enemy in the distance.

Switching keys, Frank inserted another into the control box next to the doors. The lid slid up and revealed a dim-lit screen which Frank put his palm on, fingers spread wide. It beeped and flashed under his hand, and he continued to hold it there while a small red light flashed next to the screen. Tolmer hadn’t even paused to take a breath, holding his action figure with one hand and pretending to hold a gun in the other.

“Unless it was a superhero.” Frank grunted at that. “A superhero with a sword could chop the cannon in half, and it’d be all like pshhhbukoww. And then he’d chop up the guy with the cannon. HAH!”

“No such thing,” Frank grumbled. He didn’t expect Tolmer to hear, but he did.

“As what?”

“Hm?”

“No such thing as what?”

The blinking red light became a steady green one, and Frank removed his hand. He sighed as he turned around to say, “Nevermind.” But Tolmer didn’t let it go.

“As superheroes? That's what you meant, isn't it.” Tolmer had stopped pretending and was looking skeptically at his grandfather. “There is such things as superheroes Grampa.”

Frank frowned and sighed again. Too shrewd, that boy. How long would he let this boy hold onto his dreams?

“One day, I’m gonna be a superhero, and you’ll see, Grampa. I’m gonna bust up baddies all up and down the street.” He began punching some imaginary bad guys.

“Right.” Frank decided he’d leave him to his dreams and imaginings. It would all have to end some day, but he might as well let him have them for a bit longer.

The last security door squeaked down, and Frank was satisfied to leave. With Tolmer in tow, still chattering on, they started toward the car with one last glance at the sky. Right as he was about to look away, he noticed something. A shadow streaked silently across the sky at rapid speed, and it suspiciously resembled the shape of a man. But it couldn’t have been. He disregarded the ridiculous thought. All that talk about superheroes had him seeing things.

“Did you see that Grampa?!” Tolmer was tugging on Frank’s sleeve and pointing excitedly at the sky.

Shaking his head, Frank put his hand on Tolmer’s shoulder to urge him on and said, “It was noth-“ but he was cut off by the sound of a small ‘boom’ and a high pitched whirring in the distance. Blinking and searching for the source of the noise, he spotted a RAHT spinning through the air, smoke trailing it and apparently out of control. With a start, he realized that it was headed in his direction. And it was coming down fast.

Looking back at the shop, some small hope of escape to the inside of the building was quashed by the sight of the security door reaching the ground, stopping and latching. The turbulent whirring was getting louder. People began to scream and run in every direction, though some still in their cars hadn't noticed the commotion, and so they remained where they were, blissfully unaware of the impending carnage headed their way.

Frank yelled, “RUN BOY!” but Tolmer was transfixed by the event at hand, and didn’t budge. Franks mind raced during the remaining few seconds. He silently cursed himself for being so old and weak. Too slow to run, too weak to carry Tolmer. Useless. Thoughts of his daughter flashed, and he considered the torment she would endure over losing her only son. Frank’s time was coming soon anyway, but Tolmer was just a child. Looking at his grandson,the thought of the boy's torturous death ripped Frank apart on the inside, an agony that almost completely disabled him.

The RAHT came down as a spinning chunk of smoldering metal, slamming into the side of the building next to Frank’s Hardware. Leaving a mess of broken glass and crushed alloy in its wake, it bounced off of the building and crashed down hard into the street only 40 meters from where Frank and Tolmer were standing, obliterating a couple of escapees in the process. Its momentum was carried through as it smashed into a number of cars, immediately triggering an explosion, which only managed to encourage the momentum of the hunk of RAHT and lifting the impacted cars. Most of it was headed right toward Frank and Tolmer, a small morsel for this beast of blazing destruction to devour in its path.

Frank barely saw it all out of the corner of his eye, so intent was he on his grandson. He knew it was coming; he didn’t need to watch it. But Tolmer was watching it with a terrified fascination. This boy with the whole world to explore, at the very dawn of his life, who deserved the same amount of years Frank had, or more - was going to die.

Frank never did anything worthwhile with his life. He never took a chance, never travelled, and never had he ever lived up to the reputation of his father nor the expectation of those who knew him. Never would he be special like they said. But there was one thing he could do. He refused to do nothing this time, and let this boy whom he loved so much die. Not without a fight. It’s what Frank’s father would do. God help him.

As the beastial inferno raged toward them, Frank moved faster than he had in 30 years, using every ounce of strength he had to throw himself onto Tolmer. He wrapped every bit of himself around the boy as he pushed him toward the ground, his back against his inevitable doom, and he yelled in Tolmer's ear to be heard over the roar of the beast, “I love you, Boy.” They were words that Frank rarely said to anyone anymore. Tolmer deserved to hear it at least once, and he was sorry he hadn’t told him every day of his life. He wished he would have had a chance to say it one more time right then, but as he opened his mouth again, his back erupted in the most horrific pain he’d ever felt, as the corner of a torn car door ripped open his back on its way by. Words of love turned into a howl of pain. Had he not ducked, Frank would have been taken with it. The intense pain made him want to let go. Instead of releasing his grandson however, Frank tightened his embrace even more. He could not give up yet.

The raging fire came right behind the shredded car, immediately enveloping the two. All around them horrified screams were smothered by a blanket of burning death. Frank heard none of it; only the deafening roar of the inferno as it rolled over and through him. The pain he had only just felt from the car door seemed a distant memory in comparison to what the heat brought. Tears that tried to force their way out of his eyes evaporated instantly. He knew he was dying, so he squeezed his eyes shut and held on tight, his mouth open in a silent scream. Tolmer began to scream. Frank wasn’t sure what was worse, the pain of the flames or hearing Tolmer’s dying screams. The agony of that was even worse than the fire. Frank wasn’t a religious man, but he was praying then. If God was just, he would let him do this one good thing in his life, and this boy would live.

What seemed like an eternity was only happening in milliseconds. At the pinnacle of Franks anguish, the heat receded almost as fast as it had come. He could still hear Tolmer’s scream, but it was turning deeper and deeper until it almost matched the roar of the blaze. Everything seemed incredibly strange, insanity brought on by the pain, but maybe that was what dying was like. After all, he’d never done it before.

Utterly confused, Frank opened his eyes to see what was either his afterlife, or his miracle. Through blurry vision, what he saw in front of him baffled him even more. Though it was still mostly dark, a faint glow was illuminating the basic shape of Tolmer, but he appeared wrong, strange. The fire was still raging all around him, he could tell, but it was not touching him. Somehow, something was stopping it. He tried to blink away the bleariness to get a better view of Tolmer. He was there in front of Frank, but he was different, changing, shifting and getting bigger. Frank tried to hold on to him, but he was losing his grip. The last vestiges of his strength were leaving him, and everything felt peculiar in his hands as he tried to keep steady. He couldn’t feel any hair on Tolmer, and the skin seemed rough. No, not rough. Smooth, but hard.

After the blaze died down a few long seconds later, more light began to filter through the edges of some sort of barrier that the two were encased in. The barrier fell away on either side of Frank, opening up a world still burning all around him. Through the black smoke, the devastation was immense. Now that he could see better, he discovered that it wasn’t a barrier at all. It was… Impossible. Massive bat-like wings fluttered heavily on the ground. Frank hesitantly turned his gaze from the wings to where Tolmer’s face should have been with a look of wonder and perplexity. A completely different face took the place of Tolmer’s, peering from its own wings to Frank. Scales and a snout, this thing almost seemed as shocked as Frank.

It was not Tolmer.

Frank stared, unable to move, completely dumbstruck. He half wondered if he had died, and this was the Devil come to take him to Hell. Judging by his surroundings, it could have been Hell. Destruction and ruin everywhere, marked by lazy fires over damaged buildings and half-incinerated cars made it hard to tell the difference between Earth and Hell. And there was no way to survive a fire like that. He should be dead. Hell was the only possible explanation. And Heaven couldn’t look like this.

Then something happened that would forever change Frank’s perception of the world. As he looked into the large, deep, solid blue eyes of this creature, the slightly lizard-like face opened up its elongated mouth to reveal a sharp, toothy maw. Frank couldn’t believe it. He had just gone through all of that just to have his face eaten by the Devil. But those dark eyes seemed…amused. Was that a smile?

It giggled, causing a rumble underneath Frank. And then, in Tolmer’s voice, it said, “Toldja.”

Tolmer?!  “Oh Jeezus.” Combined with the pain, the shock was too much for Frank to take. He passed out on the blue-scaled chest with a fleeting thought about finding the boy’s father.