Deadly Troubadour

Recently I’ve been working on growing my Twitter followers. As it was nearing 300, in the last minute I stated that the 300th follower could ask for any fantasy style story and I would use that for a story hook. The 300th follower asked for a warrior woman super hero to save the world with a hug. I hope she appreciates what I did with the rest

**In keeping with the themes of this story, any readers suffering from depression might want to read on with caution.**

The air burned around them, a result of Ultrakill’s negalaser. Scorched ozone filled the air.

“Mwahahaha!” The arch villain laughed. “The next blast will not miss! You will be vaporized to nothing! Mwahahaha!”

Power Cat rose from off the ground. “Never! Your mega blast will never hit me!”

“It’s not a mega blast!” roared Uktrakill. “It’s a negalaser.”

“Oh, sorry,” Power Cat replied.

At last, Warrior Woman, last survivor of the Venusians, spoke up. “If you vaporize us, what happens then?”

“Ummmm,” said Ultrakill. “I get to rule the world?”

“Why do you want to do that?”

“Because I’m a bad guy?”

Warrior Woman put away her diamond sword and approached the half robot, half man, half dinosaur.

“Are you sure you’re a bad guy? I mean are you bad in your heart? Maybe you’ve just had a rough time lately. That doesn’t make you a villain. Maybe you just need a little help is all.”

“I… I don’t know,” said Ultrakill. As he spoke, the electronic whine of his negalaser softened to silence. His arms went to his sides.

“You get to decide what happens next. You can be a hero, if that’s what you want. You just need to take that first step and ask for help.”

Slowly, she reached out to the cyber-Dino-man. He held his arms up, trying to keep her away, but as her arms gently wrapped around him, his protestations ceased. He returned her embrace.

“It’s okay,” she told him as tears began to stream down his face. “It’s never too late to get help.”

Power Cat watched on, a look of shock on his face. “You mean we’re not gonna fight? I wanted to fight!”

“Kids!” the unexpected voice rang out. “Get your toys! Tine to go to dinner!”

“Okay!” Chimed the three voices as that gathered up their plastic heroes and scampered our of the sandbox.

None of them took notice of the young man sitting at the nearby bench, nor did the see the tears that covered his own face.

He had come to the park that day because it was the last place he remembered being happy. It had been so long ago that he couldn’t remember what it felt like.

He wanted to come back to the park and see the ghosts of his past. And because he knew that near the park was a bridge high enough to let him out an end to things.

It had been the only solution that made sense any more.

Then the children had come and started playing. He would wait until they left. He didn’t want them to see what was about to happen.

Now he say and let his tears fall.

“It’s never too late to get help,” he whispered to himself. He took out his cell phone and with a quick search found himself at the webpage he had stared at many times before, but never believed he would use until now.

He pressed the highlighted phone number and confirmed he wanted the number dialed.

The call was answered on the second ring. His heart was pounding so hard he barely took notice of what the voice said, he just knew that someone was there. There for him.

“Hello,” he said, his voice thick and garbled. “I need to talk with someone. I need help.”

**I would like to encourage the use of hotlines for those with depression and especially those with suicidal thoughts. Since I live in the Tokyo area, here is a link to the Tokyo English Life Line.**

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