The Three Kings

Prologue: Ordinary People

“Heroes are ordinary people who make themselves extraordinary.” -Gerard Way

♛

The night howled with strong gusts of wind, threatening to knock over trees that had been standing strong for decades. Despite the weather, a boy no older than thirteen took cover behind a hedge as another burst of wind shook the branches above him. He untied a sweatshirt from around his waist so that it wouldn’t drag in the dirt, then got down on one knee.

He scolded himself for not bringing a sweatshirt for himself—it was eight o'clock at night, the sun had set, and the weatherman had predicted heavy winds. The boy reached up and adjusted a red beanie that covered his jet black hair. At least I came somewhat prepared, he thought to himself with a shiver. He wanted to leave, go home and bundle up near the fire, but he couldn’t. Every single muscle in his body fought to stay exactly where he was and suck it up.

The young teen kept his gaze trained on a house across the street from his hiding spot, ready to jump at any sound of distress. In his right hand was a handful of marble-sized rocks, and he had one the size of a softball in his left hand.

From the outside, the house looked like it belonged in a fairytale, and quite frankly so did the inside. But those were just the physical aspects of the house.

The kid’s body tensed as he heard the sound of metal clattering to the floor, followed by yelling that echoed out into the street.

“How in the bloody hell do you burn pizza! You’re twelve goddamn years old!” The boy’s eyes widened at the amount of rage in the man’s voice.

He got to his feet and started to creep out from behind the shrubs. A shiver ran down his spine as the scream of a young girl pierced the calm silence that had previously been settled across the neighborhood.

He felt a sense of urgency as the girl began to cry and say, “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” As the boy ran towards the house, his fingers curled around the smaller set of rocks. He lifted his arm into the air and flung them against a large window as soon as he got close enough to the house. When he heard them tinkle against the glass, an expression of anger formed on his face as he threw the larger rock into the window as hard as he could. Glass rained to the ground as it shattered into millions of pieces.

The boy grinned as adrenaline began to pump through his veins, but he made a mad dash for his hiding spot as he heard the man swear in frustration. As soon as he slid behind the bushes, the front door was thrown open, and a man stormed out into the yard. He was a giant—taller than he’d been expecting—and looked extremely intimidating. A snarl covered the gentleman’s features, twisting them in an ugly way. He was dressed in a suit, reminding the boy of the outfit his father wore to work.

He was a real life Jekyll and Hyde. A monster.

“Where the hell are you, you little punk!” He roared into the empty street, desperately looking for someone to punish for the broken window. The man turned and stormed back inside the house, but as soon as his boot had landed on the front porch, the back gate had creaked open.

Then the lad saw her. His chest went numb as he forgot how to breathe, anger and grief knotting his stomach as a young girl limped out from behind the wooden gate, and closed it as quietly as she could.

She flinched as something crashed from within the house and started to walk faster.

The boy panicked and darted out from the bushes, gently grabbing the girl from behind, and covering her mouth with his hand.

“Sh, sh. It’s okay, it’s me. It’s okay, you’re safe.” He whispered in her ear softly while moving her ginger hair from her face. Her fearful cries began to calm as she turned her head to the side at the familiar voice.

She recognized the oval shape of the boy’s face and the way his jaw narrowed into his chin.

“Quentin? What are you doing here?” The girl whispered firmly, but fear shone in her silver and brown eyes.

“Let’s worry about that later,” he paused and they both jumped as the front door slammed open, but they felt a shred of relief when they realized they were still hidden in the shadows of a tree cluster. “Let’s go.”

Quentin handed the sweatshirt to Scarlette and helped her put it on, then knelt down again so the she could climb on his back. The small smile on her face let him know that she was grateful for the gesture, considering she’d only been in a tank top and sweats, he was glad he’d brought it for her.

Once she was on his back in piggyback fashion, he stood up and walked briskly along the shadows until he got to his original hiding spot. Further down it had direct access to an intersection, and that’s where they headed.

“Where are we going?” Scarlette asked softly as Quentin carried her through the bushes.

“To my house,” Quentin felt her stiffen against his back and he shook his head, some of his black hair falling into his eyes. “Don’t worry, it’s just Cody and I.”

Silence fell over the two for a few moments before the girl spoke up quietly, almost as if she were ashamed. “How did you know?”

“Educated guess,” Quentin was silent for a few beats, then held onto Scarlette a little tighter.

“I kept noticing things and started to get worried. So, I did some research and compared it to what I’d observed. You’d be gone from school for a few days even though you almost never get sick. Then there was one time the make up on your arm washed off in art class.” He explained and Scarlette sighed softly before kissing the top of Quentin’s head.

“Thank you for paying attention to me.” It was an odd thing to say, she knew that, but he understood. He always did.

"Thank you for noticing the things I hide, the things other people don’t notice. Thank you for completely knowing me."