Short, and bittersweet… A story of romance and regret…
Take what you will from it.
I stand over a grave, weeping tears of regret and anger. The saltiness of my tears sting my eyes, but I welcome the pain.
See, I am standing by the graveside of my best friend in the whole world.
He died, fighting to save me. To save us all.
To save the world.
He didn't care about what would happen to him; all he wanted was to see mankind safe and sound, when they got to the end of the tunnel and they found out just what the hell was making such a bright light.
And that, I think, is what got him killed.
See, he had a hero complex, one that he developed after he took on Agent Carver in that battle in the tower. And so, when he saw a young girl getting harassed by someone obviously older, stronger, and hornier than she was, he couldn't help but get involved.
What he didn't know, though, was that he was a Pusher.
And so, with his ignorance not even in his mind, he rushed the girl's attacker. Fists flew, and he began to use his Mover powers to amplify his attacks.
Still, his opponent stayed one step ahead of it all.
Soon, he had to stop for a moment to re-gather his energy, and it was at that moment that his attacker chose to strike. A blackening of the eyes, and it was over.
He went to Move again, except this time, the object that he moved was a razor blade, one of standard size and certainly one that could not be seen by the naked eye. Especially when it was being flung at him (by himself) at near a hundred miles per hour, straight towards his head.
A moment later, it was all over: A thin line of blood appeared at both the entrance and exit wounds, as the pressure on his head seeped out into the atmosphere. Then, he fell over. Dead.
The man who had attacked him, escaped without attracting attention.
Of course, the psychic abilities that he had used in the fight would leave no physical evidence that they had ever been used, so there was no way for everything to get traced back to him, the Pusher.
Now, you're probably wondering how in the world I know all this. It's simple.
I was there.
It sounds so callous, I know, but I was there, and I didn't do anything to stop what was happening. I didn't want to get hurt in the process.
Now, in my defense (if you could call it that), I didn't know what this bastard was capable of, so I didn't want to get myself too involved in the whole thing.
Thing is, though, I should have been able to Watch it before it happened, and seen what was going to happen to him. But I didn't. I had no idea.
Please, don't take that as to mean that I didn't love him. Because I did. I still do. And I will always love him.
So, as I stand here over his grave today, I want you to know something. It is simple, but profound: When you get the chance to act, do it. No matter what you think the costs will be.
I didn't. And my best friend paid the ultimate price.
But worse than that, I never got to say the words that I had always wanted to say. So, I guess I can say them now. And maybe- just maybe- he can hear them.
If you're listening, Nick… I love you.
Just say the words…