A Boy named Wukong

"Didn't I tell you?"

"Oh please, don't act like you predicted that."

"I did, yer bastard. I told you Claire Vanheart would become an Inheritor."

"I don't ever remember you saying that."

In a fairly sized and messy police precinct, two officers, one considerably larger than the other, argued as they stared at a small TV screen.

"Wait till O'Neil returns, he'll back me up." The larger boned officer retorted, grabbing a pastry from a box on the same table the TV sat.

"Yeah right. The same O'Neil who left with the Captain and everyone else while we got to watch the coronation?" 

The skinnier officer pointed out, causing the other to pause for a second.

"You're right. They're all salty. Let's enjoy this while we can." 

The two officers heartily chuckled as they looked back to the screen. 

But as their laughter halted, a cheeky voice entered their ears.

"Well, that isn't very nice. He could die out there. Everyone's out on a bank robbery call, aren't they? I hear those are no joke." 

As the two officers looked back, they witnessed a boy no older than 16 inside one of the cells; his arms slipped through the crevices of the bars as he leaned on the metal.

He had unkempt messy black hair that covered his forehead and parts of his ears. 

The darkness of his hair allowed for his hazel eyes to be more visible.

Wearing black jeans and a black hoodie with the zipper undone, his overall appearance and the tone he spoke in indicated an overall rebellious nature.

And because of this, the large officer's eye twitched as he snapped.

"Shut yer trap, crook!" He grumbled, the large grin on the boy's face annoying him all the more.

As the two officers looked back to the TV screen, the boy simply shrugged as he stuck his hand in his pocket, pulling out a see-through plastic bag filled with Cheerios. 

He, too, was paying attention to the news anchor.

"It's that time of the year once again, folks. January 1st, the coronation for the newest batch of Inheritors." 

The female news reporter spoke, the officers chewing quietly to catch every word.

"As suspected, the firstborn Vanheart Daughter, Claire Vanheart, has awakened, though no information has been revealed on who her Legend may be or her Pantheon." 

The larger-boned officer put on a proud grin as the other officer rolled his eyes.

"On the other hand, reports show heavy and peculiar lightning striking the Igor estate. Seeing as the second daughter of the Igor family has been confirmed to be an Inheritor, could this be a hint as to who her character maybe?"

"Oh, even the Igor girl?" One of the officers raised his eyebrow in surprise.

"And she hasn't even mentioned 'that' kid."

Both officers nodded in agreement.

Meanwhile, the boy behind them stared with lazy eyes, failing to show the same level of enthusiasm as he tossed a few more cheerios in his mouth, crunching.

"Can you believe this crap? Famous for just existing, I wish I had that problem." 

The boy joked as a voice from the cell beside him entered his ears soon after.

"You shouldn't speak of Inheritors like that, especially those kids. Some people wouldn't like that." 

A scrawny man wearing a suit with a loosened tie and untucked shirt, indicating the fact he'd been through a lot, pressed against the bars as he spoke.

"That isn't the reply I'd expect from a fellow convict." The boy teased, knowing the reaction that was coming.

"I am not a convict nor are we anything alike! I don't know how that unlicensed firearm appeared in my briefcase."

"I'm a doctor with a wife and two children. I served in the air force for this country, for god's sake." 

The scrawny man whimpered as the large officer turned his head back due to the commotion, turning back soon after.

"Geez, I was only messing with you. You sure get clumsy when your heart starts beating. Here, have some." 

The scrawny man raised an eyebrow as he watched a bag of Cheerios wave in front of him.

"What? How did you get that in here?" The man asked.

"There's always a way with Cheerios." 

The boy commented, pulling back the bag and returning his hand with green cheerios.

"You can have the green ones. They kind of annoy me."

"I mean, green means apple. Why would they make it lime?" 

The scrawny man instinctively put his hand out, confused. 

He had no intention of eating it, but he didn't have it in him to reject it, simply looking back at the TV screen, as did the boy.

"If you ask me, the candidates for the next generation of The Pentagon are clear as day."

"It's to be expected of a Vanheart and Igor, but there's more we haven't seen, people. We can only wonder what other prodigies are out there." 

'What other prodigies, huh?' 

Inheritors. 

With the year being 2025, today was their 40th anniversary.

40 years ago, the first generation of Inheritors appeared.

A miracle of God.

This was how they were described as they presented skills and abilities thought to be impossible.

Not only that, but they were presenting skills and abilities that seemed familiar.

Blue lightning. Witchcraft. Some even possessed items that appeared out of thin air with remarkable abilities.

What was once thought to be Legend and Myth had found its way to reality.

In a matter of hours, the world was flipped upside down.

However, only two days later, every single kid collapsed, entering a deep coma that no modern technology could bring them out of.

No medical professional had even a clue on what this was. 

They had started their "Research" to answer everyone's questions.

But in a matter of weeks, before they could reach anywhere, the kids…no, it wouldn't be right to call them that.

Monsters.

Horrors from legend birthed from the carcasses of the children, each wreaking a different havoc on earth.

Nothing the humans tried worked. 

Modern weapons had close to no effect on the Horrors and as the days passed, more and more appeared from what was once the body of the children.

But not all of them.

Not all of the children turned.

No, some started to awaken, stronger and smarter than before. 

If before they were a miracle, they'd now evolved to the likes of deities.

They'd become the reincarnation of legends.

Merlin the Magician.

Zeus, God of the Sky.

Amaterasu, goddess of the Sun.

Myths no more. The kids had Inherited power and the legacies of fantasy.

This was when everything changed. 

This was what humanity needed to survive. To which they did.

The kids had vanquished the evil from the world, giving a new name to the Inheritors.

The boy in the cell knew first impressions were important and with this act, the Inheritors gave themselves a new name.

The saviours born from light.

Soon after, the I.A. (Inheritor Association) was born, recruiting as many Inheritors as possible.

'But not me.'

The boy stared with a blank expression, watching the figures appear on the TV screen.

The boy was 15, turning 16 this year. He was old enough to become an Inheritor.

And though he never pondered on these things much in the past, his eyes couldn't help but drift and stay glued to the clock at midnight.

There was a part of him…that expected something…that hoped for something.

But almost 24 hours later, nothing.

'Nope…I wasn't one chosen by the light. Rather left to rot in the darkness like the rat society believes me to be.'

"I'll be back." 

Just as he thought this, the smaller officer rose to his feet, tightening his belt as he headed for the exit.

"Off to commune with the missus?" The large officer teased, causing the smaller officer to smirk pervertedly, walking away without replying.

As he did, the boy's eyes slightly veered to the clock on the wall, his lips curling upwards shortly after as the officer left the building.

"Don't worry, man." 

The boy caught the attention of the scrawny man in the cell beside him.

"Worst case scenario, you'll spend the rest of your life in prison and your daughters will hate you when you get out." 

"You'll just be losing everything important in your life, nothing much. Well, that's if you survive inside there in the first place." 

The scrawny man stared with a starstruck expression as the boy continued to ramble on.

His heartbeat quickened and his hands sweat all the more. 

He started to fiddle with his fingers until he grabbed a cheerio in his hand, mindlessly eating one as his anxiety grew.

The boy suddenly yelled, grabbing the attention of the officer as he pointed to the scrawny man in the cell beside him.

The scrawny man could feel his heart drop as he slowly looked down at the green cheerios in his hand, then to the large officer who stood to his feet, walking toward them.

"What? How many times have I told you to keep it down?" The officer drew closer, glaring at the boy as the words he'd just said ran through his mind.

However, before he could reach them, the scrawny man, in an act of desperation, stuffed all the Cheerios into his mouth, swallowing without even chewing as he tried to put on his bravest face.

"What are you doing in there?" The officer stood before the scrawny man's cell with eyes that suddenly erupted in suspicion.

"N-Nothing officer. I'm simply waiting for my lawyer." The scrawny man stuttered, causing the officer to look around the cell, finding nothing as he glared at the prisoner, soon walking to the side as his eyes met with the boys.

"I suggest you keep it down till you're transported to Bellerive." The officer spoke in an almost proud manner, a result of his dislike for the boy.

"Juvie? Haven't you read my report?" The boy asked, to which the officer grinned.

"I have. To my knowledge, you've escaped every juvenile detention centre you were admitted into for a string of petty theft. Yet we were still able to catch you amidst a poorly attempted robbery. If I had to make a guess, I'd say you'll spend the rest of your days in juvie, then be transported to the closest prison once you're of age." The officer's grin grew more and more devious the more he spoke.

But to the officer's surprise, no matter how much he tried to force a reaction out of the boy, the latter kept his mischievous grin plastered on his face, quiet as if he were enjoying a joke only he understood.

"Wanna bet?" 

"But hey, that's if you are convicted. You might make it out of here in one piece but…"

-THUD

As the boy rambled on, a loud THUD cut him off, causing him to smile as he stuffed the plastic bag back into his pocket.

"Hey, pig…I mean, Mr Officer, I think there's something wrong with this guy." 

As the boy spoke, the officer clicked his teeth as he turned, rising to his feet.

"How many times have I told you to keep it down?" The officer asked, his intense glare never averting from the boy.

"Didn't you hear me? There's something wrong…"

"Just stay quiet till you're transported to Bellerive." The officer sniggered.

"Juvie? Have I not told you?" 

"Yes, you've made it quite clear that you've supposedly escaped juvie multiple times, but your records show nothing of the sort…" 

"KRHM!!!"

The officer snapped his head to the side like an intrigued cat as an uncomfortable sound entered his ear.

The boy stayed quiet as he watched the officer naturally poke his head to catch a glimpse at the neighbouring cell.

"What the hell…"

The officer let out, seeing the scrawny man convulsing on the ground, foaming from the mouth.

"That's unfortunate. Good thing he's in a police precinct. According to law, you're forced to give him medical attention if he needs it." 

The boy commented from the side, causing the officer to snap out of his trance and dart his eyes between the two prisoners in surprise.

"Damnit!" The officer yelled as he yanked the keys from his waist, their jingle drowned out by his heavy breaths.

The boy watched the officer swing open the door and leap inside the cell. 

As he did, the boy walked back, away from the cell as his smile faltered slightly.

Turning around, he stuck his fingers deep inside his mouth as he started to retch, saliva dripping down his face and to the ground.

It wasn't long until he hurled out his dinner, trying his best to stay quiet.

But most notably, two short metals lay in the vomit with distinct carvings. 

Meanwhile, the officer kneeled over the scrawny man, his eyes racing over the former's body, looking for anything that might indicate what was wrong with him. 

As his hand grabbed the walkie-talkie on his shoulder, his lips moved closer to it as he began to speak. 

However before he could, the scrawny man's body suddenly calmed, the violent seizing halting as his eyes closed.

The officer paused, assuming the worst as he pressed his forefingers against the scrawny man's neck, only to be disproven shortly after as he felt a pulse.

"Don't worry, he isn't dead." The officer flinched as he heard a familiar voice towering above him and casting a shadow.

The officer wasted no time, shooting his head back, his hand racing to the firearm on his side.

-BANG

But before he could even lay eyes on the figure behind him, a loud BANG rang out as the officer shot the ground, his head dripping with blood as his consciousness faded.

His vision was blurred and the sound entering his ears was muffled. 

He didn't know how much time had passed before his senses returned to normal.

But as it did, he looked back, seeing the boy outside the cell, the door closed, grinning as usual as he held the scrawny man by the collar, the officer's gun and keys in the other.

"How the tables have turned." The boy mocked, soon waving as he trodden away while dragging the still unconscious scrawny man.

The officer watched this, soon darting toward the metal bars and pressing his face against it, trying to locate the two, but was unsuccessful.

Looking around, he looked for anything that could help him, his heart leaping in relief as his hand traced over the walkie-talkie on his shoulder.

"10-27, the bank is all clear. It was a false alarm, over." 

"Copy. All units, 10-19, return to station…"

"11-99! Officer in distress! I need backup at the station!"

The officer cut off those on the other side, yelling as he looked as if he was about to boil over, which he did.

"Daniel, stop banging the desk sergeant and get back here!"

"I'm right here." 

The smaller officer stepped back into the precinct in a hurry, hearing the radio call, only to be met with his partner inside a cell.

"What happened?!"

The smaller officer sprinted to the large man, fiddling with his keys and soon swinging open the cell as the large officer trodden out, still dizzy from being hit on the head.

"Where are they?" He yelled, looking around with furious eyes.

However, as the smaller officer searched for the right words to reveal how he didn't have a clue without further enraging his partner, both their eyes fell on the small door to the side wide open. 

At first glance, it didn't seem like the door was important at all, as a simple staircase that led upwards lay behind it.

However, it was what the staircase led to that had the officers so worried.

-SHAP SHAP SHAP

In the next second, their worst nightmare came to fruition as loud and heavy claps were heard.

Like katanas being sliced through the air countless times in a single second, only getting faster the time that passed.

"No…The Helicopter."

***

"Here it is, Captain Spencer. The communication device linked to the chopper."

In the same precinct, the aura was far different as countless officers now crowded it. 

In the bustling space, a man with slick-back blonde hair and brown eyes could be seen standing amongst all the officers, reaching out his hand to grab the walkie-talkie the officer handed him.

He exuded an aura that depicted an authoritative yet approachable character fit to be a leader.

"I'll be back for the two of you later. Take that time to make a convincing story as to how a 15-year-old boy was able to slip past you both, take your weapon and steal the chopper."

Spencer spoke in a tone filled with disappointment and, most prominently, annoyance, staring at the large and small officers.

Turning his head away, Spencer put the device closer to his lips, pausing for a second before speaking.

"This is Captain Spencer of the GCPD. Is anybody there?" 

Silence prevailed as everyone waited for a response. 

"Hey, what's up?"

A familiar voice spoke from the other side of the device. 

Hearing this, Spencer felt a sense of relief. 

Gaining the ability to speak with the perpetrator was the first step to a negotiation.

"Kid, what's your goal? You're operating a chopper in the middle of the city."

"You won't be able to go anywhere where we won't find you. We will be there waiting when you land." 

Spencer moved the walkie-talkie away from his lips as he waited for the boy on the other side to reply.

"Yeah, I know. That's why I won't be landing."

"I'll probably try a few loops before going in for a nose dive and calling it a night."

The officers and Spencer paused upon hearing this, some lowering their heads.

"I see." Spencer kept his composure, replying as he thought carefully for his next words.

"Wait, he doesn't mean…"

One officer blurted out, causing Spencer to nod while staring at the walkie-talkie.

"He's planning to kill himself."