The Adventure of Hybris

“I could tell he was a strange guy by what he bought,” The cashier told the news reporter. “I mean, he bought the most random stuff.”

“Like what?” The reporter persisted, waving the microphone from in front of his own face back to the cashier.

“Uhh, I dunno, fabric, goggles, boots, gloves. You know, costume stuff.”
“Was that all he purchased from you?”

“No, he bought some mountain climbing stuff. At the time I thought he was getting ready for a comic convention or something. I would never have guessed…”

It was early. He was one of the only people in Supermart, which was what he was hoping for. He walked the aisles casually, plucking items off and throwing them in his cart. With the addition of every item, he would make a check on the list he held in his hand, a hand that was shaking slightly. At this point, the cart was filled with gloves, boots, a grappling hook, a coil of rope, and large, dark goggles.

The cart took a turn down an aisle stacked with different colored fabrics. He grabbed a needle and thread before turning to ponder which colors he wanted. He flipped the shopping list over to reveal a highly detailed diagram of a costume. His head went back and forth between fabric display and the diagram several times before he made up his mind. Trying to be nonchalant, he grabbed a couple yards of navy blue, grey, and black, and then rushed out of the aisle apparently worried someone would see him.

The cart pulled up to a cashier. Only three of the ten registers were open at this hour. He tried to pick the cashier who looked like he would ask the fewest questions. He picked accurately. The boy behind the register wore an expression that told everyone how much he did not want to be anywhere besides bed at this hour. Sloppily, he dragged the various items across the scanner. Curiosity flickered momentarily in his eye, but the boy did not care enough to strike up conversation and so the spark died.

“Paper or plastic?” It sounded like mustering up the energy to speak these words was painful for the cashier.

“Uh… paper. Yeah paper.” He stammered. He really didn’t care what kind of material the bags were made out of; he just wanted to get out of there. He began thinking the whole idea was a poor one. But he had already come this far, why stop now? The most exposed part was almost over. It would be a road to glory from this point on.

When the bags were finally ready (he ended up helping the cashier, who wasn’t very fast) he quickly paid and hurried out the door. The carriage mumbled as the tires skipped along the asphalt. He felt like he could not push it fast enough even though his items were safely hidden behind the paper bags.

Several seconds were lost when he fumbled awkwardly for his keys. He popped the trunk, and felt relief only after it was locked with his purchases safely inside. He hadn’t realized he had been holding his breath until he exhaled on his way to the driver’s side door.

His excitement grew during the drive home, now that the worst part was over. He almost forgot to take off his seatbelt he was so eager to get inside. He juggled the bags through the front door as he entered the apartment. Carelessly, he cleared the table with an elbow. The cheap basket that served as a centerpiece and his bottle of medication found a new home on the floor. Like a child at Christmas, he tore open the bags and laid the contents out neatly on the kitchen table. He then pulled the diagram out of his pocket and laid it on the table as well. He admired his work for a moment before fumbling through his drawers for scissors, a pencil, and a ruler.

He hefted a sewing machine from off the counter and placed it on the table next to the other materials. It was his mother’s sewing machine, but she never used it anymore. She used to make him costumes of his favorite comic book heroes, but as he got older, she thought it would be in his best interest to stop the habit. He ended up taking it when he moved out, habits are hard to break.

The next several hours passed quickly due to intense concentration. He drew, cut, and sewed. The only sound in the apartment was the whirr of the sewing machine; his mind was completely on his task. He didn’t even stop to eat. When it was complete, he admired his work: a blue and grey jumpsuit looking article of clothing. A smile stretched across his face. It was ready, finally. And he was ready too.

“He was… depressed.” His mother told the new reporter. It was clear she was using all of her will to keep herself from bursting out into tears.

“How so?” The reporter questioned, showing no concern for the woman’s fragile emotional state.

“Well, he’s always been depressed. He constantly complained about his purpose and how he wants to be important. After his girlfriend left him though, he got much worse. Worse than I’ve ever seen him. I tried to be there for him, but he became so distant.” The frail woman clutched at her collar bone in agony. “I guess… this was his way of making a purpose for himself.”

He stood in the mirror, looking at himself in his blue-grey suit. Large goggles were concealing his features, and a grappling hook was slung around his shoulder. It was strange to say that this was the happiest moment in the young man’s life. His heart was racing with anticipation.

He exited the bathroom and bounced down his hallway to his living room. He stopped at the window, and looked out at zigzag line the tops of building formed stretching across the horizon. A flock of birds flew overhead in a neat V formation. Every member had its place. The scene looked so peaceful. Wearing his suit, he felt like he owned the city. He was about to become well known, well liked, and obtain a purpose (and a damn important purpose it would be). For the first time in his life he would not feel out of place or lost in a world of tangled paths. Paths he felt all went the wrong direction for him. But he was forging his own now, and it finally felt right. It was the dawning of a new era for the city and his life. Things would go up from here.

He stood for several minutes, imagining future glory. But he then remembered he had forgotten the finishing touch to his suit. He went back down the hallway and turned left into his room. It looked like it belonged to a twelve year old. Superhero posters covered the walls and there were bookshelves of comics. It was clear to see what his childhood, and apparently current, obsession was.

There was a dresser against the far wall that he strode to. He removed from the top drawer a cloth circle with an intricate ‘H’ drawn on it. He had made it weeks ago, before he was positive he was going to do this. Back then, this idea was only a thought. For his name, he had chosen the Greek Hybris. He liked Greek Mythology. The characters were always so strong and noble. Traits he wished he possessed. In daydreams (which he had often) he always thought of his name as Hybris. It just seemed to fit the alternate persona he took on in his head. People called the name out smiling and cheered at his presence. He was a hero in his daydreams.

Back in the kitchen he sewed the circle onto the chest of his suit using a needle and thread. In and out the thread traveled merging the name and the person as a single entity. When it was complete, he felt baptized in a way, reborn as a different person. With his rebirth, he had new goals, new ideals, and new confidence. The old him was gone while he wore this suit. The depression could not touch him now.

“Did you have any clue he was capable of this?” The reporter invaded his mother’s personal space once again with the microphone.

“N-no…” She stammered, “Of course not! I mean, he enjoyed superheroes when he was little. But I’d never guess he’d take it so far.”

“He never talked about it? Hinted at it?”

“No, not that I remember.” She was barely whispering now. “He stopped taking his depression medicine though.”

“Do you know why he would do such a thing?”

“No,” She said again, “It doesn’t make sense to me. It just doesn’t make any sense.”

It was night now and Hybris stood apprehensively at the door. He had removed his suit and was carrying it in a duffel bag. The apprehension was not caused by doubt or second thoughts; instead Hybris was taking in the last moments of his old life. It was strange, even when you are ready to give up on the past and move on, it’s still sad, no matter how much you are looking forward to the future. But it was time now.

Hybris turned the doorknob and made his way to the stairs and finally out the lobby door. He was shaking a little as he turned down a deserted alleyway. Once he was changed into his suit, he felt the confidence return and his shaking subsided. There was a gap between a dumpster and the wall that was perfect for storing his duffel bag of clothing in. Hybris felt like this was the start of a ritual. He would be doing this frequently, changing in the alley and storing his bag in this same spot night after night.

The grappling hook worked nicely. He hoisted himself the few feet up to the fire escape and climbed up the stairs to the building’s roof. He reached the top panting, but excited. After catching his breath, Hybris prepared himself to travel to the next building that was a floor higher than the one he was on He threw the hook to try to catch the edge of the other building, but missed the first time. It clinked off the brick ineffectively. A pang of disappointment resounded in his gut. He told himself he would get better with time and refocused himself on his task. The second attempt was successful. Keeping the rope taunt, Hybris cautiously stepped to the edge of the building he was currently on. He could hear his heart beating in his ears, but his sense of purpose forced him to press on. He told himself not to look down, but his feet were tingling anyway.

The acquired momentum was more than Hybris had predicted. He flew with great speed into the wall of the building. His left side felt bruised, but it was not enough to break his spirit. Grunting, he began hoisting himself up the couple feet to the top. The whole climb was awkward and uncoordinated. Sweat glistened on his forehead now, and he needed a longer rest on the top of this building. But he was proud for coming this far.

It was decided that this building would make a good lookout spot. Hybris did not want to tire himself out by climbing. ‘He would need his energy for later’ was his justification. Besides, with practice he would be able to travel faster. He would have a specific route he would take every night on his anti-crime prowl. The picture of future perfection pleased him. ‘in his mind’s eye, he saw himself nimbly scaling the tallest of walls

Hybris’s eyes began scanning the streets below, but there were no suspicious looking persons. He persisted.

“So,” The reporter had shifted his interview to Hybris’s father, “what are your thoughts on the situation?”

“It’s crazy!” His father fumed, his face was red.

“Any other comments?” The microphone returned to the angry man.
“I- I just can’t believe,” His voice quieted, “I mean, how does this happen? Who does something like this?”

“Could you describe the relationship between you and your son?” The reporter was not afraid to ask the painful questions. It made the newscast more interesting.

“I wish we were closer,” His voice remained quiet, “I mean, we didn’t have much in common. He was into his superheroes and I never bothered to get interested. I always thought the whole idea was too childish.” He sighed heavily.

Hours passed, and Hybris remained on top of the building in the cool night air. The multitudes of people below thinned out over time until the streets were empty except for the occasional late night driver. His teeth chattered, but he fought the uncomfortable conditions with his willpower. He kept telling himself it would pay off. The idea of no one suspicious coming never crossed his mind. When one pours their whole heart into a cause, they tend to plan only for success.

If Hybris had been a dog, his ears would have perked up at this moment. Below, he saw a man in dark, baggy clothing was walking very quickly down the street, hands in his pockets. Maybe it was a kind of sixth sense, or a desperate hope that the night would not be in vain, but Hybris felt as if he should follow this man. He scrambled down the fire escape stairs and dropped the final feet from the ladder. Breathing heavily, he poked his head out of the alley he had landed in. The man was taking a corner across the street. Quickly, Hybris sprinted across the road.

He trailed the man for several blocks before he took a sudden turn into an alleyway. Hybris peeked after him to see him meeting with two other men. It looked suspicious, but he would wait for proof of a crime before acting.

Hybris watched and fidgeted with anticipation. The man he had followed pulled a large bundled of cash from his pocket as one of the other two men pulled a bag out of his own pocket. Was it fate that Hybris chose to follow this man?

It was drugs. Perfect.

Hybris began creeping closer, his heart beating in his ears. This was it, his first crackdown on crime, the big moment to define the start of his career. Carefully he made his way along the side of the alley and came to rest behind a garbage can. He would use the element of surprise. Slowly, he unraveled the grappling hook. He held it tightly in his right hand, poised to throw. He gulped, and then began a countdown.

Three.

He saw the men pocket their acquired loot.

Two.

He heard them exchanged words.

One.

He felt his muscles tense as they readied themselves for his brain to give the command.

Hybris leapt from behind the garbage can wielding the grappling hook. He swung it in an arc, striking one of the men in the back of the head, knocking him to the ground. The other two men were in shock, giving Hybris enough time to swing the hook once more at the man closest to him.

But this man saw it coming; he feinted to the side and charged at Hybris, catching him in the mouth with a fist. Hybris tasted blood, but he told himself to ignore it. Raising his fists, he attempted to fight back. He struck out a few times, but none of the strikes connected. The man retaliated, hitting him once in the stomach and another time again in the face. Confidence turned into franticness.

Hybris had hoped his first night would go easier as he got the hang of things, but it appeared the night was not going to go the way he had planned. He stumbled back, disorientated by pain. He was trying to tell himself this was only a major drawback, that everything was still going to work out the way he had dreamed.

The man struck him again in the ear. Hybris lost all sense of direction as he tumbled to the ground, head ringing.

“What’re ya tryin’ freak?!” The man said as he began kicking Hybris in the ribs. Hybris wasn’t positive, but he thought he could hear them cracking. Every second was a new explosion of pain in his side. The man didn’t let up.

Suddenly, Hybris felt something cold and metal press against his forehead. The other man had pulled out a gun evidently, and now had it trained firmly in-between Hybris’s eyes. Hybris, half conscious, tried to move away. Instead, he looked like a fish flopping on the pavement; he was too horrified to respond rationally. His body did nothing but thrash weakly in vain. Even though he had on suit, his confidence was ebbing away. It was replaced by a feeling of extreme mortality. It was going to end before it began. His dreams of the future would always remain just that, dreams. Hybris closed his eyes, replaying those dreams in his head. He smiled for the last time. There was a loud bang, then nothing.

When the interview was finished, the news anchors appeared on the screen.
“The costumed man was found dead in the alley, beaten and with a fatal gunshot wound to the head.” Explained the female anchor.

“What a strange tragedy.” The male anchor commented emptily.

“Witnesses say that they saw the man atop a building not far from where the incident occurred.” The female anchor read from the report on the table. “Though it is suspected he did not know the person who killed him.”

A picture of Hybris from after the incident appeared in a square behind the anchors. It was a low quality picture, as to hide some of the gore. But you could see the basic details of his suit. It was pathetic looking.

“What a strange tragedy.” The male anchor repeated.

“Police continue to look for the murderer, but so far they have no leads.” The female anchor then changed her tone of voice to a more whimsical octave, “Coming up, hear the miracle of how a cat survived for two days trapped in a hole.”

A cat replaced the picture of Hybris. It was the first, and last time anyone ever heard of him.