Nothing Special - Mini Special
"...It’s a nice breeze today," Javelin remarked offhandedly as the wind tousled his hair. He sat cross-legged on the edge of a bridge, hands in his pockets. He was sorta just whistling there.
Pedestrians passed by, some glancing at him with curious or uneasy looks, probably wondering what he was up to. But for anyone who knew him, they wouldn't bat an eye at it.
He's just doing his normal hero thing. He got word that there was gonna be a terrorist attack on a train. Well, more like they just got the information now, and Javelin got the info through the police walkie he stole a while ago.
The cops were probably gonna contact the train to stop... But that would take too long, so Javelin decided to butt his head in.
Without a word, he stepped over the railing—an action that immediately caused alarm among some onlookers.
But Javelin’s attention was fixed on something else. There it was—a high-speed bullet train rushing toward the bridge. With a lazy stretch, he leapt down, landing on its roof. Screams erupted from the bridge above, but he didn’t so much as glance back.
He landed perfectly fine as well; the speed or wind didn't seem to affect him.
Honesty, it's a pretty nice breeze... He said with a faint smile.
Then. He made his way toward the end of the train, each step steady despite the rushing wind. Once there, he drove his foot through the roof with a single kick, metal groaning under the force. Dropping down into the cargo hold, he landed silently.
Reaching into a pocket, he pulled out the walkie. Apparently, they were discussing the description, which involved a man with a really long beard and an 'X' shape scar on his forehead.
“Alrighty then…” He cracked his neck.
He strolled through the train car, whistling and waving at the passengers.
“Hello, how ya doing? Just passing by,” the boy said with a cheerful smile.
As he squeezed past the crowd, moving from car to car, he eventually reached one that was nearly empty—save for a certain man. Sitting beside him, the boy sipped from a juice box an old lady had given him along the way.
“How are you?” the boy asked.
The man said nothing, turning his head away while grumbling.
The boy persisted. “That’s a pretty cool scar you’ve got there. Wonder where you got it from, maybe a cool fight or something!”
“...” The man’s irritation was starting to show; his foot tapped against the floor, and he kept glancing at his watch.
Regardless, Javelin kept talking in his usual casual tone. “Man, it’s a nice day. The birds are singing, the flowers are blooming… It’d be a shame if someone were to, y’know… hijack the train and ruin it for others.”
Those words were enough to finally make the man take notice of the boy who so nonchalantly spoke about what he had been doing. Javelin leaned back in his seat, as if he hadn’t said anything at all.
And just like that, the man no longer looked so indifferent to the kid. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled a gun and pressed it to the boy’s head, suspecting him to be a spy or something. Javelin, however, didn’t so much as flinch.
Before he could finish, the boy took a loud sip from his drink, then smacked his lips with a satisfied grin.
“That was good. Weird aftertaste.”
“Probably grape flavor,” Javelin interrupted again.
The man’s expression twisted with irritation. Then, spotting the police walkie clipped to the kid’s pocket, he stopped caring about whether it was a child or not. Without another word, he pulled the trigger.
BANG!
The gunshots echoed through the empty car, ricocheting off the metal walls… The boy’s body slumped forward.
“…Stupid brat…” the man muttered, standing up and pulling out a remote control. But—
A small piece of metal hit the floor. The kid was... standing up?! And to the man's surprise, Javelin scratched at the side of his head where he was shot...
All there was was a slightly red bruise, like some average insect bite.
“For your information, I am not a fan of getting shot,” Javelin said flatly while approaching.
“How did you—” Before the man could finish, he tried to raise his gun again—only to realize he was grasping at nothing by air. "?!"
It was in the boy’s hand now. Javelin raised an eyebrow and crushed the weapon into tiny fragments as easily as popping a grape.
The man froze... Then, furrowed his brow.
Javelin let the crushed metal pieces clatter to the floor as he raised his hand in a calm, almost diplomatic gesture.
“Look, I’m always trying to find a peaceful solution to situations like this,” Javelin said evenly. “I’d like to believe we can keep this civil so things don’t have to get… drastic. Just put your hands up and surrender. Y’know?”
“... Tsk... What a pain… Have I really fallen so low as to be fighting some kid?” the man muttered.
"Uh... That wasn't exactly the response I was hoping for."
Magic flared from the man's body, swirling around his arm as he extended his hand. In his palm, a ball of magical energy formed—shaped like a spiked mace—before he launched it with the speed of a shotgun blast.
At that velocity, something so large should have turned any normal person’s body to jelly. And yet—
“Caught it!” Javelin said, holding the spiked magic ball in one hand. His hand seemed find despite catching the mach speed ball. Ms. Undyne did say I’d be good at dodgeball.
“…What the…” The man’s eyes narrowed. He began conjuring and hurling more of the spiked orbs in rapid succession. Javelin deflected them with casual swipes of his hand, each deflection blasting fresh holes into the train car’s walls. “Damn…”
Through one of those ragged holes in the ceiling, the man vaulted to the top of the train, the wind roaring around him. Javelin followed without hesitation, landing opposite him on the roof. The howl of air between them was deafening.
“…Humans, monsters, kids, adults—it doesn’t matter who gets hurt,” the man said coldly. “So long as I get paid in the end.”
“Wow… that’s pretty dramatic,” Javelin replied.
“Eh. Kids like you don’t understand the value of a dollar until you’re older.”
“Hm… yeah, I guess you’re right! I never really cared for money.”
"...You should, or more so you should of." Without another word, the man conjured spiked balls on chains with his magic, whipping them around at super sonic speeds. The kid weaved between them with ease—by the time the man blinked, the boy was already in front of him, gripping the collar of his shirt and forcing him to kneel.
"N–ngh!" He strained to break the boy’s grip—or his arm—but it didn’t budge. What the hell is he made of?!
"Are you done, dude?" the kid asked, his steel grip still on their shirt.
“…I see… You’re right… There’s no beating you, is there…?”
The man slowly went behind his back—the remote grasped from his pocket. Then, with a simple press of his thumb and a sly smile, explosions erupted in the distance. His teeth clenched tightly. His mind raced, and without a thought, he karate-chopped the man's neck, causing him to go numb, throwing him down into the train car.
The train rattled violently as Javelin looked with a widened eye.
They blew up the tracks? But why?! Is he a terrorist or something?
No—the “why” didn’t matter. Not now anyway. In a flash, he shot forward toward the front of the train, catching a glimpse of the conductor through the window.
Even as the train began to brake, there wouldn’t be enough time before it went off the tracks that were blown away.
Tsk… I can’t stop it instantly—the shock would kill people. It has to be gradual.
In a move that would look like utter madness to most, the boy climbed down to the very front of the train, planting one foot against the ground and dragging it along the rails and dirt.
He grit his teeth—not from pain, but from the razor-thin precision required. He had to slow the train without jolting it to a stop. The ruined tracks ahead were drawing closer.
It was in his realm of capabilities to stop it completly, but that force would not be good for anyone else on board.
So, slow and steady.
Bit by bit, the immense strength in his legs began to bleed off the bullet train’s speed…
Until finally, it came to a complete halt.
For a moment, the only sound was the metallic groan of the train settling back onto the rails, steam hissing from its undercarriage. Javelin remained crouched at the front, his foot still planted in the dirt as he took a steadying breath.
His chest rose and fell—not from fatigue, but from the rush of adrenaline still coursing through him. Slowly, he stepped back onto the front platform, his eye narrowing at the twisted, mangled stretch of track just ahead. Few more second, and the whole train would’ve gone airborne.
Through the windows, some passengers pressed forward, their faces pale and wide-eyed, breath fogging the glass. Others were already scrambling off the train in shouts.
Javelin brushed the dirt from his hands. The man inside was out cold, and with how hard he hit him, it was safe to say he won’t be up for a while. Of course, he held back not to do real damage. He’d already reported the location to the police. With that, he was gone.
Soon, the police would come and detain the man.
Inside an elevator at a local mall, a monster police officer let out a weary sigh. It had been a long day, and they were just waiting for the clock to run out.
Sharing the ride was a man in a hoodie and a mask, his hand buried deep in his pocket.
Alright… just assassinate them. Easy money… he thought, pulling out a small knife, its blade glowing faintly with magic that crawled up his arm. Just gotta—?!
Before he could strike, an arm suddenly burst through the back wall of the elevator, seizing his shirt and yanking him through with violent force.
Ngh?! was all he managed before skidding across the polished floor of the mall. “Who the—?!”
As he scrambled to his feet, still dazed, Javelin stepped forward, boring a gaze with furrowed brows and silent disappointment, brushing bits of metal and concrete dust from his hands.
The hooded man instinctively stepped back, his grip tightening around the glowing knife. “You—!” He looked around for ways he could escape the situation, but all routes didn't account for the possible diffrence in speed.
Whether from fear or sheer reflex, the assassin immediately went on the offensive. He thrust his arm forward, and what looked like a black tide poured from the sleeves of his jacket, surging toward Javelin.
Javelin raised his arms to block, the impact pushing him back just slightly.
Are these… bugs?! He realized it from the faint, rapid buzzing. The so-called “black sea” was actually millions of flesh-eating insects conjured by the man’s magic. They swarmed over his arms, trying to chew through them, but his hardened skin couldn't be bitten through.
Still, he noticed they were secreting a strange green fluid.
Venom? Weird. Though his body had a natural reistant to toxins, the acid against his skin wasn't a nice feeling. Be bad if it got in his eye.
The swarm of writhing, chittering mass kept trying to attack from different angles. Each time Javelin would swat them away with swipes of his hand.
The insects them created a dome around Javelin.
Tiny mandibles clicked and scraped against his skin, the sound sharp and grating, like nails raking across metal. Thin drips of green venom oozed between the insects, sizzling faintly as they splattered onto the polished mall floor.
Beneath his mask, the hooded man grinned. “Not so tough when you—”
Without warning, a massive wave of energy erupted from around the kid like a explosive burst of magic, igniting the entire swarm in an instant. The insects shriveled and crumbled into ash midair, scattering like burnt paper.
The assassin’s eyes went wide, instinctively taking several steps back.
“…You… you’re not even affected by the venom!” he stammered.
“Gross. I need a shower,” Javelin muttered under his breath, flicking some ash from his sleeve.
But the assassin wasn’t finished yet. Pouring every drop of remaining magic into his spell, he summoned a final monstrosity—smaller insects piling atop one another, fusing into something grotesque. Its body was warped and jagged, its legs bending at unnatural angles, green ooze dribbling from its gnashing mandibles.
It was massive—easily the size of a T. rex—and its hiss echoed through the mall like steam escaping from a ruptured pipe. The moment the bystanders saw it, panic instantly erupted. People screamed and scattered, shoving past each other to get to the exits.
But Javelin only scratched the back of his head, his expression one of mild annoyance.
The assassin, now utterly drained of magic, jabbed a trembling finger toward him.
The sound was deafening. In less than a heartbeat, Javelin’s fist tore through the monster, the force exploding it into nothing. Chitin and ooze burst apart in all directions, but it was like a balloon that popped—obliterated with a hole so massive one would think a large cannonball struck it.
After that was said and done, Javelin stepped forward, slowly approaching the now kneeling man. The boy’s shadow was cast over him, bringing pressure that made the man begin to sweat.
However, the kid wasn't like that. A smile tugged at Javelin’s lips as he kneeled down to the man’s level.
“You ok? I didn’t mean to scare you. Really, I didn’t. But I can’t have you hurting anyone, especially not a police officer. They’re like, super cool, y’know? And they have a home to go back to. So… we done?”
“...Y-Yes… My apologies…”
“Heh. Don’t worry. You can explain to the cops when they get here who paid the hit on that person.”
The man kept his gaze to the ground… “...Yeah…”
“…Man… what a day…” Javelin slouched back on the bench, exhaling a long breath. The sky was painted in shades of orange and pink—it was evening now. He’d just finished brawling with a gang and pulling people out of a burning building and hundrends of other stuff without rest.
All in a day’s work. And he didn’t plan on stopping anytime soon.
“You must be tired now,” came a cheerful voice beside him.
He turned his head slightly. Through his one open eye, he saw an elderly monster woman sitting on the bench, her hands folded neatly over her lap. She was probably waiting for the bus.
“Hey—wait, you’re the one who gave me that juice box on the train. I gotta thank you, I was pretty parched!”
“Ho ho, it was no trouble at all,” she chuckled warmly. “I had some saved for my grandkids. And I must thank you for saving us on that train. You must have been scared.”
“Oh, please,” Javelin waved a hand dismissively. “Sure, I was worried I might fail to save you guys—”
“No… I mean for your own well-being. After all, there were loud noises. Like gunfire and explosions... You must have been scared.”
Javelin’s gaze lowered. Slowly, he slid down further into the bench, shoulders sinking.
“Nah, I was sure shot, but I ain't afraid of something as minor as that." He tapped what looked like an insect bite on the side of his head. "But it’s no big deal. I can take hits like that in my sleep. In fact, I’ve still got more patrolling and work to do—”
“But your eyes have bags under them, your clothes are torn through with holes, and you’re shaking slightly,” she interrupted gently. “You need to take care of yourself, y’know.”
“…Trust me. I’m fine. I have always been fine. I will continue to be fine. Cause I'm cool like that. No need to worry about someone like me. My job is to look after you guys.”
The old monster’s gaze was low and somber, her eyes lingering on him for a moment—until the rumble of an approaching bus broke her focus.
“Hm… oh my, the bus is here,” she murmured, slowly rising with the help of her cane. She reached into her bag. “Here you go, take these. You look hungry; I know I would be after everything you’ve done today.”
It was a small box of sugar cookies, neatly wrapped in wax paper. Javelin accepted them with a grateful, almost hungry look.
As she stepped onto the bus and disappeared from view, the doors closing behind her, Javelin smiled faintly and began strolling down the street. He popped open the box, ready to take a bite—
"Heh..." Until he spotted a homeless man sitting against a brick wall. The man’s clothes were ragged, his eyes tired, and his stomach let out a growl loud enough for Javelin to hear.
Javelin’s own stomach grumbled in counter to this, but he only sighed. Closing the lid, he handed over the entire box without a word, turning to walk away before the man could even thank him.
He cracked his neck, his thoughts drifting back to the old woman’s voice.
Trust me, lady… But there's no need to worry really... I don't hold enough value for that sorta thing. But you should keep enjoying every second of your life, and I'll keep protecting it... That is my role in all of this... It's what 'Javelin' would do.
He continued off to patrol, hungry, thirsty, and possibly getting tired. But honestly, he couldn't care less.
He'd keep fighting.
He'd keep protecting...
Until eventually, he keels over someday...
...In the end... It's nothing special.
