[ WP ] You live in a world of heroes and villains , your job is to contact heroes for hospital visits to sick children , this last request is a challenge , the kid wants to meet their favourite villain ...

I march. Forward. 
 
 There was a time this world was pure. Wild, untamed forests sprawled across its jagged landscape. And all the beautiful souls on Earth called it home. Humans have destroyed that world. Their cities grow like a plague, and all else must flee or parish. Most limp weakly away, until they can walk no longer and they die. But not me. I do not retreat. I see my enemy before me. And I march forward. 
 
 There was a young boy. 
 
 One time he saw me strike. He watched them hit me with bullets, bombs, and fire. And each time I shuddered and slowed, but I took another step. He watched me cleave their machines in half with a single swipe of my claws. From a distance, he saw me bring their factory to the ground. Awestruck he ran home. 
 
 He used to march like me. Slowly, with purpose, he'd stomp across the room. It was a game; the boy knew he could n't break through walls. But every time his father would try to stop him and pretend to be knocked away. 
 
 The boy can not breathe any more. Soot has clogged his throat. He coughs until he vomits and his lungs fill with bile. It burns. He weeps. Still he gasps for air. 
 
 And yet, as he laid dying, he tried to march another step. He could no longer leave his bed, so he weakly pushed against his father, and let out a quiet roar. Weeping, his father pretended to fall. 
 
 Perhaps out of weakness on my part, I marched into that hospital. Through the bullets, past the hate. I pushed forward until I took the child in my arms. I could not fix the boys lungs, but I could take away the pain. 
 
 I cradled the boy and crept back into the woods. I took him deep, to a far away meadow, and rested him on a flower bed. I brushed the hair off his face and closed his eyes. Gently, he drifted off to sleep. 
 
 Perhaps, when the humans come to destroy these woods, they'll know why I march. Perhaps they'll see the boy and stop. 
 
 But they wo n't.
