[ WP ] Every aspiring superhero must become a sidekick for a few years before being granted full time hero status . You are the strongest superhero in your age group , but believe you have been assigned to the weakest hero . You learn a lot more than you originally thought you would .

Taurion had had enough. 
 
 
 2 weeks shadowing this bastard, they hadn ’ t so much as sniffed any action. 
 
 
 Nothing but hospitals, community meetings, home visits. Funerals. 
 
 
 Angry, accusing eyes. 
 
 
 Real bummer. 
 
 
 Now, Big T valued public relations as much as anybody, but jeez, these people were so ungrateful. They didn ’ t seem to understand that, sad as it may be, in war there ’ s bound to be casualties, and their families ’ losses were mostly unavoidable. For every building destroyed, there ’ d be 10 times as many if heroes stood by, did nothing. And these villains, they don ’ t often choose to rumble in vacant fields. No, more often than not it was a shopping mall or a playground. Things get rough. People get hurt. That ’ s how it is. 
 
 
 But did it really make sense for a guy like Big T, who could do what he could do, driving around in rented cars, listening to widows talk about how their Harold was a nice guy, who sure he drank too much on Saturdays but was at every one of Jr. ’ s little league games? Didn ’ t they know what was at stake?? 
 
 
 And of all the people to have doing this work, why do they have the biggest sad sack on planet Earth as their face???? Pale, wrinkled, balding, stooped, wearing the same baggy black suit, grey shirt and brown tie daily ( or did he have 2 weeks worth of the same exact outfit??? ), T ’ s “ Mentor ” looked like an IRS agent whose wife had left him. Weren ’ t mentors supposed to be heroes too? Because he hadn ’ t seen this guy do jack shit. 
 
 
 And now, here they sat, in a rented economy car, outside of another mom ’ s house, 3 days after she ’ d gotten the call that her son was never coming home again. 
 
 
 T and his mentor had come to pay their respects, but T could tell that she ’ d blamed him. Big T didn ’ t have to do anything but stand there and nod, but most people could look at him and tell that he was special. 
 
 
 One of them. 
 
 
 And her son was not, and he ’ d had the misfortune of being on the field of play when the battle commenced, and that wasn ’ t T ’ s fault, but she surely blamed him anyway for the collateral damage. Mom was crying when she answered the door, and the Mentor apologized on behalf of the ‘ Special ’ community, and listened as she rambled about how something should be done but that she understood but that something should be done but she didn ’ t know what, and the Mentor apologized again, and she said that she accepted, and they shook hands, and they left her, dazed and as son-less as before. And for this, they ’ d flown to Buffalo in January? 
 
 
 T had had enough. Enough of these people, enough of these hospitals and memorials, and enough of this hand-holding with this silent, depressing nobody, who sat staring straight ahead in a rented economy sedan instead of turning the ignition and driving so that T could get something to eat. 
 
 
 “ So….where to next? Holocaust museum? Orphanage? ”, T smirked. 
 
 
 The Mentor turned wordlessly him, eyes narrow. An actual reaction? From ol ’ Eeyore? T was emboldened. 
 
 
 “ I thought maybe we were going to Hiroshima to apologize for WWII. We ’ re running outta things to apologize for in THIS century…. ” 
 
 
 For the first time NOT in the presence of a bereaved loved one, the Mentor ’ s posture straightened. 
 
 
 “ Is that what you ’ re getting out of this, genius? Going on tour, apologizing? ” 
 
 
 T didn ’ t like attacks on his intellect. He ’ d put more than one brainiac Special through a wall in school for trying to embarrass him like that. 
 
 
 “ I haven ’ t seen you do anything BUT apologize, SIR. I ’ m beginning to think maybe they put me on this to show me how lucky I am to be a REAL special, SIR, instead of a nobody who…. ” T stopped. He was unnerved. The Mentor started doing something he hadn ’ t seen in the 2 weeks they ’ d been joined at the hip. 
 
 
 He was smiling. 
 
 
 “ Oh, I ’ m a Special, Taurion, ” said the Mentor, “ I ’ m one of the rarest types of all. I take people ’ s pain away. ” 
 
 
 T was surprised, but intrigued. He ’ d never even heard of that. 
 
 
 “ That….that does make sense. Hehe, I was wondering why they have you working this beat. I mean, you ’ re not exactly Mr. Personality. But if you can make people ’ s pain disappear, then -- -- “ 
 
 
 The Mentor cut him off. “ Oh, I doesn ’ t disappear, Taurion; I know exactly where it goes ”, and before T could respond, the Mentor reached out and touched T ’ s cheek with a single fingertip, and T knew where it all went, too. 

