"You are safe now," Derek said, patting the head of a boy with dirt-streaked cheeks and trembling hands.
The boy looked up at him with wide eyes, barely old enough to understand the danger he'd just survived. But he clung tightly to Derek's coat like it was the last solid thing in his crumbling world.
A wave of emotions hit the shelter. People who moments ago had been ready to die now surged with hope, some collapsing to their knees in relief, others crying out in praise and disbelief.
"Who are you?" an older man asked, his voice hoarse. " Are you a superhero? "
" Grandpa, at your age, you still believe in superheroes? " Derek thought.
He glanced around at the battered shelter—cracked walls, soot-smudged faces, the smell of smoke and metal still clinging to the air. "I'm just a guy doing what needs to be done."
"But the way you fought… the armour, the blades, those things didn't even touch you…" The man continued, almost in awe. "We thought we were finished."
