Former Hero - Tumblr Posts

Former Hero Gets a Wheelchair

Today was the day.

After months of hardly getting out of bed, months of fighting the agency’s insurance plan, months of insisting that the hero’s condition was, in fact, service related, they were finally getting a custom wheelchair delivered.

Today, they got their independence back.

The doorbell rang and Hero had never moved faster on their cane, rubber tip taps and accompanying footsteps echoing through their entryway as they reached the door. Opening it, they were greeted with a beautiful sight. A smiling worker stood behind their brand new chair.

The rigid frame was coated in a metallic blue, with shining push rims to match. Black metal completed the footrest and backrest support, blending into the black wheels and side guards. It looked sleek; It looked perfect.

Waved in by the former hero, the worker lifted the caster wheels over the door frame, pushing the chair up and inside before locking the small silver brakes.

“You ready to take her for a spin?” They asked, and the hero grinned from ear to ear. They took a seat, sliding back till their hips were settled. The worker pointed out the buckle and Hero clicked it shut.

“Safety first,” they nodded and the worker chuckled in response.

Brakes unlocked, they pushed, and they glided like they were on a cloud.

They sighed at the ease of movement, moving down the hallway with little pain. It had been so long since they could just move. They missed moving just for the fun of it, for the rush of wind in their hair and adrenaline coursing through their veins. They missed jumping across rooftops, turning their feet on a dime, climbing walls, and starting fights that they could actually win.

Overwhelmed with the return of that feeling, they found themselves increasing their speed more than what may have been advisable around the house. Consequently, when they tried to turn around, they clipped the doorframe, leaving a scuff mark on the plaster and a slight damper on their confidence.

“Takes a little getting used to,” the worker assured.

Hero continued, slightly abashed at their excitement. The worker watched, then suggested they raise the footplate a little to accommodate Hero’s thin soled shoes. After a moment with an Allen wrench, Hero was properly fitted into their new wheelchair.

Now, it just needed a name.

In their time as a Hero, they had practiced restraint when fighting countless villains. They never aimed to maim or hurt more than necessary, even if the villains pointedly did not return the favor. Ever since being forced to retire, Hero carried that sentiment into their civilian life too. However, there were times when they wished to be a little petty. Sometimes, when people blocked ramps or stared at them a little too judgingly, they wished warm pillows and bad hair days upon them. Their prayers for minor inconveniences rose especially when they saw news of a certain villain, who Hero suspected to have a set of very crushable toes.

Maybe, Hero would have to pay them a little visit, with the help of the brand new Metatarsal Muncher.

They couldn’t wait to get out of the house, to be able to function on a daily basis. They were going to get groceries, get out to retirement-events, go outside with a sense of focus not being spent on trying to stay upright, shop without a mind clouded with pain.

If only it hadn’t taken them this long to accept what they needed.

The worker showed them how to disassemble the chair. The ultra-light wheels came off with a button press in the middle, the cushion was removed so the back could fold down. Hero got to assemble it back themselves and, satisfied, the worker bid them goodbye with some maintenance and care instructions.

Far too excited to wait, the former Hero loaded their chair into the car and headed for the park, thrilled to go watch the robins and blue jays hop between the trees. Once, the former hero had envied their freedom, the ease with which they traveled and lived their lives. They had wished they could soar above the sky and dive down back to the ground. Now, as they followed the smooth concrete path through the oaks and the birches, they made peace with their own kind of freedom.

It may not look the same as it once did, but life moved on.

If they had earned nothing else in their time as a hero, it was the right to live their life in the least amount of pain possible. Despite any reservations, they would use this tool to help them, and if anyone had a problem with that, they would meet the wrath of the Metatarsal Muncher.

Former Hero Gets a Wheelchair

Today was the day.

After months of hardly getting out of bed, months of fighting the agency’s insurance plan, months of insisting that the hero’s condition was, in fact, service related, they were finally getting a custom wheelchair delivered.

Today, they got their independence back.

The doorbell rang and Hero had never moved faster on their cane, rubber tip taps and accompanying footsteps echoing through their entryway as they reached the door. Opening it, they were greeted with a beautiful sight. A smiling worker stood behind their brand new chair.

The rigid frame was coated in a metallic blue, with shining push rims to match. Black metal completed the footrest and backrest support, blending into the black wheels and side guards. It looked sleek; It looked perfect.

Waved in by the former hero, the worker lifted the caster wheels over the door frame, pushing the chair up and inside before locking the small silver brakes.

“You ready to take her for a spin?” They asked, and the hero grinned from ear to ear. They took a seat, sliding back till their hips were settled. The worker pointed out the buckle and Hero clicked it shut.

“Safety first,” they nodded and the worker chuckled in response.

Brakes unlocked, they pushed, and they glided like they were on a cloud.

They sighed at the ease of movement, moving down the hallway with little pain. It had been so long since they could just move. They missed moving just for the fun of it, for the rush of wind in their hair and adrenaline coursing through their veins. They missed jumping across rooftops, turning their feet on a dime, climbing walls, and starting fights that they could actually win.

Overwhelmed with the return of that feeling, they found themselves increasing their speed more than what may have been advisable around the house. Consequently, when they tried to turn around, they clipped the doorframe, leaving a scuff mark on the plaster and a slight damper on their confidence.

“Takes a little getting used to,” the worker assured.

Hero continued, slightly abashed at their excitement. The worker watched, then suggested they raise the footplate a little to accommodate Hero’s thin soled shoes. After a moment with an Allen wrench, Hero was properly fitted into their new wheelchair.

Now, it just needed a name.

In their time as a Hero, they had practiced restraint when fighting countless villains. They never aimed to maim or hurt more than necessary, even if the villains pointedly did not return the favor. Ever since being forced to retire, Hero carried that sentiment into their civilian life too. However, there were times when they wished to be a little petty. Sometimes, when people blocked ramps or stared at them a little too judgingly, they wished warm pillows and bad hair days upon them. Their prayers for minor inconveniences rose especially when they saw news of a certain villain, who Hero suspected to have a set of very crushable toes.

Maybe, Hero would have to pay them a little visit, with the help of the brand new Metatarsal Muncher.

They couldn’t wait to get out of the house, to be able to function on a daily basis. They were going to get groceries, get out to retirement-events, go outside with a sense of focus not being spent on trying to stay upright, shop without a mind clouded with pain.

If only it hadn’t taken them this long to accept what they needed.

The worker showed them how to disassemble the chair. The ultra-light wheels came off with a button press in the middle, the cushion was removed so the back could fold down. Hero got to assemble it back themselves and, satisfied, the worker bid them goodbye with some maintenance and care instructions.

Far too excited to wait, the former Hero loaded their chair into the car and headed for the park, thrilled to go watch the robins and blue jays hop between the trees. Once, the former hero had envied their freedom, the ease with which they traveled and lived their lives. They had wished they could soar above the sky and dive down back to the ground. Now, as they followed the smooth concrete path through the oaks and the birches, they made peace with their own kind of freedom.

It may not look the same as it once did, but life moved on.

If they had earned nothing else in their time as a hero, it was the right to live their life in the least amount of pain possible. Despite any reservations, they would use this tool to help them, and if anyone had a problem with that, they would meet the wrath of the Metatarsal Muncher.