[h1][b][i][color=39b54a][center]Felix Hausten[/center][/color][/i][/b][/h1]
[center]Location: Justice Memorial Hospital [/center]

hew as out cold still. His body was unconscious, immobile as he was operated on. It'd been such a long time since he'd been forced into such a state. Hell, he couldn't recall another time in which such a scenario occurred. He always felt so helpless when he knew he'd be in a state where he couldn't defend himself. In that state he didn#'t know if Riley was gone, or where Marc was either. he remembered Riley in the ambulance ride but...now was different.

He found himself at the doorstep of his family home, on his knees staring at it with a cold furious look kindling in his eyes. He had to keep going. At this point he still saw himself as the rough dashing action hero. That's what he'd always wanetd to be. That's why he wrote detective and crime novels. he created characters that were charismatic, fearless and always got people happy, bringing a smile to every person they encountered. These were feats he never saw himself completing. 

He knew why. he knew what had pushed him down. His dreams, cast aside by one man's words. [b]"YOU ARE NOT SOME SILLY HERO FELIX"[/b] he heard shout through him. His father rarely used English, but Felix loved the language. He'd studied it in high school so much. So he could become something. Someone people would hear about and think, wow what a guy. Felix never became that. Felix just wrote, he wrote stories that bordered on reality. He became obsessed with creating situations for his heros to battle. Even if it meant breaking a few eggs. 

He tumbled through the door, determined to keep going. He wasn't giving up.