Up until the age of thirteen I had lived with my father, who was widely known as Ares the God of War, that was his hero name at least, in his few personal circles his name was Silas Glaine. Our home was a NYC condo overlooking central park, with grayscale paint colors, white marble countertops and the kind of furniture that's made for looking rather than sitting.

These luxuries were afforded due to my fathers career, being within the top ten heroes in the city provides the celebrity-like status necessary to live without want. My father, just so happens to be number three, beaten out only by the number two hero Lady Luminous and the great Solarius Sunstrider in the number one spot. Both of whom were sore subjects for his mood, and pride. Despite not holding the number one spot, however, he was still a man of great accomplishment. 

My father changed his hero name to Ares after winning the title God of War from its previous holder, a title which symbolizes the world's strongest physical combatant and can only gained by killing the predecessor, who in this case was a villain operating out of the Alaskan wilderness, many of you have heard the stories im sure. After all, the title and event alone raised his rankings dramatically. His successes through the years had donated the rest to get him where he was. He may not possess the impossible speeds of Lady Luminous, the #2 hero, or the radiant flames of Solarius Sunstrider, who dominated the rankings as #1 hero, but his strength was unrivaled by any.

You all likely have heard the exploits of my father before and I don't wish to bore you with the details of his public image, rather, I want to express the dual nature of my father to better help you understand myself. As much as I loathe to say it, I am my father's daughter. 

…

March 6th, 1995,

On March 6th, 1995, I turned 10 years old. The kind of day most little girls would wake up to and be spoiled by their daddys who would give them the world if they could. One where they would throw off their princess covers and run into the kitchen, with a tiara and birthday sash, squealing in delight. A day where I had woken up to my alarm clock at 0430 hours as I did every other day, to a white ceiling and white walls, light gray sheets with a black metal bed frame, and no tiara in sight. Not that I had expected or even wanted a tiara at the time, I had no expectations of the day, only hindsight allows me to miss what could have been.

The hallway from my bedroom to our in-home gym was a short one, a few plants made their homes there, ivys and stunted looking indoor trees had done their best to bring some life to the place. Until the cook and cleaning staff arrived, however, the place would remain silent. 

Within the gym is a different story, the wear on everything could be seen even from the entryway. The barbell and other weights had been worn down and in some cases crushed, not by myself of course, my father didn't want me using weights until my strength fully came in. Not that I was able to lift them at that age anyway, they were, after all, specially designed for people like my father and I, those who had strength mutations. A bloodstain, dried and flaking, on the sparring mat was evidence of our training the previous day, still left there because the cleaners dont come on Monday’s . Two treadmills were against the back wall, littered with scuff marks from our shoes, and a whole manner of other things which had given that room more life than any other in the condo.

For those of you old enough to remember this may be unnecessary, but I'd discovered from the news while I was going through my morning routine what was happening. Only a mile into my run Heroes News Broadcast, or the HNB, had been showing footage of the brooklyn bridge on the verge of collapse. Spires of ice could be seen shattering through the bridge's supports, barring escape from the civilians who were unlucky enough to have been caught in the middle. 

The news feed zoomed in on the bridge's center, to where my father, adorned in black and red armor, held the cords of the bridge's supports, keeping them from collapsing outward and destroying the bridge. Despite being the strongest out there, even he strained against the weight of it. His stance had been wide and if one looked close enough they would have seen his armor dented from the bridge's weight. 

“Ares seems to be holding the bridge up, making this perhaps one of the greatest feats of strength we've seen from him to date, but he's a sitting duck out there if the villain responsible for this decides to come for him” As always, despite talking about a life or death situation, the HNB anchor spoke more like a sports commentator then a someone reporting on attacks like this.

On the screen, a flash of silver and gold had been visible, and I hadn't been the only one to notice it.

“What’s this!” The anchor said “Unless my eyes deceive me, Lady Luminous, the world's fastest hero, has appeared on the field!”

No sooner than the words left the anchor's mouth did streaks of gold and silver decorate the bridge as, faster than the eye can follow, Lady Luminous collected families and individuals from their vehicles and the rubble before running them to freedom beyond the ice walls. 

“Would you look at that! Rescue Hero Lady Luminous has once again cleared civilians of the danger in a matter of moments. Just look at that form as she awaits the final confrontation!”

Though I found the man's giddiness a little sickening I had still found it in myself to admire her. With her short, pixie cut blonde hair and golden domino mask, white tracksuit decorated in silver and gold accents, and her signature gold sneakers inscribed with her logo, a wing referencing the winged shoes of Hermes. Honestly, she had been the picture of what people wanted as a hero. She was relatively young and pretty, with a casual kind of charisma and demeanor that made the people love her. It had come as no surprise when she looked at the camera, situated above her in the helicopter, and flashed it a grin. 

With another burst of speed, which caught both myself, and based on the noise he made the news anchor as well, she shot off once again like a bullet before seconds later she stood beside my father Ares, and on the ground before her was a woman in blue robes with a staff made of ice. One of her golden sneakers was planted on the back of the woman's head as she pushed their face into the ground, blood already pooling around the woman's limp body. When cheers erupted from within the news studio, Lady Luminous looked up to the camera again and posed, while blowing a bubble with her gum. My father behind her, clenched his jaw and kept holding tight on the bridge in silence. I could tell though, that he was angry.