The Scumbag’s Guide To Heroism
The first thing that should've told me this wasn't my room were the curtains. I never had the luxury of getting any kind of curtains in my room. Most of the time, it was either half-broken blinds or nothing at all. The second clue was this bed. It was way too big to be my old full-sized bed. This thing was at least king-sized, with impossibly soft sheets and a mattress so comfortable that it felt like getting out of it should be illegal. "What the…" I mumbled, pushing myself onto my elbows as I yawned, trying to shake off the last bit of sleepiness. The room slowly came into focus. Cream-colored walls. Minimalist furniture. A sleek desk tucked neatly into the corner, complete with a sick gaming setup, expensive enough to make any gamer cry. This wasn't my room. Not even close. I patted around for my phone but couldn't find it anywhere. Damn… did I get drunk last night or something? I racked my brain for any memory of how I even got here, but all I found was fuzzy static. Ding. A notification chimed from somewhere nearby. Normally I would check it immediately, but with my skull feeling like it had just gotten split open, it wasn't exactly on my priority list. "Water," I croaked while swinging my legs off the bed. Instead of the cheap, chicken-scratched carpet I was used to, my feet sank into thick, plush carpeting. I stood up shakily, nearly tripping at the unfamiliarity of my legs. Why do my legs feel so… long? Why was I so tall? The bedroom door felt like it was a million miles away as I shuffled toward it. When I finally grabbed the handle and pulled it open, I found myself in a hallway that looked like it belonged in an issue of Architectural Digest. Polished hardwood floors gleamed under the recessed lighting. Elegant paintings hung on the walls, while decorative sculptures filled the empty space between them. A few of the statues looked like superheroes wearing capes. Huh, must be a family of hardcore Marvel fans. One of the doors farther down the hall was slig
