The Scumbag's Guide To Heroism

Chapter 312: 312 | Your Burgeoning Career as a Media Darling

"Every instructor at Halloran brings something unique to our development. Radiant’s experience in high-stakes situations provides perspectives that can’t be taught from textbooks." I kept my posture open, my expression sincere. "When he talks about threat assessment or civilian protection, he’s not speaking theoretically. He’s sharing lessons learned from actual operations that saved actual lives."

"Some critics argue that having such a high-profile hero teaching students is a waste of resources. That Radiant’s time would be better spent in the field."

"I’d argue the opposite." My voice gained conviction, the kind that came from believing what I was saying. "The next generation of heroes needs more than combat training. We need to understand what it means to be a symbol. What it means to be the person that civilians look to when everything goes wrong. Radiant teaching us isn’t pulling him from the field. It’s ensuring that the field has better heroes in it ten years from now."

The reporter leaned in, sensing she’d found something worth pursuing. "You speak very confidently about being a symbol. Do you have aspirations of reaching that level yourself?"

The question landed exactly where I’d been steering it. Diane would have been proud of the setup.

"Every first-year here wants to be the best," I said. "That’s why we’re at Halloran instead of regional academies. But being the best isn’t about rankings or sponsorship deals. It’s about being the person who shows up when it matters. The person who makes civilians feel safe just by being present." I paused, letting the words land. "Radiant taught us that in his first lecture. He said heroes who chase fame find emptiness. Heroes who chase service find legacy."

The camera operator adjusted his angle, getting a better shot. The reporter’s expression had shifted from professional skepticism to something closer to genuine engagement.

"That’s a very mature perspective for a first-year student."

"I’ve had good teachers." I smiled, the expression genuine because I was thinking about Diane explaining brand positioning over breakfast, about Sloane’s face when she talked about watching Radiant save her neighborhood. "And I’ve had good examples."

"One last question." The reporter moved the microphone closer. "If you could say anything to the viewing audience, to the civilians who will one day be looking to you and your classmates for protection, what would it be?"

This was the moment. The perfect setup for the perfect soundbite. The kind of clip that would get replayed on morning news shows and social media feeds, establishing a narrative before I’d even graduated.

I thought about the symbol I wanted to become. Not just the strongest. Not just the most famous. The one that people trusted. The one that made them feel safe.

"We’re working as hard as we can to be worthy of your trust," I said. "Not just in the training rooms or the simulations, but in understanding what that trust actually means. Every day, we’re learning how to be the heroes you deserve. That’s what this academy teaches us. That’s what instructors like Radiant remind us of. And that’s what we’re going to deliver."

The reporter held the microphone for another beat, then lowered it with an expression that suggested she’d gotten exactly what she came for.

"Thank you for your time. That was very well spoken."

"Thank you for the opportunity."

She signaled her cameraman to stop recording, then handed me a business card with the smooth efficiency of someone who recognized potential when she saw it.

"Elena Vasquez. Channel 7 News." Her smile was warmer now, less professional and more personal. "I have a feeling we’ll be seeing a lot more of you, Mr...?"

"Belmont. Lukas Belmont."

"Mr. Belmont." She tucked the card into my hand. "When you’re ready to do a longer interview, call that number. I think your perspective could be very valuable for our audience."

She walked away, cameraman in tow, already scanning for her next target.

Felicity stared at me with an expression I couldn’t quite read.

"What?" I said.

"What was that?"

"That was an interview."

"That was a performance." Her voice carried admiration and something else, something closer to concern. "You just branded yourself on live television. You positioned yourself as the thoughtful, articulate future of the hero profession. You quoted Radiant’s lectures and talked about being worthy of civilian trust."

"Is that bad?"

"That’s terrifying." She shook her head slowly. "You didn’t just answer her questions. You controlled the entire narrative. You gave her exactly the soundbites she wanted while making sure every single one of them served your interests."

"Diane taught me that interviews are just negotiations where only one party thinks they’re getting what they want."

"Diane is apparently a genius." Felicity squeezed my arm, but her expression remained complicated. "Lukas. That reporter is going to put you on the news tonight. People are going to see your face. They’re going to remember your name."

"That’s the point."

"Is it?" She stopped walking, forcing me to face her. "You’re not trying to be famous. You’re trying to be something else. Something bigger."

The observation landed closer to the truth than I wanted to acknowledge. I thought about Radiant inspiring an entire generation. About Sloane crying when she talked about watching him save her neighborhood. About what it meant to be the symbol that people looked to when everything fell apart.

"Someone has to take that mantle eventually," I said. "Radiant won’t be number one forever."

Felicity’s eyes widened. "You’re not serious."

"I’m extremely serious."

"You want to be the next Radiant?"

"I want to be what Radiant represents." I met her gaze directly. "The symbol. The face. The person who makes civilians feel safe just by existing. That’s not about rankings or Aspects or combat capability. That’s about trust. And trust is built through moments like the one that just happened."

She was quiet for a long moment, processing. Her blue eyes searched my face for something, deception or delusion or maybe just understanding.

"You really believe that," she said finally.

"I really do."

"That’s either the most ambitious thing I’ve ever heard or the most insane thing I’ve ever heard."

"Probably both."

She laughed, the sound bright and genuine despite the weight of the conversation. Her hand found mine and squeezed, the touch warm and grounding.

"Well then," she said, "I suppose I should start taking notes. If you’re going to become the next great symbol of heroism, I want to be there when it happens."

"You’ll have excellent seats."

"I better." She started walking again, pulling me toward the academic building. "Now come on. We’re going to be late for class, and I refuse to let your burgeoning career as a media darling interfere with my academic standing."