Dead Plot Armor

He woke up when he should have died trying. Trying to hang on to life. The wounds in his stomach wouldn’t close, and nobody knew what was going on, so it was clear what would happen next.

—--What an idiot he was for thinking today would just be an ordinary day...

It was funny. A few hours ago, he would've agreed with that.

* * *

“John,” a loud voice called, somehow with a calm tone, “Come get breakfast already.. You tryna be late?” His mom always yelled for some reason, and managed to do it without any traces of anger. John chuckled inside. “That bed’s gotta go, dude…” He said, commenting on the state of the bed he slept on. John dragged himself out of bed and got ready on autopilot. Five minutes later, his mom was already yelling at him from downstairs. When he got downstairs, his mom had already made breakfast. Bacon. Good enough.

“I’m here.” he called, and his mom turned around. “Ah,” she grinned. “I thought you’d never come down.” To this, John scoffed and sat at the table. After wrapping up and putting his plate in the sink nearby, John grabbed his bag from the ground.

“...”

“You gonna leave? You’re gonna be late, I told you.”

School felt less like learning and more like serving a sentence. That was how life was, for John. Once he got outside, he kept walking until he stopped at the crosswalk. Looking to the left, then the right to be careful, he started moving. Surprisingly, he was the only one on this path. The trucks and cars were shuffling around weirdly, and there was a loud honk that wouldn’t stop from behind them.

“Move, move, MOVE!!” It was a truck driver shouting for the cars to move. They all parted and created a path for the crazed driver as John was confused about what was going on. John hesitated halfway across the crosswalk. When the last row of cars cleared up, the truck almost settled at the front of the line. “Seriously? This is what all the trouble was for? So he could cut in line?” He began to facepalm. “That’s honestly… pathetic—-”

“John–!! John!” A voice shouted from behind.

Fortunately, John was not the type of person to be confused after hearing Duck!. After comprehending what was said quickly— there was a strong gust of wind at his side– he ran forward until he crossed the crosswalk. When he was out of breath, he turned and saw the truck had passed everyone and ran the red light. At the start of the crosswalk was his mom. So that’s what that was. A truck was gonna run me over.

His knees nearly gave out. If his mom hadn't shouted… He would've died.

The mere thought of it sent shivers through his body, but then he noticed the truck stopped ahead. “Damn it, damn it, damn it!! Why won’t you just–” The driver was trying to get an unresponsive vehicle to move. And then before he could check it out, it just–

The truck exploded.

“--!!”

“...”

Everyone watching was shocked. Even as the light turned green, everyone refused to move. Afraid they might be next. Next in line for whatever happened.

At school, John couldn’t focus. Why did that car explode? Of course, it could be something as simple as some materials that should not be coming in contact, coming in contact. But it didn’t feel like that. The way the man went to check the truck… he should've known what was in there, right? He clenched his fists on the desk, wanting to know more.

When he got home, John turned on the news and hoped to find something relevant to the earlier topic. To his surprise, he found nothing. With a sigh, he found his mom in the kitchen cooking dinner. “John. I heard some gossip about the truck incident.” she said. His eyes lit and he replied, “Nothing on the news, so what did you even hear?”

“Not much, but there was this knife in the trunk. The pattern… something like three gold swirls–”

“Why the hell are you telling me about a pattern!? What does that even have to do with the– Ouch..”

His mom slapped him for raising his voice. “That’s all we know, anyway. Dinner will be ready in a bit.”

“... I’m gonna take a nap. Call me when it's done, I guess…”

Night came, but there was no call. Maybe she was ignoring him, or forgot. It was cold. When he was fully awake, he realized his hands were hot. Hot and cold. Contradicting temperatures. He looked at his hands but couldn’t fully make out what it was. His hands and his white bedsheets carried the same color and his bed continued to make that creak.

Looking forward, he saw three men in black. One was holding a knife.

“I think this woke him up, boss.” one said, to which the other nodded. “Just takin’ what ya owe us.” The “boss” drove the knife into John’s torso, and he couldn’t move as he tucked himself in. “--?!” John’s face swirled in confusion. “Huh? What? Wait, wait…”

The knife plunged deeper, and blood left John’s mouth, painting his bed a shade of crimson. “...What’s going…” It did not stop. Even when it was removed, it simply went to pierce another spot. The cursed swirls of gold. They drove holes into his stomach, and there was nothing he could do about it. An ordinary day, John thought. He’d go take a quick nap, and wake up to dinner. Funny. A few hours ago, he would've agreed with that. Now, he’d think he was lying. It wasn’t that simple. The wounds in his stomach wouldn’t close, and he didn't know what was going on, so it was clear, then, what would happen next.

John Doe would die.

* * *

The sun shined bright through the forest trees, landing right on John’s face.

He winced, as if he was feeling pain in the current moment, and to his shock there was no wound. “Huh…? A few seconds ago I swear I was dying… Wait, did I die?!” He checked himself up and down. The only logical conclusion would be that he did. John supported that evidence by the fact that he did not recognize his surroundings, and he seemed to be the only one around. The vast jungle would probably be swarming with threats that he couldn’t protect himself from alone. The tall trees made it difficult to tell whether it was day or night, but if you looked closely it was possible to tell. John didn’t hate insects in particular, so when he saw an insect, he’d walk over it. That was when he wasn’t thinking and tripped over a branch– Pain was nothing compared to… that. He was about to stand up and search when someone began to lunge at him–

“--!!” He instinctively looked away and held his hands in front of him. Just before the attack landed, an unknown old man leapt in from behind John and blocked the woman’s attack with a sword. “Just like those movies and comics with plot armor… No way that worked…”

That comment was heard by both of the people engaging in combat, and they both pondered on it. The old man drove the girl back and then regained his balance. “In this world, young man, you could be killed if the world so much as desires it. You need to get strong and defy it.” Sweat formed on the man’s brow as he gripped his blade harder. The girl clenched her fists from a distance and they ignited, burning hot with fire.

“So that’s your trope, huh? The mentor… which means you know you’ll die, right?” The girl said this half to provoke the man and the other half to confirm her suspicions. The old man gritted his teeth. “However bound by fate I may be, I will fulfill my role.” He ran towards her and her ignited fists collided with the sharpness of his blade.

“If we keep this up, we’ll get nowhere. And you know that, woman of flame.” Hearing this, she snickered. “Not bad for an old geezer nearing the end of his life.” She put more pressure on the man’s blade, and made him move a little. “They say with age comes wisdom…” the old man remarked, but the girl only burned her flames brighter. “That quote ends with– ‘but sometimes age comes alone’!!”

She overpowered him, sending him flying into a tree. The sound of a bone was heard, but the old man paid it no mind and continued to go on the offensive. John could only watch. The red-haired girl seemed to enjoy it. He had no experience with a sword nor did he know how to effectively use his fists. “You there, on the ground.” the girl called. “Names Phoebe. I’ll be killing that guy if you don’t mind.” She turned her attention towards the old man, as his long grey hair swayed. He struggled to grip his sword and stand. “He’s an old man, Phoebe, or whatever… And you talk a big game quotewise, but have you ever heard ‘respect your elders’?”

John Doe rose to his feet with a newfound determination and a will to fight.

Johnning towards Phoebe, he swore to himself he wouldn’t let her touch the old man. Laying her hands on a struggling old man wasn’t something John would tolerate. But how would he fight? In a new world, he had just existed in seconds before being dragged into a battle. He didn’t know what he could even do. The one thing that made John formidable during a fight was his tendency not to give up. He understood all his strengths and weaknesses, but he still chose not to accept his limits.

As he got closer, he noticed Phoebe wasn’t running anymore. She started walking, playing with her food. The old man wouldn’t be up for a little while, so John’s plan was to buy him time. Phoebe lit her right arm and began to swing it downwards, drawing an arc—

—but John got in the way, and in a twist of fate, she was forced to direct her attack elsewhere. Phoebe lost her footing without even realizing it. John’s eyes were still shut, anticipating a fatal strike. “What the hell?” she said. She wondered how he deflected the attack without showing any malicious intent. John started sweating profusely but maintained his composure so Phoebe wouldn’t catch on to anything.

He couldn’t replicate what he just did. After her attack had missed, Phoebe backed up and attempted to light hotter flames. Before she could finish, though, the man who could barely get to his feet had made his way behind her, readying his blade for a killing blow.

“No fair..” Phoebe groaned, and directed her flames towards the ground. The old man gave up the killing blow and defended himself from the scorching heat. John was sure not to get caught up in it as well. How do I even help in this situation? I probably lucked out earlier, so what can I do…? He picked through all the choices he could make. Abandon the man who saved him and run, or stay and fight. Any option could have a horrible consequence. Phoebe didn’t give him time to think fully and went back on the offensive, launching balls of fire at the two, which they dodged. John barely did.

“Hey, old man..! If you have some trick up your sleeve, now would be time to use it!!”

“That’s not the way this world works, young one… the only one who can change the tide of this battle— in this world— is—”

As Phoebe continued her assault, John stepped in the way of the attack, taking a life or death gamble. Following the worlds of the man who saved him, who risked his life for him, and the coincidences that may or may not have been miracles, he threw himself into the center of the battle.

“—is me, right, old man?”

A smirk was drawn across John’s face as rain suddenly began to pick up. Phoebe and the man were stunned.

“It’s Raphael… That aside— the hell did you do, boy?

Raphael looked up as droplets hit his face, and fell quickly. It couldn’t have been some miracle that they fell this fast and put out a fire. There was a force actively working against Phoebe. “Damn it!!” Phoebe yelled. “Why is it always you?! Why can’t I hit you?!”

John didn’t know what to say. “…” Phoebe clenched her fists, starting a fire that was instantly put out.

“You did it once and you weren’t satisfied, huh? So you had to go and do it twice, is that it?!!” Phoebe bit her lip in anger, and blood dripped from the spot.

“Tch.. why were you even here in the first place? It's your fault you messed with someone you didn’t even know.”

“I hadn’t planned on attacking you first, but I decided to take the opportunity…”

“You’d kill someone that easily?!”

“…”

“That’s low… anyway, you’re in no situation to continue the fight now, right? Your fire isn’t working.”

Phoebe knew John was right. With the rain, her fire would constantly be put out, and on top of that it was two versus one. Her chances of winning had plummeted greatly. “You guys win.” she declared. “For now.” She turned around and began to run off into the jungle. Raphael gathered his breath, and spoke. “What is your name, boy?”

“Uh, John.”

“I told you my name earlier. I’ll be your mentor.”

“Deciding that so soon… but—”

“Boy, it is less like I will be your mentor, and much more like I must be your mentor. The details will be explained when we are certain we are out of danger.”

“Wait, wait. You just chucked out two confusing things. What do you mean you must?! And also, why was that girl after you?!”

Raphael coughed and sheathed his sword before continuing.

“Phoebe hasn’t always acted like that.” John noticed he pointed at him as if he was saying You’ve something to do with this. Raphael dismissed it with, “Come. We will talk when we have been assured we are safe.”

* * *

After some walking, they settled in a run-down cabin, and Raphael sat down on a material that felt like cotton. There was only one seat in the entire house, so John just sat on the floor and ate what strange food Raphael gave to him. Raphael explained that what he gave John was a delicacy in this world, and it shocked him that John didn’t recognize it.

“So, Raphael.. explain. About having to be my mentor, you know.”

“…”

“Well?”

“You can’t change fate, it’s that simple. If you’re assigned a role, you fulfill it. We call that a trope here.”

If that word carries the same meaning as the trope I’m familiar with, it would make a little sense why he’d always talk about being forced to do things…

“Wait, so, if you’re bound by this “Mentor” trope, are you saying you can’t escape a fate where your death is certain?”

Raphael couldn’t answer.

No, he chose not to.

“Well, I’ll find a way.. I promise—!! I’ll find a way to save you!”

“…”

“I’ll get strong and save everyone! I won’t let the world decide your life for you—!!”

“Boy.”

“...I’ll, I’ll–”

“Young boy.”

“…?”

“For me, give up. There is no such thing as a hero. And if such a thing was, that is not you.”

Raphael got out of his seat, and went outside. “With that in mind, though… Let’s begin your training.”

Raphael shut his eyes for a second, and John sighed. Halfway through his sigh, there was a sharp pain at his back and he tumbled to the floor. “Agh… what the hell—”

As he looked up, John barely had time to react because Raphael was imitating a second attack—

“Hnngh—!!” the man cried.

“That’s not gonna work. Didn’t you see? In this world, i’m—”

While John declared this, a smirk formed on his face and he grinned. Spreading out his arms, he was ready for the world to deflect this attack once more.

It didn’t.

“Ow… again? What’s going on? This worked earlier…”

“Figures. You can’t use that trope every time.”

“Huh?”

“That deflection of attacks and the miracles wasn’t pure luck. Seems like it only works sometimes.”

“Seriously? The only power I have is a life-saving gamble? That’s basically life as is!!”

“I don’t think it’s just that.”

John groaned. The power he thought could change this world was something that revolved around luck entirely. Maybe Raphael was right. I can’t change anything in this world.

“Raphael.”

“…”

“If I want to be that hero and save you, I have to understand this power I have…”

“That is not the point I was trying to make. What do you plan to—”

“I take back what I said. Train me.”

“You know you can’t prevent whatever comes my way, and yet—”

“No. It’s nothing like that. I’ve already made up my mind now. I’m still gonna try and be a hero. But if I can’t save you, and only someone else, then I’ll get strong enough to just do that.”

“…” Raphael felt a smile starting to form, but shut it down. “Very well. Catch some sleep. All this dillydallying and night has already fallen upon us. We’ll begin tomorrow.”

—

The three day training program.

It was a rigorous program picked out by Raphael that would make John a formidable force, and potentially master his powers. What they settled on was the fact that John’s trope gave him immunity to any attacks, though limited. They settled on the name…

…Plot Armor. When one’s existence is essential for the plot to continue. John felt as if his existence was of importance now, and he believed he would be the hero this world needed.

“With that out of the way, let’s begin sparring. If I hit you once, this lesson is over. You need to learn how to activate your ability at will.”