Flash Fire Read Online By T.J. Klune - Read Flash Fire(19) Online free

The hallways of the school were mostly empty. Nick had never been at school this late before, and the sounds of his footsteps echoed around him, causing him to flinch even as the walls vibrated with the music coming from the cafeteria.

A woman was walking toward him, her head bowed, dark hair hanging around her face, large sunglasses covering her eyes. She wore jeans and a thick coat, a large purse dangling off her shoulders. Who the hell wore sunglasses indoors at night? She must have been one of the chaperones, on her way back from the restroom.

He stopped where one hallway intersected with another, head swiveling. Looking left, he saw a pair of doors that led to the back fields of the school. Two people stood in front of the doors, their backs to Nick. He couldn’t see what they were doing, but they weren’t Dad, so he looked right.

There, at the other end of the hall, was Dad.

He was pacing back and forth, shoulders stiff, phone still pressed against his ear. Nick hurried toward him, shoes squeaking along the linoleum.

A few other kids were standing near a row of lockers, the girls talking excitedly, the boys pretending to be cool and aloof with their suit coats hanging over one shoulder, chests puffed out like they were preening show dogs. None of them paid Nick any attention as he rushed by.

Dad raised his head at the sound of Nick’s approach. The blood drained from his face. He looked as if he were going to say something, but whoever was on the other end of the phone distracted him. “I get that, Rook, but we can’t be too careful. I need you to call Cap, you hear me? Call Cap and tell him—”

“Dad?” Nick asked, out of breath as he stopped in front of his father.

Dad held up a hand. “I know, Rook. But I don’t think there’s much we can do about it now. It’s out of our jurisdiction. The police upstate will have to handle it until we get some idea of what he’s planning. Right. Right. Keep me in the loop. I’m going to stick around here, just to be safe. I don’t think he’ll show his face, but it’s better that we prepare.”

Prepare for what? Whatever it was, it didn’t sound good.

Dad said, “Right. Talk soon. No, don’t worry about it. I’m glad you called. I’ll—” The phone beeped against Dad’s ear, and he frowned as he looked at the screen. “That’s … weird. I lost service. What the—” He shoved the phone in his pocket, shaking his head, scowl deepening. “Nick, what are you doing out here? Go back inside with your friends.”

“What happened?” Nick asked.

Dad hesitated. Nick could almost see the way his mind worked and the moment he decided to tell Nick some version of the truth. “It’s … probably nothing, okay? And there’s nothing we can do about it tonight, so go back inside.”

Nick glared at him. “Would you tell me?”

“Kid, I—”

“We talked about this, remember? No more secrets.”

Dad sighed, shaking his head. He looked exhausted, as if he’d aged years in the last ten minutes. “It’s Owen. He broke out of the hospital earlier tonight. I don’t know specifics because it’s still early, but Rook was at the precinct when the call came in. He hurt a few people on his way out. One of the hospital staff, they … it doesn’t look like they’re going to make it.”

No, no, no—“Burke,” Nick choked out. “It was Simon Burke who—”

Dad shook his head. “That’s what I asked, but no one knows anything right now. Maybe he had something to do with it, but do you really think Owen would want anything to do with his father after what he did?”

Nick couldn’t breathe. His vision began to narrow as he gagged, bending over and clutching his waist. Bile rose in the back of his throat, acidic and hot. His brain shorted out, a synapse misfiring in an electrical snarl.

A hand on his back, strong and warm, rubbing up and down. “You’re okay,” he heard a voice say near his ear. “I’ve got you. Breathe, Nicky. Just breathe. In. In, kid. There you go—and—hold. One, two, three. Out. One, two, three. Again. Yeah, good. In—hold it—and out. Breathe with me. Big breaths. You got this.”

Nick gasped, sucking in air. His lungs expanded painfully, but his head started to clear, the fog dissipating slightly. “H-how did this happen?”

“I don’t know,” Dad said again. “He was supposed to be under constant watch. All those lights.” He paused. “Did Owen ever use his powers without the benefit of the pills?”

Nick shook his head, sweat trickling down his cheek. “He couldn’t. It was only because of the pills that he could do what he did. Why?”

“Because of the shadows,” Dad said quietly, still rubbing Nick’s back. “Rook said he was told that Owen used shadows to—it doesn’t matter. We’ll figure it out. Regardless, there’s no way Owen could get back here tonight.”

“Bullshit,” Nick spat. “If he has his powers again, that means he can fly. For all we know, he’s on his way here right now. We have to tell the others.”

“Sure, Nicky. Yeah, we’ll do that, okay? Let’s take a moment to—”

“Hello, Nick!”

Nick and his father spun around, looking down the hall from where the greeting had come.

The group of kids still stood against the lockers, but they hadn’t been the ones to call out. They were looking further down the hall, toward the doors. The doors where two people stood, the same two people Nick had noticed when he’d come from the cafeteria.

A woman faced them, familiar even at a distance, hand raised in greeting as if she were the one who’d called out Nick’s name. Crouched next to her, facing the doors, was a man, hand running along the seams between the two doors, leaving a thick coat of ice, freezing the doors together.

“Oh no,” Nick whispered.

The twins. Christian and Christina.

Smoke and Ice.

Mr. Burke sends his regards.

Dad took a step toward them. “You there! Are you students here? What are you doing to the doors?”

Ice rose to his feet, joining Smoke. They wore matching suits, black with white dress shirts. Smoke’s tie was a dark gray, and Ice’s was blue. Smoke smiled wickedly as she cocked her head. “It’s nice to see you again, Nick.”

“Yes,” Ice said. “So very nice.”

Dad took another step toward them. “I don’t know how you think you know my son, but I—I won’t—” He stopped. “Where have I seen you before?”

Ice and Smoke exchanged a look before they both laughed, a flat, dull sound that echoed along the hallway. “Familiar?” Smoke asked.

“Yes,” Ice said. “We are familiar, Aaron Bell. Very familiar.”

“What’s going on?” one of the boys at the lockers asked. “Is this part of the dance? I didn’t know there was going to be a show too.” He elbowed his friend. “Look at them.”

His friend—a douchebro if there ever was one—laughed. “Weird, right?” He pushed himself off the locker, puffing out his chest. “Hey, freaks! What’s wrong with you? Why are you talking like that?”

“Stop it, Micah,” one of the girls said, sounding annoyed. “Don’t be a dick. Nick’s dad is right there.”

“And?” Douchebro said. “What’s he gonna do?”

“He’s a cop.”

Douchebro turned around, eyes wide. “Oh shit. The weed isn’t mine! Please don’t call my parents. Cornell will rescind my acceptance!”

“Get out of here,” Nick snarled at them. “Tell everyone they have to get out of the school while they can!”

They went, the boys running as quick as they could, leaving their dates behind. One of the girls sighed irritably before motioning her friend to follow. She glanced at Ice and Smoke before looking at Nick and his dad. Nick thought she was going to say something else, but her friend pulled her along, back toward the cafeteria.

Ice and Smoke followed their exit, barely blinking. “Children,” Ice said. “I like the children.”

“No,” Smoke said sharply. “Focus. We are here for the boy.”

“What boy?” Dad asked.

Ice and Smoke snapped their heads toward Nick and his father. Without thinking, Nick took a step back. “Dad?”

“You shouldn’t be here,” Dad barked. “This is school grounds. You aren’t welcome … here … what did you do to the door? Is that ice?”

“It is,” Ice said. “Door’s frozen. Like all the other doors. There is no escape. For you. For the boy.”

“Dad!”

Dad looked back at Nick, frowning. “What, Nick? I’m trying to—”

“That’s them!” Nick cried. “That’s Smoke and Ice! They’re working with Burke!”

Dad didn’t hesitate. He went for his sidearm, cursing when he realized he didn’t have it. He’d left it at home. It wasn’t allowed in school, especially since he was off duty. Nick had watched as he’d stored it in the gun safe earlier that afternoon before they’d left the house. Instead, he moved in front of Nick, shielding him. Nick gripped his father’s coat, hanging on for dear life, breath rattling in his chest.

“You can’t have him,” Dad snapped. “This is my kid. You want him, you’ll have to go through me. And I promise you it’ll be the last thing you do.”

“Challenge,” Smoke said, a small smile forming on her face. “We have been offered a challenge.”

“We accept,” Ice said. “We will go through you, Aaron Bell. You are expendable. And then we will have the boy. Pyro Storm will have no choice but to reveal himself. He will come, and we will be waiting.”

They raised their hands in unison, palms facing Nick and Dad. Their fingers twitched. Behind them, Nick thought he saw someone peer around the corner. He only saw her for a moment. The woman he’d passed in the hallway. Dark hair. Sunglasses. The sunglasses were now sitting on top of her head, and in her hands, she held what looked like a small camera, pointed in their direction.

Rage like he’d never experienced before flooded his entire body, and he snarled, “Holy shit, you are the goddamn worst, Rebecca Fire—”

“Run!” Dad shouted as he spun on his heels. He grabbed Nick by the wrist, jerking him off his feet as he took off, running away from Smoke and Ice. Nick stumbled, looking back over his shoulder to see black clouds beginning to billow around Smoke’s hands, ice crystalizing out of the air and floating in sharp spikes above Ice’s head. Dad pulled Nick around the corner just as the spikes were hurtled toward them. One hit a row of lockers, denting the metal as the spike shattered. Another embedded itself into the wall, the plaster cracking.

Dad’s grip tightened on Nick’s arm to the point where Nick thought he’d be bruised if they survived this. “We have to lead them out of the school!” Nick cried. “Away from everyone else!”

Dad whipped his head back. “Where?”

Nick took the lead, Dad still holding onto him. The music still thumped through the walls, the bass heavy. Nick tore through the school, Dad close on his heels. They ran past darkened classrooms, past stairs that led to the second floor. Nick gave brief thought to getting the higher ground but dismissed it. He couldn’t take the chance of getting trapped. He led Dad toward a side entrance the teachers used to access the parking lot.

“Work,” he muttered to himself. “Goddammit, why don’t you work?” He shook his free hand, trying to get his powers to do something. He squawked when Dad shoved his head down, another ice spike flying over his head and colliding with the wall in front of them. Particles of ice hit Nick’s face as they rounded the corner. His teeth chattered at the sudden cold.

Ahead, the pair of double doors. The windows showed the parking lot outside, bathed in an angry shade of yellow-orange from the sodium arc lights that lined the lot.

“Yes!” Nick cried, running full tilt toward the doors. “Yes! Screw you, assholes! You can’t—dammit!”

The doors were frozen shut, the ice thick over the handles and locks. Nick slammed into them, hoping the ice would shatter. The doors barely budged.

Trapped. They were trapped.

Dad let Nick go, hurrying toward the nearest interior door, but it was locked. He took two steps back before lifting his leg and slamming the bottom of his foot against the door. It rattled in its frame but didn’t open.

A cloud of black smoke billowed around the corner before reforming into Smoke. Ice appeared at her side, eyes glittering darkly. “Run, run, run,” he said. “I do like it when they run.” His smile stretched so wide Nick thought his face would tear in half.

“There,” Smoke said. “Nowhere else to go. You tried, Aaron Bell. But we will have the boy. Pyro Storm will reveal himself. And then everyone will see who they both truly are.”

Dad stepped in front of Nick once more. “I told you, you aren’t going to touch him. I don’t need powers to kick your asses.”

“No?” Ice said. “Let us show you otherwise.”

The air above Ice’s head began to shift, hazy and snapping. Ice crystals appeared, gathering together, the temperature dropping around them. The particles swirled, forming the biggest spike of ice Nick had ever seen. It was at least four feet long, the end needle-sharp and aimed directly at them.

Rebecca Firestone skidded to a halt behind them, camera still pointed in their direction. Her cheeks were flushed, her wig sitting lopsided on her head.

“Help us!” Nick shouted at her.

“I can’t!” she called back. “I’m a reporter, I can’t get involved.”

“Oh my god,” Nick muttered. “I hate her so much.”

“Bigger things to worry about, kid,” Dad growled, never looking away from Smoke and Ice.

“Mr. Burke regrets that it has come to this,” Ice said as his eyes slid unfocused, the spike hovering above his head as it grew even larger. “But you took from him, Nicholas. And now he will take from you. Say goodbye to your father.”

Ice jerked his head, the spike quivering before hurtling toward them. Time slowed down around Nick, each second five beats of his heart. He watched as the spike grew bigger and bigger the closer it got, the sharp point glistening. Dad turned, but not away. Never away. He wrapped his entire body around Nick, clutching him tightly, Nick’s face against his shoulder, eyes burning.

Shielding him. His father was shielding him. “I love you,” Dad whispered in his ear. “Yesterday. Today. Tomorrow. I’ll love you forever.”

Mom laughing as the wind blew through her hair, the salt from the ocean thick on their tongues.

Nick between them, little Nick learning to walk, little Nick holding onto both their hands, demanding that they swing him up. They did.

The phone ringing, Dad on the other end saying Nick, oh my god, she’s gone, she’s gone.

Dad coming into his room late at night, Nick screaming in his sleep, a nightmare where she reached for him and he couldn’t get to her. “You’re all right,” Dad whispered as his son sobbed against his chest. “I’ve got you.”

Mom, dancing in the kitchen, an old song playing on the radio. “Nicky!” she cried happily when she saw him watching her. “Come sing with me.” He went, of course.

The three of them walking through the city, Nick telling them a story that went on and on and on, but no one was telling him to shut up, no one was telling him to stop talking. More, kid, tell us everything.

Dad standing next to him, the lighthouse in the distance, an urn clutched between them.

All I ever wanted was to keep you safe.

“No.”

Nick lifted his head as he spoke, looking over Dad’s shoulder, the knot in his head and chest untangling with ease, the strands sliding loose as he pulled and pulled and pulled. And there, in his chaos, a spark, burning brightly.

The ice spike stopped. Less than a foot away from Dad’s back, the sharp point glistened. A drop of water fell from the tip, landing with a splash on the floor. Nick breathed in and Nick breathed out, and there, in his head, a tremendous pressure, deliciously painful. He grasped onto it, gritting his teeth against the heavy wave of hurt that flooded his head. But he was bigger than it was, stronger. He hadn’t always been, but he was now. The pressure increased, and he pushed against it. It rippled like the surface of a lake. Resistant, but not so much that he couldn’t force his way into it, to sink beneath the surface and submerge himself in all of it.

So that’s what he did.

It closed up and over his head.

He should’ve drowned.

He didn’t.

He was alive, alive, the spark in his head the beginning of a great fire. He didn’t know how he hadn’t seen it before. He was—

“In control,” he whispered, and with all his might, he pushed.

The ice spike exploded with a fierce crack, the shards hitting the floor and bouncing away. Nick gently pushed his father to the side, Dad uncurling himself, the lines on his face smoothing out when he realized he hadn’t been run through by the spike. He turned slowly as Nick moved around him.

Smoke and Ice watched Nick, and for the first time, they looked … unsure. No fear—not yet—but they hadn’t expected Nick to be able to do what he’d done.

Good. They’d underestimated him. It would be their undoing.

“I knew it,” Rebecca Firestone breathed. “I goddamn knew it! You’re an Extraordinary too. You’re—”

“You shouldn’t have tried to hurt my dad,” Nick said in a low voice. He glanced at the rows of lockers lining the hallway and pushed against the spark. The doors began to rattle, the metal clanging loudly. The rattling moved swiftly down the hallway until all the locker doors were bouncing, bouncing, and there was the fear. It started with Smoke, her eyes widening as she took a step back. Ice was frowning; he didn’t yet understand what was happening. He raised his hands again, as if to send another spike their way.

“Don’t,” Nick warned.

But Ice didn’t listen. His fingers twitched, ice forming in the air above him once again.

Nick pushed again.

The locker doors squealed as they tore from their hinges, metal creaking and groaning. Ice cried out when one of the doors slammed into his hip, almost knocking him off his feet. The lights in the hallway began to flicker as Ice was struck by another door, and then another, this last one drawing blood from the back of his hand, a cut that sprayed droplets against the wall.

Smoke dissipated, turning into a voluminous black cloud as the locker doors flew through her, hitting Ice again and again. Except now, the doors didn’t bounce off Ice. No, they began to wrap around him, molding against his body. Two hit his legs, the metal shrieking as the doors folded around his feet and ankles, holding him in place. More doors crashed into his legs, then his waist, arms, pinning them to his sides. Ice cried out as the metal dug in, but Nick didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop. He didn’t want to stop. One night. They couldn’t even have one night where they weren’t running or screaming or fighting for their lives.

It would be easy, Nick knew. So easy. All he had to do was wrap one of the locker doors around Ice’s face and cut off his air. The metal would squeeze around Ice’s head, and he’d be terrified, begging Nick to stop, please, stop, please, I don’t want to die. Nick wouldn’t listen. He wouldn’t listen because this man, these people, had tried to hurt Seth. They had tried to hurt Miss Conduct and TK. They’d tried to kill his father.

And there, standing behind them, looking as scared as he’d ever seen her, was Rebecca Firestone, somehow still recording. He could finish her too. She’d made Seth’s life miserable. She’d spread lies about the both of them. She was here, which meant she knew something. Maybe she was working with Burke. Maybe she was just stalking Nick. It didn’t matter. If he took care of Smoke and Ice, he could handle Rebecca Firestone.

The lights flickered violently, the entire hallway rumbling, the floor cracking as Smoke’s arms re-formed, pulling against the metal wrapping around Ice. Another door slammed against Ice’s chest, crumpling and molding until it looked like he was wearing a metal straitjacket. Only his head was left. One more door. One more door and it would all be over for him. Then Nick would move on to Smoke, and he would be a hero. Rebecca Firestone had the footage, and though she looked like she was about to run, Nick could catch her. Stop her. Make her feel every ounce of suffering she’d brought down on his family, and then, oh, and then, he’d find Simon Burke. He would find him and make him pay for everything he’d done. For all his lies, for saying the name of Nick’s mother like he had any right to, and when he begged for Nick to spare him, Nick would laugh in his goddamn face, and—

“Look at me,” a voice said through the storm, through the sounds of the hallway breaking apart around them. “Look at me, kid. Nick.”

Familiar hands on his face, rough and warm and kind, thumbs rubbing against his cheeks. Nick blinked slowly as he broke through the surface, as the spark in his hands burned and burned and burned.

Dad said, “No, Nicky. No, no. That’s enough. No more. Look at me. Look at me, Nick. I’m here. I’m here with you. We’re okay, I promise.”

“Dad?” Nick whispered as his father came into focus, brow furrowed, the worry lines deep. He looked scared, but Nick couldn’t tell of what. Smoke? Ice? Nick himself? He didn’t know, but it was enough to startle him, as if waking from a vivid dream.

Dad nodded. “There you go. It’s all right.”

Nick breathed in and out, the pressure in his head lessening slightly, enough so that he could think. It’d been close. So close.

“Listen to me,” Dad said. “The ice broke on the doors. Go. Don’t call 911. I don’t know who’ll answer, and we can’t take that chance. Call Cap directly. But run, you hear me?”

Nick was already shaking his head, even before Dad finished. “No. I can’t leave my friends here. I can’t leave you here—”

Dad jostled him. “They’re coming for you, Nick. They want you and Pyro Storm, and I won’t—”

For years after, Nick would remember the exact look on his father’s face the moment a band of black smoke wrapped around Dad’s chest. Shock and disbelief and anger. The nightmares Nick would have—brutal. His father was ripped away from him, flying backward as he reached forward for Nick. It happened so quickly. One moment, Dad was inches away from Nick, and then he was gone, hurtling through the air toward Smoke, her arms extended like smoky tentacles. Ice fell to the floor at her side with a metallic thunk.

“DAD!” Nick screamed.

Black smoke wrapped around Dad’s mouth, cutting him off. He struggled—oh, how he struggled—but it was no use. The smoke that held him was too strong. For a moment, Nick flashed back to a bridge, to shadows rising around him, but it was lost in the storm in his head.

“No,” Smoke said, and she sounded furious. “Not another step. You move, and I will crush him. Do you want to see what your father’s insides look like?”

“Let him go,” Nick snarled, the lights flickering again, the hallway rumbling.

“Strong,” Smoke said, looking up at the lights. “He knew you’d be strong. But this is more. Mr. Burke will help you. Come—come with us. Let him show you the way. If you do, your father will be safe. If you do not, he will die. Your friends will die. Everyone at this school will die. It will be your fault.”

“Kiss my damn ass,” Nick growled, and reached for a small, red-and-white box embedded in the wall. He grabbed the handle, pulling it as hard as he could. It slid down with an audible snap. The second before the alarm blared, Nick, ever the badass, said the greatest mic drop in superhero history, in his most humble of opinions. “Where there’s smoke, there’s fire.”

The alarm shrieked. The sound caught Smoke off guard. The column holding Dad loosened and he slipped toward the ground, the tips of his shoes scraping the floor. “Nick, goddammit, run!” Dad cried. Before he could say more, the band tightened around him again, covering him almost completely. Smoke pointed her other hand toward Ice, black clouds falling from her palm, landing on top of Ice and lifting him up off the floor, still surrounded by metal. Ice glared at Nick as he rose, floating next to Smoke.

Screams from the cafeteria as the dance music cut off. Startled, Nick jerked his head toward the sound.

Smoke used the distraction to turn and run back down the hall, Ice and Dad floating after her, the black clouds around them shifting angrily. Rebecca Firestone pressed her body flat against the wall, face screwed up in fear. They ignored her. Nick screamed for his father, but they had already rounded the corner, out of sight, leaving Nick standing alone in the ruined hallway, alarm blaring, lights flashing, rows of lockers bent and hanging at odd angles off the walls.

He glanced back over his shoulder. The ice covering the door had shattered. He could go. Do what Dad said. Call Cap. Call for help. It would be safer. It would be smarter.

Except this was Dad.

And Seth.

Gibby.

Jazz.

Their parents.

Mateo too.

Heroes didn’t run away. They didn’t leave their people behind. He was terrified, but it didn’t feel important.

What was important was the way they took care of each other, had each other’s backs no matter what. They were a team. They were a lighthouse, a beacon in the dark.

He turned away from the doors and took off down the hall where Smoke had disappeared with Dad and Ice, toward the sound of screams. As he ran, he found the name on his phone he was looking for and hit the call button, ready to bring in the cavalry.

The phone beeped in his ear. He pulled it away, looking at it in horror as he skidded to a stop. He had no service. He’d always had service in school, but now? No bars. It was useless.

He took off again, about to put his phone back in his pocket when it was knocked from his hands as he collided with a group of people running in the opposite direction.

Boys and girls, all dressed to the nines, their faces bloodless and panicked. Nick was shoved against the wall as his phone fell to the ground. It landed a few feet away, but before Nick could grab it, a tall boy stepped on it as he fled. The screen went black as it broke, pieces chipping off as it was kicked away.

Nick groaned. He’d just gotten that damn phone.

He tried to push himself up but was knocked back by the rushing crowd. He pressed his hands flat against the wall, ready to do what he had to in order to get to his father, when a hand wrapped around his wrist, pulling him up. He was about to thank the person when he saw who it was, and the words turned to dust and blew away.

Rebecca Firestone grinned at him, chest heaving. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes sparkling. She must have chased after him down the hall. “I guess that makes us even.”

Nick glared at her. “Are you out of your damn mind? Get the hell out of here with that nonsense, you hack. I saved you from falling off a bridge. We’re not close to even. What are you doing here?”

“Following a story,” she said, pushing a button on her camera before pointing it in Nick’s face. “Care to explain what happened in the hallway? Quite a display of powers. When did they manifest? Is it telekinesis?”

“If you don’t get that camera out of my face, I’m going to shove it up your—”

More screams from the cafeteria. Nick pushed by Rebecca Firestone, wishing that she’d be forced out with the crowd of people trying to flee. Whatever was happening, he hoped the fire alarm had given people some warning. As he pushed his way through the tide rushing against him, he looked for his team. No sign of any of them.

He winced as people crashed into him, elbowing him, hitting him in the chest, face, and stomach. He kept his head down as he continued, trying to yell above the noise for everyone to get out of his way.

Eventually, he made it to the doors that led to the cafeteria. They hung on their hinges. People stampeded through the doorway, practically climbing on top of each other. A girl fell to her knees, her dress tearing. Her cheek had a smear of blood on it, and Nick bent low, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her up. She gasped as he brought her to her feet. “Go!” Nick shouted at her. “Get out of here!”

She nodded and ran, never looking back.

Nick rushed into the cafeteria and stopped dead in his tracks. Rebecca Firestone crashed into his back, cursing.

Groups of students were huddled together against the walls, high schoolers clinging to each other as they looked on in horror.

Teachers and other chaperones stood in front of them, shielding them as best they could. The ones closest to the doors were shepherding people through, but most were cut off, trapped. The adults gathered the students close, holding them together.

And there, standing in the middle of the cafeteria, eyes blazing, was Pyro Storm.

He wore a costume Nick had never seen before: sleeker, tighter. It was black with red piping that ran up the sides of his legs and chest. He didn’t have a cape, but a familiar flame symbol sat in the middle of his chest. His helmet was smoother, the lenses glowing a fierce shade of red that looked like fire. He bared his teeth, and he glanced at Nick rushing toward him, expression softening briefly.

“Where the hell did you get that?” Nick demanded breathlessly as he came to a stop in front of Pyro Storm, briefly ignoring the thundering chaos happening around them. “And when did you have time to change?”

“Kept it hidden from you at school,” Pyro Storm growled, gaze still fixed upward. “Someone told me that sequels needed new costumes, so I’ve been waiting for the right moment to debut it.”

“Where’s—”

“Look out!” Pyro Storm shouted, shoving Nick. It felt like Nick had been hit by a truck as he flew back and hit the floor. Right where he’d been standing, a spike hit the ground, embedding itself into the floor, the ice glistening as water dripped from it.

Nick looked up.

Smoke and Ice floated near the ceiling. The metal that had covered Ice had fallen away, and he wasn’t smiling. His face twisted in anger as he formed more spikes around his head. And there was Dad, pinned to the wall near the ceiling, dozens of feet above the floor, covered in a roiling black cloud. He struggled to no avail.

Hands gripped Nick’s arms, pulling him up. Nick panicked and tried to pull away until he heard Gibby say, “Nick, stop, it’s us!”

He looked around to see that Jazz and Gibby were supporting him. Gibby’s suit coat was gone and her bow tie hung in tatters, the outer layer of lace on Jazz’s dress had been torn away, but otherwise, they appeared unharmed. Furious, but unharmed.

“What the hell is going on?” Gibby demanded.

“Assholes,” Nick snapped. “They’re trying to unmask Seth.”

People screamed when a heavy block of ice smashed into the ground, causing Pyro Storm to vault away before getting flattened. “Is that Rebecca Firestone?” Jazz demanded. “What is she doing here?”

“Forget her,” Nick said. “My powers are on. I have to help—”

“Go,” Gibby said. “If they’re after you, we’ll get everyone out and come back and help. Distract them.”

Nick nodded. “Get everyone through the doors to the teacher parking lot. They should still be open. Don’t do anything stupid. Stay low, stay hidden. Help is on the way.”

“On it,” Jazz said. “We’ll—”

“Jasmine!” Miles roared.

Nick lifted his head in time to see a column of black smoke hurtling toward them. He didn’t have time to react when Jazz shoved them both with surprising strength, causing him and Gibby to stumble back, Gibby grunting as the smoke sliced through the air where they’d just stood, Jazz on the other side, a ferocious snarl on her lips. Before Nick could recover, the smoke snapped back and swung against his chest, knocking him off his feet. He slammed into a wall, the back of his head causing the plaster to crack. He gasped, dazed, lights flashing before his eyes. The smoke spread to his arms and legs, lifting him up off the floor, holding him in place. He tried to push against it, but it was too heavy.

Smoke appeared in front of him, a thin smile on her face. She wasn’t corporeal, more smoke than human, and she collapsed and re-formed in front of him until her face was inches from Nick’s own.

“Hello,” she whispered. “You’re so much stronger than he expects. Good. He will need you. And you will let him have you. But first—you hurt my brother. And now I will hurt you.”

Nick tensed as he waited for the smoke to tighten around him, to crush his bones, but the moment never came.

Smoke laughed at the expression on his face. “Not you.” She spun slowly, raising her head upward. “Him.”

Dad cried out as the smoke constricted around him. His head rocked back, the cords in his neck sticking out. His eyes were bulging, and Nick screamed.

Then a voice rang out, fierce and strong. “Bitch, I’m trying to work here, and you think you can come in and stop me from getting paid? You’re in for the shock of your whole damn life. And yes, that’s a catchphrase, so kiss my fantastic ass.”

Smoke’s entire body began to seize as bright blue electricity slammed into her, arcing over her arms and legs and chest. The smoke holding Nick collapsed, causing him to slide to the floor. He landed on his feet, looking up to see the smoke holding Dad beginning to dissipate. Nick took off at a run, tearing toward his father, passing by Mateo, the only thing hiding his identity being the mask around his eyes. He snarled as electricity snapped around Smoke, her limbs extended, fingers flexed and trembling.

The smoke holding Dad lessened even more, and he fell a few feet before stopping, still far above the ground. If he fell all the way down, at the very least he’d be seriously hurt, but if he landed wrong, he could die.

He passed Pyro Storm, the heat from his fire blowing over Nick’s skin. Pyro Storm was locked in battle with Ice, the villain moving quickly, blocking the fireballs with walls of white. Nick heard Pyro Storm shout his name, but he ignored it, lost in a wave of panic bowling over him as more of the smoke holding Dad disappeared, causing him to plummet toward the ground.

“No!” Nick shouted, and the pressure in his head increased to the point where he thought it was about to explode. He pushed and felt the spark grow as bright as the sun. He raised his hands, hoping against hope that his powers wouldn’t fail him, that he’d be the hero his father needed.

Except he never made it.

A column of ice exploded from the ground. He couldn’t stop in time and skidded into it, the impact jarring, pain igniting in his shoulder. The spark dimmed, and he cried out in horror as the last of the smoke disappeared.

Dad fell. He didn’t make a sound.

But Trey and Miles and Bob did, with Trey shouting, “I’ve got him!”; Miles bellowing, “You better not be as heavy as you look!”; and Bob muttering, “I’m too old for this shit.” They appeared underneath Dad and he landed on top of them, causing them all to hit the floor. Bob pushed himself onto his hands and knees as Ice sent a wave of hundreds of tiny spikes toward Pyro Storm, causing him to flip away to avoid being impaled. Ice turned toward the fallen men, hovering above them. Rebecca Firestone stood in a corner, hunched low over her camera, pointing it toward the dazed men.

“Foolish,” Ice said mildly. “And now you will suffer because of it.”

He raised his hands.

His fingers trembled.

“You’ll have to go through us first,” a voice said, and then Martha appeared, hands on her hips. Next to her stood Aysha and Joanna, both holding what looked like butter knives from the tables. In front of them were Gibby and Jazz, Gibby’s hands curled into fists, Jazz barefoot, her high heels in her hands, wielding them like weapons. All in all, not the best-outfitted group, but if Nick was facing them, he’d be terrified. If looks could kill, Ice would already be straight-up murdered.

But since he apparently didn’t know who he was dealing with, he said, “You are nothing. I will go through you. Right through all of—”

A high heel bounced off his forehead with an audible thunk, the skin splitting, blood dribbling down to the bridge of his nose. He reached up and touched his face, his hand coming away wet with a red smear.

Jazz squinted up at him. “Are you serious? No wonder the patriarchy failed. You always underestimate what women are capable of. Sucks to be you.” She raised her arm, the other shoe gripped tight in her hand. Ice reared back. Nick didn’t blame him; he’d never seen Jazz look so hardcore before.

But it was all an act, the distraction they needed. Ice, his attention so focused on the group of women and the men they shielded, didn’t see Pyro Storm rising behind him. Fire bloomed around Pyro Storm, the air crackling. Raising his hands, Pyro Storm gathered the fire in a swirling ball before he hurled it at Ice. At the last second, Ice turned his head, eyes widening.

Nick was about to throw his hands up in victory when Ice caught the fireball. The flames froze in a blue sheen of frozen particles between his hands.

“Oh shit,” Pyro Storm breathed, and then Ice hurled the ball back at him. Pyro Storm managed to dodge just in time, the ball exploding on the ground, ice sliding along the floor. A piece bounced against Nick’s shoe, and he looked down at it as the other people still trapped in the cafeteria screamed. He glanced toward the closest group, stunned to see Rebecca Firestone standing in front of them. For a moment, he thought he’d gotten her all wrong and that she was protecting them. But then he saw her pointing the camera in their faces, going for extreme close-ups of their fear, and Nick knew—even now, as he was fighting literal villains—she was the most terrible human being in existence.

A cry came from behind him. He whirled around to see a column of smoke slamming into Mateo, an arc of electricity shooting up toward the ceiling, striking the lights. The bulbs shattered, glass and sparks raining down everywhere. A section of the ceiling holding up prom banners—thin metal struts that crisscrossed—broke off. Nick covered his head with his hands and bent over, trying to make himself as small as possible. He closed his eyes, sure he was about to be crushed, and he felt his mind twist, the sensation filled with a mix of pain and pleasure at the same time, and he loved it, he loved the way it made him feel, the way it warmed him from the inside out, the way it—

He opened one eye.

He wasn’t dead.

He opened the other and looked up.

Glass and metal and dozens of sparks swirled above his head like a field of stars. He reached up and touched one of the sparks. He hissed when it singed his finger. He pulled his hand away, shaking it out. He swayed his head from side to side, choking on a laugh when the glass and metal and sparks swayed with him.

He turned slowly toward Smoke. He grinned at her. He puffed out his chest, put his fists on his hips, and said (in a ridiculously deep voice), “It’s time to take out the trash.” Rebecca Firestone better have gotten that on film because he was going to rewatch the shit out of it.

“Nicky, no,” Gibby shouted.

“Nicky, yes,” he growled, like a badass.

And then he moved.

He ran for Smoke, now solid. The sparks and glass swirled furiously, attaching to the metal struts, causing them to glow and glitter. Mateo’s eyes widened as he saw Nick coming and raised his own hands, electricity snarling across his fingers. Nick jerked his head, sending the ember-hot struts flying toward Smoke. As they hurtled toward her, electricity flew from Mateo’s fingertips, the snap and snarl of blue light racing next to the struts. If their aim was true, they’d clip her, not kill her, which would hopefully be enough to give them the upper hand.

But her body turned to smoke, and the struts and arcing electricity flew right through her, metal quivering as they hit the wall in a shower of sparks, the electricity snapping into nothing.

Nick tried to stop, but the floor was wet with melting ice. He slid into Smoke right as she became corporeal. He bounced off her, but before he could fall to the ground, she wrapped a hand around his throat, lifting him up, his feet kicking into empty air. She raised him above her as he choked, her fingers digging in as he slapped at her arm, trying to get her to let him go. No use.

“You,” she said, mouth twisted in a sneer. “I have had enough of you.”

“Feeling is mutual,” Nick managed to say. Her grip tightened, cutting off his air. Inky-black splotches began to filter into Nick’s vision, and he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe—

With a yell, Gibby appeared behind Smoke, running toward them. When she was still six feet away, she leapt, hands clasped above her head in one fist, bringing them down to smash Smoke’s head. Which would have been epic as all hell, except before the impact hit, Smoke vanished in a black cloud, causing Gibby’s hands to smash into Nick’s shoulder as she collided with his chest, knocking them both to the ground. Gibby landed partially on Nick, who blinked slowly up at the ceiling.

Smoke re-formed above them. Her expression was pinched as she said, “I hate children.”

And then she screamed, whirling around, slapping at her back. Behind her, Jazz stood, lowering her hand, hair fluttering around her face. Sticking out of the middle of Smoke’s back was one of Jazz’s heels, the tip embedded in her skin.

“It’s about time I got to stab something,” Jazz snapped, helping Gibby up as Smoke fell to her knees. “Try that again, and the next shoe goes in your damn eye.”

Nick gasped when Pyro Storm crashed down next to him, rolling violently, costume torn on his shoulders and chest, drops of blood leaving a red smear on the ground. He landed on his stomach, grunting as he pressed his hands and feet flat against the ground before pushing up, legs kicking out as he flipped back onto his feet. He swung his arm out in a flat arc, fire shooting from him, melting a block of ice hurling in their direction.

“Get up,” Pyro Storm spat, grabbing Nick by the arm. Dizzy, Nick clung to Pyro Storm, their faces inches apart. They breathed the same air, in and out, in and out, and if they were going to die, if these were going to be their last moments on earth, Nick wasn’t going to waste them.

He said, “Dude, I lo—Look out!”

Nick shoved Pyro Storm as hard as he could. The Extraordinary fell back, a sheet of ice flying between them, missing both of them by inches. Nick was about to rush back toward Pyro Storm when hands grabbed his shoulders, turning him around.

Smoke grinned at him. “Hello.” And then she punched him in the face.

Nick fell back, lip split, blood arcing as he collapsed backward to the floor, bright lights flashing before his eyes. He heard someone shout his name, but it was faint, negligible. He felt like he was underwater, moving slowly. His limbs were heavy. He wanted to close his eyes. Sleep, maybe. Forget about all of this. Everything hurt, but it was fading, fading. He closed his eyes.

And then a hand gripped his throat, jerking him up. He was spun around, his eyes unfocused. He coughed, blood dribbling down his chin.

“Oh,” Smoke whispered in his ear. “This is familiar, isn’t it? Yes. We’ve been here before.”

Nick’s vision began to clear. And when he saw what lay before him, his heart sank to his feet.

Pyro Storm, standing in the middle of the cafeteria, fire moving around him in hot waves.

Ice, on the other side of the cafeteria, in a similar position. Only instead of a stranger on the street, he held a girl, a kid from their school. She was crying, her makeup streaking. It took Nick a moment to place her. Megan. Megan Ross, the one in charge of the prom committee who had tried to get Nick to bring Pyro Storm.

“Let them go,” Pyro Storm commanded, though the implied threat was undermined when his voice broke. “Don’t hurt them.”

“We can,” Smoke said. Then, raising her voice, “Don’t move. You stop right there.”

Nick turned his head to see Trey and Miles holding Dad back, his face stricken as he demanded they let him go, let him go right now. Mateo stood in front of the largest group of kids, trying to herd them toward the exits. Jazz and Gibby were next to their parents. Martha was holding Bob up, wiping a trickle of blood off his forehead. Rebecca Firestone was still there, still recording, standing near the back of a smaller group of students.

His team.

They did good.

Whatever happened next, they did good.

(Except for Rebecca Firestone. She could suck it.)

“Who will you save?” Ice taunted him, shaking Megan, her head snapping back and forth.

“Oh, come on,” Nick snarled as he struggled against Smoke’s hold on him. “Are you freaking kidding me? You know what? Screw all of you. Hey, Pyro Storm!”

Seth turned toward him, tense and afraid. Nick didn’t need to see all of his face to know that. There was only one way to make this better.

Nick bared his teeth in a ferocious grin and said, “I love you.”

And oh, how Seth smiled. Not Pyro Storm. Not the Extraordinary. Seth. The boy from the swings. The boy who wore chinos and sweaters and bow ties. The boy who Nick thought hung the moon and the stars. The boy whose glasses got fogged up when it was too cold outside. The boy who Nick thought the world of, the boy who Nick would do anything for.

He said, “I love you too. Always.”

“Hell yeah, you do,” Nick said. He turned his gaze to Ice, glaring at him. “Let her go, you dumbass. She’s innocent!”

And then Megan stopped crying, as if a switch had flipped inside her. Something crossed her face, something that sent a chill down Nick’s spine. “Bullshit,” she spat. “I’m not that innocent.”

“Holy shit,” Nick breathed. “That was a catchph—”

Megan brought her leg up, her sparkly high heel catching the light. She brought it back against Ice’s shin. The Extraordinary bellowed in pain, letting Megan go. She stumbled forward as Pyro Storm shouted, “Nick! Backflip of Chaos!” He hurtled toward Ice as Megan fled.

You want to learn to fight, you’ve got to prepare for anything. Help won’t always come. How do you get free?

I don’t know.

Here, a weak point. Use enough force, and you might be able to get them to loosen their grip on you.

With a strength he didn’t know he was capable of, Nick brought his arm up and shoved it back as hard as he could, elbow smashing into Smoke’s side. Smoke exhaled explosively in his ear. Without giving her the chance to recover, Nick jerked his body forward as hard as he could, the muscles in his back protesting angrily. As he bent over, he grabbed the hand around his throat and yanked, lifting Smoke up and over Nick. It happened so quickly, she didn’t have time to react. She hit the ground hard, grunting as her breath was knocked from her chest. Nick cocked his fist back, ready to let it fly right in her stupid face. Never, ever hit a woman, unless she’s a villain controlling smoke, crashing a prom, and ruining what should have been a perfect night.

She vanished, and Nick punched the floor. He howled and jumped back, shaking his hand. “Son of a bitch. What the frick. Ow, ow, ow. Oh my god, I hate you so, so much. Why won’t you freaking die already?”

She re-formed in front of him and backhanded him across the face. Nick was thrown backwards, skidding through water until he stopped at the feet of Jazz and Gibby. They helped him up just in time for him to see Pyro Storm locked in battle with Ice, steam hissing.

And then they began to lose.

Ice grabbed Pyro Storm by the arms, spinning on his heels, flinging him away. Before Pyro Storm could course correct, Smoke was there, jumping up and bringing her elbow down on Pyro Storm’s chest, smashing him to the floor, which cracked upon impact. Nick screamed for him, struggling against the hands holding him back. Pyro Storm lifted his head, mouth bloodied, but then Smoke kicked him in the stomach. Pyro Storm curled in on himself, trying to make himself smaller, but Smoke continued to kick him over and over, Pyro Storm’s mouth leaking blood.

Nick pulled free as Ice put his hands back on Pyro Storm, one on his right thigh, the other on his left ankle. The scream Pyro Storm let out knocked Nick’s breath from his chest as ice spread along Pyro Storm’s front, freezing his body.

Nick charged, the only thought in his head was to kill, kill, kill before they killed Seth.

Someone ran next to him. He looked over.

Mateo, a furious sneer on his face, electricity crackling.

Except Ice lifted his head. He stood slowly. He smiled.

And then, almost quicker than Nick could follow, he punched the floor. The tile split apart as thick walls of ice burst up around them. The last Nick saw of Pyro Storm—Seth—was Smoke kicking him viciously. And then they were lost behind the ice.

“No!” Nick cried, smashing his hands against the ice. “No! Let him go!”

No use. The ice was too thick.

Ignoring everyone shouting around him, Nick pressed his hands flat against the ice, gritting his teeth, trying to find the spark, the pressure, the pain, something to call upon his powers. But his mind was a storm. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t focus. He had failed, and Seth was suffering because of it. Seth, who only wanted to keep people safe. Seth, who never hurt anyone.

Seth, Seth, SethSethSethSeth—

A loud crash from above.

Nick raised his head, as if in a dream.

The ceiling of the cafeteria cracked, then broke apart, the pieces floating in air as the night sky appeared above them, the stars blinking coldly. Then the stars were blotted out by a figure appearing through the hole in the ceiling.

His costume was the same as it’d been before, black and bulky, the front of his helmet opaque. The large sections of broken ceiling swirled around him as he lowered to the ground. Once his feet hit the floor, he turned his head slowly toward Nick. And though he couldn’t see his face or eyes, Nick knew he was looking right at him.

“How did you know?” Nick whispered, a tear trickling down his cheek.

TK said, “I’ve been watching. You wanted a lesson? You’ve got one.” He held out his hand toward Nick.

Without hesitating, Nick took what was offered. TK pressed Nick’s hand against the ice.

“Nicky!” he heard his father cry, but it was so far away.

“Focus,” TK whispered, hand on top of Nick’s. “Feel it. It’s there; I know it is. You know it is. Hold tight. It’ll try and break free, overtake you, but it’s part of you and you can control it. It’s yours. And remember: it’s easier to stand together than it is to struggle apart. Now push.”

He did. It was easier than he expected it to be. The pressure built, but there was an ebb and flow to it, like waves on a beach. Nick closed his eyes, and there, in the remains of the tangled knot: the spark, burning like the sun. He closed his hand around it gently. It struggled against him, trying to break free, but he held it close, whispering to it that it was safe, that they were safe, that it was okay, everything would be all right.

The spark pulsed once. Twice.

In his mind, Nick opened his eyes, and then his hand.

The spark floated above his palm. It rose a few inches above his hand, near his face. It moved forward, brushing against the tip of his nose before it began to vibrate. It shook and trembled, and then it sank down to his hand.

Intohis hand.

Warmth like Nick had never experienced barreled through him, covering every inch of him with a prickly heat. It wasn’t comfortable, but the further it spread, the more it merged with him, the easier it became. His. It was all his. He didn’t need it to be extraordinary, but there it was, all the same.

In the ruins of the cafeteria, he opened his eyes, looking at TK’s gloved hand pressed against his. The ice was cold, water sluicing against his palm.

And then he pushed. He felt when TK did the same, and it felt like music, harmonious and strong. A wave of energy rose through Nick, meeting one that came from TK. It was familiar, synchronous, and for a moment, Nick thought of a lighthouse, the cold, salty air.

The ice shattered. All of it shattered with a mighty crack, the ice wall turning into powder, falling like heavy snow.

And through the remains, Ice and Smoke, standing above Pyro Storm, battered and bloodied.

Still holding TK’s hand, Nick moved forward, ice particles trailing against his face. Smoke’s eyes widened as Nick pushed again. The air around them stuttered before Smoke was knocked off her feet, sliding along the ground. Ice shouted for her but was cut off when Nick stared at him. He jerked his head to the right, and Ice crashed into the ground next to his twin.

Letting go of TK, Nick rushed toward Seth, who was pushing himself up off the ground as he spat out a thick wad of blood.

“Nick,” Seth muttered as Nick helped him up. “You … thank you.”

“We’re getting out of here,” Nick told him, putting an arm around Seth’s waist. “We need to—”

“Look out!” TK shouted.

A column of smoke burst between them, knocking them away from each other. Seth crumpled to the ground, head bouncing off the floor. Nick landed on his back, blinking up at the hole in the ceiling. The stars looked brighter than he could remember. The metal struts in the ceiling hung uselessly, and as he pushed himself up, his hands slipped in the water on the floor.

Water.

Smoke.

Ice.

Metal.

Fire.

His eyes widened. “Oh my god,” he whispered. “I just had a terrible idea.”

He jumped up, rushing toward TK, who stood his ground against an onslaught of ice being flung toward him. Nick almost slid into him but managed to stop before he crashed. “I need you to trust me,” he hissed as TK broke another wave of ice.

TK didn’t hesitate. “Whatever you’re thinking, do it and do it now.”

Nick lifted his head, taking a deep breath. He turned, pressing his back against TK’s, letting the Extraordinary handle the attack so he could focus. He let his breath out slow and raised his hands toward the ceiling.

He pushed.

Nothing happened.

Again.

Nothing.

“Come on,” he muttered. “Come on.”

Nothing. It didn’t work. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t

“Nick!”

He looked toward the sound of his name.

Dad, near a pair of doors, pushing kids out and into safety. Dad took a step toward him, chest heaving. “You’ve got this!” Dad shouted at him. “You can do it.”

Nick grinned. “Damn right I can.”

He stretched his hands higher and pushed again. This time, the metal struts above him began to move from side to side, creaking and groaning. He ground his teeth together as the pressure built in his head, but it wasn’t as big as it used to be. It didn’t hurt. It felt good, and at least a dozen struts of varying lengths broke off in a metallic shriek. They hovered near the ceiling, wobbling until they smoothed out.

Nick stepped out from behind TK, hands still raised in the air.

Smoke and Ice stood side by side.

Nick said, “I’m about to show you why you never fuck with queer people.” He dropped his hands quickly, slapping them against his legs.

The struts hurtled toward the ground, the air whistling around them. The first struck the floor in front of Smoke, breaking through the tile, standing upright and quivering. Then another. Then another. Then another, slamming into the ground again and again, surrounding Smoke and Ice, who snarled angrily. The last strut hit the floor. Smoke and Ice were surrounded by metal bars, most of which still shook from the impact.

“This will not hold us,” Smoke said.

“You have lost,” Ice said, taking a step toward them, feet sliding through the water on the floor.

Nick rolled his eyes. “Oh my god, do you ever shut up?”

Smoke began to dissipate, moving to pass through the bars.

Ice gathered the air around him, another spike forming above his head.

Nick startled when Jazz and Gibby appeared on either side of him. “Pyro Storm!” Gibby shouted. “Miss Conduct! Hit them with all you’ve got!”

“TK,” Jazz said. “Nick. Hold those struts in place. Don’t let them move.”

Without hesitation, Nick and TK raised their hands toward the struts. The symphony rose between them again, and the struts quivered before sinking further into the floor with a loud crack.

Ice and Smoke screamed as a tornado of fire rose around them in a roar, the heat immense, causing the metal struts to flash molten hot, the spike of ice shattering and hissing as the water splashed to the floor. Lightning arced down the metal bars, striking the water. Ice began to seize as electricity coursed through him, limbs stiff, head rocked back.

The column of smoke was halfway through the metal bars when they were struck by the combined powers of Nick and TK, Pyro Storm and Miss Conduct. The smoke began to shudder as it morphed into a roiling ball of black. It tried to force itself through the struts, but Nick ground his teeth together as he forced the struts closer together. The ball of smoke pulled back abruptly before it battered against the struts, causing them to creak and groan, but it was already too late. The moment it touched the metal, the ball re-formed into a woman, and she screamed as she was electrocuted. Nick wanted to push harder, make them regret hurting his friends, his family, his people. Kill them both for—

“No,” Gibby whispered near his ear. “Let it go, Nicky. Just let it go.”

And so he did.

The fire and electricity snapped and snarled before it flickered out, leaving only dark wisps and the smell of burnt air. Smoke and Ice stood for a moment longer before they both collapsed inside the metal prison. For a moment, Nick thought he’d gone too far, that they’d killed them both, but then Ice groaned, eyes fluttering, and Smoke’s chest rose up and down, up and down.

Nick collapsed to his knees, strength draining from him as Jazz and Gibby hugged him tightly. His body hurt and his head felt like it was splitting in half. Panic was there, along the edges, reaching for him, ready to pull him under. But Jazz and Gibby were there, telling him to breathe in, breathe out. Again, Nicky. In. Out. In and out. He took their strength and held it close, the vise grip on his lungs eventually loosening as his vision cleared.

“You did good, kid,” a voice said, and Nick and Jazz and Gibby looked up.

TK stood above them, his helmet reflecting Nick’s tired face back at him. TK looked like he was going to reach for Nick but took a step back instead, hand curling into a fist. His chest heaved.

“Yeah,” Nick said tiredly. “Thank you. For coming. For being here. For trusting me.”

TK nodded but didn’t speak.

A memory, flitting about Nick’s head like a little bird. He blinked slowly. “You said—you said that it’s easier to stand together than it is to struggle apart. Where did you hear that?”

But TK didn’t answer. Someone called Nick’s name, and he turned his head to see Dad running toward them, a terrified expression on his face. Gibby’s and Jazz’s parents were doing the same, their daughters rising to their feet and going to meet them halfway. Nick looked back to TK only to see the Extraordinary rising above him, arms spread like wings. Just as he disappeared through the hole in the ceiling, Dad lifted Nick up, holding him close, his face buried in Nick’s neck. Nick’s feet barely touched the floor, and he said, “Dad, I’m okay. I swear.”

If anything, Dad squeezed him tighter. “Let me have this.”

Beneath the tough exterior, Dad was nothing but a marshmallow, so Nick allowed it. And if he shed a tear or two of relief, well, that was just between them. Close. It’d been so close again.

But that was the life of a hero, Nick knew. Danger was always going to be part of being an Extraordinary.

Dad finally set Nick down, cupping his face, searching for what, Nick didn’t know. “Who was that?” Dad asked in a hushed voice.

“TK,” Nick said, turning his face in his father’s hands. “He’s … like me.”

Something crossed Dad’s face, something that looked like hope mixed with grief. Nick didn’t understand. “He? Who is he?”

“Don’t know. Never seen him outside of his costume. He’s—”

“Nick!”

He pulled out of his dad’s arms and turned toward his friends. They rushed toward him, Seth and Jazz and Gibby all shouting incoherently. Then Seth was in his arms, kissing his mouth and cheeks and chin and forehead. Gibby jumped on Seth’s back, legs wrapped around his waist, fists pumping in the air, Seth taking a hard step back to keep from falling. Knees weak, Nick slumped to the floor again in front of them, Jazz’s hand tugging on his hair as she smiled down at him. “You did it.”

“No,” Nick said quietly, suddenly exhausted. “We did it. All of us.”

“Team Pyro Storm,” Jazz agreed.

“Goddamn Lighthouse,” Gibby said.

“The best superhero team that has ever existed,” Seth said. He was still in costume, though it was torn in places, one of the lenses in his helmet cracked and dim. Nick reached up and brushed a thumb against Seth’s bloodied lips.

Then, his eyes widened and he tried to sit up. “Mateo. Holy shit, we need to—”

“Gone,” Seth said, pushing himself up off Nick with a groan. “Said he’d meet up with us later. Wanted to get out of here before anyone asked questions.” He sat down on his butt, pulling his knees to his chest. “What are the chances that he’d be here?”

Nick said, “I don’t know. It was weird, right? It’s like—like—”

Do you know how many high schools are in the city? How could I have possibly known I’d be working at yours? Besides, it was a last-minute thing. Got a message to pick up some hours. Someone called in sick or their cat died in a house fire or something, I don’t know. The number wasn’t one I recognized, but I don’t usually ask questions when it comes to getting paid.

“It’s like it was planned,” Nick whispered. What if … no. That couldn’t be. He wouldn’t …

“Nicky?” Gibby asked, sounding concerned.

“Burke,” Nick said, stomach twisting slickly. “Simon Burke. That’s what Smoke and Ice said. They were trying to draw us out. Draw Pyro Storm out. Something Mateo said—he wasn’t supposed to be here tonight. Got a message from a number he didn’t recognize. What if that was part of Burke’s plan? To get us all here to …” He scowled as he looked around wildly. “Where is she?”

“Who?” Jazz asked.

He stood quickly. Dad was standing in the middle of the cafeteria, looking up toward the hole in the ceiling, face pale. Smoke and Ice lay unconscious in their metal prison. Trey, Aysha, Jo, and Miles were helping stragglers who hadn’t been able to escape, kids who looked scared as they stared at Nick and his friends, including Megan, who looked shaky but able to stand on her own. Bob was sitting in a chair, Martha above him, fussing over a cut on his forehead.

Gone. She was gone. She was—

Trying to mix in with the kids leaving with Jo and Miles.

“Stop!” Nick shouted and took off running. He heard the others call after him, but he ignored them. He jumped over broken chairs and tables, his muscles protesting. Right before she walked through the doors and out into the hall, he reached her, grabbing her by the arm and spinning her around.

“Let me go,” Rebecca Firestone snarled, her sunglasses missing a lens, a bright eye glaring murderously at Nick.

“You knew,” Nicks spat. “You knew what was going to happen, and you did nothing to stop it.”

“Nick?” Miles asked. “What’s going on?”

“Rebecca Firestone,” Nick snapped. “She was here before the attack. She was filming everything. She knew this was going to happen. How? Burke? Are you working with Simon Burke? Holy shit, you are the worst.”

She smiled. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. And even if I did, you have no proof.” Her eyes narrowed as she leaned forward. “I knew it. About you. I knew you were like them. Like Pyro Storm. Like Owen. You may have everyone else fooled, but once they see the footage I took, you won’t be able to escape. The life you had is over. Unless—”

“Unless?”

She stood upright. “Interview. Exclusive. You, me. All on the table. Any questions I want to ask.”

“And if I refuse?” Nick asked.

Her smile widened, flashing teeth. A shark’s grin. “Then it’ll be my word against yours. Who do you think people will believe? You’ll never know peace again. Do you really want to do that to your father? It’s over, Nick. Everything you’ve kept secret will be dragged into the light. I can help you. I can make it better. Why would you—Get your hands off me!”

“Huh,” Jo said, tearing Rebecca Firestone’s purse from her shoulder. She overturned it, spilling the contents on the ground as the reporter struggled against Nick’s hold. A wallet, eight lip balms, makeup, a package of tissue, a tin of mints, Tylenol, and a camera. The same camera she’d used to record everything.

Nick let Rebecca Firestone go and picked up the camera, testing its weight in his hands. Such a little thing. “What’s the school’s Wi-Fi password?”

Rebecca Firestone snarled, “How should I know? I don’t go to this stupid school.”

Nick grinned at her. “So you weren’t able to upload the footage to a cloud. Which means this is all the leverage you have.”

Her face twisted. “I will end you if you—” She screamed as Nick pivoted on his heels, cocking his arm back and letting the camera fly. It smashed against the wall, shattering into pieces.

“I’ll kill you!” Rebecca Firestone cried, her sunglasses falling to the floor, eyes narrowed into slits. “You hear me? You’re dead. You’re—”

“Are you threatening a minor?” Trey asked, taking a step forward.

She laughed, a choked sound that grated against Nick’s nerves. “You’re damn right I am. This little shit broke my camera!”

“I don’t think that’s what happened,” Aysha said with a frown. “In fact, all I saw was Nick picking it up for you after Jo accidentally dropped it.”

“I’m so clumsy,” Jo said airily. “Always have been.”

“It’s one of the things I love most about her,” Miles said, winking at his wife. “And Nick here has the same tendencies. It slipped, isn’t that right, Nicky?”

“Yep,” Nick said, grateful for these people in his life. “Slipped right against the wall.”

“So you see,” Trey said, “Nick has witnesses. You don’t. Maybe you’ll try to spin this some way, but trust me when I say hell hath no fury like a pissed-off parent. You come for Nick—you come for any of our kids—and I’ll make sure everyone knows the part you played here. I’m sure your viewers would love to hear how you didn’t lift a finger to help any of the kids at this school while they were being attacked.”

“You won’t get away with this,” she snarled. She turned her fiery gaze to Nick. “I’ve seen it for myself. Everyone will know; I’ll make sure of it. You hear me? Everyone will know.” And with that, she shoved her way through them, heading for the exit.

Strangely, Nick almost felt sorry for her. He didn’t know why; she didn’t deserve his sympathy. Everything she’d done had put the people he loved in danger. Which was why he was surprised when he called after her. “Hey, Firestone!”

She stopped but didn’t turn around.

Nick took a step toward her as the parents stood at his back. “I don’t know what he promised you,” Nick said, and she stiffened. “But I do know that while I despise everything you are, you’re not stupid, at least not completely. Burke is only in this for himself. Once you’ve served your purpose, he’ll toss you aside because you mean nothing to him. And I think some part of you knows that.”

Rebecca Firestone walked out the door, Nick staring after her.

They left together: Nick and Seth, Jazz and Gibby, Martha and Bob, Jo and Miles, Ayesha and Trey. Dad, crowding against Nick as if he thought Nick would get attacked again. They were all dirty and battle-weary, but not broken. They held their heads high.

“Ready?” Seth asked as they reached the doors that led to the parking lot.

No. No, he wasn’t. He was more scared than he’d been in the cafeteria. But he couldn’t back down now. He lifted his head and nodded. “Ready.”

They stepped out of the school and into chaos.

The parking lot was filled with people: students, faculty, parents, guardians, police and EMTs and firefighters. Lights spun atop emergency vehicles as reporters shouted from behind sawhorses set up near the edge of the parking lot. Cameras flashed, and one of the photos—the one showing Nick and his people as they walked down the stairs together—would be on the front page of the Nova City Gazette the next morning under a single word: SURVIVORS. But that would be on the bottom half of the front page.

The top half would be something else entirely.

Nick flinched when people began to whisper, students and teachers all staring at him, eyes wide as Pyro Storm gripped his hand, holding it tight. The whispers grew louder, saying, That’s him and It’s Pyro Storm and Did you see what they did? and Is Nick Bell an Extraordinary? and No, it wasn’t him, it was the other one, the one in black, the one who could fly.

Once upon a time, Nick would have given almost anything to have this. To have people think he could do something extraordinary. And he had; they all had. His friends. Their parents, Martha and Bob. TK and Mateo. And maybe he did feel strong for a moment, powerful. But this was tempered by the fact that Ice and Smoke had been sent for them. If it wasn’t for Nick, if it wasn’t for Seth, none of this would’ve happened. Sure, the blame rested solely on Simon Burke and his lackeys, but all that had happened had been because of Nick and Seth. If they hadn’t been here, the dance would’ve gone on, the night filled with music, dancing, laughter, and happiness, without a care in the world. Any sense of victory he might’ve felt was quashed under how close it’d been, how many more people could’ve gotten hurt. Or worse. And for what? To let Nick and his friends have a moment where they could be like everyone else?

They weren’t. They hadn’t been for a long time.

Being a hero was vastly more complicated than he’d expected, and he didn’t know how to reconcile it with all he’d thought it’d be. It didn’t help that everyone was staring at them with a look of fear tinged with wonder. A part of him wanted to bask at the attention, to allow himself to fill with joy at what he was capable of, what they could do when they worked together.

But a bigger part of him was strangely realistic, knowing how much everything would change from this point on. He’d dreamed of this moment for so long, and now that it was here, he realized that some dreams were infinitely more complex, even when they came true.

He cringed as the voices rose around him, as the cameras shuttered and clicked, as everyone tried to look at him, standing on their tiptoes, craning their necks to catch a glimpse of him. He tried to curl in on himself, but it was no use. He was here, exposed. In front of everyone.

“It’s all right,” Dad whispered in his ear. “We’ll deal with it. Let’s get you out of here, okay?”

Nick nodded blindly, squeezing Seth’s hand like a lifeline. He stepped forward again, only to stop when Seth did. He looked back as people began to crowd around them, cops appearing and pushing them back as everyone screamed for them, saying Nick, Pyro Storm, what happened? What did you do? What are you?

“What is it?” Nick asked, voice trembling.

Seth smiled. “You told me you loved me.”

Nick gave a watery smile. “Yeah. I guess I did.”

“And you meant it too.”

“Every word.”

Seth nodded, taking in a deep breath and letting it out slow. “You and me.” He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against Nick’s.

“You and me,” Nick whispered to him. “Always.”

Seth pulled back, but not before he kissed Nick’s forehead. He turned toward his aunt and uncle and said, “It’s time.”

Martha covered her mouth with her hand, eyes shining.

Bob put his hand on Seth’s shoulder. “Are you sure? You won’t ever be able to take it back.”

Nick had no idea what they were talking about. He was about to ask when Seth said, “I know. But remember when Gibby’s and Jazz’s parents came over to the house? Nick told them he was Pyro Storm because he wanted to protect me. He did it without thinking. He only cared that I was safe. That’s the kind of person he is. I have to do the same for him.” His voice broke when he said, “Are you going to be mad at me?”

“Never in your life,” Martha said, dropping her hand and pulling Seth into a hug. “We’re so, so proud of you. My brave, wonderful boy.”

“We’re with you, no matter what,” Bob said roughly. He sniffled and wiped his eyes. “Knew this day would come. We’re ready if you are.”

“Detective Bell, you need to move,” one of the cops called, trying to hold the crowd back.

“We gotta go,” Dad said, trying to lead Nick away.

“Wait,” Seth said, and when he turned back around, he held his head high, his shoulders squared. People gasped around them when fire began to leak from his hands, cascading down to the ground. The crowd took a step back as he rose in the air, hovering above them. Nick stared up at him in wonder, heart so full he thought it’d burst. His throat constricted when Seth looked down at him, smiling that one smile only meant for Nick. “I love you. And I’ve got your back.”

Nick’s eyes widened. “No, no, you don’t have to—”

Seth raised his voice, causing everyone else to fall silent as they looked up at him. He said, “I don’t want to hide anymore. I don’t know how I can do what I can do, but this—this thing in me is powerful, and you deserve to know who it is that can do the things I can. I’m done hiding behind a mask. I’m done staying in the shadows because I have fire and it can help chase the darkness away. You know me as Pyro Storm, but it’s just a name, and not even my real one.” He raised his hands to either side of his helmet. He didn’t hesitate as he pulled it off, his curls springing free. He let the helmet drop to the ground as cameras flashed and people gasped, the sound rolling over them like the wind. This was the picture that would be on the top of the front page and would spread across the world: Seth floating above the crowd, fire burning around him, faces turned up toward him in wonder. It would successfully divert the attention from Nick, though for how long was anyone’s guess. The headline read what was said next, and nothing would ever be the same. “My name is Seth Gray. I’m a student at Centennial High. And I’m the Extraordinary called Pyro Storm.”

BREAKING NEWS

Transcript from interview between Rebecca Firestone and Simon Burke

Rebecca Firestone

It’s been two weeks since the attack on Centennial High School. While the investigation is still ongoing, many questions remain. Why was the school attacked? Who was the intended target? What did Seth Gray, the Extraordinary known as Pyro Storm, have to do with what happened?

And what of Simon Burke? Simon Burke—whose son, Owen Burke, was revealed late last year to be Shadow Star and has since escaped from custody—remains a central figure in this mystery. Rumors of underground labs and pills that could turn anyone into an Extraordinary ran rampant after anonymous allegations spread following the Battle at McManus Bridge. Burke denied these allegations, and investigators found nothing of consequence when they searched Burke Tower. However, it must be noted the Extraordinaries now known as Smoke and Ice stood with Burke when he launched the Save Our Children initiative. Smoke and Ice, twins, who worked for Simon Burke. Why then, did they attack the school?

I sat down with Simon Burke for a wide-ranging interview in his office at Burke Tower. No topic was off-limits. From the whereabouts of his son to the revelation that a student at Centennial High is the Extraordinary known as Pyro Storm, Burke was gracious and informative.

Rebecca Firestone

Thank you for agreeing to the interview.

Simon Burke

Of course, Rebecca. I’m happy to speak to you. In my line of work, transparency is paramount.

I appreciate that. Let’s start with a big one. Where is Owen? Your son escaped from custody, killing one and injuring six.

First, let me say that my wife and I send our sincerest condolences to the family of Jacob Lee. It is a tragedy, what has occurred, and the guilt Patricia and I feel over this is overwhelming. We are working with authorities to assist as best we can, but unfortunately, I have no idea where my son is. He has not attempted to contact me, nor have there been any sightings of him.

Mr. Lee is the third person Owen allegedly killed. As a reminder to our viewers, last fall, Action News lost two of its members in a helicopter crash caused by Shadow Star, the name Owen adopted when he became an Extraordinary.

Yes, and it’s terrible. As we did with your fallen colleagues, Burke Pharmaceuticals will be taking care of the families of the victims. Anything they need, all they must do is ask. We have already set up scholarship funds for Mr. Lee’s children.

That’s kind of you.

I don’t see it that way. It’s not a kindness. It’s a necessity. Owen is my son and therefore my responsibility. He is also a murderer—a dangerous one at that. I only hope that no one else will suffer because of his actions.

You don’t know where he is?

No.

If he watches this interview, is there anything you’d like to say to him?

Yes. Owen, if you’re watching, turn yourself in. Enough of this. Let us help you. Your mother and I love you very much, but the only way we can set things right is by dealing with the consequences together as a family. You’ve hurt people. But you’re still my son, and I will do whatever I can to help you. Excuse me. I didn’t think it would get to me as much as it has. I—ah, there’s the tissue. I—

It’s all right. I can only imagine what you and Mrs. Burke are going through.

I’m sure anyone who is a parent has the same fears. You do what you can for your children, try to raise them right, give them a future that most can only dream about, but then something happens, and … I don’t know. I’m scared for him.

For him? Or of him?

For him. I’m not scared of my son. And he should know he has nothing to fear from me.

You’d turn him in if he came to you?

Without hesitation.

Two months ago, you stood with the Extraordinaries known as Smoke and Ice as you announced a bounty on Pyro Storm. They—

Christian and Christina Lewis.

Yes, them. Both are currently in custody, awaiting trial. It’s expected you’ll be called as a witness in the case against them.

Terrible business, that. I thought they were people I could trust. We vetted them. Extremely intelligent, the pair of them. They worked for Burke Pharmaceuticals, but it wasn’t until they’d been employed with us for close to a year that they came to me, revealing their abilities.

Why did you allow them to join you onstage?

Because I thought they were good people, people who wanted the same things I did. I thought they could put a face to the word Extraordinary. I was wrong. Unbeknownst to me, they had an agenda of their own, though I’m unclear as to what that agenda was, specifically.

Sources have told me that they haven’t said a word since they’ve been in custody.

Yes, I’ve heard the same. I don’t know if we’ll ever know what their purpose was, what they hoped to achieve by attacking Centennial High. I’m grateful there was no loss of life. And that’s apparently thanks to Pyro Storm.

Seth Gray.

Yes, Mr. Gray.

Who was friends with your son.

Curious, isn’t it? It makes you wonder if there is anyone else hiding something in that school.

I’m sure we’ll find out sooner rather than later.

You were there, weren’t you?

Yes. Unfortunately, I’m under a gag order, as I might be called as a witness. What do you make of Seth Gray revealing his identity? Especially knowing that he fought against Owen numerous times.

I’m sure Mr. Gray had his reasons—I won’t say a calculated move, per se. He’s a child, after all. I wouldn’t ascribe him any sort of dark machinations. But I do wonder about the timing of it. He could have just as easily fled, keeping his identity a secret, the same as his counterparts—the Extraordinary who could conduct electricity and the other one, the one with telekinesis.

Speaking of that night, there have been allegations levied at the NCPD for their late response to the attack on the school. Some are suggesting that cellular service was cut to disallow anyone to call for help, that the attack was planned using police resources. And further, Rodney Caplan, the former chief of Nova City Police, claimed during the press conference announcing his resignation that he believed officers conspired to prevent an emergency response. He said, and I quote, “Something is rotten in the state of Denmark,” while also making not-so subtle allusions that you were somehow involved in what transpired at Centennial High. Would you like to respond to this?

I thank Rodney Caplan for his service with the NCPD. His is a storied career, the first Black chief of police Nova City had, and while we’ve disagreed on many issues, I know his heart has always been in the right place. To be honest, I’m a little flattered he thinks I have any level of control over the NCPD. That being said, his unfounded accusations cast a pall over his legacy and the NCPD as a whole. These are hardworking men and women, and to have their former boss fling such aspersions on their characters is at best unfortunate, and at worst dangerous. I have met with many of the officers who protect this city, and I can assure you that none of them would ignore a call to help the people who need them most. They are all just as devastated by what transpired, and I know any investigation will prove that. They cannot and should not be blamed for their response, given how fluid the situation was, and how chaotic. I told them the same thing I’ll tell you: I trust them and will do everything I can to help them. And not only them. I want to help everyone, Extraordinaries included.

With what? What would you do for them?

I—I hadn’t expected to say this, but I suppose the time is right. As I said previously, transparency is important. And as a parent of an Extraordinary, I know what it’s like to be scared for your child. With this attack of a high school prom, it’s becoming evident that Extraordinaries are among us and that they’re capable of doing tremendous harm, especially if they’re unable to control their powers. What if a child could control the weather, and they became angry? Or what if a child could move things with their mind and were neurodiverse, say, for example, having attention deficit hyperactive disorder? That could lead to chaos and destruction—people getting hurt or worse. Pure speculation, of course, but the things we’ve witnessed suggest that it’s within the realm of possibility. After the events of McManus Bridge, I instructed my scientists to work around the clock in order to understand our Extraordinary brethren. I followed this with the Save Our Children initiative, hoping that different types of Extraordinaries would come into the light. The more we know, the better off we’ll be. I’m pleased to announce that as of last week, we have successfully cured our first Extraordinary.

Wait, what? What do you mean, “cured”?

A child was brought to us by their parents. This child, who we call Eve to protect their anonymity, exhibited signs of telekinesis. From a young age, Eve could move things around their house. The parents were frightened. At first, they thought their home was haunted. It wasn’t until the child grew older that they realized Eve was the cause. Rightfully concerned, they came to me after we announced the Save Our Children initiative. Following weeks of testing, we all agreed to proceed, especially seeing how Extraordinary powers aren’t considered medical and therefore do not need to be overseen by organizations like the FDA. There was no risk to the child. The treatment is non-invasive, and Eve is doing fine. I spoke with their mother this morning. There have been no signs of telekinesis since they completed treatment.

That’s incredible. How on earth did you achieve that?

Ah, trade secrets. We’re not quite ready to disclose the type of treatment Eve underwent, though we hope to soon. But the bigger thing to focus on is that we could potentially heal anyone with powers. Eve was just the first. We’re in the process of attempting to replicate the results with a different test subject, a man in his late fifties who came to us after years of hiding what he was capable of. He was in tears when he told us his story. All he wants is to be normal. And if we can help him achieve that dream, then who am I to say no?

What would you say to people who will accuse you of playing God?

I would listen to them, of course, and understand where they’re coming from. However, my rebuttal would be that this is a voluntary treatment. We aren’t holding people against their will. Anyone who participates in these early trials knows there’s no guarantee, and that they can stop at any time. We aren’t trying to play God. We’re trying to keep people safe. We want to help those who cannot help themselves.

I’m sure it doesn’t hurt that after the attack on Centennial High, public polling is showing a shift against Extraordinaries. CNN released a national poll that showed fifty-two percent of people were against Extraordinaries. That’s up ten points since the Battle at McManus Bridge.

Yes, I saw that. People are scared, as they should be. We don’t know what these people with powers will do or what they’re capable of. You have Extraordinaries like Seth Gray, who can create fire out of nothing. What if there’s an Extraordinary out there who has the capability to split atoms? To raise the levels of the oceans? I choose to believe in the good in people, but is that naïve? I thought my son was good until I saw evidence to the contrary. What’ll we do if there’s an Extraordinary who can cause nuclear explosions and will do so if we don’t bend to their demands?

And so you want to try to develop a way to stop them.

No. Not stop. Help. I only want to help. I want to make sure that no one suffers like my family has. I … years ago, a dear, dear friend of mine revealed herself to be an Extraordinary, and I was so consumed by what she could do, I never stopped to think of the ramifications for the rest of us. She was kind and just and good, but what if she hadn’t been? What if she’d been evil? I should’ve helped her. I wish I had. She’s gone now, but there isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think of her, which is why, because of her and all those like her, I want to help.

And for those who don’t want your help? Seth Gray, for example. Do you really think he’ll meet with you after you put a bounty on his head?

The bounty was a regrettable mistake. I apologize for that. I should have known better. Some problems cannot be solved by throwing money at them. I won’t force him into anything. He knows where I am. All he needs to do is reach out, and I’ll gladly listen to whatever he wants to say. That goes for anyone around him too. Anyone at all.

Say, perhaps, another teenager capable of moving things with his mind?

Exactly. And I would urge them to heed my words. The tide is changing. People will not stand idly by while their lives are disrupted by Extraordinaries. Soon, it may become a requirement for Extraordinaries to register. I know legislation has failed in the past, but the more we know, the safer we’ll be. See something, say something. And that will be the forefront issue in my campaign.

Because you have another announcement, don’t you?

That I do, Rebecca. I’m formally announcing my intention to run for mayor of Nova City. For too long, our leadership has failed us. It is time for fresh blood and new insight to bring our glorious city into the future we all deserve, one where we can live in harmony without fear of fire raining down from the sky or buildings falling on top of us. The current mayor has done nothing to stop the repeated attacks against Nova City. If elected, I promise that I’ll do everything in my power to keep citizens safe from harm.

And you’ve already received a powerful endorsement from the Fraternal Order of Police. Not only are they endorsing you, they released an internal poll showing that eighty-one percent of the NCPD support your candidacy.

Yes, and I’m grateful to our men and women in blue, and not only for their support. They understand that while people like Pyro Storm may seem like they want to help, they cause more harm than good. People have died because of their actions. Who knows? If Pyro Storm hadn’t done what he did, perhaps my son wouldn’t have felt the need to become Shadow Star.

It sounds like you blame Seth Gray.

No, not entirely. I’m merely speaking in hypotheticals. Mr. Gray is a seventeen-year-old boy with abilities that defy imagination. But there’s a reason he hasn’t been allowed to return to school. Parents are scared for their children. It’s no longer just about gun violence. It’s about people manifesting powers that could mean the end of life as we know it. Seth Gray is only one piece of the puzzle. But the picture is becoming clearer.

Thank you, Mr. Burke. This has been most illuminating.

Of course. Thank you for giving me an opportunity to speak. And I hear you have an announcement of your own?

I do. This will be my last interview with Action News. For the past ten years, I have reported from the streets of Nova City. I love my job and I love my coworkers, but it’s time for me to move on, to do something new. I’m excited about the future.

Congratulations. I can’t wait to see where you end up.

Two weeks later:

PRESS RELEASEFROM THE SIMON BURKE MAYORAL CAMPAIGN IN BURKE WE TRUST!

We are pleased to announce that Rebecca Firestone has joined the Simon Burke for Nova City Mayoral Campaign as press secretary. Ms. Firestone, a Nova City native, brings years of experience from her work as a journalist with Action News. Recognizable, trusted, and hardworking, Ms. Firestone has a level of expertise few have achieved.

“I look forward to working with Rebecca,” Mr. Burke said in a statement. “She will only add to the growing movement of our campaign. She, like my wife and I, believes it’s time to take our city back. We’re better off because she has joined us. I’m delighted to have her.”

“I’m honored,” Ms. Firestone said. “While I’ll miss holding a microphone and reporting from the streets, this new endeavor will allow me to use my knowledge of Nova City to ensure that Mr. Burke will be our next mayor. In Burke we trust!”

Flash Fire by T.J. Klune

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