CHAPTER 1 - Spark of a Hero

Just a little more. All they had to do is turn a tiny bit more to the side, and he’d be clearly out of their sight. From there, it was as simple as walking away. Easy. Impossible to screw up, even. He’d done it a thousand times before.

He pretended to intently examine the apples on the cart, picking each one up and then shaking his head and putting it down as if he remotely knew what he was supposed to be looking for. It was what normal people did for some reason, and so he did it too. Between that and the few (fake) dollar bills clutched in his hand, no one could possibly think he was up to something. Now that was impossible. He was just like everyone else and only wanted to purchase some fresh produce from the stand on the corner of 5th and Wayne. Who could think anything else?

He glanced up and, through the small holes in his mask, saw that the owner had turned just slightly to help an old woman pick out cucumbers or count her money or something.

Perfect.

After making sure no one was looking directly at him, he quickly reached forward and snatched an apple from the cart, hiding it in the pocket of his thick hoodie. The hoodie itself may have been a bit dirty, but at least the pockets were more or less clean.

Like he thought. Easy.

The owner was still occupied, and the people around him were far too absorbed in their own shopping to pay much attention to him. Maybe it was time to push his luck a little. If this were a normal city, he’d never consider it and think people were insane for ignoring someone wearing a hood, gloves, and a mask in May. Thankfully, Garden City wasn’t normal: there were people with masks all over the place, sometimes in broad daylight. They were usually beating each other up instead of wandering around, but still. In Garden City, you just never knew and so people tended to mind their business unless you gave them a reason not to. It was one of the few good things about it. Besides, most of them had fancy museums or art galleries to visit so they had no time to worry about things like that unless it was getting blown up like that history museum a few months back.

He carefully watched the stand’s owner. They were still occupied with the old woman who was now telling him about her grandkids or some other completely boring or useless thing like old people constantly did. He reached forward once more and grabbed another apple-

Suddenly, the owner turned his head.

“Wait…hey! Hey, thief! Stop!”

Dropping the apple, he immediately took off in the opposite direction while the owner commanded him to stop. He swore under his breath. Why couldn’t that useless old lady have just kept his attention for two more seconds?

“Stop, now! You’re under arrest!” he heard a gruff voice yell from behind him.

Great. Of course there was a cop nearby. Why wouldn’t there be?

“Stop, or I’ll shoot!”

What was this, Diamond City? Were they seriously threatening to use force just because he stole an apple? He doubted they’d do it out in the open like this, but he also didn’t feel like testing it; his luck had already run out, and he didn’t feel like having his life run out as well. He could clearly hear the stomps of the officer chasing him even over the gasps and screams of the people around them, and while he had no doubt he could outrun anybody in the city, he couldn’t outrun a bullet. With a frustrated groan, he darted into a nearby alley. Unfortunately, it was directly next to a pizza restaurant, and the smell of cheese and grease wafted heavily out of it. His mouth began to water, and he immediately lost his appetite for the apple in his pocket.

There was no time. He needed to focus.

A dumpster on his right caught his eye, probably belonging to the restaurant. He immediately dashed towards it, opened the lid, and jumped inside. He closed the lid just in time; he heard the cop enter the alley not half a second after he did.

“Where the…?” he heard the man grunt. “Can’t have gone far! Just out of the alley, maybe!”

The cop sprinted right past where he was hiding. When the footsteps had faded away completely, he sighed with relief. He hadn’t gotten as much as he wanted, but one apple was still more than he usually had.

He paused, then opened the lid and quickly searched the dumpster. Even his sharp eyes weren’t enough to see in complete darkness, after all. Unfortunately, he found only scraps of pizza crust and greasy boxes. That said, even crust was better than nothing-

“What, stealing from us wasn’t enough? You gotta steal the leftovers from the trash, too?” said an annoyingly smug voice. It didn’t belong to the cop, it was too young and clearly female. So who was it?
The answer stood at the entrance to the alley. It was a girl, probably about his age in her mid-teens and wearing a yellow t-shirt and brown shorts. She was flanked on both sides by boys who were also around his age. Just looking at her cocky face made him want to throw up, and he could already tell that her two friends had less brains than brawn. All three were making some kind of weird gesture at him. It wasn’t one of the rude ones. He was very familiar with those. It kind of looked like they were making peace signs, except they’d turned one of their hands downwards so that their fingers were touching and making a diagonal Z shape.

“Is that supposed to mean something?” he asked.

“Only if you ain’t an idiot! But, uh…guess that explains a lot. You wouldn’t be stealin’ from us if you weren’t,” one of the boys grinned.

Although he didn’t really care, he sensed he wouldn’t be getting out of this unless he asked. “And who are you?”

They made the stupid gesture again.

“We’re Short Circuit. This is Roy and Barry, they’re both my second in command!” the girl declared. “Me? You can just call me Fusebox, and this here?” She gestured grandly around herself. “From Wayne all the way down to 7th, this is our territory!”

“...that’s literally just like, three streets,” he pointed out, almost having to bite his tongue to stop himself from saying how stupid of a name Fusebox was. “What, did you just make your gang yesterday?”

The girl smirked. “You’re pretty full of yourself for someone who’s outnumbered!”

He was, but that didn’t mean he was worried about these chumps. It probably wouldn’t even take much to scare them off. 

He crossed his arms. “You really don’t want to mess with me. I’m more powerful than you can understand.”

The three looked at each other in disbelief, then began howling with laughter.

“Oh, we’re supposed to be scared of a guy who won’t even show his face?” Fusebox taunted. “Bet it’s ‘cause you’re ugly under there! Bet no one wants to see how gross you are!”

His other hand clenched into a tight fist.

“Aw, is baby mad?” Barry teased.

“Does baby need his momma to tell him he’s a handsome little boy?” Roy sneered.

Fusebox raised her hand to silence them. “Alright, let’s get down to business. Unlike most of the losers running gangs in this city, you’ll find I can actually be generous. I’m in a good mood and you’re clearly new around here, so I’ll just give you a warning this time: back off. This is our territory, and we don’t appreciate people stealing what’s ours. If you understand that, you’re free to go.”

“Aw, come on Fusebox! Can’t we teach him a lesson the hard way?” Roy whined.

“That all depends on him,” she answered. “If Mask Face over here knows his place, I don’t see a need to waste our time, or his. What’s it gonna be?”

If he wasn’t wearing a mask, he’d spit right at their feet. Since he was, he instead opted for a gesture of his own that was far more rude than the ones they’d shown. “How’s that for my answer?”

“Well, hard way it is!” Fusebox grinned. Unfortunately, he then learned why she called herself that: a bolt of electricity shot from her hand and struck him directly in his chest. A searing pain shot throughout his body, and though it faded quickly, it was enough to force him to the ground. 

“Yeah! Get him, Fusebox!” Roy cheered.

“How about now? That was just a taste of what I can...wait. What’s that?”

Panting, he looked up and saw Fusebox was staring at something above them. He followed her gaze and just barely caught someone looking down at the four of them from the roof of the pizza restaurant before they darted away.

Fusebox snapped her fingers. “Barry. Come with me. We’re going after the little rat. No witnesses. Roy, you stay here and make sure our new friend understands his position. Feel free to rough him up until he does.”

She and Barry ran out of the alley. Whoever had been spying on them, they were in for a bad time if they were caught. Fusebox’s powers seemed weak compared to the actual supervillains running around; that zap wasn’t anything close to pleasant, but it also wasn’t anywhere close to lethal. Even someone with weak powers was dangerous to someone without any at all, though…as Roy was about to find out.

“I’m warning you. Stay back, or you’ll regret it!” he growled.

“What? You think Foxgirl or Rewind is going to come save you?” Roy taunted. He looked up and searched the rooftops mockingly. “Huh, I don’t see either of them! Where are they, Mask Face? Maybe they’re too busy saving people who actually matter!”

He looked up and gasped, pointing to the roof of the restaurant. “Foxgirl!”

“What!?” Roy cried, immediately looking upwards.

He quickly stretched his arm out towards Roy. “Got you, idiot!”

A ring of fire appeared in front of his hand, empty in the middle but soon filling itself with swirling flames. Roy looked back at him, his fists clenched. Upon seeing the fire, his eyes snapped wide open.

“You never should have messed with me,” he said, willing the fire to burst from his hand and engulf the boy in front of him, making him forever regretful of what he’d done and leaving a permanent mark on his skin as a reminder.

There was a puff of smoke and a flicker of flame. The ring of fire vanished.

“What? Come on, not now!” he growled, glaring at his hand. “Work, you stupid…!”

Roy paused, staring at his would-be attacker. Suddenly, he was thrown into a fit of laughter. “W-what was that!? Oh my g-god, was t-that supposed to m-make me scared?”

He shook his hand violently a few times. “Come ON! You did it the other day, so do it now!”

With an unpleasant crack of his knuckles, Roy casually stepped towards him. “Weak powers for a weak loser. You think you’re gonna be the next big hero or somethin’? You’re not.”

“S-stay back!” he said, attempting to shoot another burst of fire at Roy. Again, nothing happened except a puff of smoke. He tried again as Roy continued to come closer-

With a heavy swing, Roy’s fist collided with his head. The world became hazy, and he only vaguely felt himself fall onto the hard concrete. His vision came back just enough to see that his mask had flown off and landed a few feet away.

“Can’t even get a cool mask. Seriously lame,” he said, picking it up. It was true; the mask was plain white with two small holes for eyes being its only features. Still, it served its purpose. Roy, however, had no use for it and so he cast it aside and looked at the crumpled heap of a person below him. “What? Not gonna try to torch me again-”

Roy swore and quickly stepped backwards, tripping over his own feet and crashing painfully onto his rear. He scrambled away without even bothering to attempt standing.

“No wonder you wear that mask, freak! Get away from me!” he yelled.

He had no intention of going anywhere near Roy and would in fact give up the apple he’d stolen if it meant he didn’t have to. Despite this, Roy kept doing his best to increase the distance between them until, finally, he used the single bit of intelligence he had to get to his feet and sprint away, nearly tripping over himself again as he darted out of the alley.

“...moron,” he grumbled, picking himself up. He went over to his mask and picked it up. Thankfully, it was still intact. He wiped a bit of grime from it and put it back on, then felt around in the pocket of his hoodie for the apple. It hadn’t been crushed during his fall, so at least there was one good thing to happen that day. He’d find a secluded place to eat it later, so for now he simply stowed it again and, after making sure there were no cops around, left the alley. They’d give up after an hour or two, they always did for small crimes. With all the masked weirdos flying around and strangling each other with plants, or messing with time, or pulling out some weird karate, they really didn’t have time for the masked weirdos who only took an apple.

On that note, he saw a stand selling newspapers inside a store that was just barely inside Short Circuit’s “territory”, so he went inside and accidentally had one find its way under his hoodie. Once he was sure he hadn’t been caught again, he made his way down the street towards the only cafe he was allowed to frequent. They weren’t happy that he only ever ordered water, but there really wasn’t much they could do about it. It wasn’t like there were ever any other customers lining up to take his seat. In fact, it was rare to see anyone there at all.

Of course, “cafe” was a generous description; it sold coffee, tea, and food, but it was more like a seedy bar. It didn’t help that the entrance required taking a set of stairs downwards and that the sign advertising it both didn’t even face the street, instead being stuck on the wall to the right, and had several letters missing. The moment he stepped into its dark interior, lit only by a few barely-functioning light bulbs hanging from wires, he smelled nothing but dust, mold, and poor life choices. At least, anyone else who went there was clearly making one. For him, it was perfect.

“Let me guess: water,” the older man working the counter grumbled.

“Unless you’re willing to give me something for free,” he replied. He took his usual seat near the back and pulled out both the newspaper and the apple, lifting his mask to take bites. He wasn’t concerned with being seen since he and the grandpa behind the counter, who had probably seen worse, were the only ones present If he’d learned one thing by living in Garden City, though, it was that tempting fate rarely ended well.

The newspaper didn’t have much that interested him; he’d mainly stolen it out of pure spite towards Short Circuit, but now that he had it, he figured he might as well read it. There were the usual stories about some incredible and well-loved superhero taking down some hated supervillain, including one about Foxgirl bagging the Crystal Crow for attempting to steal an entire truckload of emeralds.

“Who’s stupid enough to drive a truck full of gemstones in this city? Or any city?” he grumbled to himself, though he wouldn’t pass up the chance if it was given to him. There was a lot he could buy with a truckload of gems.

Before he could continue, the old man approached him and set down not water but a mug of tea and a plate full of pancakes, bacon, sausages, and a fried egg, all steaming hot.

“Kid like you needs to eat more than an apple and water,” the old man grunted.

He stated the obvious while ignoring the dull pain in his stomach and the saliva nearly pouring out of his mouth: “I don’t have any money, and I’m definitely not working for you to pay this off.”

“What, you got something better to do?”

He didn’t, but he wasn’t about to admit that.

The old man turned and walked away. “It’s on the house. Just don’t expect this every time you come in.” He paused, then looked back just briefly to glance at the newspaper. “Looks like Foxgirl got another one, huh? Must be nice to be a hero.”

“...yeah. Sure,” he answered slowly.

“Wonder what lets her keep going even though life is nothing but garbage. Maybe she knows something we don’t.”

“That she has money and people like her?”

The old man shrugged. “Maybe. Or maybe she’s found a reason to be a hero. Guess that reason’s just not something us lowly citizens can understand. Anyway, eat that before it gets cold. I’m not making you more if it does.”

He had no idea what the old man was talking about, and he couldn’t possibly care less. There was a plate of hot breakfast in front of him, and he wasn’t about to let that chance get away from him. He immediately put down the paper and devoured every bit of food there was, only slowed down by having to keep adjusting his mask. He considered just taking it off for a few minutes, but Roy’s words echoed in his mind:

“No wonder you wear that mask, freak!”

No, better to leave it on.

He let out a loud, extended burp and sat back when the final crumb was gone and his mug was as dry as before there had been tea in it. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt full like this. Maybe he never had.

“Remember that I’m not doing this every time you come in,” the old man growled from behind the counter.

“Yeah, yeah. I got it,” he grunted back. Under his breath, he added, “You old geezer…”

“I heard that. I’m only 50, you know.”

“Yeah. Like I said. Geezer.”

Now finished eating, he grabbed the paper again and stuffed it inside his pocket. He tried to leave his seat but found that his body stubbornly refused to move. It was too comfortable, and it wasn’t willing to give that up so easily. Knowing he couldn’t stay there all day, however, he took a deep breath and forced himself out of his seat. He passed by the counter on the way out and glanced at the old man.

“Something you want to say, kid?” he grunted.

Rather than say “thank you”, he simply raised his hand and gave a short wave. It was more of a goodbye than he’d ever given before, so the geezer should be happy about it in his opinion.

Although he wasn’t afraid of Short Circuit, and Roy’s punch felt more like a tickle than an attack, he didn’t feel like dealing with them again and chose to wander a few streets over. Without much else to do, he later passed the time by sitting on a street corner and reading the newspaper some more after smoothing it out as much as he could. Apparently, crumpling it up made it hard to read and wasn’t the best idea he’d had.

“Opinion: We Can’t Be Complacent,” one headline read. It was some long rant by Thomas Terron, a news anchor over in Cosmopolis who had his own segment. He’d seen it a few times on TV displays that were playing the news, but he never cared enough to pay much attention. The only reason he even recognized the name was how often it came up whenever someone talked about the news.

“The fight for peace and equality is one that doesn’t ever end,” it began.

“Yeah, I’d like to know when it ever started,” he grunted, but he kept reading.

“Anyone who knows me will also know that I’m not one to hold my words. I’ll never choose to be cruel, but I will always be honest. The people of Cosmopolis, and everyone across the country who watches me on the news, can count on me for that. That’s exactly why I’m writing this: Cosmopolis is being eyed by a corrupt force once again, and we cannot stand for it. Last month, James Jester announced his bid for mayor of Cosmopolis. At first, he gave all of the usual talking points that any candidate gives: the city will be better, greater, and more free under him. As his campaign and support grew, however, his boldness also grew. Two weeks ago, Mr. Jester was asked during a press conference about the city’s non-existent homeless population and how he intends to keep that number low.”

Non-existent? As in, literally everyone has a house? Maybe this article was worth reading after all.

“This was his answer, and I am quoting him directly: we spend our hard earned dollars paying extra taxes to house addicts, criminals, and so-called superheroes. We may have a nearly zero percent homeless population, but at what cost? I’ll tell you the cost: 200 million dollars every year out of our pockets, out of the pockets of us hard working citizens. When I become mayor, that will be a thing of the past. No more will we be forced to finance luxury homes for people who don’t do real work or commit crimes.”

What a jerk. Cosmopolis really gave people free houses, and this guy was complaining?

“Citizens of Cosmopolis, we must understand that such a belief is a threat to what makes our city the greatest in the country. Mr. Jester is correct in that free housing is subsidized through taxes, and the total amount he supplied is correct. From information supplied by public government records, the current budget for free housing is about 212 million dollars every year. However, he wants you to ignore how much we actually pay.”

It was bizarre. There were no words to describe how uninterested he was in the financial situation of Cosmopolis; he’d only read this far for information on how everyone got a house for free, but the way that this guy wrote made it difficult to stop reading. He was passionate, smart, and he actually seemed to care about what he was saying unlike everyone in the pit that was Garden City.

“I will be discussing my full analysis on tonight’s news, but in short, how much do we all pay? Thirty-six dollars. Thirty-six. That’s the cost each of us pays per year to ensure that everyone has a home. Make no mistake: Mr. Jester is not someone with our best interests at heart. In fact, a little digging has revealed to me that he is financed almost exclusively through backers with ties to Diamond City.”

Well, that definitely explained this Jester loser’s hatred for poor people.

“Consider what kind of agenda someone would hold if they have ties to the most corrupt city in the nation whose police department regularly brutalizes citizens, whose politicians regularly ignore the needs of the people, and who has a homeless population over ten percent with forty-five percent of the population at or under the poverty line. I’ll close with this: right now, when the real work begins, that’s when it’s hardest to be a hero. That’s exactly why we need to do it: BECAUSE it’s hard, and if we don’t, who else will? Moonlight knows that better than anyone, I’m sure. However, we can’t count on him for everything. He may be the one who protects the city’s people, but it’s up to us to protect the city’s integrity. Let’s give him a bit of a hand, shall we? This time, it’s our turn to be the hero.”

The moment he read that final line, he heard the old man’s words in his mind against his will: “Maybe she’s found a reason to be a hero.”

With an annoyed huff, he crumpled the paper into a tight ball and shoved it into his pocket. Heroes. Who needed them? All they did was fly around and be lame with their stupid-looking costumes. Besides, if they were really that useful, he wouldn’t still be on the street. He’d be home lying in a nice warm bed every night, eating real food instead of stolen apples or relying on some geezer’s charity. If a superhero ever does that for him, then maybe he’ll change his mind. Maybe.

Unfortunately, the only warmth he’d be getting that night, just like every night, was whatever he managed to conjure up. As he lay on the most comfortable spot he could find in the most secluded alley available, he was at least glad he had the newspaper to burn. Not that he really needed it; spring had already arrived some time ago, but even during the coldest months he found he never truly felt like he was freezing. Uncomfortable, maybe, but the threat of death by cold had never really approached him. At least his stupid, useless powers were good for something.

“Oh, now you work,” he growled. Extending his hand over the newspaper caused a small fire to appear on it the second the thought entered his mind. It obviously couldn’t have been that easy when he was about to get beaten up. That’d just be stupid.

He had a few peaceful moments of warming his hands over the fire before he heard the sound of movement from outside the alley. He quickly put his gloves and mask back on, wondering what kind of moron would be wandering the streets at this hour. At least he had a reason.

“Tanner…! Tanner, sweetheart, where are you?” he heard a woman call out through what sounded like intense sobbing. Who the heck was Tanner? And more importantly, who the heck was this lady? Didn’t she know there were supervillains and freaks like him wandering around this late at night?

He slowly crept towards the entrance to the alley and peered around the corner. A woman with dark skin was bawling as she stuck a poster from her immense pile to a nearby light post. She then went over to the wall of a nearby building and put another up.

“Tanner! Baby, if you can hear me, please let me know you’re okay!” she cried.

There was no response.

He waited until the woman had finished putting up her posters and the sound of her sobs faded before carefully coming out of the alley and going up to one of the posters. It depicted a boy his age named Tanner Reynolds who’d apparently gone out for the day but never came home. Anyone with information was asked to call the number on the bottom of the poster, especially if they’d been around 5th Street that day and may have seen him.

5th Street. That was where he stole the apple, and just a short distance away was the pizza restaurant where someone had been watching his battle with Short Circuit. Could that person have been Tanner? It wouldn’t make sense, though; why would he be watching them while on the roof of a restaurant? Normal kids didn’t do things like that, did they? They went to school, or played sports, or something. Then again, the timing lined up; it wasn’t impossible that Short Circuit had caught up to whoever it was and kidnapped them. Fusebox was stupid and weak, but she was still dangerous to normal people like this Tanner kid. It really might have been him.

Well, whatever was going on, it wasn’t his problem. He could barely take care of himself; there was no way he could waste time worrying about someone else. The police would handle it, and if not, then Foxgirl or some other hero would probably swoop in and save the day as always. There was no need to get involved. Still, the face on the poster kept forcing its way into his mind every time he was about to drift off to sleep. He felt bad for the kid, sure, but there was nothing he could do. He wasn’t a hero, and he had no desire to be one.

The next morning, he glanced at the poster as he left the alley. A few people passed by and gave it a quick look at best, but no one stopped to read it fully or call the number. Like him, they were just too busy with their own lives to worry about someone else’s. His stomach felt like it had been twisted into a knot when he realized the poster was positioned so that Tanner’s face seemed to stare right past the others and directly at him. He stomped over and grabbed the edge to pull it off the light post, but his hand refused to move.

“Alright, if you won’t move…I’ll burn it away!” he growled, willing a spark of flame onto the paper.

He felt his hand warm up, but nothing happened.

With a loud swear, he looked up at the sky. Someone was taunting him, he just knew it. If it would make them stop, then he’d play their game for a while until he could get his revenge. When he did, he resolved to make it painful. They would never know the end of the flames. A sea of fire, burning hot with his fury, would be the only thing in sight. 

The problem with his plan of revenge was that he needed to find a phone first, and he’d never had a cellphone except for that one time a few years ago that he managed to steal one. He then threw it away after he found out that just having the phone wasn’t enough and that he had to pay for a “phone plan”, whatever that was, to do anything with it. Why didn’t they just invent public phones that anyone could use? Someone might have in Cosmopolis for all he knew, but in Garden City, it’d be considered “too expensive” or something. As if the city didn’t have at least a million dollars. Maybe even two million. Without one, though, he was left with one option, something he knew he was good at: manipulating people into doing what he wanted.

“Can I borrow your phone?” he asked a few moments later, sliding the poster towards the young woman behind the counter at the nearest coffee shop. “I don’t have one, but I think I’ve seen this guy. I want to help him get home safe.”

Her eyes flicked to the ceiling where an obviously placed security camera was watching them. “...why not? Here,” she said, handing over her phone.

“...uh,” he muttered, unsure of what he was looking at. The symbols covering the screen made no sense, and though they were labeled, none said “call” or “contact someone”.

“Oh, hold on. Sorry, my phone’s a bit weird,” she said, taking it back and tapping it. She looked down at the poster, tapped it a few more times, then handed it back.

He resisted the urge to laugh as he took it again. Had she really fallen for his sob story so easily? It wasn’t like he planned to steal anything, but anyone with half a brain should have known he was only using her emotions against her. Regardless, he thanked her and placed it against the side of his hood like he’d seen people do every now and then, hoping it wouldn’t block out the sound too much. He could hear a weird, repeating sound coming from it well enough.

Suddenly, it stopped.

“H-hello?” a sobbing woman stuttered. Although distorted, it was definitely the same voice that he’d heard the previous night.

“Hi, is this Mrs. Reynolds?” he asked.

“Yes. Who’s s-speaking?”

“I don’t want to get your hopes up, I’m not even sure myself, but…I saw the poster you put up, and I might know what happened to your son.”

A loud gasp, then the sound of a chair scraping against the floor.

“Allen! Allen, come here! Someone might know where he is!” he heard her call. “If you have anything at all you can tell us, come to 87 Diana Street. Do you know where the police station is?”

“...yes, I do,” he answered. He’d never been inside, but he knew where it was solely for the purpose of avoiding that area like it had been infected with something dangerous.

“Okay! So if you go past the police station, take a right onto Diana. We’re on the left, you can’t miss us! Please hurry!”

“I’ll be as quick as I can, I promise,” he said.

She didn’t respond, and when he looked at the phone, it was back to the screen it’d started on.

“...you really know where this kid is? You really must be some kind of hero,” the woman said as she took her phone back.

He shrugged. “Not even close. Just…someone who wants to make things better. That’s it.”

“You sound like a hero to me. Good luck,” she smiled. She held up a finger to signal him to wait, then darted off and returned a moment later holding a cup of coffee and a pastry. “Here. You deserve it. If you don’t like coffee, I can get you some tea.”

He had no idea if he liked coffee, but he did enjoy the smell. The scent of both it and the fresh pastry wafted through his mask, and before he knew it, he’d grabbed both of them. They were probably poisoned. This lady must know what he really looked like and wanted to get rid of him. Maybe she’d also been in the alley yesterday and he didn’t even notice. He didn’t care. After finally tasting real food for the first time in ages, maybe ever, his stomach seemed reluctant to go back to apples and stale bread from the dumpster. It was a risk he was willing to take, and after a few bites later while hidden away, he discovered it was not poisoned. It was just a regular fluffy pastry. The coffee, however, tasted like it had been tampered with and he immediately spit it out, but he’d also heard that plain coffee was extremely bitter. It was possible that it just tasted like that naturally, which led him to wonder why anyone drank it.

After finishing his breakfast, he went towards the police station and did his best to not draw attention to himself while approaching. It wouldn’t be the first time a cop tried to arrest him simply for existing, though once they saw under the mask, they usually ran away screaming. It made sense; he didn’t look like any of them. Why wouldn’t they be afraid? Thankfully, though, they all seemed to be too busy harassing other people and he was able to make it to Diana Street without any issues. He scanned the left side for number 87, finding it a short walk up the street. It looked like every other house in that it connected seamlessly to the ones on either side, giving the appearance of one giant building. As for what was on the inside, he couldn’t say. He’d never been inside a house. It couldn’t be much different than a cafe, or a police station.

He froze. How was he even supposed to announce he was there? He couldn’t call them again. Rather than just go up and enter the house, which he assumed wouldn’t be a good idea since the police had harassed him about trespassing multiple times, he picked up a nearby rock and threw it at the door. He waited, but nothing happened. He picked up another one and threw it as well. This time, the door opened. A woman peeked out, her eyes red and tired.

“...can I help you?” she asked.

“I’m here to help you. We talked on the phone?” he said.

The woman gasped and flung the door open. She beckoned for him to come in. “That voice! It really is you! Please, make yourself at home!”

He had no idea what that meant, but he entered the house anyway. The air was pleasantly cool, and a comforting scent, light but earthy, was present throughout. The few lights they had on were soft, not at all like the harsh lighting of grocery stores or the police department. Even the ground felt softer to walk on, though his boots thudded a bit uncomfortably against the wooden floor.

“Aaron! He’s here!” she called out excitedly as they passed a set of stairs. 

“Okay! I’ll be down in a minute!” an equally excited man replied.

She directed him into a carpeted room with chairs, a sofa, and a large TV, next to which was a tall shelf filled with what looked like extremely thin books.

“My baby loves his DVDs,” said Mrs. Reynolds, noticing where he was looking. He wasn’t entirely sure what a DVD was, though he felt like he’d seen them before in a store. They were usually next to TVs, so maybe they had something to do with movies or shows. She sat down and sighed. “He’s so smart, always trying to learn new things…”

“...right,” he said. He copied Mrs. Reynolds and sat down in a chair opposite her. He adjusted his position a few times in an attempt to find one that looked normal. “Um…what kind of a person is Tanner? You said he’s smart?”

She nodded. “He’s very smart for a boy of his age. Or yours, I guess. Sounds like you’re about the same age from your voice. Um…I’m sorry to ask, but is there a reason you’re wearing-”

“Y-yes. Sorry, it’s…needed,” he interrupted.

“A masked kid isn’t even close to the weirdest thing I’ve seen in this city, so it doesn’t matter. If you can help me find Tanner, that’s all I need.” She looked at him expectantly. “Speaking of which, you…said you might know something?”

Before he could answer, a man with a kind face entered the room and sat down next to Mrs. Reynolds. He leaned forward and stuck his hand out. “I’m Allen, it’s good to meet you.”

It took him a few awkward seconds to remember that normal people clasped their hands as a greeting. He grabbed Mr. Reynolds’ hand lightly and moved his arm up and down.

“Good, you’ve got a strong grip. I like that,” he smiled. “What about Tanner? Do you know where my son is?”

“...maybe,” he muttered.

Mr. Reynolds’ smile faded. “...what do you mean, maybe?”

“I don’t know if it was him I saw, but I think I saw someone around where you said Tanner went missing that could be in some trouble,” he said.

“What? What kind of trouble?” Mrs. Reynolds asked quickly.

“I was, um…taking a walk through an alley yesterday,” he began, choosing to leave out that he’d been chased into it. “Then these weird people showed up who called themselves Short Circuit and made some kind of…I dunno. Gesture at me. It kinda looked like this.”

He attempted to recreate the gesture, though he felt incredibly stupid doing it. Neither of them made any indication that they recognized it or the name Short Circuit and instead just stared at him, so he continued.

“I looked up, and there was someone watching us from the roof. Short Circuit also noticed, and whoever was on the roof ran off the moment they realized it. The girl that I assume was the leader and one of her lackeys-uh, friends, went after them. I don’t know what happened after that.”

“So you think that was Tanner, and he got taken by…Short Circuit?” Mr. Reynolds. “Who is that? I’ve never heard of them.”

“Me neither until yesterday, and I know a lot about the local gangs,” he said.

Mrs. Reynolds raised an eyebrow. “You do? How?”

“Oh, uh…I walk around a lot, so you learn which streets to avoid,” he quickly explained. It technically wasn’t a lie. “They’re led by a girl named Fusebox. She’s got electricity powers, they’re not that strong but still. It’s more than enough to take someone down and kidnap them. I just don’t know why he’d be up on that roof, but someone definitely was.”

“What was the building?” Mr. Reynolds asked.

“Some pizza restaurant, I think.”

In an instant, both Mr. and Mrs. Reynolds’ eyes filled with tears.

“Allen, t-that was him!” she cried.

“I know, sweetheart. I know. It has to be,” he answered, wiping away his tears and taking his wife into his arms.

That wasn’t the detail that he thought would make them believe him. “...why?”

“That restaurant on 5th is Sunny’s. It’s owned by my dad, Tanner’s grandfather,” Mr. Reynolds explained. “Tanner likes to hang out there on his days off from school. He says there are always interesting people to talk to. He was heading there yesterday, so if you saw someone on the roof-”

Mrs. Reynolds stood up. “Where are these Short Circuit people? They have to have some place they gather. Where is it?”

“Jamila, we don’t even know for sure if they-”

“Yes, we do! This gang has my baby! I will not just sit here and wait for him to get hurt!”

He gently guided her back down into the seat. “I know. It’s taking everything I’ve got to not go out there myself since the police won’t do it, but if Fusebox, or whatever her name is, really does have powers, what are we going to do?”

“I know! I know that!” she growled. “But what else can we do!? The police won’t help us, and we don’t have time to find Foxgirl and ask her to save him!”

He sighed and buried his face in his hands. “I can’t believe this is happening. My son is probably out there, cold and alone, and I can’t do a thing to help him.” He looked up. “We’ve got no choice. We need to find Foxgirl, o-or Rewind. I’d even ask the Crystal Crow for help if that’s what it took. I’d give him every gemstone in this house if I had to, real or fake. Or that new crazy white lady who thinks she’s a flapper, Dora. If she cares about her henchmen as much as everyone says, maybe she’d be willing to help a child-”

He wasn’t sure why he was suddenly standing up, or why he said what he said next: “I’ll go.”

The two of them looked at him incredulously.

“...you’ll go where?” Mr. Reynolds asked slowly.

He didn’t even know the answer, but his mouth apparently did because he said, “”I’ll find Short Circuit and save Tanner.”

“...oh! You’re a superhero too? Is that why you’ve got the whole secret identity thing going?” Mrs. Reynolds asked, gesturing to his clothing that left no part of him uncovered.

“Huh. Guess it’s more subtle than most costumes,” said Mr. Reynolds.

“What? No, I’m not a-” he began.

Mrs. Reynolds cut in. “I don’t know how I feel about letting a child deal with this, though. What are your, um…powers, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Thankfully, he was able to produce a small flicker of flame in his right hand. They didn’t need to know that he’d tried to make a much bigger one, meaning this was literally all he was capable of.

“Oh! Fire! Okay!” she said. “Still, you’re just a kid. Even with superpowers, it’s dangerous. I want my baby back, but I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“You already tried the police, right? What did they tell you?” he asked.

“...that they don’t have time because the area he went missing in doesn’t have any major gangs, so at best he just got lost and will turn up soon. At worst, he got taken by a small-time gang that’ll let him go sooner or later,” she said.

His mind screamed at him to stop, but for whatever reason, he kept going. “See? They’re useless as always, and we don’t have time to find Foxgirl. I’ll take care of it.”

In an instant, Mrs. Reynolds leaped forward and took him into an uncomfortably tight hug. “Thank you! God, you have no idea how much this means to us! If you bring our Tanner back, we’ll give you anything you want! Just please get him home safe!”

“H-hey! What are you…!?” he growled, trying to push her off.

Her hand moved slightly against his back. She moved it again as if unsure of what she was feeling. “...huh? What’s that you’ve got in your sweater? It kinda feels like-”

He immediately launched himself backwards. “N-nothing! Nothing at all! Look, I’ll find your kid, okay? Just…stay here and wait!”

Although she looked at him with intense curiosity, she nodded and sat back down next to her husband. “Well, as long as you help Tanner, I guess it’s none of my business. Just…don’t do anything too dangerous, alright?”

“Remember, we want Tanner back but that doesn’t mean we’re okay with you getting hurt to do it,” Mr. Reynolds smiled. “Stay safe. By the way, what did you say your name was-”

He was already out of the living room before the question could be finished. There was work to do, and it wasn’t a question he wanted to answer anyway. Right now, he needed to focus on finding Short Circuit. 

The moment he left the house, however, he encountered the first problem of his rescue mission: he had absolutely no idea how to do that. Their territory was pathetically small, so there wasn’t much to search but they could easily be holding him somewhere outside of it. It’s what he’d do if he was in the world’s lamest gang and he’d just kidnapped someone.

He paused mid-step. Maybe that was it. He had to act like he was in the world’s lamest gang.

“...this better work,” he growled to himself. He turned away from the street in case someone was watching and made the stupid hand gesture. Aside from feeling like an idiot, nothing happened. He didn’t suddenly know where Tanner was or get any flashes of inspiration. He sighed and stuck his hands in his pockets, looking upwards. Someone in the distance was flying between the rooftops of the skyscrapers, probably Foxgirl or some supervillain about to make things worse for no reason. They were all smart, all the best at what they did. He could never be like them, nor did he even want to be. He just wanted to find Tanner, get his reward, and go back to stealing apples from carts and running from the cops for “loitering” or whatever they decided to charge him with that day. He’d rather leave the heroes to deal with the actual crimes-

Suddenly, and even without making the dumb symbol, an idea came to him. He watched the figure in the distance again. They were going to his right, towards Short Circuit’s territory, and were clearly in a hurry based on their speed. It was probably a hero, otherwise the cops would already be on their tail, which meant there was some sort of crime in that direction they needed to stop. He already knew the cops and superheroes in Garden City didn’t have time to deal with losers like Short Circuit, so if they were heading in that direction-

He took off opposite them, noting any police officers and what direction they were heading in. Some were going back the way he came, others in the same direction as the superhero he’d seen. He went further and saw a few more going towards the Garden City Museum. There was only one direction that no one seemed concerned about, and only one direction he’d want to hide someone in if he was in a gang. He immediately ran where there were no officers or cops and began searching for any building that could easily hide a kidnapping victim. There were a few homes, but there was no way their neighbors wouldn’t know a gang had taken up residence next door. The stores he passed were all open, and a small-time gang full of kids like Short Circuit could never afford to pay one of them to keep quiet about a child being held captive in their back room. The alleys he weaved through to save time were all too open for holding a kidnapping victim. It had to be somewhere that no one would think to look in, somewhere empty or that wasn’t being used.

He paused and looked back at the building he’d just passed. He’d ended up near the harbor where the long string of identical, boringly gray warehouses was the only thing resembling a landmark, and although he didn’t visit too often, he knew from experience that some of them were never used. They provided great shelter, but he only stayed in them a few times; with the doors locked, the only way in was through the windows at the top, and it was hard, though not impossible, to go through in either direction without being seen. It seemed too easy, but if he was going to kidnap someone, that was exactly where he’d take them.

He only had to press his ear against a few of the doors to find one that had the rumblings of voices inside. It was difficult to tell what they were saying, even with his good hearing, but he caught a few words.

“...supposed to show up…”

“...for a whole day. We already had to move…”

“...patient. They’ll have to…want him back…”

Someone was clearly inside who wasn’t supposed to be. Best case, it was those losers and Tanner. Worst cast, it was someone like him who lived off the streets and might be able to tell him where to find Short Circuit. Either way, he needed to get in there. He saw a pile of crates against the wall of the warehouse next to it and decided to go with his usual method of entering: relying on his jumping ability and a bit of luck. Not caring if anyone saw, he scrambled up the crates and onto the edge of the warehouse, keeping his eyes firmly locked on his destination. It was only about thirty feet, he’d made similar jumps before. It wasn’t hard. That didn’t mean his nerves agreed. 

Ignoring his better judgment, he backed up a good distance, took a deep breath, and sprinted towards the edge of the roof. Right at the end, he pounced into the air and soared directly over to the other warehouse, landing gracefully on the other side…is what he would have preferred to have happened. While he closed the distance, he misjudged it just slightly and didn’t get the perfect landing he wanted. He was just barely able to grab the edge of the roof and scramble up while hoping no one saw him, though less out of fear he’d get in trouble and more that he didn’t want anyone to see how incredibly lame that was.

He crept over to the window on the warehouse’s roof. It didn’t have a latch on the outside, but a design flaw in all of them made sticking one’s fingers through a small gap and opening it fairly easy. Willing it to not make a sound despite his powers being fire and not sound related, he dug his fingers in and slowly pushed the window upwards.

“...all day? I’m hungry, Fusebox! I wanna get something to eat!” a voice he recognized as Roy’s whined, now able to flow clearly through the opening.

“If you don’t want to eat electricity, you’ll shut it!” Fusebox snapped.

“I’m with him on this one. We can’t wait here forever. The cops or Foxgirl could show up at any time,” said Barry in a surprising moment of intelligence.

“Why do you think we moved him out of that other place? Besides, my phone said there’s something happening on the other side of town, so this place is perfect for now. And if some hero was going to stop us, don’t you think they already would have? No. They’re too busy and too scared of us, so we stay here and wait. If you don’t like that, I’ve got a few hundred volts that should change your mind.”

“...not even enough to do anything…”

“What was that?”

“Nothing, nothing. Fine. I’ll stay.”

He peered down into the warehouse. The three of them were standing in the middle of the open floor and surrounding another person sitting on a chair, Fusebox in back and the other two on the sides, but all of them were facing away from him towards the entrance. It was difficult to tell from his current angle, but he looked young and had the same skin color as Mr. and Mrs. Reynolds. His hands were tied behind his back, but otherwise he seemed unharmed and sat straight up, occasionally looking around.

“What? You finally run out of things to say, Mr. Reporter? Come on! Give us an interview!” Roy taunted, smacking him on the side of the head.

“We’ve been over this. Who am I supposed to interview? Three people who think they’re a gang?” he replied.

“We are a gang, and if you don’t shut it, we’ll have our first victim real soon!” Roy snarled.

“So you haven’t even killed anyone, and I’m gonna guess I’m your first kidnapping victim. Do you even have any other members?”

“We don’t need-”

Fusebox snatched Roy’s arm, and a cry of pain suggested she’d just sent a jolt of electricity through him.

“Shut up, idiot!” she growled.

“It really is just the three of you? Wow. You guys suck at this,” said Tanner.

He had to stifle a laugh. Tanner seemed to have this under control, but that could change at any time. He looked directly down into the warehouse and saw a catwalk that wrapped around the building’s interior with stairs on both sides, though it also branched into the middle, allowing a clear shot at dropping directly next to Short Circuit. He heaved himself into the opening and landed silently on the metal, then slowly made his way towards the center.

“You’ve been silent this whole time, Fusebox. What? Cat got your tongue?” Tanner asked.

Funny.

“In case you haven’t noticed, we’re the ones in control here. I don’t have to say anything to you. All I need is for your parents to show up and pay the ransom,” she said.

He turned around to look at her. “And you know they’ll pay less if you hurt me, which is why you haven’t done any zapping. Right? Did you even tell them where we-” His eyes flicked upwards, and his mouth froze in the middle of a word.

The two of them looked at each other. He shook his head, hoping Tanner would get the hint to keep quiet.

“What? Finally decided to shut it?” Fusebox asked.

Tanner blinked a few times. “Uh…no, I was just thinking about my parents coming through that door to save me. You know, it should be any minute now. Don’t want to miss it.”

“Yeah, it should if they care about you at all,” she huffed. “Roy. Barry. Eyes forward. If you hear them knock or see them come in, we start negotiations immediately. I don’t want to waste any more time on this.”

How were they supposed to come in? The doors to these things were locked. More importantly, with the three of them staring at the door, he was given the perfect opportunity. Once at the middle, he hoisted himself over the side of the catwalk and got another graceful landing that he could have used a few minutes ago. There was no way he’d be able to untie Tanner’s hands and sneak him out with Fusebox standing directly between them, meaning there was only one option. Not ideal, but at least he’d gotten this far.

“Hey Short Fuse. How about you let him go?” he growled, sticking his hand out as if his powers would even work. He knew they wouldn’t, but they didn’t need to know that.

The three of them whipped around and, in Roy and Barry’s case, stumbled away from him. Fusebox, though surprised, stood her ground and eyed him suspiciously.

“That’s him! That’s the freak!” Roy gasped.

“Him? He doesn’t look that impressive to me,” she said. “How did you find us? And how’d you even get in here? You some kind of cat burglar?”

Extremely unamused, he willed a small flame to hover in front of his hand. Thankfully, it appeared and flickered just enough to look intimidating to someone who didn’t know him. “Let him go, or I burn you and this entire place down.”

Fusebox smiled and relaxed her posture. She stepped towards him. “Okay. Do it.”

He blinked. “What?”

“Do it, hero,” she taunted, gesturing grandly around her. “Burn it down! Kill all of us, show everyone how you’re a big strong superhero that no one should mess with! I’m waiting!”

Fine. If that was what she wanted, then he’d show her an entire ocean of flame. He focused his energy into the fire in his hand, willing to work once, just once. He didn’t need more than that. It slowly grew in size, its heat magnified from a warm tickle to an oppressive flame, and as it did, Fusebox’s eyes grew wide. Maybe she hadn’t expected him to go through with it. Well, that was her mistake.

He lunged forward, and Fusebox immediately gasped and darted out of the way. That was fine. She wasn’t the target anyway. He grabbed the Tanner’s bindings, the fire still burning in his hand. It quickly engulfed the rope and weakened it enough for Tanner to pull his arms apart and break it off. He then reached his other hand out towards Tanner, and the flames shot off the rope and back towards him before vanishing in a puff of smoke.

“Get up to the catwalk! Run!” he growled as the three, and apparently only, members of Short Circuit gathered themselves and slowly began to advance on them.

“I’ll deal with this one! Don’t let the hostage get away!” Fusebox ordered. The other two nodded and hurried after Tanner who had already begun sprinting towards the nearest stairs.

He swung his arm towards them. A line of fire flew over to the stairs like a whip, blocking them off just as Tanner took the first few steps. The barrier was small, but they immediately backed off rather than attempt to force their way through.

“Look at you,” Fusebox sneered. “You really think you’re gonna save the day, huh? Well, guess what? Even if that kid gets out, you’re staying right here. Who’s gonna come get you? No one. So you’ll be stuck with us until we get bored of you, and then…”

She dragged a finger across her throat menacingly.

“I don’t need anyone. Not friends, not family, and not anyone to come save me,” he said.

“You just don’t get it. You’re not a hero!” she growled.

He shrugged. “Probably not. I don’t think I could be even if I tried. Know what I can do? Get him out, and make sure you never mess with me again!”

Fusebox laughed and snapped her fingers. Roy and Barry immediately scrambled over to her, and the three of them cracked their knuckles while surrounding him. He looked up at the catwalk and saw Tanner had almost made it to the window, though it was too high for him to reach. He looked down at the four of them with concern and took a few steps back towards the steps-

“I could beat you three in my sleep!” he said loudly while hoping Tanner would take the hint again. “But even if not, who knows if a real hero will show up? They always do at the exact right time, you know!”

“Please, even if Foxgirl does show up, Fusebox will take care of her with no problem!” Roy grinned.

“If you say so,” Barry muttered.

He glanced upwards and gasped. He pointed to the catwalk. “Foxgirl!”

Fusebox crossed her arms. “Come on. Do you seriously think we’ll fall for that? Roy already told me about your little trick.”

“No, seriously! I swear I’m not tricking you this time!”

“You must think we’re complete idiots-”

The sound of glass shattering made the three of them jump as if they’d been hit with a massive zap. They immediately spun around, and with his opponents distracted, he dashed away from them towards the stairs. He’d almost made it, the flames still blocking it but beginning to part as he got nearer, when he felt a heavy shove force him to the ground. Before he could get his bearings, he felt something on top of him followed by multiple strikes to his head. He tried to push back and was just barely able to get a glimpse of Roy over him before his fist crashed down again, striking his mask and causing a loud crack. Although it didn’t break, it wouldn’t take more than another punch or two before it did. He managed to shove Roy off and made for the steps again, but another crack followed by a fiery pain throughout his entire body forced him to stop. Roy grabbed the back of his hoodie and yanked, then turned him around and punched one more time.

As he crumpled to the ground, his mask fell off.

“That it, freak?” Roy taunted, kicking the mask away.

He slowly got to his feet, and as he did, his hood lowered. Panting, he glared at the three of them through his own eyes instead of through the ones on his mask. They looked even worse with clear vision.

“Woah! You’re right, he is a freak!” Fusebox laughed. “Look! He’s even got a tail!”

He glanced at his back. She was right; when Roy had grabbed his hoodie, pulling it let his tail fall out from where it had been carefully tucked. He then looked up at Tanner who was standing beside the broken window and staring at him intensely. The face of his savior was now in plain sight. He may look human while hidden behind his mask and baggy clothing, but there was no mistaking the face and tail of a tiger: sharp fangs, a long tail, deep purple fur, amber eyes, he didn’t look normal even compared to actual tigers. He knew that. As stupid as they were, Roy was right: he was a freak. He wasn’t the only one out there with an animal-like appearance, he’d seen several on the news, but it wasn’t the same. He was different from them, even if he wasn’t sure how. Now, Tanner knew he was different too.

“Aw, is kitty gonna hiss at us?” Fusebox said mockingly. “Tell you what, furball: let’s make a deal.”

“...a deal?” he said slowly.

“Yep. A deal.” She pointed to Tanner. “You leave him with us and get out. Right now. Do that, and we’ll never tell a single person what you look like.”

“Oh, and I’m supposed to trust you?” he growled.

She shrugged. “It’s your choice, but if I’m one thing, it’s honest. Why lie when I can do and get whatever I want anyway? It’s just a waste of time. So that’s my offer. You gonna take it?”

He looked up at Tanner, at the boy he’d gone to all this trouble to save. Granted, he didn’t plan on having himself revealed to anyone, much less Tanner. That changed things. No one could know what he looked like. There was no telling what they’d do if they did. He imagined himself getting run out of Garden City by an angry crowd as they yelled and threw things at him.

“Freak!”

“We don’t want things like you dirtying up our city!”

“No one wants you here, beast!”

His fists clenched.

Fusebox held her hand out. “Well? If it’s a deal, we’ll shake on it. No tricks. If you agree, you’re free to go and we won’t say a word to anyone. I promise.”

His eyes met Tanner’s one more time. He couldn’t believe what he was about to do, but there was no choice. Everything had already been ruined. Why not make it worse for himself?

“...okay,” he said. He took Fusebox’s hand and held on tightly. “It’s a deal.”

She smirked at him. “Smart choice.” Looking straight at her two goons, she said, “Roy, Barry, let the furball go. Don’t touch him, and as far as you’re concerned, you never saw what he looks like. Got it?”

“Can’t we just rough him up a little? Look at him, the freak deserves it!” Roy whined.

“I said: you never saw what he looks like. Got it?” she hissed. She looked back at him. “Glad you came around. No point in either of us getting hurt, right? Uh…you can let go now. Handshakes only last a few seconds, if you didn’t know.”

He kept his iron grip on her hand. He closed his eyes. This was his last chance to back out before he did something extremely stupid that would probably ruin his life, and for what? One guy he didn’t even know and probably thought he was a freak just like the others? Still, he kept hearing the same words in his mind no matter how hard he tried to push them out.

“Maybe she’s found a reason to be a hero.”

“We can’t count on him for everything. This time, it’s our turn to be the hero.”

“You sound like a hero to me.”

No turning back.

He opened his eyes and wrenched his hand out of Fusebox’s grasp. His glove remained, revealing long nails on each finger that were as sharp as claws. He backed up and whipped the other glove off, then threw it aside as a flickering, flame-like light appeared in the corner of his vision, like his very eyes had lit up with a fire that had been waiting to burst to life.

“I’m not letting you take Tanner, and I’m not letting you push me around. Tell whoever you want if your tongue isn’t burned off,” he growled. He slammed his hands onto the ground. A massive jet of fire erupted from where he struck and shot towards Fusebox, fully surrounding her in a prison of intense flame. Before Roy and Barry could so much as take a step in her direction, his eyes flicked over to them. Another stream of fire appeared and trapped the two of them as well, the wall of flames threateningly licking them and causing a stream of fearful yelps.

“You lying little freak!” Fusebox snapped. “I offered you a way out, I was even planning to keep my end of the deal! You agreed to it!”

“Yeah, well…unlike you, I don’t mind lying,” he said, standing straight up. 

Fusebox raised her hands. Crackles of electricity appeared in her palms. “Good, because it was the last thing you’ll ever do!”

Normally, he’d be annoyed or afraid at the threat of being electrocuted. Possibly even both. Likely both. This time, he felt nothing but calm. The fire raging around him was soothing. It danced beautifully and comforted him, whispering that he would be okay. What choice did he have but to believe it? Even as Fusebox thrust her hands forward and sent a stream of electricity towards him, he felt no reason to worry. A wall of fire appeared in front of him and swallowed the electricity, enveloping it in a sphere of flame and exploding harmlessly into a shower of cinders and sparks.

“Know what else I don’t mind?” he said as Fusebox’s eyes widened in horror. He slowly moved his arm outwards, his palm open, and a stream of fire separated itself from the wall surrounding Fusebox to gently glide into his hand. 

“W-what? Huh, furball? Stop p-playing games and t-tell me, already!” Fusebox stuttered, trying and failing to keep her usual calm attitude in the face of fire.

“I don’t mind seeing you burn to ashes!” he snarled. He yanked on the string of fire, and like he’d just pulled the pin on a grenade, the flames surrounding Fusebox, Roy, and Barry exploded into an inferno with a deafening boom. In an instant, the entire warehouse was covered with intense fire that roared so loudly it drowned out Short Circuit’s screams. Even the bare floor and walls, made of stone and metal, became completely covered in flames that continued to spread across the entire building. Only the catwalk remained safe, and this was where he casually made his way while the sea of fire parted for him with each step.

Tanner sprinted over to meet him at the top of the stairs. He was missing a shoe which explained where the sudden sound of shattering glass came from, and his wrists were still red from where he’d been bound. He’d also begun to sweat furiously from the heat and was breathing heavily. Despite all of this, “Are you okay?” was, for some reason, the first thing he asked.

“Don’t worry about me. Let’s just focus on getting you out of here,” he replied.

“How? This entire place is going to burn down in about ten seconds, and that window’s too high to reach!” he exclaimed. “There’s got to be another way out of here!”

“No. We go through the window,” he said calmly, leading Tanner back over to it.

“...did you not hear me? It’s at least ten feet up, there’s no way any normal person can get that high!” Tanner pointed out.

“Good thing I’m not normal then, isn’t it?” he smiled. Doing his best to copy what he’d occasionally seen superheroes do when flying off with someone, he picked Tanner up and, after a quick adjustment to distribute the weight better, said, “Ready?”

“Ready for what? What are you-” was all he had time to say before his savior effortlessly leaped straight up through the broken window and landed on the warehouse’s roof. Without much time before it collapsed, he took off in the quickest sprint he could manage and, this time, cleared the jump to the next warehouse. Then, the jump to the next. And the next. He heard an incredible explosion from behind him that left his ears ringing, but there was no time to look back. He kept jumping between each roof until they’d reached the last in the row, then, despite Tanner’s protests, hopped off and landed softly on the ground next to it. He attempted to let Tanner down, but his grace had apparently run out; it wasn’t remotely the distance from the roof, but accidentally letting him fall out of his arms was probably a little painful.

“Crap, uh…sorry,” he mumbled.

Tanner quickly picked himself up and turned to look at the tower of smoke rising into the sky. “It’s fine. Man, that’s gonna end up on the news tonight.” His head whipped back around. “Wait, so are you! Dude, people will totally have seen you! You’ve gotta find some place to hide!”

“Hold on a minute-” he began.

Attempting to push him, Tanner said, “No time! If someone sees you, they’ll either arrest you or try to hurt you! Go, I’ll try to buy you some time if anyone asks!”

“Will you just wait!?” he growled. “Why are you so worried about me?”

“...why wouldn’t I be?” Tanner replied bluntly.

He gestured to his face sarcastically. “Oh, I dunno! Maybe because of this!?”

“Dude, you saved me! Why should I care what you look like? Besides, there’s literally a shirtless wolf guy that flys around Cosmopolis. Next to that, you look the same as I do.”

They absolutely did not look the same, and both he and Tanner knew it. Dark skin was normal. Purple fur was not. Brown eyes were normal. Amber eyes were not. The lack of a tail was normal. Having one was absolutely not normal. Being human? That was normal. Whatever he was?

Not even close.

“It’s…not the same. You wouldn’t understand,” he muttered.

Tanner went over to the warehouse wall and sat down against it. “Well, since you clearly ain’t gonna leave like you should…make me understand.”

“...what?”

“You heard me. Tell me what it’s like. I want to hear anything you want to talk about. At least, until the cops show up.”

He turned away from him. “There’s nothing to talk about. We’re nothing alike.”

“Why not?”

He was starting to seriously regret saving this guy. “Because! You’re…human. People probably like you and don’t hate you just for how you look.”

After a short period of silence, he cautiously glanced back to see Tanner looking at him with the most unimpressed expression he’d ever seen.

“...no, I didn’t mean-” he stammered, quickly realizing what he’d said even with his extremely limited knowledge of the world outside the city’s alleys. “I meant that you’re a regular person! I’m clearly not! That’s all.

“Uh-huh. I’ll let it slide this time since I owe you. But I guess you’re not wrong, I definitely don’t look like you. Why is it bad to look like you, though?” he asked.

“Who would want to?”

“You ever been on the internet?”

“...no?”

Tanner didn’t immediately reply and instead fiddled with the edge of his shirt. “...you know, it’s weird. Not a single burn anywhere on me. Can’t say the same for those Short Circuit guys, though. I’m not exactly their fan, but…did you really have to kill them? Seemed a little…much.”

He shook his head. “They’ll be fine.”

Tanner stared at him and jabbed his thumb in the direction of the smoke. “Did you not hear that entire warehouse explode? If the fire didn’t kill them, that did.”

“No, they’re alright. I told the fire to leave them alone and shield them. They might be a little burnt, and definitely scared, but they’ll be alright.”

“You told the…I’m gonna need you to explain that one to me.”

He wasn’t sure how to do that. This time, calling forth fire felt very different than usual. “I dunno. Usually, when I made fire, I just…forced it to exist. It kinda worked, sometimes. This time, it was more like I was just guiding it. The fire asked what I wanted, so I told it. It didn’t talk, not literally, but I could feel it inside me. I told it what I wanted it to do, and it listened.” He watched the plume of smoke, and even now, he felt something within him stir. He opened his hand. A small flame immediately appeared the moment he wanted it to, and then disappeared just as easily when he clenched it again. “It’s like the fire’s alive now, and we’re the only ones who can hear each other. I don’t really get it, but that’s how I feel.”

Tanner shrugged. “I don’t either, but you’ll figure it out. It’s like Thomas Terron always says: sometimes we need a mystery if we want to get to the truth.” 

“Thomas Terron? What, you some kind of fan?”

He nodded enthusiastically. “More than that! He’s what a reporter should be, and I’ve felt for years that I need to get into journalism just like he did. It’s…kinda my dream to move to Cosmopolis and work for CBC, or even the Cosmopolis Eye. So I practice sometimes. You know, wander around and see what I can dig up on my own. Mom always told me that my snooping around is gonna get me in trouble someday. Guess she was right.”

“So that’s why you were spying on us from the roof,” he said.

“Yeah. Didn’t plan on getting seen or, uh…literally kidnapped. They caught me right as I tried to sneak out the back door. But hey, we all make mistakes! That’s how we figure things out! At least, that’s what Thomas Terron says.” He stood up and brushed himself off. “Speaking of figuring things out…what are you gonna do now? I mean, your mask and gloves are gone.

He crossed his arms and sighed. “I’ll find another mask, that’ll be easy. I just need to steal another one. After that…no clue. I’ll probably just go back to my usual life on the streets.”

“You don’t even have a house?” Tanner frowned.

“Nope. Lived on my own for about two years now…which is as long as I can remember,” he said.

“Amnesia? Jeez, man…that’s seriously rough. I’m sorry. You don’t remember anything?”

Saying he didn’t remember anything was a stretch, but he wasn’t sure how he knew any of it. Every attempt to recall how he’d learned something prior to a few years ago was met with nothing but a blank mind, as if he didn’t exist until then.

“Not really. I know how old I am, somehow. I’m sixteen. I know I’m a tiger even though I’ve never seen one in real life, not even a picture, and that they don’t normally have purple fur. I know a few things I don’t ever remember learning. Other than that…nothing,” he said.

“Huh. Weird. Well, if you’ve got nowhere to stay, maybe you could stay with me for a while? I’m sure my parents wouldn’t mind. I mean, they kinda owe you for saving me anyway.”

He shook his head. “No. It’ll take a bit for me to get a new mask and gloves, and I don’t want to put any of you in more danger than I already have. I still have to get used to these powers all over again, and if someone finds out I’m living with you, it’ll just cause trouble. Besides, I…I like living on the street. Get to do whatever I want, you know?”

Tanner smiled and walked over to him. “That’s a lie if I’ve ever seen one, but I’ll let it go for now. Just know you can always turn up at my place if you need it, alright?”

He couldn’t help smiling back. “...alright. Yeah. Thanks.”

The sound of police sirens cut through the air, signaling it was time for them to part ways. Tanner needed to get home, after all, and the cops probably wouldn’t think too highly of a tiger-kid running around.

“I’ll…see you around?” said Tanner tentatively.

“Uh…sure. Yeah. If you want, I guess,” he said.

Tanner turned and took a few steps before pausing, then turning around again. “You know…you saved me from Short Circuit, and I still haven’t even really thanked you. I don’t even know your name.”

“Uh…well, I…” he mumbled.

“...what?” Tanner asked.

This was the one conversation he had hoped wouldn’t happen. Now that he was in it, he doubted he could call forward some fire to get him out of it. As if his fire somehow knew he was thinking that, he suddenly felt just a little less warm. “I kinda…don’t have one,” he finally said quietly.

“...oh. Right. Amnesia.” He glanced back at the smoke. “Well, in that case, how about we give you one right now? But like, a cool name. A superhero name. We can work on your regular one later.”

“What? No! I’m not a superhero!” he protested.

“You literally pulled me out of a burning building after stopping my kidnappers. That sounds pretty heroic to me,” Tanner chuckled.

“...well, even if I was, which I’m not…what would it be?” he asked carefully. He’d never thought about having a name, either a regular or a superhero one. Not even for fun. When you were less than a person, what was the point?

“Hmm…how do you feel about Mister Fire!” Tanner suggested with dramatic emphasis.

“No,” he said immediately.

“Fire Whisperer?”

“Definitely not.”

“Aw, I liked that one. Fireboy?”

“Nope.”

“Flamey Hotman?”

“What?”

“…oh! How about just Inferno?”

That one wasn’t too bad, but something about it still felt off. “I don’t know. Besides, isn’t that someone over in Crystal Lake? I think I heard about them on the news once.”

“Nah, you’re thinking of Infernal. You know, the guy with the black fire hair? But fine.” He paced for a moment, then looked up with a wide smile. “Alright, I’ve got it!”

“What is it?” he asked.

“What about Firestorm?”

The moment Tanner said the name, the warmth not only returned to his body but practically exploded. A small ring of flame appeared around him and appeared to dance excitedly, moving up and down of its own accord while matching itself to his quickened heartbeat. It gathered itself into a stream of flame that wrapped itself around him like the hug from Tanner’s mother and disappeared. Even after it vanished, the feeling of warmth remained.

“Guess we have our answer,” Tanner smiled. “Welcome to the world of being a superhero, Firestorm. You’ve definitely earned the title.”

The police sirens grew louder.

“Crap, we’ve gotta go. Once you get a new mask, come see me! I’ll make sure my mom cooks some good food for you!” said Tanner.

“Fine, fine. If I’ve got time, and I’m in the area, why not?” he grinned.

Tanner once again took a few quick steps away but stopped and turned back around. This time, he went right up to his savior and gave him a soft kiss on his cheek.

“Thanks again, Firestorm. Really,” he said softly. “No matter what anyone else says, even you, you’re a hero to me.”

With that, Tanner ran off, looking back only one more time to smile at him before disappearing around the corner.

Firestorm simply stood in shock for a moment, his fingers gently touching the place Tanner had kissed him. He felt warm again, but a very different kind of warm than when he was focusing on his powers.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to see him again every once in a while. Just to see how he was doing.

As he thought, the headlines that night in the newspaper he stole were all about the explosion down at the harbor. Short Circuit had been found in the middle of the burned down warehouse, and while all three were completely unharmed they were thoroughly frightened to where none of them would explain what happened or why they were inside. What he didn’t expect to see was a picture, blurry and from a long distance away but unmistakably of him mid-jump while rescuing Tanner from the warehouse. While details were impossible to see, it was clear that he had a tail and a vaguely cat-like appearance, leading the article to suggest the explosion had been a result of the three that were found inside and that the picture had captured a “new fiery feline hero” in town who had saved someone from the inferno.

Firestorm chuckled to himself and watched the newspaper burn to ashes in his hands, then let them scatter into the wind while he looked at the city from the roof of the pizza restaurant. It was late enough that the streets were quiet. All the normal people were sleeping comfortably in their beds or having fun in the parts of the city with a more active nightlife, leaving him as the only one around. He’d found another mask and pair of gloves fairly quickly but had taken them off for the moment. It was unlikely anyone would see him this late, and hadn’t he earned just a moment to finally feel the cool night air on his fur?

“A hero, huh…?” he said to himself. He still wasn’t sure about that, but with his new name, he was at least willing to think about it. After all, he felt like he was starting to understand what Foxgirl’s reason for being a hero was. He felt like it suddenly made sense, what Thomas Terron had said about how sometimes, it’s everyone’s turn to step up and be a hero. Both of them had something to fight for. That’s what let them keep going even when it was hard. Even if they were rare, there were people like Tanner and his parents out there, people like the geezer at the cafe and that woman who gave him coffee. There were people who were kind just because they could be, even if he didn’t feel like he deserved that kindness. Those were the ones who were worth fighting for. Those were the ones worth being a hero for.

“...well, maybe someday.”

He reached down to grab his mask and gloves. He put them back on, adjusted his hood, and smiled. Garden City didn’t need another hero, but maybe one more couldn’t hurt. With a fire in his heart and a purpose finally in his life, Firestorm leapt off of the roof of the pizza restaurant. There was a lot of practicing to do if he was going to ever deserve to be called a superhero. He might as well get started.