“What other rules should I memorize?”
“Don’t give monologues. That’s for villains.”
“Really?”
“Oh, and...”
She trailed off before kneeling in a crouch. The vigilante ground the toes of her boots, trying to gain better leverage. With one hand, she pointed at her eyes before gesturing toward the street. There were several dozen citizens walking along the sidewalks, but it was a hooded young man glancing over his shoulder that caught her attention.
“A kid?”
“A thief.”
“You want me to stop a brat from stealing?”
“You want a lesson in being a hero? Sometimes the biggest victories are in the mundane. If you’re?—”
Nope, no more monologues. I stepped into the light, not to chase the teen, but to put distance between myself and Hellcat’s rules. I had dealt with addicts determined to break into my ambulance. If she thought this was going to be a challenge, I’d scare the kid straight and be home in time for?—
The sounds of the street vanished. The symphony ofcar horns, squealing tires, or even scuffling feet evaporated. My ears hadn’t failed. Even the deep bass of the subway turned off as if by a magical switch. When I caught the boy’s face, his eyes glowed a vibrant green. I reconsidered listening to Hellcat’s speech.
The kid inhaled, his chest rising. My brain attempted to seize control of my body and set me running in the opposite direction. They taught citizens from grade school to flee battles between heroes and villains. There had been seminars on how to not be used as a hostage. But I wasn’t normal, not anymore. I was… Inferno—no, that sounded worse than Blaze.
While I debated superhero names, the kid pulled back his hoodie, revealing golden curls. Other than the eyes of doom, he looked like any other kid out after sundown committing petty crimes. The exhale wasn’t a simple expelling of carbon dioxide, of course not. He screamed, an ear-piercing, blood-curdling?—
The high-pitched tone turned a deep bass. I watched as the pavement of the road rippled, bits of rock flying in my direction. There wasn’t time to react, not before it sent me hurtling into a building. Even from thirty feet, he hammered away with his powers, causing the brick to push inward, leaving a giant-sized “me” crater.
“Fuck. This.” Even shouting, I couldn’t hear myself.
I spotted Hellcat out of the corner of my eye. I thought she might swing in to karate chop the kid. She could haveused one of those tranquilizer darts they always seemed to have. No, instead, she was holding a sandwich while she tried to open a can of soda one-handed. It was the wink at the end that did me in. Tough love, I got the message. I deserved nothing less.
Pushing off the wall, my limbs strained until I dropped to the sidewalk. I tried taking a step, but vertigo took over and I braced myself against a post office box. The kid’s screaming stopped, his eyebrow raised as he processed. I tried willing the fire, summoning the pillar of flame. I shouldn’t have wanted to turn him into ash, but after trying to pierce my eardrums, I’d at least crisp his edges.
Nothing.
“Dammit.” My ears continued ringing.
Shaking my head, Hellcat came into view. Her lips were moving. I tried making out the words, but rolled my eyes when I discovered she was just taking another sip from the can. I needed a new mentor.
Okay, no fire. The suit remained intact. Eyeing the broken wall, any other person would have been pulverized into a fine powder. He might be a kid, but the brat needed to be taught a lesson in manners. The city’s sounds vanished again while the kid made a show of sucking in the noise.
“Not today, Satan!”
Fingers pressed into the metal of a mailbox until they pierced the blue exterior. With a sharp jerk, it pulled fromthe cement. Seconds later, the mail receptacle soared through the air. I had never been one for athletics, and I doubt I could throw a baseball. But if hurling mailboxes became an Olympic sport, I’d earn a gold medal.
“Score.” The mailbox hit the kid, bouncing him against a car. As he reached for the side-view mirror, I knew the fight wasn’t over. I ran across the street and jumped as an angry driver honked his horn. At least my hearing wasn’t completely shot, a small miracle.
I grabbed the kid by the shirt, slamming him against the car. The alarm went off before I kicked the fender hard enough that it pushed onto the curb. Who knew super strength could be this dangerous?
I struck his throat with the edge of my hand as he started to inhale. He grabbed at his neck, clawing at his skin, struggling to breathe. He might be a teenager, but if he could destroy a street and hurl me like a rag doll, I considered him dangerous. Punks like him made heroes a necessity, and I hated it. I hatedhim.
The heroes of Vanguard were self-aggrandizing assholes. Quite literally, they hovered over the city, above us, the people they swore to protect. Screeching boy made them a necessity. If we eradicated people like him, we wouldn’t need defenders. But no, instead these psychos were deposited in prison and given the chance to return to the streets.
I drew back my fist, a warm light glowing across thekid’s face. This close, I could see the reflection in his eyes, a fiery ball of death, ready to break his nose before melting his skin. I eyed my fist, the fire nearly consuming my forearm and hand.
It’d only take a single punch. One.
I slapped the kid with my fireless hand. Shaking my matchstick limb, the ball of death vanished. Icouldhave killed him. He might be a thieving banshee, but he was also somebody’s baby boy. The rage pulsing outward turned inward, angry I had entertained the idea. When he objected, I struck him again and this time, he went limp.
