Anthony Keller Ryan was having a spectacularly bad day. Globs of molten silver streaked past his head, denser, hotter, and faster than they had any right to be. He willed the air around him to spin faster and faster, relying on the tornado surrounding him to keep him safe. He couldn't see a damn thing; the air was filled with debris and his senses were going haywire. He'd never tried sensing air currents in a dust storm before. Things were going poorly.

Brown. Everything was brown. Dirt flying through the air, broken wood, bits of roof, all brown. Like a shit tornado, and he was its center. Then a wall of silver crashed into his poop vortex, and suddenly Anthony was flying backwards. Shit, shit, shit everywhere! He went head over heels, caught in a tumble dryer of his own making. He kept the air moving, felt his power eviscerate the wall of silver, turn it into chunks and set it spinning. He felt things breaking around him, but he had no idea what they were.

He was supposed to be doing commentary, but he had no idea what to say. Even in the chaos, he'd kept track of his phone. His livestream had over forty-thousand viewers the last time he'd checked. More, now, probably. He had to say something, had to keep up his image. Galeforce wasn't being beaten. This was supposed to be fun.

"This guy's got some fight in him, folks," he drawled with all the blustering confidence of youth. Anthony was proud of how level his voice was. He'd worked hard on it, on everything. This whole venture was meant to be his breakout moment, his jump into stardom. He wasn't about to fumble now, just because he'd run into someone who he couldn't immediately stomp.

Anthony was fifteen when he became a Natural. It was a deliberate choice, eschewing the stability that upgrades offered, in pursuit of greater things. His grandfather had been a Natural, and Anthony had never bought into the mainstream fear that seemed to surround them. He was more enlightened than that. Gramps could turn a person's insides to pulp by shouting at them, but he'd never done anything worse than outshining people at karaoke. When his football coach brought word of an aftermarket cosmic generator, Anthony jumped all over the offer.

Three grand was a huge price to pay for a teenager, but it was worth it in the end. He'd already made ten times that, just from his first livestream. Shame it hadn't helped him with his football career. There wasn't any real way to play off wind control as some kind of mutated upgrade. Not one that a fullback would've chosen, at least. It was fine. Anthony had traded one form of super-stardom for another. He could be satisfied with nothing less.

Because Anthony Keller Ryan was born to glory.

The offer had come anonymously. The suit, the websites, the fancy phone and all of the accompanying security software, they'd all been his for the taking. All he had to do was show the world what he could do. Stop some crimes, fly around, wave, smile, be a celebrity. Anthony hadn't asked how, or why. He hadn't even needed to consider it. Opportunities were there to be seized. Fortune favored the bold. He was an entrepreneur, a pioneer, a herald of a new generation. He was to be the icon of the future. What kind of idiot would turn that down? Not him, no sir. He wasn't going to meekly tiptoe into the grave like gramps had. He was going to be remembered!

The thought calmed him, steadied him, brought his whirlwind of power back under control. He had thousands of eyes on him. Fans, looking for a show. He was Galeforce now, and Galeforce didn't run. He didn't panic. He didn't lose. He fought, effortless and graceful. Anthony stabilized his camera, keeping it hovering just behind his shoulder, facing forward. He still couldn't see a damn thing, but he wasn't limited to his eyes. He reached out, into his power, trying to parse the incredible flood of sensation it provided him.

Anthony could sort of... feel the air. It was easy when there wasn't much in it. Open skies were his preference. Birds, planes, random balloons, all those shone like spotlights to his senses. It was harder in this dust storm. There was so much shit in the air, it was like feeling for individual grains of sand as you lay naked on a beach. All he could really do was focus on things coming directly at him. Like that—!

He dropped like a stone, and a metal spike the size of a person blew through the space he'd just occupied. Dangerous! Very dangerous! Whoever this asshole was, he was absolutely not playing around. This was not what his tipster had promised. Anthony would need to hire someone to screen his emails once he was done here. Five hundred dollars was a lot of cash, but he probably shouldn't have taken the anonymous donator's word as gospel. Just— who would donate that kind of money just to set him up!? It was absurd!

He'd fucked up. He could admit that. Anthony had gotten greedy. Weeks of fighting small potatoes had stalled his growth. Every single one of his social media accounts told the same story: people were getting bored. He'd exploded onto the scene with that glorious battle in the sky; shoddy camera work or not, it had excited people! They'd expected similar excitement with every stream, but that was just impossible to deliver. He needed something fresh, something big. This adventure into Austin was meant to be that, but Anthony grudgingly conceded to himself that wanting a big score without the accompanying effort was some real naivety.

He finally managed to get a lock on his target. The big bastard was weathering hurricane force winds like a mountain side. He'd covered himself in a shell of bubbling metal so hot that Anthony was losing control of the wind as it passed over the man. He'd occasionally extrude a blob of the silver liquid, forge it into something pointy, and launch it at Anthony like a harpoon.

"That's quite enough of that!" Galeforce proclaimed bombastically. His stream couldn't see a damn thing, so he would have to narrate his actions for them. "I've got a lock on him now, let's take a trip into the sky!"

Anthony had found that very few problems could not be solved by bringing them into the upper atmosphere. Bonus, his stream would be able to see what was going on. Double bonus, once he got high enough, they wouldn't be able to see the devastated apartment complex that he was fighting in. Anthony did feel the tiniest bit guilty about that. He hadn't meant for things to get so out of hand. Shit happens, he supposed.

He swirled his arms dramatically, and felt the air respond. It blasted upwards, ripping at the hulking silver figure. The man was in no way aerodynamic, but sufficient force made up for many inefficiencies. The big blob began to move, slowly, surely, agonizingly upwards. Anthony diverted more wind to his efforts, and he could feel as the atmosphere rushed to fill in what he took. This was probably playing havoc with the local air currents, but that wasn't his problem. He needed wind, and it had to come from somewhere.

No, that was too cold. He wasn't heartless, nor blind to the damage he was causing. Anthony resolved to run a donation drive for Austin, once this was all over. It was a good way to get ahead of the press, who would probably try and castigate for something that was, ultimately, someone else's fault. If his tipster had been more specific from the get-go, or if this silver asshole hadn't resisted, none of this would have happened. Not that his detractors would care. They'd seize on the tiniest mistake, and blow it all out of proportion. Better to get his narrative out first.

"This guy really did a number on the surroundings," he said, his camera framing his face and nothing else. "I don't know what you guys were thinking, sending me here. The tip said a minor mutate at worst, not some silver-clad mountain. Make sure you guys get your facts straight, next time!"

There. That was a good start. Probably.

Anthony made a mental note to hire a publicist. He couldn't keep winging it like this. That was what professionals were for. He was the talent, and they could advise him. This was a good learning experience. Once this was over...

The big brute still wasn't lifting off. Why?

He focused, and felt, more than saw, the silver tendrils anchoring the man into the ground. Well, fine. Anthony shifted his efforts, pulling at not just air but also debris. The shit storm surrounding him began to bleed away as he hurled it forward and upwards, sandblasting his immobile foe with what was left of their battlefield. He felt the environment crumbling as he amped up the speed. Debris filled the land, then sky, as Anthony launched ever-larger bits of buildings at the resisting villain.

He needed to get the man airborne. This fight had been a disaster from the very start. Once Anthony's powers escalated to this level, it became impossible to see or hear anything. Even his audio program was probably struggling to make out his voice. It made his stream pointless. There was no excitement if his viewers couldn't parse what was happening. The least he could do was bring this fight to somewhere with more visibility.

It was about then, that things went wrong.

A figure broke through Anthony's spinning shield of debris in a blur of movement. Huge. That was the only thing his brain had time to process, and then the man was upon him. Anthony reacted on instinct, launching himself into the sky with all the force of a hurricane. He rocketed upwards, chased by a howling maelstrom of detritus that scattered in every direction, before raining back down upon the city. He'd uprooted everything around him with his desperate dodge, everything except his attacker, and the silver villain.

He glanced down, trying to understand what had happened.

Two giants brawled in a large, barren pit, one clad in silver, the other in the blue of law enforcement. Little remained of the apartment complex. Or the surrounding street. Or the buildings beyond that. It was just a large, windswept bowl. He blinked, rubbing at his eyes. Surely, that wasn't his doing?

Anthony was suddenly aware of his camera. He'd kept it on himself, long weeks of practice making the action automatic. He glanced at it, then back down. He could see police cars moving down below. A perimeter, with some breaking off. They looked to be heading his way. They probably weren't going to thank him for uncovering such a dangerous villain. Anthony decided he better take his leave.

"Sorry folks, but it looks like the Austin PD have finally arrived," Galeforce said with a forced grin. The camera was focused on his face, the shot panning the horizon. Only the sky was visible. "I'm going to be polite, and leave it to them. I'd hate to get in the way!"

He wanted to say more, but his mouth had run out of words. He could see cops getting out of their cars, training weapons on him. He moved higher into the sky.

"Um..." He licked his dry lips. "That's it for today. Be sure to follow the stream, and check out my socials." His voice sounded weak, even to his own ears. He gave a shaky salute to the camera. "Galeforce out."

He spun away from city, from the giant, barren hole in the ground, and fled.