Ronnie continued to sob alone in the alley when something caught his attention. Off to his right, a wind kicked up, and Ronnie saw a large mass drop down from the roof above. He scrambled to his feet to face the movement, bringing his arms up again. The strange tingling feeling from earlier in the night rushed from his chest to his palms, which began to emanate swirls of sparkling green light. This time, a translucent curved wall grew from the ground and arced just above his head. Ronnie stood there completely dumbfounded. What on earth was happening? He reached out and touched the wall. It felt pleasantly warm on his palm, like a sunbeam on a summer day. Though shimmering and see-through, the dome also felt very solid. He put both hands on the side and pushed. There was another flare of green light, and the wall curved back into a dome, stretching until he was completely enveloped. It spanned about an arm’s length in any direction, the bottom edge making a perfect circle on the damp alley road. Peering through the dome, Ronnie could see a person approach.

“Stay back!” he cried. The dome again flared brighter, bathing the alley in a sickly green light.

“Easy, now. I promise I’m not going to hurt you,” a male voice replied. It was low and calm. Soothing, even. “I’m here to help. I caught the sound of fighting in the wind, but there was an explosion before I could get here. Are you injured?”

The stranger stepped into the light, and Ronnie gasped. It was a hero, one of the younger ones. He wore a white and grey uniform with a silver mask. A cape hung over his shoulders, the color of a storm cloud, and a shining silver tornado emblem shone over his heart. Ronnie had seen that symbol before on another hero.

“W-Weather Boy?!” he asked.

“It’s Silver Cyclone now,” the young hero replied, chuckling. “I’ve been upgraded to a full member of The Syndicate.”

“Oh, sorry,” Ronnie remembered seeing something a while back about a round of sidekicks-- provisional members, as The Syndicate referred to them-- being promoted. That meant the heroes no longer needed the sponsorship of another full member of the team and were able to run missions and operations on their own. Some of them, like Silver Cyclone, also found it prudent to take more adult-sounding names. Events Ronnie’s superhero loving self would have been sure to recall in less traumatic circumstances.

“What’s your name?”

“Ronnie, Ronnie Nolan.”

“What exactly happened here, Ronnie? You look like you’ve been attacked, but clearly, you’re the winner in this fight.”

Ronnie recounted the story and was once again filled with fear as he recalled the violence he had endured. He looked over once at the broken body on the other side of the alley. Another wave of nausea hit him. “I- I think he’s dead!”

Silver Cyclone turned away from Ronnie and went to examine the body. He crouched down and pulled off a glove to attempt to check for a pulse, but soon stood up and was shaking his head. Putting two fingers to his ear, he began to murmur in a low tone that Ronnie couldn’t hear. The hero looked up at Ronnie every so often during this quiet conversation. “Understood,” He said, clearing his throat. “We’ll need a transport at my location.”

He turned towards Ronnie, “I… think you can turn that off now,” eyes taking in the green dome that was still filling half of the alleyway.

“I’m not sure how... this hasn’t happened before.”

“Try to relax. You’re not in danger anymore.”

Ronnie spread his arms out to touch the walls of the dome. There was another sharp pain in his right side, which made him wince. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His mind was still racing, and he fought to clear it. He focused on his breathing and imagined pulling the energy back inside him.

“Hey now, that’s better,”

Opening his eyes, Ronnie was shocked to see that the dome had disappeared. The alley was once again cloaked in darkness. He let his arms fall to his sides.

“You need to get medical attention for your eye, and probably your ribs,” Silver Cyclone explained in his low, calm voice. “Normally, I would take you to a hospital, but you’ve manifested powers, and a typical doctor isn’t equipped to deal with that. Besides, we don’t want any more injuries tonight.”

“Yeah, wouldn’t want to kill anyone else,” Ronnie thought. A wave of nausea boiled up in his throat. “What about him? Won’t someone be expecting him? His family?”

Silver Cyclone paused for a moment to look at Ronnie. “The Syndicate will make sure everything is taken care of. Rest assured, this was self-defense. Our people will protect you, and he won’t be able to hurt anyone ever again.”

Ronnie approached the body with caution as if he were afraid it would suddenly spring to life again. His wallet was on the ground nearby, and he bent down to pick it up. The blood rushed to his head, and he stumbled forward.

“Careful now!” A pair of strong arms reached out to steady him. Silver Cyclone helped him back up and kept a firm hand around his waist as the pair made their way out of the alley. Ronnie looked over at his rescuer. Bright brown eyes shone from behind the silver domino mask. They matched the flush in the hero’s cheeks. Silver Cyclone stood about three inches taller than Ronnie, who leaned into him for support. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, Ronnie was all too aware of which body parts had been battered and bruised.

As the two exited the alley, a sleek black vehicle came to a smooth stop in front of them. It looked like an extremely modern town car, one that an important politician would use for security detail. Ronnie noticed there didn’t appear to be a windshield or front windows, and all passenger windows were dark.

“IDENTITY VERIFICATION REQUIRED,” a tinny computer voice declared.

“Silver Cyclone, A-76524.”

“IDENTITY CONFIRMED. ACCESS GRANTED.”

The glossy black door swung open to reveal a long leather bench seat. A metal wall went up from the floor to ceiling where the front row of seats would be, with several monitors displaying a rotating Syndicate emblem. It was now clear to Ronnie that no one was actually driving the car.

Silver Cyclone helped Ronnie into the vehicle and then climbed in beside him, pulling his cape in through the gap. The door swung closed automatically as he called out, “Syndicate Headquarters, Emergency Medical Transit.”

A happy chime rang out in response to his command. Ronnie felt the car’s engine roar to life, and with a sudden jolt they began to rise into the air. He looked over at the masked man in surprise.

“I want to get you checked out as soon as possible,” He said with a shrug, “It’ll be quicker if we fly.”

The car lifted up over the dark buildings, engine rumbling as people slept quietly below. Ronnie saw a pair of people with flashlights sweeping the alley. They both stopped on the body of his attacker. One of the people looked up at the departing vehicle, and Ronnie could see it was a Syndicate support agent. He wondered what they were thinking about the mess he had made. “Probably that I’m a terrible monster,” he thought. “People who cause that much damage should be locked up before they hurt anyone else.”

“Hey, it’s ok,” the voice on the other side of the car said.

Ronnie looked up to see Silver Cyclone nod towards his hands. His eyes drifted down, and he was shocked to see they were balled into tight fists. A pale green light was emanating from them in steady waves. “I still don’t know what’s happening to me,” he said in a soft whisper. “Am I dangerous?”

“Possibly, but we’re all dangerous at first. I blew my treehouse down when I was 10. Luckily, my parents both have powers, so they were prepared for this sort of thing. But don’t worry, I’m going to make sure you get the help you need. You’re not alone, and you’ll find the answers you’re looking for at The Syndicate.”

Ronnie turned his head and rested it against the window of the car. The alley was far away now as they sped closer to the city center.

The Syndicate of Heroes’ headquarters was a massive building occupying several blocks on Liberty Island. The imposing structure was made of white marble, and it shone brightly in the night thanks to rows of spotlights along its exterior. The front of the building sported a tightly manicured garden, in the center of which stood a dark granite statue. The statue was of 3 people: Crimson Cosmonaut, Professor Neuron, and Zephyr. As charter members of The Syndicate, the three heroes took what was once an informal alliance and transformed it into a worldwide coalition of crime fighters who worked across borders to solve global threats.

There were Syndicate chapters in just about every major city in the world, each one of them fully equipped to handle regional issues and natural disasters. The Liberty City headquarters dealt with large-scale events that endangered the entire planet and was where the biggest heroes in the Syndicate resided when they weren’t responding to apocalyptic threats. It also housed the technology and science center of the organization. Syndicate Support was made up primarily of non-powered scientists and engineers who helped develop and maintain Syndicate’s vast infrastructure. The world’s brightest minds, all working toward a common goal.

The flying vehicle made a sweeping arc around the building, and Ronnie was impressed at just how huge it really was. He had seen the global headquarters up close only once before: A 7th-grade field trip to the public areas of the building. There, the class was told the history of the organization and some of its members (which he had already memorized, of course). They also had a chance to tour some parts of the premises: The grand conference room where the Syndicate met with various heads of state, the Hall of Heroes which held bronze statues of all members past and present, and Legacy Hall, a museum heralding the Syndicate’s most significant victories.

Ronnie recalled standing amongst the statues wholly awed. He had always been kind of a shrimpy kid and wondered what it felt like to be strong and brave enough to protect others. He had dreamed of the chance to be a hero, but it never came. He knew that superheroes were supposed to get their powers as they grew up, and his childhood had been disappointingly ordinary. He would often lay awake at night, staring at the posters of heroes above his bed. He would have given anything for a chance to be like them.

“Well, you should be careful what you fucking wish for,” he thought, knocking his head against the car window in frustration.

The town car made a steady descent back to the ground, and a wide loading bay began to open up at the back of the building. As the tall steel doors slid open with a grind, Ronnie could get a glimpse of a very industrial garage. In it, air and land vehicles of all types were parked, some getting worked on by people in blue jumpsuits. Any feelings of exhaustion and sadness were immediately replaced by wonder. “This… seems like a lot of cars. Is that a jet?!,” he asked, pointing to a very high-tech looking plane. The books he had read as a kid didn’t cover this side of things.

“The Syndicate relies on a heavy transportation fleet to ensure that any member can address a situation as quickly as possible. For those of us that can’t fly or run there, it means more traditional modes of transportation.” There was a laugh. “And yes, that’s the Nighthawk, she’s very fast and very awesome!”

“Makes sense...” Ronnie was starting to realize just how little of the headquarters he had seen on the public tour. “I wonder what else is hiding in here,” he thought.

The car came to a halt at the far end of the garage, and Silver Cyclone pushed a button that opened both doors. A pair of people in Syndicate branded lab coats were there to greet Ronnie as he stepped out.

“My name is Doctor Peters,” A blonde woman told him, extending her hand. “I’ve been told you’ve had quite a night. Follow me this way, and we’ll get you checked out. Silver Cyclone, please stay with Doctor Ritter for a quick mission debrief.” The man next to Doctor Peters nodded to Ronnie’s companion.

“You’re in good hands now, Ronnie.” Silver Cyclone called after him as he was being ushered away. “I’ll be sure to check in on you once you’ve had time to rest.”

Ronnie waved over his shoulder but wasn’t able to turn around as he was shepherded in the opposite direction.