Lucien sat with Ty, Eddie, Sam, Carmine, Taylor, Alize, and Jessica the next afternoon at Benny’s Burgers, a local favourite for the First High crowd that sported an assortment of 1950s style booths and wait staff. They’d ordered enough food to feed a small army, and with Ty and Jess to his left in the booth he had a feeling that it would be necessary. Ty and Jess were incredibly compatible in the way they ate: A lot.

Eddie and Sam sat opposite, with Alize and Taylor beside them near the end of the seat. Carmine had claimed the position to Lucien’s right, which he didn’t particularly mind given her sudden interest in him — though it still left a faint feeling of awkwardness whenever her fingers would stray along his leg or towards other locations that elicited a fierce flush to his features. Try as he might, the one part of being ‘popular’ he couldn’t manage to adjust to was how liberal some of his peers were with interpersonal hook-ups.

“So we never got to finish our conversation at lunch.” Sam said to Lucien, waving a fry at him accusingly. “How was your first lesson, dude?”

“Huh?” Lucien responded, distracted by Carmine’s very tangible nails against his thigh.

“Krav Maga, dude! How was it? Learning from a legit Israeli, that must be wild.”

“Oh. Yeah, it’s cool.” He said while trying to focus on Sam. “Malachi is old school, you know? He was active during the Trumpet War, so he has some serious knowledge and skills.”

“Wow. I wonder if he ever saw one of the Firesworn.” Eddie said, looking impressed.

“The what?” Taylor asked, looking at Eddie blankly.

“… The Firesworn, TayTay. You know, Baal’s cult?” Jessica said with a look of disbelief.

Taylor wrinkled her nose. “Ew. Cultists.” She flipped her red hair. “As if. Who cares about cultists?”

Alize looked at her in a mix of surprise and mild consternation as she responded. “That’s such an important part of our history. The Firesworn were responsible for millions of deaths. They effectively wiped Iran off the map as we knew it.”

“Yeah, but that was like before we were born. Besides, they were all killed or whatever.”

“Jesus Taylor.” Sam said, looking displeased. “Could you try to be more sensitive?”

“Whatever. I don’t know why you even care. Forget the Firethingy, what about Olympus? If he was active in the war, he might have met him.”

Whether or not it was intentional, Lucien couldn’t tell, but Taylor had managed to divert attention from her shocking lack of care for history to one of the few topics that could occupy the minds of those present. He and Ty exchanged a subtle, knowing look before turning back to the others, and he almost jumped when Carmine dug her nails into his thigh before speaking up as if nothing were wrong. “Olympus was basically a God, right? I doubt he had time to speak to some random soldier.” She glanced at Lucien, smiling with intent. “No offense, Luc.”

“None taken.” He said with extremely practiced calm. Her nails dug against his leg harder, and he was immediately thankful for his enhanced durability. Any fiercer and she might have drawn blood. “As for whether or not he met Olympus, I couldn’t tell you.” Which was the truth, in a way. Malachi’s identity as a metahuman was a secret Lucien had promised to keep, and informing them of how his mentor had met Olympus — his father, despite it still feeling unreal — would mean compromising Malachi’s confidence.

“So did you learn how to kill a dude with a straw or something equally awesome?” Eddie asked, grinning as he popped a fry into his mouth.

Lucien laughed. “Not quite man. More like he kicked my ass over and over. I managed to actually land a few hits, but nothing major. He was definitely not holding back though.”

“You don’t seem very beaten up.” Alize said. “Not as much as I’d expect you to be after sparring a legitimate Krav Maga instructor.”

Lucien blinked at her shrewd gaze, mind racing for an answer before Ty jumped in. “You didn’t see him last night. He came in limping and sulking. I think his pride took the worst of it, though. Malachi’s an old family friend; he’s good at not doing damage if he doesn’t want to.”

“Yeah.” Lucien agreed, grateful for his best friend’s timely intervention. “Definitely shattered my pride, even if he only bruised my clavicle.”

“Aw, you poor thing.” Carmine said from beside him, her aristocratic features twisted with what Lucien was certain was false concern. “Are you going to be seeing him again today?”

“No, we’re doing lessons on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays to avoid me overworking myself.” It was also to allow him to go out and do his superhero thing, something he was both excited and nervous for. In just a few hours, he’d be out on the streets — not that his friends needed to know that. “Plus it gives Malachi time to plan each lesson based on my progress.”

“Ooh, so you’re free tonight?” Carmine asked with a hungry look in her eyes. “Perhaps we can find a way to relax those sore muscles of yours. Maybe heal that wounded pride.” Her fingers slid further down along his thigh and towards the middle of his legs, causing him to swallow.

“Ah, I’d love to Snow, but I can’t. I have a thing.”

“A thing?” She asked with an arched black eyebrow.

“Yeah.” Ty put in. “Family dinner. Our parents will kill him if he’s not there.”

“I see.” Carmine said, the pressure on his leg decreasing. “That’s too bad.”

“Yeah.” Lucien said with an agreeing nod. “Raincheck for sure.” He almost bit his lip when he said it, realising he’d just reopened the door for her advances. It wasn’t that he minded Carmine’s particular brand of attempted seduction, it was more than he wasn’t even sure he was ready for that sort of relationship and — as if things couldn’t get more complicated — he wasn’t sure if he’d have an… accident… while in bed with her. His control of his powers was largely consistent thanks to his training over the Summer, but in a situation of high excitement… well, one slip up was all it could take to seriously hurt her. The thought terrified him.

“Mm. Fine.” Carmine said, oblivious to his inner turmoil. “Friday night. No excuses. I assume that will be okay?”

The entire table’s eyes swivelled to Lucien, and he wanted very badly to think up an excuse. Unfortunately, he simply couldn’t. “Sure.” He said with growing nerves. “Friday. Sounds great.”

Eddie and Sam snickered at his misfortune, while Taylor and Alize watched him with a mix of pity and… disapproval? Lucien couldn’t be sure. When he glanced at Ty, his best friend had a look of sympathy, and Jessica just seemed amused, with hints of pity. Carmine had a reputation for being a bit of a man-eater, sure, but he didn’t think it’d be that bad. Hopefully he’d be able to just distract and derail her enough to avoid anything too compromising.

His thought process abruptly shattered when the grip on his thigh vanished, and the pressure of her hand appeared somewhere much more compromising. His cheeks flushed hot, and he cleared his throat, working to avoid a telling reaction as he turned to Alize. “So, tell me about Jiu Jitsu!” His voice was a half-octave higher than normal, but he hoped it could simply be passed off as enthusiasm.

Part of him wanted to just reach down and shove Carmine off him, but he didn’t trust his own strength control at that moment. A tighter squeeze below the table caused him to bring his hands together, squeezing his fingers hard enough that he’d have crushed the hood of a car between them. He was thankful that nobody had seemed to notice, with Taylor engaging Carmine in conversation about new gossip and Sam talking to Jessica about something to do with the Titans and Cheer Squad.

Eddie and Ty were laughing about something Ty had said, and Alize was animatedly talking about her experiences with martial arts while Lucien sat there, nodding and smiling as his heart thundered in his chest. All the while, Carmine’s hand continued a rhythmic squeezing motion, causing him to measure his breathing as he forced himself to stay calm. His body’s natural reaction to her attention notwithstanding, he was desperate to find a way to escape her clutches and extricate himself from the situation.

Thankfully his salvation came in the form of their food, which was delivered by a pair of girls in the candy-striped outfits of the Benny’s wait staff. The burgers and nachos were distributed rapidly, and the group dug in — with Carmine’s hand withdrawn as she settled in to pay proper attention to her meal. Silence consumed the table as everyone chowed down, with only the occasional comment or stop-and-start conversation offered to fill the silence. Lucien glanced at the distant clock on the far wall as he ate, his eyes automatically bringing it into sharp relief with a microcosm of thought.

He nearly choked on his burger when he saw the time, and looked at Ty. “Dude.” He said after swallowing his food, drawing the attention of the others. “It’s almost six.”

Tiberius’ own eyes widened and he squinted at the clock as well, before cursing as he swallowed his food. “Shit. We need to boogie.”

“What’s going on?” Jessica asked, looking between the two of them.

“Yeah, food just got here.” Eddie said, equally confused.

“Sorry guys, we have some things to do before dinner tonight.” Lucien said apologetically, glancing at Carmine when she didn’t move immediately. A frown of consternation crossed her imperious features, and then the pale brunette eventually — moving slowly out of protest — slid out of the booth and made way for Lucien and Ty to exit the seating, inspiring more requests for them to delay and stay longer. As a gesture of apology, Ty left some cash on the table to pay for the collective meal — though it did little to appease the group.

“Really sorry guys, but our parents don’t accept ‘hanging with friends’ as an excuse for failure.” Lucien said, before freezing and looking at Tiberius. The other boy’s eyes were wide as their gazes met, with the pair mutually realising what had happened. Lucien had referred to the Washingtons as ‘our parents’. It was the first time he’d said it, and naturally at that, cementing his view of his guardians as more than just legal caretakers. Ty’s immediate broad grin almost threatened to make him want to cry, as bewildering as it was, and Lucien forced back the sudden upswell of emotion violently.

“Luc.” Carmine said, drawing his attention as he turned to look at her.

Instead of speaking she stepped forwards, reaching up to grab him by the hair and press her mouth to his, her lips offering the strangely enjoyable taste of barbecue sauce. He was too stunned to speak, lingering against her lips for a full six seconds until she pulled away — leaving him momentarily dazed. “Friday.” She said simply as a blush crept along the lines of her angular, elegant cheekbones. “Don’t forget.”

Lucien just nodded at her, somehow more taken up by the kiss than by any of her more bold physical touches under the table, and only remembered himself when Ty grabbed his arm to drag him away. He remembered to let Ty drag him away a second before his strength would have inadvertently made his best friend stumble as if he were trying to pull out a tree, lifting a hand in a kind of robotic gesture of farewell to Carmine and the watching table of their friends.

When they arrived outside at Tiberius’ truck, Lucien took a moment to recentre himself from the lingering effects of the kiss and his use of the term ‘our parents’, the unexpected one-two punch of both familial and romantic sentiment leaving him blindsided in a way he’d never before experienced. “Wow.” He said simply, shaking his head as he pulled open the passenger side door to Ty’s F350. “What an afternoon.”

“Yeah well, as much as I’m happy for you dude, you better put it out of your mind for now.” His best friend advised him as he fired up the engine, and reversed out of his parking spot. “You have your big debut tonight, and you can’t afford to be thinking about anything other than not getting in over your head or worse, knocking off someone else’s head because you were distracted.”

His friend’s candour drew Lucien back to the present, and he grimaced at the mental image of the latter part of Ty’s statement. “Yeah, message received loud and clear.” He said with a sigh, head falling back against the top of the seat as he felt the after-buzz of the restaurant already abandoning him. “Tonight is gonna be awesome, I have no doubt. Is it weird that I’m kinda nervous, though? I mean… I know I have a crazy powerset, but I still feel like I’m almost getting in over my head.”

“Luc you’re going to be going toe-to-toe with minor villains and thieves. Even while being bulletproof, I think it’s normal to feel nervous. We’re sixteen. We’ve read enough comic books and seen enough movies and real life press releases to know what happens when teen heroes end up in over their heads.” Ty turned out of the parking lot and onto the road, picking up speed as he merged into traffic heading towards a different part of the heavily populated mega city. “But because of that exposure, we also know what basic precautions to take. Just stick to the plan, man. We’ll be fine.”

“Right. Yeah. The plan.” Lucien agreed, looking out of the window without seeing what lay beyond, his mind elsewhere. “Run from recognisable supervillains, handle regular bad guys, avoid heroes wherever possible, and don’t accidentally agree to join up with any vigilante groups. The last thing I need is to end up on a Hero Agency’s shit list.”

“Exactly. Go out, help some people, do some good, then get home in time for an eleven o’clock bed time.” Ty grinned as he said it, as amused as Lucien at the idea of a superhero having a bed time.

“Man… Our lives are surreal right now. Did you ever think this would happen to us?”

“No way!” Tiberius said with a laugh, merging onto one of less populated roads and heading towards Eastport. “But even if I had, never in a million years did I imagine my best friend was going to end up being the son of god damn Olympus. What I said to you about no one expecting you to be the next, well, your dad is kind of ironic now, huh?”

“Yeah.” Lucien agreed. “Like a cheesy line out of a badly written novel. That was some serious foreshadowing, dude.”

“What can I say?” Ty replied smugly. “I’m just that good.”

The drive home felt like a shorter time than it was, with Lucien alternating between excitement and trepidation at the night ahead. He was excited to don his suit, his father’s emblem, and take to the neon streets of New Avalon as his destiny seemed to have always intended… But there yet remained a swell of concern within him. Concern for his ability to do as was needed in the heat of combat. Concern at the possibility of losing control and seriously hurting someone else.

Concern at the thought of being caught by a registered Superhero.

The consequences for unapproved action in the world of superheroes was far more than just a stern talking to. Vigilantes, no matter how well-intentioned, were viewed as rogue and dangerous elements. Most registered heroes considered them one step away from the villains and criminals they fought against, and would not hesitate to attempt to take them down and bring them in to be censured. The degree of punishment was usually relative to the promise of the Metahuman, however. The stronger the powerset of the meta in question, the more willing the DMHA was to turn a vigilante into a registered Hero.

When they pulled into the driveway and made their way inside, Lucien immediately beelined for the shower attached to his bedroom in order to relax his nerves with the hot water, losing himself in the bliss of the scalding liquid — no matter how hot it was, it never hurt him — crashing down against his skin. He felt the dirt and grime of the day being sloughed off, purged by the blistering heat of the water as it rolled against his hypersensitive skin.

Suppressing his senses every day had become a second instinct for Lucien just to survive. If he didn’t, the overload of his sensory capacity was immediate. He’d been trying, slowly, to allow more and more awareness each day in order to steadily grow used to the massive slew of information that assailed him. Tiberius had agreed it was necessary to better take advantage of his powers and new abilities, which had been all the encouragement Lucien had needed.

He finished the shower and dried himself quickly, stepping into his bedroom to confront the silver box sitting innocently on his bed. He took a deep breath to swallow the last of his nerves and approached, depressing the seals on the box to open it up and retrieve the suit inside. The material adjusted to his fingers immediately as he flapped it slightly to open it up before putting it on like a wetsuit. Legs first, then his torso and arms, pulling the suit up to his neck and allowing the fabric to settle against his skin.

His eyes widened immediately as he felt the suit tighten and morph along the lines of his body, conforming to his limbs and centre mass within moments of being fully worn. His heightened senses felt the interior transition to a more comfortable texture, allowing him to shift and move in the suit with no sense of discomfort or irritation. After a few moments he was sure he’d simply forget he was wearing it, given how seamlessly it fit against his skin.

Lucien blinked at a sudden awareness of change, reaching down to feel the density of his suit’s outer layer over his groin and sternum. The extra layer of protection was welcome, and he also realised that it eliminated any awkward outlines or bulges from view by creating a gender-neutral plane of smooth, reinforced material. He settled down on the bed and grabbed the flexible boots, sliding them on and feeling the material adjust and tighten around his feet. The soles, ankle support, top of the foot, and toes all increased their density in the same way as his suit; creating the feeling of a solid and protective high-durability boot.

A brief wriggle of his legs found that the armour pieces on his shoes offered no impediment to his movement, which was a relief. The gloves came on next, and he felt the knuckles, wrists, and palm material thickening protectively. The workings of the suit defied his understanding, and even with his enhanced senses he couldn’t quite grasp how the material did what it did so intelligently. A moment of testing his hands followed and he marveled at how intuitive the suit was, simulating the sensations of the air around him so seamlessly that his fingers felt as if they were naked.

Fully attired he turned to the mirror in his room, and sucked in a breath at what greeted him. His black hair was still damp and fell with messy stylishness along his shoulders and across his eyes, giving him a mysterious and almost badboy appearance. His red irises only accentuated it, while his strong jaw and muscular figure gave the illusion of a young man that knew how to ‘throw down’. The gloves and boots had seamlessly connected with the rest of his suit, and the high collar on his neck sat against his skin like an extra layer.

He was notably male, though any compromising outlines — he double-checked by turning around to check his rear — had been smoothly hidden by the suit’s density functions. Not a piece of him felt constricted or repressed, and his flexibility and functionality were equally preserved. The only part of him that seemed a potential impediment to his movement were the stylistic golden armour pieces on his feet, legs, hands, and forearms. Another quick assessment of his range of movement dispelled that concern, however, and a broad grin spread over his features.

“Awesome.” He said to himself, as his eyes trailed down to the two-headed golden eagle emblem emblazoned on his chest. His fingers rose to touch it, trailing the hardened outline of the faux-metal suit fabric that appeared to so perfectly imitate gold. His father’s symbol. His family’s symbol. Lucien felt his eyes sting as he saw himself wearing it, and he rolled his eyes upwards to blink away the tears, refusing to sully the moment by crying. He was a superhero, damn it!

Well, sort of.

A knock came at his door and Lucien turned as Ty cracked the door, before entering fully. The older boy froze at seeing him, and Lucien couldn’t help but feel a pang of trepidation and the same old self-doubt, worried that his best friend would find fault or issue with his appearance. Then, as if to dispel any chance of doubt, a slow smile spread across Tiberius’ face as his eyes lit up.

“Dude.” His godbrother said. “Awesome.”

“Thanks Ty.” Lucien said with an embarrassed smile. “I was worried I looked ridiculous.”

“Nah man, you were born to wear that.” His friend said with absolute certainty, stilling some of the lingering butterflies lurking in Lucien’s stomach. “But it isn’t quite complete yet.” Ty continued, drawing attention to the fact his hands were behind his back.

“Oh?” Lucien asked simply. “Don’t leave me in suspense.”

Tiberius grinned at the prompting and brought his hands around, revealing a white box tied with a gold ribbon. It was just big enough that he had to carry it with both hands, but not big enough to be overly concerning. “Mom told me to give this to you. She said Dad got to have his fun, but she wasn’t going to be outdone.”

“Why not give it to me herself?” Lucien asked as he stepped forwards to accept the box.

“They’ll see you before you leave.” Ty answered with a dismissive wave. “Open it!”

Obliging his best friend, the ribbon was pulled apart and Lucien pulled away the top of the box, eyes widening slightly as he did. A simple white mask lay within, with two clean holes for his eyes. He looked up at Ty and his friend rolled his eyes, stepping forwards to pick up the mask and push back Lucien’s hair, strong jaw locked in focus as he applied the mask to his face.

Like it were made of some strange adhesive, the material of the mask molded to his flesh as if it were a second layer of skin, adjusting in much the same way as his suit had. The material covered his face from just above his eyebrows to just below his cheekbones, contouring along them with two sharp strips that extended out to follow the line of his jaw, adding a dramatic scythe-like flair to the sides of the mask. His vision was perfect while wearing it, and it even contoured around his nose to stop short of the tip — avoiding any compression or covering of his nostrils.

“Yeah.” Ty said simply. “Now you’re fucking ready.”

When he turned to see himself in the mirror, Lucien could only agree.