Loud. It was so loud. The roar of fire and steel and the breaking glass; the screaming and the crying that came before the whimpers and groans. The noise made it all the worse, even though the world was dyed grey. Everything in grayscale, except for the blood which was bright red. Too bright, just as the noise was too loud. He stepped through the glass and the man raised a gun towards him, he raised his hand but his power did not come to him. He saw red burst from his own chest and fell to the ground.

He was outside again, spring had come, but winter still held sway over the land; the perfect quiet that only a winter night can have still possessed the world. He raised his rifle and broke the silence, broke the glass, and stepped through. This time he was already swinging to shoot, he wouldn’t rely on his powers and he didn’t have time to understand why they were not working. He pulled the trigger, but nothing happened this time, and the man shot him. His armor, he wasn’t wearing it, why wasn’t he wearing it?

The third time, he survived, although he did not know how. But the screaming was louder, louder, and louder, what pain could cause a man to scream so loudly? What precisely had he do-

My phone’s alarm woke me up, but I was still half asleep as I scrambled to turn it off. It was unbearably loud, but that was the point. Experience had taught me that anything short of deafening noise would fail to wake me up; my phone’s alarm would only get louder until I turned it off. I needed my alarm to wake up at six in the morning, and that is why I fucking hated it most days.

Today though, I had never been more thankful for anything before. I had woken up absolutely drenched in sweat with my sheets a twisted mess. My nightmares were an unending kind of horror where I had to relive last night’s activities, but every time I did, something different went wrong. Sometimes, I got shot, other times, I made it back to my car only to be ambushed. Some of the more terrifying nightmares ended up with me being stalked by villains in my own house.

I would die in every one, and it would restart with me outside that sliding glass door again. This was not the first time that a nightmare, even one including my death, had failed to wake me, but it was the first time one had been so vivid or so terrifying. With my alarm off, I lay back in the dark room for a bit, calming my breathing and trying to slow my racing heart.

I couldn’t spend long doing that though. Sweat soaked sheets, twisted and messed up, are not the most comfortable things to rest in. I grimaced; my first day of spring break and my first day after my successful debut as vigilante and the first thing I had to do was laundry. It was so pathetically mundane that it was actually wonderful.

The chore of stripping my bed, gathering my clothes basket, and taking them to the laundry room was actually quite relaxing after that mess of a nightmare. I threw my clothes in as a load first, I had spare sheets to put on the bed and I’d need the clothes sooner; I tend to procrastinate when it comes to laundry, unfortunately, and I didn’t want to be left in just my sweatpants again.

I tossed my new sheets on to my bed and headed to the shower. As I got my thoughts organized, I planned my day out. Preparation was not just a motto for me, it was a mantra and a way of life. Not one I always lived up to, but one I always tried to accomplish. Apparently, I was on the autism spectrum- if on the highly functioning end- and with it had come somewhat of an obsession with plans and orderliness. Of course, my ADHD fucked with that hard, but I feel like my life was a little too good to complain all that much.

So I hit the bathroom, toss my ADHD meds into my mouth and wash them down with a cupped handful of water from the sink. I turn on the shower so that it can warm up as I strip out of my now thoroughly disgusting sweaty pajamas. The water feels great; the normal activities of the morning had really helped me to relax after I woke up and now that I stepped into the shower I was finally able to think about last night.

My nightmares had shaken me, but if those worries had any validity I would already be dead. Rochester might be growing like crazy, but there isn’t anywhere in the city or the greater area that you can not get to within an hours drive. If The Devil’s Boys knew who hit them, if they had tailed me home, they would have already been able to blow me sky high. Hell, even if I was attacked I am sitting on top of a small armory basically! Even leaving aside my own stuff, Dad had wanted to take the whole family hunting and had also purchased handguns for self defense. If you did include the weapons I had hidden from my parents there were, what, eight firearms in the house? A couple of pipe bombs and other improvised explosives, a couple of varieties of tasers, and my armored costume were all present as well.

So they had no idea who I was, and even if they did they couldn’t do shit about it. That is what I was trying to convince myself of anyways. I don’t think I ever really understood what false bravado was before this morning; I keep pumping myself up with both logical arguments and confident boasts, and I can certainly feel that. But under than thin veneer of confidence, almost reckless arrogance, was a deep pool of anxiety.

No matter how I thought about it, I was not able to get my mood into a better state than that; I tried until the water in the shower turned cold and I had to get out before I started shivering. I dried myself off, wrapped my towel around my waist, and headed back to my room to get dressed. Blue jeans and a long sleeve t-shirt, the latter branded by my school’s cross country team which I was regretfully a part of. It had seemed like a good idea at the time back when I was a freshman and I had been too damned stubborn to admit my mistake and quit. Actually, I had to correct myself there, I was still too stubborn to admit that I can’t run for shit compared to the leaders of the team unless I really put effort in and practiced beyond what I did for school.

Fuck that, I had barely ran since the cross country season had ended.

Breakfast was cold cereal at the kitchen table as I checked the local newspaper’s website. For a long time I hadn’t known that emergency responses ended up in the paper, and that the website actually had a running report of them as they got the information. I’m not sure how accurate it is, but my curiosity got the better of me and I had to check if my call had made it in.

Officers were called to South East Rochester at 9:49 PM on Friday night in a shooting incident involving multiple victims. Other information is currently being withheld citing an ongoing investigation.

That was probably it, all things considered. I was kind of disappointed actually, and a bit worried that the police might find me through the call. But they should only be able to do that when the device is on, and I had made absolutely sure that it had never been on, and broadcasting a signal, while I was at home. Not that being found by the police would be too problematic.

The laws might be in flux, but the Fellowship of Heroes had a very long track record of how they dealt with vigilantes. Vigilantes who hurt civilians got the hammer; the Fellowship line was that they were no better than the villains themselves. On the other hand, vigilantes who had only hurt criminals got a choice: they could either join the Fellowship and play nice as a hero, or get sent to prison. If I got caught by the Fellowship, I had no doubt I could parrot the party line. I might not be able to get and do what I want at that point, but I would have a steady job and I wasn’t about to go to prison out of stubborn idiocy.

I was a bit absentminded as I washed the bowl; I had made plans, but I had yet to consider the long term. Honestly, while I would like to imagine myself as preying on criminals for a long time, a more reasonable plan would be to grab as much cash from villains as I can and then join the heroes for my long term career. I honestly am unsure how to balance the risk and reward of all of this; the sharp divide between my desire for planned order and my impulsivity is almost painful.

With the bowl drying, I toss on my jacket and boots. Some simple wisdom I used to help prevent panic attacks: if the future is too complex to plan for, make the best choices you can and you won’t end up in a bad place. My friends and I are going to lunch later, and I said I would pay for it. So right now I have to get the money to pay for that.

I don’t want to deposit the money into my bank account right away, or to deposit all of it so that someone could link my actions, so right now it is all just sitting in my workroom. And oh, what a sight it is to see when I step into the room again and turn the lights on. I can’t sing to save my fucking life, and I can’t rhyme unless I have time to sit down and think about it, but looking at the money on the table I can truly understand how there can be so many rap songs about fat stacks of cash.

It is basically just ink on paper, but it has a gravity to it; I can’t help but look at the piles of money and smile. It is mostly broken up in twenty, fifty, and hundred dollar bills. Quite convenient for someone wanting to spend it, probably because it was spent by people on drugs. At first I think to take fifteen hundred in assorted bills to go out and play with, but it doesn’t fit in my wallet comfortably. A thousand barely does, so I probably need to get another wallet.

The only problem is that it only a little past seven, and I don’t have to meet my friends for another four hours. I have time to kill, and going back to make my bed isn't going to cover it. I do it anyways while I am considering how to spend my time; I have books and video games, but I still have that anxiety under the surface and I really don’t want to be alone. Maybe I will go to the bookstore while I wait? I hadn’t been there for a while, and there were more than a few series that had released new novels that I desperately wanted.

Actually, now that I think about it, my favorite author had released a new novel just a few days ago. That settles it, with the bed made and the lights off, I am off to the bookstore. It is also a short drive, I don’t actually live that far away from the city’s largest mall and that is where the bookstore is located. The place is always pretty packed; I actually can’t find a parking spot near the bookstores entrance and end up parking near the food court and heading in there.

Being surrounded by people soothes my anxiety away; I feel safe here, although I probably am not. Not all villains care much about whether or not people see them, or even if they have collateral damage in their attacks. Still, if my anxiety responded to reason it would not be such a problem, would it?

There are quite a few kids running around, or lounging about in the food court’s seats eating food and talking with friends. Spring, and perhaps more importantly spring break, has brought about a bright and cheerful mood about the place. The only damper on the mood was the hole in the crowd caused by people shying away from the eight foot tall mutant walking through. It is easy to shout about discrimination when you are sitting on the couch watching the news, but when eight feet of solid muscle with six eyes and a second pair of arms that end in clawed hands walks through, you make space. He might be the nicest guy in the world who rescues puppies and grows flowers that he picks when he visits lonely grandmas, but he looks like he can and will murder anyone who he even slightly annoys him.

“Hey, Max!” A voice calls me from a nearby table, “What’s up? Lookin’ to hang?”

“Rachel! How are you?” I replied cheerily, smiling to hide the fact that my anxiety had ratched up a notch and that my mind had kicked into high gear. Did she-? No, if she did she wouldn’t be so friendly. This is might be a good chance… “Actually, you know what? Why not?”

I grabbed a seat by her and her friends, ignoring the fact that they had a bubble of privacy around them much like the mutant did. None of them were actively wearing colors, but all the kids here had the look of the gangs and people usually avoided trouble. I knew a few, mostly gangster wannabes and druggies more than anything else.

“I’m just killing time before meeting Jason and that group later,” I said as I sat down. “Meeting you will be a hell of a better time than wandering around by myself.”

“Damn straight,” she snorted and then introduced me to the ones I hadn’t met. “Guys, meet Max. Yeah, he’s a fucking nerd, but he’s cool.”

“Fuck you, I’m hardcore!” I laugh, “have you ever even held a gun?”

“Max. You went hunting with your dad once. Three fucking years ago, did you even shoot the thing?”

Oh, if she only knew. But that isn’t the kind of person I try to portray to her and her friends. Instead, I just scoff and admit defeat.

“I’m the one who has held a gun, and yet she is the one shooting me down,” I lament to the others. “And here I was thinking that with my parents out for break you might actually convince me to go to one of those parties you keep talking about!”

That got a laugh out of the group, but Rachel’s friend Cal, did not even though Rachel herself smirked.

“Party’s canceled anyways,” Rachel said, leaning back. “Place got whacked, heard that the bosses are madder than shit.”

“Its not something to fucking smile about,” Cal half-snarled. Where Rachel was a rather pretty girl- a long haired dirty blonde with bright eyes and an unidentifiable bit of a tattoo peeking out from her shirt’s collar near her right shoulder- Cal was flat out ugly. He probably didn’t start out that way, but his face was such a mass of piercings that I often wondered if there was more metal than skin. “I live by there, remember? Shit went fucking down and someone shot the place the fuck up.”

“ Well fuck that then. I was curious to know what the fuss was about; I am not about to take a bullet for it. Was it a police shootout or something?” I lean back and hold my hands up slightly in front of me, as if I want nothing to do with it.

“Money’s on another group,” Cal shrugged. “But I ain’t about to ask questions; I had talked them up over joining, but I know better than to ask stupid fucking questions.”

Interesting. I would have thought that they would have pegged me as a vigilante. If they thought I was someone from another gang then that was fucking great. I was even more in the clear than I thought I was. Not that Cal was a direct line into the gang’s thoughts, but he certainly knew a fair amount. He had to, where he lived.

“Heard rumors that this might spark a war,” a larger guy at the end of the table, one I didn’t know, spoke. “Everyone’s been on pins and needles the last few months. Something fucking big was fucking building, and this shit might just spark shit off.”

Honestly, I am not sure how I felt about that statement. Would that mean that I might spark a gang war? I doubt that there would be one, but even if it happened, I wouldn’t be convinced it was my fault. Shootings happened every day, if all the spark that was needed was two low level drug dealers getting a shot and few thousand dollars being stolen than the war was inevitable anyway.

“A war? With Northernwind in the city? Unless Haggler or one of the other Big Three get involved it will be put down hard.” I pointed out. The thing about heroes and villains is that while numbers can be important, some supers had powers that outclassed the rabel so much that numbers became irrelevant.

Northernwind was a superhero, and the leader of the fellowship in Rochester. Her powers allowed her to control snow, ice, and wind on a scale that could swamp a city. If you had not seen a real Minnesotan blizzard, this probably wouldn’t mean much, but any intelligent person would rather run naked out into a natural blizzard than fight her. If a war broke out, she would freeze all sides to the ground and it would all be over save for thawing them enough to throw in the paddy wagon.

Unless one of the supervillains that make up the Big Three showed up anyway. The Big Three were the most powerful supervillains in Minnesota and one of them, Haggler, was known to operate in Rochester. The exact nature of his powers weren’t known, but it was well known that he had a powerful suppression effect. If he fought Northernwind he would be able to turn her furious blizzard into a mild flurry.

“Ha! You think that bitch is really much of a threat?” The man laughed, “the bitch is strong, sure, but she is a hero too. If she goes all out, who knows how many civis will become icicles?”

A fair point, that. Still, Northernwind can control her powers well, if the public information about her is to be believed. The conversation continued for a while and I ended up leaving to go to lunch without getting my book! Well, I’ll have time afterwards I suppose. Another short drive and I am by the small artificial pond that Binky’s overlooks. It is kind of a pity that it is not summer yet, if it was warmer we could have sat outside.

I had arrived at the same time as another one of the group, a brown haired girl who was almost as tall as I am and far thinner, and I waved and greeted them.

“Cindy!” I smiled, “It is good to see you! How are you doing?”

“Well enough,” her tone was bemused. “You are acting like we haven’t seen each other for a while. It was just yesterday, you know?”

Yeah, it was, but damn did it feel longer than that. I’d said goodbye to her as school ended, right before I went to catch the bus but it felt like weeks had passed.

“I was bored out of my skull last night and this morning,” that was a somewhat true statement. “I’m a bit more happy about seeing everyone than usual.”

“Pfft, you can’t even sit still for a full day? Sounds about right for you!”

I open the door for Cindy and walk in, looking around the crowded room and I see Jason waving me over to where the group was sitting.

“And that’s Cindy too,” Jason gave Max a smirk. “You sure you want to pay for everyone? Everyone’s here, and I am not about to hold back my appetite if its on your dime.”

“Bask in my largesse mortals,” I say as I pull up a chair. “Worship me and unto you I will deliver my bounty!”

“Word choice Max,” Mark laughed, “It sounds like you are asking us to suck you off.”

“I’m sorry, no matter how much you beg, I have standards Mark.” I put on a pained look of regret, “But instead of my stick, what about mozzarella sticks as an appetizer?”

Now that is something we can all agree on as I settled in. Everyone really was here; kind of a miracle considering our conflicting schedules. Cindy sat down on my left, and Jason was too my right. Jason was a pretty regular guy with blonde hair and glasses, and to his right was Mark; Mark was tall, thin, had long brown hair and kicked my fucking ass in cross country all the time. Also, despite the fact he was so thin that people worry if he is anorexic, he would probably eat as much as any three of us.

Then there was Jacob, brown hair and fat, but smart and with great humor; Mira, who somehow managed to make long and poofy hair look good, and, honestly, was a goddamn bombshell. Tall, lithe, and with curves that are flat out sinful for people our age. She also had one of the coolest tattoos I had ever seen, white ink vines over the dark skin of her left arm from wrist to shoulder, it was striking to say the least. We dated for a while, but our personalities didn’t really mesh, she was too nice. I still looked though.

To Mira’s right was Sarah, who was in some ways her complete opposite. Only five feet tall and so pale that we joked she would start sparkling any day now. Her black hair went all the way down to her hips, and she dressed way better than the rest of us. She looked like she had walked out of a fashion magazine, whereas most of the guys were in jeans and Mira was actually wearing yoga pants.

I say most of the guys because Eric was also dressed up. Dark button up shirt and tie, pants with a belt, his brown hair cropped short, his parents forced him to wear clothes like that. Honestly, it might not be the most comfortable, but he had never had a problem finding a girlfriend.

Case and point, his current girlfriend, Anne, was sitting next to him. She was a quiet girl with long brown hair and glasses, except for when sports were involved, in which case she was a fucking maniac. But she did have the best parties.

We called our group, “the group.” No, it wasn’t very imaginative, but we needed a way to refer to ourselves collectively considering how often we did things together. We were all mostly good people. Sure we had our quirks, but we got along and had fun and that was enough for us.

“Jokes aside,” I say as things calm down slightly. “Order whatever you want, I am paying for all of you.”

“You don-” Eric started to say, but I interrupted him.

“Don’t even bother arguing Eric, I’m not giving anyone a choice today!”

“Your funeral,” he shrugged. “I guess I’ll get a steak for lunch then!”

“I keep saying we should go somewhere that serves seafood,” Mira gave a sort of vague gesture that seemed to be trying to indicate a different restaurant. “We could have all ordered lobster or crab or something else that is horribly expensive.”

“I think that new sushi restaurant downtown that caters to doctors probably has the most expensive food in the city,” Cindy contributed. “Next time Max says he is going to pay we shouldn’t spare him!”

“You ladies are just cruel,” I laughed. “Mira, dear, I thought you liked me enough to not slide the knife in!”

“Sushi is great,” Jason elbowed me in the side to emphasise his next comment. “I’m all for knifing Max for sushi, anyone against it?”

Anne was about to raise her hand, and saw that no one else was, and put it down. Ah, teenage appetites; only one of my friends wouldn’t want to stab me for food, but she would since everyone else was going to anyway. My only response to that was an obscene gesture towards the group.

“Fuck you guys, I know the place you are talking about. Fifty bucks for a plate is robbery! Mira might be able to convince me to pay for her but the rest of you are on your own.”

“It's not just Mira, Max.” Jason had a mischievous smile, “Your pretty damn week to girls, you know that man? You’d probably pay for all the girls at the table if they asked you to take them there. Frankly, as your best friend, I’m hurt that you wouldn’t for me!”

“When you look half as good as they do, I’ll consider it.” Under assault from all sides like this, there wasn’t much I could but riposte as best I could.

We ordered, we talked, and we had a good time. I didn’t get anything complicated, just a burger, but damn it tasted good. Eric was joking that food always tastes better when bought with other people’s money, and I think I have to agree. The burger tasted sweeter when I knew that it was purchased with money grabbed from drug dealers who were now rotting in jail.

“So what are your plans for break?”

That question made the rounds for the table and I had to think about my reply.

“Well aside from visiting the new art gallery, it is mostly boring work around the house that I have to do.” I am going to need more things to do to fill my days; sure, the way time felt last night seemed to speed up and slow down whenever it wanted to, but the actual amount of time I actually spent out was just a couple of hours. An obvious mistake in hindsight.

“Oh? You are going to visit the art gallery too?” Mira seemed interested and so did Sarah. “I was thinking of visiting, but I hadn’t found someone who wanted to visit. I forgot to ask either you or Sarah because you two are generally gone for break.”

“Heck, my afternoon is free.” I said, leaning back. “If you want, we could go after lunch; if you don’t have plans with whomever gave you a ride here.”

“Eh, I can’t go with you.” Sarah sighed, “I am here today, but after this I am heading to the cities to visit my cousins. I won’t be back until school starts.”

“I don’t mind though,” Mira answered. “Sarah gave me a ride here, but she was just going to take me home. If you’ve got time, that would be pretty cool.”

And of course, because all of our friends were such delightfully juvenile individuals, the two of us got a chorus of suggestive comments and snickers. Mira and I just rolled our eyes; we were friends for a while, dated for a time, broke up and stayed friends. Now, anything we did as a pair got us a bunch of waggling eyebrows from the group. No one else seemed to buy our words when we said that we were just friends. And we really were just friends. Extremely close friends true, but there wasn’t any romance there.

The bill came, a bit over two hundred dollars, which wasn’t too bad given our numbers. I had the waitress hold on a second when she brought it, took three hundred dollar bills and handed it all back to her saying, “keep the change.”

That certainly seemed to make the waitresses day, and seeing that is always a good feeling. We sat and talked for a while, slowly peeling off alone or as pairs. I left with Mira, opening the door for her to get into my car.

“You always do that Max,” she noted. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you open a door for Jason or Mark, but you always do for us girls.”

“Blame my grandfather,” I said as I started up the car, turning back to make sure I didn’t slam into anyone as I backed up. “He drove the idea of opening a door for a lady so hard into my head that it is just habit now.”

“I think you are just a pervert, honestly.”

“How does that even-? Nevermind, I only touched your ass once! We were dating, and you remember the mood we were in at the time, I did nothing wrong!” I defended myself with humor and a bit of exasperation. Unfortunately, the exasperation was probably the point.

“I know, but that won’t stop me from teasing you with that for years.”

Exactly as I thought, she is doing it just to exasperate me.

“Fuck it, even knowing that I regret nothing!”

“And that, right there, proves that you are a pervert.” She said smugly, and I could only sigh and cut my losses while admitting her victory there.

Downtown Rochester had traffic that was heavier than its population would generally imply, probably because such a huge percentage of the population actually worked in this area. And of course, that also meant that parking was a pain in the ass, but I managed to find a parking space in a parking garage that was only a short walk through the sky way to the gallery.

It was a new building, like many of the buildings downtown, and was intended to be part art gallery and part art museum; it was intended to help expand the cultural scene of the city. But after we entered, I honestly had to say that it had failed horribly.

“They call this art? Fuck me, why am I bothering going to school? If all it takes for art is a blank canvas and then I am a millionaire then I am wasting my time!”

I had Mira giggling at my frustration, it probably was quite funny to see from the outside. I, on the other hand, found this horrendous excuse for modern art to be offensive. It was literally just a fucking blank canvas; that isn’t art! How could you call it art!? Fuck me, and I thought that the best way to get rich was to rob villains. Apparently, I was an idiot and the so called artist of this so called work was the real genius.

Thankfully, the rest of the gallery was filled with real and interesting art. Everything from beautiful glasswork and statues to very traditional paintings and more were here. It really was an impressive collection, I might have to take back my initial condemnation.

Mira seemed to be enjoying herself as well. Most people would see the yoga pants, tattoo, and skin color and think she was not a very cultured individual. That could not be further from the truth, she enjoyed both music and art and could speak about the former at length. Hell, even the yoga pants were worn because she actually does yoga. I tried to join her once and pulled a muscle; I swear she is a fucking contortionist.

“Max,” she sighed. “You are checking me out again.”

“Sorry, but you know-” I stopped when she put a finger to my lips.

“Max, if you say you are just admiring art in an art gallery I am going to have to hit you.”

“Even if I meant it?”

“Yup. I’m hitting you for the pun after all, not for the sentiment.”

I have to sigh again. I swear this woman can read my mind.

“No, you are just really easy to read sometimes. In certain situations, your thoughts are simple.”

No! You are a mind reader! Oh god, forget the fact that she would know I was a vigilante, I would be far more embarrassed if she knew all the thoughts I have had about her. A teenage boy seeing a beautiful girl? Yeah, just because it is obvious that I had the thoughts doesn’t mean I would want people to know them. There is a reason people learn to be polite enough not to say everything that they are thinking!

“And now you are thinking about tacos, because of that one cartoon.”

“I know you can’t read my mind,” I laughed a little too loud, lowering my voice again when other viewers at the gallery glared at me. “I remember telling you what goes through my mind when people manage to guess what I am thinking, and I know you remember it.”

“And even knowing that, you still partially fall for it.”

“I have to admit,” I answered ruefully. “It has reached a point that I am partially convinced you are a cape with mind reading powers. It isn’t impossible, but I feel like you would hit me more if you knew what I was thinking all the time.”

We walked under a skylight, having an enjoyable time, and the skylight shattered behind us. We spun around as a mutant landed on the floor, I pushed Mira out of the way just in time for her to avoid getting hit. Myself, on the other hand, got a fist to my solar plexus and flew ten feet and into a wall. I slid down to the ground, my hands wrapped around my stomach, throwing up my meal. I could have blocked that, but I wasn’t thinking. My instinct was to protect Mira first, but I could have done both if I used my power.

Mira scrambled over to me, kneeling down beside me as minions came down on ropes from the skylight. No gangbangers or drug dealers these, we were looking at professionals.

“No one move!” The mutant bellowed, his voice like a megaphone. He wasn’t that tall, but he was covered by chitinous plate armor and looked incredibly intimidating. “Everyone just sit still for a few minutes and let us do our jobs, and we can all be on our way.”

Then why the fuck did you punch me in the stomach you asshole!? I knew why though, I was too close to their point of entry. Still, fuck him.

“Max!” Mira put her hand on my shoulder, “Max, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” I lied, fucking shit my ribs hurt. My shoulder that hit the wall to, fuck! “Just stay down and stay behind me and we will be fine.”

Wincing, I managed to get into a sitting position in front of her. Had we somehow walked into a heist? I couldn’t believe it, city hall and the Fellowship headquarters were a mere two blocks away! This wasn’t brazen- it went far beyond that- it was reckless and insane.

The Rochester branch of the Fellowship was home to sixty some heroes and there would be somewhere between twelve to twenty four heroes there at any one time; The greater Rochester area never had less than forty heroes to remain parity with the local villains. The remaining twenty heroes patrolled further out, even if they were based in Rochester. The entire bottom third of Minnesota, as well as parts of Wisconsin and Ohio, were part of the Rochester heroes patrol.

It wouldn’t even take five minutes for this place to be flooded with heroes, which was probably why this location was chosen for the gallery. All this expensive art was a magnet to villains, but this location should have been safe.

I knew these guys were a higher class than the local crowd, but I soon realised they were more than just a cut above. All the non-mutant minions were outfitted similar to I would be in my costume, just minus my trench coat. They wore body armor, helmets, gas masks, held rifles in their hands and they weren’t the semi automatic variety. Hell, even the mutant who had slugged me was wearing a combat vest! He lacked a lot of the equipment that the other minions had, but mutants never had an easy time finding equipment that would fit them.

My thoughts stopped as a man dressed like an old time plague doctor walked by. I didn’t recognize the costume, but the quality screamed supervillain. Behind the plague doctor, there was another masked man and two more hulking mutants. The second masked man wore a suit and a faceless black mask that covered his face; he was another villain I did not recognize.

They didn’t even glance at the pair of us cowering on the floor as they walked briskly towards the stairs, but they didn’t make it that far. Someone leaped up the stairs, bounced off the ceiling, and landed in front of the villains. Now this kid I recognized. He wore a skintight red bodysuit, with white stars outlined in blue running from his right shoulder down to the left side of his hip, getting bigger as they went down. His mask covered his entire head, and his face was covered by another white star.

Honestly, the stars and stripes color scheme and design was overdone, but this hero did have something that distinguished himself from the rest: his bodysuit only went down his legs and arms halfway over his thighs and biceps respectively, so that most of his arms and legs were bare skin.

And he definitely was a kid too. Younger than me, although I had no idea by how much, his age was not public. His voice and height gave him away to a certain extent though.

“I’ve no idea what you hoped to accomplish here,” Whipersnap spoke with confidence. “But you aren’t going to get what you want.”

“You should just surrender peacefully,” another voice said from behind the group, a woman with a purple suit that was covered in twisting black arrows. Flipside, she had probably came through the skylight. “But villains never do.”

“Indeed,” the plague doctor replied evenly; his voice was collected, calm, and cultured, with just a hint of a foreign accent. “I feel that surrendering to the pair of you would be awfully premature; really, it is you who should stand down, I prefer not to kill kids and I am rather unsure how much I can hold back.”

“The others will be here soon enough,” Whipersnap declared.

“Hmmm,” the man seemed amused by that. “Now, now, we both know that is a lie. My coworkers will be entertaining them elsewhere; your bluff cannot even be called empty.”

“Hey, Mira,” I leaned back to her and whispered into her ear while the standoff continued. “When the fight breaks out we are going to crawl back to the skyway, okay?”

She was shaking, I was shocked to see that she was crying silently. Unfortunately, this wasn’t the time for tact, I gave her a light shake.

“Listen, we are going to be alright,” I whispered urgently. “We crawl, hands and knees. If you see me start to run, follow me.”

That got a nod, and just in time too.

“Well, here we go then.” Whipersnap spoke as his arms stretched. That kid had won the lottery when it came to powers. First off, he was a mutant, but one of the rare few that looked completely human on the outside. His mutations made his bones stronger and flexible, gave him strength comparable to low class powers, and even minor regeneration. On top of all that, he had a power too. Whipersnap’s power gave him increased strength, made him more durable, and allowed him to stretch his limbs to quite a length in an instant.

It doesn’t sound very impressive listed off, but Whipersnap took all of those disparate tools and turned it into something special. His arm blurred, and the tile where the plague doctor had been standing a moment ago shattered to dust. Whipersnap’s other armor lashed out at one of the mutants, sending it flying into a wall just like I had been a moment ago. Harder than that even, because the mutant slumped to the floor and didn't move after that.

“Crawl!” I pulled Mira after me, “Come on!”

The minions raised their guns to shoot at the two heroes, but no sooner than they had the rifles flew out of their hands and stuck to the ceiling. Flipside had disarmed them with a glance, as befitted a woman whose power allowed her to change the direction and strength of gravity for any target she could see. Supposedly, there were limits to her power, but those weren’t publically available details. Her information page only noted, perhaps for the humor value, that Flipside did not really fly. Rather, she fell in the direction she wanted to go.

The fight had begun in earnest now, but I didn’t sit around and gawk. Mira and I crawled, sometimes over the bodies of unconscious minions, and used the pedestals that had held pieces of art as cover from the fight around us. As for the other visitors to the gallery, besides Mira I didn’t spare them a thought. They could find their own way out. I had enough trouble trying to focus on the fight and escape while making sure that if something came our way I was ready to block it.

Thankfully, no one paid even the slightest attention to us as we left the room. We crawled through another room, and we were out of sight of the fight. Not far away from it though, the crashes and the occasional gunshot were loud and clear.

“Ok, we run the rest of the way to skyway,” I grimaced as I got up, fuck my ribs hurt! It didn’t help that I had to help Mira to her feet. She might have been physically more healthy than I was, but her panicked shaking was making it difficult for her to keep her feet.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you.” I tried to be soothing, but honestly I don’t think I managed it. My own state of mind wasn’t much better, even with the knowledge that I had the extra security of my power and I probably needed to see a doctor about my ribs; I don’t think I managed soothing, but I think I did manage to not sound panicked and hurt. I would take what I could get, I pulled her arm over my shoulder to help her balance and we did some approximation of a hobble and a jog towards the skyway.

“Freeze! Put your hands in the air!”

There were already police in the skyway, guns drawn and shouting commands. Which one was I supposed to obey? Do I not move or do I raise my hands? I had to remove my hand from Mira’s waist to do it, but she was able to stay on her feet as we both stopped and raised our hands.

“Don’t shoot! We just want to get out of here!” I shouted, realising after the fact that shouting at cops responding to a villain is probably a good way to get shot. Thankfully, I didn’t get myself shot and instead Mira and I were able to pass through the police cordon to be bustled into an ambulance that had just arrived.

Mira had insisted that I go to the hospital, and honestly I had to agree. I didn’t feel like I was seriously hurt, but I didn’t feel great either. My thoughts were wandering, and I found myself debating whether or not I would feel like I was injured after the adrenaline wore off.

“You may, but if you would please lift your head up?”

Had I been talking out loud? Who was tal- No, it would obviously be the EMT. A hand gripped my chin and tilted my head up, shining a light in my eyes. I had never thought about how loud the siren was from inside an ambulance before.

“Confusion, dilated eyes, he’s in shock. Was he injured?” The EMT wasn’t asking me.

“A mut- mutant punched him in the chest.” Mira answered, stuttering a bit at first. “Max was hit so hard that he was thrown against the wall.”

“Where was he hit?”

“His chest, will he be ok?”

“Hopefully,” the EMT said, and I certainly hope so too. She started talking to someone else, neither Mira nor myself. “Call ahead to radiology, were coming in with a chest injury and the doctors will need imagin-”

She was still talking, but I couldn’t really understand the words. Someone was gripping my hand, but the world was blurring; Darkening. I blacked out.