Camila Johansen fought hard against the auto-assist steering as she careened up, down, and around the rocky slopes of western Montana. The tires squealed as the grav compensator strained to keep the vehicle upright and on all four wheels. She was driving a company car, a four wheel Adventurer with run flat tires, auto-deicing internals, and a suite of defense gizmos that, on their own, cost more than some single family homes. The thing looked like a beetle made from origami steel which was not her preferred style, but she’d take it for now.

  The countryside wasn’t her style either, nothing but rocks and cliffs and trees for miles upon miles.

  She would be driving the origami beetle for the foreseeable future, so she had no compunctions about putting the vehicle through its paces with some aggressive driving that would have left the Company quartermaster clutching his lugnuts. Considering how she felt about her employer just now, they were lucky she had a personal hatred for needless waste or the test might get more creative.

  The communications system cut into the playlist she’d had blaring all the way from the airport. A clipped male voice came on over the sound system.

  Call from Annabelle Valentino on the encrypted channel. Shall I put her through?

  “Yes, but keep the music, Banks”

  Yes, mum.

  Camila heard a soft tone indicating the connection being established. “Camila’s Gun, Whisky, and Banjo Emporium. How can I help you?” She asked in her best drawl as she swerved to avoid a patch of loose rocks.

  “Cammy? Did you get there yet? Does everyone have their teeth? Did you bring any bear spray? Hold on... is that… are you still into that dad-rock crap?”

  “No, I’m not there yet, so I can’t attest to the state of anyone’s dental health. Also, my dad would never listen to Guns N’ Roses, not even a few chardonnays deep.”

  “And the bear spray?”

  A little smile, her first in a while, wormed its way onto her face. “Oh I did one better. I sweet talked the Company into springing for a serious sidearm.” More like she raised holy hell about being sent to the sticks for her first assignment out of training, and the clerk desperately wanted her out of the armory.

  “Oo. The Mark II? Nice.”

  “Mm. It’s taking all my restraint not to go shoot something that looks vaguely like a member of the board.”

  “Talk like that’s going to get you on a list,” Ann teased.

  There was a pregnant pause in the conversation as Slash’s guitar solo wailed over the speakers. When Ann’s voice came back there was a sincere note in it that was comforting to hear. “Seriously, are you okay? The way you aced the exams I thought- Well, none of us saw this coming.”

  Was she okay? The Company’s training course was demanding, but she’d risen to the challenge more than any other member of her class. Always there with the answer. Constantly asking the tough questions. Hell, she’d become the junior captain of the class on day two. On the surface, the course was like any you’d see on a PMC farm, but Cammy knew their intelligence and physical capabilities weren’t the only things being examined. When the orders were passed down, she’d felt gutted. They were sending her to flyover country.

  She’d emailed the board asking if there had been some mixup, but they just replied with multiple very corporate variations of “This will be good for you” and “Please don’t contact us again.” What did that say about her? What did it say about her assigned super?

  Gritting her teeth, she forced out the words. “This will be good for me. I’ll be working my way from the very bottom all the way to the big leagues.”

  “The very, very bottom,” muttered Ann.

  “Hey! I’m going to make this guy a world-tier threat even if I have to drag him kicking and screaming into the limelight.”

  “I don’t know, Cammy. I’m looking at his file right now. He’s a dead end. A D-4 pyrokinetic. Psych profile has him as anti-social with next to no ambition. Almost zero power and capability growth over the past five years according to his PA. Codename’s not bad though. Firebreak.”

  “I’m not sure if I like it. May have to get it switched after some focus grouping,” Cammy said, already having done a little prep work in that department. “You know, after he makes it big and moves to a major metropolitan area.” At the very least, they needed a name that didn’t mean the opposite of what the guy’s powers were.

  “At least he’s hot.”

  Cammy rolled her eyes, an unwise practice on a mountain road, but Banks compensated to keep her from drifting. “I’m going to assume you meant that as a firestarter joke.”

  “Nope. He’s got that ‘hunky, brooding librarian with a dark past’ look to him that I am all the way into, and you know I get cold easily. He can warm me up anytime.”

  Cammy groaned “Please don’t say the word ‘hunky.’ No one has said that in real life since cell phones became a thing.”

  “I’m gonna bring it back. It deserves a second chance.”

  “Let the past die, Ann. How is your assignment though?”

  “Oh yeah! Lady Strella is an absolute peach. We’ve met twice, and we’re already buds. I’m gonna love working with her, but catching any of her powers on camera is going to be hard. We’re workshopping how to get it done, but so far the ideas are running expensive. Luckily, she’s already got a good following on her socials.”

  “At least yours has some idea about how the game is played.” Cammy looked down at the dash display. According to the GPS, she was about to hit the final ridge on her approach to what would be her new home for an undetermined amount of time. “Ann, I’m almost there. I’m going to take some notes as I descend.”

  “Sure. Call me back when you get settled, okay? Don’t be a stranger.”

  “I won’t be. I’ll call you as soon as I can. Later,” Cammy replied, and Banks disconnected the line.

  An oppressive, gray sea of clouds hung low in the sky. Alone on this road in the mountains, the clouds seemed to sag down until they almost brushed along the top of Cammy’s car. When the origami beetle crested the rise, she slowed to a stop at its apex. The mountain road dipped sharply to the right in a series of switchbacks that led down into a wide-valley with thick clusters of pine and scrub separated by shelves of rock and swift drops.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  Gregory Basin, the town that was her destination, lay down below in patches and ribbons of artificial color wherever the mountainous terrain allowed for stable construction, little strips of civilization laid across a vast panorama of practically untamed land. The citizens of Gregory Basin hunkered in a bowl of sorts with three passes leading out into the wider world, one of which Cammy drove through from the east, while the others led north and south between which a minor river spiderwebbed across the area splitting into several branches and reuniting here and there only to split over and over again. The rivers looked like cracks in the earth filled with a shiny black resin that kept the whole valley from coming apart.

  Cammy had been briefed on where that river led. She let her eyes follow the water through the valley and into the south pass. It was hard to make out, but the land and the air looked different there, discolored and distorted like she was viewing it through mustard colored stained glass. There was no delineated border per se, just a slow transition from terrestrial to alien over a mile or so of rough terrain. If she squinted, she could almost see a hint of movement on the side of the mountain, maybe the wind moving vegetation, maybe something else entirely. Intellectually, she knew she was too distant to see anything, but she couldn't help but imagine pale, crawling figures picking over rocks and sniffing the air. A shiver crawled, unbidden, up her spine.

  Studies and photographs could tell you a lot, but the unease the place evoked just on an instinctual level… The academics didn’t do it justice.

  This was the Scar. The wound in reality that gave Earth its first superheroes.

  Taking a deep breath and adjusting her grip on the wheel, she let her foot off the brake, allowing the Company SUV to start its descent. Time to get to work.

  “Banks. Pull up Firebreak’s tag and get me a route.”

  Very well, mum. Continue on your current heading for another three miles then turn south on Eckel Road.

  “Hm. His listed address is downtown if you’re very generous with the word, but that’s to the north. I assume this road doesn’t lead there?”

  No, mum. The address is residential but just outside city limits. Home of Brian and Patricia Maldonado. Satellite photos are available upon request. Cell phone records show communication between Patricia Maldonado and Joseph Jaeger (AKA Firebreak) earlier today.

  “No other communications between the two?”

  None in the records, mum.

  Probably not a social visit then.

  Cammy thought about going and checking into the motel then catching Firebreak when he was free, but the thought of sitting there in her motel room watching Bonanza when there was work to be done was something she couldn't stomach especially after so long brooding in the car.

  “Banks, we’re going to meet our man. Get me there.”

  Yes, mum.

  Joseph Jaeger didn’t know it yet, but he’d been assigned the most promising Company liaison in a generation.

  Weak powers. No ambition. It didn't matter. Cammy would make him a real damn hero.

----------------------------------------

  “So, when would you guess your house started feeling inhospitable, Mrs. Maldonado?”

  “Patty, please, Mr. Jaeger.” The woman wasn’t looking at him. Instead, she stared intently at the front door of her house, a safe distance away. Her eyes were sunken, and her posture indicated a level of exhaustion not experienced outside of one’s own personal hell. Clutched in her hands, there was a paper cup of untouched black coffee. Little tremors rippled through the liquid as Patty struggled to hold onto her composure.

  Firebreak felt for her. Chased from her own home by an extra-dimensional being and a family tragedy on top of that. He made a mental note to forget the bill when the time came.

  “Alright, Patty. You can call me Joseph.”

  “I know. Sorry. I got your name from Kathleen down at the ER. Her son comes to your shop. I didn’t know you did-“ she paused and waved her hand at the house, his truck, his padded kevlar anti-bite suit, and his bandolier. “I didn’t know this was what you did.”

  “It’s a part time thing. I know what it looks like, but I’m good at what I do. Now, how long has this been happening, Patty?”

  Looking down at her coffee, she seemed to consider taking a sip for a moment then thought better of it. “I first felt like something was wrong a couple weeks ago. Kept finding broken glass and nails in the carpet. At first I thought it was one of the kids.” She let out a little bitter laugh. “Yelled at my boy, convinced he’d been into Brian’s workshop.”

  No tears ran down Patty’s cheeks. She’d most likely done more crying in the past few days than most people did in a year. Her circumstances had wrung her dry.

  “Your husband is a handy man?” Joseph asked.

  A smile touched her eyes upon the mention of her husband. “Oh, yes. He fixes everything around here. Saves us a ton on repair bills. I bet half the fixtures and siding are Brian specials.” Seeing his unspoken question she added to her statement quickly. “That’s my pet name for his type of work. He doesn’t always have the tools or materials to do things properly, so he makes do with what we have.”

  “I see. Seems like a good guy to have around.”

  “He was-“ she said before she had a chance to catch herself. A horrified look passed over her face, and she made the sign of the cross over her chest. “He is good to have around.”

  Patty was teetering on the edge, Joseph could tell. Still, it would be rude not to inquire about the man’s condition, even if he already knew through his unofficial channels. “What’s his prognosis?”

  “The doctors say he’s stable, but he’s not awake. He was in a bad way when my boy-“ A sob choked off her sentence, but she soldiered on after a shaky breath. “My boy found him. Brian was all cut up and broken and whispering to Peter to get away. He wouldn’t even let him stay in the house to call the ambulance. He shouldn’t have had to do that. Not at his age.” It all spilled out of her like a guilty confession. The coffee dribbled over the sides of the paper cup and over her fingers.

  Firebreak didn’t have full access to the medical records, but Brian Maldonado suffered so many lacerations, punctures, and breaks he’d eventually been rolled into the hospital without a pulse. Only after hours of surgery and multiple splice-transfusions did he start to stabilize. Now the man was in a coma.

  Patty got herself under control admirably fast, most likely a practiced process originally for the benefit of her children. One breath she was heaving over the hood of Joseph’s truck, the next she was back to business. “Anyway, things got more and more dangerous over the next few days. Things like knives would go missing and turn up in our beds or something would chew on the wiring until we could smell smoke. That went on until we were finding razors stuck to door frames and light switches. We had to get the kids out of there. Went to the motel. The only reason Brian and Peter came back was to get the kids’ school books. I didn’t- I didn’t think to grab them when we left.”

  Firebreak pulled out a piece of notebook paper and a pen. “Can you give me a general floor plan for the house?”

  She put her coffee down on the truck’s hood, wiping her hands on her jeans. “Give it to me. I used to draw these things for my real estate job,” she said, some of her inner strength returning. Of all the things she could not control in her situation, this was something she could do. Joseph knew the feeling.

  He handed Patty the pen and paper, and the woman got to work. “Do you need to know where the furniture is?”

  “You’ve been out of the house for a week now?”

  “That’s right,” she said.

  “No. I don’t need it.”

  She continued to sketch out the floorplan. The lines were very neat, even though they were drawn on a rusty truck hood in near darkness. After about a minute of sketching, Patty spoke again. “Kathleen tells me you’re a super. Is that why you do this?” Her hand never stopped moving, adding an impressive amount of detail in a short time.

  “I’m a problem solver, more like,” he said as he slipped on his heavy gloves. Then Firebreak reached into the truck’s cab and grabbed his very illegal sawed-off shotgun, breaking it open to make sure the right shells were inside. Satisfied, he looked down at the finished map and committed it to memory.

  “You’re a super problem solver?” Patty asked tentatively.

  “I’m barely a super at all. Don’t get me wrong, Patty. I have an AHAB card, but I can’t do anything you can’t do with a cigarette lighter. Some folks aren’t meant to save the world, right?”

  “Well, you’re here to save my home, and that may as well be my world.” She gasped just seeming to realize something. “Did you say your power is fire?”

  “I guess this would be a bad time to ask you about your homeowners insurance,” Firebreak said slipping his mask down over his face and topping it all off with a repurposed hardhat. Before he got a chance to say he was kidding, the sound of tires crunching over gravel captured their attention.