I’d never learned how to deal with being the centre of attention, on the rare occasions when it was forced on me. Stage fright had been a real problem as a kid, to the point that my teachers in elementary school had quickly learned not to waste time giving me any speaking parts in plays. Luckily, acting as a tree turned out to be a talent of mine.

Seeing as attention was a fact of life for any superhero, I’d done my best to work through it. Exposure therapy was the name of the game, and by my second year of middle school, I could at least give a class presentation with only a few awkward stutters. Still, I was far from comfortable under the spotlight.

So I was surprised to find how unbothered I felt as Slash’s scarlet stare landed on me. A classroom of kids my age had my throat closing up and my hands going clammy, but the scrutiny of a villain with a body count barely merited any physiological reaction at all.

Oh, my heart was beating a little faster. Maybe my muscles were a mite tenser than they would be otherwise. And if you accused me of having a grin on my lips, I’d be hard-pressed to deny it—wouldn’t be able to stop either, no matter how serious I knew this situation was.

But I could only describe my current state as excited.

It seemed my own emotions were going to keep surprising me today. There was no time to interrogate that feeling, though. Had to focus on the crisis at hand.

My unexpected reaction was working to my advantage here.

I wanted him to know I was planning something and I was utterly confident in it, unruffled by the tense atmosphere. Get him thinking about my scheme and keep him guessing. That was much easier to do when I wasn’t scared out of my wits. I’d been expecting to need the performance of my life.

Ashika was giving me a searching look, lips pressed in a thin line. I didn’t dare try to communicate anything to her. No doubt she’d be furious at me for getting involved here, but I couldn’t keep hiding behind her strength forever. I could only hope she’d react fast enough when the time came.

“So?” I said. “Gonna surrender?”

“You know that’s not happening, kid,” Slash said. My appearance had stopped the four circling around him, but he was still turning, keeping up the illusion that he needed to be diligent of his surroundings. His signal was still like a wild animal smalling against the bars of its cage, just ready to be unleashed.

My attention fell to his claws, kept at finger length. His profile on the USHA database claimed he could extend them up to two metres, but noted in red font that wasn’t necessarily his maximum range and the details of his Aspects were unknown. His enemies here were well within his reach, but he was pretending they weren’t.

It was obvious he was holding back here, but why? He clearly had no compunctions about hurting kids. He’d said he wasn’t intending to kill the girl… Did that extend to the rest of us? I couldn’t reconcile that theory with what I knew of him.

I tried to think back, searching through an endless catalogue of nights spent scrolling through webpages, scouring the net for any info I could find on the superhero community. It was a hobby that had later become a refuge, a distraction I could lose myself in on those nights when insomnia was really kicking my ass.

Jason Maxwell. Slash. A villain with the power to project razor-sharp black claws in place of his fingers, able to extend them two (or more) metres in length. He was described as fast, strong, but not much of a tactical fighter. Temperamental, easy to rile up. A hotheaded brute.

And a crusader. He considered himself a man on a righteous mission: knock the heroes down a peg. There was no information on his background or the motivations for his goal, but I could make a few good guesses.

“So what’s this all about? Did Tempest cuck you or something?”

Or I could just make something up that would annoy him.

While Ashika boggled at me, Slash’s nostrils flared. “Don’t get cocky just because I haven’t cut down any of your little friends. It’s not down to their skill that I haven’t.”

I knew that perfectly well.

Time to take a risk.

“I’m sure you could beat up a bunch of teenagers if you wanted to. Will that make you feel better about being weaker than Tempest, though?”

According to USHA researchers and psychologists, there was a correlation between ranking on the Shimada Scale and the importance people put in their own power.

At the bottom of the scale, most people thought of themselves as weak and more often than not lived their lives as if they didn’t have any power at all.

At the very top, their immense power was just a fact of life. No different to the way anyone else thought about being able to walk. They had nothing to prove to anyone.

In the middle was where egocentrism became prevalent.

The thing was, something like 99% of humanity rated somewhere between F and D, and on the other end of the scale there’d only been 23 S-ranks on record. It was all too common for a C-rank to find himself a big fish in a small pond and develop an ego out of it. If you were the undisputed strongest in your Midwest town, maybe you got used to being treated a certain way. Maybe you treat other people a certain way.

Then you leave your pond and find out there’s an ocean out there.

There were problems with society and its relationship with superheroes, especially the strongest, but Slash didn’t strike me as the type to be concerned with morals.

If I had to put money on it, I’d guess this guy hadn’t liked the taste of humble pie, and he was trying to prove something. To himself, as much as anyone else.

Sure enough, Slash took the bait like a starved barracuda. He stopped to glare at me for a moment. “Watch yourself.”

Got him.

“Didn’t like feeling weak, huh?”

Slash snorted, returning to his slow rotation. I noted that he kept one of his black claws pointed at me, and his signal was sharpening.

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That probably should have been a terrifying realisation.

Instead, my grin widened.

“Oh, I’m far from weak,” Slash said. “When I get my rematch and cut off Tempest’s balls, we’ll see how smug you are.”

“Sure thing, pal. I bet Tempest didn’t even break a sweat when he beat your ass like a drum. You really think you’ve gotten strong enough to challenge him since?” I looked pointedly at the girl at his feet. “Seems even you don’t believe that, if you’re resorting to… whatever this is.”

“Emmett,” Ashika hissed, eyes wide as they flicked between me and the villain. Her signal fluttered as she briefly slowed, probably wanting to make sure she could come between us if it came down to that.

I ignored her. “So you kidnap his daughter and call him out to fight, is that it? Are you counting on him being distracted enough you’ll be able to close the gap between you? You’re in for a rude awakening.”

“Clueless little shit,” Slash said.

“You’re the one who’s clueless. There are laws in place precisely for scenarios like this one. If a superhero thinks their family is in danger, their leeway for reasonable force gets quite a bit wider.”

I would know. That particular federal law literally had my surname on it.

“You’re pissing off a guy who can call down hurricanes,” I continued, “and giving him permission not to hold back, you stupid fuck.”

“Cut the shit,” Slash said. “Make your play and get it over with, you ginger prick.”

I blinked. “I’m strawberry blonde, asshole.”

“Whatever. I’m tired of listening to lectures from some bratty wannabe who doesn’t know shit. Take your shot and I’ll show you how weak I am.”

“I dunno. I’m quite enjoying our chat, myself. Maybe I’ll put it off a little while, get to know you some more.”

“Sure about that?” Slash smirked. “Clock’s ticking.”

I paused, staring him down as he continued to turn in place. His power felt calm but ready.

Was this a bluff? I’d already figured he was waiting for the right moment to reveal the true extent of his ability, hoping to take down all his enemies in one go before he could get overwhelmed by superior numbers and unknown powers. Was there more to it than that?

My eyes darted side to side, searching for any clues. There was nothing, only luggage and blood strewn across the floors, and the aftermath of the short initial scuffle prior to the current stalemate. The world was still rushing past outside the windows—did he have backup waiting for him further down the line?

Movement on the ground drew my gaze.

For a second I thought it had been my imagination, but then it happened again. As Slash turned in place, he was constantly readjusting his footing. Whether out of paranoia or whatever else, he never seemed to step in the exact same spot twice. For the most part, he walked a circuit around the blue-haired girl’s—Tempest’s daughter, apparently—curled up form.

And when he strayed too close to her, she flinched.

It was so minute I could barely see it, the tiniest hunch of the shoulders, a slight wince, but now that I was looking and fucking thinking it was obvious. How would someone lose consciousness so quickly from getting slashed across the chest and stomach? They wouldn’t.

The poor girl had been playing possum this entire time, while I’d been bantering with Slash, telling myself I was stalling for time and waiting for the right moment, when really I’d been caught up in the unfamiliar, heady feeling of confronting a villain head on. I should’ve made my move the moment I’d formed a plan.

Fuck, I was an asshole.

Pushing away from the window, I slipped my hand into my pocket and rummaged around until my fingers closed around cold metal, then removed it and held my clenched fist out in front of myself. The other still held the long jacket over my shoulder.

“Let’s get this over with,” I said.

Everyone tensed, ready for whatever was to come. The five signals before me sang, rising to a crescendo. Slash stopped turning.

Then I swung my arm around with all the strength I could put into it.

The key clutched in my fist, sticking out between two knuckles, struck the window.

The trains in Foresight City had reinforced windows to make sure no one was sliced to ribbons in the event of an accident. However, making them completely unbreakable would also stop people escaping, and that too was an unacceptable safety hazard. Thus, they had release points. Hit them in the right place hard enough, and they’d pop out.

Of course, if they were removed while the train was moving, something was obviously wrong. There was a mechanism in place that would tell the train to stop.

And it was all mechanical. Pulleys, cogs, actuators, and motors. No software involved.

The train heaved as the brakes slammed on. Everyone was thrown off their feet like rag dolls.

Almost everyone.

As the only one who’d anticipated the sudden stop, I’d already been diving straight for where I guessed Slash would fall, lashing my jacket out in front of me. There’d barely been a few metres between us to begin with, and my leap was more than enough to cover the distance. From there it was a matter of simple hand eye coordination.

Reflex training at the gym paid off.

His signal erupted, but his claws were barely able to extend a foot before my jacket wrapped around them. I braced, half-expecting to have my torso torn to shreds as I threw myself atop it and put all my weight on holding the captured arm down, but felt little more than flesh.

As expected, there was a sensory aspect to his power. I couldn’t begin to guess at what visual feedback he actually got, but in some way he could see through his claws, presumably so that he could extend them wherever he wanted them to go, rather than just reaching out blindly.

With his hand covered, his power was blind. Rendered useless. Restored to flesh and blood digits.

There was only one problem, of course.

Slash bucked, and I looked up just in time to see his other, uncovered, and very much still clawed hand pointed at my head. One of his eyes had returned to normal, but the other was still red.

There was no sudden epiphany. No life flashing before my eyes. I didn’t get the chance to think of more than one word as his claws started to extend.

Shit.

“Fucker!”

Then a dark blur struck him like a meteor, slamming his hand aside. Signal blazing, Ashika only came to a stop half-way down the car, and she kept moving to maintain her momentum before making a turn at the end and charging back toward us, moving fast enough to blur.

Slash cried out in pain, but his punishment was only just beginning.

Before he could react to the new threat, yet another returned. A grey shawl snapped out and wrapped around his disfigured hand before he could extend it. The Latina girl dived on his arm and held it down, following my example.

With that, he was truly powerless.

And Ashika wasn’t the only one who looked ready to commit murder.

Flame-boy roared as he charged back into the fray. Half of his upper body was on fire, but instead he lashed out with a savage kick that struck Slash on the top of the head. The villain went limp, but neither flame-boy nor Ashika looked done.

“Stop!” I shouted, my voice coming out nasally and thin. I tasted blood on my lips, pouring from my throbbing nose.

Flame-boy had gotten another kick in by the time Ashika arrived to deliver one of her own.

Hers was much harder, leaping through the air like something out of an old martial arts movie. Slash’s ribs cracked. He wailed with pain, shrill.

“Stop!” I tried again, to no avail. I was dazed, a little woozy. Signals were blending together.

Ashika reared back for another hit, and I saw no other choice.

Sucking in a deep breath, I threw myself over Slash, using my body as a shield.

“STOP!” I roared at the top of my voice.

Ashika aborted her hit half way, going wide-eyed. She looked at me, then down at Slash.

“If you kill him, you’ll be a villain,” I wheezed out.

“I didn’t… I— Fuck! Emmett!” She dropped to my side, peering close into my eyes. Moving more gently than I ever could have imagined from her, she prodded at my nose. “What the hell were you doing smashing your face into the floor like that?”

I grinned. I couldn't help it.

“Saving the day,” I said.