On social media sites dedicated to cape news like Capebook and Superverse, there was a common theme among people who populated Signal Sensitivity sub-forums when they talked about people at the upper echelons of superpower.

Presence.

They talked about it as if it was a physical thing. As if the top superheroes were larger than life in more than just the metaphorical sense. As if you could feel the sheer power at their fingertips like it was a living thing in its own right, desperate to be unleashed like a great beast straining against its adamantine chains.

It was known as the S-Effect, because it was theorised that when someone got a high enough rating on the Shimada Scale and Levelled up high, their signal was so powerful that it started to manifest in the physical world. People claimed to have touched Runemaiden’s powersign.

It was humbling to feel it for myself. The way people talked about it online didn’t do it justice. Not even close.

The air was thicker this close to him, denser. Like I’d just stepped into the steam room at the gym’s sauna, except the vapour in the air was electrified somehow. At the same time, there was a weight to it, vast and overbearing. An irresistible pull.

My hair stood on end. Goosebumps prickled as static crawled over my skin. I felt smothered.

But not afraid. There was nothing intimidating about Tempest’s signal once I knew whose it was. If anything, it was relieving. Soothing. It exuded two clear messages. First, a warning to anyone who’d be stupid enough to mean him harm. To anyone else?

It was an assurance of safety.

I could see the reactions his presence elicited in the people here behind him, the way everyone seemed to relax, tense shoulders loosening and rushed steps slowing down.

So this is what an S-rank is like.

“Sir,” I began, but found myself at a loss for words.

What could I possibly say to this man when I’d left his daughter on the ground so I could live out my stupid fantasy of smack-talking a villain?

“I’d like a word with Mr Shaw in private, if you’d be so kind?” Tempest said, turning his attention to the two USHA officers and the shell-shocked paramedic for the first time.

“That shouldn’t be a problem. We’ve already got his statement anyway,” Officer Brady said, but he paused to give me a questioning look.

I nodded back. No point trying to delay the inevitable. There were always going to be consequences for how I handled things today.

“We’ll be just outside,” Officer Brady said, moving to leave.

Officer Hawkins just gave a cheeky grin before ambling off, pulling the curtain closed behind him.

“Don’t leave the tent until you’ve been checked over by another paramedic and given the okay to go,” the paramedic said before following them out. She pulled the curtain closed as she left.

Then I was alone with Tempest, and I didn’t have the first clue where to even begin. I knew I had to apologise, but how? What combination of words could possibly come close to redeeming myself in his eyes?

I couldn’t claim to know anything about his relationship with his daughter, but I had to assume they were on good terms if Slash’s plan involved using her as a distraction for something. That I’d wasted so much time surely had him furious. Honestly, I was expecting him to go ballistic at me at any moment.

Instead, he drifted around to the other end of the bed I was sitting on. His movement was eerie, more like he was gliding than actually walking. His ocean storm cloak trailed along the floor, but didn’t leave any hint of a wet patch in his wake.

Despite the situation, I couldn’t help wondering how that worked. Was he sucking up any water left behind? Or was his control so fine that there was no residue in the first place?

The storm on his body parted like the red sea at the chest, and a brown file binder emerged from abyssal depths, held by an arm made of churning black water. It flicked open, and Tempest turned his gaze to it. The sight of lightning flashing in his eyes as he scanned the text might have been comical in other circumstances.

God, that was so fucking cool.

Yet my stomach was doing flips. It took all my will to keep from fidgeting as I waited for him to speak. It was hard to think, so close to his overpowered signal.

It would be a lie to say Tempest was my all-time favourite superhero—there was no room for his posters on my walls with so much space taken up by the more flashy guys like Mr Gold, Runemaiden, and Merlin, not to even mention Valiant—but that didn’t mean I wasn’t a huge admirer of the man. His list of achievements was staggering, countless villains put behind bars, innumerable lives saved, the world always made a better place because of his existence. He was the real deal. World-class.

I couldn’t stand the idea of him thinking low of me.

There were murmurs of conversation beyond the curtain, all excited whispers. I dearly wished I could share in their enthusiasm.

“It’s really him!”

“One of the top heroes…”

“Wonder what he’s doing here…”

“... whole thing was targeted at him, according to—”

“Someone got hurt…”

I couldn’t take it any more.

“I’m sorry,” I blurted out, ducking my head. It was cowardly, but I couldn’t bring myself to witness his reaction. “I know my performance today was unacceptable. I delayed and wasted time when your daughter was injured, and I can’t even begin to make up for that—”

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“Alanna will be fine,” Tempest cut in.

I blinked, thrown off. “That’s not—”

“Look at me, Mr Shaw,” he said.

What else could I do but obey?

Tempest had moved a bit closer and lowered himself to my eye level—my mind immediately set to wondering whether he’d kneeled down beneath his cloak, or if he’d merged himself with the living storm like so-called insiders on Capebook said he could, or if he’d maybe sunk himself into a portal that led to the ocean and was really standing up straight. There were so many possibilities with a Level as high as his, so many Aspects available to him. He had to know so much about his power, about himself.

“Alanna will be fine,” Tempest said, snatching me from my spiralling thoughts. “One of Herakles’ proteges got her to Iaso, and she’ll have my daughter healed in no time.”

“Iaso? I wasn’t sure she’d be around…”

“Hm? Oh, you’re referring to the Olympians’ emergency deployment this morning? As I’m sure you know, Iaso isn’t exactly suited to rapid response. Besides, I got there before them and dealt with it, so they returned.”

“What was the situation?” I asked, unable to help myself.

“Just some villains causing a ruckus. They wanted to draw out the Olympians in particular, so they targeted a family member, I’ve been told.” He paused. “I’m entertaining the possibility that these incidents are connected.”

“A distraction,” I realised, eyes widening.

“Indeed. I heard this… Slash, was it? Wanted a rematch with me, thus his attack on my daughter. I didn’t stop to listen to what those other idiots were saying, but they had similar motivations, apparently.”

“Is… do you think this might be a new villain team, sir?”

That was always bad news.

“Possibly,” Tempest said. “But that’s not for you to worry about.”

I had to disagree, but I wasn’t going to say it to his face. “I want to apologise to Alanna.”

“Apologise? My boy, you rescued her.”

“It’s not—”

“Forgive me, but I’ve been listening in for a while now. I heard your story, as well as those of the others who contributed to her rescue, and I think I've gathered the full picture. I came here to thank you.”

There was a lump in my throat. The idea of one of the world’s greatest superheroes thanking me for my actions was ludicrous, something I’d been dreaming about since I was a little kid. It should’ve sent me over the moon. By all rights, this was supposed to be a life-changing moment.

And yet.

“But I left her,” I said with a tremor in my voice.

Tempest was quiet for a long moment, lightning eyes taking me in. Then his gaze strayed to the brown file he’d been reading from, and he let out a sigh. “Ah. I think I see the issue now.”

A lattice of lightning flashed across the cloud surrounding his head, and it started to lose its stormy darkness. Distant thunder rumbled. Hurricane winds blew apart the stormy skies, blowing away the last wisps of vapour. The whirlpools at his shoulders started spinning the other way, and the raging waters over his body receded upwards like the tide going out.

It struck me how normal the man looked. Greying black hair with a widow’s peak, brown eyes with drooping bags beneath them, a bit of sag to his cheeks. His grey suit was a little too big for him, unfitted, and his yellow-and-white striped tie was clearly a clip-on.

With a huff, he pushed against his knees to stand up straight—he’d been crouching after all—only to immediately sit on the bed beside me with a heavy thump. He let out a long, tired breath. His signal went quiet, but it wasn’t off completely. Calm like the eye of the storm.

“I worked with your father a few times,” he said, and I boggled at him. I might have been less shocked if he’d revealed Alanna was born from an illicit affair between him and Baba Yaga.

“He was one of the bravest heroes I ever had the privilege of calling my ally,” he continued. He wasn’t a very expressive man, I noted. I wondered how much time he spent with his face obscured by dark clouds. “He was selfless to a fault, stubborn as a mule, and completely blind to the nuance that could so often raise its ugly head in our line of work. To him, everything was black and white.” Tempest shook his head with a nostalgic smile on his lips. “But the world is a far worse place without him. I truly admired the man.”

“Yeah,” I choked out. My vision was starting to blur. “So did I.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there on that night, Mr Shaw. Emmett. There are many times I ask myself what if, and that mistake comes up more often than most.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. Wasn’t sure any words could have got past the lump in my throat anyway.

“I read the files. Watched the security footage. Listened to every interview and watched every documentary. Everyone emphasises his heroism, his sacrifice. How many lives were saved. It’s understandable, USHA doesn’t want people thinking too hard about how badly things can go if someone with a strong power goes villain, so of course they’re going to spin it that way. I’m more than accustomed to finding a silver lining in a stormy cloud.”

I swallowed with some effort. “But they don’t dwell on the survivors,” I said. “Just that they survived.”

“Quite,” Tempest agreed. “I was insensitive earlier. I wanted to encourage you, but I was too casual about Alanna’s state. Be assured I’m not an amateur, Emmett. I know encounters such as the one my daughter faced today are traumatising. Her care will not stop after getting healed by Iaso. I promise you that.”

“Might have been less traumatising if I didn’t leave her there on the ground while trading barbs with the guy who’d just cut her open,” I said, some heat in my voice.

A small part of me screamed in despair at showing anything less than perfect courtesy to one of the world’s greatest heroes, but I was feeling miserable enough it barely got any purchase in my mind.

“Your actions weren’t perfect. Your lack of training showed. But I’ll tell you a secret about hero work: the result matters most. Laws and protocols are there to guide you when you’re starting out and inexperienced, unsure of the best way to operate. As you deal with more and more crises over months and years, you’ll come to realise that nothing, nothing is more important than saving lives.” His brows furrowed, the most expressive I’d seen him. “Don’t tell Herakles I said that.”

I gave him a look. “When am I ever going to talk to Herakles?”

“When you attend Aegis Academy, of course. He’s far from a stickler for the rules, but Herakles believes in gradually building his students and proteges up to the realisation that the law is just a suggestion. He won’t ever put it that way, of course. But he’s been doing this as long as I have. He knows the truth.”

That was… what even was this conversation?

“You’re making a lot of assumptions,” I managed.

“How so?”

“How much does that file there say about me?”

“About as much as can be gleaned from power testing without violating privacy laws.”

My brow twitched. That was something to come back to later.

“So you know I’m below even F-rank? That I’m 16 and haven’t even had my first revelation yet? That I don’t even have a basic foundation, let alone an Aspect?”

“Yes.”

“I’m a pretty determined guy. I’ve worked my ass off to prepare for this; you wouldn’t believe how many sleepless nights I’ve had studying and researching. How many hours I’ve put into the gym, refining myself. It’s ruled my life for months.” I took a deep breath. “But I know the odds are still stacked against me. I’m practically a baseline human, and most of the candidates there are going to be like Ashika. Prodigies, I mean. Powerhouses. People with high ranks despite their age and abilities almost made for heroism. And a lot of them will have been working just as hard as I have. Why are you so confident I’ll get in over all of them?”

“Because you’re not going to be taking the test,” Tempest said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Whatever reply I’d been expecting, it wasn’t that. I had no retort to that beyond a “huh” sound that would’ve been called terrible acting if it was in a hollywood movie.

Tempest smirked.

“I intend to sponsor you for a spot in Aegis Academy.”