I found out that regular gloves were ready for me after I was done training with Amir.

I put them on, and they felt surprisingly off. Especially compared to the ones I used to have. The pads at the top of my fingers were a bit too small, and the whole things felt just a tad too snug on my hands. The texture grated against my hands, making me itch–literally–to take them off.

I shrugged off all those feelings and thanked the technician that gave them to me. At least I wouldn’t be stuck with my costume’s gloves while I wasn’t wearing it.

For as long as I was in my civilian form, I’d be Alex Adamos. No sign of Moros anywhere.

Alex Adamos, sitting in the cold, vast, packed airport. It was the day after my first session with Amir. I’d spent the whole morning with Sadid, planning for his sister’s visit, before going to Ahmed to show him the article Kent Smith wrote.

And then I got here. Every fibre of my being wanted to go to sleep. Even through the bustling sounds and the shivering of the people. Through the strangely good smell dominating the whole place. But I could feel the shifting of Birgit’s leg as it brushed up against mine.

I turned to look at her. I’d seen her go through life altering exams, fight multiple supervillains, and listen to me rumble about whatever madness was going on in my life.

I’d never seen her so scared. With sweat pouring down her face, and her hand feeling even colder than usual.

I placed one of my own, uncomfortably squeezed in my gloves, on her bouncing thigh, stopping it.

“It’s the worst phrase someone can say in times like this, but I know everything’s going to be okay.”

“It’s not,” she said. She turned to me. “Don’t be an idiot. They’ve been planning for this my whole life. I’m not my brother. He’s not even here and they won’t care! I don’t have that luxury. Maybe I shouldn’t do this. They can find out I changed my career course when they see me on TV. Then I’ll have made a name for myself, and they won’t be able to use any dirty tricks to get me to do what they want.”

I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. And it hurt me more than Paragon’s punches. Because, more than sleep, that was what every fibre of my being wanted to do: Help.

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Help anyone and everyone. Birgit–whom I was so close to–I wanted to help more than most.

Because I never went through this. There were right words here. Words that’d help. But they weren’t ones I could say. So I just sat there, waiting for Lady Flame and her husband with her. She snuggled closer to me and we both sighed. She closed her eyes and I did too.

A moment of peace. The temperature rose just a bit. By now I knew that was a good sign.

I just hoped that it was enough.

“A bit too clingy there, aren’t you, boy?”

A similar voice in a similar growl and snapping tone got my eyes to open. Blue eyes like the ones I’d seen that day when Lady Flame beat up that guy. Her pitch black hair wasn’t in flames, and she was wearing a white tank top, staring daggers down at us.

A shorter stocky man with red and blue short cropped hair was sitting next to her. His suit was split in these colours as well, with a red jacket and pants, as well as a blue shirt and tie.

I focused on him. On his whole body, his laugh at his wife, but I couldn’t place him. He wasn’t a hero like Lady Flame? I stole a few glances at her, but I didn’t want to stare. Make it look like I recognized her.

She wasn’t a good person–or at least a good mother from everything I knew–but I still wanted to see her normal life. Peeking behind a hero to see their secret identity was always something I wanted.

I couldn’t help but think of Alpha Surge. What had he been like out of uniform? I just hoped he hadn’t been like Lady Flame.

“Pardon my wife’s manners,” he said with a thick accent and a big smile. He raised a hand, showing a rolled up cigarette in between his fingers. “Birgit? Introduce us.”

She scrambled to get up and dragged me along, causing us to almost fall.

“Kæ-I mean, Alex, this-these are my parents!” She was fumbling, and I had almost never seen Birgit so flustered and fumbling. “Ulf and Lisa Paulsen. Moder, Fader, der er min-min meget gode ven, Alexander. Jeg har fortalt dig om ham.”

“Friends don’t snuggle like you two were, datter,” said Birgit’s father. “We are not as stupid as you think. We realised you and your ‘friend’ were dating a long time ago.”

Another laugh escaped from his throat. Birgit shivered at the sound. I wanted to reach out and hug her, and I could tell she wanted the same on how her body twitched.

“It is nice to date someone in an environment like yours,” he continued, “as long as you remember your true goals. People like us cannot afford to go too far from our paths. Not while we are young at least. Based on what I have seen, Alexander, you understand that.

“So, if my daughter is to date someone from these four years, I am glad it is someone like you.”

And now I understood what Birgit meant about her father. Every word out of his mouth was fake. He was good, but he had nothing on Charles. I didn’t mention any of that of course. I just smiled and thanked him for his kind words.