I ambled home, barely cognizant of my surroundings. The thoughts were a tangible storm in my head, tossing in multiple waves. I was back in my blue shirt and jeans, having ditched the jersey and pants sometime during my flight.

I’d been lied to. It was a strong possibility. Thugs like Gunner were renowned for being defiant and talking out both sides of their mouths. So why did I feel disappointed in myself?

Mike had identified Gunner. I would take his claim over the latter's declaration of innocence. But then, there was the fact that I wouldn't recognize any of the muggers from yesterday if I walked past them on the street. Mike . . . Mike was certain, but it had been dark and raining. If he was wrong, it meant I’d attacked people I had no quarrel with, bringing them grievous harm in the process. It was a sobering thought.

I fished the house key from behind the potted plant and let myself in. Mom was yet to return, and the television was the only bit of lighting visible in the house. I peered into the living room in search of Nenye, turned and—

“Jeez,” I said. “You scared me.”

Nenye stood in the passageway, staring at her feet.

“Hungry?”

She nodded.

I walked past her, heading for the kitchen. Then it struck me: I hadn't gone shopping.

“Dammit,” I said, collapsing in a chair.

The milk and cookies were gone; leftover rice, all we had left. It would feed two mouths but wouldn’t be near enough for three. More than my hunger, it was mom's look of disappointment when she returned that galled me. I needed to hit the markets early tomorrow, somehow before even going to work.

My stomach grumbled as I sat there, almost breaking my resolve to starve myself. The TV was tuned to the same channel as always, a cartoon station Nenye liked. On it, some gladiator yapped, hoisting the head of a monster to the adulations of a crowd. In my mind's eye, I had also returned victorious from facing Gunner, a dumbstruck mom waiting to receive me. I’d held her necklace aloft in one hand, pride and triumph fisted in the other.

No. I had lost my way today. I couldn't keep going like this. I’d set dinner for Nenye then call the SIRC. Tonight. Mom would understand. Stalling any further could lead me down a path of regret.

“Alright,” I said, wrapping my arms around my sister who looked lost where she stood. “Let's get some food in that little tummy.”

A knock sounded from the gate.

“Huh,” I said.

“Gate,” Nenye replied.

“Yeah, I know.”

That was odd. Mom rarely got visitors, and the only person who bothered checking up on me never did so without trying my number first. It was probably Jimoh, wanting to ask for salt or something.

“Sit here,” I told Nenye. “I'd be back soon.”

I waited for her to comply then went out to the yard. The knocking grew persistent.

“Who's there?” I asked.

The knocking continued.

“I'm not letting you in until you identify yourself.”

Silence.

The muscles in my gut constricted. The Four-oh-Four couldn't have tracked me this fast, could they?

I turned on a dime, right as a massive shape vaulted over the gate and landed in the middle of the yard. I raced for the door.

Something tore past me, shearing the wind as it passed. It slammed into the front door, forcing it inwards. I stopped short of clotheslining myself on the weapon, skidded, and tumbled to a stop. Chain reeled and the weapon retracted, ripping the door off its hinges. The interior was defenseless now. There would be no escape.

Shit. Nenye was in there.

I rolled across the ground, reaching for the potted plant. It accelerated faster than my eyes could follow. One second my assailant was in the middle of the yard, the next they weren't. The pot shattered in a fruitless demise.

What was that howling?

A pair of feet collided with my chest, sending me careening into a wall. Stars burst across my vision and agony became a second skin.

I couldn't breathe.

My fingers made contact with gravel. I poured all I had into them. The stones erupted like the blast from a shotgun. They tore holes in the fence, leaving deep dents in the gate. The weapon from earlier scoured a path toward me. It smacked my torso, and I was in the air again—weightless for the briefest of moments. I crashed into the fence.

Help!

A shoulder slammed into my chest—always the chest—pushing me into the brick. I wheezed, running my fingers across my attacker. They shot up skyward.

Not even a second later, they returned, godawful weapon and chain reeling them to the ground. They pinned me against the wall, high enough my legs dangled.

I wasn't sure, but I must have blacked out from the pain.

“One more wrong move,” a ragged voice said, “and I will paint the walls of your house in your blood.”

The darkness engulfed me. A slap turned on the lights.

“Do you have any idea what you've done?” the voice said.

“D-done?” I choked.

“Attacked multiple civilians. Skull fractures. Broken bones. A bunch of keys lodged in the stomach of a boy!”

I was being held up by something resembling a halberd. My vision blurred.

“Look at me!”

A towering man with a muzzle over his face peered into my eyes.

“Did you think you could escape?” he said. “Everyone has a scent. You pick up on it if you sniff closely enough. Your scent was all over the scene. All over the boys you attacked.” He growled. “And it smelled like shit.”

No . . . Needed more air. Shudders wracked every inch of my being. An alarming red hue tinged the edges of my vision.

Dog guy must have noticed because he eased off, letting my feet touch the ground. He didn't get any closer. Not that it mattered. I was still being held aloft, and it hurt too much to even think of attempting a counter.

“You did it to get to me, right?” Dog guy said. “Congratulations, you have gotten my attention, punk. Not so tough now that you are up against a fellow Super, eh?”

Frustration welled up within me same time as the onset of a violent cough. “Y-You're not making any sense.”

Dog guy snarled, pushing a knee into my gut. “You attacked innocent civilians!”

“Innocent?” I paused to cough. “Get off me,” I said, slapping his foot. “Gunner and his friends mugged my mom!”

“And you know this how?”

“Because they are fucking gangsters! We identified them.” The shock, pain, and fright began to give way to a new emotion: anger.

Dog guy leaned in. My vision cleared, enough that I could match his costume with the internet shots, interviews, and clippings. He was a Super. One of Newtown’s indigenous Heroes: mad dog Rabidor.

“You identified them,” he said, growling the last word. “And suddenly, that makes you judge, jury and executioner.”

“No different from you,” I spat. “You are attacking me in my home.”

Rabidor shook me so hard I threw up in my mouth.

“You're making no sense, little shit,” he said, making the word shit sound like my name. “Do you know how much trouble you are in? Unregistered Super assaulting a bunch of kids. It'd be a miracle if you stay out of jail.”

“My mom—”

“To hell with your mom!”

I swung at his face, getting another choke-slam for my troubles.

“A kid is in ER, getting keys out of his gut, and you have the gall to tell me about your mom? I don't want to hear about her unless she's asking what color of prison wear you'd look best in.”

Movement caught the periphery of my eyes. Nenye stood at the door, barefoot, looking at the scene. She opened her mouth and screamed.

“Come with me,” Rabidor growled.

“I'm not,” I said.

“It wasn’t a request.”

He pushed a button on his halberd and fire like a million tiny needles coursed through my veins. Nenye's screams rose in tandem with my own. My arms slackened, and Rabidor slung me over his shoulder.

“You are under arrest,” he said.

Fuck you, I wanted to reply. But my tongue imitated brick in my mouth. He carted me off before I could form another thought.

I woke after a bout of troubled sleep. Everything hurt, dammit. It hurt so bad I wasn't sure I could truly recover. My head throbbed. My back throbbed. My sides . . . A million places, all at once. I tried to spit but my tongue registered insensate, mimicking pebbles in my mouth.

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

I was on the floor in a tiny, black room, feet bound, arms tied behind my back. The flooring was an expanse of metal, cool to the touch. There were no windows or furniture or even seams for doors. Definitely no convenience. Which was terrible. I really had to go. I shut my eyes, letting the nip in the floor seep into my cheek. Hot tears brimmed in my eyes. This was not the time.

Forget the pain.

Forget the pain, Chachi.

I wiggled to a sitting position.

How long had I been out? I couldn't remember much since Rabidor . . .

Fury surged up my spine. Rabidor. What the bastard had done was akin to breaking and entering, with a generous helping of assault splurged on the side.

Nenye. He'd left her there shrieking. Door wrecked. No one to cater to her needs.

There had to be something I could use. Anything.

I pressed my palm against my leg, ignoring the myriad of cuts swathing across my form. I willed myself to accelerate toward the wall. It failed. Probably for the best. I’d have only hurt myself.

I hobbled to my knees. If I could just . . .

“Struggling won't help your case,” a new voice said.

An entire section of my prison fell away. A woman stood in the night, lit by the beams of floodlights. Her hair fell in tresses, splayed behind a silver, dove-faced domino mask. Silver paddock boots complemented her blue pants and vest, the latter bearing pauldrons embossed with doves.

I recognized her at a glance. The Hero: Dia Mater.

“Rabidor's incensed,” she said with a lilt. “Rightfully so, too. We'd hear your case now, but you’re off to law enforcement if your defense isn't satisfactory.”

“My sister,” I said, struggling through my swollen tongue. “Rabidor attacked me in my home. Broke the door in . . . left her there defenseless. She’s still so little.”

Dia Mater mumbled in a native tongue. “I will make some calls. But you must understand that your case takes precedence. I guarantee her safety, but I don't promise you’ll be reunited tonight.”

I nodded, almost hearing rocks slide around in my head.

“I am going to free your legs,” Dia Mater said. “Don't struggle. Just stand upright.” She paused. “You can try to make a run for it. But unless you’ve been living under a rock, I am sure you know who I am.”

I followed her instruction. A pike rose from the metal floor spearing the bindings between my feet.

“Good,” she said. “Now, come with me.”

I hopped down after the Hero. My prison was a rectangular box of metal, floating a little off the ground. No sooner had I exited than the whole contraption collapsed, folding into a thin, square sheet.

“Welcome to the Council of August Heroes, Newtown,” Dia Mater said. “Or what it will be called, anyway, once we settle the final issues with funding. You have a right to remain silent if you don’t feel like answering our questions. Should you choose silence, however, let me remind you that in CAH territory, we are the law. We will hold you indefinitely if we think it serves our purpose.”

I squinted around the surroundings. We stood outside a sprawling complex still in the process of construction. Empty levers, rigs, and other machinery loomed over the area. Beneath the glare of floodlights, armed guards patrolled and waited behind wooden barricades.

I hobbled after Dia Mater, as she expertly led me around those barricades and stacks of building materials. She noticed me lagging and frowned. “How hurt are you?”

“Bad,” I wheezed. “Rabidor did a number on me.”

“You deserved it,” she snapped. Then in a gentler tone, she added, “We'll get you to a doctor after we've discussed your case.”

We stopped at a trio of nondescript metallic containers, each much bigger than the one I’d been in.

Dia Mater gestured towards the largest. “Go in. I'd wait out here a bit, make that call.”

“What about my hands?”

The Hero didn’t reply.

Stairs descended from the largest cylinder, urging me in. The ceiling was missing, letting light into the room. A desk and five chairs occupied the interior, raised from the same metallic material. And, standing on the opposite side of the desk, two Supers whispered heatedly.

Rabidor held his halberd in one hand, shoulder-length dreadlocks jerking with the movements of his head. Muscles like granite flexed beneath an open, fur collar jacket. He thumped his wicked-looking weapon on the floor and growled behind his muzzle.

The other Super crossed his arms, unfazed by his angry colleague. He was smaller, though next to Rabidor, that didn't mean short. He breathed through a half-face respirator; a futuristic-looking visor obscured the rest of his face. His tactical suit featured more pockets than was necessary, and was a dark blue, except for his knee and elbow guards, which were grey.

I couldn't recognize him from any of the articles and that worried me. Was he cordial like Dia Mater or more like Rabidor?

The unknown Super noticed me. “Let’s continue later, Rabidor,” he said. “We have company.”

He took a seat and gestured to me to do same. I sat at the lone chair across from him, somehow managing it with my arms behind my back. Rabidor remained standing.

“Mr. Onuoha,” the Super said, and I wasn't even surprised he knew my name. “I’m Pro-now, leader of the local Hero team. The Hero outside is Dia Mater, my second-in-command, and beside me is Rabidor. It is an unfortunate series of events that caused us to meet today.”

“Nothing unfortunate about it,” Rabidor said, rolling his shoulders. “I brought him here because you asked me to bring first-time Villains to you. He should be rotting in a police cell.”

“I'm not a Villain,” I said.

“Sure, you aren’t,” Rabidor drawled, not even looking at me.

“I'm not.” Fire rose in my belly. “You better hope nothing happened to my sister, or else—”

“Or what? You'll put keys in my stomach too?”

“Rabidor,” Pro-now warned.

Rabidor slammed his fist on the desk. “I'm tired of this farce. You wanted to meet him. You've met him. Ask him your questions so I can haul him off to jail.”

Pro-now stiffened. He placed his fingers on the desk, steepling them. “Did you harm those kids, Mr. Onuoha?”

“They attacked my mom!” I cried.

“Did you harm them?” he repeated. “That was the question.”

“Yes, but—”

Pro-now sighed. “I won’t sugarcoat this,” he said, respirator flanging his words. “You are in deep trouble. Granted, it would’ve been a different issue were this an Emergent scenario—”

“It isn’t,” Rabidor said.

“It isn’t,” Pro-now agreed. “Evidence proves you were cognizant of your abilities when you attacked civilians, Mr. Onuoha. By law, you should be tried in court.”

A shiver ran up my spine. It was a big deal, wasn’t it? Using powers against the unpowered. I had to think my way out of this.

“What if,” I started, “I proved the boys I attacked were criminals?”

Rabidor’s fist dented his side of the desk. “You attempt murder, and this is all you have to say in your defense? Get up. Now.”

Pro-now glanced at his colleague. He cocked his head at me. “I hope you understand why Rabidor is enraged, Mr. Onuoha. He’d been retiring for the night when we were notified about this . . . incident. I will give you a chance to speak. But it will be just the one. Utter a single lie, and you’ll be going with him.” His visor gleamed. “Trust me, I will know if you are lying.”

I had no intention to hide the truth, but something here wasn’t adding up. There was no reason for Rabidor to be notified about some street scuffle unless something tied him personally to the case.

Gunner? No. It had to be the keys. The guy with the tattoos up his arm.

I took a deep breath, wincing as fire lanced up my ribs. “I fought those boys,” I said, keeping an eye on Rabidor, “because I have strong reason to believe they attacked my mom.”

“Strong reason,” Rabidor mocked.

“It was dark out, I’ll admit. I only know I saw four boys dragging her from her car. A friend who rushed to the scene with me identified one of the muggers: Gunner. He’s a popular gangster affiliated with the Four-oh-Four. Naturally, his close friends are also members.”

Rabidor’s demeanor shifted at the mention of the Four-oh-Four. “Lies,” he said.

“Why would I lie?” I answered. “Is it a bitter pill to swallow? Who do you have among them? A son? A brother? A cousin? You believe I attacked them for no reason.” I wetted my lips. “I am telling you the reason now. Those four boys are rolling with the wrong crowd. They keep this up, and they'll piss someone off enough that it won't be ER next time.” I glared at him. “You’d attend their funeral.”

Rabidor lunged over the table for me. A wall of metal rose from the desk, obstructing him.

“Enough,” Dia Mater said, entering the room.

Pro-now massaged his temples. He looked up at me, anger painting his words. “Are you stupid? Did you lose your mind? Your situation is terrible enough. Provoking one of us won’t help you.”

“Sorry,” I said. But it had felt good. I could never forgive Rabidor for what he had done.

“He's lying,” Rabidor stated. “All he's said.”

“He's not,” Pro-now replied.

“You can't know for sure!”

“I can,” Pro-now said. “He has told the truth so far. The truth as he knows it, at least. He truly believed those boys attacked his mother. But that isn’t enough to excuse the crime. Mater, your thoughts?”

The wall of metal slid back into the desk. Dia Mater took a chair on the other side of Pro-now.

“He's a first-time offender,” she said. “But I worry he is too reckless. He seems to have a penchant for violence. And for trouble.”

“I don’t!” I protested.

“So you say,” she said. “Yet you deliberately riled Rabidor moments ago. You knew you had powers and kept them to yourself.”

“I was going to call the SIRC. I just found out yesterday!”

Dia Mater glanced at Pro-now.

The latter shrugged. “It's past midnight. So, he means the day before yesterday. But, yes. Sounds true.”

Dia Mater folded her arms. “That just cements my point. He Emerges and goes looking for a fight within twenty-four hours. It says a lot about his disposition.”

I had no retort to that.

“A kid almost died today,” Dia Mater continued. “Not because of a mistake, but because you weaponized your abilities. Do you even feel any remorse?”

I did.

“Answer me.”

“I do,” I said, choking back a sob. “I-I didn’t know things would get this bad. I was angry and just wanted to get revenge. My mom could have died if we hadn’t stepped in.”

Rabidor gripped his halberd.

“What can you do?” Pro-now asked.

I struggled with his meaning. “W-what?”

“What does it entail?” he clarified. “Your ability.”

“Err, I can make stuff go fast if I touch them—”

“Are there any limits to size or mass?” Dia Mater asked. “Can you move buildings?”

“I . . . I don't know,” I said.

“What about direction?” Pro-now added. “Can you touch something and send it speeding upwards?”

“He did that to me,” Rabidor growled.

“Hmm,” Pro-now mused. “Tactile imparter of momentum. Easily a manipulator of kinetic energy.”

“What would you rate him?” Dia Mater asked.

“Bb2,” Pro-now said. “Emphasis on the two. Maybe Bg2.”

“A heavy hitter then.”

“Potentially.” Pro-now sighed, and I got the feeling he did that a lot. “We need more of those.”

“We don't,” Rabidor said. “I won't let you do gloss over this. Not with him. We aren't allowing this little shit into the team. You let this one slide, you start letting everything slide.”

“Agreed,” Pro-now said, leaning back in his chair. “But I ask that you reconsider just this once. What he did is unforgivable. And he will be driven to make amends. However, I did some background checks of my own, and I believe this Gunner person is bad news. We have enough enemies as it is. No point making more where we could earn friends.”

Rabidor snarled. “I am not endorsing this.”

Dia Mater ran her fingers across the desk. “Rabidor, I understand your pain. Fairness demands he be tried in court. But the worst has been averted. I propose we give him a second chance. You got yours. Pro-now got his too. These are the lessons we need to teach the youth.”

Rabidor leveled his staff at her. “You two had this discussion without me, didn't you? When you are the one slighted, and we turn around to reward your attacker, tell me then how it is a lesson to the youth. I'm done with this bullshit.”

He leaped over the desk and stalked out of the container. Dia Mater rose to follow, but Pro-now stopped her.

The bindings bit into my arms. I wrung them, trying to make them hurt less. I just wanted to go home.

“Do you know who we are?”

It took a while before it registered that Pro-now was speaking to me. “The CAH,” I said. “You’re the only Hero organization in the country.” I shook my head to clear it. “You should be based in Lagos.”

“We never left it,” Pro-now said. “What do you think about the current regulations on Supers?”

“They are necessary, aren’t they?”

“Necessary,” Pro-now said, scoffing. He placed his palms on the table. “You see, the local Superhero scene is undergoing a metamorphosis. For too long, the Government had enjoyed a monopoly on Supers and what to do with them. The SIRC and its cousin, the SRA, are both government attempts at strangling our population.”

“Pro-now,” Dia Mater said. She left the warning hanging.

Pro-now waved her aside. “The CAH changed all that. A coalition of Heroes by Heroes, consisting of the best of the best. We have faced challenges at every turn and haven’t seen much growth in nine years beyond the borders of Lagos. But the tides are changing.”

I forced spittle down my bulbous throat. “Dia Mater told me. You are establishing the CAH in Newtown?”

“Not just Newtown,” Pro-now said. “Rivers. Oyo. Anambra. But Newtown is a peculiar case. Unlike the other states, it’s an independent territory, making it atypical. There is less Federal oversight so we have more legroom to experiment. Our successes here could influence the spread of the CAH going forward.”

I leaned against my chair, shutting my eyes. There was a question in there, one they were expecting me to ask. “Where do I fit in all this?”

“You don't,” Dia Mater said. “I still opine you are reckless. Left to me, you will be convicted and given a delayed sentence until you’ve proven otherwise.”

“You will owe us a debt,” Pro-now said. “We will overlook this felony and refrain from pressing charges. In exchange: How do you feel about joining our junior Hero team?”

I cracked an eye. “You want me to be a Council Hero, rather than a Government Super?”

“In summary,” Pro-now answered.

“And you are leaving me no choice?”

“You have a choice,” Dia Mater said. “But we will withdraw our good graces if you choose wrong.”

I weighed my options.

I would be lying if I said I wasn't intrigued by the Hero Council. Bastion threads discussing their accomplishments typically ran on for weeks. It seemed a more hazardous lifestyle than a simple government Super, but I didn't deserve to walk away from this incident scot-free.

I had started the day almost damning my future and was ending it with a chance at redemption.

There was only one obvious answer.

“Sure.”