There was carnage.

And then there was carnage.

I wasn’t sure which I ought to be looking at.

We pulled into Sagidi, taking the circuitous route through Wayo Market to avoid the traffic along the Beach.

The smoke commanded immediate attention. It hung over our heads in a black mass, stretching invisible tendrils into our eyes. Beneath the smoke, a crowd gathered around the area in a ring. Many of the bystanders scampered about in a furor. Others shuffled their feet and wailed. Yet more of the spectators stood in place, obstructing all passage.

Beyond the crowd, a scene of disaster unfolded. Tall buildings lay crumbled, wafting smoke from cinder roofs. A black weight settled in my chest. Not even a minute in and already, I could tell. This was going to be messy.

“Masks on!” Dia Mater called, leaping from the car.

I donned the half-face respirator I'd been assigned and tossed Kabash’s robot mask into the car. The nitrile gloves went on next, followed by a portable gas detector which I clipped to my belt. A few Combat suits took notice of our arrival. They approached us, shoving their way through the crowd. Some of the more irritable bystanders took umbrage at the rough handling, but they made themselves scarce once they saw the armor and weapons.

“I need these people cleared,” Dia Mater yelled as the Combat suits reached us.

One of them shook his head. “No can do, ma. We've tried to restore order, but we are lacking real numbers. The officers on ground are barely enough as is. We can try to use force but that could worsen an already volatile situation.”

“Dammit,” Dia Mater cursed behind her respirator. “We need to disperse the onlookers. They think they are helping, but they are only making things worse.”

A short distance from us, a group of policemen fought through the crowd, armed with crowd control barriers. They succeeded in clearing a corridor for emergency services to use, though they remained in danger of being crushed themselves. The blast zone sprawled behind them, nothing but ruin and rubble.

First responders roved about the wreckage, searching for survivors. Many civilians joined the search and seemed to be making progress by virtue of their numbers alone. But they were untrained and were just as likely to hurt themselves.

For that matter, I was also untrained.

“What can we do?” I asked.

“I will erect a barricade,” Dia Mater said. She glanced at the senior Combat suit. “Get me a loudspeaker.”

The man hastened away.

Dia Mater spread her arms. Thin discs of metal emerged from beneath our van, slicing the breeze. They circled the Hero, reforming in seconds into circular metal sheets the width of desks. One sheet formed stairs that Dia Mater ascended, and she stood there, hovering a few feet off the ground. The Combat suit from earlier returned, loudspeaker in tow.

“Don't take any action till I get back,” Dia Mater said. The metal sheets thrummed, causing the hairs to rise on my skin. She levitated into the air and made for to the front of the crowd, metal constructs in tow.

A teenage girl wandered beside me. “Hey guys, tragic news this time,” she said, holding her camera phone aloft. “So, I am right here at the blast zone in Sagidi. Really terrible sight.” She dabbed her eyes in an exaggerated motion and looked up at us. A grin stretched across face. “Oh, wow! Superheroes!” She spun the camera around. “Superheroes right here in Newtown. The rumors were true!”

Activity made a fist. The cords on his shoulders bulged. “Are you recording this?”

The girl paid him no mind, circling around us.

Activity advanced on her. I grabbed his shoulder.

“Hands off!” he said.

“It's not worth it,” I replied. “Look around.”

He did.

About a tenth of the crowd had mobile phones out. Some of the more daring ones dribbled past the police to get shots of the scene. A few bystanders loitered around in shock, hands on their heads. They seemed to serve no purpose other than to lament and offer comments to the recorders.

I growled low in my throat. Proper aid couldn't be marshaled in this mess, all because the people wanted a jamboree.

Activity set his face like flint.

Chants of ‘superhero’ rose among the crowd. Many of them looked at us or pointed at Dia Mater in the sky. Her metal sheets took the form of pikes and slammed into the ground.

“Civilians,” she said through the loudspeaker. “You are required to evacuate.”

“Hey, hey, you can't do that,” a man yelled, eyeing the sheets.

“The mess you’ve created isn't helping matters,” Dia Mater said. “We need to get the wounded to safety. The longer you obstruct emergency workers, the higher the chances an injured victim dies. This isn't a scene for your amusement.”

The crowd pressed forward. The metal pikes duplicated in response, forming a barricade.

“I repeat,” Dia Mater said. “Stay back. Help us save lives.”

There were changes. A few people backed away at Dia Mater's words, but more spectators were only just arriving. Homeowners joined the throng. Business owners. People with loved ones stuck under the debris. They stayed in place because they believed they had the right to. Then there were the genuine good guys, who only wanted to help.

A new group had also formed on the outer borders of the ring: able-bodied volunteers who chased down the looters making off with stolen property. Of the types of people gathered, the looters were easily the most loathsome. They streaked through the crowd, running off with furniture, groceries, and anything valuable they could find.

Wait. Was that couple stealing a fridge?

“Men, fuck this,” Bazaar said. Like me, she didn’t have a costume yet. Her identity lay hidden behind the respirator.

“They don't understand,” I said.

“They don't care,” Bazaar replied.

“Harvest, can you do something?” I asked.

“I'd probably hurt more people than I’d disperse if I summoned trees amidst the crowd.” She didn't meet my eyes, but her voice held no malice.

“Dia Mater!” Bazaar called, leaping and waving at the Hero.

“What’s the problem?” Dia Mater said, floating our way. Her tresses were disheveled and sweat beaded her scalp.

“We are wasting time,” Bazaar said. “The rest of you need to help with the rescue efforts. Let me handle the crowd.”

“You are not to be freed from your collar unless under life-or-death circumstances,” Dia Mater said. “This holds true until your probation is over.”

Bazaar pointed at a scene. Paramedics rushed a boy with a missing leg into an ambulance. “Seems pretty much life-or-death to me.”

Dia Mater frowned. She hopped off the metal platform and tapped the buttons on Bazaar's collar. It opened with a whir. “No hallucinations,” she warned, handing the collar to a Combat suit. “Or anything that will cause a panic. We intend to facilitate rescue not hamper it.”

Bazaar nodded. “Sure. Just get going.”

Metal discs pulled up to us, dropping stairs from their rims. The hairs rose on my skin again as I climbed the platform, tingling down to my toes. Some kind of force kept the sheets sturdy even in mid-air, and it pressed down on me—keeping my feet solidly on the surface. Dia Mater levitated us toward the blast zone. We were barely past the crowd when the yelps started. The onlookers winced and fled the area as if bitten by invisible bugs.

Bazaar was kind of overpowered.

Dia Mater dropped us in the middle of the wreckage. Whatever I had glimpsed through the crowd hadn't captured the real state of things. Entire streets lay flattened—the houses reduced to heaps of stone. Roofing sheets protruded from the ground, edges pointed and sharper than razors. An upheaval had claimed the ground. A few depressions led down to septic tanks, torn asunder in the blast. Red splattered the ground, daring me to look.

“Don't let your guard down,” Dia Mater said. “Enemies look to hurt Heroes even in times like these. Watch your footing and remember all you’ve been taught.” She gestured at a uniformed first responder. “Those are men from the National Emergency Management Agency. Listen to them. They know better than you do. The worst has passed, but cave-ins and household gas cylinders are still a threat. Power lines have also been de-energized but avoid them all the same.”

“I don’t know how to use this,” Harvest said, gesturing at the portable gas detector on her sash.

“You don't need to,” Dia Mater replied. “Just keep an ear out for its beeping. It will make noises if it detects dangerous levels of poisonous gases in the air.” She tapped her own detector. “Got all of that?”

We chorused a reply.

“Activity, head on up,” Dia Mater said. “Work together with Harvest. Volley, join the efforts over on your left. Do what you can to help. I’ll direct Neviecha to you once he arrives.”

We took off.

I reached a ruined building. A woman in a blouse and wrapper wept in the mud in front of it. Two charred corpses lay on the ground beside her. Men from NEMA pulled a third from the rubble. I suppressed the fluids gurgling up my throat and said with a croak, “What can I do to help?”

A fireman looked up. “You a Super?”

“Yeah,” I said.

He spat in my face.

What the fuck?

“You guys do this?” he groused, adjusting his mask. “Another of your monthly superhero fights?”

I clenched my fists.

“Get lost,” he said. “We don't need your help.”

“Cut that out,” his colleague cried, racing to the scene. He stopped in front of me, grime coating his brows. “If you want to help, I have some bricks that need moving. Think you can handle that?”

I took a deep breath, drawing out the exhale. Kabash had warned about this. The part about reigning in emotions. It was all part of the job.

“Yeah,” I said. “Where is it?”

The second fireman led me a to partially displaced building. A few people had gathered around a fallen pillar, attempting to lift it.

“We got someone stuck under this pillar,” the fireman said.

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Shit.

“Clear a path in that direction,” I commanded. I hadn't had much time to experiment with my powers, and the neglect was coming back to bite me in the ass. I could probably alter the speed at which I sent objects flying. But I couldn’t tell if that skill depended on any other parameter.

The emergency workers turned expectant gazes on me, doubling my worries. I couldn't afford to let them down.

Please work.

I flicked my fingers at the pillar. It swung off with a loud groan, rolling down the rubble.

The men cheered.

I channeled their excitement, prodding the smaller chunks of stone lodged beneath the pillar. A pained cry reached my ears.

“Hut!” the emergency workers chanted, extricating a boy from the earth. Paramedics hoisted a stretcher onto the scene.

“Next!” the fireman cried.

I followed them to another building.

It was tough work, beating out Kabash's most grueling sessions. There was so much dust in the air, it was a miracle the unprotected helpers didn't keel over. Neviecha arrived as we pulled another survivor from the wreckage. He crashed with such force, he almost sunk to the ground.

“Volley,” he called through his suit's speakers, “where can I help?”

I put more momentum into a piece of debris than I intended. It rocketed off, though not much faster than a human might run.

“Be careful!” an emergency worker said.

“Sorry,” I grunted. I wiped the sweat from my forehead, resisting the urge to tear off the respirator. “Neviecha, that Habakkuk of yours can do some heavy-lifting, yeah?”

Neviecha snorted. “That’s the whole point.”

“Good. Let's do this.”

The Habakkuk marched forward, wings folding into its pack.

Together, we made progress. Our combined efforts liberated two more people from the wreck. The second was found unconscious from a wound to the head. I looked at the pale, immobile girl and tried not to think of a six-year-old Nenye lying in a hospital bed.

My muscles screamed. Behind the smog, the noon sun climbed. Its fiery rays lashed my scalp, pounding a headache into my skull. Sweat ran free in rivulets down my back.

I yelled orders at the first responders. I got orders yelled at me. Sometimes, we worked close enough that our faces touched. Other times, I tackled heaps of debris alone. It was more work than I had done in a while. And it was good. Each person we pulled free . . . well, if I’d harbored any doubts of the nobility of superheroism, I didn't anymore.

“Over here,” Neviecha said.

I climbed over to him and helped move an entire length of wall. The fetid stench was the first thing that reached me.

“Oh,” Neviecha said. “Oh.”

A family of four had been buried in the collapse, heads and stomachs distended.

Neviecha turned away. Gagging noises emanated from his suit.

I closed my eyes.

“Dead bodies,” I called. “Dead bodies here.”

“Let's bring them down,” a NEMA agent said.

I grabbed a corpse’s legs, and together, we moved the dead father to the ground. We returned for the rest.

There were more corpses after that.

Two more Heroes had arrived at the scene sometime during the day. I spotted Rabidor, sans his halberd, leading a group of responders to victims still trapped beneath the rubble. He glared at me as he passed, dreadlocks whipping behind him. But he said nothing and dug through brick and mortar much like a dog would.

The Hero I had seen with Dia Mater showed up too. She helped move the wounded to stretchers lain out for them. Harvest's trees grew in the distance, forcing chunks of stone apart. Some had trunks bent sideways, serving as makeshift bridges. Activity ran across one those bridges, hoisting giant boulders as if they weighed no more than a kilo.

“Help him,” a woman said, freed from having her head stuck in a railing. “Please. My husband . . .” A length of iron protruded from her foot.

“We will find him,” I said, handing her off to a paramedic.

Neviecha still hadn't recovered.

“Oh god,” he said. “I have gunk in my filters.”

“Take a rest,” I replied. “Clean it out.”

“How are you okay with this?”

“I am not.”

A bunch of emergency workers signaled to me. I chased after them and leaped across a collapsed roof. My foot went slack right as I landed. The world went topsy-turvy, and I slammed into a metal disc.

“Careful, Volley,” Dia Mater said, hovering above my head. She glanced at the bodies laid out on the ground. “Are you sure you don't need a break?”

“Nah. I'm good.”

Multiple strips of metal floated around her in a distracting variety of shapes. Her powers involved metal control and duplication, yeah? Or was it creation? She had built cylinders to house the wounded and facilitate the ongoing triage. She had also erected a makeshift morgue. Large metallic barricades kept out the onlookers who had managed to escape Bazaar, and steel beams littered the blast zone, keeping the more unstable structures from keeling over.

Speaking of Bazaar, where was she anyway? The last I’d seen her, she roamed the outer edge of the blast zone, keeping the surroundings clear. Her field of perpetual pain was so potent, even the Combat suits stayed away.

“I'm sorry you had to witness this, Volley,” Dia Mater said, interrupting my thoughts. “Your team would not have been summoned had we more Supers.” She glanced at Neviecha who was still retching in his suit. “Neviecha, find some cover and get yourself sorted. I don't want you choking in there.”

Neviecha coughed in answer. The Habakkuk lumbered off.

I scanned the area. Where next could I be of help?

Dia Mater stepped onto my platform. “Let me see your hands,” she said, reaching for them.

I opened my palms. Tears riddled the nitrile gloves, and my fingers where exposed were dyed with blood.

Dia Mater cradled my hands, sucking her lips. “You’ve had your shots, yes?”

I nodded.

“Does it hurt?”

“Nope. Can't feel a thing.”

Her brown eyes traced mine. “Okay. The medic zone is a few ways behind me. Odim's there. Get her to look at your palms. If she okays it, you’d get new gloves.”

“Odim?”

“The Super I was with this morning.”

“Oh. Right. Got it.”

Dia Mater returned to her sheet. “I'll fly you there. Sit.”

The metal disc lurched beneath me.

“You asked me if stuff like the Cnidarian attack happened often, yes?” she said.

I didn't reply.

“Well, this is more common. And the people depend on us to show up in times like these. Do not lose faith, Volley.”

“I won't.”

The disc took off, leaving Dia Mater behind.

Odim wasn't doing any lifting. But she worked in the thick of action, directing the first-aid efforts. She cocked her head as I slid off the platform. “Volley, I take it?”

“Yeah,” I replied, opening my palms. “I was hoping you could look at these?”

Odim's mechanical eyes narrowed. She pulled a pair of scissors from her pouch and ripped through the gloves. “Hmm. Minor cuts. No flint embedded in the wounds. ‘Will wash with soap then get you new gloves. Tetanus?”

“Safe,” I said.

She nodded and led me to tap. She’d just finished wiping my wounds when shouts sounded from the area Harvest and Activity worked.

Odim and I jogged toward the scene. A shop had once stood there, ruined now beyond recognition. Activity stood atop a floored signpost, caked head to toe in dust. He tugged on an old, fragile-looking man who in turn grasped at ruined electrical hardware.

“Stop struggling,” Activity said, the veins bulging on his head “I’m trying to help.”

“Let me go!” The old man kicked. “Go help your fat mother!”

“What's going on?” Odim asked.

Harvest turned to us. An angry red bruise marred her eye. “I-I was trying to free that man from the debris. H-he resisted and slapped me. ‘Said he isn't moving until the Governor comes and apologizes for the damage.”

Uh-oh.

“He slapped you?” Odim said, bristling.

“Get your ass up,” Activity roared. It was a miracle he hadn't resorted to violence yet.

“I'm not moving!” the old man said. “Do you know what this means? Do you know what it feels like? All my life savings: gone! I leave here and that will be the end of the matter. Goods ruined, crisis forgotten, and scallywags with kwashiorkor feasting on my losses!” He paused to breathe and the pupils danced in his head. “The government did this. I saw it. Massive crater down that direction! Bombing! They must come to reimburse me.”

“They will,” a civilian responder said. He gestured to his partner and they moved to help Activity. “You're the owner of that shop, aren't you? No Light?”

“No Light?” I repeated.

“Yeah,” the civilian said. “Papa No Light. It's what he's called around here. ‘Been running this small hardware shop for decades. No Light Ventures.” He turned to the man. “Hey, papa. Are a few lamps and adapters really worth your life? You're only making things worse.”

“Shut up,” No Light said.

The civilian sighed. “Come with us. The first-aid people will get you looked at.”

“They can look at your anus!”

“Did you slap this girl?” Odim interjected, advancing.

“I will slap you too if you get close,” No Light said.

“What?!”

“Oh, that's it,” Activity said. “I'm done playing. If I break a few bones, old man, that's on you.”

“Get away from me, you fool!”

I noticed it before anyone else did. Thick lengths of wire had been unearthed in the struggle. They crisscrossed the ground, connected to hardware buried beneath the bricks. An indicator blinked.

“Hey, guys . . .” I said.

Activity hauled No Light into the air.

“Guys!”

No Light brought his teeth down on Activity's arm. The latter dropped him, more to save the old man than himself. They fell right on the live wires.

A scream rent the air. No Light jerked as several volts of electricity coursed through him. Activity pushed the civilians out of harm's way. Harvest summoned a branch to extricate the old man. Then a giant hand appeared and smacked Activity aside.

“Emergent!” Odim warned.

Emergent. That was so not good.

No Light rose, both legs the size of an elephant's, one arm even larger. “What's this?” he cried. “What have you done to me?” He glared at us, snot dripping from his nose. “You tried to kill me?”

Odim raised her fists. Rainbow-colored beams shot out of them and slammed into No Light. Or rather, where he had been. Quicker than I could follow, he leaped aside, scattering rock and brick.

“Subdue him,” Odim called.

Harvest and I moved.

Trees sprung from the ground like great wooden barriers, hemming our target in. No Light tore through them, making a beeline for Odim. She fired those beams again, and he dodged, reaching for her head. Activity barreled into him.

“You’re dead, I swear it,” Activity said, respirator nowhere to be found. Concentric golden bands traveled down his form.

No Light crashed to the ground. He righted himself and pounced back into the fray. Activity met him halfway. They exchanged blows, and No Light catapulted backward, tearing a track through the ground.

The Emergent tried to stand and took my rock bullet in the knee. A thick bough glanced off his chin. He dodged Odim's beams and screamed, heaving with exertion.

“What's going on?” Rabidor growled, racing to the scene.

No Light had gotten bigger. Both arms and legs were now equal in size, and his torso grew to accommodate them. His head, however, stayed unchanged. He yowled at us, eyes bulging out of his skull. “Heroes! The Governor sent you to get me, didn’t he?”

“Emergent,” Odim told Rabidor. “Take it easy with him. He's just confused.”

“I'll evacuate the emergency workers,” Dia Mater said from above.

No Light sprang at her. She shrieked and swerved out of the way. A metal cone intercepted the man, throwing him aside. Activity tackled No Light as he landed, and they went careening into rubble. Shockwaves rocked the terrain as both Supers pummeled each other. This time, Activity went sailing.

“I'm spent,” Activity yelled, rising from a crater. The golden bands flashed once and died.

“Help him,” Harvest cried.

I raced for the largest piece of debris I could find.

No Light closed the distance to Activity in a single bound. I fired an entire window frame, bowling the crazed Super aside. He seized the missile and lobbed it back at me. Metal sheets rose to deflect it.

“Shit!” Activity cursed, fleeing the skirmish. His feet slipped, slower than they had been mere moments ago. His arms scampered for purchase, devoid of all his fearsome strength.

Which was odd. Activity built charges by engaging in mechanical work. He should have been swimming in power.

“Get back here,” No Light shouted after him, giving chase.

I opened fire, covering Activity's retreat. Odim joined me. The Emergent proved more than a match for us. He dodged my shot and smacked Odim's beams aside using a length of wall. My next shot went wide, but the third floored him, stamping into his gut. He returned to his feet in seconds.

How tough was this guy?

Woodland exploded beneath No Light, throwing him into the air. He latched onto an entire tree and yanked it clean off its roots. He pivoted and chucked the weapon at Harvest. Rabidor dived into its path. The feral Hero shattered the tree trunk, howling at the challenge. He engaged No Light, buying us a reprieve.

All around the battlefield, people screamed. Dia Mater flitted above the chaos, erecting barriers to guide fleeing civilians. She shielded the most vulnerable with metal walls and moved the entire medic cylinder out of range. Neviecha took to the air, thrusters flaring.

“Get off me, mutt,” No Light grunted, swinging his arm.

Rabidor caught the deadly punch and tossed the Emergent into a building. He followed up on the attack but stopped short as a flash of energy speared his chest. He collapsed a second later, writhing on the ground.

No Light appeared. His limbs had doubled again in size, and he stood now like a monster truck. Electricity arced between his fingers. “You Heroes are like flies,” he jeered. “You’re suffering mad cow disease, the lot of you! All I wanted was to meet the Governor. Is that too much to ask for?”

A thunderclap answered him. Then another. And more after that. No Light screamed, ducking for cover.

Neviecha zoomed past. Vortical air boomed out of his cannons, combusting within moments of striking his target. The vortexes detonated around No Light and engulfed the Villain in a sea of heat.

No Light rolled out of range. Twin bolts of blue rose from his fingers, sundering the air.

The Habakkuk’s thrusters flared. Neviecha evaded the strike, dodging by a hair’s breadth. He overshot his maneuver, however, and crashed into a house. The structure collapsed around him, raising a plume of dust.

No Light turned his focus to us. A rictus disturbed his face, worsening the glazed look in his eyes. His skin peeled away in places, but he ignored it and raised his fingers. Electricity lashed out like whips, forking across the ground. We scattered, and he chose that moment to pounce. He landed right in our midst.

Odim attacked.

No Light grabbed Harvest by the hair, hoisting her like a shield. The rainbow beams struck her belly, and she crumpled—eyes wide, mouth open in a soundless scream.

“Harvest!” I said.

“She's alright,” Odim wheezed. She raised her fists to fire again and ate a boulder to the chest.

“You're going to pay for this,” I spat.

No Light cocked his head. “What? You’re the one who’s paying, you fool.”

Activity punched the Villain.

No Light ricocheted off two mounds of debris, spraying spittle. Activity rushed after him and battered him into the dirt. The ground trembled with the fury of the onslaught, but his blows soon lost their force. Activity stared at his fists in dismay, perched atop the cackling Villain.

“Done again?” No Light asked. He sparked, and Activity fell, jerking on the ground.

“Just you left now, jeans boy,” No Light said, dusting himself off.

My heart raced in my chest. “Just me,” I said.

No Light lunged. The anchor of fumes awoke, and I accelerated the pebble hidden in my hand. The bullet drilled through his stomach, spurting bloody matter behind him. No Light landed prematurely, clipping me in the shoulder. I crashed into an ambulance. My abused ribs flared in pain.

“That hurt more than anything else so far,” No Light said, cradling his wound. “But it doesn't hurt as much as my loss! The Governor will establish a new business for me. I won't let you stop that!”

“Are you even listening to yourself?” I gasped. “Look around you, asshole. This isn’t about you alone.”

“Lalalala,” No Light said, clutching his ears.

A chill seized my limbs. I was talking to a sick man.

Metal cones slammed into the ground. They exploded between me and No Light, obscuring my vision. One cone turned rectangular and expanded, forming a perimeter around me.

“Stand down, Volley,” Dia Mater said in a soft voice. “I’ll handle this.”

I grimaced, nodding through the pain. About damn time.