The driver dropped me off at the basement car park. Catherine offered a small wave as the door slid closed, speaking into her phone.

I hit the wall in the sequence—thrice, once, twice—and hopped on my feet as the scanners kicked in. The wall was still parting when I raced across the entrance hall, toward the business area to the right of the base. I flew up the stairs beside the conference room and arrived at the living room, heart pounding in my chest.

Ava lounged on the couch, studying her raised hand. A ring glinted on one of her fingers. Loud noises emanated from the television where an animated movie played.

I reached for the remote abandoned on the armrest, and she scrambled to a sitting position, tucking her hand out of sight.

“H-hey, Fingers,” she said. “When did you get here?”

There was nothing on the independent news stations or the local ones. The Federal-owned station, perhaps?

“Hey,” Ava said. “I was watching that movie!”

The National Broadcasting Station was in the middle of a news report. A spokesperson from the Petroleum Ministry sat at a conference table, fielding questions from reporters.

“. . . That is correct,” the spokesperson said, “We have concluded beyond reasonable doubt that the Sagidi explosion resulted from damage to a nearby gas pipeline. While the cause of damage is unclear at this time, we have been notified that Supers were spotted fighting around the area shortly before—”

Pain erupted in my jaw. I looked up from the floor, dazed. “What the hell?”

Ava shook her fist at me. “That's my line, yo. You think you can just waltz in from out of nowhere and change the channel?”

“Have you lost your mind?” I yelled. “Don’t you see what's happening?”

“What's happening is that I am stuck indoors while you idiots come and go as you please. Lost my mind? Ha! I am just getting started!”

Damn this chick.

I took a deep breath, running a hand over my hair. The fumes within me subsided. “There's something big happening over at Sagidi.”

Ava folded her arms and turned up her nose. “Don't care.”

I must have roared or something because she grinned.

“Oh, come on,” she said. “I'm just pulling your legs. I'm vexed but not that vexed.”

She returned the remote to me, and I flumped on the armrest, rubbing my jaw.

“Don't look so grim,” she said.

“Shut up. Just let me listen.”

The news piece cut to a video update from Sagidi. A crowd had gathered around the blast zone, waving placards and yelling at the top of their voices. A few of the placards spoke from places of frustration. Sentences like: ‘Leave us normal people alone!’ or ‘Give us back our homes!’. The majority however promised violence. I caught two instances of ‘To hell with all Supers!’ and one particularly graphic ‘You kill us, we kill you’.

I ignored all those, searching instead for the poignant messages subdued by the clamor. ‘I didn't ask to be a part of this’, one read. And in another: ‘Can your superpower bring back my brother?’

“This is wrong,” I said, as the field reporter commented. “This is very wrong. The country failed those people. They have no right putting it on us.”

“This is war,” Ava said, stifling a yawn. “Don't tell me you haven't seen worse in foreign media. The entire world went to shit right after G-day. As far as State versus Super relationships go, this is pretty mild.”

“It's not. The protest you’re looking at could cause bigger problems for Supers down the line. The explosion happened because of government oversight. But rather than make amends for it, the Ministry pins the blame on us.”

“They acknowledged their inability to explain the rupture and mentioned the possibility of superhuman involvement. They didn't exactly say CAH.”

“They are taking liberties with the truth!” I paused before I went on, calming my breath. “The bulk of the masses will listen to the Ministry’s message and hear only that Supers were involved. And the most visible Supers in Newtown are the Hero Council’s. They are making us enemies of the people. All on the back of a farce.”

Ava tugged at her collar. “Yeah. It is a farce. But you know this only because you are privy to the truth. In a few days, third-party investigations would back our claims of poor maintenance, and the Ministry would retract their comments, or not. By then, however, the damage would’ve been done.”

She chuckled beneath her breath. “Society as a whole rewards bullish attitudes. The people won't remember the truth. They’ll remember the loudest noise. You can bet that even some of the brightest minds will walk away from this believing that the CAH leveled those buildings and killed scores of people. The Government earns more sympathizers for its causes, and the Council nets more detractors. Basic tactics to keep sovereignty unthreatened.”

I soured at her. “You sound impressed.”

“I'm not,” she said. “Just being honest. Pass me the remote?” She hit the pause button. “See here. A lot of the protesters don’t look like people who would make time to create those placards. Many of them are more interested in starting a scene than actually being heard. See that group in the corner with their placards held upside down? They probably can't differentiate between the spellings of ‘super’ and ‘farce’.” She rewound the recording. “These are protesters-for-hire, employed by some government stooge to paint the narrative the Ministry wants. There’s a reason this is airing on the National Broadcasting station first.”

The report panned to a shot of the CAH crew surrounded by the crowd. Dia Mater had erected a ring of barricades to protect our people. Some emergency workers milled nearby, torn between continuing their jobs and watching the riot. But most damning of all was the fact that a single police uniform didn’t wander in sight.

Staged indeed.

“You're right,” I said, drawing then expelling a breath. “It is too soon. Too soon since the report was released for a mob this large to gather.”

“Bingo,” Ava said, twirling her arms.

“But it's still pretty bad,” I said. “There are real demonstrators mixed in with the paid ones. And in time, the crowd will fill out with more. What then do we do?”

“I'm sure the brilliant minds like Rabidor and Dia Mater can figure it out on their own,” Ava replied, lolling on the couch. “Not my problem.”

“You think this doesn't affect you?”

“No, Fingers. I think it does, but I couldn't care less. The adults are better equipped to deal with this and are more worried about it than I would ever be. Leave it to them, I say.”

The news report switched to happenings in other parts of the country. The newscasters made small jokes, quick to migrate to other topics. But what about those who couldn’t migrate from they’d seen? Those who had witnessed all they cherished vanish in the blink of an eye. Many of them would move on, forever hating Supers.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

“Hey,” Ava said. “If you're done, can I get back to my movie?”

I hit the gym. The anchor manifested itself, clawing up from the depths of my chest. I'd almost forgotten what it felt like, to be perpetually weighed down, arms twitching out of control. I needed an outlet, anything to ease the pressure strangling my throat.

The treadmills whirred but soon proved insufficient to calm me. I switched to the dip station and then to the dumbbells. A nice burning started up my arms and sweat poured down my face.

Why was I even bothered? A week ago, I didn't think much about superheroism outside the threads on social media. Supers were hired by the government as a kind of paramilitary force and that was good enough for me. The CAH was better than I'd expected, but the world was unfair. Everyone did what they could to one-up the competition. The rioting wasn’t the first setback the Council had dealt with. And it wouldn't be the last.

So, why did I feel so angry?

“That's not proper form, kid. You are swinging your arms too wide.”

Kabash entered the gym area. His left arm featured a bandage, and new dents littered his costume. However, the swagger hadn't dropped from his gait.

“Done with your mission?” I asked, lowering the dumbbells.

He grunted. “You know, if you are going to do those poorly, best not to do them at all.”

“I'm stressed. Give me a break.”

He said nothing and moved to my side, helping adjust my form.

I did a few sets under his guidance, then collapsed in a huff.

Kabash nodded approvingly. “I heard about the Sagidi incident. The Combat suits have been gushing on the group chat. The Pacesetters helping with the rescue is one thing, but fighting that No Light freak? That took some balls.”

I buried my face in a towel. “Dia Mater was the one who saved the day.”

“Don't sell yourself short. Fighting your first supervillain and living to tell it is a luxury many Heroes don't get. Plus, Dia Mater mentioned you succeeded in actually hurting him.”

“Lethal power,” I said, shrugging.

“But limited fighting technique.” Kabash crossed his arms. “What were you so frustrated about anyway? You weren't paying attention. That's dangerous while using equipment.”

I uncapped a water bottle, resisting the urge to douse it over my head. The water soothed my throat on its way down, but the blaze within me remained. I tossed the bottle into the bin.

“Seen the news?” I asked.

“The FG stunt?” Kabash grabbed a bottle of his own from the stand. “Our guys will handle it.”

“You don’t think we should be bothered?”

“I do, but the CAH will figure it out.” He glanced at me. “Don't lose too much sleep over this, kid. Take this piece of advice to heart. Worry, do what you can, move on. You don't want to be bogged down by too much baggage when the real threats come.”

Catherine had said something similar. Was there a code of conduct they all had to read?

I toweled my face again. “I can do that.”

“Good.” Kabash finished his bottle. “Now, let's talk training. Did any of what I taught you come in handy back at Sagidi?”

“I think so,” I said, struggling with the details. “No Light was strong. Maybe on par with Activity? He seemed a little off-kilter too. The only time he came into melee distance, we ended up hurting each other. I would be dead if Dia Mater hadn't intervened.” I looked down at my arms. “I recall being tired before the fight started. I moved a lot of debris.”

“We'll mix in some stamina training then,” Kabash said. “No one really knows where the energy behind superhuman processes comes from—”

“Alternate dimension.”

He snorted. “Yeah, let’s go with that. But there are real benefits to upping your endurance either way. You won't be able to aim for shit if your arms are strained and your core is busted.”

“I think I should be focusing on my powers though,” I said. “I need to refine it, learn how to adjust the slider in my mind.”

“Slider?”

I waved my arms. “Metaphorical. But I can alter the speed at which I shoot things. Usually, I’m panicky when I attack so I don't notice. However, perfecting my control should make me a better fighter.”

“No. Learning how to fight will make you a better fighter.”

“Powers render your fancy judo techniques ineffective. Guns do too.” I smirked. “Which kind of makes the point, since I am practically a railgun.”

Kabash laughed aloud. “So, you think because you are Artillery the human railgun, all conventional styles of fighting are worth nothing to you?”

“Artillery is a banging name. But I prefer Volley.”

Kabash lobbed his water bottle at my head. “What you need is a wake-up call. I propose a spar. Starting distance: two hundred meters. You fight anyhow you want. I do same, but with the restriction that I don’t use my powers offensively. If I must win, I must do so by whooping you in a melee with my powers inactive.”

“That’s unfair. I could kill you before you even got close.”

“You would have a better chance fighting Obong, and you would still lose.”

I frowned. “You know you are injured, right?”

“This?” Kabash said, poking his bandage. “Well, it might matter against someone like Dia Mater. For you though? It won’t even slow me down.”

Fuck this guy. “We don't have two hundred meters here.”

Kabash dropped his arms, the grin evident in his voice. “We aren't fighting here.”

The Newtown Hero Council had settled in Domo, one of a trio of Local Council Development Areas bordering Main-town to the south. The three LCDAs had been reserved for future urban expansion. As a result, land prices were high, large swaths of grounds were unoccupied, and a lot of the upper-middle-class who loathed Out-town but couldn't afford the Dream City proper migrated into Domo and its surrounding regions.

Domo had fewer housing clusters than I was used to in Out-town. Despite this, my eyebrows rose a few meters when Kabash led me to a sprawling woodland about a ten-minute walk west of base.

“This property's ours?” I asked as we trudged along a wide dirt road. Palm trees, taller than they had any right to be, offered shade from the sun.

“It is,” Kabash said.

“Seems wasteful.”

“To you, maybe. The boys need a place to run drills. And our Supers can’t train powers efficiently within the walls of the base. The woods here provide ample grounds to host simultaneous training sessions. The only off-limits section is northward to the helipads.”

I adjusted the waist of my neck gaiter. The smell of treated silk mixed in with the heady scent of the earth. Today marked my first appearance in costume, and I was wasting it on pointless training.

Kabash veered off the dirt road onto a path that was overrun by undergrowth. An isolated cluster of giant trees caught my eye.

“Obong's work?” I asked.

Kabash followed my gaze. “Oh, yeah. That’s from when we tested the lifespan of her creations. Depending on how long they stay materialized, her powers could have interesting applications in industry and reforestation.”

“How long so far?”

Kabash grinned. “As long as the terrain permits.”

I returned my eyes to the path. “No one told me about this place. I could have saved a ton of worries about shooting stuff back at the base.”

“Oh, your squadmates don't come out here often. Protocol demands that you apply for a pass before you're assigned a spot. We perform lots of crazy tests here; everyone's expected to be responsible.” He halted his march. “This spot looks good enough.”

We'd stopped at an open field. A cluster of mango trees surrounded a rectangular arena of sand.

“How should we do this?” I asked.

Kabash gestured. “You go over to that end. I stay on this one. Two hundred meters apart. When we are both in position, we’ll jump thrice on my signal. On completion of the third jump, we begin.”

“That’s a little silly, isn’t it?”

“Can the lip. Consider the jumps substitute for a count.”

“Fine.” I checked that my bandolier was fastened. Shooting range was an appropriate description for the training arena. There were no obstacles or cover of any kind, putting me square in my element. “This isn't a good idea.”

“Alright then. Should I get Dominic instead? I'm sure you can manage a win against her this time. Maybe I'll let you and Alewo take her on just to be safe.”

“Oh please. Give it a rest. I can kill you by accident, you know? This isn’t safe.”

“Try,” Kabash said, sounding way too chipper. “No, seriously. There wouldn’t be any point to this if you don’t go all out. Hit me with everything you’ve got. I will still beat the shit out of you.”

Okay, that was too much. The kiddie gloves were coming off. Sure, he was good, but he was no Saver. I'd come a long way since my fight with Rabidor.

“Let me get this straight,” I said. “I can throw everything and the kitchen sink at you, while you use your powers defensively and try to close in?”

“That's about it. I can order adult diapers for you in case you need them.”

I gritted my teeth. “Let's start.”

We moved to opposite ends of the field.

Kabash wanted me to miss something. I could tell by his pathetic attempts to rile me. He could extend iron rods faster than the eyes could follow. And I could create missiles out of anything I touched. Had we both been on offense, our spar would have been akin to a quick draw duel, one I wasn’t sure to win. With the handicap, however, I was like a gunslinger staring down an unarmed civilian.

No. Snap out of it.

Kabash was an experienced Hero. He had to be hiding his cards, some trick he could use to utterly destroy me.

The wind rustled through the trees, cresting the top of my head.

Kabash raised a hand, and we both took the first jump.

What was it? What else could he do? Transmute his entire body to iron? That would explain his confidence in the face of difficult odds.

We completed the second jump.

No. That wasn’t it. Turning metallic would only up his defense, and I had all of two hundred meters to chip away at it. His trump card had to be something else. Something that granted him the absolute certainty that no matter what I tried, he would close the gap.

I fingered the stones hidden within my pockets, frowned, and unhooked a shell from my bandolier instead. The anomaly struck me on the zenith of the third jump.

Kabash’s arms were bare in costume, lacking glove or band or gauntlet. It made a lot of sense seeing as he transmuted those arms in battle. However, sometime during our preparation, he had also discarded his shoes.

Oh, crap.

I launched the shell a few meters above Kabash the instant my feet touched the ground. His legs extended like twin jets beneath him, launching him straight into the sky. Those jets retracted up to him, and I clocked at that moment the full extent of his strategy.

I should have taken the diapers.