Engine sounds.

Somehow, I heard them over the thunder and rain.

I was crouched behind a van, thoroughly battered by the barrage cascading over my head. My costume pressed against my skin, flattened in the rain. The fingers on each hand had frozen sometime during the night, and my bandolier sagged, filled with more water than ammunition.

Despite it all, I couldn't stop a grin from spreading across my face. It had been a long night but the wait had finally borne fruit. Our target had arrived.

I chanced a peek across the bonnet of the van. A black sedan pulled into the parking lot, headlights steaming in the rain. Two men alighted, brandishing umbrellas against the onslaught. They didn't look like gangsters, but I wasn't sure what gangsters were supposed to look like. They made for the building’s entrance: a shadowy warehouse hidden amongst other shadowy warehouses.

I tapped my earpiece, switching my radio to transmit. “V-one here. Target has arrived at my location. One car. Three or four passengers within. Over.”

Did they catch that over the rain?

Kabash’s reply put my worries to rest. He sounded relieved. “V-one, this is K-omega. Maintain position. Over.”

“Alright.”

“All units, all units, this is K-omega. Converge on V-one’s location. I say again. All units, converge on V-one’s location. Do not answer. Out.”

“Should I take them?” I asked. “I think I can take them.”

“V-one, this is K-omega,” Kabash said, and his voice was curt. “Do not engage. Standby for backup. Over.”

“Got it.”

Kabash muttered a few choice words before killing his transmission. Something about teaching us proper etiquette.

I crept along the van, keeping my eyes on the sedan. The parking lot wasn't too spacious, but it proved sufficient enough to sneak around in. The van I had appropriated was one of a few parked around the warehouse, which in turn was one of many scattered around the Area.

Back when Newtown still held a lot of promise, the Mutu Minna Area had served as a warehouse district feeding the factories set up within the Industrial Zone. Many of those factories were defunct now, and the warehouses associated with them sat empty and barred behind rusted fences. It made perfect staging grounds for the Four-oh-Four. If anything, I was surprised it hadn't been busted sooner.

“V-one, V-one, this is K-omega,” Kabash said over the radio. “The target should be riding within the car. Do you have eyes? Over.”

“Not yet,” I said. “Err, over?”

“Copy, V-one. Out.”

The sedan thrummed in place, headlights off. The two men still didn’t return.

I shivered as a violent wave of rain and sleet washed over me, forcing me closer to the van. The weather sucked and would only suck worse if our target had avoided the trap. Crime lord Evans was big. About as big as one got in the Four-oh-Four after a decade of murder and scheming. The Police suspected he controlled the syndicate’s drug distribution network. However, suspected was just Spanish for: We know it’s him. We can prove it's him. But there’s nothing anyone can do to him considering his political leverage.

Nothing legal, at least.

Pro-now wanted Evans brought in for questioning, and that was the end of that. It had taken weeks for Intelligence to engineer bait strong enough to lure out Evans. But they’d done it, and the notoriously cautious crime lord had come rushing out to the warehouse in the rain, in the dead of night.

We’d also been warned that this was a chance that couldn’t be replicated. We had one shot to nab Evans, and by golly, we weren't screwing it up.

“All units, this is A-four,” Activity said over the comm. He had been covering a separate warehouse, like each member of the team. “I have arrived at V-one's location. Over.”

“A-four, this is K-omega,” Kabash said. “Do not answer. Stand by for further instructions. V-one, V-one, I need an update on the target. Over.”

“Yeah, erm, this is V-one,” I said. “Nothing's happening—”

Two men raced out of the building, leaving the door open in their wake. They made a beeline for the sedan, not even bothering with their umbrellas. “Dammit, they are on the move,” I said. “They know!”

“Stop them!” Kabash cried, discarding all etiquette.

The sedan slammed into gear.

I threw my power into the van, and the vehicle blasted across the yard. It smacked the wall in front of the sedan. The latter skidded out of control, tires screeching along the grounds. It recovered a half-moment later and zoomed off toward the exit.

Oh no, you don’t!

I broke into a run. Catching them on foot was a daydream, but if I could shoot the tires, get them to stop—

“Out of the way!”

A brick wall barreled into me. I turned weightless for a brief moment, and then I hit a surface, rattling my teeth. I careened onto the ground and lay there in the water. Church bells echoed in my head.

Activity blurred past me. He reached the sedan, and a crunching noise went off like so much rock metal.

Kabash yelled something over the radio.

Static.

“K-omega, this is A-four,” Activity said. “I stopped Evans. V-one needs help though. We had a big collision. Over.”

More static.

“V-one?! Are you alright?”

I responded with a groan.

“What happened to V-one?” Neviecha asked over the channel.

“Probably a concussion,” Activity said. “We collided, and he went flying into one of the vans.”

“So, you gave him a concussion,” Bazaar said.

“Shut up. We ran into each other. It's darker than black out here.”

“That is enough,” Kabash said. “A-four, secure the target, then make sure V-one is alright. I will be there in a few. Over.”

“Wilco, K-omega. Out.”

A coppery taste filled my mouth. Rainwater pooled in my nostrils. I didn't feel concussed, but then, what was a concussion supposed to feel like?

A silhouette approached me in the rain. The harsh sounds of footfalls worsened my headache.

Nenye. She had been hit. Just like this.

“Oh, my bad,” Activity said, stopping beside me. Light pulsed in golden bands down his form. “I am, like, so sorry, dude.” He peered at me with a sneer. “Are you going to lie there all night? I mean, it's a good look on you, but still.”

I raised my head from the puddle, reaching for his throat.

He pushed me back down. “Rest.”

More footfalls. Bazaar appeared in my field of vision. “Fingers, are you alright?”

“Oh, great,” Activity said. “Look after him, will you?” He disappeared before she could answer. Sounds like shrieking metal filled the distance.

Bazaar hovered over me, dabbing a cloth across my forehead. She lifted my head off the ground and placed it on her thighs. A gunshot went off, clearing the fog in my head. Bazaar froze, but more shots didn't follow. Activity's voice rang over the comms.

“We've been played,” he screamed. “Evans isn’t here.”

“What?” Kabash said.

“It's just his goons,” Activity said. “He didn't come out!”

Kabash cleared his throat. “N-seven, N-seven, this is K-omega. Do you copy?”

“Loud and clear, K-omega,” Neviecha replied.

“Scour the area, N-seven. I want any suspicious vehicles stopped. Over.”

Neviecha’s transmission warbled. A jet engine roared in the distance.

I wobbled to my feet, pushing Bazaar off me.

“Hey!” she said.

Fumes expanded up to my ears. Activity. That bastard needed to die. Screw whatever became of it. I would grab his idiot face and launch him into the moon.

Activity stood hunched over the sedan. The latter had been ripped apart into large pieces. Three occupants lay flat on the ground beside him, unmoving. He looked up and grinned as I approached.

“Now, isn’t this deja vu?” he said, pausing to snicker. “I don’t think you should be walking so quickly, manchi. Concussions are nothing to sneeze at.”

I kept straight for him.

Activity's eyes gleamed. “So, this is how you want to play it, eh? Fine. Do it.”

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

I got in his face.

His grin widened.

Darn it. He wanted this. Wanted me to hit him. It would go on record that we suffered an accident, and I’d sent him flying in retaliation. He was risking injuries of his own, all for the chance that I got kicked off the team.

Think, Chachi. I wouldn’t come out on top fighting on his terms. I had to bide my time. Strike when he least expected it. Anything less would leave me looking like a fool.

I took a deep breath and tapped his shoulder. “Thanks for your concern, bro. But I think I hurt my teeth. ‘Got blood in my mouth and all.”

Activity snorted. “Why are you telling me? Save your complaints for the doctor.”

“You won’t even take a look?”

“Huh?”

I spat into his eye.

Activity stilled.

“Aww, my bad,” I said with a straight face. “I’m, like, so sorry, man. My head’s a little banged up. Kind of difficult to keep things in while I talk.”

“I see,” Activity said. He smiled down at me. Then his expression contorted, and he raised a fist.

An explosion rocked the warehouse, throwing us off our feet. Glass windows shattered, pinging the yard with shards. I crawled out of harm’s way and covered my head as two more explosions boomed in the night. Flames licked out of gaps in the warehouse, hinting at the inferno within.

“What's going on?” Bazaar said, some paces behind me.

“All units. This is K-omega!” Kabash called. “Take cover. The Four-oh-Four is cleaning house.” An explosion interrupted him. “Dammit. They knew we were coming. Change of plans, guys. I want you out of the Area ASAP! Fall back to FRV.”

“I'm hurt!” Harvest said before he could finish. “A piece of roofing hit me.”

“Copy that, H-b. Get to safety and wait,” Kabash said. “I’m heading to your position—”

“I'm going,” Activity interrupted. He glared at me as I rose to my feet. “This isn't over, Volley.”

“Leave him alone, jerk wad,” Bazaar said.

Activity bristled. He ran off into the night.

I swayed, having expended the last of my stamina in the confrontation. Bazaar caught me before I could fall.

“You okay?” she asked. “You've got blood coming out of your head.”

“I'll live,” I grunted. “Thank you.”

“That fucker. We need to get back at him.”

“It was an accident.”

Bazaar shifted under my arm. “You can't be serious.”

“I am. It was an accident.”

“Fuck you. If you're chickening out—”

“I'm not”—and I shivered at how hard my voice sounded.

Bazaar said nothing. We stood there in the parking lot, whipped senseless by the rain. Fire danced within the warehouse, seeming to imitate my mood.

It burned red.

I sat in the med bay, sporting the god-awful hospital robes and flip-flops. The bright lights and white tiles had been comforting at first, but after an entire night spent in their company, I missed my room underground.

The doctor, a genial old man with a bald patch and a face marred by a lopsided grin, looked over my results. “Ever had brain injury at any point, Chetachi?”

I winced. “Yeah. I took a nasty hit to the head as a kid. I got better after bed rest though.”

“Well, it's all good this time,” he said. “Brain scans check out. No permanent damage. You will recover from this one yet.”

“Thank you, doc.” I fingered my scalp.

“No touchy,” he said. “The quick gel has sealed the wound but I don’t want you infecting it.”

“Sorry.”

The doctor shook his head, tutting. “You know, you Supers never cease to amaze me. I understand that you don't stay hurt, but that doesn't mean you should ignore necessary precautions. Helmets, people. Really. Why do none of your kind bother with overhead protective gear?”

That got my attention. “We don't stay hurt?”

“In a sense,” he said, returning the results to my file. “You didn't think it odd that you recovered from rib fractures in less than a week? The human body is awesome but not that awesome. Studies have proven that having powers goes hand in hand with improved senses, a high threshold for pain, and enhanced recovery.”

Ah. I didn't know that.

The doctor raised an eyebrow. “Don't go around getting ideas that you can survive falls from multiple stories though. You Supers might be cockroaches, but you can still die.”

“I promise I wasn't planning that.”

The doctor snorted.

I looked around the ward. I had been assigned a private cubicle, with a bed as hard as plank and a small TV mounted on the wall. The med bay was larger than it seemed from the outside, with its allocated area extending up to the first floor. Someone in the CAH had prepped for a small war.

“Am I going to scar?” I asked the doctor.

“You won't,” he said, placing the file in my cabinet. “You can worry about that for bigger wounds, but even the largest scars have become a non-issue with recent advances in medicine. If anything, you should be more concerned about your concussion.

“You might be among the tiny fraction of humanity blessed with superhuman abilities, but the brain is still a brain. Take enough strong blows to it, and you might override your ability to recover. Be sure to protect your head for the next few weeks.”

I sighed. “That's going to be difficult. Teenage Hero and all that.”

The doctor clucked his tongue. “I’ll inform Pro-now you need a few days off. But it's meaningless if you don't take the opportunity to de-stress.”

“Yeah.”

He glanced at his watch. “And with this, my shift is over. I need to check up on my clinic. Return by eight tomorrow morning for a follow-up.”

“Will do, doc. Thanks.”

He left me to my thoughts. Said thoughts didn’t last all of three minutes before a knock sounded on my door.

“Come in,” I said.

Kabash walked in, or more accurately, his civilian identity did. Where his physique was cause for envy even amongst trained athletes, his facial features were anything but. Kabash as Joel had a stub nose and a thick chin nowhere near flattering. His lips hastened to smile though, and an eagerness painted his features, putting him no more than thirty.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

I gestured at my head, shrugging. “Doc said it's a concussion. But I don't feel too different. Didn’t need sutures for the wound either. He recommends bed rest.”

“Glad to hear,” Kabash said. “And don't worry about your duties. You are on leave, effective immediately.”

“How's Harvest doing?”

“An aluminum sheet lacerated her leg. She'll recover, maybe faster than you. I'll cut straight to the point. Activity—”

“Was an accident.”

Kabash growled. “You're still going with that?”

“I was chasing the car, sir. I should have been more aware of my surroundings. Thankfully, it was nothing serious.”

Kabash rubbed a palm across his face. “I'm not stupid, Chetachi. Bad blood is an understatement for the malaise festering between you two. However, I can’t do much here if you don't work with me.”

“There's nothing to say, sir. I'll like to think it was an honest mistake.”

Kabash looked at me. Really looked at me. Then he sighed. “You are considered for leadership of the team. Do you know that?”

My heart skipped a beat.

“Dia Mater is fond of you. Pro-now thinks you’ve got a good head on your shoulders. Rabidor . . .” he paused. “Okay, forget I mentioned him. But you are also among the two Pacesetters Odim would vote. A fair number of your squadmates look up to you already. However, the general consensus among the brass is that you need to step up. No one will offer you anything until you prove your ability to rein in the more volatile elements of your team.”

Elements like Toye. Oh, I intended to rein him in alright.

I lifted my feet into the bed. “That’s a lot of expectations right there,” I said. “But I will do my best. Thank you.”

Kabash hummed.

“What happened today?” I asked. “What went wrong with the plan?”

Kabash's change in mien was instantaneous. “A mole,” he said.

“Within the police?”

“Within the Council.”

A chill ran up my spine. “Didn’t we plan to raid the warehouses together with the police later this week? We can't say with certainty that our people leaked the info.”

“The planned bust was a lie.”

He didn't need to expatiate before I caught his meaning. The CAH had lied about the raid to those involved in the mission. A tactic that would lure a mole into acting under the assumption that potential leaks couldn’t be traced.

“Jeez,” I said, letting out a breath. “How many of us were told this lie?”

“The Pacesetters. Adult team. Intelligence.” He grinned. “I see you get it now.”

“But I thought Evans was a high priority target? Was it necessary to blow the chance to catch him just for this?”

Kabash laughed. “Screw Evans. Which do you think is more important? Arresting some drug lord that could secure his release after making a few phone calls, or confirming that we have sellouts in our ranks?”

“But we didn't nab the sellouts.”

“We know they exist now. And we are certain they are entrenched in our upper ranks. We will smoke them out. You can bet your life on it. The alternative is simply not an option. We can't send our people into dangerous territory, knowing that our enemy is one step ahead.”

All this secretive business was worsening my headache. “Wait, why are you telling me this? As a Pacesetter, shouldn't I be suspect too?”

Kabash smirked.

“You were testing me,” I said.

“Pro-now decides who stays in the loop. I just follow orders. You understand though that you can’t divulge this secret to anyone?”

I didn't even want to know it. It was difficult enough to sleep at night knowing armed guards patrolled above me.

We endured a terse silence.

“I guess we still managed a win,” I said, wetting my lips. “The Four-oh-Four must have taken a huge blow, destroying their warehouses like that.”

Kabash shook his head. “No. They emptied them beforehand.”

“What? How?”

Kabash sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Things go crazy when powers are involved, Chetachi. Always remember that. We suspected it would come to this. Evans was working with the information that he was being targeted. Destroying the evidence means we have nothing left to stick to him.”

“But that's crazy! The property damage alone runs into the millions.”

“Oh, you don't know the Four-oh-Four,” Kabash said, almost sounding impressed. “Crazy is what they do. It won't be the first time too. Before the CAH established a foothold in Newtown, the Four-oh-Four was up against vigilantes like Rabidor. They took some major losses early on trying to decipher his abilities. You know how those work, right?”

Very. The asshole had chased me down to my house. “He has a keen sense of smell?”

“And sight. And hearing,” Kabash said, listing off his fingers. “All Supers have enhanced senses as a rule of thumb. Rabidor’s are even keener. He's an excellent tracker, but there are caveats. He is most effective with fresh scents. An interval of an hour or so is about enough to throw him off. He also can't differentiate them when there are too many strong ones clustered in an area. The Four-oh-Four didn't know of this. They lost a lot of their Supers and crime lords to the authorities early on.”

He linked his arms around the stiles of his chair. “Sadly, they are smarter now. If they think they are compromised, they turn tail and burn. It's almost insane. They are nothing like the concrete crime gangs over in Lagos who don't have a Rabidor to fear.”

“It's still a lot of money,” I said.

“Money they have,” he agreed. “You don't compete for Supers with the SRA and CAH if you don't have the moolah to throw around. But you are right. They must have a powerful sponsor. Someone whose endgame we can't see yet.”

I looked down at my hands. Funny how the news outlets made the stuff the CAH did look as easy as showing up and punching evildoers. In actuality, the evildoer punch-up was barely a quarter of the job. Most of the Council’s time was spent at the planning table rather than in the field. White-collar Heroes. Heh.

Kabash studied me. “You sure you have nothing to say about the incident yesterday?”

I kept my eyes on my hands, avoiding his gaze. Kabash had shown via this discussion that he held a sizeable amount of respect for me. What was the point in proving stubborn? Sure, I had a bone to pick with Toye, but so what? I could report what happened and let the adults deal with him as they saw fit. He had gone beyond what the top brass would tolerate. Concussing me on purpose? Kabash would haul him into a cell with No Light.

The anchor rose in my chest.

No. I didn't care if Toye was thrown out of the team or not. But I wanted it done on my terms. I wanted to stick the knife to him and look him in the eye as I did.

Kabash rose to his feet. “Get some sleep, Chetachi. I awarded your team the day off and granted you an extra four days to recover. Our official unveiling holds in that time, and we'd like everyone to be in top condition for it. Figure out how to spend your free time.”

“Yes, sir.”

He threw a casual wave and exited the room. I sank into the bed, which was a feat by itself, seeing as the mattress was about as soft as an ironing board.

Leader of the Pacesetters, huh? The title had a nice ring to it. Shame that I wasn't one—wasn’t a leader. I had nothing on Alewo’s smarts and couldn’t wreck a battlefield quite as Obong could. Heck, Ava even had more balls than I did.

Better me than Toye though. I'd rather lick toilets than take orders from him.

I snickered, raking a hand across my face. What I needed was a breather: a chance to center myself and chart the course future events should take. I’d been so consumed with being Volley the Hero, I’d forgotten how to be Chetachi the lad.

The injury was a stroke of good fortune in that sense. I could back away. See the big picture by observing the small. So much had happened in the three weeks since I’d joined the CAH that I’d forgotten a lot about my initial aspirations.

I missed my family.

There was one person that could help with that problem. Or maybe I told myself that because I needed an excuse.

I picked up my phone.

Eden had texted often since my departure, but her messages had petered off in recent days. I replied when I could, but she’d probably become dissatisfied with our difference in enthusiasm. This time, I would be chatting her first.

I sent a tentative ‘Hi’.

She replied within two minutes. ‘Hey!’

I mulled the words over in my head. ‘I'm in town. Wanna meet up morrow?’

Eden didn’t respond for a few minutes, then she beeped. ‘I get off at three. Give me a place N I'll be there.’ Pause. ‘Dad would like to know who I’m meeting with though. Mind if I give him your number?’ A longer pause. ‘He won't bite.’

I smirked. ‘Not scared of him. But I can't vouch for the things I'd tell him.’

‘Lolololol. He's heard of you. He’d just like to know I'm not off doing something else.’

‘I'll tell him we are doing something else.’

‘Idiot!’ Then in typical Eden fashion, she posted a ridiculous meme.

I burst into fits.