I didn't care what happened to Lekan from here on out. The realization chilled me, but events had taken a turn that didn't allow for sentiments.

I had given it my all and courted death in the process—all for the sake of an uptick in my bank balance. Concern was an overdraft I didn't intend to draw.

I crashed onto the sofa, grimacing as the fatigue caught up to me. Ever since my Emergence, it had been one issue after another: a swollen face, fractured ribs, a concussion, and now, a broken arm. How long could I keep doing this before I slipped up? Before an opponent dialed my lucky number?

Not long.

I closed my eyes, ignoring the images of gunmen and hideous monstrosities streaking unbidden behind my eyelids. What would my family think if they saw me now? Not as Chetachi, their son and brother, but as the wounded Hero Volley, member of the Pacesetters, who was helping a murderer evade the law, all because he wanted to rent a nicer home.

I deserved these wounds.

A cricket hopped across the lantern, casting its shadow on Lekan’s med-kit.

Lekan. I wouldn't be caught dead hanging out with him in a dark alley, but his eyes changed when he spoke about the Center. A change I recognized. I often wore the same look whenever I stared in the mirror while combing my sister’s hair.

He loved the Center. He'd lose sight of everything should it be threatened. And I could respect that because I knew I would do the same.

AV, Lekan, and I. Three different individuals. Three dissimilar circumstances. Yet, we had more in common than I’d care to admit. Complete. Utter. Fools.

I fixed my bandolier in place—a pain to accomplish with one arm—then trudged through the deserted building toward the carcass decorating the entryway. I hurried past it, not wanting to chance a second round with the beasts. A small breeze blew in from the south, as malodorous as ever, but a new addition coated the landscape: the color red. It pierced the night and rose in spires above the trees and building tops, casting fearful shapes beneath the sky.

Screams reached my ears, hollowed like from a distance far off. But those screams weren't distant, and the fires didn't rage somewhere on the horizon. The blaze burned here in Sagidi, all around me, and I would be caught in the inferno if I didn't make scarce.

The short fence ringing the perimeter looked more daunting now that my arm was in a sling. I improvised, pelting a portion of the wall with stones. The fires hadn't consumed all of East-end yet. If I avoided the screams and went down south, I could find an unhindered route to the Market and hail a cab back to the base.

The screams got louder, as if in defiance of my thoughts. Ugh.

“Come on, Chachi,” I muttered. “Don't do this. You’re hurt. You have no business here.”

AV would notify the Council of the ongoing crisis. The Heroes would journey to Sagidi, bringing a resolution along with them. Lekan could handle himself.

I strode down south.

What is your reason for being a superhero? Dia Mater sang in my head.

“To give my family a better life,” I whispered.

My family. Mine. Everyone else could burn for all I cared. Was that what I felt when I stood on piles of rubble and pulled survivors out from within?

You're full of shit.

A small chuckle escaped my lips, gaining in pitch until a sharp ache spiked against my ribs. The voice that laughed was mine, but it sounded ragged to my ears, like many donkeys braying in divergence.

I turned back toward the inferno, smothering the rationalist in me before he could broach the folly of my choice. It didn't matter what lengths I took to keep my family safe if the city fell to shambles around them. Newtown was my home—our home—and it was in my best interest to keep the dangerous elements in line. The Four-oh-Four had torched Sagidi today. Tomorrow, it could be the Old Layout. Screw them.

I continued down the path. My arm and ribs screamed all through the way. Sweat pooled beneath my costume as I put one foot forward, then the other, relying on conviction to see me through. My feet determined their direction before my mind caught up to them: the Luminary Christian Center.

What must have been a thirty-minute journey back when I tailed Lekan now seemed to stretch into an hour. The acrid stench of smoke assaulted my nostrils and its wispy fingers tugged at my eyes. A small crowd gathered in the streets and alleyways, gibbering in a myriad of local languages. They jumped at the slightest sounds and formed familial groups, most of them wild with terror. Two women ran past me, hauling bucketfuls of water and sand.

The air gained a noticeable warmth. For once, I appreciated the fact that my costume wasn’t anywhere as fancy as Activity's. No one raised an eyebrow as I passed, and I waded through the crowd who concerned themselves more with the horrendous blaze than with a masked boy sporting a sling.

A large group of wailers obstructed the street in front of me. Giant flames caroused across buildings and rooftops. People ran in and out of houses, carting their valuables with them. A separate group made crude firefighting attempts, but this far gone, their actions were nothing but exercises in futility. Further beyond the lurid flames, rampaging noises intensified. That was not good.

What cues could I use for navigation? Bodies pressed in on me on all sides, distorting my bearings. I walked past a street and doubled back when I recognized the bar shack burning in a heap by the side. It lay in its near-deserted street, a consequence of sparse housing. The Luminary Christian Center towered over the other structures, smoking but not on fire.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

Jason paced the front of the building, screaming his lungs out. “We need five more people to follow after Sarah and the kids! It's madness out there. Grab anything that's not valuable or bolted down. We are building a barricade!”

The Luminaries gathered around him, adults and teens in various stages of undress. They held a hose between them that ran into the backyard. Judging by the smoke curling up from their lawn, their efforts had succeeded.

“Jason,” I said, stopping beside him.

Jason whirled on me. “Huh? Who?”

The situation didn't call for cheek, but I could do with some levity. It had been a long day. “Guess.”

Jason sputtered. His eyes widened. Smart guy.

“You,” he rasped.

“Yes. Where is Lekan?”

“Did you do this?” he asked instead. His group, about twenty in all, closed ranks around us.

I drew out a sigh. “If I did, I wouldn't be here. I warned, didn't I? This is the Four-oh-Four's handiwork.”

Realization flickered through Jason's eyes. “The Four-oh-Four? What do they want? What do you want? Why . . . why all this?” He looked around the hell-turned landscape. The well of confidence evaporated from his voice. “This is too much. Even as a warning.”

It was. God knows, it was.

I cleared my throat. “The situation will worsen. Don’t let your guard down. I need to find Lekan. Now.”

Jason's eyes hardened. “Strange how things deteriorated after you showed up.”

I gaped at him, then laughed.

The people around us shifted nervously.

“I'm a Hero, you halfwit,” I started to say when a ruckus exploded around us.

Kids, about thirty in all, flowed past me, joining our group. The oldest couldn't have been any more than twelve. They cowered behind the adults, jabbering in panic. A smaller group of women arrived seconds later, bearing weapons. Sarah—the girl from before—stumbled into the lead. Her hair fanned out behind her and multiple strands stuck to her face.

“Sara—” Jason said.

“Hide!” she hissed. “Thugs are blocking the roads. About a hundred of them. They chased us back here!”

A murmur ran through the gathering.

“What thugs?” someone asked.

“I don't know,” Sarah said, wheezing. “But they were armed, with Molotovs too.”

“They started the fires,” a woman cried.

Jason rubbed his face. “Gather the kids and the vulnerable into the house, Sarah. The rest of you, weapons out.” He spoke calmly, his expression anything but.

The Luminaries exchanged glances. They took up arms, mostly bits of firewood, though a few brandished cutlasses. They barged onto the street, just in time to intercept a larger group headed their way.

Sarah had exaggerated the number, but the advancing thugs still totaled more than I could count. They didn't seem practiced either. Many of them looked worse for wear, all bad teeth and snarls and swears. They waved weapons in the air, flaming sticks and two-by-fours, and chanted in a northern-sounding dialect.

The hair rose on my nape. These were thugs for hire, and not just common thugs. They were the worst sort, picked from the bottom rung of society. Jason's group wouldn't stand a chance.

“Stop right there!” a Luminary said. “One more step and you will see hell. I swear it!”

The thugs laughed.

“Burn down,” one yelled.

“Move or die!” another chanted.

The cold edges of knives and broken bottles glinted in their midst. My wounded left arm throbbed. Teeth as sharp as those weapons had sunk into me not too long ago. This wasn't my fight. If I went through the backyard and found the hidden exit Lekan used to—

Jason stepped forward, waving a bat. “Turn back this moment. Filth like you have no business here.”

The thugs responded with a Molotov. It coursed through the air and terminated in a plume of fire near Jason's feet. Two more of the makeshift bombs went sailing into the Center. One shattered against a window. The other exploded on the roof. A child screamed.

Dammit. I could not ignore this.

I strode into the fray, pushing past the shivering Luminaries. Jason squared off with a thug. The latter tried to dart past him and ate a bat to the face. The thug fell, squealing like a stuck pig. His cronies responded, and over ten of them rushed forward, bloodlust boiling in their gazes.

The man in the lead lunged at Jason with a knife. I stepped in and caught his arm with my good hand.

Jason and thug grunted in surprise.

“Hi,” I said.

My power flared and the man tore backward into his cronies. Silence like cold water descended over the melee.

“You're a Super?” Jason croaked, sounding light-headed.

What the hell, man? Did you think I came dressed for cosplay?

“No one crosses this line,” I said, drawing a boundary on the ground with my boot. Then to make my point, I grabbed the fallen thug—the one Jason had hit with a bat—and launched him down the street.

The effect was instantaneous.

The thugs scattered. Cries of ‘Super’ and ‘Hero’ escaped their lips. The Luminaries gave chase—a pointless endeavor. We were in the clear for now. Whether our status stayed that way, however, was an entirely different matter.

“Is that man alive?” Jason asked, gesturing at the last thug I sent flying. He lay unmoving in the distance.

“He’ll live,” I muttered. “His people broke his fall.”

“But—”

“Don't even try getting all bluenosed at me. You hit him with a bat first, remember? If he wasn't dead then, he isn't now.”

Jason stuttered, eyes bulging out of his head. “I-I don't know what came over me. I just responded. I didn't mean to.” His hands flew to his face. “Oh god, I killed a man, didn't I?”

“Why don't you check up on him before jumping to conclusions?”

Jason took a deep breath. “Yes . . . you are right. I should do that.” He shook his head. “Thanks for the help. Really.”

“Lekan . . .” I started.

“Yeah, he came by here,” Jason said. “Shortly after the fires started. He mentioned something about putting an end to the chaos.” He eyed me. “I'm not sure how much you know, but—”

“I know he is a Super.”

“Right.” Jason nodded. “Right, you would. Thing is, Lekan has been defending our people from those who tried to hurt us. He always dealt with any troublemaker that came along. I just didn't expect those troublemakers to be the Four-oh-Four.”

I hummed. “I’m going after him, but I will need to borrow your phone.”

Jason handed me a smartphone.

“No promises I'll return it though.”

He winced.

I punched buttons on the keypad, ignoring the shame that washed over me as I failed to remember any of the numbers I needed by heart. I sent a text message to the Council's helpline, which was easier to memorize.

‘Fire in Sagidi,’ I wrote. ‘R-case active. Contact.’

It was a long shot, but AV was a natural at eavesdropping. If he couldn't reach me and knew of only a few ways I could contact him in an emergency, what would he do?

Jason returned from checking the fallen man. A smile lit his face. “He's conscious.”

I put the phone on vibration and shoved it into my pocket. “Good. The fact that he’s conscious doesn't mean he'll live though.”

Jason's smile fell. “Is there anything we can do for him?”

Maybe. But did I care?

A new clamor stopped me from answering.

The Luminaries returned from their little jaunt, more panicky than they had any right to be. They waved frantic arms and shouted indecipherable words.

“What's going on?” Jason asked.

“Trouble,” a bearded man said. He pointed at the scene.

A large group of Luminaries formed a defensive semi-circle with their backs to Jason and me. A lone figure approached them, visible through the gaps in formation. He was tall, easily as tall as Lekan, and strutted up to the group, dressed in a crisp black suit and purple dress shirt.

His gloved hands adjusted his tie, and the hilt of a jackknife poked out of his suit. A white overhead mask covered his face, styled in the image of a smiling baby. In the light of the fires, the image looked downright demonic.

“That's a Super,” I growled. But which? Hero or Villain?

The intruder answered my unasked question with his next words. He spoke in a jovial manner, garnished with a theatrical flourish.

“Hello, everyone. I'm Hebe,” he said. “I hear there's a wannabe Hero around here. Can he come out to play?”