“Don’t do this, James,” Pressure said gently to Detective Armstrong.

“Get out of my way,” he said.

He hardly looked like a threat. He was a heavyset man with disheveled salt and pepper hair and eyes drooping with exhaustion. He took short, measured steps, his posture leaning forward like he was walking through a hurricane. Even with her arthritis, she thought she would have no trouble outrunning him. Yet she dared not get near him.

He stood inside a man-sized hole he had made in the wall of the Portland Police Bureau, giving the office behind it a breezy view of the street. The jagged edges looked like it had been blasted out by explosives. It had been the making of that hole that alerted Afterimage to the scene, with Pressure and Blink following closely behind. But it had not been made by explosives. As if in demonstration, Armstrong expanded the hole by punching at the cinder blocks beside him. Chunks of cement went flying out to join the debris littering the sidewalk between himself and Pressure.

Pressure stood behind a crumpled desk she had found out in the street, thrown there by Armstrong in a fit of frustration just moments before. She kept it between them to provide some cover against flying bits of rock, not wanting to use her powers for protection. The shield of compressed air hindered her ability to see him and vice versa. She needed Armstrong to be able to look her in the eyes if she had any hope of talking him down.

“How dare you cut me loose! Early retirement my ass,” he grumbled to Detective Collins who stood behind her. “I’ve given my life to this place for twenty years. And you want me to leave. For what? Anky Spondo whatever? Something I can’t even pronounce? It’s just another word for useless. I am not useless, you son-of-a-bitch!” Armstrong stepped toward them through the hole and out onto the sidewalk.

“Don’t blame me. I’m just the messenger, “Collins replied. “I wanted you to hear it from me and not human resources. You can’t do the job anymore. It’s not your fault you’re sick. It’s time to let go. You’re getting your full pension. Go enjoy it on a beach somewhere.”

Pressure felt bad for Armstrong. Ankylosing spondylitis was a rough diagnosis. It was another type of arthritis she remembered reading about while researching her own disease. It made a person’s joints stiffen up until bones fused together. She remembered x-ray images of spines looking like solid branches of bamboo, an inflexible rod of bone. It was not something she would wish on her worst enemy, and Armstrong was a nice guy.

Armstrong took a step closer, his fists tightening in threat. His newly blossomed power, driven by his disease, had made those fists into lethal weapons. Her powers had helped her survive many things, but she feared a single punch from him might be the end of her. She could not allow him to come any nearer.

“Stop right there, Detective,” Pressure warned. “Don’t make me do something we’ll both regret.”

“You heroes don’t understand. You and your powers,” he spat in disgust. “Us little people get left behind and get crapped on.”

“I understand more that you know. You’re not little people, James. You never were, and you’re not now. Especially now.” She wished she could talk to him in private, let him know he was not alone. He was in denial about what was happening to him and couldn’t see the evidence in front of his eyes. His illness, crappy as it was, was giving him amazing abilities. He was potentially more useful now than he had ever been before. But Detective Collins’ presence made it impossible to have a conversation.

“Don’t do it! It won’t work!” said Blink through her wireless earpiece. Pressure had no idea what she was talking about and didn’t have time to ask. Armstrong took another step, his face contorted in anger and menace as he raised his fists.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Pressure told him.

Pressure swept her hand before her in an arc. The desk flew up as did a hail of cement fragments, hitting Armstrong in the face. To her surprise, the desk bounced off him like it was made of paper, and the stone chips dropped from him like rain. Only his unkempt hair swept back from the gale of wind caused by Pressure’s power. He never stumbled. He continued to put one foot in front of the other, slowly advancing toward her.

“What the hell!” she exclaimed. “What do I do? My power isn’t working,” she growled to her teammates through the earpiece.

“I told you so,” said Blink. Pressure hated it when she did that, which was all too often. Having someone on the team able to see the future was getting annoying.

“Get out of my way,” Armstrong said.

Collins put his hands on Pressure’s shoulders. Whether it was to use her as a shield or to keep himself from running away, she wasn’t sure. For a man who had frequently expressed a dislike of superheroes, it was oddly supportive.

Afterimage arrived as backup. Swooping down from the sky, he collided with Armstrong, the light of his glowing body enveloping the detective. But instead of picking the man up and carrying him away as Pressure had seen him do to criminals time and time again, the light stopped abruptly in place, pulsed frantically for a few moments, and was suddenly thrown away. Afterimage crashed into the windshield of a nearby parked car, glass shattering into thousands of tiny pieces. The collision set off the car’s alarm. It’s honking horn hurt Pressure’s ears with its whining. For a brief moment Afterimage’s glow dropped to reveal the man beneath. He had landed in the passenger seat, his expression startled and confused. He shook his blonde hair from his eyes before light blazed to envelop his body once more. Afterimage zoomed out through the window and upward, returning to the sky.

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He needs a haircut, Pressure thought to herself, briefly imaging herself brushing away locks of hair so she could see his blue eyes. Then she shook off the thought. She needed to keep her head in the game. Focusing on the threat before her, she considered her options.

“Move. This doesn’t involve you,” Armstrong grumbled again as he continued toward her and Collins. Without the desk, she felt exposed and vulnerable. Since her powers had developed, it had been some time since she had felt actual fear. She had to work to keep her knees from knocking together.

“Not happening,” she responded despite her better judgement.

“I’m not leaving you, James. I’m here for you.” Collins’ voice warbled, his own fear showing through. Like her, he was determined to stand his ground.

Other police officers started arriving, clustering around them, guns raised against one of their own. Pressure cursed to herself. She suspected bullets would do nothing against Armstrong. It would only force her to use her power to protect Collins from being hit in the crossfire.

“This place is my life. I can’t let you take that away from me.” Armstrong sounded more sad than angry.

“That’s already done, James,” said Collins in response. “Just look around you. The only difference now is whether you go to jail or go home.”

That stopped Armstrong. He thought for a moment, his brows wrinkling in thought as he considered his options. Then he looked at Pressure, his face hardening in determination. “I’m going to jail either way, Gene. My life is over. Might as well make it official.”

“There is nothing more you or Afterimage can do,” Blink said in Pressure’s ear. “It’s my turn.”

“Stop. You can’t…” Pressure started, but it was too late. Her friend appeared out of thin air beside the Armstrong. Dressed in a dark blue martial arts uniform with a face mask and hood, all she needed was a puff of smoke to complete her ninja like entrance.

Blink put a hand on the Armstrong’s shoulder. Caught off guard, he looked at her in surprise. Before he could shake her off, they both disappeared with a pop of displaced air.

“Damn that girl,” Pressure grumbled.

“Shit,” said Collins. “I didn’t know she could do that.”

“Yeah, she can do that.” Pressure sighed in worry. Blink had been teleporting too often lately, making her epilepsy worse. Teleporting another person was even more stressful for her. Pressure hoped she was ok.

“How are you doing?” She asked Collins to distract herself.

“I’m ok. She’s not going to hurt him, is she?”

“No. Not her style. I’m more worried about her.” She looked around, realizing that they were still surrounded by armed police officers who were still on high alert, guns out. “Can you tell your friends to relax?”

Collins made patting motions with his hands. “Hey guys, guns down. It’s over.”

Once the officers had holstered their weapons, Afterimage descended from the sky to land beside her. He toned down his glow, but even so Collins had to put a hand over his eyes to see over the glare.

Afterimage put a hand on Pressure’s shoulder as if sensing her need for support. It was a disconcerting feeling. She lost all sensation in her arm and her stomach began rumbling as if she could feel him deep inside her. His emotions were transmitted to her in the form of visceral feelings she was still learning to interpret.

“Yeah, I’m worried about her too,” she replied to the implied question, hoping she had understood him correctly.

Suddenly Blink appeared beside them, alone and unharmed.

“There you are. Where is he?” Pressure asked.

Blink held up a finger to stop her. “Excuse me.” She leaned away from them, pulled down her mask, and vomited her lunch of curry and rice out onto the street.

Pressure put a hand on her back. “You gotta stop blinking like that. You going to be ok?”

Blink heaved again in answer. Pressure glanced over at Afterimage with worry. “I told you to stay back,” she said to Blink. “It’s making you sicker.”

“I had to do something.” Aware of all the people around her, she wiped her mouth and pulled up her mask before standing to face them.

“We could have figured something out,” said Pressure. She sighed in resignation. “But what’s done is done. What did you do with him?”

“I dropped him off at a campsite on Mt. Hood. Nice, calming place this time of year. Nothing to destroy but porta-potties.”

“Which one? We need to tell these guys.” Pressure gestured at the officers around them.

Before she could answer, though, Blink’s gaze went far away, her lips moving like she was chewing on beef jerky.

“Blink, you there?” Her friend didn’t answer. Blink was frozen in place, staring distantly into space and oblivious to the world. Pressure had seen this before. Her blinking had triggered an epileptic seizure.

“Is she ok?” Collins asked.

“She will be. This sort of thing takes a lot out of her.”

No, she’s not ok, Pressure thought to herself, but she couldn’t say that in front of Collins. She motioned to Afterimage who got the message. Moving quickly, he picked up Blink and flew into the sky, disappearing in a smear of light. They were gone almost as fast as their friend could teleport.

She turned back to Collins. “Looks like you’re safe for now. Alert the forest rangers that Armstrong is out there. Hopefully his time in the forest will calm him down.”

“Hopefully. Before you go, any idea how he got powers like you? He was just a normal guy yesterday.”

“No idea,” Pressure lied. “But I plan on finding out.” That last was more truthful. She knew there was a connection between chronic illnesses and superhuman powers. Why some people got powers through them and others did not was a mystery she needed to uncover.

Unfortunately she would need to worry about that tomorrow. Right now she was more worried about Nora. Her seizures were becoming more frequent and it was taking her longer to recover. She needed to slow down and take a break. Pressure rubbed at her hands, feeling the ache of her arthritis through her gloves. The same was true of herself and Afterimage. He was using his powers more and more to ward off the worst of his symptoms, and she needed to use her’s just to get out of bed in the morning. The rebounds were getting worse. Faced withever increasing agony, they were forcedto use their powers more and more to ward off the worst of the pain. It had become a never-ending spiral that was slowly killing them.