Walking out into the middle of the street, I wave my arms above my head, trying to get his attention as I run forward, toward the giant tsunami of ice.

“Hey! Frostbite! Over here!” I called, and the wave stopped almost instantly, to my surprise. My jog slowed, and I gave it a surprised look. Oh. He actually was after me. I watched in confusion as he slid down the ice, a smooth path leading right to me.

Calculating eyes focused on the speed with which he slid down, and I hesitated. The moment he got close enough, I took a step aside, watching as he stumbled and fell, giving himself road rash as I turned and sprinted down a small alleyway that I knew led right to the next street.

Gasping, I hesitate at the end of the alleyway, putting my hands on my knees, “Holy fuck, I need to exercise more if I’m going to do this whole “bait” thing again.”

Taking a deep breath, I run down the street to the right. Sprinting, I wait by the next alleyway. When Boreas glanced around, I waved my hands above my head again.

“Oi! Ice guy! Over here!”

The moment his eyes snapped to me I sprinted down the alleyway. I turned the corner of the weird T-intersection of alleyways, only for my speed to decrease. The way I turned was a dead end. I swore loudly, turning and running the opposite way of the dead end, Boreas arriving at the alleyway entrance just in time to see me sprint.

I wouldn’t make it, I knew, looking at how far the exit was. How far even another intersection was. Not to mention I was already out of breath and struggling to retain my speed as I ran. Ice darted above me as I tripped, and I crawl-ran to the next alleyway entrance, barely able to stand up before I was running again.

When I saw the dead end this time, I just continued running. Whatever. I’d led him far enough away that Savant could potentially recover, or get help without being killed. Running harder, I ran two steps up the wall before jumping, fingers barely clinging to the lip of the thankfully short wall, only about seven or so feet tall. Struggling, feet scraping uselessly against the wall, sliding off, I just barely am able to get one whole hand fully on top before a hand wraps around my ankle and jerks me to the ground.

Flailing as I fall, I barely am able to turn to catch my fall, roughly landing on my feet before slamming forward onto my hands and knees, head dragged down by the momentum. Gasping for air, I scramble to my feet and brush myself off, taking a few steps back and crossing my arms.

“Hey,” I said, only to clear my throat and try sounding less out-of-breath as I try again, “I mean, um, hello. What’s up, ice guy?”

Boreas’ eyes were practically glowing, the color of the mist and fog surrounding him. My breath fogged out, and any attempt at looking like I wasn’t heaving for air was for naught. My arms and legs felt weak, and my lungs burned. Thighs aching and calves still dealing with the intense workout, I was just glad I wasn’t shaking as I leaned against the wall I just tried climbing.

I was surprised I’d even managed to jump enough to cling to the edge, and that I was able to cling to the edge for that long. Must have been all the running I do whenever he makes me late, these past years.

White hair flowed, going from unruly to pushed back without Boreas’ hand doing anything as he stared at me. He was breathing heavily too, though probably because he ran much harder and faster than me to catch up. When I brushed myself off, I also brushed my camera off, though I wasn’t sure if it was still recording, or if I’d even gotten it dirty.

“You,” He said, voice much less breath-taken as mine, “You’re Quantify.”

Immediately my expression went from neutral into a frown. I wasn’t even a superhero. My vigilante name was Punt, and I went around hitting villains and criminals with a baseball bat since I was thirteen before my parents found out when I was seventeen and sent me to a Hero Association Affiliated therapist for my “violent tendencies” and “willingness to put myself into danger”, which weren’t even really issues, because I used them on villains, so I was cool.

But Quantify? It was theorized that Quantify had special, super-cool mind powers that allowed them to optimize and bring out the best in any powers. I, in fact, did not have any powers. Sadly. I was absolutely sure I’d use them to break the universe.

That was probably why I didn’t have any, actually.

Maybe the universe was sentient enough to make sure I didn’t have the power needed to accidentally exploit and manipulate the fabric of reality?

“Um,” I said, realizing I’d been quietly thinking for a long time. My head tilted to the side, slightly, shoulders rolling back in a shrug even as I kept my arms crossed. One of my eyebrows tilted up, “Am I?”

Boreas huffed, face stolid even as his eyes remained focused on mine, “Yes. You are the only one to survive my attacks. You’re at every one of my battles. You’re Quantify.”

I blinked, head righting itself as I shrugged and released my arms, putting my fingers into my pant pockets and keeping my thumbs out, “Wish I’d known sooner, then. Quantify has a lot of full-coverage scholarship opportunities, I’ve heard.”

Boreas’ eyes darkened, and his face grew more severe even though he didn’t frown, “Are you claiming that you aren’t?”

My lips tugged up, and I shook my head, “No. I’d not been informed that I was Quantify. You’d think someone would think to tell me I had superpowers and was a top-secret government agent… Or, uh, a terrorist? Someone from the future? There are a lot of theories,” I sighed out, “I wish I hadn’t spent so much time researching myself. That’s a video wasted.”

It’s silent a moment as I genuinely regret all the time I’d spent on a useless video. I supposed I could still post it, before speaking of who I was actually, but… Ugh. That was so lame. I’d spent two weeks researching myself. What the fuck, Google, tell me next time if “Quantify” is the YouTuber known as “Quantified Calculation”. So much time lost. I hate everything. My eyes flick back to Boreas, and I frowned as I realized I’d gotten lost in thought. Again.

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That was why I survived the first time, I think. I’d been already leaning against a wall, arms crossed as I thought, and I only came-to when I noticed Boreas staring me in the eyes, looking confused.

Blinking hard, trying to shake myself of my own thoughts, I focus.

“So. You found me. Chased me down. What, exactly, was the purpose of this cute little excursion of ours?”

Boreas focused, then, expression determined, “I want you to help me improve my powers.”

My eyebrows rose of their own accord, face remaining otherwise expressionless, “I’d already made a video on you, dude.”

Boreas shook his head, swallowing, “And it helped, but I can do so much more. You’ve seen me. At the end of the video, you said that if I was able to figure out the very base of my powers, that I’d be able to defeat even the lauded Superhero.”

I grimaced at the stupid hero name. Why did the villains get all good names? … Oh. Right. That’s because they always loudly proclaimed it. In fact, most villains didn’t kill news reporters unless their entire shtick was being mysterious and hidden, and even then the debut of the villain was always a good place for a reporter to be, because they were genuinely safe. Did the villains just plan out their amazing names, meanwhile heroes just didn’t pay attention until it was too late?

“Quantify,” Boreas said, and I blinked, eyes focusing on him.

“Hm? Oh! Right. Yeah,” I shrugged, “So is your power temperature-based? Water-based? What’s the smallest amount of ice, snow, or whatever you can control before you’re unable to go smaller? Can you control a single strand of cold H2O? How big can you go? Could you move an entire iceberg? More? What’s the range on your senses? Can you feel the cold from outside of the world? Can you feel the arctic poles? If not, how far can you sense ice, cold, and snow? Can you sense it further out if you send ice that far? How far is your range on controlling ice versus sensing it?”

Boreas blinked, swallowed, and opened his mouth. I waited intently, leaning forward slightly as I awaited his answer. When none came, I sighed heavily and leaned back.

“You said you figured out the base of your powers. If you can’t even answer my questions, how am I supposed to help you improve?” Shaking my head, I sighed heavily, my excitement drained, “Whatever. Come get me whenever you actually understand your powers. When you actually find the limits on your powers.”

Pushing off of the wall, I walk around the stunned villain. That was so lame. I had so many more questions, too, but if he didn’t even know the base of his powers, how was I supposed to ask if he could circumvent his limits? How was I supposed to tell him to figure out if he could take the cold out of the air if it was temperature-based? If he could boil the air? How was I supposed to ask him if he could control water or mist if he didn’t even know if it was water-based?

I was immediately making a video complaining about this, I mused, a frown on my face. My foot kicked out, scuffing on the ground as I sighed heavily. I’d make a video explaining what the “base” of a power would be. I’d explain, in that video, that I was chased down. That someone came up to me and asked me to help them, and that they didn’t even know what their powers even were.

Boreas’ rating in my books would certainly take a hit. What sort of idiot didn’t understand every aspect about their powers? Who wouldn’t practice and test and experiment until their powers were absolutely laid barren before them? You can’t reach your full potential if you don’t even know how to properly use your powers. How stupid.

I groaned out, kicking harder at some trash as I passed. Fuck. I was so excited.

“I realize I shouldn’t be this disappointed,” I muttered aloud, “But I honestly feel so… ugh. What a waste of my time. I was so excited…” I continued whining to myself before a worried and patched-up Savant ran up to me.

My head snapped up when his hands landed on my shoulders, and I blinked at the worry on his face.

“Hello,” I said, simply.

Savant’s head jerked back, as if surprised by my quiet, easygoing tone, before he gave me a closer look, “Are you okay? What happened? Where did Boreas go?”

I scowled, kicking at the ground harder, “He asked me to give him some pointers on how to improve.”

“Did he hurt you? What did you tell him? How did you escape?” Savant’s voice was urgent, and he looked around, “Is he still chasing you?”

I sighed, unable to keep the disappointment out of my tone, “No,” I said sullenly, “I asked him some simple questions and he couldn’t even answer.

"How was I suppose to give a detailed analysis of his powers if he didn’t even know how they worked!?” I complained, giving Savant an almost desperate look, before huffing, “He said he had the base of his power down, and I was so excited to find out, but he lied, and it was so lame. I just left.”

“You… what? You were planning to tell him?”

I gave Savant a confused look, “I mean why wouldn’t I?” I grinned, “Powers are so cool. Yours in particular, can I ask you a few questions? No one really knows what yours are, but I have a theory that it’s something to do with probability, or maybe something to do with—”

“Wait,” Savant interrupted, and I grinned at him. His silver gaze focused on me, eyes scouring my expression. Suddenly, a massive wave of annoyance washed over his face, “Punt? I thought you got therapy for your obsession.”

My nose scrunched, a shiver wracking my frame at the mention of therapy. I was still going to it, as the judge had ordered all those years ago, half a decade. My sessions would end in winter.

That wasn’t important right now, though. First, Savant, “Hey! That’s no way to talk to your bestie, Savant. Besides, you telling my parents was so not cool, dude, I thought you didn’t have powers either!”

Savant frowned, “You’re… what, twenty three?”

“Twenty-two, now. That means you’re like, what, twenty-seven? Twenty-eight?”

“I’m thirty this year,” He said, releasing me, “I’ll have to tell your therapist to up the sessions, if you’re still this unaffected by being put in danger. I presume when you said you “just left”, you mean you asked him twenty questions without breathing and then, when he couldn’t answer all of them immediately in the next heartbeat, got disappointed and walked away without another word?”

I blinked, feeling my face burn as I grinned awkwardly up at Savant. I didn’t do that so often to him that he still remembered that about me, did I?

Thinking back, my cheeks only burned harder when I realized like half of our conversations was that exact thing. Me asking him questions, him stuttering to find an answer, and me sighing and walking away. My smile turned sheepish.

“Quantify!” A voice called, and I almost didn’t look, before glancing behind Savant to see that one fanboy running up. Gasping with his hands on his knees next to Savant and I, we gave him a few seconds before he stood up, looking at me with glimmering eyes, “Can I have an autograph?”

I gave him a surprised look, blush fading as I glanced at Savant and then back to the fanboy.

“Um…” I didn’t know how to write ‘q’ or ‘f’ in cursive.

“No, she’s being taken in for questioning by the Hero Association.”

“No the hell she isn’t!” My manager called as she ran towards us, “She needs to get to work! You said you finished last week’s report.”

I blinked, opening my mouth, before gesturing behind me, “Actually, I’m currently being threatened by a, um… Supervillain. Not available right now. Leave a message!” Turning, I groaned at the sight of the black vans with the golden H with wings insignia emblazoned on the sides.

If I ran, I’d be tazed.

… Worth it.