Footsteps echoed across the damp concrete, a splash of moonlight illuminating the man's body as he fought against a torrent of water. His sweat was drowned out by the rain, and he held his hands close to his chest, cupping his prize protectively. 

The tips of his runners hooked into the pavement and single ragged gasp escaped his lips as he tripped. He shot out a hand to stop his fall and winced as the concrete slammed against his skin.

The package shot out onto the ground, plastic wrapping splattering limply against the dirt and mixing with the muddied street water.

"Are you okay?" A female voice floated into his ears.

The man saw a woman rushing toward him, an umbrella raised and her hand stretching out to help.

"Shit." His curse was drowned out by the torrent around him.

His hand pushed against the ground, and he lifted himself up with ease. He saw the woman step back in surprise as six and a half feet of toned and muscular flesh rose off the ground, blonde hair sticking to the back of his neck as he checked for injuries. 

She plastered a smile on her face as she realised, he didn't need her help. Instead, she knelt down and picked up the package she had dropped. She shook loose droplets off of the plastic covering it.

“You dropped this— oh.” Her eyes dimmed and he bit his lip.

It was a book, but it was the size of an encyclopaedia. A solid tome encased in a metal cover for dramatic effect. The cover of the book was displayed prominently in bright flashy neon blue.

[Blue Shield’s Biography: The life of an A-Rank Superhero unveiled.]

There was a note on the bottom dedicated to him.

[Dear Walden, you're a super-cool dude.]

She handed the thick book back to him without meeting his gaze and he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. 

"Thanks,” the word flowed out of Walden’s mouth, but the woman was already moving further down the street, disappearing under a sheet of rain.

His lips tightened and he continued on his way. It wasn't easy being a superhero nerd. Not in this city. Not in the world. 

Not when they were losing.

“Sunny my ass.” His fingers covered his eyes protectively. 

The city lights were a blur as he made his way through the streets. For the seventh time in a minute, he cursed the weather channel’s lack of accuracy. Humans could fly to Mars and shoot laser beams out of their eyes, but nobody could say whether the sky was going to be clear or spit on him. 

His apartment was ten minutes away in good conditions. Even if he didn't mind getting into a fight with nature this wasn't a battle he was going to win. His eyes glanced to the side and he spotted a narrow alleyway behind a convenience store. It was fully covered further within, leading into a bent pathway covered in potholes.

“Perfect.” Walden made his way inside, walking until the water on the ground stopped sloshing over the soles of his runners.

What greeted him was a narrow pathway into the back of the convenience store that opened out into an open-air parking lot. He could see a single truck parked sideways, taking up four spaces. Plastered on its side was a cartoon logo of two vegetables with hands and mouths. Their grinning faces were rusted over, a faint green glow poking out from the holes formed by the rust. 

Walden rested his back against the wall and let out a sigh of relief. The book was nestled in his arms, and he could feel its metal cover pressing down against his pecs.

He’d walked across the city and paid a mint to get this limited-edition copy signed and he wasn't going to risk losing it if he tripped in another puddle. 

"YOU SICK BASTARDS!” 

A woman’s cry shattered the peace of his shelter and a shiver crawled down his spine. The shout had come from behind the truck. A quick glance underneath the undercarriage of the vehicle showed two pairs of legs, one person in high heels and the other wearing loose jeans. Both had raincoats over their casual wear.

"I wouldn't go calling out names. You're one of us too now,” a gruff voice floated into Walden’s ears. “Get back inside and I won't tell the boss this happened.”

Walden stepped away from the truck and deeper into the alley, careful not to alert the duo to his presence. He prefered the rain over a domestic dispute any day. 

The sound of clicking heels against concrete rose into the air and he paused, his body moving back and pressing against the brick wall as a woman appeared from the side of the truck. Auburn hair flowed out from a thick raincoat hood and a purple bracelet on her wrist glinted in the moonlight. 

She was followed closely by a man with a pockmarked face. 

“You don't turn your back on me,” the man behind her clenched his fingers with a scowl, a different ring on each finger. “Who do you think I am?”

"From the way you're yapping on I’d say you're a person who can't shut up," the woman flicked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Bombs? I'm not a terrorist! Try to hold me back or use my inventions and I'll go straight to the heroes. Good luck finding another Tech.”

She had her back turned towards him, both of them close to the alleyway now.

Walden held his book close to his chest and his heart beat rapidly as he spotted them making their way towards him. Both of them only had eyes for each other, the dark of the alleyway and the sheet of rain giving him a veil of disguise.

The green light glowing out of the truck provided Walden a perfect view of the scene before him. It illuminated the couple as they moved, bathing them in a shimmering green pallor that grew brighter by the second. Neither of the pair took notice of it.

With a skidding halt the man stopped, watching the woman draw closer to the alley. His eyes bore into her back and Walden saw him reach his fingers into his pocket. 

"You're right. We're going to need another Tech,” the man brought out his hand. 

There was a gun resting in his palm.

“Look out!” The words escaped Walden’s mouth before he could stop them. 

The woman froze as she heard his cry and then the cocking of the gun. She turned around, her raincoat flinging drops of water around her, but it was too late. The man's finger pulled on the trigger.

She felt a force push into her side, knocking her over into the concrete ground.

Walden had slammed into her, pushing her out of harm's way. He had a brief moment to stare at the deadly weapon pointed at his chest, regret flashing through his mind.

A single flash of light from the barrel of the gun was the last thing he saw, the shot oddly silent as the flash mingled with the rain and green glow for an instant.

Then his body crumpled to the ground.

"Who the hell was that?" The gunmen stared at the woman.

They both looked at the dead man on the ground. His figure was large even as it was spread out across the ground and his lips had spread out into a peaceful smile. The woman reached out toward him with her hand, confusion flitting over her features as her heels scratched against the pavement. He'd thrown her out of harm's way.

And it had cost him his life. 

“That hurt,” a single groan escaped Walden’s lips.

He heard the woman shriek in surprise as he rose from the ground.

What just happened? Walden thought to himself.

His ears were ringing, and his mind was cloudy. He shook his head and winced as pain shot through it. He’d slammed into the concrete but couldn't remember why.

Then he looked down at the woman on the ground and the events of the last few seconds shot through his mind. He had moved to save the woman instinctively, and then he remembered seeing a single flash of light.

‘Oh crap. I stood in front of a gun. Stupid. Stupid.’ A shudder ran down his spine. 

The man with the gun looked at him in shock, staring at Walden’s undamaged chest and then at his gun. 

“You're a super?” The man’s hand twitched, his gun shaking slightly.

Walden patted his chest and shook his head vigorously in denial, regret flooding his mind. He shouldn't have gotten involved with these people. He was just an ordinary guy trying to get back to his apartment.

‘Why did I have to go and act like a hero?’ He thought to himself.

"Oh hell,” Walden held up his hands. “I surrender.”

The gunman flinched and stepped back as Walden raised his arms, fear flickering across his features. Walden saw the man scanning him from top to bottom, taking in his full form with caution in his eyes.

"Don't move,” the man nudged the gun threateningly. “I didn't hear about another hero transferring to the city. What do you call yourself?”

A single ripple of terror grasped Walden's heart as he viewed the gun pointed towards him. 

"Walden,” he responded automatically.

‘No. Wait. I shouldn't have given him my real name.’ Walden cursed himself.

His mind was too jumbled to make proper decisions. Sweat coursed down his forehead and neck as his fight or flight instincts took over. He knew from experience that when push came to shove, he went running to the hills. It was his signature move.

“Warden? I've never heard of ya,” the man tilted his head as the gears of his mind turned. 

Then he raised the gun and Walden saw his finger pressing into the trigger again.

With a lightning-fast movement Walden stepped back. He felt the back of his runner press against the uneven and slick floor of the alleyway, his body weight becoming unbalanced as he leaned too far back in his fright.

The next thing he saw was the alleyway tilting on its side and the rain drizzling down on his face, a series of flashing lights spreading out across the droplets and then disappearing. The gunman was emptying his entire clip into the air where Walden had been standing, but he wasn't there anymore. 

He'd tripped and fallen onto his back. 

Walden heard something cross over his head where his chest had been. There was a spray of brick shards against his head as bullets grazed the walls around him, rocketing across the alleyway. He saw a single spark as a bullet ricocheted back towards the gunman, clipping his cheek and rocketing past him.

The bullet dug into the truck, creating another hole for the green light to blaze through. The light within the truck brightened considerably, the parking lot twisting as its sickly pallor bathed the convenience store.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

Walden’s eyes widened and he scrambled up, his body freezing as he glanced from side to side. His hands pressed against his body, checking for a hole.

There was nothing there. 

Every single bullet had missed him.

“You— you dodged them?” The gunman stepped back, his hand shaking. "Toad said there wasn't anyone that skilled in this city. How did you find out about us?”

Walden eyed the man and winced as the green light grew too bright to look at. He heard a single gasp from the woman and the gunman looked at the truck.

The two smiling vegetables on the logo had melted into metal slag, the bullet hole ripping open the interior and revealing a single glowing green box that had been pierced by the gunshot. 

From within the bullet hole a green liquid pooled out and spread across the vehicle's interior, caking every crevice and spewing forth light as it came into contact with the air. 

The gunman’s eyes widened, “crap—”

An explosion rocked Walden, green fire ripping into the surroundings. The walls beside him blew apart and the world disappeared as light assaulted him from every angle. 

The world turned black, and after a few seconds stars spread out across his vision. There was a single groan from a familiar voice.

It was his own. 

As Walden’s mind cleared, he could feel pain criss-crossing his body. The tips of his fingers curled inwards, dragging mud and dirt into his fingernails as they ran across the ground. He took a deep breath and the scent of water and burning mingled together, pressing against his nostrils. He looked at his surroundings and blinked in surprise. 

He was standing in the exact same spot as before.

Above him was a flickering purple light. It was emanating off a single firm screen that stretched over his body from head to toe. 

It was holding back the flames and rain. 

He raised his hand, and his palm gently lifted the purple screen off him. To his surprise it gave way easily and popped like a balloon. He followed the final trails of purple with his eyes and saw them disappear into a bracelet on the floor.

It was the one the woman had been wearing. He picked it up curiously and pursed his lips. 

‘Where did she go?’ The thought briefly caught his attention, leaving him immediately as a wave of heat assaulted him. 

There was fire everywhere. It covered the remains of the parking lot and the convenience store. That was the least of the damage. The buildings on either side of the store were charred, and there was a gigantic hole in the ground, rain pooling down into a massive sinkhole where the truck had been. 

Walden caught a brief glimpse of the hole’s interior. It went down further into the ground than he could see. 

A single still figure laid on the ground of the parking lot, unmoving. His jeans, rain jacket and pockmarked face had been replaced by pitch black charred skin. 

The gunman was dead.

Before he knew what was happening the sound of footsteps smacking against the pavement entered his ears. They were his footsteps. He was running as quickly as possible away from the scene, and the body.

His ragged breathing echoed in his ears as he rushed through the city streets. 

Through the rain he could see people rushing alongside him. Each one was panicking, fear on their faces, and he realised they must've heard the explosion. 

‘Of course they did. It was a bomb going off in the centre of the city.’ His thoughts rushed through him, swept away by the panic in his mind.

Before he knew it he was opening a flimsy and ragged metal door, cuts and scrapes adding flavour to the rust that covered its surface. The door flung open, slamming into the entryway wall and gaining a new dent as he forgot to hold back his strength.

Walden kicked the shoes off his feet and jumped over the edge of his sofa, landing on a mess of sheets and cushions. He pulled the sheets over his body protectively.

Then he stayed there, his nails digging tightly into his palms as adrenaline and fear coursed through his body.

His fingers shivered, his back hurt and his head pounded. Before today his most exciting experiences had been seeing the tail-end of heroes as they flew off into the sunset after stopping crimes. 

He closed his eyes and the image of a single flash of light going off in front of him entered his mind.

He'd been shot. Point-blank. No doubt about it.

But nothing had happened.

He was unharmed.

"Do I have superpowers?" He whispered underneath the sheets, a glimmer of something new and exciting piercing through the fear he felt.

Superpowers.

A phenomenon that still remained a mystery since they had first appeared in the 1960s. Random abilities akin to miracles manifesting inside ordinary people at different times of their lives. One day a person could be as average and unassuming as their peers, and the next they could fly through the skies and defy physics and the known laws of reality. 

Walden clutched his chest, a grin spreading across his face.

Ever since he’d been a boy his dream was to gain superpowers. He followed heroes religiously and had crept across the crowds that gathered at the scenes of crimes hoping to catch glimpses of the caped crusaders at work.

Then he felt his fingers tap against a hard object and he frowned.

It was the book he'd bought and had autographed.

In his haste to escape he'd clutched it instinctively to his chest and hadn't let go. Even when he was running across the city it had nestled in his arms, and he hadn't realised he was carrying it until now. 

He raised it in front of him and glanced at the cover.

[Blue Shield’s Biography: The life of an A-Ranked Superhero unveiled.]

It was the life story of the city’s premier superhero. 

His body froze.

This book was a special edition. As thick as his head and plated in metal as a celebratory means of jacking up the price. He’d been over the moon to get it signed. 

In the centre of the metal cover there was a single bullet hole. It had blasted through the metal and embedded deep into the paper. The bullet’s journey had stopped there, and Walden could see it lodged inside the center of the book. He flipped the pages open and shook the book, the bullet dropping onto the grey carpet.

Walden watched the gleaming metal bounce against the floor.

One. Two. Each bounce sent a ripple of shock through his spine.

The bullet nestled into the carpet, and he was forced to face the truth. He hadn't survived being shot and he didn't have superpowers. The bullet had never hit him in the first place.

He once again ducked under the covers and took a deep breath, filling his lungs as he shouted into the air.

“I swear I'll never leave the house again!” 

**

Blue Shield hovered in the air, surveying the destruction around him. An entire city block had been wiped out by the explosion. People had felt it across the city. Buildings were destroyed and windows a mile away had shattered. Emergency services were cluttered into paralysis from the amount of emergency calls being filtered through to them. His team was fanning out into the surroundings and helping civilians in need.

"I thought the worst thing you'd have to do today was meet a few sweaty superhero nerds,” a chipper voice called out to him from the ground. “I've evacuated the nearby area and kicked out the vultures.”

He looked down and saw a rush of pink blurring in the air. He smiled as his teammate appeared. 

Pink Devil, the vice-captain of their team. 

"They're not nerds. They're fans,” he saw her shrug. “The book signing was a welcome break,” he brushed his fingers over the blackened brick remains. 

The bullet holes didn't escape his attention.

“I just wish I could live up to their expectations. Fifty injured in the surrounding buildings. One dead. I've failed today.”

Blue light underneath his feet shimmered and formed a blue bubble that slowly descended toward the ground, taking his body with it. Once he touched the damp ground of the alleyway, he dismissed the bubble and sighed deeply. The rain had washed away anything of note before he'd arrived. There was no joy left in what was supposed to be a calm and peaceful day.

This kind of event was the exact reason why people said superheroes were worthless. The pink blur stabilised beside the body on the floor, a petite figure wearing a devil’s mask appearing. 

“Maybe we can scratch that one dead man off the list. Come and check this out, Blue,” she raised her hand and beckoned Blue Shield over.

He rushed toward his teammate as she knelt down next to the charred body that lay next to the massive hole in the parking lot. It groaned and Blue Shield felt a flutter of hope in his heart. The person was still alive.

The man wasn't in good condition. Blue Shield could hear him muttering something under his breath, his eyes wide and deranged.

“Retina scan is ongoing,” Pink Devil held a device in front of the man’s face as she raised him up on her shoulder. “We have a match.” 

She froze as the machine beeped, a list of information appearing on the screen. She backed away from the man slowly, giving Blue Shield a signal with her hands.

Without hesitation he waved his hand in the air and a blue shimmer appeared around the injured man, preventing him from falling back onto the ground. He hated the sight of a wounded person going untreated, but when his teammates gave him the signal to fight, he acted immediately. 

“Antonio Gerald,” Pink Devil spoke the words slowly. “One of the three lieutenants in Toad’s terrorist crew. Responsible for seventeen deaths and suspected of conducting several bombings in North America and Europe. Low level super with a durability power set.”

Her words sent a shiver down Blue Shield’s spine. 

Toad.

He knew the criminal’s information by heart. Every superhero did. He was a superhuman supremist that killed normal people as a matter of policy. He was also a wanted A-rank terrorist. 

“I didn't know Toad was in this country,” confusion swept away his caution. 

“He shouldn’t be,” Pink Devil continued typing in her machine. “According to the association he's supposed to be three thousand miles away from here without any contacts in the area. But the convenience store was fake. It's a front. He got the drop on us.”

This entire situation stunk to high hell. Toad’s crew were professionals. A dozen completed bombings in major cities across the world, but his usual targets were large civilian centers and official government buildings. Not convenience stores and backyard parking lots. 

They didn't make mistakes and they didn't kill their own men so publically. Especially their supers. 

“Someone got to him first, before we even knew Toad’s crew was here. Considering the lack of evidence, they must have been pro.” Blue Shield gazed at the deranged man. “Call in the medics. I want him alive.”

“Already done,” Pink Devil gave him a thumbs up. “Hey, I think he's saying something.”

Blue Shield approached the terrorist carefully, examining the man from head to toe. He'd faced enough criminals in his time to develop instincts that warned him when he was walking into a trap. This wasn't one of those times. 

Antonio had seen better days. There was no rationality inside the man, only fear. A deep-rooted terror radiated out from within Antonio’s soul and seeing it sent a shiver down Blue Shield’s spine.

Who could have etched this kind of fear into a hardened criminal?

He maintained his shield and brought his ear close to Antonio’s mouth, Pink Devil keeping a close lookout on the man’s activities. It took him a few seconds to realize that Antonio was whispering a single word over and over again, a single message to the world that tore through the man's broken mind.

“What’s he saying?” A small tremor entered Pink Devil’s voice.

Blue Shield pulled back and in the distance, he could hear the sirens of the emergency services arriving. He gazed at his teammate and knew his confusion was showing on his face.

“It's a name.”

He pulled back and crossed his arms.

“Warden.”

**

A single man sat at a table, surrounded by pale-faced people in uniforms. He surveyed his subordinates with a frown. His rules were simple. His organisation’s members had to have impeccable timing, conniving minds and style, but even the sight of his organised troops wasn't enough to calm his quaking heart. 

Tap.

His finger tapped against the metal table and the people around him flinched. He took in their reactions with a calm facade, not revealing any of his emotions to his subordinates. It wouldn't be good to make them worry. 

Tap.

The situation was unnerving. 

One of his three lieutenants was dead. Antonio was a veteran and he had set up an entire base within the city without the heroes knowing. The one downside of building a secret underground base was that it had to be compact to avoid detection. Most of it had been wiped out in the explosion.

Tap.

Crunch.

His finger broke through the table, the metal screeching in protest as his nail pierced through three inches of solid steel. With a shift of his broad shoulders the table flew through the air, smashing into the wall. Sparks showered over his subordinates but none of them dared move away. 

He stood up, towering over the quivering people that served him.

“Two years of planning. Not a single whisper of my plans to the outside world or their so-called heroes. And now—” his gaze swept across the room, “and now it's all gone in an instant. How?”

There was a sliver of movement beside him and he zoned in on a single boy, barely a man. There was a blur in the air and a gasp exited the man’s mouth as his head was clamped between two massive fingers. 

Toad had always taken pride in his immaculate body, granted to him the moment he gained his powers. He dragged his subordinate in front of him and he eyed the shivering mass of flesh pitilessly. With a single snap of his fingers, he could crush the man’s head like a ripe watermelon. 

Instead, he gazed into his henchman’s eyes and smiled. 

“I won't hurt you. You're my children, and with your help we will raze the old world and guide them toward enlightenment,” his voice softened, “so tell me, how did this happen?”

A single swish entered Toad’s ears and his head perked up. The door to the conference room had opened, and a man in a dark grey uniform walked in, a dagger hanging at his side. 

“Gazer! You've come to bring me good news?” Toad gazed at his entering lieutenant and let go of his subordinate, the young man breathing a sigh of relief and scurrying back into line.

“The base is totalled,” Gazer’s voice was emotionless. “Fifteen of our colleagues are dead. I couldn't save anything. The heroes haven't noticed it due to the extent of the damage, but they’ll find the base and bodies under the rubble eventually.” 

Toad’s fingers curled into fists and fury welled up in his heart. He'd made a lot of powerful enemies over the years, but he knew where they were at all times. If one of them had acted against him he would know it.

That only left an unknown variable.

He hated the unknown. 

“Antonio’s mind is gone,” Gazer hesitated, a flicker of worry crossing his features. “Whoever did this was a cruel son of a bitch. Considering the damage to his body I don't think he’ll make it past the night.”

“How?” Toad repeated his earlier question through gritted teeth. 

“They used our own explosives. And left no evidence behind of their existence,” Gazer’s eyes turned sharp. “In my opinion it was planned and executed perfectly. They knew that striking at this exact moment would do the most damage.”

“I see,” Toad’s voice floated across the ears of everyone in the room. 

He strode towards the metal table he had thrown, and the atmosphere turned silent. With a single hand he raised the piece of furniture, flipping it back over and gently placing it onto the ground. 

“We have a goal. A mission. And the world needs to know the price of interfering with it,” he walked back to Gazer, staring down at the man. “Tell me who we have to kill. And do not say we have no leads, because someone is going to die for this, and I would prefer it not be you.”

He saw a slight tremor in his lieutenant’s arm, the man’s hands instinctively going toward his dagger. 

“The association has a suspect.” Gazer shook his head. “Our spies haven't been able to glean any information on them, which means any intel must be classified higher than any of them can access. They're probably a secret hero association asset. Or someone dangerous enough that they’ve decided the public shouldn't know they exist.”

“Give me the name,” Toad narrowed his eyes and Gazer stopped talking. 

He held out his hand and watched intently as his lieutenant pushed a piece of paper into it.

It had a single word written on it.

Toad’s eyes narrowed, anger coalescing inside his heart and cascading across his body. 

“Who is Warden?”