by TJ Klune
“No,” Jazz said immediately. “I would know. Daddy tells me almost everything, whether I want to hear it or not. If he thought your dad was doing something wrong, he’d say something. I don’t think they know anything other than what we’ve already told them.”
Nick felt a little better hearing that. But then, a little better wasn’t much in the face of betrayal. “Gibby? What about your parents?” He didn’t think for a minute Trey and Aysha would be involved in this, given how angry they were at Nick’s dad, but today had been a stupidly awful day, and he had to make sure.
Gibby didn’t answer. Nick raised his head to look at her. She was staring off into nothing, eyes slightly glazed over. Jazz rubbed the top of her smooth head. “Gibby?”
Gibby shook her head. “No, I don’t think they know anything. But—”
“But what?” Seth asked.
“We’re going to be busier than usual,” she said, as if he hadn’t spoken at all. “How long is it going to be before Nick suits up himself? And with all the new tech we have, it’s going to be more important than ever to have someone here. Multiple someones. Jazz can’t handle it on her own. Martha and Bob have done it for years. They deserve a break.”
“What are you saying?” Jazz asked.
She tilted her head back, looking up at her girlfriend. Jazz smiled down at her, confused. Gibby grinned back. “I’m saying that you all can’t do this without me. You’ll probably end up dead or captured or arrested, and I can’t have that.” She looked at Seth, then Nick. “I’m going to stay in the city next year for school. Howard is a good school. A great school. But I want to help change things here in Nova City, and I can’t do that if I’m hundreds of miles away. This isn’t just about Extraordinaries. It’s about making sure people have a voice, someone fighting for them who doesn’t have to wear a mask. And I can be that someone. I know I can.”
Guilt rolled through Nick, grating and harsh. Even as Jazz squealed and Seth squeezed Gibby’s hand, Nick said, “Gibby, you can’t make decisions about your future based on us. That’s not fair to you.”
Gibby frowned. “That was uncharacteristically mature of you, Nicky. I don’t like it.”
Jazz didn’t either, if the way she glared at Nick was any indication, but he had to get this out, even if he couldn’t believe what he was saying. “I love you. Nothing would make me happier than if you stayed in the city next year. But is this what you really want?” He shook his head. “Paths diverge. Seth, remember when you said you didn’t know if you wanted to do this forever?”
Seth nodded slowly. “I still haven’t made up my mind.”
“I know,” Nick said. “And whatever you decide, I’ll support it. But we don’t even know what I can do, and Seth doesn’t know what he will do. What if I’m just a fluke, and Seth decides to hang up his suit? What if Team Pyro Storm disbands, and Lighthouse isn’t needed anymore?” He was getting worked up again, but he couldn’t stop. “Won’t you hate us for taking this opportunity away from you?”
She didn’t say anything for a long moment, giving Nick enough time to squirm uncomfortably. He was about to push more when she lunged at him, wrapping him in a tight hug and lifting him off the ground, feet dangling. His back cracked, and he laughed as she spun him around. She set him back down, hands on his shoulders. They were almost eye-level, and Nick was hit square in the chest by how much he cared for these ridiculous people. They were his, and no one could take that away from him. Maybe things would change in the future, but here, now, they were together.
Gibby said, “I could never hate you. I’ve been thinking about this for a long time, longer than any of you know. I’m doing it for me. We’re growing up. We need to start making decisions for ourselves. It’s what I want, and no matter what happens, I know I’m making the right choice. I can help. And more than that, I can be a voice for change. Besides, my parents always wanted Howard more than I ever did. I’m doing this for me.”
Jazz sniffled. “I love us. We’re the best.”
“We really are,” Seth said quietly.
And because she was Gibby, she punched Nick gently on the shoulder. “And seriously, you really think I’m gonna leave right when you’re becoming an Extraordinary? Like I would miss you doing stupid shit like exploding streetlights or getting attacked by cups.”
“It wasn’t that funny,” Nick muttered.
“It was,” Jazz said. “You and I were running screaming down the street. I’m sure it was hysterical to many, many people. Including me.” She jumped down from the washing machine and pushed her way between Gibby and Nick. She cupped Gibby’s face, thumbs brushing the skin underneath Gibby’s eyes. “You sure?”
“Completely,” Gibby said.
Jazz kissed her sweetly. Well, it started sweet, and then Gibby grunted and lifted Jazz, who wrapped her legs around her waist without breaking the kiss, and Nick groaned. He loved his girls, but he really didn’t need to hear the way Jazz gasped as Gibby mauled her face.
“What do we do now?” Seth asked him, sounding amused.
“Now?” Nick said. “Research. We need to find out everything we can about Smoke and Ice, and what Burke is up to.” He also needed to find out as much as he could about Miss Conduct and the Extraordinary only known as TK, but he kept that to himself. He couldn’t take the chance they were villains.
And then there was the matter of Guardian …
One thing at a time.
“Sounds like a plan,” Seth said as Gibby did this thing with her tongue that looked wet and disgusting, but that Jazz apparently found quite agreeable. “We also need to see what you can do.”
Nick nodded. “I like the way you think, Gray. Especially since it’ll most likely involve a montage in which I attempt to use my powers in increasingly hysterical set pieces where I try to lift a Buick or jump from the top of a building to see if I can catch myself before I hit the ground.”
Seth sighed. “That’s not what I meant at all. I swear to god, if you try and jump from a building, I’m going to—”
The basement door opened. Gibby set Jazz on her feet as Bob called down, “We have a problem.”
* * *
Martha stood in the living room, hand pressed against her throat. She looked up at them as they filed in, crowding around her, Bob bringing up the rear.
Steve Davis of Action News smiled aggressively at them from the television. “And now, to our top story tonight. A short time ago, violence erupted in the streets of Nova City with the Extraordinary known as Pyro Storm at its center. We go to Rebecca Firestone, live at the scene. Rebecca, what can you tell us about this latest attack?”
The screen switched to Rebecca Firestone standing on a sidewalk, flurries falling around her. Behind her, police vehicles lined the street, lights flashing. Beyond them, a familiar alley. Rebecca Firestone nodded solemnly. “Thank you, Steve. Earlier tonight, Pyro Storm found himself in the middle of yet another brawl that caused thousands of dollars in property damage, as well as injuries to people in Nova City. We have exclusive footage of what took place, provided to us by a concerned citizen who wishes to remain anonymous, fearing reprisal from the superpowered denizens that stalk our streets.”
Rebecca Firestone disappeared, her high-definition evil replaced by grainy cell phone video. It’d been taken from the mouth of the alley. Bright flashes of fire and ice burst across the screen, followed by billowing smoke. Pyro Storm was clear. Smoke and Ice were clear. The fourth figure, hood raised over his head, wasn’t.
Not until he raised a trash can above his head, preparing to hurl it.
The screen froze. Though it was still a bit fuzzy, it was obviously Nick.
“Oh no,” Nick whispered.
“Look at you,” Gibby said, sounding impressed. “Your workout routine finally showing some results, huh?”
Before he could answer, Rebecca Firestone said, “While we at Action News don’t typically name minors, tonight we’re making an exception. Since I know him personally, I can s
ay without any hesitation that one Nicholas Bell was once again involved in the fray. If you’ll recall, Mr. Bell took part in the Battle of McManus Bridge, where the Extraordinary known as Shadow Star fought valiantly against Pyro Storm last fall. Many are still convinced that Shadow Star was set up by Pyro Storm, and Owen Burke, the now-seventeen-year-old behind Shadow Star’s mask, has not been seen since, nor have any charges been filed against him or Pyro Storm relating to the deaths of two Action News team members. While Pyro Storm’s motivations remain unclear even to this day, the central figure in this ongoing mystery has always been Mr. Bell. What does he know? When did he know it? What is the purpose of his inane manifesto disguised as fanfiction?”
“Inane?” Nick growled, outraged. “I don’t even know what that means!”
The screen, still stuck on Nick, zoomed in. Nick’s face was twisted in an ugly sneer, making him look like a monster. Rebecca Firestone continued. “Our attempts to speak with him over the last few months have been repeatedly stonewalled by his father, Nova City police detective Aaron Bell. Aaron Bell, who three years ago was demoted after assaulting a witness, was recently promoted to head the Extraordinaries Division, a top-secret faction of the NCPD, whose budgetary information has not been released. A spokesperson for the NCPD told us earlier this year that the funding didn’t come from taxpayers but declined to elaborate further.”
The screen cut again to a man eating a burrito, Rebecca Firestone standing next to him, microphone at the ready. “Sir, could you tell us what you saw?”
The man had guacamole on his lip. “Oh yeah. There I was, minding my own business. Just doing my thing, you know? Got off work, thinking about what to get for dinner. I was going to get Chinese, but then I saw this new Mexican place opened, and I haven’t had a burrito in a long time. I thought, You know what, Jerry? You deserve a burrito. So then I got one.” He held it up to the camera. “But it’s cold now because of Pyro Storm.”
“Exactly,” Rebecca Firestone said, ever the despicable professional. “But not only did Pyro Storm let your dinner get cold, he also destroyed cars and hurt people.”
The man nodded, crumpling the tinfoil around his burrito. “I don’t know much about that. Jerry does what Jerry does, you know? Anyway, I was walking down the street, burrito in hand, when I heard fighting. I don’t normally get involved in such things, especially when I’m hungry, but then there was fire and ice and smoke and explosions.”
“Explosions?” Rebecca Firestone asked as a chyron appeared on-screen, proclaiming PYRO STORM RUINS MAN’S DINNER WITH EXPLOSIONS. “How big were the explosions?”
“Gigantic,” Burrito Jerry said. “It sounded like bombs were going off. Things were exploding, and I thought, Jerry, you know what? You gotta get out of here. I tried to run, but then that Pyro Storm dude started riding fire, and then the others came after him, and I hid behind a 1967 Mustang. Good car. Good year.”
“What are your thoughts on Pyro Storm?” she asked.
Burrito Jerry shrugged. “Don’t know much about him. I think he’s like me, out there trying to live his best life. I get burritos; he gets to burn things. Don’t make no difference to me.”
The screen switched again, Burrito Jerry disappearing as Rebecca Firestone appeared alone in a close-up shot, looking into the camera. “An innocent bystander named Ronald Ronaldson was injured in the attack. He was taken from the scene to Nova City Memorial, where I’m told he’s currently being treated.
“I conducted a flash poll earlier tonight, asking ten people their opinions on Pyro Storm. Seventy percent said that he’s a menace on par with a domestic terrorist. Twenty percent said that he’s doing good work, but I believe there was a chance they misunderstood what I was asking. The remaining ten percent only wanted to discuss his burrito, obviously too frightened by what he’d witnessed. Troubling times for our fair city. It appears the court of public opinion has reached a verdict on Pyro Storm and found him guilty. And with me now is someone who has firsthand experience in dealing with the Extraordinary menace.”
The camera pulled back into a wide shot. And there, standing next to Rebecca Firestone, looking dapper and severe, was Simon Burke.
“Motherfu—” Nick began to snarl, only to be silenced by a glare from Martha.
“Simon Burke,” Rebecca Firestone said, “thank you for joining us.”
“It’s my pleasure,” Burke said gravely, “though I wish it was under different circumstances.”
Rebecca Firestone nodded, eyes sparkling. “Your son, Owen, was revealed by this reporter last year to be Shadow Star. Is that correct?”
“Parenting is difficult,” Burke said, breath pouring from his mouth in a white cloud. “You try to do your best for your children, but sometimes they find themselves on a path that they can’t be diverted from.” He bowed his head, as if in grief. Quite the show. “I wish I could’ve done more. Hindsight can be a terrible thing.”
“No one blames you,” Rebecca Firestone said, reaching out and squeezing his arm.
“Thank you, Rebecca,” Burke said, smiling softly. He looked directly into the camera. “Last year, I announced a new initiative in order to better understand our Extraordinary brethren. While we haven’t yet gotten the results that we’d hoped for, we’re slowly moving forward. Tonight’s events are a clear indicator of the need to know who these people are and what they can do—which is why tonight, I’m announcing a new phase in our plan, one that I hope will help other parents who may find themselves in a position like mine. I was too late to help my son, but I need to learn from his and my mistakes in order to create a better future for us all. Burke Pharmaceuticals is launching the Save Our Children campaign. If you believe that your child is exhibiting signs of abilities beyond what humans are capable of, or if they might know someone who is, you can visit SaveOurChildren.novacity and fill out the form you’ll find there. It asks for comprehensive information, which will be kept confidential. Our goal is not to curtail the superpowered, but to help them explore options that will ensure their safety and the safety of their families. Our children are our most precious resource, and we must do all that we can to help them in this newfound existence we find ourselves in. It’s becoming abundantly clear that the NCPD won’t help us, so we must do it on our own.”
Rebecca Firestone said, “Quite the impressive announcement—one I’m sure will help parents sleep better at night, knowing someone in your position cares. And while you’re here, Mr. Burke, I do have to ask: Is there any truth to the rumor you’re considering a bid to become mayor of Nova City in the next general election?”
Burke chuckled and Nick’s skin crawled. “Ah, rumors. I have nothing to announce at this current time. But when and if I do, you’ll be the first to know. Consider it an exclusive, for all the tribulations you’ve been through.”
“Wonderful,” Rebecca Firestone gushed. “Before we let you go, is there anything else you’d like to say?”
“There is,” Burke said. “I have a message for Pyro Storm and anyone who might be helping him.” His smile widened. “You think you’re doing the right thing. You think you can turn the tide. But things are already changing. I don’t blame you for what happened with Owen and Shadow Star. If anything, I’m grateful you stopped him before he could hurt anyone else. But tonight has shown me that you’re no more in control than my son was. Meet with me before someone else gets hurt. I promise you, I’ll listen and do whatever I can to help you. Come forward before it’s too late.”
“Wise words from a wise man,” Rebecca Firestone said as the camera focused back on her. “For Action News, I’m Rebecca Firestone. Back to you, Steve.”
“A damning indictment of the current state of affairs,” Steve said in the studio. “Why do people eat pickles from a barrel? The answer may shock you. Stay tuned.”
11
Monday morning was cold and dark, like the depths of Nick’s heart.
“I guess I could be the brooding kind of hero,” he muttered. “Filled with
rage and a lack of self-preservation, unable to stop fighting because it’s the only thing that makes me feel alive.”
“Yeah, let me know how that works out for you,” Gibby said, and he jerked his head up to find his friends staring at him in various stages of amusement. They were on their way to school, but Nick had been lost in thought, trying to figure out the type of superhero he was going to be. He hadn’t spoken to his dad since Saturday, ignoring the increasingly intense texts and voicemails he’d left. Nick hadn’t been home, either, and now wore chinos and a cardigan—the only thing Seth had that fit him, much to his dismay. Seth made it look good. Nick looked like a defeated professor who hadn’t gotten tenure.
They’d spent Sunday researching the far corners of the internet, searching for any sign of the new Extraordinaries. While Seth and Gibby and Jazz had been all about Smoke and Ice and Burke, Nick had huddled over his phone, logging into his fic before dismissing it. If there was ever a time he didn’t feel like writing, it was now. Closing it (and disappointing his legions of fans), he’d turned toward looking for anything about Miss Conduct and TK. The internet failed him once again, and though he almost looked up the queer bars in the city to see if he could find where Miss Conduct performed, he left it alone. Seth was right. She deserved her anonymity, if that’s what she wanted. And now that Burke was chasing after them via Smoke and Ice, it was better that Miss Conduct stay hidden for now.
The searches for Guardian hadn’t yielded anything that Nick didn’t already know. There weren’t any clear pictures of her, cell phone cameras nowhere near as ubiquitous as they were today. Nick read through multiple news stories about her, but they were old and mostly archived. Nothing about her identity, only that she had appeared one day out of nowhere, foiling a kidnapping of an ambassador’s husband by a gang of radical separatists. From there, it was stopping bank robbers, assaults, and that time the large globe in the Financial District had broken free from its moorings, rolling down the street and nearly crushing a group of nuns on holiday from their convent in Lithuania. Guardian had saved them at the last second.