by TJ Klune
Smoke used the distraction to turn and run back down the hall, Ice and Dad floating after her, the black clouds around them shifting angrily. Rebecca Firestone pressed her body flat against the wall, face screwed up in fear. They ignored her. Nick screamed for his father, but they had already rounded the corner, out of sight, leaving Nick standing alone in the ruined hallway, alarm blaring, lights flashing, rows of lockers bent and hanging at odd angles off the walls.
He glanced back over his shoulder. The ice covering the door had shattered. He could go. Do what Dad said. Call Cap. Call for help. It would be safer. It would be smarter.
Except this was Dad.
And Seth.
Gibby.
Jazz.
Their parents.
Mateo too.
Heroes didn’t run away. They didn’t leave their people behind. He was terrified, but it didn’t feel important.
What was important was the way they took care of each other, had each other’s backs no matter what. They were a team. They were a lighthouse, a beacon in the dark.
He turned away from the doors and took off down the hall where Smoke had disappeared with Dad and Ice, toward the sound of screams. As he ran, he found the name on his phone he was looking for and hit the call button, ready to bring in the cavalry.
The phone beeped in his ear. He pulled it away, looking at it in horror as he skidded to a stop. He had no service. He’d always had service in school, but now? No bars. It was useless.
He took off again, about to put his phone back in his pocket when it was knocked from his hands as he collided with a group of people running in the opposite direction.
Boys and girls, all dressed to the nines, their faces bloodless and panicked. Nick was shoved against the wall as his phone fell to the ground. It landed a few feet away, but before Nick could grab it, a tall boy stepped on it as he fled. The screen went black as it broke, pieces chipping off as it was kicked away.
Nick groaned. He’d just gotten that damn phone.
He tried to push himself up but was knocked back by the rushing crowd. He pressed his hands flat against the wall, ready to do what he had to in order to get to his father, when a hand wrapped around his wrist, pulling him up. He was about to thank the person when he saw who it was, and the words turned to dust and blew away.
Rebecca Firestone grinned at him, chest heaving. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes sparkling. She must have chased after him down the hall. “I guess that makes us even.”
Nick glared at her. “Are you out of your damn mind? Get the hell out of here with that nonsense, you hack. I saved you from falling off a bridge. We’re not close to even. What are you doing here?”
“Following a story,” she said, pushing a button on her camera before pointing it in Nick’s face. “Care to explain what happened in the hallway? Quite a display of powers. When did they manifest? Is it telekinesis?”
“If you don’t get that camera out of my face, I’m going to shove it up your—”
More screams from the cafeteria. Nick pushed by Rebecca Firestone, wishing that she’d be forced out with the crowd of people trying to flee. Whatever was happening, he hoped the fire alarm had given people some warning. As he pushed his way through the tide rushing against him, he looked for his team. No sign of any of them.
He winced as people crashed into him, elbowing him, hitting him in the chest, face, and stomach. He kept his head down as he continued, trying to yell above the noise for everyone to get out of his way.
Eventually, he made it to the doors that led to the cafeteria. They hung on their hinges. People stampeded through the doorway, practically climbing on top of each other. A girl fell to her knees, her dress tearing. Her cheek had a smear of blood on it, and Nick bent low, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her up. She gasped as he brought her to her feet. “Go!” Nick shouted at her. “Get out of here!”
She nodded and ran, never looking back.
Nick rushed into the cafeteria and stopped dead in his tracks. Rebecca Firestone crashed into his back, cursing.
Groups of students were huddled together against the walls, high schoolers clinging to each other as they looked on in horror.
Teachers and other chaperones stood in front of them, shielding them as best they could. The ones closest to the doors were shepherding people through, but most were cut off, trapped. The adults gathered the students close, holding them together.
And there, standing in the middle of the cafeteria, eyes blazing, was Pyro Storm.
He wore a costume Nick had never seen before: sleeker, tighter. It was black with red piping that ran up the sides of his legs and chest. He didn’t have a cape, but a familiar flame symbol sat in the middle of his chest. His helmet was smoother, the lenses glowing a fierce shade of red that looked like fire. He bared his teeth, and he glanced at Nick rushing toward him, expression softening briefly.
“Where the hell did you get that?” Nick demanded breathlessly as he came to a stop in front of Pyro Storm, briefly ignoring the thundering chaos happening around them. “And when did you have time to change?”
“Kept it hidden from you at school,” Pyro Storm growled, gaze still fixed upward. “Someone told me that sequels needed new costumes, so I’ve been waiting for the right moment to debut it.”
“Where’s—”
“Look out!” Pyro Storm shouted, shoving Nick. It felt like Nick had been hit by a truck as he flew back and hit the floor. Right where he’d been standing, a spike hit the ground, embedding itself into the floor, the ice glistening as water dripped from it.
Nick looked up.
Smoke and Ice floated near the ceiling. The metal that had covered Ice had fallen away, and he wasn’t smiling. His face twisted in anger as he formed more spikes around his head. And there was Dad, pinned to the wall near the ceiling, dozens of feet above the floor, covered in a roiling black cloud. He struggled to no avail.
Hands gripped Nick’s arms, pulling him up. Nick panicked and tried to pull away until he heard Gibby say, “Nick, stop, it’s us!”
He looked around to see that Jazz and Gibby were supporting him. Gibby’s suit coat was gone and her bow tie hung in tatters, the outer layer of lace on Jazz’s dress had been torn away, but otherwise, they appeared unharmed. Furious, but unharmed.
“What the hell is going on?” Gibby demanded.
“Assholes,” Nick snapped. “They’re trying to unmask Seth.”
People screamed when a heavy block of ice smashed into the ground, causing Pyro Storm to vault away before getting flattened. “Is that Rebecca Firestone?” Jazz demanded. “What is she doing here?”
“Forget her,” Nick said. “My powers are on. I have to help—”
“Go,” Gibby said. “If they’re after you, we’ll get everyone out and come back and help. Distract them.”
Nick nodded. “Get everyone through the doors to the teacher parking lot. They should still be open. Don’t do anything stupid. Stay low, stay hidden. Help is on the way.”
“On it,” Jazz said. “We’ll—”
“Jasmine!” Miles roared.
Nick lifted his head in time to see a column of black smoke hurtling toward them. He didn’t have time to react when Jazz shoved them both with surprising strength, causing him and Gibby to stumble back, Gibby grunting as the smoke sliced through the air where they’d just stood, Jazz on the other side, a ferocious snarl on her lips. Before Nick could recover, the smoke snapped back and swung against his chest, knocking him off his feet. He slammed into a wall, the back of his head causing the plaster to crack. He gasped, dazed, lights flashing before his eyes. The smoke spread to his arms and legs, lifting him up off the floor, holding him in place. He tried to push against it, but it was too heavy.
Smoke appeared in front of him, a thin smile on her face. She wasn’t corporeal, more smoke than human, and she collapsed and re-formed in front of him until her face was inches from Nick’s own.
“Hello,” she whispered. “You’re so mu
ch stronger than he expects. Good. He will need you. And you will let him have you. But first—you hurt my brother. And now I will hurt you.”
Nick tensed as he waited for the smoke to tighten around him, to crush his bones, but the moment never came.
Smoke laughed at the expression on his face. “Not you.” She spun slowly, raising her head upward. “Him.”
Dad cried out as the smoke constricted around him. His head rocked back, the cords in his neck sticking out. His eyes were bulging, and Nick screamed.
Then a voice rang out, fierce and strong. “Bitch, I’m trying to work here, and you think you can come in and stop me from getting paid? You’re in for the shock of your whole damn life. And yes, that’s a catchphrase, so kiss my fantastic ass.”
Smoke’s entire body began to seize as bright blue electricity slammed into her, arcing over her arms and legs and chest. The smoke holding Nick collapsed, causing him to slide to the floor. He landed on his feet, looking up to see the smoke holding Dad beginning to dissipate. Nick took off at a run, tearing toward his father, passing by Mateo, the only thing hiding his identity being the mask around his eyes. He snarled as electricity snapped around Smoke, her limbs extended, fingers flexed and trembling.
The smoke holding Dad lessened even more, and he fell a few feet before stopping, still far above the ground. If he fell all the way down, at the very least he’d be seriously hurt, but if he landed wrong, he could die.
He passed Pyro Storm, the heat from his fire blowing over Nick’s skin. Pyro Storm was locked in battle with Ice, the villain moving quickly, blocking the fireballs with walls of white. Nick heard Pyro Storm shout his name, but he ignored it, lost in a wave of panic bowling over him as more of the smoke holding Dad disappeared, causing him to plummet toward the ground.
“No!” Nick shouted, and the pressure in his head increased to the point where he thought it was about to explode. He pushed and felt the spark grow as bright as the sun. He raised his hands, hoping against hope that his powers wouldn’t fail him, that he’d be the hero his father needed.
Except he never made it.
A column of ice exploded from the ground. He couldn’t stop in time and skidded into it, the impact jarring, pain igniting in his shoulder. The spark dimmed, and he cried out in horror as the last of the smoke disappeared.
Dad fell. He didn’t make a sound.
But Trey and Miles and Bob did, with Trey shouting, “I’ve got him!”; Miles bellowing, “You better not be as heavy as you look!”; and Bob muttering, “I’m too old for this shit.” They appeared underneath Dad and he landed on top of them, causing them all to hit the floor. Bob pushed himself onto his hands and knees as Ice sent a wave of hundreds of tiny spikes toward Pyro Storm, causing him to flip away to avoid being impaled. Ice turned toward the fallen men, hovering above them. Rebecca Firestone stood in a corner, hunched low over her camera, pointing it toward the dazed men.
“Foolish,” Ice said mildly. “And now you will suffer because of it.”
He raised his hands.
His fingers trembled.
“You’ll have to go through us first,” a voice said, and then Martha appeared, hands on her hips. Next to her stood Aysha and Joanna, both holding what looked like butter knives from the tables. In front of them were Gibby and Jazz, Gibby’s hands curled into fists, Jazz barefoot, her high heels in her hands, wielding them like weapons. All in all, not the best-outfitted group, but if Nick was facing them, he’d be terrified. If looks could kill, Ice would already be straight-up murdered.
But since he apparently didn’t know who he was dealing with, he said, “You are nothing. I will go through you. Right through all of—”
A high heel bounced off his forehead with an audible thunk, the skin splitting, blood dribbling down to the bridge of his nose. He reached up and touched his face, his hand coming away wet with a red smear.
Jazz squinted up at him. “Are you serious? No wonder the patriarchy failed. You always underestimate what women are capable of. Sucks to be you.” She raised her arm, the other shoe gripped tight in her hand. Ice reared back. Nick didn’t blame him; he’d never seen Jazz look so hardcore before.
But it was all an act, the distraction they needed. Ice, his attention so focused on the group of women and the men they shielded, didn’t see Pyro Storm rising behind him. Fire bloomed around Pyro Storm, the air crackling. Raising his hands, Pyro Storm gathered the fire in a swirling ball before he hurled it at Ice. At the last second, Ice turned his head, eyes widening.
Nick was about to throw his hands up in victory when Ice caught the fireball. The flames froze in a blue sheen of frozen particles between his hands.
“Oh shit,” Pyro Storm breathed, and then Ice hurled the ball back at him. Pyro Storm managed to dodge just in time, the ball exploding on the ground, ice sliding along the floor. A piece bounced against Nick’s shoe, and he looked down at it as the other people still trapped in the cafeteria screamed. He glanced toward the closest group, stunned to see Rebecca Firestone standing in front of them. For a moment, he thought he’d gotten her all wrong and that she was protecting them. But then he saw her pointing the camera in their faces, going for extreme close-ups of their fear, and Nick knew—even now, as he was fighting literal villains—she was the most terrible human being in existence.
A cry came from behind him. He whirled around to see a column of smoke slamming into Mateo, an arc of electricity shooting up toward the ceiling, striking the lights. The bulbs shattered, glass and sparks raining down everywhere. A section of the ceiling holding up prom banners—thin metal struts that crisscrossed—broke off. Nick covered his head with his hands and bent over, trying to make himself as small as possible. He closed his eyes, sure he was about to be crushed, and he felt his mind twist, the sensation filled with a mix of pain and pleasure at the same time, and he loved it, he loved the way it made him feel, the way it warmed him from the inside out, the way it—
He opened one eye.
He wasn’t dead.
He opened the other and looked up.
Glass and metal and dozens of sparks swirled above his head like a field of stars. He reached up and touched one of the sparks. He hissed when it singed his finger. He pulled his hand away, shaking it out. He swayed his head from side to side, choking on a laugh when the glass and metal and sparks swayed with him.
He turned slowly toward Smoke. He grinned at her. He puffed out his chest, put his fists on his hips, and said (in a ridiculously deep voice), “It’s time to take out the trash.” Rebecca Firestone better have gotten that on film because he was going to rewatch the shit out of it.
“Nicky, no,” Gibby shouted.
“Nicky, yes,” he growled, like a badass.
And then he moved.
He ran for Smoke, now solid. The sparks and glass swirled furiously, attaching to the metal struts, causing them to glow and glitter. Mateo’s eyes widened as he saw Nick coming and raised his own hands, electricity snarling across his fingers. Nick jerked his head, sending the ember-hot struts flying toward Smoke. As they hurtled toward her, electricity flew from Mateo’s fingertips, the snap and snarl of blue light racing next to the struts. If their aim was true, they’d clip her, not kill her, which would hopefully be enough to give them the upper hand.
But her body turned to smoke, and the struts and arcing electricity flew right through her, metal quivering as they hit the wall in a shower of sparks, the electricity snapping into nothing.
Nick tried to stop, but the floor was wet with melting ice. He slid into Smoke right as she became corporeal. He bounced off her, but before he could fall to the ground, she wrapped a hand around his throat, lifting him up, his feet kicking into empty air. She raised him above her as he choked, her fingers digging in as he slapped at her arm, trying to get her to let him go. No use.
“You,” she said, mouth twisted in a sneer. “I have had enough of you.”
“Feeling is mutual,” Nick managed to say. Her grip tightened, cuttin
g off his air. Inky-black splotches began to filter into Nick’s vision, and he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe—
With a yell, Gibby appeared behind Smoke, running toward them. When she was still six feet away, she leapt, hands clasped above her head in one fist, bringing them down to smash Smoke’s head. Which would have been epic as all hell, except before the impact hit, Smoke vanished in a black cloud, causing Gibby’s hands to smash into Nick’s shoulder as she collided with his chest, knocking them both to the ground. Gibby landed partially on Nick, who blinked slowly up at the ceiling.
Smoke re-formed above them. Her expression was pinched as she said, “I hate children.”
And then she screamed, whirling around, slapping at her back. Behind her, Jazz stood, lowering her hand, hair fluttering around her face. Sticking out of the middle of Smoke’s back was one of Jazz’s heels, the tip embedded in her skin.
“It’s about time I got to stab something,” Jazz snapped, helping Gibby up as Smoke fell to her knees. “Try that again, and the next shoe goes in your damn eye.”
Nick gasped when Pyro Storm crashed down next to him, rolling violently, costume torn on his shoulders and chest, drops of blood leaving a red smear on the ground. He landed on his stomach, grunting as he pressed his hands and feet flat against the ground before pushing up, legs kicking out as he flipped back onto his feet. He swung his arm out in a flat arc, fire shooting from him, melting a block of ice hurling in their direction.
“Get up,” Pyro Storm spat, grabbing Nick by the arm. Dizzy, Nick clung to Pyro Storm, their faces inches apart. They breathed the same air, in and out, in and out, and if they were going to die, if these were going to be their last moments on earth, Nick wasn’t going to waste them.
He said, “Dude, I lo— Look out!”
Nick shoved Pyro Storm as hard as he could. The Extraordinary fell back, a sheet of ice flying between them, missing both of them by inches. Nick was about to rush back toward Pyro Storm when hands grabbed his shoulders, turning him around.
Smoke grinned at him. “Hello.” And then she punched him in the face.