The Extraordinaries

by TJ Klune

  “I’m going to arrest you,” Cap growled. “And throw you in jail myself. Do you hear me? In fact, I’m going to reinstate chain gangs. Hard labor. That’s all you’re gonna get.”

  “That’s a clear overreach of your position, and you should be ashamed of— Stop trying to distract me!”

  “Tell me where you are, Nick.”

  “Listen, okay? I’m asking you to listen. There’s going to be—”

  A voice spoke behind him. “Hey, Nicky.”

  Nick whirled around. There was no one there.

  “Nick?” Cap asked.

  Nick’s grip tightened on the phone. “Hold on. There’s—”

  A streetlamp blew out, glass shattering.

  Nick took a step back.

  Another streetlamp exploded.

  And another.

  And another.

  “Oh no,” Nick breathed. “Cap! You have to help Pyro Storm, you hear me? You have to help—”

  The phone was ripped from his hand by a tentacle of shadows. Nick watched as his phone was twisted and crushed. The shadow relaxed its grip, and pieces of Nick’s phone clattered on the sidewalk.

  “Owen?” Nick breathed.

  “My name,” he said as he stepped out of the dark, “is Shadow Star.”

  Nick was only able to make it a few feet before the shadows surrounded him.

  Everything went black.

  19

  Nicholas Bell awoke, bound on the top of one of the spires on McManus Bridge.

  Shadows wrapped around his legs and torso, holding him in place high above the Westfield River.

  Birds flew by him, only a few feet away.

  Nick discovered he had an extreme fear of heights. The timing could have been a bit better for such a realization, but supervillains apparently didn’t give two shits about that.

  “Oh my god,” he said, struggling not to gag. Then, the anger of an artist whose work was plagiarized set in, and any fear of dying a terrible death by falling to the street below was shoved to the background. “Are you serious? You’re using my fanfiction against me? That’s a crappy thing to do, even for you. I didn’t even know you’d read it, much less decided to steal it. Come up with your own ideas, you dick!”

  “What can I say? I’m your biggest fan.”

  Nick looked down, regretting the move almost instantly. The cars on the bridge below looked so tiny, and all that was between him and an impression of a wannabe Jackson Pollock all over the pavement was a supervillain who read Nick’s online self-insert real-person fanfiction and was now incorporating it into his diabolical schemes.

  All in all, Nick wasn’t having the best day. If he survived this, he was going to need to post a warning for his followers to be aware of who could be reading their fics, lest they be used for nefarious purposes.

  And it certainly didn’t help that Shadow Star—Owen—was standing on a metal platform in full costume about ten feet below him, smiling wildly. He wiggled his gloved fingers up at Nick as the lenses over his eyes flashed. His other hand was wrapped tightly around a person next to him on the platform.

  “Rebecca Firestone,” Nick gasped. “I thought you died in the helicopter crash!”

  “That was just my cameraman and the pilot,” she said. “Shadow Star saved me.” She smiled dreamily at Owen. “Like he always does.”

  Nick made a face. “Oh my god, ew. Dude, you’re, like, forty. Your lady boner for Shadow Star is both disgusting and problematic. Also, illegal.”

  She glared up at him. “I’m thirty-four.”

  Nick rolled his eyes. “Shadow Star is a seventeen-year-old high school student named Owen Burke. Also, I’ve made out with him, so suck it.”

  Rebecca Firestone snapped her head toward Shadow Star. “You what?”

  Shadow Star shrugged. “Yeah. We did make out. It was pretty good.”

  “Pretty good,” Nick growled, outraged. “I was awesome—”

  “You’re only seventeen?” Rebecca Firestone said, sounding like she was starting to panic. “But … that … I’ve had thoughts about—”

  “Gross,” Nick muttered. “Old people are so weird.”

  Rebecca Firestone got over her horror rather quickly. She began to try and beat Shadow Star over the head with her hands. Nick never thought he’d be in a position to cheer loudly for Rebecca Firestone about anything, much less punching Shadow Star in the face. But here he was, screaming down at her to scratch his freaking eyes out and kick him in the balls. She looked like she was about to do exactly that, but then the lights on Shadow Star’s wrists lit up, making Nick turn his head. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw shadows slither around Rebecca Firestone, lifting her off the platform. One of her shoes slipped off and fell toward the ground below. Nick couldn’t see where it landed.

  Rebecca Firestone kicked and screamed as she was raised eye-level with Nick, her back pressed against a spire across from him. The shadows tightened around her, holding her in place. She banged her head back against the spire, demanding that Shadow Star let her go this instant, and did he know all the things she’d done for him? She was a celebrated and an award-winning journalist, and she would not be treated this way!

  “Yeah!” Nick crowed, getting caught up in the high stakes of televised investigative journalism. “You better let us go, or else!”

  Rebecca Firestone glared at him. “I don’t care what he does to you. I’m only talking about myself.”

  Nick gaped at her. “And to think I was just stanning you after hating everything about your existence ever since I first saw you! Guess what? I’m once again anti–Rebecca Firestone! You’re the worst.” Nick paused, considering. “Well, almost the worst. Shadow Star is pretty much winning that contest right now. But you’re a close second. Congratulations.”

  Shadow Star rose between them, standing on a shifting pedestal of shadows. “Now, now. No need to fight over me. There’s more than enough of me to go around.”

  Nick struggled against the shadows, trying to break free, but it was useless. And to top it all off, he was starting to get a headache. He wasn’t having a very good night. Or life. “What do you want with me?”

  “Oh, Nick. It’s not you I want.”

  “What? Then why am I here?”

  Owen laughed. “You know why.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “I think you do. Everyone knows to whom your heart belongs. And since I have captured you with my diabolical scheme, we both know who will come to your rescue. He always does.”

  Nick blinked. “Leave him alone or I’ll—wait a minute. Are you quoting my fanfiction? Are you serious right now?”

  Owen tilted his head back and cackled maniacally. It was a good evil laugh, much to Nick’s dismay.

  Rebecca Firestone didn’t seem to find it funny. Neither did Nick, but he wasn’t going to feel any kind of kinship with her again. He’d learned his lesson.

  “No,” Owen said. “Oh, no. You’re supposed to say your line, Nicky. He doesn’t care about you, even though we both know it’s a lie. And then I’ll tell you how wrong you are, how wrong you’ve always been. Because I would know. I’ve seen the expression on his face when you weren’t looking, when you were giving me those big ol’ gosh golly gee eyes of yours. Oh, Nicky. He was hurting. And yet, he still managed to hold himself back. He let you go, even though everything he’s done has been for you.” Owen sighed. “It was really quite precious. He saw the devastation left behind after your mother died. He told himself he was going to make the world a better place for you. It was … sweet. Misguided, but sweet. Especially when I knew I could do it better. After all, all it takes to become famous is a little flash, some good PR, and voila! Instant love and adoration.” He turned and reached out, patting Rebecca Firestone on the cheek.

  “You saved me,” she snarled. “That scaffolding would have crushed me if you hadn’t stopped it.”

  “Oh,” Owen said. “You mean the scaffolding that I threw to begin wit
h?”

  Rebecca Firestone paled. “You didn’t.”

  “I did,” he said gleefully. “And you took the bait. Even I was surprised how easy it was. All I had to do was smile at you, and you did everything I wanted.”

  “Wow,” Nick said smugly. “Look how easy you are. You should feel totally embarrassed right now.”

  “And you, Nick,” Shadow Star said, whirling back around.

  “Nope,” he said. “Nope, nope, nope. We don’t need to talk about me. Let me have that sick burn I got on Rebecca Firestone, and that’ll be that. Also, maybe let me go? And turn yourself in.”

  “You are just like her.”

  Nick was going to straight up murder him. Screw what the Grays said about no killing. Owen was dead. “You take that back!”

  “All I had to do was smile in your direction, and you were mine.” Owen grinned at him. “Our dear, precious Pyro Storm didn’t see me one day when I followed him home. Imagine my surprise when I found out he was a kid like me. A sweet, innocent boy who had such an obvious crush on this loud, annoying guy—it was painful to watch. But then I swooped in and took that from him. You didn’t even notice. So what does that make you, Nick?”

  Before Nick could respond, Rebecca Firestone said, “Owen Burke.”

  Owen turned again. “What was that?”

  “Owen Burke,” she repeated slowly. “That’s … that’s what he said your name was. Owen Burke … as in Simon Burke. You’re … you’re Simon Burke’s son.”

  “I am,” Owen said, taking a step toward her. The shadows underneath him shifted with every step he took, keeping him from falling. “You might even say that all of this is because of him.”

  “Shit,” Nick moaned. “I hate being right. Also, a villain with daddy issues? Come on, Owen. Try being original for once. First, you steal my fanfiction, and now you’re trying to be like every comic book baddie ever written? And don’t even get me started how you’re essentially ripping off Spider-Man by being a discount Harry Osborn. What the hell. Have some self-respect.”

  He barely saw Owen move before a gloved hand was wrapped around his throat, squeezing tightly. Nick choked, trying to kick his legs out against Owen, but the shadows held him down tight. Pain lanced through his head as Owen bared his teeth, snarling. “This isn’t a game, Nicky. You still think we’re playing, but we’re not. You talk and talk and talk and never say anything at all. It’s one of the things that pisses me off the most about you. God, it’s no wonder your mother died. I wouldn’t be surprised if she stepped in front of that bullet to get away from you.”

  A red sheen fell over Nick’s eyes. Anger like he’d never felt boiled in his chest. His head was pounding, and all he wanted to do was lash out, to tear and punch and kick until Owen was nothing but a bloody mess of broken teeth and crushed bone.

  “Good,” Owen breathed. “Good, Nick. There it is. I could see it, you know. Even though no one else could. You have this darkness in you. Oh, you haven’t had a chance to explore it, you haven’t been able to harness it any way that mattered, but it’s there, waiting to be let out. We’re the same, Nicky. Even if you can’t see it now, we’re the same. The things we’d do to protect those we care about. If you had a chance to go back, to be there in that bank, what would you do?”

  “Screw you,” Nick spat.

  Owen shook his head. “Such a brave face. You don’t need to do that with me. I know you, Nick. Better than everyone. Because I am you. We’re covered in shadows, you and me. It’s easy to give into it when you want it badly enough. I know what you would’ve done for her. You would have stopped them by any means necessary. Even if it meant blood on your hands.” His grip tightened. “Be gay. Do crimes.”

  He wasn’t wrong, but Nick wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. “I am nothing like you.”

  “Aren’t you?” Owen asked, his face inches from Nick’s, his breath hot against Nick’s cheeks. “Because I seem to remember you saying you would do anything to protect those you love. We’re not like Pyro Storm, Nick. You’re not like Seth. You and me, we have to fight tooth and nail just to be on his level. How is that fair? He won the genetic lottery, and the rest of us are supposed to accept it? Why should he get to have powers the rest of us don’t? I may hate my father, but he still gave me the tools to become what I am. He didn’t know how far I could take it. He will, though. Everyone will.”

  “Pyro Storm is coming for me,” Nick snapped, spittle spraying from his mouth and landing on Owen’s mask. It glistened in the light. “And he’s gonna kick your ass.”

  Owen let go of this throat, reaching up to ruffle Nick’s hair as he gasped in a deep breath. He gagged, eyes watering.

  “It’s kind of irritating how much he cares about you,” Owen said. “Seriously, watching the two of you fumble around each other was embarrassing.”

  “Hey!”

  “But it doesn’t matter,” Owen said, squaring his shoulders. “Because today is the day that I bring about the end of Pyro Storm. You’re right. He’ll come for you. And it’ll be the last thing he ever does.”

  “Would you stop quoting my fan—”

  “What about me?” Rebecca Firestone asked, and Nick again was unimpressed by her. She always tried to make it about herself. It was really an unattractive quality to have.

  “You’ll tell my story,” Owen said, rising higher. In the distance, Nick thought he could hear the sounds of approaching sirens. “This city will love me. You’ll make sure of it.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  Owen shrugged. “I’ll kill you and find someone else.”

  “I’m on board, then,” she said quickly. “I’m thinking we try to go national. A sit-down interview. We need to meet the real Shadow Star. The boy—the man behind the mask.”

  “What about your scruples?” Nick demanded. “Your moral integrity? You’re a reporter. You’re supposed to be unbiased!”

  She snorted. “Kid, I don’t know what in the hell is going on, but I don’t want to die. I would also like a Pulitzer.”

  “I will never watch Action News again! You hear me? Never!”

  “Is he always this loud?” she asked Owen.

  “Yes. Always. And filled with outrage over the weirdest things. This one time, I—”

  But whatever example Owen was about to give was cut off as he exploded.

  Not literally, but Nick didn’t know that, at least not right away. One moment he was standing on a pillar of shadows above them, and the next, there was a bright burst of fire engulfing him. Nick shouted in terror, turning his face away from the immense heat that rolled over his skin. He felt the shadows binding him begin to loosen, and he slipped a little down the spire, shirt riding up on his back and pressing against cold metal. He heard Rebecca Firestone cry out across from him, and he managed to open his eyes in time to see her sliding down her own spire, feet dangling into nothing. Her other shoe fell off, a sharp wind blowing it out into the river.

  Nick looked down and saw a dozen police cars screeching to a halt, their lights spinning. He was dizzy at the sight of them so far away. He couldn’t even make out the sound of the doors flying open.

  He lifted his head toward the sky.

  Owen had been knocked off his shadow pedestal and was clinging to the top of Nick’s spire, costume smoking, embers smoldering on his shoulder. He looked out, face twisted in fury.

  Nick followed his gaze.

  There, high above Nova City, cape billowing around him, was Pyro Storm.

  “Quite the entrance,” Owen said. “I’m impressed.” He brushed off the embers on his shoulder. They winked out as they fell.

  “This is over,” Pyro Storm said, and Nick shivered at the steel in his voice. “I should’ve stopped you a long time ago. Everything you’ve done in the last few days, the people that were hurt, that died—that’s all on me. I’ll never forgive myself for that. But you shouldn’t have touched Aaron Bell. And you shouldn’t have touched Nick. Those weren’t your first mistakes,
but they’re going to be your last.”

  Owen laughed wildly. “Always comes back to Nick, doesn’t it? You talk about justice and saving people, but it was always about him. It’s sad.” He looked down at Nick. “Isn’t it sad, Nicky? Almost as sad as your pathetic little crush on an Extraordinary who was right in front of you all this time.”

  Nick ground his teeth together. He thought the spire behind him started shaking, but he hoped it was just his imagination. It was the last thing he needed at the moment. “You’re a dick, Owen. Had I known it was you, I never would have liked anything about Shadow Star.”

  “You weren’t saying that last spring. In fact, I distinctly remember hearing Owen, please more. Owen, right there, yeah.”

  “What do you think is gonna happen here?” Pyro Storm asked him. “You know this is the end.”

  “I don’t think it is,” Owen said, holding onto the spire with one hand as he reached toward Pyro Storm. “You see, you need me as much as I need you. A hero is only as good as his villain. Think about it. You’re nothing without me. And I do enjoy this dance we do.” He smiled cruelly. “No matter where you go or what you do, I’ll be there right behind you.”

  “Let Nick go,” Pyro Storm ordered.

  Owen shrugged. “Okay.”

  Two things happened at once.

  The shadows holding Nick against the spire disappeared—

  and,

  Owen launched himself at Pyro Storm.

  The latter concerned Nick almost as much as the former.

  It was a strange split second, hanging suspended in midair hundreds of feet above the McManus Bridge. He heard Seth shouting his name before Owen hit him directly in the chest, wrapping inky-black shadows around him, and they both fell away.

  Nick didn’t have time to make noise before he started to fall. One moment he was against the spire, and the next he started to plummet.

  He’d always heard that in the seconds before one’s death, life tended to flash before one’s eyes. Nick could unequivocally say that was a freaking lie. His breath was caught in his throat, and he wanted to scream, to do something to let everyone within hearing distance know he did not want to become a smudge on the pavement below. A bright lance of pain—glassy and harsh—shot through his head, and even as he fell, he was knocked forward, right at Rebecca Firestone.